Morning.
After eating the food they had brought with them, Jon told Daenerys his plan for the day.
“Jon…
Aegon, are you sure you want to go into the city?
Will it be dangerous?”
Seeing the worry on Daenerys’s face, Jon felt he ought to explain why he needed to enter the city.
“There is something there I must obtain.
It is very important.”
Hearing him say that, Daenerys could only nod.
Frostflame’s short, threatening growl reached their ears, cutting their conversation short.
When they stepped out of the tent, they saw several people standing at the foot of the hill.
At the head of them were Viserys and Jorah.
The two had come here again early that morning.
The Pentos envoy from yesterday stood beside them as well.
When they saw Jon and Daenerys appear, all of them let out a breath of relief.
A moment ago, Frostflame’s purple slit pupils had been fixed on them, and their legs had already gone weak with fear.
Had Jon come out any later, they might well have turned and fled.
The envoy gathered his courage, took a few steps forward, and spoke to Jon somewhat stiffly.
“My lord, did you rest well last night?”
“I have come by Lord Illyrio’s command to invite you into the city.”
“My lord meant to come in person, but urgent business delayed him.”
Jon nodded, showing that he understood Illyrio’s affairs were pressing.
“Then trouble yourself to return and tell Magister Illyrio that I accept his invitation.
I will enter the city once I am ready.”
The envoy was clearly startled by his reply.
Once he recovered, the stiffness on his face quickly turned into a smile.
“Of course.”
He bowed again, his tone exceedingly respectful.
“The Magister will surely be delighted to hear this good news.”
“Forgive my discourtesy.
I will return at once to report it, so my lord may prepare to welcome you in advance.”
With that, he did not linger.
After Jon nodded, he turned and led his men away from the hill.
After the Pentos envoy left, Jon turned his gaze to Jorah.
Since yesterday, this weathered former Lord of Bear Island had been watching the long sword at Jon’s waist.
It seemed he had recognized its origin.
To Jorah Mormont, the pattern on the scabbard and the familiar curve of the hilt stirred a powerful sense of familiarity.
Yesterday, he had been too far away, and with the shock of the dragon’s arrival, Jorah had not been able to see the sword’s details clearly.
Only today, seeing it up close, did he finally confirm where it came from.
Longclaw, the ancient Valyrian steel sword passed down through House Mormont for generations.
At last, he could no longer suppress the shock in his heart, and he spoke in a low voice.
“My lord.”
Jon looked at him calmly.
He had long since recognized the weathered, middle-aged guard before him.
This was the former Lord of Bear Island who had sold poachers to slavers to fund his extravagance, then been ordered seized by the Lord of The North and forced to flee across the Narrow Sea.
Jorah’s gaze remained fixed on the sword at Jon’s waist, his voice hoarse.
“May I ask…
where did your sword come from?”
Jon did not answer.
He only looked at him in silence.
Longclaw’s original pommel had been shaped like a bear’s head, but before coming here, Jon had already changed it to an ordinary one.
He had not expected Jorah to recognize it anyway.
“I do not wish to speak of this sword right now.”
Jon paused, then continued, “When I wish to speak of it, I will come to you.”
Jorah’s lips moved.
His expression struggled for a moment, but in the end he did not press further.
He lowered his head and slowly drew his gaze away.
Seeing that he did not continue asking, Jon turned to Daenerys beside him and asked, “Dany, how did you come to know this guard?”
“This is Ser Jorah Mormont.
He was hired a few years ago to protect us,” Dany replied.
Jon looked at Jorah Mormont.
“Dany, is he reliable?”
She glanced at Jorah, then still chose to speak in his defense.
“Ser Mormont is not very willing to speak of his past.”
“But all these years, he has been protecting us.
At least in my eyes, he is worthy of trust.”
Jon looked at Jorah again.
“I will trust you for now.”
Jorah Mormont’s face showed gratitude.
“Thank you for your trust, Prince Aegon.”
Viserys, standing to the side, had no interest in any of this.
His gaze kept drifting back and forth between Jon and Frostflame.
Jon noticed his look.
It was not simple curiosity.
It was more like he was sizing up something that did not belong to him.
Jon’s brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.
Yet he did not act at once.
In those dreams that crossed the Narrow Sea, Daenerys had spoken countless times of her brother when they were children.
Back then, though Viserys had been impatient and sensitive, he had once truly cared for his sister.
But after their exile, he had been swallowed little by little by hatred, fear, and an obsession with restoring his kingdom.
If there was still even one last trace of warmth left in Viserys’s heart, if he was willing to wake from the dream of restoration, Jon did not wish to make an enemy of him.
Jon quietly looked at Viserys, who had already fallen into fervor, and spoke evenly.
“Viserys, do you truly mean to have Daenerys marry Drogo?”
“Of course!”
Viserys answered at once, his voice loud, as though he had heard the most absurd question in the world.
“Why?”
“For the Dothraki army!”
Viserys’s voice suddenly rose, and that sickly fanaticism surged in his eyes again.
He even began waving his arms about.
“So long as Drogo becomes my ally, I can lead tens of thousands of riders to trample Westeros beneath their hooves!
Then I will take back the Iron Throne that belongs to me and make those who betrayed House Targaryen pay the price!”
Jon’s expression did not change.
His deep gray eyes, like wind and snow, watched him calmly.
“But why would Drogo listen to you?”
Viserys froze, his lips trembling.
“Because I am a Targaryen!
I am the rightful king of this continent!”
“And so?” Jon’s voice was calm, almost cruel.
“Simply because you are a Targaryen, that Khal who rides across the Dothraki Sea will hand his army over to you?”
Viserys opened his mouth, and a rush of frantic, broken sounds came from his throat.
He gasped in panic, his eyes darting between the massive Frostflame and the tall Jon.
Then he suddenly turned and pointed fiercely at Daenerys, who had been standing silently at the side.
Viserys screamed, his voice especially shrill on the barren hill.
“Because of her!”
“She is the last Princess of the Targaryens.
The blood of the True Dragon flows in her veins!”
“So long as I marry her to Drogo, he will surely serve me!”
At those cold, piercing words, Daenerys’s small body trembled violently, and she instinctively shrank half a step behind Jon.
Jon saw it all.
In that moment, the last trace of hope in his heart vanished completely.
He had meant to give this uncle one more chance.
Now it seemed there was no need.
“No.”
“I will not trade a Targaryen woman for an army.”