Qartheen and the Dragon

Daeron

"Dracarys. Dracarys!" He exclaimed and watched Daegon smother the small piece of meat in flames, then swallowed it whole.

"Beautiful, my King," Doreah told him and he smiled, the woman blushed at his response.

It's been some time since they have been allowed inside of the city, some time since they have been starving in the Red Wastes. Now it's been wine, music and baths and a fresh pair of clothes too, almost too good to be true for him and the others, Jorah and Rakharo.

The '13' Were a strange group, sociable and would constantly invite them to parties. Today was an event held for him by Xaro, to welcome him into the city in an official way. It was tough to get used to all the modern and civil ways, since being on the road with his sister's husband and starving through the Red Wastes. It was much harder for his own Dothraki followers who knew nothing like this, just the ways of their people.

Looking right, he saw Doreah in a new outfit he purchased for her when they perused the markets. A green dress, shoulder-less and it left some of the cleavage open, it was distracting and he wondered why she wanted such a loose fitting thing. He blushed lightly thinking of those damned dirty thoughts. She looked back and smirked, caught him looking and he swiftly glanced left.

"Like what you see? Your Grace." She said to him and he was spooked, didn't think she was right behind him. She reached her arms around him and linked them together at his waist, he was even more uncomfortable and pulled away, chuckling nervously.

"I, uh. Have to go." He hurried away from the room after putting Daegon back in his cage, wanting to be away for a while. He met Irri and Rakharo at the manse entrance and told them he will be in the markets, unsafe but Ser Jorah will also be there too so he has someone to watch his back.

The city was truly a mystic place, so many people from different places and cultures. They live their days here, side by side like the world is never-ending, he was almost reminded of when he and his sister and Viserys stayed with Ser Willem in Braavos. That place, the manse there was like a small city, he and his sister would run and play in the gardens often when Viserys was away or was in a mood. He misses the Red Door, the place of paradise for him and his beloved sister.

It wasn't all good when Ser Darry died, they were forced from their home by the Iron Bank and on they went, from place to place and hiding from assassins in the shadows. Until Magister Illyrio allowed them inside his home to help them, his sister was starving and Viserys had sold their mothers crown, now that had worsened Viserys behavior most of all.

He was passing a corner and saw Jorah talking to a man, passing him a letter and he was confused among other things. Yet he approached the man either way. The Knight looked surprised to see him and hurried the man to go back to his business, then welcoming smile reappeared.

"Who was that?" He asked genuinely and Jorah quickly answered him.

"No one, a man I once met and I am sending a letter to his family." He partly believed him and partly didn't, but didn't pry any further. "What brings you here, my King." The title drop made him a little nervous, he shouldn't be called such by a friend.

"You are a true friend, you don't have to call me King. Daeron is fine, Jorah." He said and the knight frowned, why? Jorah looked around and then back to him.

"Yes, Daeron. Why are you here, without an escort because it is dangerous."

He told Jorah about the unnerving moment he had with Doreah, he laughed and he looked embarrassed. He hasn't had much 'interaction' with the opposite sex other than Dany but he held himself back in those times because she was too innocent, Doreah's advance in the manse was unnerving and he wished he reacted in a more manlier way than that.

Shortly after telling Jorah a 'funny' story about him failing they went to get ready for the gathering Xaro is planning. Irri and Rakharo wanted to stay, Jorah, some Dothraki, and Doreah wanted to come along. He dressed in some new clothes, pale white cloth cloak, furred and a gold vest, black buckling and pale white pants and black boots. The clothes were given to him by one of the Thirteen, though Xaro seemed the appropriate assumption.

He felt in place, at least in apparel besides the lack of hair he had. It's grown some but will be weeks before he has the long white hair he's had before, so he felt a little out of place in that area until he caught sight of a thin man, pale skin, and purple lips but paid him no mind when Jorah called to him.

"Daeron, these two said we could carve these gems and sell them for good coin, but one thinks the gold is worth more than the gems, " Jorah explained what the two Dothraki were saying and he widened his eyes, these three are fools if they are really talking about stealing from the people giving them shelter and he won't have anything happen.

"How about no, we are guests and should respect the ones letting us stay here." He suddenly felt eyes on him and turned around to see the same man from before, eyeing him like he might disappear at any moment. "Can I help you?" He asked him and the stranger smiled from ear to ear, it made him uncomfortable. He does remember the man's name from when they first met, Pyat Pree.

"I don't think you should be here with these baubles and pretenders. I would be more than joyful to welcome you to the House of the Undying, and your dragons too." The thin man's words sounded much too foreign to him, strange and how he wanted him to come to his home left a chill up his spine, he doesn't trust him and neither does his body. "In my home, there is a drink where you will gain much wisdom and any truths you seek, " Pyat added and he didn't feel any convinced to do so.

"Pyat. Do not trouble our guests with talk of mystics, farfetched and untrue." Xaro said from behind him, he mentally thanked the taller man. "Forgive my fellow member of the Thirteen, he is a Warlock and consumes Shade of the Evening, daily and I fear it's made his and his companions minds soft," Xaro spoke as they walked among the partiers with Jorah and his two Dothraki guards following behind but went their own.

