Fatebringer | Viserys Targaryen

Chapter 13

The Titan came on the morrow.

He'd been accompanied by only a few guards, but they could still see the bulk of his men amassed at the gates of Yunkai, another five-hundred strong looking out at the Stormcrows that outlined his walk to their meeting tent.

Mero was tall, but barely taller than Viserys and Ser Jorah. He didn't even reach Ser Archibald's height, which said little to the point of him being some giant. His strength might've made him a titan's son, but not his height. He had a Braavoshi complexion continuing over his shining bald head, though his eyes were a pale green and his beard was a long and bushy red-gold. Really, he seemed an amiable man from afar. Were it not for his reputation, Ysira would've initially greeted him with a smile.

Viserys straightened up in his chair. "Welcome, Mero of Braavos. I am Viserys of House Targaryen, future King of Westeros. To my left, my sister and heir, the Princess Daenerys Stormborn, Mother of Dragons, the Unburnt. To my right, my Hand, Princess Ysira Nymeros Martell, The Puppetmaster."

"I've heard of you," said Mero, pointing a large hand directly at Ysira. "Only, they didn't call you Princess or Puppetmaster. They called you 'Heartless.'"

"A lie," said Viserys curtly. "Made by our enemies in the west to disparage her good name."

"Good name indeed," said Mero, openly looking her up and down. "You know, I can't decide if you're actually Dornish or secretly Norvoshi. Doesn't matter. If you're Norvoshi, I'll show you not to be a prude anymore, and if you're Dornish, we'll have the best night of our lives together." He gestured to Daenerys. "And you, I swear I fucked you once in a pleasure house in Lys."

Viserys would have shot out of his seat if both Ysira and Daenerys hadn't grabbed at his wrists and kept him down. Ser Jorah snapped, "Mind your tongue."

"Why?" asked Mero, stepping closer. "I didn't mind hers. She licked my arse like she was born to do it." He flicked his tongue at her.

"Take a seat," demanded Ysira, beckoning for one of the Kingsguard to offer a chair. "We offer you some refreshment."

"I don't need refreshment," said Mero, though he sat. "You, Dornish-Norvoshi girl, take your clothes off and come and sit on Mero's lap. Then, I may give you my Second Sons."

Daenerys was growing blatantly annoyed, still gripping tight to Viserys to anchor him down, though Mero could clearly see he was enraged. She spoke with poise, "Give us your Second Sons and we may not have you gelded."

He found this funny. "We've already taken the slavers' gold. We fight for Yunkai."

"We'd be paying you more than what the slavers pay you," said Ysira calmly. "In gold now, in riches when we take the Iron Throne, in glory when you have the opportunity to slay every last Brave Companion on foreign land. They fight for our enemy and you have the opportunity to fight for us."

"Ride with us, and you'll never need another contract," added Daenerys. "You'll have gold and castles, and lordships of your choosing when we take back the Seven Kingdoms. We offer you two days to decide."

Mero pursed his lips, as if thinking about it. "Well, I don't need two days. Both of you, show me your cunts. I want to see if they're worth fighting for."

Ysira had to fight harder to keep Viserys seated. He spoke coldly, "Kesan nektogon hen zȳhon ēngos se orvorta ivestragī īlva zaldrīzoti zālagon se Tȳni Trēsi skoriot pōnta iōragon." (T: I will cut off his tongue and his cock and let our dragons burn the Second Sons where they stand.)

"Umbagon gīda," said Ysira firmly. "Ivestragī nyke manur bisa." (T: Stay calm. Let me handle this.) To Mero (who was looking very curious as to what they said), she spoke, "Cunts won't change the reason we need you. We need someone who can go up against the Brave Companions and, well, let's not pretend you're juggling other contracts at the moment."