[This chapter used to be called "Checkmate". In truth, most of the Pentos arc was practically me using chapters from a fanfic called "Game of Thrones: The Prideful One" as a template. When I first started writing the story, I had no intention of publishing it, so I didn't care where the words came from as long as they expressed my ideas. But now that I've progressed, I feel the need to rewrite these scenes so that they're entirely my own. Don't worry, though—the plot won't change much, since it will still follow the show fairly closely. Thank you all for reading and for your understanding.]
The days in Pentos passed quickly and peacefully for Vlad. His marital situation with Daenerys hadn't progressed much, but the girl seemed genuinely happy with her new life. Even though she preferred a more luxurious lifestyle, she was determined to adapt to the Dothraki way: she rode nearly every day, accompanied by her guards, and personally went out to purchase whatever supplies the camp needed. It must be said that although the Dothraki were barbaric and brutish, they did not disdain her efforts. In fact, the men who had brought her along seemed to genuinely appreciate her—whether for her looks or her personality.
As for Vlad, he spent his days calmly, continuing to study the ritual to awaken the dragons. He had summoned his horde to come to Pentos to resupply before departing for Vaes Dothrak, so he had almost three months of margin before they arrived.
Unfortunately, this didn't seem to please the boy king, who complained loudly and incessantly, demanding that the men arrive sooner. Vlad barely restrained the urge to slap him. How did he expect his men to travel faster across the continent? By flying?
Viserys' constant whining was becoming increasingly annoying, and he was often seen having secret conversations with Illyrio about how Vlad wasn't holding up his end of the bargain, and that it would be quicker to find another way to get an army.
Vlad chose not to interfere with these pathetic conspiracies, because in truth, Viserys was nothing more than a weak and ridiculous man. So he continued with his routine.
All was going well. A week after the wedding, Vlad met with his men in the courtyard to drink and celebrate. Celebrate what? It didn't matter. The men simply wanted an excuse to relax, and Vlad didn't mind being a little more permissive.
He sat surrounded by his men around the fire, even Jorah Mormont, who had coincidentally entered Daenerys' service, was among them. Viserys and Daenerys herself drank quietly amidst laughter.
Jorah and the bloodriders were having a lively debate about whether the arakh or the sword was better, depending on the situation. Jorah defended the sword, arguing it was more versatile and designed to pierce the joints in armor. Talan, one of the bloodriders, considered wearing armor to be cowardly, claiming it made any warrior slow. But when Jorah pointed out that armor could also keep one alive, Talan couldn't argue against it.
Vlad watched the scene with a smile and a cup of wine in his hand. The men seemed content, and that was enough.
Jorah leaned slightly toward Daenerys with a warm smile on his lips.
—I must admit, my queen, you've learned to ride quite quickly, —he said as he raised his cup—. You're doing well; the men will respect you more for it.
Daenerys laughed modestly, then spoke in broken Dothraki:
—I'm not a queen, Jorah. I'm a khaleesi, and a khaleesi must know how to ride.
The men around the fire, mostly Dothraki, looked impressed by the little queen who was learning their language so quickly. Perhaps it was the wine, but they decided to toast to her. They were delighted that their new khaleesi was integrating so well, despite her appearance.
—And you're learning Dothraki quite fast, —Jorah added with a chuckle.
Talan nodded in approval, while another rider clanged his cup against a metal bowl of roasted meat in a gesture of recognition.
Viserys, who had remained quiet until then, tensed upon seeing his sister surrounded by praise. He drank quickly, without enjoying the wine, as if needing an excuse to tolerate the scene. The compliments toward Daenerys were starting to push his patience to the limit.
—What's so great about learning the language of these savages? —he snapped, already half-drunk—. You bow to her like she's some whore from Lys.
Silence fell instantly. Even the riders stopped laughing, and Vlad glanced at him from the corner of his eye without moving, one eyebrow barely raised.
Vlad was about to make a remark, but Daenerys spoke first.
