King's Landing, Red Keep.
Roth Zalyne paced back and forth in the dimly lit reception room of the Red Keep, his nervous energy almost palpable. The flickering light from the torches made his eyes strain, adding to his unease. Occasionally, his gaze drifted to the window where the dragon banner fluttered in the wind, a stark reminder of the man he was about to face. His thoughts spiraled back ten years to the day he first crossed paths with Viserys Targaryen.
Back then, Viserys had been a boy of fifteen or sixteen, an orphan of House Targaryen, and a fugitive embroiled in conflict with House Fregar over the soap trade, thanks to the Moonshadow.
Seeking refuge, the young Targaryen had turned to House Zalyne for help. Roth's wife, Methys, had seized the opportunity and signed a contract with Viserys, splitting the profits of the soap business. At the time, House Zalyne had plans to monopolize the business eventually. But fate had other ideas.
Barely six months after leaving Braavos, Viserys had pulled off the audacious Blackwater pirate heist, rocketing him to prominence as the second-in-command of the Windblown mercenary group. Within a year, he seized control of Tyrosh, and by the fourth year, he had hatched a dragon and declared himself Emperor of Tyrosh. The meteoric rise left Roth and House Zalyne stunned.
At the time, House Zalyne was nearing ruin. Roth, desperate to tether his lineage to the power of the Dragonlords, had entertained the idea of Viserys marrying into his family. When Viserys fathered children with the famed courtesan Falia at House Zalyne's stronghold, Roth saw another opportunity.
Falia gave birth to twin daughters, and Roth was overjoyed, stationing guards at her residence and scheming to have his son marry one of the girls. He reasoned it was a win-win plan: Viserys's bloodline would remain connected to House Zalyne, and the union would be born of mutual consent.
But Roth's confidence wavered as he replayed the details in his mind. The flaw in his scheme was glaring—Viserys had never been told about the daughters. He'd only discovered their existence after arriving in Braavos, where an attempted abduction of the girls nearly succeeded. Roth fainted upon hearing the news. In the aftermath, his actions as the Sealord to uncover and punish the perpetrators had upended Braavos, even forcing the Iron Bank to yield to his demands.
The timing of the revelation couldn't have been worse. Just as Roth was preparing to confess everything to Viserys, the Long Night had descended, postponing their reckoning until now.
"His Grace is not a petty man. The River Mander Alliance is proof of that," Methys said gently, trying to reassure her husband. Time had left a few fine lines around her eyes, but her poise and wisdom were as steady as ever. Methys had always believed in seizing opportunities, a trait she shared with Roth. She was confident Viserys would not resent their past dealings, as House Zalyne's involvement had ultimately benefited him. Without their support, Falia might never have thrived in the perfume trade, nor found stability amidst Braavos's cutthroat politics.
But then again, people change. Could the same be true for Viserys?
As the couple stewed in their apprehension, the heavy curtain was drawn aside. Two maids entered, their movements precise and deliberate, followed by a striking woman with brown hair and piercing eyes. She wore an elegant green dress that complemented her commanding presence. It was none other than Margaery Tyrell—now Margaery Targaryen, Viserys's concubine and a woman of formidable influence.
Margaery was no mere ornament. Her keen understanding of human nature and her ability to manipulate circumstances to her advantage rivaled even Daenerys. Where persuasion and diplomacy were concerned, she was House Targaryen's most valuable asset.
Margaery wasn't alone. By her side was her young son, Duncan, a living testament to her union with the Dragon Emperor.
"Lord Roth, Lady Methys," Margaery seized the moment while the couple remained in a brief daze to speak first.
"Princess Margaery," the Roths quickly returned the greeting, bowing their heads politely.
Noticing it was Margaery who had arrived rather than Viserys, the two seemed slightly disappointed. After the brief introduction, Margaery continued with a composed smile:
"Now that the legendary Long Night has truly befallen our generation, His Grace and the Queen remain in the North, leading the army against the White Walkers. As such, I will be receiving the Prince and his wife. I trust the Prince will not take offense."
Roth hastily waved his hand, his tone sincere. "The White Walkers are a threat to us all. His Grace and the Queen fight for every one of us—how could anyone hold that against you?"
"Yes, my lady, please don't trouble yourself over such thoughts," Methys added earnestly.
Margaery nodded gracefully. "Very well. His Grace has asked me to convey two crucial matters."
"My lady, please go on," Roth replied, leaning forward slightly, an intentional display of respect.
Margaery, relaying the contents of Viserys's letter, informed them that the White Walkers were likely to cross the sea, potentially endangering Braavos and even the entirety of the Free Cities.
The news made Roth's heart sink. He had assumed that the worst-case scenario would see the White Walkers overrun Westeros entirely, leaving the Free Cities untouched. Now, it seemed they too were at risk. Methys, listening intently, grew visibly uneasy.
Years prior, before the White Walkers' full-scale invasion, a few wights had been captured and sent to the Free Cities to demonstrate their threat to the nobles. The sight of the undead had left many terrified—these creatures, only killable through decapitation or burning, had haunted the dreams of many. Some nobles had fallen ill with fevers from sheer fear after witnessing them. Methys herself, shaken by the experience, had ordered the entire river channel in Braavos dredged to remove any corpses.
I thought we had taken sufficient precautions. Who could have imagined these horrors might cross the Narrow Sea? Methys thought grimly.
"My lady, rest assured," Roth said with determination, breaking the tense silence. "As soon as we return, we will immediately organize a fleet to blockade the Narrow Sea!"
Margaery gave an approving nod before continuing. "The second matter concerns His Grace's plans for an expedition to Valyria to mine dragonbone."
This news was less shocking to the couple. They were already aware of the Dragonbone Tower project and admired Viserys's bold vision and willingness to take risks for the greater good. Margaery explained that Viserys intended to take 20,000 to 30,000 people on this expedition. However, due to the need to prioritize supplies for the Northern frontlines, the financial burden of this venture would fall on Braavos—or perhaps on House Zalyne.
Roth felt a wave of relief upon hearing this. His concern had been less about punishment and more about potential replacement. If Viserys was merely seeking financial support, it suggested the matter would not escalate further.
This isn't truly punishment, Roth mused to himself. The Iron Bank's downfall has left wealth aplenty. Contributing some of it is only natural.
"My lady, have no doubt—I will ensure the necessary funds for His Grace's expedition are provided in time," Roth promised earnestly.
With the official matters addressed, the conversation shifted to lighter topics. Margaery, Roth, and Methys discussed their daily lives, sharing anecdotes and occasionally laughing together, creating a warm and harmonious atmosphere.
Amid the lighthearted conversation, Margaery suddenly remarked, "I heard that the prince's daughter is already six years old. Why not consider sending her to the royal academy in King's Landing? She would have more playmates among the other princes and children of the court."