"You say you are a friend of Varys?" Illyrio asked.
"That's right. All of his 'little birds' work for me now. They live in the North Sea Kindergarten I established," Lancelot replied.
"North Sea Kindergarten... that sounds like it's quite far north, doesn't it?"
"It's just on the outskirts of King's Landing. Anyway, let's end this pointless chatter. Magister Illyrio, can you take us into the city?" Lancelot asked.
Illyrio glanced at the people behind Lancelot—a mix of Lannister soldiers and Unsullied.
He knew of the Unsullied; many Magisters and Princes employed them as guards. They were the finest bodyguards money could buy.
Illyrio led Lancelot and his group to his manse.
Upon entering, he instructed Lancelot:
"There are other honored guests in the West Wing; please do not disturb them! You may stay here for a time. Once the Festival of Pentos concludes, you can depart. Until then, please restrain your subordinates. I do not worry about the Unsullied, but your lions... please ensure they do not eat anyone."
Lancelot nodded.
He ordered Podrick to assign quarters to the Lionheart Club members and the Unsullied. Once that was done, he planned to skinchange into a small cat to see if the guests in the West Wing really were the Targaryen siblings.
Lancelot lay down on his bed and projected his consciousness into an orange tabby cat on the roof. The cat's pupils immediately shifted, gleaming with a human-like intelligence.
Lancelot controlled the tabby, leaping down from the eaves and sprinting toward the West Wing.
Handmaidens were bustling in and out of the wing, each carrying large buckets of hot water.
Lancelot hopped through an open window and saw a massive bathing pool filled with flower petals. Amidst the rising steam, a hazy figure was soaking in the water.
"Meow!" Lancelot couldn't help but voice his confusion.
Is this Daenerys?
Hearing the cat, a young girl with silver hair and purple eyes stood up from the water. She looked toward the window and spotted the orange cat, Lancelot.
"Here kitty, kitty! Come here!"
Daenerys let out a sigh of relief. She had thought it might be an assassin.
Viserys was always telling her that Robert would send knives to kill them.
Lancelot walked along the edge of the pool with a careful feline gait. Cats hate water, and he couldn't control the cat to jump in—especially not into water that hot.
Water that scalding would have flayed the skin right off Viserys. Only Daenerys, with her heat resistance, could withstand it.
Lancelot walked up to face Daenerys, taking in her youthful, innocent face.
"She should be around thirteen or fourteen, but she's certainly developing fast," Lancelot noted internally, glancing discreetly.
She swam over to the edge and scooped Lancelot up in a hug.
Lancelot froze. He wanted to break free, but found he couldn't escape her grasp.
"Oh, kitty. Where is your family? Are you homeless like me?"
Daenerys held Lancelot up high, asking the cat softly.
"Meow, meow!" the orange cat cried.
"I have a brother. He was nice to me when I was little, but now that we're older, he hits me often. Especially when he's sleeping—I dare not make a sound, for fear of waking the dragon."
Daenerys spoke with deep sorrow.
She poured her heart out to the cat for a long time, until the bathwater had turned completely cold.
Only then did Lancelot manage to escape her clutches.
"You're leaving, aren't you? I've heard cats are always cool like that—coming and going without a trace. I wish I could be like you," Daenerys said, watching the orange tabby on the windowsill.
Lancelot looked back at her one last time. Then, under her astonished gaze, he dipped his paw in a puddle of water and wrote a few words on the floor tiles.
"Dragon Eggs. Blood and Fire are one. Reborn from the flames."
Lancelot leaped from the window, returning to his own courtyard. His consciousness snapped back into his own body.
"Hopefully, that little nudge will help Daenerys awaken the dragons sooner."
Daenerys Targaryen stared at the words written by the cat's paw.
"What was he? Just an orange cat, or an avatar of something else? He reminded me... could it be that I will obtain dragon eggs? That I will use blood and fire to wake them?"
She guessed many things, but for now, they were just shadows of a future she couldn't yet see.
---
After staying at Illyrio's estate for a few days, the Festival of Pentos finally ended.