—Be careful how you speak of them, brother. They are my people now, —Daenerys said softly, without raising her voice. Perhaps the wine had given her some courage.
The comment hit Viserys like a slap. He stood up so quickly that he knocked over his cup, spilling wine on one of the riders' tunics.
—How dare you give me orders? Do you think you're something now because you're queen of these savages? I am the dragon! The dragon! How dare you speak to me like that? —he shouted, eyes bloodshot and his hand trembling as he pointed at everyone.
No one replied. The Dothraki looked at him with a mix of disdain and amusement, while Jorah lowered his gaze in resignation.
—Mind your tone when speaking to my wife, boy, —Vlad said in a calm, soft voice, but his eyes promised pain.
Viserys knew that arguing with his sister was one thing—but Vlad was another matter. So he merely scoffed, turned awkwardly, and walked off, muttering to himself.
The feast continued even after Viserys left. There was a bit of tension at first, but it soon melted into the soft rhythm of drums, Dothraki chants, and the scent of roasted meat. Vlad didn't drink, but smiled pleasantly each time the riders raised their cups in honor of their khaleesi. Daenerys, still blushing from the earlier scene, seemed more determined to show strength in front of everyone.
But as the night wore on and the fire began to wane, Daenerys stood, wiped her hands on a cloth, and stepped away from the circle without saying a word. Vlad saw her leave but didn't stop her.
The camp, now quieter, was bathed in shadow, lit only by slowly burning torches. Daenerys walked quickly, though her chest was tight with emotion. Her brother had always been irritable, but she wanted to make peace; after all, they were family.
She reached Viserys' tent. The curtain of fabric was slightly open, revealing shadows inside. She paused, then pushed it aside gently.
Viserys was on his knees, hunched over an open chest, hastily stuffing the three dragon eggs into a leather bag. Daenerys blinked, not immediately understanding what she was seeing.
—What are you doing? —she asked quietly.
Viserys jumped, turning awkwardly. He was sweaty, pale, and glassy-eyed from the wine.
—Oh, it's you, —he spat—. I'm leaving and I'm taking the eggs.
—Are you insane? —she stepped forward, alarmed—. What do you want them for, to sell?
—Yes! —he shouted with a crooked, dangerous smile—. I'll sell them, buy a ship, and pay for an army. Vlad hasn't kept his end of the deal. He said he'd gather his men and we'd have our throne! But there's no one! Nothing!
—The men are coming, —Daenerys replied, trying to stay calm—. They're on their way. Be reasonable, brother.
—Don't give me orders! —he snapped, waving his free hand—. Don't defend that savage! He's brainwashed you! He's got you playing house while I have nothing!
—You can't take the eggs, —Daenerys said, stepping back—. Vlad will kill you if you do.
—DON'T GIVE ME ORDERS! —Viserys stood up, swaying, his face twisted with rage and wine—. I am the dragon! I am the true king and that savage should bow before me!
Suddenly, he drew his sword, pointing it toward Daenerys, making her gasp in fear.
—Come with me, —he said abruptly, the tip trembling as it moved toward her neck—. We'll go back to Braavos. I'll marry you to some rich noble. Someone who knows his place. Not that beast who has you under a spell.
—I don't want to marry anyone else, —Daenerys whispered.
—It doesn't matter what you want! —Viserys stepped forward, and the sword tip grazed her neck. It wasn't intentional—just a clumsy movement from his drunken state. But it was enough to leave a small cut that started bleeding immediately.
Daenerys gasped, bringing a hand to her neck, eyes wide with shock and fear. Viserys froze, as if finally realizing what he'd done.
Then the atmosphere changed.
The torches flickered once, then began to go out one by one. The wind howled suddenly, lifting dust and making the tent fabric tremble. The shadows stretched, vibrating as if coming to life.
Viserys looked around, confused, swaying.
—What… what is this?
Suddenly, Vlad appeared out of nowhere, his face twisted with rage and his golden eyes glowing like fire. Before anyone could say a word, Viserys felt as if a hammer had smashed into his face.