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Chapter 4 - One for the Gold (R)
🕑 Added 2025-09-07 20:01:49 +0000 UTCBraavos
Robert’s fortune grew with each passing day, while his expenditures were relatively small, only ordering armor sets, saddles for the dragons, and physical necessities like food and drinks.
His visits to brothels and excessive alcohol consumption to the point of becoming drunk had ceased due to the newfound control and mental fortitude he now possessed.
The fear of blurting out something he should not while drunk and between the tits of a woman had also played a part.
Year by year, the number in his account grew, as did the interest of the known world in him.
Marriage offers had come by the dozens. Daughters, sisters, and nieces were sent to him, sometimes as a harem, but he had refused it all.
Unless someone really interesting came along, Robert was fine with flying solo. He had chased after women who did not show interest in him in two worlds; enough was enough.
—
Life was nice but also hard. He couldn’t stay in one place for too long due to the assassination attempts, and the Dothraki were getting smarter.
The assassination attempts were varied, sometimes coming up in the form of a drop-dead gorgeous woman, sometimes as a child. It sickened him to see the depraved ends people would go to to kill him.
Poison, arrows, hell, there was even a sort of magical attempt that had been foiled by the existence of his dragons. At least, that’s what all those sorcerers he consulted for magical protection had told him.
But for now, he had a more interesting situation developing.
—
Robert was taking a bath in a little cabin built outside the city, with his dragons surrounding the place for security.
There was an attendant, one that was too old to assassinate anyone, but he still kept an eye open and didn’t eat anything unless he cooked it himself.
“My lord, there are visitors outside.” The old woman’s voice came from behind the door while he was in the bathtub, scrubbing himself.
Robert groaned audibly. Couldn’t he just have some alone time to himself? “Who?”
“They are from Westeros.” Robert stopped, slowly looking at the door.
Now, these visitors were a distraction that could prove to be amusing.
“Oh? And what brought them all the way here?” Whether his identity was a secret or not, it was obvious.
Took them long enough.
“They wish for an audience to present a letter their king sent.”
“Let them in.”
He waited in his bathtub, thinking about who Aerys could have sent. Hopefully, it wasn’t someone Robert was familiar with; otherwise, they may recognize his voice.
“Lord Matthew, I am Symond Staunton, Master of Laws to his grace, King Aerys II of House Targaryen, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.”
“And?” He had never met Symond Staunton before and was surprised at Aerys’ choice. Seeing he was a lickspittle, they must have considered him expendable should anything go wrong.
“I bring a letter from my king to you. May I come in?”
“I am taking a bath, and you aren’t pretty enough to watch. Read the letter for me, or leave.”
“Y-yes, my lord.”
“To Lord Matthew, the Father of Dragons;
As a fellow Valyrian in blood, I, Aerys II Targaryen, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm, congratulate you for bringing the dragons back to life.
Essos is a treacherous place, one filled with scheming rats and vile sorcerers who no doubt conspire against you.
I hold out to you a hand of friendship and family. Should you be willing to journey to King’s Landing, I offer you the hand of my sole daughter, Shaena Targaryen, the fairest maiden in the whole world, as well as lands and a house of your own, in return for sharing the secrets of hatching dragons.
I await glad tidings from you.”
That was just about the best offer Aerys could have made without humiliating himself.
If only he knew.
Refusing right now would be sweet, but he could only imagine the faces the Targaryens would make.
If he gave them hope, however, and crushed it once back at Westeros, then the pleasure it would give would be unmatched.
The decision was an easy one to make.
“My business in Essos cannot be delayed nor abandoned, but I will journey to Westeros in one year. I can discuss anything King Aerys wants at that time.”
“I am confident his grace will be delighted to host you in King’s Landing.” Staunton sounded pleased that his task had succeeded.
Aerys might not be full-blown mad, but one did not incur his wrath and get away unscathed, and failure was a great way to earn it.
“Now if there is nothing else, you may leave. I have business to attend to.” Fun or not, he still didn’t want this bath time disturbed.
“Of course, my lord.”
—
King’s Landing
Small Council Chamber
King Aerys II Targaryen scowled. “In one year? Why not now?” He was happy that the Dragonlord accepted the offer, but not that it would take him a year to appear in Westeros.
“His business in Essos could not be abandoned, Your Grace.” Staunton was nervous, but he hid it.
It didn’t end well for those who earned the king’s ire.
“Father, do you truly mean to wed Shaena to a man we know nothing about?” His second son, Daeron, asked, and Aerys rolled his eyes.
The only reason he even allowed the boy in was because he would be the Prince of Summerhall one day.
“He has dragons; that is enough. Unless you know a way to hatch dragon eggs, you will be silent, and your sister shall do her duty to House Targaryen.”
“Of course, Father.” His daughter simply bowed her head, accepting her fate. She had been brought, as the matter concerned her future husband.
Not that being wedded to a dragon rider was a terrible fate.
“Now, what else can you tell me about the Dragonlord?” Matthew wasn’t a Valyrian name, or one from anywhere else, which cast doubts onto the man’s legitimacy as a Valyrian, rather than a fortunate upstart.
So everyone wished to know more about the Father of Dragons.
“He is a curt man, Your Grace, and a busy one.” He had dismissed Staunton and his entourage after finishing his bath, and they were not able to have an audience with him again.
“What of his looks?” The Dragonlord’s name might not be Valyrian, but blood mattered more than name.
“Lord Matthew was taking a bath when we had finally found him and refused to let us in.”
“So you did not see him? Useless.” Aerys sneered at the lord who made himself smaller to avoid the king’s displeasure. “And the dragons?”
“Them, we have seen, Your Grace.” Staunton nodded. “The largest is of deep blue color and is named Obelisk, with a reputation for a voracious appetite and an aggressive demeanor.” The beast had given them a look before turning away and ignoring them entirely.”
“Slifer is the second largest, and the people speak of how its lazy demeanor hides a terrible fury. It is a crimson, serpentine beast, and it moves as if it is flowing blood.” That one did not even bother to rise from its slumber to acknowledge them.
“Ra is the smallest, as well as the fastest, and is apparently playful. To my shame, it nipped at us when we were watching him and laughed when we ran away.” At least, he thought that the deep, repetitive sound was laughter.
“Hah! What I would have given to see that.” Aerys cheered, unheeding of how his master of laws was mocked.
Crown Prince Rhaegar turned to the Master of Whispers, who had been unusually quiet during the council. “Lord Varys, now that it has been two years, what do your birds whisper to you?”
The emergence of the dragons was unexpected, especially for Varys, whose task was to know these things.
Varys shook his head. His good brother had let him know that the eggs were stolen, but not the person behind it since the culprit was at large. “Unfortunately, Lord Matthew is a recluse, my prince, and my birds have a hard time watching him. He rarely spends more than a night in one place, only staying longer when it comes to speaking business with the Free Cities. His mask is a constant on his face; he does not partake in pleasures of the flesh, nor does he drink to excess.”
With three dragons at his command, an assassination was a costly venture, and the paranoia the Dragonlord had carried with him was praiseworthy, if detrimental to their plans.
“So you’re as useful as your cock, huh? Nonetheless, we shall see in one year.” Varys did not let Aerys’ remark spoil his smile.
“As you say, Your Grace.”
In the end, House Targaryen would pay, but now was the time to be patient.
—
Braavos
286 AC
Robert stood in the middle of the city, his mask and cape off for all to see his face. Now that he was returning to Westeros, there was no need to keep secrets any longer.
He pointedly ignored the stares.
“Robert Baratheon. Eldest son of Steffon Baratheon and heir to Storm’s End. Exiled for assaulting Crown Prince Rhaegar Targaryen. Known to be a buffoon, a drunk, and a whoremonger.” Ferrego Antaryon, surrounded by his guards and the First Sword of Braavos, sauntered into the market where Robert had been purchasing supplies.
“Go on, I don’t think Slifer’s furious enough yet.” All three of his dragons had turned to the man, growling softly.
Ferrego continued, but in a different direction. “Yet here you are, the Father of Dragons, a successful merchant who made a fortune in three years, the Bane of the Dothraki, and the man who humiliated several cities by deceiving them into paying him for the same job. I am conflicted; which one is the real you?”
Robert rolled his eyes at the words. So unnecessarily dramatic.
“Whores and ale could only entertain me for so long before I was bored, so I decided to aim higher.” With two of his main sources of joy no longer so attractive after the merging, he had to do something to pass the time.
The Sea Lord grinned. He had no love lost for the current Targaryen king and could only imagine how Robert would stir the volatile pot that was Westeros. “And may I say you succeeded fabulously? The people of Westeros are in for a rude awakening, especially Houses Targaryen and Stark.”
While Essos at large did not care for the affairs of the Westerosi lords, Ferrego, as the Sea Lord of Braavos, had to keep an eye on one of the factions they heavily traded with.
The news of how the heir to Storm’s End had attacked the Crown Prince and nearly lost his life for it had reached Ferrego's ears.
All over a woman, or rather, a girl.
“I’ll be too busy soaring in the skies to listen to their whining.” Provided his murderous side did not win and he killed them wholesale.
Ferrego laughed heartily. “May tides ever bring you profit, and may we meet again as friends and merchants.”
“I am sure we will.”
“Volā.” With one last order, Robert left Essos.
—
He couldn’t just fly from Braavos to Storm’s End and would need to go to Tyrosh first to cross the Narrow Sea in a single flight.
But a single flight to Tyrosh wouldn’t be possible either, and in the interest of not tiring his dragons, Robert made two stops on the way, one to the north of Pentos and the other to the north of Myr, before he landed on Tyrosh.
The Tyroshi were greedy people, but not foolish enough to risk a confrontation with three dragons, so Robert spent the night without any trouble and left in the morning.
—
Seven Kingdoms
Storm’s End
At last, his home was in sight, and there seemed to be celebrations.
For what, he did not know, as Braavos did not concern themselves with Westeros much but would learn soon.
