Chapitre 21: Interlude: The Dragon Princess
The day was beginning to dawn when Daenerys Targaryen looked up from her book and yawned.
Light filtered through the stained-glass windows of the manse's library, filling the colourful cones of light with dancing motes of dust, swirling elegantly around her. The large chair before the hearth was sinfully soft and she wrapped herself in a snug blanket of sable imported from Westeros. After asking Doreah to light the hearth, Dany soon lost herself in the words.
Many of the books she had been given by Haldon were dull histories of Westerosi houses, annotated maps and books of law that exhausted the princess after only reading the first few lines. Septa Lemore had given her books of theology to study from and histories of the Faith such as the schism when Dorne cut ties with the High Septon and installed their own at Sunspear, claiming His Holiness in Oldtown and later King's Landing was a Targaryen puppet and not the true avatar of the Seven. Daenerys Targaryen had made a point to read the seven-pointed-star but besides the stories, she had grown bored of study. She enjoyed reading, but what she loved were adventures and romances, the exploits of her ancestors and fanciful tales rather than ponderous reads as dry as the parchments they were written on.
The princess covered another yawn with the back of her hand and looked over to where the fire had died down to an ember glow. I must have been down here all night.
As of late, Dany was visited by queer dreams that left the princess unable to return to blessed slumber. They were always of dragons and fire. Once, Daenerys dreamt she was big and bloated, unable to walk, and Viserys was hitting her, hurting her. She was naked and clumsy with fear. She ran but couldn't run fast enough. "You woke the dragon!" he screamed, "You woke the dragon! You woke the dragon!" She had screamed and then Viserys ripped in two, filling her ears with a horrid cracking sound, and in his place was a dragon black as night with a pair of eyes as bright as stars. They found her, staring, unblinking. Then it breathed, it's flames spraying out in a hot jet. Her flesh crackled and blackened, bubbled and burnt. It fell from her bones and her blood boiled than steamed.
Dany had awoken, shaking and sticky with sweat.
It must have woken her bedmaid, because Doreah took Daenerys into her arms and whispered sweet comforts in her ear. But instead of sleeping, Dany felt restless and in need to stretch her legs. After wondering around the manse and sneaking down to the kitchens to help herself to some cheese and olives, she retired to the library. Haldon was always asking her to study politics but Dany wasn't interested in that. Instead of dates and going through the taxes King Daeron the Second issued that made many lords resent him, she read the exploits of Aegon the Conqueror, the epic love of King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne, and cried at the Dance of the Dragons.
Seeing the sun was finally here, Dany blinked. Her eyes were red and raw while her fingers were not without the cuts she had suffered from the parchment. The expansive room was full of dust from where the books had been left unused and unloved. Only a few visited the library and Illyrio Mopatis wasn't one of them.
Throwing the furs to the floor, she stood up. I can't sleep. I could have, but I didn't. The household servants were already up and preparing for the day, all curtsying but Dany paid them no mind. Upon returning to her chambers, she asked for Larra and Jhiqui to fetch water for the bathtub. As they prepared, Dany turned to the eggs laying in the open chest, all four lined up on the bed of fine damasks. For an instant, the candle reached over to touch them, the flame brushing the shells like a lazy finger. A thousand droplets of scarlet flame swam before her eyes, lasting barely a moment. Dany blinked and they were gone. It is nothing, she told herself. They are only stone. A gift from Magister Illyrio to buy more men. The dragons are all dead. She pressed a palm against the black and red egg, fingers spreading out and running across the curve of the shell. The stone was warm. Almost hot. Dany pulled her hand away. The candles. They must have warmed them up. Nothing more.
The water was scolding hot. Irri and Doreah bathed her while Jhiqui laid out her clothes. It was known a princess should be surrounded by servants of high birth to add prestige to her person, but Daenerys didn't have Westerosi ladies and instead all her servants were slaves or former slaves. Both Irri and Jhiqui were gifts from Aegon after his victory against Khal Drogo. They were the closest things to noble ladies the Dothraki had, having been daughters of a Khal who'd been defeated by Khal Drogo in battle. They had the same copper skin, thick black hair and almond-shaped eyes. Both were pretty, though Jhiqui had wider hips and was broader than the slender Irri. The other two servants were Lysene, fair-haired and blue-eyed, both gifts from Magister Illyrio who brought them from pleasure houses. She had asked to keep them for herself and both had been relieved.
