"I'll have you to thank!" Gendry looked at Illyrio. The fat man's smile was so sweet; he probably still thought pairing Robert's bastard with a surviving Targaryen was a vicious joke. But Gendry did have Illyrio to thank. Daenerys was a kind of destiny, too.
Gendry walked toward Daenerys, dressed in black velvet embroidered with the white emblem of the Wolf Pack. His hair was as black as Eternal Night, his eyes as captivating as the sea. He wore no crown; honor itself accompanied him.
At the sight of the rough black iron mask on Gendry's face, Daenerys could not help wondering what lay beneath. Was he handsome or coarse-featured? Was his face covered in wounds or pockmarks? Why did he wear a mask?
Chapter 61: The Truth
"Did you see his build?" Viserys stressed to Daenerys. "Mercenaries live by the sword. Failure means death. The Wolf King has never lost. He's the Liberator of the Disputed Lands, just like Aegon the Conqueror. That's how he climbed so high, so fast!"
"But I don't really want to!" Daenerys replied quietly.
Daenerys watched Gendry. His dark, bright gaze was full of strength and determination, with occasional flashes of passion and warmth. His eyes were captivating. He was athletic, too, with broad shoulders and the powerful arms of a smith.
Daenerys supposed she would have to marry him even if he was hideous. Viserys beat her whenever he woke the sleeping dragon's wrath, but he was nothing like this man, who resembled an untamed leader of wolves. She felt utterly at a loss. She understood that this was a transaction. Now she would have to leave this place and follow a stranger away.
"Viserys, please, please, can't we just go home? Brother!"
"Home!" Viserys immediately grew furious, though he kept his voice low. "Our home is long gone! How are we supposed to go home?" This was not their home. Their home was what they had lost: Dragonstone, King's Landing, the Iron Throne.
"I don't know!" Tears filled Daenerys's eyes. Where was her home?
"I want you to play your part properly!" Viserys said harshly. "Marry the mercenary king. We need his army. If it meant getting an army-twenty or thirty thousand soldiers and two hundred warships-I'd let every one of those soldiers bed you, even the horses and the ships. Now you only have to bed the king. You're lucky enough as it is. Pull yourself together!"
Daenerys immediately wiped away her tears. The fat magister was all smiles as he accompanied the mysterious king toward them. Viserys told his sister to lift her head and push out her chest, though there was precious little there to push out.
Gendry approached the two of them and took Daenerys's hand.
Daenerys had never set foot in Westeros and had no memories of the war or the Usurper. "All the flowers tonight are not half as beautiful as you, Princess!"
Daenerys was certainly small and pitiable, with little in the way of a bosom. But beside her lovely face, none of that mattered. Hers was a beauty in a class of its own, one that would later become famous throughout the known world.
Gendry's voice was like steel, carrying the allure of masculine strength. Daenerys hesitated, then timidly agreed.
The fat magister smiled with delight. What a wonderful affair. This marriage alliance was a success!
"Magister, I think we need to make a few changes to our agreement! I'm very pleased with the match you've arranged!" Gendry looked at Illyrio.
Illyrio's face froze again. He had not expected a complication.
"I like Princess Daenerys very much, but I want to wait until she comes of age before we marry. Until then, I will serve as her guardian."
Buzz, buzz, buzz! Illyrio felt as though a great bell were battering his head over and over, leaving him endlessly dizzy. With this delay, the cunning mercenary would not send troops now at all. Daenerys was only thirteen.
"As the Archon wishes!" Illyrio said generously, forcing down his frustration. These Westerosi are still craftier than the Khal. Since this brat isn't being friendly, I'll expose every secret.
"Then I can take my betrothed for a stroll!" Gendry paid Illyrio and Viserys no further attention and led Daenerys to the other side of the estate.
"Surely this won't do? The Usurper sits on my father's throne! How much longer must I wait?" Viserys's eyes went still. He could not bear to wait another minute or second. "If I'd known this would happen, I might as well have given my sister to the Khal!"
