"Did you catch sight of his build?" Viserys pressed Daenerys, his voice urgent and low. "Mercenaries thrive on the edge of steel, where one misstep spells doom. The alpha wolf has never tasted defeat; he's the unchained force sweeping the Disputed Lands, echoing Aegon the Conqueror's blaze. That's the fire propelling him to such dizzying heights in so little time!"
"But my heart resists this path!" Daenerys whispered, her words fragile as a breeze.
Daenerys studied Gendry intently; his eyes gleamed deep and vivid, brimming with unyielding resolve, fierce intent, and now and then a flicker of tender fire and quiet kindness. His stare held her fast, magnetic and profound. His form moved with effortless grace; the King boasted wide shoulders and the forged might of a smith in his arms.
Daenerys sensed that even if his hidden face bore scars or flaws, she would still walk this aisle beside him. Viserys unleashed fury like a dragon roused from slumber, striking without mercy, but this man burned wild as a lone wolf unbound. Daenerys's pulse quickened with unease; she knew this pact bound her to a stranger, tearing her from familiar shadows into unknown winds.
"Viserys, I beg you, can we turn back now? Brother, please!"
"Home!" Viserys's temper flared in an instant, though he reined it to a hiss. "Our birthright slipped away ages past! How dare you dream of return?" This place offered no sanctuary; their true hearth lay in vanished Dragonstone, majestic King's Landing, the rightful Iron Throne.
"I... I simply don't know!" Daenerys's vision blurred with unshed tears. Could that distant realm truly claim her soul?
"Embrace this role with everything you've got!" Viserys snapped, his edge cutting sharp. "Wed the Mercenary King; his legions are our key. Secure an army—twenty, thirty thousand strong, two hundred sails of war—and I'd trade you for dalliances with the lot, from foot soldiers to steeds and hulls alike. Tonight demands only one union; count yourself blessed. Steady your spirit!"
Daenerys brushed away the dampness swiftly, steeling herself. The rotund Magistrate approached, his face wreathed in mirth, strolling arm-in-arm with the enigmatic King. Viserys urged his sister to lift her chin and arch her posture, mindful of her slender frame.
Gendry drew near and clasped Daenerys's hand in his own, warm and sure.
Daenerys had yet to tread Westeros's shores, untouched by war's grim face or the usurper's shadow. "Tonight's blooms pale beside your radiance, Princess!"
Daenerys indeed stood slight and exquisite, her form delicately curved. Yet her ethereal allure overshadowed all, destined to echo through the known world's annals.
Gendry's timbre resonated like hammered steel, laced with the raw allure of unbridled manhood. Daenerys paused, then murmured her soft assent, cheeks blooming faint.
The plump Magistrate's delight overflowed; this union promised wonders, a masterful weave of fates sealed tight!
"Magistrate, our accord calls for a twist—I cherish the path you've paved!" Gendry turned to Illyrio, his tone measured yet firm.
Illyrio's features stiffened once more, blindsided by the unforeseen pivot.
"I hold deep affection for Princess Daenerys, yet I propose we delay the vows until she reaches full bloom. In the interim, I'll stand as her steadfast protector."
"Buzz, buzz, buzz!" Illyrio's mind reeled as if battered by relentless chimes, vertigo swirling. Such postponement dashed hopes of immediate steel; Daenerys counted mere thirteen summers.
"As the Magistrate decrees, so shall it unfold!" Illyrio masked his frustration with gracious poise. These Westerosi outfoxed even the Dothraki in guile. If the youth played coy, then Illyrio would bare the hidden webs.
"Then permit me to escort my betrothed through the grounds!" Gendry dismissed further words with Illyrio and Viserys, guiding Daenerys toward the estate's quieter corners.
"This defies reason—doesn't it? The usurper squats on my father's seat; how much longer must I endure?" Viserys's gaze hardened to ice; impatience clawed at him without cease. "Had I foreseen this tangle, better to have offered her to the Khal outright!"
Gendry spared no thought for Illyrio's simmering ire. The cheesemonger's edge—and the spider's—hinged on veiled truths; their frailty shone in empty ranks. Like paupers bartering borrowed blades, they hungered for proxy might, but yielding came at a steep toll!
Gendry's Unsullied sentinels fixed Viserys with stares cold as forged iron, and the prince at last swallowed his venomous barbs.
Illyrio rolled his ample shoulders in a shrug. "Mighty King, you've lingered in exile through most your days—what harm in a handful more moons... or even turns of the seasons?"
