In Illyrio's mansion, he sat with Jon Connington, deep in discussion, plotting their next move.
"Should we kill him?" Jon Connington asked.
About half a month earlier, Jon Connington had heard from Illyrio about Viserys falling into a strange trance. At first, he dismissed it as nothing more than a fanciful tale, the sort of story a minstrel might concoct. But when he arrived in Pentos and saw the war preparations firsthand, and received confirmation from Illyrio, he began to accept that these were indeed the actions of a seventeen-year-old boy.
When Illyrio suggested eliminating Viserys, a flash of murderous intent crossed Jon Connington's eyes. As he considered it further, he couldn't help but reflect on the story of "Young Aegon" that Varys and Illyrio had spun. The more he thought about it, the more the tale seemed riddled with inconsistencies.
First of all, how could Varys have conveniently found a child in King's Landing—or anywhere in Westeros—with silver hair and purple eyes to serve as a stand-in? And even if he did, why hadn't he sent the "real" Aegon to Dragonstone with Viserys and Daenerys? The only explanation that made sense was that Varys had somehow foreseen the Storm on Dragonstone, which had destroyed the last of the Targaryen fleet.
Moreover, after digging deeper, Jon Connington uncovered something astonishing: Illyrio's late wife, Serra, had also possessed silver hair and purple eyes.
Despite these revelations, Jon Connington wasn't entirely convinced by Viserys's claims. But Illyrio's eagerness to kill Viserys made him wary—'What was Illyrio really up to?'
"Didn't you say the dragon has three heads? Why the rush to kill Viserys?" Jon Connington asked, his tone probing.
Illyrio paused, his burnt cheeks twitching slightly, before quickly offering an excuse. "You know, that's just a prophecy. Our priority now is to place Prince Rhaegar's bloodline on the Iron Throne!"
Jon Connington didn't buy it. 'You didn't say that before,' he thought, but kept the suspicion to himself. The more he observed, the more convinced he became that Illyrio was hiding something. However, he knew that pressing Illyrio too hard would only raise suspicions.
There was also the fact that Viserys hadn't exposed Illyrio's schemes, which suggested that Illyrio still had value, and Jon Connington couldn't afford to act rashly.
"Can you arrange for me to join Pentos's army?" Jon Connington asked. "I want to see Viserys again. If necessary, I can disable him—ensure that even if he's strong, he won't be a threat to Young Aegon's claim."
Illyrio's eyes lit up at the idea. Crippling Viserys instead of killing him offered multiple advantages. Not only could he repay Viserys for saving him from the fire that day, but it would also keep Robert's attention focused elsewhere. It was the perfect solution.
Getting Jon Connington into the army would be easy enough.
"Fine! We'll do it your way! I'd prefer to make him sterile!" Illyrio said with a twisted cheerfulness, causing the bandages on his neck to ooze with pus.
...
Dorne
Sunspear, Throne Hall.
Doran Martell had just assigned several of his advisers to a crucial mission. They would serve under the command of the Red Viper, tasked with blocking the sea west of the Stepstones. Once his advisers had departed, Arianne and her cousins sprang out from behind the throne. Arianne knelt at Doran's feet, looking up at him with her dark eyes.
"Father, let me go with Uncle Oberyn on this mission," she pleaded.
Since learning of her father's decision, the tension between Arianne and Doran had eased, and she had begun to warm to him again. Doran, who had always been a mild-mannered man, had grown even more so after losing his gout. He knew exactly what his daughter was thinking. Despite Viserys having rejected the proposed marriage alliance, his undeniable talent had made him an attractive prospect to many.
Doran glanced at the Red Viper beside him, and the two shared a knowing smile. He gently touched his daughter's head.
"Go, but be careful. Listen to your uncle and don't act on your own!"
"Don't worry, Father!" Arianne stood up and kissed Doran on the cheek.
Seeing Arianne's success, Tyene and Sarella, the little black girl, also looked at Oberyn with hopeful eyes.
"This time, I'm only taking Obara and Nymeria. You two will stay here and keep your uncle company," Oberyn declared.
"What? Father, we want to go too," Tyene protested.
When Oberyn remained firm, Doran intervened. "Let them go, brother. The daughters of House Martell shouldn't be confined to the castle."
"But—" Oberyn began to argue, but Doran cut him off.
After the three girls left the hall, brimming with excitement, Oberyn turned to Doran. "It seems you're confident in this battle. Do you really think Viserys can succeed?"
Doran shook his head slowly. "On the contrary, I don't think he can win. That's why I'm letting them go with you."
Oberyn frowned. "Why?"
Doran stood and began to pace, speaking as he moved. "I don't believe Tyrosh will be easily taken. At most, this conflict will end with negotiations—compensation and promises. There won't be a bloody battle, no landings or sieges."
"Why not?" Oberyn asked, curiosity piqued.
"Viserys is undoubtedly a clever man," Doran replied, pausing to meet Oberyn's gaze. "But he's overlooked one critical issue. He's formed a loose alliance, one in which no one is truly committed."
Doran's insight was clear. While Tyrosh's control of the Stepstones threatened the interests of many, those interests weren't strong enough to compel the involved parties to send troops. For example, Pentos and Myr were more interested in speculating on the outcome than risking anything significant. When speculation is the game, no one is willing to take on high costs or risks.
"This won't be a bloodbath," Doran continued. "The only party likely to make a serious effort in this battle is Lys."
Doran's explanation was thorough, but it left the Red Viper with a new doubt.
"Why didn't you mention this earlier? Perhaps Viserys could have been more cautious," Oberyn questioned.
Doran smiled. "Because he was too confident."
Oberyn found this even harder to understand. "But isn't that dangerous? He's so certain he can build a force as powerful as Dorne across the Narrow Sea. That kind of overconfidence could lead to disaster."
Doran nodded. "Exactly. That's why it's not a bad thing for him to take a few hits and learn a lesson. Overconfidence is dangerous, and a reality check might be just what he needs."
While Doran was grateful to Viserys for saving him from the torture of gout, the interests of House Martell always came first. Oberyn couldn't help but admire his brother's foresight. He now saw that Viserys's overconfidence could indeed be his downfall.
Bittersteel had spent his entire life in the Free Cities, and the most he had achieved was establishing a mercenary company. He had died without even a grave to mark his efforts. To the seasoned nobles of Westeros, such ambition, gilded as it might be, was little more than a tragic folly.
Doran knew that only by making Viserys confront the harsh realities of building power from nothing would he truly understand the difficulty of his ambition. This would, in turn, make him more likely to offer substantial benefits in any alliance with House Martell—perhaps even agreeing to marry Arianne.