The hours pass on and before they knew it, it was nightfall and they were coming back from the large vault Xaro was showing him. Jorah rejoined them once they came back out, waiting for them like a guard on duty but he seemed worried and he would ask about that later. Xaro stepped in front of him and had a questioning look on his face.

"I do have questions, if I may?" He heard the man ask and he was hesitant to allow, but he did.

"You may, this is your city and we are its guests." He admitted, keeping to his manners he's taken over the months he and his siblings stayed with the magister.

"You are King of Westeros, but you haven't left for home as of yet. May I ask why?" He didn't want to admit that he has not the gold or ships or men to make his goals happen, but from the look, the man was giving him he assumed Xaro already knew.

"Yes, I am it's King by all laws and rights. But I have not the strength to do so... " Xaro smiled widely at his situation, he narrowed his eyes on him then and wondered what the taller man was thinking.

"I can help with this, before coming here I had nothing but the boots and clothes on my back. I worked on these docks and on wayward ships, scraped and crawled to the fortune I have now. I would share this wealth with you, to buy ships and soldiers to go home to." He was tempted by Xaro's offer, it felt like it was too good to be true and by the worried glance he saw on Jorah, it seemed it was.

"There is a 'but', Isn't there? No one would aid in invading a country without a promise of something." He said and asked while adding to what he was saying, "What do you want in return for this, be blunt as you like." Xaro beamed a little and chuckled lightly.

"Had it been your sister, I would have asked to marry her. But you are the King, I only ask for a sum of land and a title, maybe a marriage to a Highborn Lady." The man was surely ambitious, he'll give Xaro that but would the Lords of Westeros want a foreigner to rule a kingdom? Surely if they resisted his ancestor then they will resist Xaro.

"Blunt as a hammer, you don't even know if we'll win... " He said with doubt and the man's smirk became wider and stood tall, "What do you know?" He asked.

"The opportunity has arisen for you, my King. Robert Baratheon is dead."

Jorah

He and Daeron were in a heated argument, he knows what he is doing is the harder choice but it's the right choice.

This Xaro has offered to aid in their future invasion of Westeros, he is conflicted yet and has truthfully sent a letter of their location to Varys. He shouldn't betray the boy, the memory of the true Queen frowning at him haunts his dreams but he misses home just as much as Daeron, who's never seen an inch of the land he was born on.

Robert is dead, Varys sent him the letter but this man that Daeron is willing to surrender a Kingdom too is a dangerous choice. They should work on their own instead of taking what others give, its a lesson he's learned since his time of exile before coming into the service of the last dragons.

"Robert is dead. The Starks fight the Lannisters and Baratheon's fight each other. Jorah, the time to strike is now!" Daeron said with his eyes beaming in excitement, excitement leads to rash decisions and he can't let Daeron do this and ruin his reign before it even begins to take shape.

"Once you take what the rich offer they will own you forever, the road I suggest is harder to walk but it is the right one." Daeron scoffed, turning to his dragons after entering the home they had been given. "Daeron, I know you want to achieve your sister's dream. Yet I can't let you make irrational decisions that will hurt your reign before it begins." He asked the younger man, Daeron kept his eyes on his dragons and seemed to have no mind to hear him until he responded to his request.

"I am no child, do not speak to me like one." Now he is acting like a child, Daeron walked past him.

"Daeron I only want- " He tried to say, to speak his piece but the young dragon didn't want to hear him.

"What do you want? Tell me." He stunted for words then but recovered quickly.

"To see you on the Iron Throne, because you have a claim- A birthright!" He exclaimed, his King stifled and scoffed again. "But you have something more, you may cover or deny it but you have a gentle heart. In your reign, you will not only be respected and feared but loved. There were times when I would look at you and Daenerys and still not believe such a thing was real." Daeron watched him, hesitant and angry because it is somewhat true since he's known them he saw Daenerys and Daeron share many things.

"What do I do? As my adviser, please tell me." He was asked and looked to the ground.

"You need to find your own way. A single ship is enough to take us to Westeros because that's where our support is, not Qarth." He said to Daeron who still looked unsure but seems to be turning around, a good thing.

"Where do we get one?" Daeron asked him, he smiled and stood tall.

"I'll get one for us, a good vessel and a sound captain." Daeron stared into the openness of nothing for a long moment before setting his eyes back on Jorah, a determination is evident in his students violet eyes.

"I'll be glad to meet him, now let us spar. It's been some time and I need the practice."

On that, he will agree wholeheartedly.

That Night

The messenger carrying Jorah's letter for Varys was getting close to the docks where he would go to Westeros, the man didn't get far before being dragged into an alley and his throat then slit. Blood spilled and spattered onto the street as the messenger breathed his last and went limp not three minutes after, the attacker let go of the body and looked for the letter and took it away from the corpse, stepping away from the dead and walking away.

Jorah threw the letter into a brazier, letting it contents burn into ash. He's made a decision to stay loyal to his King, King Daeron of the House Targaryen.

He won't be weak-willed anymore.