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"I find you very interesting," the Black Pearl said, her voice drifting like the scent of night-blooming jasmine across the deck of the flower boat.
"Why?" Viserys asked.
"I once thought you only had a beautiful exterior, a tragic shell for a lost cause. I did not expect you to possess such an elegant interior. But I wonder, beyond art and poise, what other qualities do you hide beneath that silver hair?"
"My ambition is beyond your imagination," Viserys said calmly. His purple eyes sparkled with a cold, predatory light.
He toyed with the Valyrian steel dagger she had gifted him. The metal was light, almost weightless, and the dark, smoky ripples on the blade seemed to move in the lamplight. This was not the legendary dagger of the Conqueror that sat in the Red Keep, but it was a masterpiece nonetheless—a relic of Aegon the Unworthy's time in the East.
Viserys ran a finger along the edge. He knew he needed more. A dagger was for shadows, but a King needed a long reach. He dreamt of a Valyrian steel longsword or, better yet, a poleaxe. But such things were not bought; they were seized or found in the ruins of the old world.
"This dagger is a start," Viserys noted. "Did the Unworthy King give your ancestor a dragon egg as well?"
"No dragon egg," the Black Pearl replied, her brown skin luminous in the dark. "Dragon eggs are a king's ransom, and Aegon was only a prince when he fled to Braavos to escape the piety of Baelor the Blessed. He was here to indulge, not to distribute the family's power."
"A tragic love," Viserys mused. "Aegon's jealousy of the Dragonknight and Naerys poisoned the family for generations."
"It was before he wore the crown that he met the first Black Pearl," she said. "Perhaps if he had been King then, I would have a dragon to show you tonight. But for now, you must settle for this."
She gestured to the heavy tome in the cedar box: The Lives of Four Kings.
"Grand Maester Kaeth's history," Viserys said, recognizing the title. "Daeron the Young Dragon, Baelor the Blessed, Aegon the Unworthy, and Daeron the Good. It is a book of madmen and geniuses."
The Black Pearl's eyes turned into stars. "It is a book every king should read, Your Majesty. To see where the road turned to ash."
"I accept the gift," Viserys said.
He, too, had come prepared. He pulled a thin piece of paper from his tunic—a new work of the Silver Traveler titled When You Are Old.
The Black Pearl read the lyrics carefully, her expression shifting from curiosity to a deep, quiet respect. "With this, Nightingale will no longer be the only voice heard on the canals. Sometimes, Viserys, I feel you have an ancient soul trapped in a teenager's body."
"The feeling is mutual," he replied. "But art is only a means to an end. I need money. A large sum to launch my venture."
The Black Pearl scrutinized him, her playfulness replaced by a sharp, business-like gravity. "The venture you speak of is the overthrow of the Baratheon dynasty. That is madness. You have no gold, and they have the Lannister mines and the power of the Starks and Arryns. Even the Greyjoys were crushed like glass beneath Robert's hammer."
"Where there's a will, there's a way," Viserys said.
"You could live a life of luxury here," she urged him, leaning closer. "Serve the Black Pearl, and you will have gold, silk, and the most beautiful women in the world at your feet. Why choose a life of blood and fire?"
"We are partners, Bellegere. I am not your dependent."
"The risk is too high," she shook her head. "I invest in goldsmiths and singers. I cannot afford to lose money on a ghost."
"Investing in a singer gives you a fivefold return," Viserys countered. "Investing in a King gives you a hundredfold. I am Viserys Targaryen, Third of His Name. I am the only partner who can give you the world."
She laughed, a rich, hearty sound. "You are a madman, yet a brilliant genius. It makes one reluctant to think of this pretty face on a muddy battlefield."
Viserys reached out and grabbed her hand, bringing it to his lips—then he bit her finger, just hard enough to startle her.
"You should show a King more respect," he whispered.
Her chest rose and fell, her eyes flashing with a mix of anger and intrigue. "Do you know that if I spoke a word, my guards would kill you? Syrio may like you, but he would not stop me."
"You won't," Viserys said, releasing her. "Because you know I have value."
"Madman," she muttered. "A kingdom restored by three people? A boy and two little girls?"
"Three true dragons," Viserys corrected.
The Black Pearl sighed, then raised her cup. "I do not support your restoration. I do not know of any plan. I am merely lending money to a handsome young man I find charming. What he does with it is his own affair."
"Cheers to our cooperation," Viserys said, raising his cup.
The coin had been tossed. In the lamplight, Viserys looked every bit the conqueror, but the Black Pearl wondered if she had just invited a hurricane into the quiet waters of her life.
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