Daenerys Targaryen watched in apprehension as her brother glared down the cheesemonger, who seemed to absolutely refuse to be cowed. Fear knotted in her stomach. She prayed to the Seven Gods she barely knew that Viserys' temper would remain calm, that Illyrio Mopatis would not wake the dragon. She did not want Viserys to quarrel with their host when he had been gracious enough to offer them shelter indefinitely. She did not want to find herself back on the street, going hungry as her brother looked for another lord or merchant to beg favour from. And she did not wish to feel his temper turned upon her, again, when things inevitably went wrong.
"I did track down Sers Hightower and Whent," Mopatis said. "I sent them the message that their rightful king required their aid. They did not see fit to answer me; apparently they have well and truly taken to the life of common sellswords."
Daenerys' stomach sank to the ground at those words. Viserys had so hoped, and she had too... Combined, the two former knights of the Kingsguard commanded fifteen thousand highly trained soldiers. Their feats were legendary. Rumour had it that Ser Whent and some of his trusted captains had even stolen Blackfyre back from the Golden Company. Even aside from that, she had grown up hearing Viserys speak of them, their deeds and their legends.
How could they turn them down in their hour of need, the House they had once sworn their
lives to? They were the only two members of the Targaryen Kingsguard they had had to rely upon. Ser Jaime Lannister had slain their father. Ser Barristan Selmy had bent the knee to the Usurper. Ser Arthur Dayne had apparently foresworn everything and everyone to help raise his bastard nephew. What hope did they have now?
Viserys' fury looked to be near the point of boiling, hands trembling at his sides. "Traitors, the lot of them," he declared. "I shall have their heads when I sit my rightful Throne."
"Do you have any other news for us, Magister?" Daenerys asked, and fought not to cringe at the sound of her own voice. Viserys glared at her interruption, but Daenerys felt sick at the thought of seeing the previous conversation through to its conclusion. And, as always, she was eager for any news of the homeland she remembered only through her brother's tellings.
"I do," Mopatis said. "Something most definitely appears to be afoot. The old marriage alliance between Stark, Tully and Arryn now encompasses all Great Houses, save Baratheon and Lannister. A few moons back, Jon Stark of Dragonstone wed Margaery Tyrell, and Garlan Tyrell is set to wed Arianne Martell before the end of the year. And it appears Doran Martell has asked for one of the Stark girls of Winterfell to wed his son Quentyn, offering them a lordship of their own in return."
Viserys all but growled, and Daenerys understood his fury. Arianne should have been his. The betrothal had almost been in place before the Martells suddenly withdrew their support. And a Stark in Dragonstone, when it was meant to be theirs, when she had been the rightful Princess of Dragonstone her entire life, was near to unbearable.
"The good thing," Mopatis pressed on, before Viserys got a chance to explode. "Is that should a conflict occur, Baratheon and Lannister will find themselves isolated, with all the other Houses interconnected. The ill is that we cannot tell what anyone means to do with this alliance, or whether they mean to use it at all. If there are any plots afoot, everyone involved is being so tight lipped not even my friends in Westeros can tell what they are."
Viserys seemed to relax all at once. "It is obvious, is it not?" He smirked. "They have seen the error of their ways. They have seen what a wastrel the Usurper is. They mean to topple him and welcome me back as their rightful king."
"Maybe," Illyrio hedged. "Or maybe they mean to crown someone else. The Starks are at the core of this. They are what tie every part of the alliance together. They are who everyone will be related to." He paused for a moment, looked Daenerys up and down, as though he were evaluating one of his wares to be bartered and sold. "The heir to Winterfell is unpromised, and of an age with your sister, Your Grace. It may be in your best interests to enter into this alliance, find out what they are planning and use it to your own advantage."
Daenerys felt her own lips curl with disgust. The Starks were the Usurper's dogs. Viserys had always said so. To have to wed one, be bound forever to the desolate, barbarian North... The thought alone frightened her.
Viserys seemed to grit his teeth. "My sister shall not wed a dog," he said. "We shall have to wait and see. And you shall not fail me again."