[This chapter was called "The Fool." In fact, most of the Pentos arc was practically me using chapters from a fanfic called "Game of Thrones: The Prideful One." as a template. When I started the story, I had no intention of publishing it, so I didn't care where the words came from as long as they expressed my idea. Now that I've progressed, I feel obliged to rewrite the scenes to make them absolutely mine. But don't worry, the plot won't change much, as it will still follow the series closely. Thank you all for your readings and your understanding in this.]
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The sun was beginning to set over Pentos when the sound of hooves echoed across the cobblestone courtyard of Illyrio Mopatis' mansion. The Targaryen siblings waited at the top of the stairs, surrounded by columns and fine cloths that fluttered in the breeze. Viserys looked impatient, his purple cloak flowing behind him, while Daenerys remained silent beside him, watching attentively as the main gate opened.
Illyrio stood among them, sweaty despite the shade, visibly nervous about the meeting. He had no doubt that Vlad would keep his promise to kill him if the young princess did not meet his expectations.
The Blood Riders were the first to enter: tall men with stern faces and cold gazes, armed, wearing no armor but belts that decorated their shoulders, on which fine furs rested. It was the first time Illyrio had seen Dothraki dressed decently. Unlike the savagery that usually accompanied the khalasars, their march was orderly. They looked more like trained soldiers than barbarians.
The black horse that closed the formation was tall, with a shiny coat and firm steps. Riding on its back was a man with broad shoulders and strong arms that stood out even under his clothes. His pale blonde hair fell in a simple braid down his back. He wore black leather pants and a white silk shirt that contrasted with his pale skin.
—That's Vlad — Viserys murmured to his sister, leaning slightly towards her—. Do you see how long his hair is? When the Dothraki are defeated, they cut it so everyone can see their shame. Khal Vlad has never been defeated... He's a savage, of course, but one of the best living assassins. Besides, all sorts of stories circulate about him... They say he has never been injured and that he impales his enemies.
Daenerys, already nervous, tried to remain steady but couldn't stop a shiver from running down her spine. The man's eyes locked with hers; he didn't look her over like other men usually did, but instead held a strange intensity, as if he could see through her skin.
Illyrio took a few steps forward and raised his voice with his usual theatricality.
—I present to you His Highness Viserys of House Targaryen, the third of his name, rightful King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.
Vlad lifted his chin, staring seriously at the two young people before him. Viserys was scrawny and rather disappointing. His hair was less shiny than his sister's... just like his eyes.
—And his sister, Princess Daenerys of the Storm, of House Targaryen.
Vlad dismounted without a word, with fluid and elegant movements, and walked toward them with measured steps. His riders stayed in formation, motionless.
He stopped a few steps from Daenerys, paying little attention to Viserys, and studied her for a moment. Her hair was an almost unreal silver, and her eyes, a light violet, reflected nothing but fear.
It was clear she didn't want to be there; she was still just a sheltered girl, nothing like the woman she would become in the future.
—Princess Daenerys — Vlad said, bowing his head slightly—. You are more beautiful than the rumors say. It's a pleasure to meet you.
His voice was deep, calm, and masculine. The tone was polite, and he maintained eye contact the entire time.
Daenerys blinked, surprised. She hadn't expected the man, whom they associated with savages and dark rumors, to speak with such refinement.
Viserys, somewhat annoyed at being ignored, spoke, trying to steer the conversation:
—Impressive. He speaks the common tongue better than I expected...
Vlad turned his head toward him, not wiping the faint smile from his lips.
—And you speak it better than I expected... Prince — Vlad said, intentionally emphasizing the title.
The comment was so subtle that, for a moment, no one knew whether it had been a compliment or an insult. Viserys frowned.
—I trust you are pleased, Khal Vlad. My sister will undoubtedly be happy to become your wife, especially if it means recovering what is rightfully ours — Viserys said, pushing Daenerys forward as if she were a commodity at a market.
Vlad cast a glance at Illyrio, deliberately ignoring Viserys, then returned his gaze to Daenerys.
—I accept the deal — he said calmly—. If she agrees to be my wife, I will make House Targaryen sit once again on the Iron Throne — he added solemnly.
Daenerys seemed surprised when her opinion was asked. She didn't want the marriage; she only longed for a home she didn't even remember.
Viserys immediately spoke up:
—Of course, she accepts, Khal Vlad. My sister will be more than happy to be your wife, especially if it helps us recover what is rightfully ours — he said, pushing her a little to make her speak.
—I want to hear her say it. — Vlad interrupted him sharply, his tone cold and cutting.
The girl was nervous in front of Vlad, the difference in size was almost comical, but despite the fear, she didn't dare refuse. She didn't want to "wake the dragon," as Viserys had warned her many times.
—It would... be an honor to become your wife, Khal Vlad — she murmured, her voice trembling.
Illyrio clapped lightly with a laugh, while Viserys smiled in satisfaction.
—How wonderful to see you both finally reunited! Come in, I have prepared a banquet worthy of my guests.
Vlad cast one last look at Illyrio, then returned his gaze to Daenerys.
—Then — he added without breaking eye contact—, Future wife, let's dine.
With a nod, he turned and walked into the mansion, followed by Illyrio and his Blood Riders. Viserys stayed at the door, almost fantasizing about the throne he would reclaim, while Daenerys watched the figure walking away, her heart beating faster, unable to help but feel a little relief; at least the man she was being forced to marry wasn't the savage she had imagined.
The dinner went smoothly. Daenerys, though still anxious, felt somewhat calmer thanks to Vlad's manners and attitude. He didn't seem different from a knight of Westeros, maybe just a little more severe. He was polite to her and addressed her directly, unlike the others, who spoke through her brother.
Viserys, on the other hand, was offended. That "barbarian" did not treat him with the respect he was due, not even offering him a gift. To him, it was clear that despite his manners, Vlad was nothing more than a well-dressed barbarian.
Still, he forced himself to endure and smile. Once he had his army marching over Westeros, he could reclaim the throne and be treated as he deserved. In fact, he thought Vlad would be easily replaceable: when the war began, the soldiers would see his incredible leadership skills and obviously choose to follow him without hesitation.
After all, he was the true king.