Lancelot prepared to return to King's Landing. Before leaving, he attempted to collect the Lionheart Club uniforms and banners.
"Ser, these uniforms and banners are magnificent. Why not let us keep them?" Podrick suggested.
He had grown fond of his identity as a member of the Lionheart Club. Since joining, he felt like a new man.
The other Lannister soldiers also strongly expressed their desire to keep their uniforms and the unit insignia.
"Since you all want to keep them, then keep them!" Lancelot ultimately decided not to recall the gear.
"It seems your first power base is successfully established! Ser Lancelot!" Melisandre stood behind him, watching the nearly one hundred Lannister soldiers cheering.
"It's not enough! I want more than this!" A smile curled at the corner of Lancelot's mouth. He looked across the sea, toward Westeros, toward King's Landing.
The great ship cut through the wind and waves. After ten days, they finally sailed from Pentos into Blackwater Bay.
Lancelot didn't get seasick this time. As his Spirit and stats increased, his resistance to various negative physical states had also improved.
"Looks like having high stats has its perks. All kinds of perks," Lancelot thought.
After disembarking, they prepared to enter through the Lion Gate. When Lancelot rode the massive white lion, Hrakkar, up to the gate, he saw Red Cloaks standing guard.
It seemed House Lannister's infiltration of King's Landing was severe; a portion of the City Watch—the Gold Cloaks—had already been replaced by Red Cloaks.
Seeing a man riding a giant white lion, the Red Cloaks immediately blocked the way.
"This is King's Landing, not a circus! Besides, the Hand of the King died last night. We didn't invite any troupes to perform."
"Go back to wherever you came from!"
The Red Cloaks were even stricter than the Gold Cloaks, likely due to Tywin's influence.
"How dare you! Do you know who this is? This is Ser Lancelot, the eldest grandson of Lord Tywin Lannister!"
A member of the Lionheart Club stepped forward and shouted.
"You... you're Charles!"
The Red Cloak seemed to recognize his old friend.
"I am Charles. Charles of the glorious and noble Lionheart Club," the soldier replied. He had the golden hair and green eyes of a typical Lannister, and he spoke with immense arrogance.
"Apologies, Ser Lancelot! I didn't recognize you!"
"It doesn't matter. I have been away from King's Landing for a year, after all!" Lancelot said.
He had changed significantly in the last year—his height, weight, and appearance were all different. He was also dressed in fine silks gifted by the Meereenese, which were very breathable. In the heat of the Long Summer and the crowds of King's Landing, wearing too many layers was suffocating.
"You said the Hand died? Jon Arryn?"
"Yes. He died suddenly yesterday. He went very quickly. It seemed to be a fever. Grand Maester Pycelle saw him off personally."
Lancelot lowered his eyes. It seemed Littlefinger and the others had moved faster than expected.
"Is Lord Stannis still in King's Landing?" Lancelot asked. He was very concerned about this.
"He is."
"So he hasn't left yet... But once he finds out he isn't Robert's next Hand, I doubt he'll stay much longer."
Lancelot then rode Hrakkar into the city. The people on the streets scrambled to make way. The low growl of the lion echoed far and wide, causing a stir even within the Red Keep.
"Where is that roaring coming from? Didn't I say no circuses allowed right now?" Robert complained, annoyed.
"Jaime, go take a look. Arrest the troublemaker!"
The White Knight, Jaime Lannister, eyes flickering slightly, bowed to Robert and left the hall.
Lancelot rode the white lion directly to the residential quarters of the castle. The handmaidens shrieked and hid upon seeing Hrakkar, though some recognized the rider.
"That's Ser Lancelot! He actually tamed such a massive lion! He's so brave!"
"He's the Queen's nephew... I heard he isn't betrothed yet. I'd love to marry him!"
"Don't be stupid. With his status, he'll marry a Duke's daughter at the very least! He'd never look at servants like us."
Hearing the lion's roar reach the inner holdfast, Jaime Lannister rushed over with a squad of Red Cloaks, only to find Lancelot.
"Lancelot! You're back!" A genuine smile broke across Jaime's face.