Chapter 175: Rhapsody of Pentos (9)
"Inherent responsibility," Daenerys repeated, the words feeling foreign on her tongue. She thought of her brother, Viserys, who had always spoken of his birthright, his power. But when Ian replaced *power* with *responsibility*, she felt something shift within her, something solidifying.
It was a kind of strength she had never known, a power born of being needed. It felt as though the sheer weight of that duty on her shoulders was enough to render all other obstacles insignificant, all difficulties conquerable.
*Power derived from blood?* Daenerys wondered.
"I am the last true dragon," she whispered, the confession both a fear and a vow.
"Daenerys of House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm." Ian did not give her a moment more to think, nor did he ask for her decision. Instead, he simply pressed upon her the titles that were hers by birthright.
"I, Ian of House Darry, Lord of Darry, do hereby pledge my faith and service to you. I shall be your loyal subject for all my days, to give you honest counsel and absolute obedience, to protect your rights and your domain. Through hardship and peril, I will stand at your side. I will tend to your people and punish your enemies. This I swear in the name of the Seven-Who-Are-One."
As far as formal oaths went, Ian's was extraordinarily perfunctory. They were still seated in the swaying carriage, and not only did he fail to kneel, but he held the frail young queen gently in his arms as he spoke the sacred words.
Daenerys, however, seemed to notice none of this. Lost in the gravity of the moment, she did not fault his lack of ceremony. "What should I say?" she asked, her voice small and uncertain. "I mean… I am sorry, my lord, but I have not been taught." She pursed her lips. "I do not know the proper response."
"Say what is in your heart, Your Majesty," Ian told her, his smile kind. "A queen is not bound by worldly etiquette."
"Me?" Daenerys shifted uncomfortably, still unused to her new station. She dredged up fragments of stories she had heard, piecing them together with her own understanding. "I accept your fealty, my lord," she said, testing the words. "And I swear that one day, I will lead you home."
Returning home was her own deepest wish, and she assumed the exiled Lord Darry and his knights must surely feel the same.
When she finished, she looked up and saw the affirmation in Ian's eyes, and a spark of confidence flickered to life within her.
"Lord Darry," she said, her voice a little stronger now. "Will you accept my appointment as Hand of the Queen?"
"I obey the queen's command." The carriage rolled to a stop just as he spoke. He gently lifted Daenerys from his lap and set her on the seat beside him. "I will do everything in my power to aid you, and to teach you how to be the monarch you were born to be."
"We have arrived, Your Majesty," Ian said. He drew back the curtain, stepped out of the carriage, and then turned to offer Daenerys his hand.
"Where is this? Where are we going?" Dani asked, taking his hand as she emerged from the carriage. Ian immediately scooped her up and lifted her to the ground.
"This is the port of Pentos. I have sent men to find us a ship." Ian, of course, did not mention that he had tasked Celia with buying one the day before. While he was busy maintaining his performance for Illyrio and Hazan, neither he nor his men could risk doing something as conspicuous as purchasing a vessel. Celia had been the only suitable choice.
"We will leave Pentos as soon as one is ready."
"But… Magister Illyrio," Daenerys said, ignorant of the turmoil unfolding in the city. "Should we not bid him farewell?"
"Certainly not. Your wedding to Khal Drogo was his arrangement. Now that you cannot marry the horselord, we must avoid the Magister. Otherwise, he will surely force you to go through with it."
"If we simply leave, will Khal Drogo not be angry with Magister Illyrio?"
*Of course he will,* Ian thought. *If Drogo isn't furious with Illyrio, then I'll have a real problem. I even forged a letter to Drogo using the Magister's own fire-seal just to be certain of it.*
"Will he attack Pentos?" Daenerys pressed, her face etched with anxiety. "Though Illyrio had his own motives, he did help us a great deal. We cannot treat a friend so poorly!"
*The girl is as hopelessly naive and kind as she was in the stories,* Ian cursed inwardly.
"Your Majesty," Celia interjected, her tone calm and reassuring. "The walls of Pentos are protected by the Lord of Light. Even if ten of Drogo's *khalasars* came to attack, they could not breach the city."
Celia glanced at Ian, who gave her a subtle nod of affirmation before she continued. "So, even if the Khal is angered, he will not truly attack Pentos. He will demand some property from Illyrio as compensation, and then he will leave."
She leaned in slightly. "But these vassals of yours are another matter entirely. They crossed the Narrow Sea for one reason: to follow the blood of the last true dragon. If you marry Khal Drogo, the greatest dynasty in history will be extinguished. And the people of Westeros will languish forever under the tyranny of the Usurper and his heirs."
"I'm sorry," Daenerys said, shaking her head quickly. "I… I did not consider how serious it was."
"Then listen to Lord Darry's counsel," Celia urged gently.
"Ian?" Daenerys turned to him, her eyes searching his. "Where do you suggest we go?"
It was clear she no longer questioned the need to leave.
"East," Ian declared. "We sail east to find an army." As he spoke, he spotted Rolle and several others hurrying toward them through the port's commotion. An idea sparked in his mind—a way to dispel Daenerys's final doubts completely.
Rolle approached, leading four or five men and two wagons heavily laden with goods. He met Ian's gaze and gave a firm nod, a silent confirmation that he had completed his task: the looting of Illyrio Mopatis's treasure vault.
The plan had originally been conceived as a way to secure Illyrio's dragon eggs, but Ian had already used his system's inventory to take them himself. That, of course, did not stop him from instructing Rolle to collect a little extra interest.
Seeing the overflowing wagons, Ian felt a deep sense of satisfaction, but he kept his expression neutral. The performance had to continue. "What did Magister Illyrio say?" he asked Rolle loudly enough for Daenerys to hear.
He then turned to her. "I sent Ser Rolle ahead to explain our sudden departure to the Magister and to bid him farewell on our behalf."
Rolle blinked. He had served Ian long enough to learn a bit of cunning himself and recognized at once that his lord was putting on a show. He wisely held his tongue, waiting for a clearer prompt to guide his next words.
"What is all this?" Ian asked, gesturing to the wagons behind Rolle. He strode forward and pulled back the canvas, revealing several large, ornate chests.
"Are these gifts from Illyrio for our journey?" Ian asked, feigning a look of puzzled surprise.
"Ah, yes," Rolle said, catching on instantly. He nodded vigorously. "Magister Illyrio said he completely understands why we must leave in haste. He insisted on funding our voyage to ensure we have a smooth journey."
"He is a good man," Ian said, turning back to Daenerys. "A true friend."
"We will thank him properly in the future," Daenerys replied, the last of the worry vanishing from her face. "If he is certain he can handle the situation, then I am relieved."
"Just in time," Ian said, looking toward the docks where a ship's captain was running toward them. "It seems our ship is here. Let us prepare to depart."
Moments later, Ian and his small party boarded the *Kiss of the Wind Goddess*, which quickly cast off its moorings and set sail.
The port of Pentos was a frantic scene, a forest of masts and a flurry of thousands of sails as nearly every seagoing vessel scrambled to leave the harbor. Ian's ship slipped out among them, just one more boat fleeing into the open water, utterly inconspicuous in the chaos.
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