Daenerys knew she would need to replace them or risk being ostracised in Westeros. A Targaryen princess being served by bedslaves and Dothraki instead of highborn ladies would be considered improper. She didn't like that. She enjoyed their company and had grown attached to the four of them. I'm a princess. It's expected of me to follow proper protocol. They are not expected to be proper ladies. Viserys would urge her to remove them when he was king, maybe even before that. I can still give them good matches. No doubt a minor lord or knight would take them as wives and treat them kindly.
Larra helped Daenerys out the bath, Jhiqui provided a fresh towel and Doreah presented the dress. Today, Dany was given a gown of sea-green samite decorated with baby pearls that rattled every time she moved, a pair of doe-skinned sandals that cuddled her feet after refusing some Myrish high-heeled shoes that made her almost topple over the last time she'd worn them, and a necklace of silver and amethysts.
They were combing her hair when Septa Lemore walked in, dressed in clothes more fit for a rich merchant's wife than the white robes of a septa. She still wore the crystal around her neck, however. The septa curtsied and the other handmaidens returned the gesture to the woman who became their unofficial leader. Looking her up and down, Septa Lemore smiled, the lines around her mouth deepening. "You look a true princess. A true Targaryen."
Dany was confused by the garbs, but she smiled at the compliment. "I thank you for the kind words, Lady Septa. I have a question I mean to ask of you. Do you know when Magister Illyrio intends to see me wed?" She was a maiden flowered and promised to marry Aegon to secure the allegiance of the Golden Company to her brother, yet no dates had been put forth for the wedding. Viserys didn't say anything, only that they needed to get the Golden Company and that when they were finally wed, she needed to please him. Doreah had been teaching Dany just that.
Septa Lemore shook her head, "I'm afraid only the magister knows when, Princess Daenerys. No dates have been put forward for the marriage, nor has anything else been said. I can't but think it would be for long. Both dynasties need to be tied together and His Grace is most eager to meet his army."
Dany nodded, fiddling with her hands.
Glancing at the handmaidens, Lemore continued, "I suggest you dress in more warmly garbs. I intend to take Princess Daenerys into Pentos."
Daenerys was confused. "Septa?"
Lemore smirked playfully at her. "I hope you don't intend to remain in the manse all your days. While it isn't unknown for many ladies to do so, I on the other hand love to explore and walk around. I have not left the manse in a while and do yearn to visit the markets of Pentos to see what curiosities the traders sell. In the grand bazaars you can find everything and Pentos, of all Free Cities, does have the most worshippers of the Seven."
"Are you sure that is wise, my lady?" Larra asked cautious. "Is Magister Illyrio—"
"He is aware. We won't be going alone. We'll be escorted by the legionnaires of Aegon's own century. They'll be led by Ser Rolly Duckfield. Aegon would have no one else."
"Is my betrothed coming with us?"
"I'm afraid to say he is not," Lemore said, her face flickering briefly. "I would wish that to be so, but Aegon is busy with private business with Master Vaquo. About what, I am unable to say, so you shouldn't see him until later. Fear not, you are in good hands."
The day was warm and cloudless as they travelled to the city in a gilded palanquin. Behind the curtains, the world was a golden yellow as Dany reclined with Lemore and her handmaiden. It was pleasant to lie back on soft cushions. Not once had she been allowed to leave the walls of where they were staying without Viserys looking over her. It made Dany feel giddy and fearless.
"Where are we going first?" Daenerys wondered as she nibbled on a sweetmeat. "The septs?"
"That will happen later. First, I mean to visit the markets. There is no knowing what you can find there and I do love seeing what the traders sell." Lemore grinned at her. She was handsome and had always been kind to Dany.
"I heard the Faith in Pentos is different from that of Westeros. Mind if I ask how?"
"I thought I gave you books on the subject. Have you not read them?"
"My apologies, Lady Septa. You did give me books, but I have not yet read them. You have given me plenty, yet I have only read the seven-pointed-star in full."
"Most are dull things, aren't they? I cannot blame you. When I was a mere novice, I cared little for reading. Instead I gossiped with the others and got no lack of scolding. It never stopped me. I was a wicked little thing." Lemore chuckled, picking herself a sweetmeat and taking a delicate bite. "While the High Septon likes to act like the Faith of the Seven is united in all things, that is not the case. I was brought up in Dorne and the Faith there is different than that of Oldtown and King's Landing."
