Beyond her breathtaking beauty, Daenerys possessed a unique power that made one's hair stand on end and compelled people to kneel and obey. Only those who experienced it firsthand would understand: there truly was such a thing as a "king's aura" in this world.
Watching her from not far off, Petyr Baelish realized that it wasn't merely chance or luck that had allowed this young Targaryen girl to cross half of Essos in just a year, transforming from a barbarian's consort to a woman with an army, three dragons, and countless legendary titles.
Even though this wasn't the first time he had seen her, Petyr still felt a chill when in close proximity to the queen. This was no illusion, he didn't even need to see her face to know that the person astride the silver mare, basking in the crowd's cheers, was a queen, not just any woman.
---
After selling off his remaining assets in Braavos, the former Master of Coin disguised himself and traveled south, passing through the Andals and arriving in Pentos. There, he bought some daily necessities and prepared to leave the western coast of Essos, which was swarming with Westerosi merchants who might recognize him at any moment. His plan was to head east toward Norvos or Qohor, to conceal his identity and begin a second, perhaps dull, chapter of his life.
However, just two days after leaving the city, while camping outdoors, he was ambushed in his sleep by several unidentified men. They took him back to Pentos and put him aboard a ship.
At first, Petyr thought Robert's bounty hunters had finally caught him and were taking him back for trial. He was so desperate he nearly took his own life. But his sharp instincts soon noticed that the ship wasn't crossing the Narrow Sea, but was instead heading south along the western coast of Essos, eventually turning east.
Not long after, the mysterious figure responsible for his capture revealed the true purpose of the journey. The ship would sail to Slaver's Bay, where he was to find Daenerys Targaryen and join her cause. He was to assist the trueborn daughter of House Targaryen and, at the right moment, help lead her back to Westeros to reclaim the Iron Throne.
Having one's fate so utterly manipulated was a miserable experience. But now, a small man like him had left the land he had long controlled and come to a strange and foreign continent. His final bit of wealth had been confiscated. He had no power, no influence, and though clever, nowhere to apply his talents. If he left the group that had captured him, he might not even survive a week.
In desperation, he decided to temporarily comply with the arrangements made by the mysterious force behind the scenes.
...
...
The ship docked at Yunkai, but unfortunately, Daenerys and her army had already marched to Meereen. Under the "protection" of the strongman Belwas, Petyr spent half a month trudging through the desert, eventually arriving at Meereen and declaring his loyalty to the queen.
Their first meeting was far from pleasant. As both a greeting and a means of protecting himself, Petyr immediately exposed Jorah Mormont as a spy. This enraged Daenerys, and her most trusted knight fell from grace instantly. He was removed from her side and sent into Meereen's sewers to support the infiltration from within.
Unfortunately, other than earning him a tent and food, the accusation didn't win Petyr her trust. As Daenerys herself put it, "A man who exposes a liar might be an even bigger liar."
Then came a miracle. Right before Petyr's eyes, the Dragon Queen, who had already defied expectations more than once, worked yet another wonder without uttering a word. Relying on men hidden in the sewers and a single wooden stake, she captured Meereen—an unconquerable city—overnight. At sunrise, she began the ceremony of her entrance.
In the square before the Great Pyramid, the slave masters dragged from their beds huddled together in despair. Under the morning light, the so-called "great masters" looked nothing like lords. Stripped of their jewelry and robes, they appeared humble, ugly, and ridiculous, like a pack of shaven monkeys.
"I want your leaders," the Dragon Queen said, halting her horse before the square and shouting at the captives. "Hand them over, and I will spare the rest."
"How many?" an old woman sobbed. "How many will you spare?"
"One hundred and sixty-three," Daenerys answered. "All of them impaled around the square, each one pointing at the next, just like the children we saw on the road to Meereen!"
The captives screamed and shoved each other, but the Unsullied, devoid of emotion, rushed in and dragged out the core members of each noble family. They counted out 163 and threw them aside. Some cursed, some begged for mercy, and others collapsed in filth, wetting themselves in terror.
Petyr frowned.
What was this? Just two days ago, he had been stunned by the sight of three dragons grown to the size of men and thousands of well-trained Unsullied. He had also watched Daenerys conquer Meereen with ease. That had loosened his resistance. Perhaps, if he obeyed the plan of the mysterious force behind his capture, followed this last Targaryen, and assisted her, he might yet return to the royal council—or even, perhaps, to the Iron Throne itself?
