CHAPTER 7

c7: The Prince of Pentos

"What should I call you, butler?"

It wasn't until noon the following day that Viserys, having waited for Illyrio's arrival in vain and now driven by hunger, feigned just waking up. He emerged from the bedroom and, by chance, encountered the same butler who had received the dragonbone artifact on Illyrio's behalf during the welcome feast. The man was now directing a pair of maids along the corridor, his bearing ever composed and practiced.

The butler offered a slight bow. "You may call me 'butler,' honored guest."

Viserys tilted his head. "You must have a name, though?"

The butler repeated with a crisp, almost honeyed tone, "Please, just 'butler,' honored guest. The master has instructed that if you require anything, I am to assist."

Viserys offered an ambiguous smile. "That's quite the name, then."

The man inclined his head again with that unfaltering smile, waiting patiently for orders, his presence like a statue carved from decorum and secrecy.

Abandoning the matter of names, Viserys asked, "Where is your master?"

The butler responded smoothly, as if the answer had been rehearsed: "The master departed early this morning on business. He didn't mention when he would return. He asks your indulgence while you await him."

"I see," Viserys replied flatly, then shifted the topic with a deliberate tone. "Did your master mention anything about lunch?"

Of course, Viserys would be mad to go out of his way to seek Illyrio. Their last interaction had ended with blood and strange magic, and for now, Illyrio seemed content to give him space. That suited Viserys just fine. Let Illyrio think he was recuperating or adapting. That time could be used on the surface, at least for building himself back up.

The butler replied dutifully, "Lunch is my responsibility, honored guest. Would you prefer to dine in the grand hall or have your meal brought to your quarters?"

"Ah, Governor Illyrio is as thoughtful as ever," Viserys mused, then gave his answer: "I'll dine in the restaurant."

The butler inclined his head. "Very good. Do you require a guide?"

Viserys waved the suggestion away. "No, I remember the way."

With a respectful nod, the butler turned and left, his robes whispering along the polished floor.

One maid remained behind, sweeping silently.

On the surface, Illyrio appeared generous with the Targaryen siblings. There were no obvious restrictions, no overt guards posted to shadow their movements. They were permitted to roam the courtyard freely a sign either of confidence or manipulation. Viserys decided on lunch in the dining hall precisely for this reason. Afterward, he planned to map out the courtyard boundaries, probe for any veiled limitations.

The moment the butler vanished around the corner, a door behind Viserys creaked open. Out stepped Daenerys, her frame as delicate as a reed swaying in wind. "Brother," she greeted softly.

Her words were few, her movements quieter still. Her gaze flickered toward the cleaning maid, then dropped. Without further exchange, she silently moved to Viserys's side, obedient as a shadow.

He gave her a nod. "You must be hungry. Let's eat."

Without waiting for a reply, he started toward the restaurant.

She fell in step beside him. From her drawn look, it was clear she'd been awake long before he emerged but hadn't dared leave her room uninvited. Likely she had gone hungry since morning, trapped in caution.

Lunch consisted of grilled river fish with lemon, thick slabs of roasted pork, honey-buttered bread still warm from the oven, and sweet red wine rich, indulgent, and unmistakably Pentoshi in flavor.

In the vast restaurant, only Viserys and Daenerys dined, with the ever-present butler attending discreetly.

Viserys spoke as he cut into his food: "Butler, doesn't Illyrio's family live here?"

The man paused just briefly only a blink before replying, "This is but one of the master's many properties, honored guest."

Viserys looked up. "Oh?"

He said no more, but the brief delay in the butler's answer didn't go unnoticed not by him, and not by Daenerys.

Daenerys, listening carefully, found her thoughts stirring. Viserys had changed since the lightning strike more distant, less predictable. His words were cryptic now, like his warning the night before: "If you want to protect a secret, don't act like you have a secret to protect." She understood the surface meaning but deeper still, she suspected it had been directed not just at her, but at anyone who might be listening.

She hadn't slept well.

Now, the butler's momentary hesitation had triggered something in her a warning bell that her brother's odd behavior wasn't without reason. There were layers to everything now.

After lunch, Viserys finally broke the silence once more, dabbing his lips with a cloth. "Butler, I'd like to take a walk through the courtyard. May I?"

The butler responded with practiced courtesy, "Honored guest, you are free to go where you please. You need not ask my permission."

Viserys nodded. "Excellent."

The butler then asked, "Would you prefer an escort?"

Viserys did not refuse. "Sure."

And so, with Daenerys by his side and the butler trailing at a respectful distance, Viserys began to walk through the courtyard promenade.

The estate was sprawling, enclosed by three redbrick walls and a cliff that overlooked the shimmering Narrow Sea. Three gates served the compound: the front gate, massive and reinforced with black iron, was closed tight and flanked by a small guard station where two men sat with swords resting by their sides. Another led to a private garden filled with citrus trees and fountains. The third smaller, more discreet was a back gate near the kennels, where several hounds rested in the shade.

Viserys paused at the main entrance, watching.

The guards glanced at him, then looked away without a word. Their postures were relaxed, but their hands never strayed far from the hilts of their swords. Their vigilance was subtle but undeniable these weren't sellswords bought off the docks. They were disciplined. Possibly household men loyal not to coin, but to Illyrio himself.