"Dorne had its own High Septon and that caused conflict between the two."
"While there were differences even before the Schism of the Seven, the Faith in Dorne was much closer to Oldtown before the coming of Princess Nymeria. After the migration, the Faith grew influenced by the ancient Rhoynar. If you visit the Septry at Sunspear or that of Starfall, you can see Rhoynish iconography all over. It is not unknown for some, like the Orphans of the Greenblood, to keep faith with the Mother Rhoyne as well as the Seven, or even merging the two. More than once I have seen the Blessed Mother as the Mother Rhoyne with her on stained glass windows as a beautiful pregnant woman riding a large turtle, pouring crystal clear waters from an ewer to fill the world. While the Maiden is usually found holding a pomegranate for that's the fruit of fertility and is surrounded by fruits of all kinds, with a laurel of grapes crowning her head."
"I was never aware."
"You'll learn." Septa Lemore tapped her hand with calloused fingers.
"Septa, might I ask why you became one? I mean, I . . ."
The Dornishwoman laughed. "I never chose to become a member of the Faith, princess. I was born to a minor house of landed knights. My oldest sister was to inherit and I had a few brothers and sisters before me in the line of succession. My family wasn't all that wealthy, with only a slow running river feeding our plot of land. We were richer in sand and rocks than coin. After a harsh summer, my parents decided to send me to the nearest motherhouse. Give me a holy education, they said, less mouths to feed was the truth. I was the youngest, so I was sent." A flicker passed across her thin lips. "I was taught to read and sing and be pious, to make myself the servant of the Seven who are one."
"But you were wilful," Dany smiled slightly. "You said you were wicked."
"Very much so," the older woman said sorrowfully. "That was why I was kicked out. He was young and handsome, though with a slight limp from racing his horse when it fell upon him. A lesser knight sworn to House Toland, and a bastard besides. I was young and smitten and he . . . I was expecting and the Septa Supreme discovered after I tried to hide it."
Dany was lost for words.
"It is forbidden for those sworn to the Seven to have carnal relations. Women especially. Even in Dorne. I was beaten with a rod and called a wicked creature before being thrown out and left to fend on my own. I couldn't return home for I was dishonoured, and my sire would have chased me out if I carried a child out of wedlock. He was proud of his honour and to have a daughter like me, well . . ."
"I-I'm sorry, Lady Septa." If you can be called that. "Might I ask what happened to the babe?"
Pain washed over her face. "With the Mother Above now. He was born strong and lusty, than a sudden chill caught him. Babes can be born healthy but they are fragile little things. The world is a cruel place, princess. The septons say that it is the gods who decide but there are days I do question it, even if I shouldn't. It was afterwards where I sought solace in the seven-pointed-star unlike before."
"And how did you end up here . . . with Aegon?"
The septa snapped out of wherever she was. "Aegon? The Spider needed someone who knew the Faith and found me. I was a wandering around Westeros, a travelling septa who visited villages and towns and performed services they were unable to. I helped the sick and blessed more unions and babes than I dared count. I learned more in those years than I ever did walled inside the motherhouse and—oh look, we're here."
They entered the massive iron-studded Sunrise Gate that served as one of the three entrances through the stout brick walls. Despite the massive array of towers and battlements manned by the city watch, Pentos was regarded as the most vulnerable of the Free Cities thanks to restrictions placed on the Council of Magisters by Braavosi treaties. Treaties that may soon be burnt. While Daenerys wasn't told much, it was increasingly common to hear the council were taking a firmer stance against the Liberation Accords that had been signed in the last war against Braavos a hundred or so years past. After signing, the Pentoshi government was banned from trading slaves and their military was limited, only being allowed twenty warships that made them reliant on Braavosi patrols and forbade the hiring of sellsword companies. It was clear Magister Illyrio desired to burn the Accords and had grown closer ties to the Triarchy to achieve that, using them and the Golden Company as a political counterweight to threaten Braavos into not retaliating. From what Larra had said, as told to her from the groom who learned it from a Braavosi sailor, the Sealord didn't desire open conflict and was willing to commit to appeasement.