Gendry could not be bothered with Illyrio's attitude. The cheese merchant and the Spider's advantage lay in the information they held. Their greatest weakness was military strength. Like beggars, they schemed to turn others' power to their own ends, but it would not be so easy!
Gendry's Unsullied guards stared coldly at Viserys. Their eyes were like iron, and at last Viserys learned to stop his abuse.
Illyrio shrugged his broad shoulders. "Great king, you've already waited most of your life. What are a few more months... or even a few more years?"
Ser Jorah added, "The Commander-in-Chief will not forget your friendship! He will repay you with a gift, but everything must proceed according to his wishes! When someone of low standing asks a powerful man for help, he should mind his tone and manner rather than act superior."
Viserys snapped, "Mormont, you'd best watch your tongue, or I'll have it cut out. I'm no man of low standing. I am the rightful king of the Seven Kingdoms. The heir of the True Dragon does not bow and scrape."
Jorah gave Viserys a contemptuous glance, and Illyrio once again smiled placatingly, urging Viserys to calm down.
"Since you're a crude northerner, the True Dragon won't stoop to arguing with you. But you should know that the True Dragon never, never forgets!" Viserys said viciously.
Gendry took his betrothed to a quieter garden. Free Army soldiers dismissed everyone else, including the Unsullied household servants the fat man had given him. Gendry did not trust them.
Gendry gently invited Daenerys to sit on a garden bench. There were many flowers that night, but none could compare to the rose.
The night was cold, chill as ice water. Gendry removed his cloak and draped it over Daenerys's silk clothes.
Daenerys was very shy, but she finally mastered the fear in her heart. She told herself, I am Daenerys Stormborn, Princess of Dragonstone. The blood of Aegon the Conqueror flows in my veins.
Daenerys was also confused. She wondered whether the king was so impatient that he wanted crude lovemaking at their first meeting. Yet he could clearly have chosen to marry her now rather than wait until she came of age.
"I have a beautiful gift for you, my princess!" Gendry told Daenerys, then presented it to her.
"This is..." The crown was delicate, shaped like a dragon. Its golden body was suited to a woman's head, and red gems representing the colors of House Targaryen were set into it as the dragon's eyes.
"Queen Rhaella's crown!" Gendry smiled. Obtaining this gift had cost him a great deal. He had gone to extraordinary lengths, and the merchants had not dared offend the rising mercenary king.
Gendry understood the Daenerys before him. She was merely a thirteen-year-old princess in exile, far from the Dragon Queen she would become after the deaths of her husband and child and betrayal after betrayal. She was only a fragile princess longing for a powerful protector.
Gendry had power and good looks, faced no barriers of language or etiquette, and was willing to put in the effort. Winning over an exiled princess was even easier for him than for the savage Khal.
"Thank you!" Daenerys held the crown in both hands, as though she had recovered her lost dignity.
"I'd like... I'd like to see you!"
Gendry removed his mask. Daenerys saw a handsome, flawless face, bright, masculine, and beautiful. His hair was thick and coarse, black as ink, and he had a pair of lovely blue eyes, so wonderfully blue.
"Would you like to know about my past, Dany?" Gendry asked her.
Daenerys nodded.
"This is a secret. I've only told you!" "I'm just like you, someone without a home. I fled here from King's Landing! I used to work as a smith there, then came to the Disputed Lands to become a mercenary."
Daenerys's eyes widened. She felt that the king's exile was a legend in its own right.
"What about your family?" Daenerys asked tentatively.
"I'm a bastard. My mother is dead. I have a very powerful father, but he never cared for me. He only likes loose women. His wife wants to kill me! If I hadn't escaped, I would have been murdered like my younger bastard brothers and sisters."
Daenerys's head buzzed. The truth hurt, and a dreadful suspicion occurred to her. They said the Usurper was as strong as a bull and terribly bloodthirsty.