Ser Jorah chimed in, "The Commander-in-Chief honors your bond unwaveringly! Repayment arrives in due course, but all bends to his vision. Those seeking favor from the mighty must temper their words and bearing, not strut with false crowns."
Viserys spat back in fury, "Mormont, mind your tongue lest I sever it clean! I bow to no lesser station; I am the rightful sovereign of the Seven Kingdoms, blood of true dragons—I kneel to none."
Jorah regarded Viserys with open contempt, while Illyrio flashed another placating grin, laboring to soothe the prince's storm.
"Given your boorish northern roots, a true dragon spares you the flames—for now. But mark this: a dragon's grudge endures eternal!" Viserys snarled, venom dripping... Gendry led his betrothed to a tranquil garden retreat. Free Army sentries cleared the space, shooing away all, even the Unsullied aides dispatched by the portly host; Gendry placed no faith in their loyalties.
Gendry eased Daenerys onto a wrought-iron bench amid the blooms. Though petals carpeted the night, none rivaled a rose's quiet splendor.
The evening chill nipped like frozen streams. Gendry unclasped his cloak and settled it over Daenerys's silken gown, a shield against the bite.
Daenerys flushed with shyness, yet she summoned courage from within. She whispered to her racing heart, "I am Daenerys Stormborn, Princess of Dragonstone, heir to Aegon the Conqueror's unquenchable fire."
Daenerys wrestled confusion too—did the King haste so boldly to claim intimacies at first sight? He could wed her this instant, bypassing the wait for her maturity.
"I bear a treasure for you, my Princess!" Gendry declared to Daenerys, unveiling his offering with care.
"What grace!" The coronet gleamed intricate, shaped as a coiled dragon. Its golden form suited a woman's brow, adorned with crimson gems that evoked Targaryen flames, serving as the beast's fierce eyes.
"Queen Rhaella's very crown!" Gendry's smile warmed like dawn. Securing this relic demanded cunning trades; merchants quailed before the ascendant Mercenary King's reach.
Gendry read Daenerys's fragile state keenly; she lingered as a mere thirteen-year exile, worlds from the future Dragon Queen tempered by loss of spouse and spawn, scarred by endless treacheries. She yearned now for a bulwark of might to cradle her dreams.
Gendry wielded such power, his presence striking, unhindered by tongues or customs, and he invested genuine care. Swaying a displaced princess outshone corralling a savage Khal.
"My deepest thanks!" Daenerys cradled the crown, as though reclaiming fragments of her faded honor.
"I long... I long to behold you!"
Gendry lifted the mask away, revealing a visage of flawless allure—radiant, boldly masculine, and strikingly fair. His locks fell thick and ebony as midnight ink, framing eyes of breathtaking azure, vivid and alive.
"Do you wish to unravel my tale, Dany?" Gendry inquired softly.
Daenerys nodded, drawn in.
"It's a guarded truth, shared solely with you!" "Like you, I wander without roots, fleeing King's Landing's grasp to these shores! I once hammered iron as a smith there, then ventured to the Disputed Lands as a sellsword."
Daenerys's eyes rounded in wonder, sensing the King's odyssey rang like an epic saga.
"And your kin?" Daenerys ventured gently.
"I spring from bastard seed. My mother rests in the earth. A mighty sire shaped my blood, yet he spared me no glance, chasing skirts in endless revels. His queen hungered for my end! Had I lingered, assassins would have claimed me as they did my half-siblings of shadowed birth."
Daenerys's thoughts thundered like gales; revelation struck like a hammer's blow. Whispers of the usurper's bull-like vigor and savage thirst flooded her mind.
"I am the usurper's own bastard, cast aside like refuse! As you, I loathe House Lannister's grasp."
Daenerys's heart hammered wildly. Facing this unveiled reality left her adrift. She warmed to Gendry; his strength enveloped her in safety, and he'd scoured realms to restore her crown. Why did destiny twist so harshly?
"We stand as the forsaken; the gods weave mercy in our union!" Gendry enfolded Daenerys's hand, and she yielded without pull.
"I'll forge a hearth for us!" Daenerys pondered briefly, then leaned in to press her lips to Gendry's. Her kiss carried the night's lingering frost.
I descend from the Conqueror; I am living flame. The usurper's outcast, forged in trials, at least spoke plain of the Iron Throne and her worth; no deceptions veiled his heart. Daenerys steadied her spirit first; she bent easily to please, unaccustomed to such a towering guardian wrapped in kindness.
Daenerys diverged from Viserys's unyielding mold, her convictions fluid still. Legends she'd absorbed paled against lived scars, and absent true peril, her fire lacked forge.