The city of Pentos was awash with colour. The palanquin passed beneath an ancient Valyrian arch that detailed the city's history from where it had been founded by merchants, traders and farmers from the Freehold as a trading outpost, the spread of the Andals who inhabited the land before, and dragons from where they must have been war. The city was crowded with square brick buildings towering above her, many pressed together like drunks after a night drinking, and market stalls took up every available space. Unlike the cities of Lys and Volantis, Valyrian blood wasn't seen the same way in Pentos. These were a mongrel people whose men dyed and oiled their hair and forked their beards. Pentoshi were lovers of song and festivities, generous to those who pleased them and renowned throughout the world for their masked balls. There were many Bravos as well, standing at the doors of shops in puffy sleeves and swords on their hips, patrolling like cats ready for a fight. Banners hanged from the walls and colourful cloth linked buildings across cobblestone streets. Elaborate fountains filled every square wrought in the shapes of beasts and men, while marble statues of Pentoshi princes and elected officials stood emotionless in public squares and buildings, all tall and majestic.
It was just a shame there was so many beggars around. Many used to work in the fields outside the walls but were forced to migrate to the city proper to look for work. Thanks to Aegon's machinery, there was less demand for workers. Those who were slaves were sold but those that were free found themselves evicted and left to fend for themselves. Now they crowded the streets begging for alms. It wasn't unknown for them to sell themselves or their families to passing slavers if they were dire enough. To deal with rising numbers of restless smallfolk, the Prince of Pentos had decreed more days of festivities and even free rations of grain and oil. Bread and dancing bears, Dany thought, thinking of Aegon the Third's reign.
Pretty soon they stopped the palanquin outside one of the largest bazaars. It was surrounded by high brick walls and inside were warrens, animal pens, white-washed winesinks and gambling dens. Standing outside were two marble statues: the original two founders, their features weathered with age and paint all but gone. Inside swarmed thousands of people, with hundreds of merchants in the maze of stalls sheltered from the sweltering heat of the sun by dyed linen roofs. They teemed with everything and anything. It was a world where the east and west, the north and south collided, a strange assortment of sights and sounds and smells. There were merchants from ships and land caravans going as far as Vaes Dothrak and even the Empire of Yi Ti to the east, Westeros across the Narrow Sea and the Summer Isles to the far south.
Ser Duck pulled back the flap, dressed in mail with a green surcoat with a white duck emblazoned on his breast. He was a tall, brawny man with a shaggy ginger beard and a face used to smiling. The knight of ducks helped Septa Lemore than herself and lastly Doreah who blushed at him. Alongside the knight were other guardsmen, sellswords both young and old, fair and dark, comely and haggard. The men of the Golden Company wore oiled black mail and brigandines, with black cloaks and watchful eyes. A strikingly handsome man with golden hair smirked at her, tilting his head ever so slightly before another, a red-haired giant, wracked him in the back of the head with an open palm.
Taking in a deep breath, Dany let herself get lost in the smells of perfumes and scented oils that clashed against the sharp odours of garlic and pepper, sour wine and sizzling meat being cooked over open fires. The smells of days in the alleys of Tyrosh and Myr brought a fond smile to her face. A child aided his father carrying bolts of Myrish lace, giant smooth-faced eunuchs carried chests as easily as empty wicker baskets while dirty orphans darted beneath their legs, careful to remain out of sight from the city watch who patrolled in conical helms and suits of polished silver scales, with spears and cudgels resting on their hips. Her guards went ahead and some, Daenerys knew, were dressed like anyone else in the crowd. Duck had told Dany that her safety was of the highest concern and there would be no end to those willing to do her harm. Behind one stall was a pretty young woman with olive-skin selling Dornish spices and Dany enjoyed haggling before buying some dragon peppers and Dornish wine after a sample. Next, she examined the wares from a portly trader from Lannisport who sold exquisite goldwork from the Westerlands wrought into rings and brooches, torcs and other jewels. She brought a few rings and a necklace from the Westerman who took her for a Lyseni noble.
"You do look happy, my lady," Lemore said, careful to not use her true title. She was smiling.
"When I was a little girl, I loved to play in the bazaar," Dany told her, purple eyes going from one stall to another. "Like here, it was so alive but much more so. I was so tiny, and everything looked so much bigger and more exciting. All the people shouting and laughing with so many things to look at. It was exciting and unique. I wanted so much but we seldom had enough coin to buy anything . . . well, except for a sausage now and then, or honeyfingers. Are there honeyfingers in the Seven kingdoms, the kind they bake in Tyrosh?"
