( ACT I; sleeping dragon. )
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chapter 15: thievery and suspicion.

AT mid-morning, the day after Xaro's garden gathering, the Targaryens arrived at the villa of the Spice King, a man they didn't know the actual name of but still needed his assistance if they planned to get to Westeros with an army or ships.

They'd arisen early, Vaegon eager to acquire the desperately needed assurance. Yet, his weariness of their host still hung amid his anxious thoughts. The Spice King's villa was similar to Xaro's, with plenty of expensive decorations of gold and gemstones, which seemed to be the choice way to show off wealth in Qarth. Lavish Lyseni rugs covered walkways, and Tyroshi tapestries hung beautifully on the walls. Birds' song echoed through the villa, and the wind blew lazily, yet tension was still thick in the air.

They waited in a small courtyard at the base of a stone stairway. Vaegon paced back and forth, his mind racing as Jorah and Daenerys watched, their expressions painted with the same concerned expression he had. He was still angry about Xaro's proposition to give Daenerys to him, so he'd chosen to stay well apart from their host. Nor did he tell Daenerys of it.

"Must he make us wait all day?" Vaegon muttered in annoyance as he absentmindedly rubbed his chin. Upon their arrival, he'd been optimistic. It didn't take long to wear away, for Vaegon was impatient. His other hand clenched and unclenched, a habit he often practiced when agitated.

"This is the Spice King, Your Grace," Jorah pointed out from where he stood off to the side, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword as he often did. "He does not seem to be a man of punctuality."

"We can only hope our wait will gain us ships," Daenerys voiced to stay positive. She looked to Vaegon, who still paced angrily. "I'm sure he will be here soon, Vaegon. And once he is, we can negotiate the beginning of the conquest."

"Perhaps he will," Xaro shrugged from where he stood, muscular arms crossed. "Or perhaps he will make you wait as he does everyone else who comes for his aid."

Vaegon shot a silent glare toward their host, who didn't even seem to see it. Luckily, a commotion at the top of the stairwell finally brought the Spice King to their presence, and an entire entourage of tastefully dressed nobles followed behind him. The merchants' followers peered down with hungry looks as if they couldn't look at the Targaryen closely enough.

"King Vaegon!" the Spice King exclaims, welcomingly as he pauses halfway down the steps. And Princess Daenerys, the Mother of Dragons." He sweeps his gaze across them all before continuing. "Welcome to my humble villa. Xaro tells me you have come to ask me for some assistance. What is it that may be?"

Vaegon, having found a place at the base of the steps, looked up to the Spice King with slitted eyes and a hand blocking them from the sun's shine.

"We've come to ask for your assistance in acquiring ships for our return to Westeros," Vaegon stated. "You are the only one we could come to. You have the most ships in Qarth."

"Indeed, I do," the Spice King boasted with a gesture of his hand. "Ships which I use to transport my spices and carry out my trade. Tell me, were I to help you, what would you offer me as collateral? Surely, you do not expect me to give them away merely."

"We don't have anything currently, my lord," Vaegon tried to reason. His mind raced as he tried to think of the right words. He hadn't expected to produce collateral so suddenly. "But once I have the throne—"

"How do you plan to acquire that throne without an army? Without any open supporters?" The Spice King ruthlessly pointed out, not bothering to spare any of Vaegon's hope, all while holding an expression of prominent arrogance. "Please forgive me, Your Grace, but this is too risky an investment to be placed on mere promises that you'll retake a throne your family failed to keep."

Vaegon's cheeks grew hot with anger. He was running out of ideas of how to bargain with this merchant when promises had been all he'd truthfully had to work with. Fear was beginning to creep into his mind, a rude and unwelcome intruder.

If they didn't get ships, there was no sense in going after an army. They might as well miss the idea of returning to Westeros goodbye. The merchant's reasoning was sensible, Vaegon hated to admit, which made it harder to convince him to help them.

"My lord, I can assure you—"

The Spice King interrupted him once again. "I cannot allow you to have my ships based on mere assurance that you'll repay me. It is simply a risk I cannot afford to take. I'm sorry, Your Grace, but you must find your help elsewhere."

With his words stuck on the tip of his tongue, the elder Targaryen watched as the merchant moved to return to the entourage of nobles at the top of the steps, ending his plea for ships suddenly and unceremoniously. Anger consumed him immediately, yet he tried to keep his composure.

"Mark my words, Spice King," Vaegon uttered lowly as he watched the merchant and his entourage disappear. He was already conjuring a revenge plan for this merchant who had given them the hope they could take back their family's throne. "Once my dragons have grown, I will lay waste to Qarth and return it to the dust from which it came."

