I must say that it was not entirely surprising to see one Petyr Baelish in Braavos. Not so much because of the origins of House Baelish -as there had been three generations born in Westeros anyway- but because of his position as Master of Coin. Not to mention that he'd had a stake in various businesses on both sides of the Narrow Sea from several years ago.
He was here today as a guest of Emone Zalyne, the elder head of that ancient house.
Of course, only then did it dawn on me that today was the first showing of The Merchant of Braavos, a story that I had adapted and set in Lys, with a Braavosi merchant trying to gain the heart of a rich Lyseni heiress -I decided against using Volantis after the... Backslash to The Prince of Egypt, what with the unfortunate coincidence of a Volantene Emissary being present for the Uncloaking Celebrations on which the play premiered-
More relevant to the matter at hand, Shylock's place was taken by Petyr, who was a Westerosi, I was, after all, taking advantage of the reputation that the Bank of Oldtown had in Essos as utterly inmoral and cutthroat. Ironic, but still.
Of course, a man that might as well fit the bill for Shylock happened to share the name for the Shylock expy of the day, and said man was about to watch.
Oh joy.
Thankfully, I didn't interact too much with him. We were... introduced, but we didn't speak. Petyr Baelish had dealings with the Iron Bank to make, and I had two kids to keep hidden. I doubt he even saw Viserys and Daenerys. Then again, it wasn't as if he would have recognized them. He had never met Viserys in Westeros, nor in Essos.
I had settled down for an uneventful rest of the day, making my way back to the home and buying some things in the meantime. Most of the day was uneventful even. We all ate dinner, Daenerys showed off her progress with the violin -as the instrument somehow existed in Essos- and then she went off to sleep. Viserys seemed not to be able to sleep just yet, and so he was still up when someone knocked at the door.
Hesitantly I took a knife, and went to the door. There I saw a man.
Tycho Antaryon, son of Sealord Ferrego Antaryon, and who I suspected to be on an affair with one of the daughters of Emone Zalyne, was at my door, a Bravo wearing many colors along with him.
Leaving him out in the cold was a bad idea -as I knew I was... beholden to his family anyway. And so I opened the door, leaving the knife on a drawer that was by it.
"How did you find out" He spoke, mostly scared. Viserys, who was still there, watched rather confused.
"Find out... what?" I asked, trying to get him to elaborate. Tycho watched me, and with a growl he answered.
"About Dilanea" He said with a frown. So it was the eldest daughter, Dilanea Zalyne... "How did you find out"
I could only laugh.
"You just told me. No, really, did you know that an Antaryon of old was in a similar situation? It was kinda inverted, as the man was one Moredo Zalyne, some three or four centuries ago, Sure, I did not use the names, and I took some liberties in the way it happened, but it ended with Moredo, Serra, and some kinsmen of the Sealord of the time dead, and both families forced to work together by said Sealord..."
He was quiet. Too quiet. I could not let the silence stand.
"You know what, you should talk to your father. I am sure that the Sealord would approve, and I doubt that Emone Zalyne would oppose such a union. It isn't as it was a century or two ago when both families were going all in with the murders after all."
"Wait... you think Father would agree?" He eyed me as if I'd grown a second and even a third head. I nodded and continued.
"Who else is he going to marry you to, a Volantene Old Blood woman? I'm pretty sure the two of you are a politically convenient match. And if you two idiots are in love, even better."
He seemed almost sheepish. And nodded. Now that I thought about it, he seemed somewhat tipsy.
"You know what, I'll have a guest room for you, sleep this off, and ask your Father in the morning."
He did so, sending the Bravo away after paying him.
I didn't learn until the following week that I was invited to the wedding.