Lemore smiled. "No doubt in the ports of Oldtown and King's Landing. Though not as big as here, they have markets where Essosi sell their wares."
"What are honeyfingers?" Duck asked her. "A cake, are they?"
"Cakes." Dany giggled. "Small ones and slender. They are the best, especially when recently cooked. They are crusty on the outside but the inside is molten honey." She felt her mouth water at the memory. The one-time Viserys brought her a cluster, they feasted upon them by the side of the road. They were so sweet, and Dany could remember the flavour as if she'd just been eating them. "We need to find some. Now. That'll be our quest for the day." She smiled at them and led the way.
They found other things in plenty. Going from one stall to another, she felt like a girl again, where all her burdens of the world had been lifted from her shoulders. She found a beautiful feathered cloak and spent a few golden coins. They were worn by Summer Islanders and Dany knew Dalabhar would love it. He scared her with his cold eyes and expressionless voice, but Dany hoped to see him smile. A birdseller asked her name and taught it to a red-feathered parrot with rainbow wings. She laughed but refused to take him. That wasn't the only animal she saw, however. She barely walked a few steps before a white blur climbed up her arm and rested atop her head. It was a lemur, one of the ones from the Forest of Qohor. Little Valyrians, they were called for their silver-white fur and large purple eyes. It was only a baby as well and clung to her as the tradesman ran forward with beads of sweat on his face. Daenerys loved it, despite the initial shock. Doreah cooed over the little creature, and Dany giggled as it perched atop her head and played with her hair. Duck laughed and she brought him. But what do I do with a lemur? Daenerys also brought flasks of scented oils that were of her childhood, she had only to close her eyes and take a sniff of them to remember the house with the red door once more. As a gift to Lemore, she brought 'Seventy-Seven Verses of the Mother's Hymns.' When Doreah looked longingly at a fertility charm at a magician's booth, Dany brought that too and thought about buying Larra and her Dothraki handmaidens something as well. Lastly, she brought Ser Duck an ivory comb. The guards laughed, none more loudly than Rolly himself.
"Oh look!" Daenerys cried, grabbing Doreah's arm, and pointed to a flat-faced woman with yellow and red dyed hair selling a collection of treats. "There they are!" She didn't need to be told twice and practically dragged her handmaiden forward. There were many treats before her. Cakes of cooked apples, cream and honey, oats and blackberries and pinenuts, berry tarts and honeycombs, jams and biscuits. But it was the honeyfingers that stood out. Delighted at the discovery, Dany insisted everyone else enjoy them with her and near brought the whole batch. They were freshly cooked; the outside still soft and hot honey ran sticky down her fingers. It was just as she remembered, and Dany allowed herself some more, giggling all the while.
"It is nice to see you smile, my lady," Doreah said, fiddling with the charm now around her neck. "It is good to see."
Dany smiled shyly. It was sweet to laugh. She felt like half a girl again.
When Lemore had enough, they escorted Daenerys out the bazaar and back to the palanquin but instead of returning to the manse, they continued through the city, visiting bakers and tradesmen, buying wares and handing out alms to the poor. The septa told her how a noble lady should act, how that it was their duty to provide charity. It was the duty of a servant of the Seven and, as royalty, it was Dany's duty to perform that charge even more as someone for others to aspire to. Dany could understand and made a point to do so. After being on the run with Viserys across the Free Cities, she felt kinship with the poor and unfortunate. Together, they visited the septs in the Westerosi enclave of the city, orphanages and hospitals, prayed to the Seven for the sick and the souls of the deceased. To those that were starving, she gave them bread, to those cold she offered clothes. Comfort to those alone, kinship to widows and even played with a group of orphans she wanted to take into her service but a sympathetic Lemore said that may not be for the best. Donations were given to the faithful servants of the Seven but also to the Red Temple, who provided the same services to the needy but were the dominant faith and had more to tend for as a result. Both the septons and the red priests thanked her for the donation, complimented her piety and prayed for her soul in their own ways, promising her sins were forgiven and that the gods bless her.
