Fealty

Barefoot, Daenerys walked through the edge of the waves like a daughter of the sea.

She was lovely enough to draw the eye, but a quiet sorrow clung to her face and made the sight ache.

Ronan was, at heart, a blunt man. Comforting women had never been his finest skill.

He had meant to use her from the beginning, but in this moment, something softer stirred in him as well.

The sea wind brushed across their faces. A strand of silver-gold hair swept against Ronan's cheek, carrying a maiden's faint perfume and the reproach in Daenerys's gaze.

She had not spoken because refusal sat heavy inside her. Now silence said more than words.

Daenerys did not know what place Ronan occupied in her heart. She did not yet know what name to give the feelings between men and women. No one had ever taught her.

For much of her life, she had assumed she would become her brother's bride. Ronan's arrival had broken that empty certainty.

He had Ser Willem's gentleness, the handsomeness she had once wished to see in her brother, and the hard steadiness of a guard who would not move.

When he had stood before her without hesitation, his figure filled a hollow place inside her that had been empty for far too long.

With a trace of shyness and more courage than she felt, Daenerys placed the final choice in Ronan's hands.

Ronan had not expected that, after only a few days in her world, this wounded woman would already see him as nearly everything she had left.

He looked at her with a calm expression.

"Do you want to become the dragon queen of House Targaryen?"

Daenerys answered uncertainly.

"I think... I should want that."

In truth, she did not know. Her freedom was too new. Before now, her brother's thoughts had always pressed over her own.

In Viserys's world, they had been born dragon kings, born to rule.

Now her brother had been discarded by the very supporters he imagined for himself, and Daenerys had inherited the burden. Perhaps she should want to become a dragon queen.

Ronan did not dwell on her uncertainty. He asked the next sharper question.

"Do you want to conquer the Seven Kingdoms and sit the cold iron throne again?"

"I do not know," Daenerys whispered. "I truly do not know."

She had never thought that far. Everything she believed about Westeros came from Viserys's stories. She knew nothing of real war.

That was why she could not understand why something her brother made sound so simple - setting foot in Westeros - required her to be sacrificed first. Ronan did not soften.

He gave her the final question. Daenerys was already close to breaking.

"Do you want revenge for your parents and your house?"

That struck the place where she hurt most. Father. Mother. Family. The words surfaced in her mind like ghosts.

"Revenge? I should want revenge. If not for those people, perhaps my brother would not have become what he is."

That last question became the bridge that let Daenerys face reality. She wanted revenge. But she did not want the Dothraki marriage. Ronan read the conflict in her eyes.

Daenerys asked him directly, "If I want revenge, must I marry the Dothraki?" Ronan did not answer with comfort. He gave her the truth.

"Your enemy sits the Iron Throne. To reach him, you will have to face all of Westeros."

"To be blunt, your road to revenge will be brutal, whether you succeed or fail. Before you ever reach the end, you will pay more than you imagine."

"A Dothraki marriage is the fastest path available to you right now. It is also the path that asks the least of you, compared with the alternatives."

Ronan's answer finally broke through the last of Daenerys's fragile hope. Still unwilling to give up, she looked at him with pleading eyes.

"Will you help me?"

Ronan's smile was still gentle.

"Of course."

Then the turn came, and Daenerys could hardly believe it.

"I can help you. But why should I?"

"Why? What do you mean? You..."

For a moment, she could not understand him. Ronan explained kindly enough.

"I told you. I am a sellsword, not one of those loyal knights from the songs. No one commands my fealty for free. If you want to hire sellswords, you must pay the proper price."

"Price?"

For the first time, the man before her felt unfamiliar. Of course. Why would kindness come from nowhere? He wanted something from her too. A sad little smile touched Daenerys's face.

"You did not have to say it like that," she whispered. "If you wanted something from me, Daenerys would not have refused you. Why break the one beautiful thing I had left?"

Her voice was quiet, but Ronan heard every word. He could not help teasing her.

"No need to look so tragic. Do you not want to ask what my price is?"

Daenerys looked at him with confused, hopeful eyes.

"What do you want?"

Ronan straightened, looking down at her with sudden authority.

"Daenerys Targaryen, I want your fealty."

Daenerys stared at him.

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