Viserys didn't linger. He didn't know what lay beyond the gate whether more guards stood outside, or what level of surveillance surrounded the property.

He would find out soon enough.

Viserys roughly estimated the courtyard's size. By his judgment, it spanned an area equal to four or five Westerosi tilting yards or, in more modern terms, about the size of several clustered training fields at Castle Black. The walls enclosing it were tall, solidly built from reddish stone, and carefully designed to conceal and isolate. From inside, one couldn't glimpse the city of Pentos beyond the walls, and from outside, the estate gave no sign of life within. It was the perfect holding ground for valuable or dangerous guests.

From the perspective of concealing people of importance, the compound was ideal: cut off from the outside world, cloaked in discretion.

As they walked, neither the butler nor Daenerys said a word. Viserys, growing bored of the silence, finally spoke: "You're a quiet one, butler."

He had already begun to suspect the butler, like the two guards posted at the main gate, may have once been Unsullied or trained in a similar discipline. They shared the same quiet discipline and unwavering focus. Viserys doubted Illyrio had assigned them purely for hospitality. They were likely there to serve, yes but also to observe, to report.

What? Not taking mental notes? Not going to run and tell your master what I say?

The butler offered a courteous, subdued response: "Forgive me, honored guest."

Then he fell silent again.

Viserys changed the subject, trying another angle. "I heard Pentos has its own king?"

The butler replied in his usual polished tone, "Yes, honored guest. He is known as the Prince of Pentos."

Viserys arched a brow with feigned curiosity. "Have you seen him with your own eyes?"

"I have, from a respectful distance," the butler said. "I once saw him carried through the city in a litter of ivory and gold, during the Feast of the Maiden's Tears."

Viserys gave a short, amused exhale. "So he's the most powerful man in Pentos?"

The butler paused not long, but just enough for Viserys to notice before answering, "I am but a humble servant, honored guest. I would not presume to know the politics of great men."

Viserys smirked, reading between the lines. "You're not from Pentos, then?"

"Pentos is a city of trade," the butler replied. "Many who live here come from elsewhere, honored guest."

Viserys kept his tone light but prodding. "Is your master Illyrio one of them? Not originally from Pentos?"

This time, the answer came with crisp haste. "I am but a house steward. I know little of my lord's origins, honored guest."

Viserys narrowed his eyes slightly but said nothing more on that. Instead, he changed tack again. "I heard something strange about Pentos. They say that if the gods are angered when harvests fail or armies fall they slit the prince's throat to appease divine wrath. Is that true?"

Before the butler could respond, Daenerys who had been trailing silently suddenly stumbled and gave a small, startled cry.

Viserys halted immediately and turned. "What is it, Daenerys?"

"I…" She looked up, panic flickering in her violet eyes. Her voice was small. "I'm sorry."

The butler stepped forward, knelt to her side, and examined her foot with clinical detachment. "It appears to be sprained. I'll need to adjust the position and apply pressure, my lady."

Daenerys froze, uncertain, and looked to Viserys.

He stepped in, helping her stand. "I'll help her back," he said with quiet command. "Is there anything for bruising? Go fetch it."

The butler lingered a second too long, then nodded. "As you wish. I shall return shortly."

As he walked away, Daenerys murmured, "I'm sorry."

Viserys kept his face composed. "There's nothing to apologize for."

Truthfully, he didn't enjoy playing the part of protector to a frail girl. But appearances mattered. His character the old Viserys would have barked at her for being clumsy. But change, even slow change, had to begin somewhere.

And, for now, Daenerys's obedience served a purpose. In her meekness, she didn't make mistakes or draw attention. She said little, thought too much, and worried in a way anyone with eyes could see. That was useful.

Perhaps moved by his rare moment of softness, Daenerys finally asked the question she'd been holding in all morning. "How long will we stay here?"

Viserys gave her the truth, unvarnished. "A long time."

Her shoulders slumped. "But… you don't trust him."

Viserys glanced around, then replied in a colder voice, "Dany, don't say foolish things. The princes of Pentos live better than we ever did. That's enough."

He gripped her arm, not violently, but firmly. "I don't need you to do anything. Just keep your mouth shut."

She obeyed, falling quiet again.

This poor girl had spent too much of her life under the shadow of that old Viserys the one before the lightning, before the stranger who now wore his skin. She had been shaped by fear and control, and now she couldn't function without them.

Viserys, feeling a tight knot in his chest, still maintained a cold exterior.

He helped her back to her room his grip steady but unkind. Her small arm would likely bear a mark by nightfall.

Shortly after they returned and Daenerys sat on the edge of the bed, the butler returned with a basin of clean water, linen cloths, and a jar of ointment.

"Please, my lady, remove your shoes."

The butler knelt beside her, reaching for her ankle.

Before he could touch her, Viserys intervened sharply. "No. Not you. Get a maid."

The butler looked up in surprise, momentarily unsure if he had offended. But then, reading the unyielding expression on Viserys's face, he lowered his head. "Forgive me. I meant no disrespect, honored guest."

Daenerys sat quietly, absorbing the exchange. She dared a glance at her brother's face only to quickly avert her eyes when she saw him start to turn toward her.

He said nothing, his expression unreadable.

One hand idly touched the dragonbone pendant on his wrist, his mind clearly elsewhere.

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