That took the greater part of the day and when they finally returned to Illyrio's manse, the sky was getting dark. While Daenerys gave plenty to those in Pentos, she still came back with plenty of gifts for her handmaidens, servants and others within the manse. Dany even brought Viserys a few things she hoped he would like, such as a curved knife with an ivory handle and gilding. He had knives but Viserys did love gold.
Not long after returning to her room, Dany was asked to be presented before her brother in the solar. It was a round chamber of brown marble and had a tall vaulted ceiling. Circling the room were engaged columns and covering the floor was a plush Myrish carpet so soft and springy that it felt like she was walking atop the clouds. It a room designed to impress, and certainly impressed Daenerys Targaryen. Standing by the door was Ser Jorah Mormont, dressed in mail with a surcoat emblazoned with the black bear of his house, while Viserys was waiting impatiently and had decided to closely inspect the erotic mosaics and vivid tapestries.
"Brother," Dany said meekly, curtsying to her king and brother.
"Sister," was Viserys' brusque reply. He was dressed handsomely in a black and scarlet doublet, with slashed sleeves to reveal the red underneath. Black boots, polished to high sheen, went up to his knees and his hair had been neatened, flowing to his shoulders in a silver-gold shower. The time in Illyrio's manse had softened Viserys' formerly gaunt face but his pale-lilac eyes remained just as feverish and nervous. He inspected her and, after a moment, spoke. "You disappeared."
"I joined Septa Lemore and Doreah to the city. We went to the market and afterwards provided the smallfolk with charity. It is the duty of a princess and a follower of the Seven to help those less fortunate." And I need to present myself as a faithful princess for Westeros. Haldon stressed how important it was to have the right image to surround herself with. The smallfolk and many lords would look more favourably upon her and Viserys by extension should she be of high moral character.
"They are not our people. You should never have left these walls. It was unsafe and you should have asked your king before doing so."
You would have declined. You always would. "O-of course, Your Grace." She bowed her head submissively. Than she remembered the present she was about to give him. "Sweet brother, I have something. Here." She pulled out the knife and presented it to him, smiling shyly. "I hope you accept the gift, if it pleases you."
He only gave the gift a quick glance, "Blacksmith's leavings. I have many knives already. Why do I need another?" He patted the dagger on his hip. "This was a gift from the brother of the Archon of Tyrosh. It is Valyrian steel with a handle of ebony and the end shaped like a dragon. Why do I need one from you?"
"I-I only thought . . ." Why did he have to be so cruel?
He stepped forward, his hand going under her chin to lift it up so that she was looking into his face. "I trust them not, sweet sister. I trust none of them. Not the magister, not the boy and none of those who surround them. Not the men whose swords will give us the Iron Throne."
"W-what about Ser Connington. He—"
"He is no different. The Knight of Griffins may claim to be loyal to our house and was close to our brother, but he still abandoned us. When we were surviving on the charity of others, hiding and fleeing from the Usurper's knives, they were hiding on a poleboat. While we slept on the streets and shivered in the cold, that Blackfyre was surrounded by allies and teachers who coddled and taught him everything they knew. We fought to survive, always hungry, always running. He has this. They claim to be loyal, yet the Golden Company insulted us and only now have they claimed allegiance despite everything." He frowned, face twisting in fury. "We are little more than pawns to the Blackfyre ambitions. They have never turned their sights away from Westeros nor the Iron Throne, only waited in the shadows."
Daenerys didn't know what to say. Her brother was correct. While she and Viserys had been hiding and living on scraps, Aegon was sheltered and protected by Jon Connington of all people. He should have been with us, not him. Aegon said Connington was led to believe he was Rhaegar's son, but there was no excuse for leaving the Targaryens to fend for themselves, not with all the coin Illyrio Mopatis showered upon them. Dany had to say something though. "He is helping us now. I have no doubt they have their own reasons, but they know they cannot fight the Usurper by themselves. They even proclaimed you king, Viserys. They had sworn oaths to the Seven and all the other gods they believe in. Their word is good as gold. The Golden Company has never betrayed anyone."
"They never betrayed anyone," Viserys agreed, "But they also swore a vow to install a Blackfyre on the Iron Throne. What happens when Aegon Blackfyre decides he is more worthy than myself and proclaims his intent to see me dead? Who do you think the Golden Company will support? They may proclaim me king of Westeros but what are recent oaths compared to those ushered ages past? Words are wind, sweet sister, and the wind shifts and turns."
