As the blue-sailed merchant ship continued eastward, the surrounding sea lanes grew increasingly crowded with passing vessels.
Perhaps because Petyr's family had originally come from the continent of Essos across the Narrow Sea, he felt an unexpected sense of familiarity as the deep harbor of Pentos gradually came into view.
Gohor's prosperity had, in turn, fueled the flourishing trade of Pentos.
Ships packed the harbor like fish crammed into a basket.
Petyr had arrived in secret.
Officially, he had departed King's Landing under the pretense of securing a royal loan.
Instead, he had quietly detoured to Pentos, intending to travel onward to Gohor and meet Viserys.
The moment Petyr learned that Robert had begun drawing ever closer to the followers of the Lord of Light, he knew House Baratheon's cause was finished.
Its already tattered reputation had only become worse.
That realization had accelerated his plans.
He had to establish contact with Viserys before the Targaryens launched their invasion of Westeros.
Otherwise, by the time the war ended, the best he could hope for would be the privilege of an unconditional surrender.
As his ship entered the harbor, Petyr spotted black war galleys flying banners emblazoned with the red three-headed dragon.
As Robert's Master of Coin and spymaster, he possessed extensive knowledge of the Free Cities.
Viserys's rise had only encouraged him to invest even more heavily in gathering intelligence there.
Petyr already knew how deeply the Targaryens had infiltrated Pentos.
Still, seeing Targaryen warships openly anchored in the city's harbor left him genuinely impressed.
A dangerous thought surfaced in his mind.
If I were the Targaryen... If I had dragons... How far could I have gone?
As the ship finally docked, Petyr Baelish forced himself back to reality.
After settling his attendants, he took only one trusted aide and rented a room at a nearby inn.
Now came the difficult part.
How was he supposed to meet Viserys?
If the Targaryens were still little more than exiles, sending a servant with a message would have been enough.
But Gohor now wielded influence equal to Braavos or Pentos itself.
Gaining an audience with Viserys was every bit as difficult as meeting a Sea Lord or one of the city's ruling magisters.
Petyr had already decided what he would say.
Once Viserys agreed to meet him, he would reveal that he was traveling to Braavos to negotiate a massive loan for Robert.
Viserys could then intercept the shipment and seize the gold.
Robert would gain absolutely nothing... Except an enormous debt. Viserys would receive a fortune without paying a single coin.
And Petyr would earn favor from both sides.
Surely that was worth a lordship under the restored Targaryen dynasty.
Once he became an lord...
He would produce as many heirs as possible.
One day, his descendants would marry into the royal family—or better yet, marry a Targaryen princess.
Now that dragons had returned, dragon blood had become priceless once again.
He certainly had no intention of missing that opportunity.
Lost in such pleasant fantasies, Petyr drifted off to sleep.
When he opened his eyes again... He immediately realized he was no longer in Pentos.
Looking around, he found himself surrounded by armored guards watching him with predatory intensity.
I've been captured!
The realization exploded inside his mind.
His heart pounded so violently it felt ready to leap from his throat.
"Petyr Baelish, correct?"
A calm voice broke the silence. Petyr turned toward its owner.
A silver-haired youth stood before him.
Silver hair.
Elite guards who looked ready to tear him apart. And the ability to spirit him away without his noticing.
There was only one possible identity.
Petyr immediately dropped to one knee.
"Your Grace, King Viserys. I have come to pledge my loyalty. And I've brought you a gift."
Kneeling on the floor, Petyr fought desperately to steady himself.
It seemed the Targaryens had infiltrated Pentos even more deeply than he had imagined.
At the same time, he felt a surge of relief.
He had gambled correctly.
Viserys truly was a king worthy of following.
If he intended to reclaim the Iron Throne... Then controlling Pentos was essential.
Judging from the situation before him, the city was already as good as being in Viserys's hands.
Viserys did not answer immediately.
In his eyes, Petyr was undeniably capable. The man excelled at intelligence work and diplomacy.
The problem was the boundless ambition hidden beneath that clever exterior.
The son of a minor frontier noble...
Yet daring to covet the Iron Throne itself.
There was something admirable about refusing to accept one's fate. But the methods Petyr employed...
Manipulating women.
Sowing chaos wherever he went.
They were so utterly devoid of principle that Viserys found them revolting.
Had Petyr relied upon almost any other method... Viserys might genuinely have welcomed him.
But someone without limits...
Was someone to be used—and discarded.
Naturally, Petyr knew nothing of Viserys's thoughts. Assuming the king merely doubted his sincerity, he hurried to explain.
"Your Grace, my pledge is genuine. I have informants throughout the Red Keep and all over King's Landing.