Furiously, he left his place at the base of the steps to exit through the way they had come.

♜

DAENERYS was stricken with utter devastation when she entered her chambers at Xaro's villa to find her loyal servant Irri lying lifeless on the floor, her dark eyes filled with nothingness.

Daenerys stood motionless, heart pounding in her chest, and her knees threatening to buckle. The Princess dropped to her knees harshly as tears began to fill her eyes, and she pulled her companion into her arms, the cause of her death evident in the marks of strangulation apparent on her bruised throat. Daenerys hadn't seen Doreah, so she assumed the same fate as her other servant.

"NO!" She heard Vaegon bellow in rage from another part of the villa. "THEY'RE GONE!"

Daenerys took a few moments to say goodbye to her companion before gently allowing her limp body to return to the floor. She closed Irri's eyes, making her appear to be sleeping peacefully even though her body was already beginning to grow cold and void of liveliness. Daenerys scrambled to her feet as she darted toward the direction of crashing sounds coming from somewhere else in the villa, more than likely at the hand of Vaegon.

Soon enough, she found him in the standard room with Jorah and Xaro, the knights' sword in Vaegon's hand, as he demolished a small end table near the sofa. He chopped relentlessly, causing Daenerys to flinch every time as wood splinters flew through the air. Dany looked to Jorah, who could only offer her a helpless grimace. She pursed her lips as she redirected her attention toward her furious brother.

"They're gone?" Dant asked softly, nearly afraid his anger might be redirected toward her. "The dragons?"

"All three of them," Vaegon uttered with one final chop before turning toward her. His violet eyes were filled with a haze of rage, his lips a taut line. He shoved the blade back into Jorah's hand, who took it obediently. "They've been swept away without a trace. Not only that, but many of our guards are slain as well."

He paced, his hands clenching as his breath came quickly. Daenerys watched with a pit of fear filling her chest. She couldn't even begin to wonder where their dragons might be. Not while processing the death of her kind handmaid.

"I assure you, my guards are already conducting a search," Xaro said from where he stood a few paces away. We will find them. Already, my word could be viewed as worthless to the public, and I cannot stand such a thing. I've failed to protect you."

"How strange," Vaegon laughed madly as his movement became focused on the merchant. Vaegon's posture became poised, his head cocked like a predator.  "The guards you assume will find our dragons could not protect them in the first place? It's amazing how that works." He looked to the floor momentarily, an almost calculated breath escaping his lips. "I'd love to question the said guards that still remain. I'm sure my technique of gathering the truth would get me just the information I need."

Glancing at Xaro, Daenerys saw a look of embarrassment on the face of their host, who began to defend himself against Vaegon's harsh accusation of the complacency of the merchant's guards.

"Your Grace, these thieves must have been of the most elite skill," he vouched. "My guards run a specific route throughout my villa that I'm sure was somehow assimilated by an individual from inside."

"You will find my dragons," Vaegon commanded as he drew another step closer, his body rigid. "Otherwise, we will have much more pressing matters to resolve."

He held an expression of suspicion, Daenerys noticed, yet she was unsure why. Moments later, he turned on his heel to disappear from the room, leaving his wreckage to be dealt with by some unlucky slave.

"Is there no evidence?" Daenerys murmured, crestfallen. "Surely there was a witness? They couldn't have fled quietly with three squealing dragons."

"I'm not sure, my princess," Xaro consoled while wandering closer to her side. "But I am making every effort possible to find them. I have failed to protect you, and I beg your forgiveness."

Daenerys shook her head. "No need. We will find them. I know it."

Xaro nodded before departing, leaving her and Jorah alone in the room. She heaved a sigh before sitting on the edge of the nearby sofa, the rubble of the table not far from her feet.

"Send me to investigate," Jorah suggested. "I'm sure I could find something."

Daenerys wasn't sure of anything at the moment. All she wanted to do was crawl into bed and forget about the day, but her servant was still lying dead on her floor, and the dragons were missing. Irri would need to be prepared and buried soon, but she didn't have the heart to carry it out herself. She would have to have some of the Dothraki come in soon.

"Yes, that would be wise," she agreed tiredly. "Return once you've found something."

"Of course, Your Grace," the knight dipped his head in acknowledgment before leaving Daenerys alone in the room.

Daenerys cupped her cheeks as her elbows rested on her knees, wondering how they would find their lost dragons. Misfortune had a twisted way of dealing with the Targaryens, yet she was slowly growing used to it.