It was only than that Ser Jorah spoke, "Illyrio believes in no cause but Illyrio. Gluttons are greedy men as a rule, and magisters are devious. Illyrio Mopatis is both. The Golden Company owes their fealty to Aegon Blackfyre and it is the magister who is financing them and the entire campaign. It would be wrong to trust any of them. They are dangerous."
Viserys nodded. "They have their uses. I'll admit that. We need an army and despite my distrust of them, we do need their swords. Let us hope you are married soon and then we can launch our invasion of Westeros. No doubt the Usurper is aware of our intentions. Even the most ignorant are not blind enough to not see what's going on across the Narrow Sea. We need to attack and soon. I cannot wait much longer. The Usurper sits father's throne, corrupting the realm with his presence. Every day that passes, the less support we can command. Illyrio tries to delay, but for what?"
"You have been waiting for years, Your Grace," Mormont stated. "Most of your life you have. What are only a few more months? Maybe another year or so. I do counsel you to be patient. Despite their previous attempts, the Golden Company are knowledgeable when it comes to launching invasions. One just has to look at their history. They will seek to win the Iron Throne and choose the best time to do so. A wise king is patient and not rash. Do not presume to beg Blackheart."
Viserys bristled. "Guard your tongue, Mormont, or I will have it out. I am king and you are an exile. Do not lecture me on what I should and shouldn't do. I am a dragon and a dragon doesn't beg." Ser Jorah lowered his eyes respectfully and Viserys' gaze turned back to his sister.
"Has Doreah been teaching you?"
Dany blushed. Doreah hadn't only been selected to be her handmaiden, but a tutor to teach her the womanly arts to please her future husband. It had been Illyrio who suggested it and Viserys had been grudgingly, until Doreah was sent to warm his bed.
Without her saying a word, Viserys smiled thinly. "Hopefully those skills can be put to good use. If you can persuade your future husband to work in the interests of House Targaryen, all the better. Has he been interested?"
"H-he . . . I do not know. My betrothed seems to lack interest."
"He may be a sword swallower than." Viserys rolled his eyes. "What could I expect from degenerate Essosi? If so, this is a waste but—actually, it may even be preferable. Once I sit the Iron Throne, we can deal with the Blackfyres and their allies. The lords will prefer a maiden over a traitor's leavings."
Dany swallowed. Does he mean . . .
She didn't have time to finish the thought when there was a knock on the door and Aegon entered, a mild smile on his face and trailing behind was Ser Duck with a sword on his hip and a green cloak draped from his shoulders. "Princess Daenerys, Your Grace." He inclined his head.
"Why are you here, Blackfyre?" Viserys demanded, folding his arms and staring at Aegon with naked malice. Her brother hated her betrothed, it was clear to see. "We were expecting Magister Illyrio."
Aegon, however, didn't seem to care. He only turned to her, a slight smirk on his face and purple-blue eyes sparkling. Aegon was more inclined to smirk than smile, chuckle rather than laugh. He spoke smoothly, his voice melodious, rising and falling like he was weaving a song. There was an accent to his voice she couldn't quite pick up on. It wasn't something she heard before and none of the others seemed to truly know. It was strange. "What a shame. My father is in the middle of business with some important associates of his regarding the insurance of his ships. As he can't see you, I've come in his stead and I bring the both of you a gift. One that had once belonged to the last true queen of the Seven Kingdoms. We had received it this very morning, just after Daenerys left the manse. Me and father thought it would be most improper to return it to His Grace when Princess Daenerys wasn't here to bear witness."
Her brother rolled his eyes. "What is it, Blackfyre? Do you have something to offer or not?"
A flicker of a frown appeared on his face before it once more turned into a smile. Unlike Viserys who dressed in plush velvets, silks and rubies, Aegon Blackfyre dressed humbly in a simple black tunic made of lambswool, with no decoration besides a studded belt that held his dirk. He tended to dress humbly, and his hair didn't look like it had been done, leaving it a mess of silver-gold curls.
"I almost forgot. It was kind of His Grace to remind me, else I wouldn't know I was holding this." The Blackfyre pulled out a wooden box he'd been holding behind his back, went on his knees and opened it up. "A gift to the last Targaryens: a queen's crown. Once more, I apologise for the timing but—"
Daenerys only stared; her eyes fixed on the circlet laid atop a plush silken cushion. It was delicate, made of softest silver, beautifully twisted and crusted with tiny pearls, diamonds and amethysts. "Mother's crown . . ."
