Illyrio Mopatis's mansion in Pentos.
Viserys Targaryen spoke with growing impatience. "Who else could it be? I don't care who—just take care of it! We're at a critical moment. This is a time future historians will mark with golden ink—I won't allow anything to go wrong!"
Illyrio responded evenly, "Your Grace, this man commands an army."
Viserys scoffed, "If he's taking orders from the usurper, he's no more than a petty lord. When I take back the Iron Throne, every last one of the usurper's dogs will hang."
Illyrio bowed slightly. "That would indeed be fitting. Traitors deserve justice. However..."
With a smile both warm and careful, Illyrio continued, "This family never betrayed the crown. They fought alongside Prince Rhaegar. Even after the prince fell, and all others bent the knee, they fought to the last man."
Viserys's pale violet eyes flickered with anger.
"The usurper's assassins have hunted me for years, Illyrio. I can swear that to you. I am the last true dragon. As long as I live, that usurper will know no peace.
"So what if they were once loyal? They still became dogs of the false king. A shame, really. Had they held out a bit longer, I might have rewarded them once I reclaimed my throne. But now…"
He sneered. "What's his name? I won't be granting pardons to any house."
Illyrio answered, "Gawen Crabb, Lord of Whispers Hall, de facto ruler of the Crab Claw Peninsula. The foremost military noble of the Crownlands."
Viserys, who had been slouching, suddenly sat upright. "The foremost military noble of the Crownlands? How many men does he command?"
Illyrio's smile deepened. "The Crab Claw Peninsula may be poor, but every man there is a trained warrior. If you were to secure Lord Gawen's loyalty, you'd have over ten thousand soldiers. When you ride home with your armies, he would make an invaluable ally behind enemy lines."
Viserys's attention fixed on one thing: the number. With ten thousand men, he could take back the throne immediately.
"Don't kill him!" he blurted. "Where is he now? A descendant of loyal blood deserves to meet me in person—I must see him at once!"
Without waiting for a reply, Viserys began pacing. "Ten thousand... Ten thousand men!"
Illyrio watched him quietly, a shadow of resignation passing over his face.
Suddenly, Viserys stopped. "Why are you silent, my Lord Treasurer?"
Illyrio answered calmly, "Your Grace, Lord Gawen is currently en route to Pentos by ship. But I must also remind you… The nobles of the Crab Claw Peninsula follow a certain... tradition."
Viserys frowned. "What sort of tradition now? Another one of those ridiculous customs?"
Illyrio replied patiently, "I've heard the Crabb lords swear fealty directly to the Queen."
Viserys thought for a moment. "Right… yes, I vaguely recall something like that. So what? Do I need to conjure a queen now just to win over Whispers Hall? Wait…"
He suddenly lit up. "Dany! I have Dany!"
Illyrio sighed inwardly, wearied. "Your Grace, Daenerys is not merely a tool. Her worth is far greater than that. With her, you could win the loyalty of over ten thousand Dothraki."
Viserys snapped, "Do you think I'm a fool? With ten thousand soldiers, I don't need horse lords. Why would I give my future queen to savages?"
"I'll command Daenerys to secure Whispers Hall's loyalty for me. Even that's better than sending her to service some reeking barbarian. Half-wild is still better than fully wild!"
He finally remembered that the Crab Claw nobles were known as "half-wild" lords. He didn't care about the distinction. All that mattered to him was getting an army.
The so-called "Beggar King" had nothing—no wealth, no land, no titles. Could he really win over a military lord across the Narrow Sea with only his so-called charm? Varys's intelligence suggested that Lord Gawen was doing quite well for himself.
That was exactly why Illyrio brought up the queen's tradition in the first place. He subtly steered the conversation toward Daenerys.
Because Illyrio and Varys were laying out their long game. Besides the obvious Targaryen in front of them, they had another one in hiding.
Viserys's loudness, his recklessness—these were useful. They drew attention, and that made him valuable.
A quiet smile crept across Illyrio's lips. Daenerys, yes, she was one of their queen candidates. Her value would be assessed in full, at the proper time.
But Whispers Hall's army should not fall under Viserys's control. It should be Daenerys who held that leash—someone easier to guide.
Illyrio and Varys already had a plan.
"Your Grace," Illyrio said, "you need your own army—not borrowed troops from another house. The men of Whispers Hall answer to House Crabb first."
"Forgive my boldness, but even wise kings must guard against the ambitions of their vassals. That's my honest advice."
Viserys had thought he would be sailing to Westeros in days. But Illyrio's calm counsel cooled some of his excitement.
"I see," he muttered, unable to hide his disappointment. "It's a shame to waste so many men merely as a hidden ally. Very well, keep him alive for now. We'll use him when the time comes."
Illyrio shrugged his broad shoulders. "According to my sources, the false king forced Lord Gawen to accept the mission through trickery. A foolish move, really—it may have guaranteed your safety instead."
Viserys raised a brow. "Explain."
"Your Grace, Daenerys is your intended queen. By the Crab Claw Peninsula's tradition, that alone would secure their loyalty."
Viserys scowled. "But isn't Dany about to be married off to that Dothraki Khal? What then?"
"After her marriage, you'll be her rightful heir. That gives you full claim over Whispers Hall. If the Crabbs side with you, they'll be far more than just allies behind enemy lines."
Red Keep – Tower of the Hand
In the solar of the Hand, Jon Arryn dismissed his attendants. Only Varys remained.
Varys glanced at the closed doors and nodded. "Lord Jon, it is my honor to serve. I await your command."
Jon Arryn coughed and gestured toward a chair. "Sit, Varys. I do have something I need your help with."
Varys bowed and sat lightly.
"A few days ago... when Queen Cersei suggested Duke Mace as a candidate for Hand—"
He was cut off by another fit of coughing. Varys began to rise, but Jon waved him off.
Eventually, the Hand steadied himself, face flushed. "Varys, I want you to look into the Reach and the Westerlands."
Varys nodded without hesitation, but then paused. "Lord Jon, is there something you suspect?"
Jon fixed him with a look. "This all happened too suddenly. I want you to investigate, quietly. I need to know whether House Lannister and House Tyrell are conspiring."
Varys's voice turned solemn. "My little birds will find you the truth, Lord Jon. But please, take care of yourself. The realm needs you."
"Thank you, Varys."
Jon shook his head faintly. "The realm can go on without me—but not without peace. Perhaps I'm just growing old, but I fear war is on the wind again."
He leaned back, sighing. "Stay vigilant, Varys. We must always be ready."
Varys bowed. "You can count on me, my lord. I won't miss even the slightest clue."
Jon nodded, satisfied. After a pause, he added, "One more thing, Varys. What's your opinion of Lord Gawen Crabb?"
Varys joined his hands, eyes flickering. "A capable young man, my lord."
Jon nodded in agreement. "Young, but steady. That's rare."
"Yes," Varys said. "And responsible, too."
"A curious lad," Jon mused, then his tone shifted. "But it's not him I mistrust—it's Queen Cersei. She's impulsive. And Lord Gawen is her chief aide. The Crab Claw lords have always served the Queen."
"You want me to watch Lord Gawen?" Varys asked.
Jon shook his head. "Watch his army."
Though Gawen was now far from Westeros, his soldiers remained in the peninsula. Jon couldn't take chances.
If his investigation into the royal children's bloodlines were exposed, Cersei would go from impulsive to truly dangerous.
Crab Claw lay within the Crownlands. That alone made it worth watching.
Jon wouldn't tell Varys everything—so he offered a half-truth.
"Peace is our highest duty, Varys. Gawen is young and might be swayed by whispers of Targaryen blood. Crab Claw is... unique. Call it an old man's caution."
Varys bowed, serious. "I understand, my lord. You only seek stability. I will begin at once. If anything shifts, you'll know it."
But Varys's eyes trembled faintly.
He sensed something was wrong. Since Lord Gawen uncovered the secret passages in the solar, Varys's own birds had lost access to Jon's secrets.
But Varys was never one to give up. If Jon Arryn was plotting something, it would leave traces. And Varys would find them.
Cersei… Could it be… that truth is about to come out?
Pentos – Daenerys
Daenerys leaned by the window, watching the bay.
She could hear the Red Priests chanting as they lit their nightfires. Beyond the walls, children laughed and played.
She stood there like an object—waiting to be traded by her brother for the army he thought would reclaim their throne.
Even in rags, she longed to join the children barefoot in the streets.
Her pale violet eyes were dull with sorrow.
Across the Narrow Sea lay a land of green hills, wildflowers, deep rivers, and black towers rising among bluish-grey peaks. There, knights bore banners into battle.
In the Free Cities, they called it Westeros. Or the Sunset Kingdoms.
But her brother had a simpler name: "our land."
He used to say: "Someday, sweet sister, we will go home. We will take back our throne."
But now, his promises were only about himself.
Her eyes were red and swollen. Her lips trembled.
She had pieced together the past from his stories—stories of her brother Rhaegar dying on the Trident for a woman he loved.
Of King's Landing, looted by Lannister and Stark men.
Of Princess Elia of Dorne, begging in vain as her children were slaughtered—one still suckling.
Of dragon skulls glaring down from the throne room walls as the Kingslayer slit her father's throat.
She remembered Ser Willem Darry, who called her "little princess," and the house in Braavos with the red door. That had been home.
After Ser Willem died, they wandered. Viserys always claimed assassins were close behind, though Dany had never seen a single one.
The princes and governors of the Free Cities once welcomed the Targaryens. But as the usurper's grip grew firmer, their welcome wore thin.
They sold everything—jewels, even their mother's crown.
People called her brother "the Beggar King." Dany dared not imagine what they called her.
"You're standing there again."
His voice startled her, snapping the thread of memory.
She wiped away her tears before he could see.
Viserys stood beside her. "Don't fret, little sister. Over there…"
He pointed across the sea. "That land will be mine again soon."
She whispered, "But when you go, what will happen to me? You're all I have. I don't want to be alone."
Viserys smiled faintly. "Dany, I won't forget your loyalty. I'll reward you with jewels—enough to last a lifetime."
When she woke the sleeping dragon, he struck her. But worse than the blows was the fear he'd leave her behind.
"I'll never disobey again," she pleaded, tears brimming. "Just don't abandon me. Please, I… I'm so afraid."
His smile vanished. "You're disobeying now! How am I to trade you for an army if I take you with me? Do you want to wake the dragon again?"
"I don't… I don't dare," she whispered, shaking.
"Good."
He stroked her hair gently. "I have a task for you. Don't fail me—or you'll see the dragon's true wrath."
But Dany misunderstood. She thought he'd changed his mind—that he wouldn't give her to the savage.
Her face lit up with joy.
"Brother, I swear, I won't let you down!"
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🔥 The Throne's Last Flame — A Song Forged in Ice and Wrath 🔥
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