The Free Cities, the manse of the Magister of Pentos.
Brilliant sunlight flowed like water, and a few thin white clouds drifted slowly with the wind.
The future Mother of Dragons, Daenerys Targaryen, knelt in a corner of the bedroom, weakly covering her body with her delicate arms.
After arriving in Pentos, Magister Illyrio Mopatis had gifted her a pale blue sheer silk gown.
The gown was exquisitely crafted, both beautiful and cool to wear; Daenerys liked Illyrio Mopatis’s gift very much.
Yet Daenerys’s favorite gown had just been violently torn to pieces by her only living relative, her brother Viserys Targaryen, the scraps scattered around her.
Daenerys’s thick silver hair curled, possessing a disheveled softness.
Her purple eyes held crystalline tears, brimming with sorrow from her current heartbreak.
Her skin was as white as milk; petite and breathtakingly beautiful, Daenerys looked like a sprite.
A handmaid rubbed her still-aching belly, struggled to her feet, and with a look of pity, picked up a blanket to wrap around Daenerys.
Daenerys’s sorrow-filled eyes met the handmaid’s gaze.
“Are you alright?
I’m sorry, I was scared…
I didn’t dare protect you, yet you were hurt trying to protect me.” The handmaid shook her head and comforted her, “Your Grace, I am fine.
Let me help you up.” Daenerys’s own brother, Viserys Targaryen, was the second son of the Mad King, Aerys Targaryen the Second, and Queen Rhaella Targaryen.
He styled himself Viserys Targaryen, the Third of His Name.
After the War of the Usurper, the Targaryen survivor Viserys fled the continent of Westeros with his sister Daenerys.
Styling himself the King of Westeros, he visited the various Free Cities, seeking allies and funding while evading assassins.
He endured endless cold shoulders and scorn, and was even forced to sell their mother’s crown, earning him the insulting moniker of the “Beggar King.” After selling their mother’s crown, Viserys’s temper grew increasingly volatile and unbearable.
Daenerys deeply missed the boy from her childhood who used to tell her stories of the Seven Kingdoms, the Viserys who painted pictures of the beautiful life they would have once he ascended the throne.
Daenerys desperately hoped that the brother hidden deep in her memories could return to her side.
…………
The day after receiving the Queen’s letter of appointment, Grim made a rare exception and donned bright silver plate armor, draping a blue cloak embroidered with his house sigil over his shoulders.
Monton Waters served as his guard, clad in full plate armor, a large round shield on his back and a warhammer at his hip.
The gate guards of the Red Keep, a few gold cloaks, saw Grim’s letter of appointment, asked a few simple questions, and let them pass directly.
Grim and Monton entered the Red Keep smoothly.
There was no search, nor were they required to surrender their weapons to the gold cloak guards.
Lord Grim mentally evaluated King Robert’s Red Keep as a place utterly lacking in crisis awareness.
Monton’s eyes, which lacked a certain brightness of intellect, were now full of curiosity, constantly looking around.
Grim was in no hurry, walking slowly in the direction the gold cloaks had pointed out earlier.
…………
After walking for a short while, a blond man in silver armor and a white cloak quietly appeared in Grim’s line of sight.
The blond man was tall and handsome, with a pair of shining green eyes.
Grim guessed this person was Jaime Lannister.
When he first appeared, Grim had even felt a trace of murderous intent, though it vanished very quickly.
Having grown up in a perilous environment, combined with his enhanced physical attributes after transmigrating, Grim keenly caught the fleeting murderous intent radiating from Jaime.
Grim guessed the reason, and after a moment of thought, his expression turned strange.
Grim could only think of one answer.
*Jealousy?
He doesn’t think I’m a toyboy, does he?
A gigolo for the Queen from afar?* *Is this the legendary simp brain?
I rely on hard skills to make a living, there’s absolutely no need for this!* Grim pondered, but his face showed nothing.
He walked over naturally, placed a hand over his chest, and bowed.
“Good day, Ser White Cloak?” Jaime leaned on his longsword, his eyes looking up and down at Grim’s handsome face, his voice carrying a haughty tone.
“I am Jaime of the Kingsguard.
Little wildling, are you Lord Grim Crabb?” Grim’s expression remained calm.
“I am, Ser Jaime.” Jaime raised an eyebrow.
Tyrion’s assessment was indeed correct; his mindset was very mature.
If it were any ordinary young man who had already inherited his house, it would be normal to show at least a little displeasure at this point.
Although Jaime was displeased with Grim, he had no interest in continuing to deliberately make things difficult for him.
He said flatly, “Follow me, little lord.” Grim offered a word of thanks, gave Monton a look, and stepped forward.
The simple-minded Monton Waters did not understand what command Grim’s look had just conveyed, and it was not an appropriate time to ask aloud.
Monton Waters scratched his head and touched the warhammer at his waist.
*Is he telling me to smash in the head of that arrogant man in front of us?* Grim noticed Monton’s little movement, turned his head slightly, and whispered, “Keep up.” *Oh, I was overthinking it!* Monton Waters gave a good-natured grunt of acknowledgment, caught up with Grim, and continued to look around curiously.
Grim naturally quickened his pace a few steps to walk shoulder-to-shoulder with Jaime.
“Ser Jaime, if I may be so bold to ask, what exactly does a secretary of the Queen’s household do?” *Are we that well acquainted?* Jaime cast him a sidelong glance.
“Didn’t you ask Tyrion?” *Could Jaime be jealous of Tyrion?
A terrifying bro-con?* Grim guessed another reason why Jaime had shown murderous intent toward him earlier.
Grim sighed.
“I thought I was hiding from Lord Tyrion, but yesterday I realized he was hiding from me too.
We both suffered heavy losses and are currently terrified of each other.” Jaime remembered Tyrion’s haggard appearance and couldn’t help but laugh.
“Tyrion told me yesterday that he would never touch wine again in this life.” Grim also smiled and said, “On the third day I knew Lord Tyrion, I heard similar words from his mouth.
It only lasted for half a day.” “With Lord Tyrion’s wisdom and eloquence, he can always find a better reason that you simply cannot refuse.” Grim’s words were full of praise for Tyrion, which put Jaime in a very good mood.
In Jaime’s eyes, Grim’s face was handsome and gentle, making it hard not to feel a favorable impression.
Jaime, who had already begun a pleasant conversation with Grim, suddenly remembered something and instantly reverted to his icy expression.
*Tsk, a tsundere?* The “big-picture” Grim did not mind Jaime’s tsundere behavior.
*We’ll see about that later.*