"Queen Rhaella's crown," Aegon confirmed, his face going solemn. "It was only a matter of luck our agents discovered it being sold by a certain merchant in Volantis. My sire realised who it belonged to and thought it would make a splendid addition. I know how much it means to the both of you and hope it could serve as a gift to put aside our past grievances. No doubt you hated to part with it. Daenerys told me what happened."
Viserys only stared at the crown and Dany could swear there were tears in the corners of his eyes. She hadn't seen him cry for a while. He would get angry at her and the world and would fume but said dragons couldn't cry. He had cried when he was little though, many times he did but those tears had dried and only his anger remained. Now though . . . Dany moved close to him and slid her hand in his. Viserys' hold tightened around her, firm and clammy as he continued to stare.
"We sold it," were his words, so soft that she almost misheard them. "We were starving and had nothing. We were on the streets and . . ." He angrily brushed his eyes which were growing increasingly red. "I avoided it as much as I could, until I could barely stand. The . . . he cheated us. He knew how desperate we were and brought it cheaply. The coin didn't last long."
Aegon nodded sadly. "Tis so. I know you have lost your brother, father and mother. A cruel fate to befall anyone. We should have helped you earlier. I'll admit that now, before the both of you. We wish to make peace and know we can't change the past nor return any of your relatives. But at least we can return something that once belonged to them." And the Iron Throne, his eyes seemed to say. "Would you like to hold it? No doubt your mother would like you to."
Viserys took a deep breath. His usually pale face was a deep red and his lilac eyes looked ready to pour. He stayed fixed, however. Dany was too scared to hold it. She supposed she should feel happy to have it back after so long, but all she felt was sadness. Daenerys didn't know the woman who birthed her, only remembered her crown from when she was little and what it meant. There were times Viserys placed it atop her head and would say she'll be queen. That she'll be his queen.
With Viserys not moving, Dany removed herself from him and slowly took the crown in her delicate hands, scared she might break it. It was smaller than she remembered, and it felt like if she were to apply the slightest pressure, it would snap. "It is beautiful. On behalf of House Targaryen, both me and my brother thank you. In our deepest heart you have our thanks." Standing on the tips of her toes, she kissed him on the cheek. It was a light peck but when she pulled away, a redness crept up on his cheeks and Dany couldn't help but giggle. That only caused the Blackfyre's cheeks to grow a deeper crimson. His cheeks did have a propensity to blush.
He coughed, trying to regain some composure. "I'm glad you love it, princess." He smiled shyly and for once looked uncomfortable and shifted awkwardly. Dany found it sweet. "If I may—"
He didn't have time to finish when Viserys swept him up in a hug.
Aegon was taken aback and struggled but, after a second or so, relented. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," was all Viserys repeated over and over again. He tightened the embrace and Aegon, clearly hesitant, gave him a brusque pat on the back. Her brother than started mumbling words Daenerys could neither hear nor understand and, from his expression, neither could Aegon. Eventually they pried apart and Viserys turned once more to mother's crown, lifting it up and examining it closely. He smiled with both joy and sorrow that tugged at her heart. "I don't know what else I can say . . ."
"Then don't say anything, Your Grace," Aegon said, bowing his head. "I . . . I must take my leave . . ."
"What happened to him?"
"To whom?"
"The merchant. How much did he demand for it?"
"He . . . Magister Illyrio was honest and told me he was reluctant to sell after our agents accused him of stealing. He was . . . encouraged to return it freely." Aegon glanced away awkwardly, chewing his bottom lip.
Viserys nodded reluctantly. "That so. I can't say we'll be saddened by the news. At least it has returned to us now. Mother's crown now once more belongs to it's rightful owners. Aeg—I didn't think I would ever say this, but you have my thanks, and that of House Targaryen." He smiled a sad smile and Dany remembered the brother she had, the one who held her tight and let her cry into his chest and tell her stories of dragons, the one who protected and sheltered her. Not the brother who grabbed and struck her when she did wrong. "I might even be wrong about you. The schism between our houses should end, the tear mended in due time. There might even be a time when I call you brother."
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone