One Fame at a Time

Daeron

"No?"

"Yes, I am grateful for the offer but I have decided otherwise."

He was here today to tell Xaro that he was declining his offer, thinking back on it he's noticed the price would be too much to pay... Even for a King.

Jorah was about at the docks, looking for this good ship and sound captain to take him and his people to Westeros. He will admit that it's been both strenuous and beautiful here, but he has his duty to the realm and Essos might have been his home for the last many years but Westeros is his home and he needs to take it from those that would hold it.

Irri and Doreah are preparing for their leaving while Kovarro and Rakharo accompanied him to speak with Xaro, he wished he wasn't leaving without an army but it cant be helped now. Xaro was visibly shocked, sitting back into his chair with a thinking face whilst his eyes were trained on him.

"I wish there was a way to convince you, I really want to help." He sort of lost his patience here, getting himself indebted to someone isn't help, its stupidity.

"At what price? A whole Kingdom? Titles and riches? It's a heavy price, my Lord. I am grateful for you and the thirteen allowing me and my people to stay." He sat up from the chair and bowed his head, "Yet I'm afraid I must find my own way as a friend once said to me, not long ago."

Before leaving he thought he might hasten the search for a ship, he asked for Xaro to speak with the other leading men and women of Qarth so they may find him a ship.

The walk back to the manse was calm and peaceful with the streets being busy, he got back and found everyone moving things around they had bought or were given to them by the nobility of Qarth. He smiled as some were genuinely happy to leave this place despite how perfect the city is, no doubt there will be more in Westeros when he and the others return.

He made it to the room and Doreah ran past, huffing and clearly upset so he stopped her by gently taking her arm. She looked at him, no happiness but is cordial all the same.

"What is the matter? Why so upset, Doreah." He asked her and she refused to speak, only tugging her arm away and walking down the steps and out of the manses doors. He continued his way up and saw Irri putting some stuff into a chest, "What is the matter with Doreah? I had thought she would be happy with leaving here." He inquired and Irri turned and remained silent until she found her words.

"She does not want to leave, she's said she wants to stay here," Irri told him in some broken common tongue she had been learning since they've arrived here, he folded his arms and gave thought to what Doreah wanted and what he and the others wanted.

If it is Doreah's wish then he cannot stop her. He chose to leave some possessions she can sell for quite a bit of coin, and the manse too. He chose to tell her the next day, the night was coming and she would need to come back sooner or later, one hour became two which became six and seven until he fell asleep in her bed. He woke up the next morning, groggy and worried because she didn't come back so she told Kovarro and Rakharo to get ready and that they would be going out to find her.

Instead at the front of the manse, they found Xaro waiting for them, and guards of his own by his side. He stopped and bowed his head in respect to the man, Xaro did the same.

"I'm glad you're here. The Thirteen has decided to offer you a ship of your choosing, their captains await you in the main palace." He suddenly forgot about Doreah, too excited that Xaro found them a ship and captain. He sent Kovarro to find Jorah and tell him the news whilst he and Xaro went to meet with these captains.

Tyrion

He was enjoying his day, preparing the city for the siege when he was called by his nephew to walk with him and Varys too.

"The Master of Whispers, you're supposed to know everything!" His nephew exclaimed, besot with irritation as always and he had thought his nephew would be calm after the other night when he sent him a birthday gift or two actually.

"No man can be in all rooms at all times. I have many little birds in the north, I have not heard from them since Theon Greyjoy captured Winterfell." Varys informed Joffrey who scoffed out a response full of sarcasm and agitation, he still being a 'cunt' as Bronn would say.

"The Stark forces are distracted. Now is the time to strike!" Joffrey spouted with a small hint of excitement and he couldn't help but roll his eyes, a right royal prick he is.

Yes. The little prisoner and squire took the ancestral seat of House Stark, nothing much from that end though since the boy had killed all of the ravens. To him, it hasn't hindered the northern army much besides losing their trails back home, but his nephew seems to think otherwise, and Cersei too for that matter.

"To strike? My dear nephew, you do realize we are preparing the city for siege. You do understand Stannis Baratheon is sailing this way?" Joffrey huffed and puffed his chest in response to his questioning the boy's words from before, like any young man his age.

"If my uncle Stannis sails to the shores of King's Landing I'll ride out to meet him." If only smirks and bluster can win battles, then his families survival is all but assured.

Some more was said and Joffrey walked on ahead, his Kingsguard following behind like obedient dogs following their owner. He and Varys looked out from the edge of a wall, sighting their eyes onto the seas as he worries for his survival in the next several days. He and Varys shared some banter, playing games as he so much enjoyed to do with the eunuch nowadays with so much seriousness in the world. The banter ended when Varys tone and expression became serious, offering him a look.

"This morning I heard a song." He turned to look at Varys, curious to hear it. "All the way from Qarth? Beyond the Red Waste... Daeron, Daenerys twin brother lives." He hid it but that is some terrifying news, if it were the sister then he wouldn't be so alert but this is a boy, a boy with a powerful and a legitimate claim to the Iron Throne of Westeros.

"A boy at the edge of the world is the least of our problems." He was sure of it until Varys told him more news, foreboding news.

"She has three dragons, just as Aegon did before he conquered the Seven Kingdoms." Suddenly the Spymasters tone became lax again, turning and leaning on the edge. "Even still, it will be years before they are fully grown. Then, then there will be nowhere to hide." He couldn't help but agree, a Targaryen and three grown dragons are something to fear but as of right now, they have other important enemies to face.

"... One game at a time, my friend."

Daeron

He couldn't believe such rudeness, the Thirteen were rude this time other than the other meetings of cheerful attitudes.

They treated him with indifference, his refusal to accept their help had caused a stir and saw it as a slight. He was agitated and Jorah and the other two saw it, Xaro was following behind and begging him to forgive them for the man's friends rudeness.

Jorah told him he had found a ship, finally. They just need enough gold to make it so, it will be a two to three-month journey and will be somewhat perilous what with pirates and other. He ignored Xaro's attempts at an apology and went inside the manse and was horrified at what he had seen, it truly atrocious.

Dead. Everyone was dead, even the guards Xaro had left was slain as well. "Irri! Doreah!" He cried out as Xaro said he was going to alert the city guard, he ran up the steps with the others in search of his two friends and found more horror for on the ground was Irri, choked and still as a statue. Rakharo cried out in anger and grief, holding his woman close to his chest.

It was then when he turned and saw something amiss, his expression became cold and then panicked as he rushed towards the open and emptied cages of Daegon, Raeleris and Wildfyre were gone and his knees buckled beneath him. Jorah rushed over to see if he was alright, but he only offered rage in the wake of grief.

Someone stole his dragons, someone in this city slew Irri and from the looks of it had taken Doreah captive. He will turn this city inside out to get them back, he turned to Xaro who had returned with more guards to protect them, two of the Thirteen were there. He huffed and rose to his feet, clenching his fists so tight that his hands began to bleed trickles of blood. His anger and grief were the same feelings he felt when he lost his sister so long ago.

"My dragons are gone! Where are my dragons!"

Later On...

A cloaked individual walked the steps going to a walled area, a single large tower shadowed the sunlight as he continued whilst three screeching dragons were heard from the box he was carrying.

Daeron, Father of Dragons and the Seaborn will want them. He may come and take them if he wishes... But the young lord will not leave, he will never leave.