"I'm the Usurper's bastard, someone he abandoned! Just like you, I hate House Lannister."
Daenerys's heart pounded wildly. She did not know how to face the truth. She liked Gendry. He was strong and made her feel safe, and he had taken the trouble to recover her crown. But why did fate have to toy with her like this?
"We're both abandoned souls. Thank the gods for letting us meet!" Gendry held Daenerys's hand, and she did not pull away.
"I'll give you a home!" Daenerys said after some thought, then kissed Gendry. Her kiss was a little cold.
I am the Conqueror's descendant. I am fire. The Usurper's bastard had endured hardship and fled. At least his attitude toward the Iron Throne and toward her was sincere. He had not deceived her. Daenerys first convinced herself. For now, she was inclined to please others, and she had never met a strong man who treated her so well.
Daenerys was unlike Viserys. She was still easily changed. She had not personally lived through the stories she knew, and before she faced an actual assassination attempt, she still lacked a sense of purpose.
Chapter 62: Scandal
"That whore has taken up with the mercenary chief in Myr!" King Robert slammed a heavy fist onto the Small Council table, his voice thundering. Fat and crude though he was, he was still the king. "Before long, she'll whelp a whole litter of monsters, and they'll come across the Narrow Sea for revenge! And that fool Viserys, too. Have I made myself clear? I want them dead!"
"It's only a game between a young girl and a mercenary chief, Robert. They aren't married yet!" said Jon Arryn, old but healthy, with blond hair, blue eyes, and a hooked nose.
"Am I supposed to keep waiting?" the king demanded. "Your objections cost me a fine chance to have them killed years ago."
"Where did this mercenary chief come from?" Renly asked deliberately. He wore green, which made him look all the more handsome and dashing.
"That mercenary king is something of a relation of yours, Lord Renly!" Varys answered softly, wringing his powder-scented hands.
"Well, that's a curious thing. Me, related to a mercenary chief across the Narrow Sea?"
"Varys, let me explain!" Duke Jon said.
"Robert, that mercenary chief is very likely your bastard!" Duke Jon said with great certainty. "His build, his past, his temperament, his passion for battle, and his eyes and hair!"
"Such a coincidence. Just as the mercenary king began his rise, an apprentice happened to disappear from a smithy in King's Landing. Gendry, the son of a tavern serving woman-a handsome lad with black hair, blue eyes, and plenty of strength. An important man had arranged his apprenticeship! Then one day, perhaps after discovering some great secret, the boy fled King's Landing," Varys said theatrically.
Every eye turned to the king, and all sound died away. The bastards he had fathered since taking the throne were often silenced for good if Cersei discovered them.
"A scandal! An explosive scandal!"
"What? I have a son that old? Gendry?" King Robert was somewhat stunned. He did not know how many women he had bedded, much less how many bastards he had. Nor did he care about those children.
"When there are so many coincidences, they cease to be coincidences, Robert!" Duke Jon said. "Perhaps it was in 283, the year we won."
"He is your child, Robert! In the year 279 of the Conquest Calendar, when you were seventeen and living in the Vale with Eddard, you already had your first child!"
"Put that way, it could be...?" King Robert thought it over but could make no sense of it. The Stormlands, King's Landing, the Vale, the Westerlands-he had left lovers everywhere, but he had never cared for the children, except for his first bastard daughter, Mya.
"Seven above! I have no way of dragging this boy back from across the Narrow Sea to see whether he's really my bastard." The king's face reddened. "Even if he is, he's already tangled himself up with the dragon's spawn. That makes him a traitor to House Baratheon."
"What a bizarre affair. My brother's bastard, the remnants of House Targaryen, and if we add the Golden Company, those Blackfyre remnants, we'd have a proper Restorationist Alliance!" Renly laughed.
