Draco's POV
My eyes swept the hall as I entered. Thirty Unsullied lined like statues, ten Dothraki standing at ease but still predatory. At the far end, Daenerys sat upon her seat, her two knights flanking her like loyal hounds. Missandei stepped away from my side to join her queen, leaving me stranded at the centre of the chamber. A deliberate show of power.
No seat was offered. Typical. What a lack of manners.
Suppressing a sigh, I slipped a small stone from my pocket and, with a wave of my wand, reshaped it into a sturdy chair. I sat down as though nothing were out of place, crossing one leg over the other. Their faces flickered with surprise. Daenerys herself raised an eyebrow. I allowed myself a smug little smile.
It was Jorah who finally broke the silence with a rough cough, snapping the hall out of its stunned stillness. If I had to pick the man I liked least in this room, it would be him and not just because of our last meeting.
"Tell me," Daenerys said, her voice steady but eyes sharper than they had been moments ago. "Why are you here, warlock?"
The weight in the hall shifted. Every gaze fixed on me, waiting.
I leaned back in my conjured chair, letting a charming smile play across my lips. "To collect what I'm owed, of course. Surely you haven't forgotten our last meeting?"
The sweetness in my tone was deliberate, but the barb underneath it was meant to sting. I wanted her ruffled.
"We can arrange some coin immediately," Jorah suggested, ever the loyal hound.
I gave a quick shake of my head, almost amused. "I don't care for bribes in worthless muggle trinkets. But," my smile widened, twisting into mock graciousness, "since you insist, I suppose I could reluctantly accept them as a side offering."
"Side offering?" Daenerys echoed, her brow tightening.
"Naturally," I said smoothly. "Unlike you, my needs are different. I heard you keep dragons."
Her composure cracked in an instant, fire flickering in her eyes. "I am not giving away my children."
I tilted my head, feigning innocent curiosity. "Children, is it? Forgive me, I must have missed the lesson where Targaryens learned to lay eggs. Dragons hatch from them. I don't want to go too deep, but tell me, how big was your… experience? You know, to be able to find pleasure with something non-human."
For a moment, confusion clouded their faces. Then clarity struck. Yes, I was asking how it felt to bed a dragon.
"You!" Daenerys roared, her voice sharp with fury. Soldiers instantly raised their spears and swords, ready to strike.
"Don't be so offended," I said evenly. "Don't you call yourself the Mother of Dragons? Isn't it natural to think they're your children one way or another?" I spoke as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world, but seeing her temper fraying, I decided to cut the jest short. Time wasn't something I could waste.
"I was joking. I don't need your big flying lizards. They are of little use to me until they grow much older. What I need is their dung and their claws. Both are far more useful. Dragon dung makes excellent fertilizer for my herbs, and their claws… well, they have their value too."
This calmed her somewhat. She closed her eyes, breathing deep before finally answering, "Very well. I'll have my men gather what you require."
"Now that's the spirit," I drawled, smirking. Such a good girl.
I let the silence hang, then shifted the blade of the conversation. "And the one I caught? Don't tell me he slipped through your fingers."
This time it was Ser Barristan who answered, his voice low, almost bitter. "He ended his life the next morning. We had no chance to press him for what he knew."
I nodded. I wasn't much interested, just curious.
"Are you done?" Daenerys asked, pulling me back from my thoughts.
I looked at her, this time more focused. I could tell she had grown, just like I had, in only a few months. She was beautiful, beautiful enough to make my teenage hormones flare, to make my dragon stir, but I didn't move. I knew my priorities, and I had the strength to control myself.
"Not yet," I said evenly. "Tell me, are you planning to rule Westeros?"
Her eyes narrowed slightly, weighing me, testing if I meant the question as a challenge or curiosity. Finally, she answered with quiet conviction. "Yes. I will take back what is mine, the Iron Throne."
"Good. That means my trip wasn't in vain," I said with a hint of relief.
Daenerys frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," I smiled at her, "I'm going to help you on your journey."
"Why?" The question didn't come from her, but from Jorah.
I leaned back slightly. "Do you want the truth or the lie?"
"What's the lie?" Ser Barristan asked immediately, his tone sharp.
"The lie," I began, my voice steady, "is that she's worthy of it. That I despise the current mess in Westeros, that I need her to be the hope of the poor and the nightmare of the rich. That she's a saviour. A hero."
Daenerys tilted her head, her eyes narrowing just a fraction. "And the truth?"
I grinned. "The truth is, it will be a damn good source of plot." I paused, then corrected myself with a smirk. "I mean, entertainment."
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