I know Robert's finances better than anyone."
As he spoke, Baelish produced a ledger from a hidden compartment inside his boot.
Viserys glanced toward Mathos.
Mathos flushed with embarrassment. He had completely missed it during the search.
A clear lapse in duty.
Still maintaining his composure, he accepted the ledger and began examining it.
Petyr spared him a quick glance. He recognized him immediately.
Mathos, Davos's son.
Before coming here, Petyr had investigated everyone of importance.
Viserys's methods of selecting talent had baffled him for years. Among the king's council...
Almost no one came from powerful noble families.
Ser Kevan possessed little more than a knight's title himself, yet represented mighty House Lannister—the queen's own family and one of the pillars supporting Robert's reign.
Davos, on the other hand...
When Petyr learned that the man had once been nothing more than a smuggler, he had been utterly astonished.
If someone of such humble origins could become one of the king's closest advisers...
Then surely he could as well.
Though perhaps, he reflected, that had simply been because the Targaryens had once been too desperate to be selective.
As the young king rose from his seat, Petyr instinctively tensed.
It felt as though an invisible sword rested against his spine.
Viserys stopped before him.
"I assume you know that within six months I intend to overthrow the Usurper and reclaim my family's Iron Throne.
What advice would Lord Petyr offer?"
Petyr had traveled under the official excuse of securing a loan from the Iron Bank.
No one besides himself knew he had secretly detoured to Gohor.
"Your Grace... Jon Arryn has sent me to negotiate a loan from the Iron Bank.
The funds will be used to raise armies and forge weapons.
When the gold crosses the Narrow Sea... I'll provide you with the exact routes and locations of every shipment.
Consider that my proof of loyalty."
His voice trembled slightly.
Part nervousness.
Part eagerness to claim credit.
His gray-green eyes and carefully practiced sincere smile made him almost impossible to doubt.
"And how much gold can you borrow for Robert?"
Or rather...
How much gold can I seize? Viserys silently amended the question.
"Three hundred thousand gold dragons, Your Grace."
Littlefinger's unexpected arrival truly was an extraordinary stroke of luck.
Viserys had originally planned to attack Pentos the following night.
To prepare, he had already activated every intelligence asset inside the city. Particular attention had been paid to ships arriving from Westeros.
According to the interrogations of Petyr's attendants, they had departed before Thoros demonstrated his miracle before Robert.
That meant Petyr still believed Robert's cause was hopeless...
And that House Baratheon was doomed.
In truth...
Had R'hllor not intervened personally... Littlefinger's betrayal would have been perfectly timed.
For this huge sum... Viserys almost felt obligated to reward him with a high lordship.
Had he not known exactly what kind of man Petyr truly was...He might even have trusted him with important responsibilities someday.
Thoughts raced through Viserys's mind.
Then he smiled warmly and personally helped Petyr to his feet.
The gesture filled Petyr with overwhelming relief. Like drinking a cup of icy water on the hottest day of summer.
Comfort spread from his chest to the tips of his hair.
"If my father had possessed a servant as capable as you...House Targaryen would never have lost the Iron Throne.
Lord Petyr, I know coming to Pentos was no simple matter. You cannot remain here for long.
I'm afraid I have little time to reward you properly."
As he spoke, Viserys removed a ruby-inlaid dagger from his belt.
Its hilt was carved from dragonbone. Its blade was forged of Valyrian steel. An exceptionally valuable weapon.
More than enough to secure Littlefinger's loyalty for the time being.
"Valyrian steel..."
Staring at the rippling patterns along the blade, Petyr feigned astonishment.
"Your Grace...This is far too valuable. I cannot possibly accept—"
He tried to return it.
Viserys refused.
"A mere dagger is hardly enough to express my appreciation.vOnce I reclaim the Iron Throne... Riverrun will be yours."
"Riverrun..."
Petyr pictured the blue-and-white castle where he had spent his youth.
At that moment, he became completely convinced he had chosen the right side. Viserys truly cared little for noble birth when selecting capable men.
Only under such a ruler could someone like himself ever rise to greatness.
Without another word, he knelt once more.
"Your Grace...
House Baelish will serve House Targaryen forever. We shall be the dagger forever at your side."
Outwardly, he spoke with passionate loyalty.
Inwardly...
He was already dreaming that one day he might climb into the Targaryens' royal bed.
"Excellent. Excellent. I know it wasn't easy for you to come all this way.
I'm preparing to attack Pentos, so time is short. I won't keep you any longer. We'll meet again in King's Landing."
"Yes, Your Grace... In King's Landing."
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