From the corner of his eye, Ashara stood quietly in the doorway. At twenty-two, her beauty was not like a carefully nurtured rose in a palace, but rather like a wild flower growing freely on a cliffside, facing salty winds and scorching sun, full of vibrant life.
She wore a dark blue Braavos-style casual dress, unadorned, but the fabric rose and fell with her subtle breaths, subtly outlining the smooth lines of youthful vitality. When Viserys mentioned her name, her eyelashes fluttered almost imperceptibly, and her gaze turned to him. In that instant, words of worry and promise seemed to intertwine in her eyes.
Her pale purple eyes glanced at the sobbing Daenerys. She said nothing, only gave Viserys a slight nod, a gesture that was a silent vow in itself.
Half a month later, on a moonless night, two ships, flying no obvious flags, quietly sailed away from the Old Clothes Vendor's small pier and merged into the darkness of the waters outside Braavos. Viserys stood at the bow of the lead ship, looking back at the trade city-state where scattered lights could still be seen. In his mind, he recalled Ashara's kiss just before boarding, carrying a hint of the cool Braavos night and a faint, delicate fragrance.
In the third week after the fleet departed Braavos, the sea fog was impossibly thick. During the day, the sun was like a dim, yellow halo. At night, the world seemed to be left with only silent gloom.
This kind of weather was best for concealing one's tracks, but also made it easy to encounter ill-intentioned shadows.
The lookout was the first to notice something amiss. In the depths of the fog, there were a few faint, flickering lights. At first, there were only two or three, but soon seven or eight more appeared, subtly forming a loose arc, moving towards their projected course. The experienced sailors immediately sounded the alarm.
"It's a fleet, Your Majesty, quite a number, and their course suggests an interception," Ser Arthur Dayne reported, his hand on his sword hilt, as he approached Viserys.
Through the perspective of the underwater creatures, Viserys could see that the enemy ships were smaller than their warships, with low hulls and pirate flags hanging from their masts. It was a pity there were no large marine creatures nearby, otherwise he would have made them suffer.
"They are pirates."
Almost as soon as he spoke, a long horn blast pierced the silence of the foggy sea. The small ships suddenly accelerated, cutting sharply into their course from the side-front. There were no less than ten in total, and they quickly completed their encirclement. A slightly larger longship, with a coiled sea monster painted on its hull, emerged from the group and blocked their path directly ahead. A loud voice with a heavy Lysene accent carried through the sea fog: "Friends ahead, the weather is bad, the sea route is difficult. Why not stop and let Salladhor Saan, Lord of The Narrow Sea, invite you for a drink and perhaps discuss some business?"
A short, stout figure, like a wine barrel, appeared at the bow of the opposing ship. He was wrapped in a dirty, studded coat, his messy beard almost covering half his face, and beneath a crooked leather cap, his two eyes shone astonishingly bright, greedily scanning the deeply laden cargo hold of Viserys's ship. In fact, it was filled with soldiers' armor and weapons. If they were to make a move, they would be in for a bad time, as these pirates were poorly equipped, and most of these soldiers were familiar with naval combat.
"Salladhor Saan," Viserys repeated the name softly, finding a description of it in a corner of his memory. He was the pirate captain who was active in The Narrow Sea in the original work, later recruited by Davos the Onion Knight to provide a fleet for Stannis. A cunning, realistic, and profit-driven fellow.
"Tell him we have no wine, and no business to discuss with highwaymen," Viserys ordered a loud-voiced warrior beside him. "Tell him to get out of the way."
The warrior's shout was met with a burst of crude laughter from the pirate ship. Saan wiped his beard, his voice laced with undisguised mockery, "No business, friend? What your ship carries, isn't that the best business? I see your ship and men are fine. How about this: leave half your cargo and one ship, and half your men, and I, Salladhor, guarantee the rest of you will leave this foggy area safely. How does that sound?"
However, his response was the creaking of bows and crossbows being strung and the sound of longswords being drawn on Viserys's ship. Saan's face darkened; he clearly hadn't expected such defiance. He waved his hand, and the surrounding pirate ships began to slowly close in, some pirates already raising their scimitars and grappling hooks.
"It seems you refuse a toast and prefer a forfeit," Saan spat. "Lads, prepare to board! Grab anything valuable, and throw anyone who resists into the sea to feed the crabs!"
The battle erupted almost instantly. The pirate ships, relying on their small size and flexibility, approached from multiple angles and boarded. Arrows began to whistle through the fog, and flaming arrows struck the gunwales and sails. Screams, the clang of weapons, and the grating noise of ships rubbing against each other shattered the silence of the sea.
Viserys did not stay in the relatively safe cabin. He grabbed "Blackfyre" and strode towards the most intense fighting on the starboard side. Several pirates had just swung across on ropes and leaped onto the deck, only to run straight into him. The burly leader roared and swung his blade, but Viserys merely sidestepped, and the heavy valyrian steel sword cut a dark arc. The pirate's shout ceased abruptly, along with his scimitar, which was cut in two. The movement was concise and elegant.
More pirates surged forward, but Viserys was like a merciless killing machine. "Blackfyre" seemed weightless in his hand; each swing carried immense power, either deflecting attacks or severing weapons and limbs. But he wasn't just blindly charging; his footwork also carried the lightness of the Water Dance, always appearing at the most needed position at the most opportune moment. Soon, the deck around him was cleared, and the brutally killed pirates and pools of blood sent shivers down the spines of the others.
Ser Arthur commanded the battle on the other side. His swordsmanship was even more seasoned and sharp; almost no pirate could withstand more than two exchanges against him. The other warriors on the ship were also well-trained, fighting in formation, repelling the boarding pirates again and again.
The battle lasted less than half an hour, but it was bloody and fierce. Although the pirates were brave, they lacked organization and sophisticated equipment, gaining no advantage against Viserys's elite force. They lost six small ships and suffered nearly a hundred casualties, while Viserys's side had only a few seriously wounded and some minor injuries.
Salladhor Saan himself was captured. When Viserys, holding the dripping "Blackfyre," fixed his gaze on him, Saan felt a chill run down his spine. The young man's eyes were terrifyingly calm, completely unfazed by having killed so many people. Viserys himself felt a little surprised, as this was the first time he had personally killed someone since coming to this world. Yet, he felt no discomfort; instead, there was a stirring sensation, as if he was greatly enjoying it all. He attributed this to the mad genes of the Targaryen bloodline at work. However, Viserys did not know that this was actually the release of the dark side accumulated in his previous life in that world.
"You win, my lord," Saan shouted, his voice devoid of its previous arrogance, leaving only defeat and a hint of flattery. "Please be lenient, I, Salladhor, was blind. I am willing to pay all reparations for this incident. And I am familiar with these waters; I can guide your ship. If you don't mind, I can also bring my men and join your command to serve you."
The sea wind ruffled his blood-stained coat. His overly bright eyes were now fixed on Viserys, awaiting a word that would grant him life.
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