"Enough!" Stannis said, glaring at Robert. The king's bastard had caused serious trouble. "We must face the threat they pose. As the saying goes, bastards are born of lust and lies. They grow faster than other children, and wantonness and treachery run in their blood. Myr lies just across the sea. Sooner or later, that great fleet will bring the surviving Targaryens back!"
The lessons of the Blackfyre Rebellion were plain to see. It seemed House Baratheon might also face the threat of a bastard rebellion, especially with its bastard entangled with the remnants of House Targaryen.
"I can't wait until they land and leave Joffrey with all this trouble! And those surviving Royalists-who knows how many are waiting for the dragon's spawn to return!" King Robert cursed. "And keep this news from Cersei for now. I don't want that stupid woman prattling on and on. It's unbearable."
Duke Jon looked at the generous king, wanting to speak but holding back. Stannis had told him a secret that left him unable to sleep.
"Are we to attack them?" Stannis pressed. For now, he had no intention of sending troops. The source of the chaos lay in King's Landing, inside the Red Keep. "We have a fleet, but training and reorganization will take time. Besides, I cannot lead the attack myself. Kinslaying is a grave crime!"
Varys gave an unctuous smile. "If sacrificing one person could save tens of millions, then that person's welfare would be insignificant beside theirs."
Lord Renly added, "Viserys and his sister should have been killed long ago, but you listened to Duke Jon, Brother."
"But Daenerys, and your child as well, Robert, are still only children! They may not even be sixteen or seventeen. This is immoral!" Duke Jon said.
"We must kill every Targaryen!" the king roared.
"They deserve to die!" Lord Renly added.
"We have no choice!" Varys murmured. "What a pity. What a pity."
Duke Jon felt isolated and outnumbered. Perhaps he should summon someone now: Eddard.
"Your Grace, meeting an enemy on the battlefield is honorable. Murdering children is not. Moreover, one of them is your son. Even if he is a bastard, you cannot escape the suspicion of kinslaying. Forgive me, but I support Duke Jon's position," Ser Barristan Selmy declared.
Grand Maester Pycelle spent several minutes clearing his throat. "My order exists to serve the welfare of the whole realm, not merely its ruler. I served King Aerys faithfully, just as I now serve King Robert, so I bear his daughter no ill will. But I ask you-if war breaks out again, how many soldiers will die in the wilderness? How many villages will burn? How many children will be torn from their mothers' arms and die on spears?" He stroked his great white beard, looking compassionate and utterly weary. "If Daenerys's death alone could save countless lives, would that not be the wiser course, perhaps even the more merciful one?"
"The more merciful," Varys said. "Oh, Grand Maester, how beautifully put. Nothing could be more correct. Indeed, if the gods above should look away for a moment and grant Daenerys Targaryen a son, a legitimate son with both Baratheon and Targaryen blood, the realm would surely face bloodshed."
Littlefinger spoke last, but took a different tone. "My lords, perhaps words can prove mightier than swords! I could take my silver tongue across the Narrow Sea. Perhaps my words could bring that good boy back to his senses and persuade him to surrender Daenerys and her brother!"
"Surrender Daenerys?" Ser Barristan Selmy looked at Littlefinger.
"With gold, rewards, and titles. Why not see whether our good boy Gendry is willing to return?" Littlefinger cleared his throat.
"You're being far too simplistic!" Lord Renly scoffed. "Gendry possesses Myr and the Disputed Lands, along with Daenerys's claim. If he gains the Golden Company's support as well, he'll have more than enough strength to cause us serious trouble. What could you offer to satisfy him? A patch of land? A little gold?"
"Where there's a will, there's a way, Lord Renly! Perhaps your good nephew has merely been led astray, and I shall move him with smiles and gifts!" Littlefinger said confidently. "If my plan fails, there will still be time to prepare poison and assassins! The question-the question is what gifts we should offer him."
"Gold and a castle!" Robert's face reddened. "I won't make him part of the royal family, and I won't negotiate with a traitor! Whatever else he may be, I'm his father!"
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