But just as he began to think this queen might be worth following and was preparing to gain her favor, she was now performing a public act of "stupidity and self-destruction"?
"Your Grace," Petyr couldn't help but shout from among the queen's followers. "I heard of what you saw on your way to Meereen, and I understand that your heart is filled with the fury of a true dragon. But I must speak plainly—every time you nail a great master to a stake, you move one step closer to being nailed to the stake yourself!"
The Unsullied, the mercenaries, and the many freed slaves moved aside so Daenerys could see the speaker clearly. The Dragon Queen gazed coldly at the former Master of Coin who had defected from across the Narrow Sea.
"This is justice. A life for a life. Did you come all this way just to plead for these slavers?"
"No, I have no intention of speaking for those who mean nothing to me. On the contrary, I believe not a single one of them should be spared. All deserve death, not just one hundred sixty-three!"
The moment those words left his mouth, the great masters dragged from the crowd erupted in panic. Even among Daenerys's own followers, dissenting voices emerged. The Dragon Queen had thought she was being confronted by a voice of moderation, only to find herself face to face with a more radical revolutionary. She was caught off guard.
"No, among them there must be innocents. I want justice, not slaughter."
"Then, Your Grace, since we differ, would you be willing to detain them for now and hear my reasoning before making your final decision?"
"Hmph." A strikingly handsome mercenary at the queen's side stood up and sneered. "The queen is far too noble to waste time listening to a treacherous snake like you."
"Yes, I've heard there is some unsavory gossip about me in Westeros, but those are malicious slanders." Littlefinger didn't recognize the mercenary who had spoken but stood tall in the crowd, raising his head to meet Daenerys's gaze. "And even if those rumors are true, so what? The man I was said to have poisoned was Jon Arryn, who helped Robert the Usurper overthrow House Targaryen—your enemy. Faced with a man who crossed the Narrow Sea to find you, would the noble Queen Daenerys not have the time or patience to sit and listen to my thoughts, to see if we can work together?"
…
Daenerys despised provocation. She had no interest in hearing from a man who had seduced another's wife and conspired with her to steal her husband's life and fortune. Even if the deceased was a servant of the Usurper—her enemy—it did not change her revulsion. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend" was not a rule to be applied so broadly. She was a person first, and only then a Targaryen.
She was displeased but, seeing the eyes of her soldiers and the freed slaves fixed on her, decided to give this man a chance to speak. Regardless of what he said, she had already resolved to take the lives of those 163 slavers.
"Imprison them all, and separate the 163 from the rest." Daenerys, astride her silver horse, gestured toward the Great Pyramid at the center of the city. "Petyr Baelish? Come, let me hear your words."
---
Later, in the reception hall of the Great Pyramid of Meereen, Daenerys sat in the plush seat of the city's former ruler, staring at Petyr Baelish with disdain.
"Well then, former Master of Coin for the Usurper. What do you suggest I do with those slavers? Speak."
Petyr looked around but saw nowhere to sit. Daenerys's guards watched him with suspicion. He had no choice but to suppress his irritation and answer standing.
"Your Grace, in the slave camp you—"
"They are not slaves. They are free men."
"Well, after living among your Free Men's Army for two days, I've learned something of your actions in Astapor and Yunkai. First, allow me to express my admiration. At your age, you've already mastered the use of virtue and benevolence to mobilize the lowest of the low to serve you."
How had he turned "liberating slaves" into "using virtue and benevolence to mobilize slaves to serve you"? Daenerys was irritated but didn't know how to counter it, so she simply glared at him in silence.
"It's unfortunate. You seized two slave cities through the same method, but left the people there no way to survive. Then you hastily marched to Meereen…"
"No way to survive?" Daenerys shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "I established councils for both Astapor and Yunkai."
"You did, but you left them without armies or any means of sustenance."
The respectful tone in Petyr's voice gradually faded. During the two days in the camp, he had prepared a full speech to win the queen's favor. But Daenerys's rash order of "one hundred and sixty-three" during their second meeting had unsettled him deeply. Aiding her in reclaiming Westeros would be a dream but before gambling his life on it, he needed to determine one crucial thing:
Was Daenerys a queen worthy of allegiance, or just an arrogant, headstrong girl who relied on her looks and three dragons to do as she pleased—a female Mad King?
(To be continued.)
***
For every 200 PS = 1 extra chapter. Support me on P/treon to read 30+ advanced chapters: p-atreon.c-om/Blownleaves
(Just remove the hyphen to access normally.)