This story will include: Aged up characters, unreliable narrator, OOC, AU-canon divergence.

A/N: This story will be on the back burner something to distract my muse when the OBAS 2 writing isn't coming along as nicely as I would like. Two main things before we start: This is 'crack' mostly treated seriously, but I'll likely be laxer and looser when posting for this story then I'd be for other stories. This is just a fun writing exercise that I thought I'd post on the off chance anyone else was remotely interested in this Crack AU idea.

Secondly, this is AU, which means do not compare it to canon in anyway, because you'll end up being disappointed and frustrated. AU means I set the terms.


Farwynd & Fire

By Spectre4hire

1: The Unexpected Suitor

Viserys was angry.

That was why Daenerys Targaryen stayed where she stood. She hovered just outside of view, but she could see her brother was close to waking the dragon. Their host Magister Illyrio looked up from where he was lounging in his chaise, unbothered. He snapped one of his fat fingers, and the servant who had been fanning him went back to work having been startled by her brother's outburst.

"It is unexpected," Illyrio popped another grape into his mouth. At his elbow on a silver platter was an arrangement of fruits for him to choose from. He had more food on his plate that she and her brother would sometimes get in a month before they were welcomed into his home.

"We should send this messenger back without some of his fingers," Viserys' own fingers were coiled around the hilt of the sword Illyrio had gifted him. "This is an insult to the Royal House of Targaryen."

It was only then that she saw there was another in the room. The one who had taken the brunt of her brother's ire. He was not as finely dressed as her brother or the Magister. He was dressed like one of the many sailors she would see at the port.

"The King japes," Illyrio let out a chuckle. "We would be honored to accept your lord," He pressed forward before her brother could say anything further. "Please inform him that he is invited tonight."

"I will, m'lord," The messenger cast a wary glance at Viserys, but didn't address him. The lilt in his voice did not sound like he was from Pentos or Braavos. It was only after he was escorted out did, she realize his accent- Westerosi,

"You let filthy sailors sit at your high table?" Viserys scoffed, offended as if it was his table and not the Magister's.

We were beggars before Illyrio let us in, brother, but she didn't say anything, wanting to remain hidden from him. She could tell Viserys' grip on the dragon was tenuous.

"Dagon Farwynd has made a lot of gold in his travels," Illyrio said smoothly, "He has a small fleet, Your Grace," He then added to try to appease her brother. "It would be wise to listen to him, indulge him," His smile cut through his golden beard, showing yellow teeth. "We may need his ships to ferry your soldiers across the Narrow Sea when you retake your throne."

Viserys puzzled on that for a long second before nodding, and muttering. "Yes, yes, very well," as if he had an actual say of what happened in the Magister's Manse. "But seriously," He chuckled, "The blood of the dragon married to such a minor lord?" he laughed harder, a harsh sound that made her wince.

The line must be kept pure, Viserys had told her that a hundred times. Ours is the kingsblood, the golden blood of Old Valyria, he'd say with a manic glint in his eyes. It was our Blood that ruled the Seven Kingdoms. Even at their lowest, her brother would remind her of their family's past glories, at what should've been theirs. It was a fire that burned inside him, far brighter than inside her. He knew Westeros. He could remember King's Landing or Dragonstone, but to her they were just names. She wished to see them, but when she closed her eyes, she could not picture the Red Keep, but the big house with the red door. She thought of Braavos not Westeros, but even that home was a distant memory to her.

We don't have a home, she and Viserys had gone many places, seen many people, but they never stayed long. Some grew bored of them, treating her and her brother like ornaments, something fun to display to your guests, but something that lost its luster in time, and to be replaced by the next shiny bauble they could find. Other times, Viserys made them leave, claiming the Usurper's assassins were hunting them, determined to end their noble line because the Usurper still feared them.

He knows what we are, she remembered Viserys dragging her away from the small room they had been staying at in Myr for the past fortnight. We're the true royal blood and he knows our people are waiting my return.

Blinking out of her reverie she noticed that Illyrio had spotted her. His eyes glittering with surprise delight, but she suspected he had known she was there for some time. Aware, she could no longer stay hidden, she cautiously stepped forward fully into view of her host and brother. "What is happening?" She asked softly, sparing a glance at her brother, who had taken a seat on a different couch, pulling a girl into his lap. Doreah, she remembered her name, she was from a pleasure house in Lys, and with Illyrio's leave allowed Viserys to bed her.

Doreah had not been asked, but Daenerys knew the ugliness that lurked behind the painted veneer of Pentos. Illyrio's servants were slaves in all but name, a mask they wore to honor their treaty with Braavos that outlawed slavery.

"A suitor has come seeking your hand, princess," Illyrio answered with a small indulgent smile, "From your home."

"Westeros?" She said, but it was not the first name that came to her heart.

"Hardly," Viserys said snidely, "It's a pile of rocks with seals and walruses," he waved a dismissive hand, "A poor and pathetic house."

"And yet you still know it," Illyrio said in awe, as if Viserys' knowledge of the Seven Kingdoms was a true wonder. "A good king knows all his subjects, rich and poor," He continued in his honeyed tone that never felt quite right to her ears. Viserys, however, took to the Magister's words like kindling to a growing flame, preening slightly, looking pleased with himself as he fondled Doreah on his lap. "But onto the matter of our guest, he has carved a name for himself as a second son from a far less notable house," Illyrio said delicately.

"And he wants to marry me?" Her fingers were pulling at the hem of her dress-another gift from the Magister. To take me to Westeros? She nearly asked, but stopped herself, realizing the foolishness in her question. It seemed the thread that the minstrels would tell, weaving a story about the exiled princess who got to return with her new husband. It sounded so silly, but she would've read it all the same, and enjoyed it too, like all the other songs and stories she grew up learning.

"Of course, he does," Illyrio looked incredulous at her surprise. "You are a royal princess," He gestured to her, "Beautiful and of proud Valyrian stock. I imagine you will have many suitors while you're my guests."

Princess, he had called her that again, as if it was a great honor, an envious title to covet. To her, it was a name that she hardly understood. A princess to her, was in the songs, many sung about her ancestors who rode dragons, and held great courts. Beautiful and powerful, it wasn't used to describe her. Now, they'd drape me in the title, putting me on display for a man, I do not know and according to Viserys would never wed.

Is that why we're here? For the first time seeing the sliver of light that tried to cut through the mystery of why Magister Illyrio had sought them out and now hosted them. He treated them lavishly with expensive gifts and great foods, never saying or asking for anything in return. She thought at first, that he was merely like the other nobles who had taken her and her brother in. However, as the weeks passed, Illyrio had shown no disinterest in them like the others had. Those who discarded them when they proved too much of a burden. If anything, he appeared to grow more attached to them, wanting to help them, always willing to spend his gold on them. Does he wish to profit from our marriages?

"Oh," she finally said, realizing she had been quiet for too long. She could feel her brother staring at the back of her head, but she didn't turn to face him.

"She'll be married to someone who can help secure me, my throne," Viserys' voice pulled at her, an insistent tug that made her turn to see he was still staring at her. While his fingers were busy rubbing Doreah's breasts, a bit too roughly given her face, but he didn't see it. His sharp face and lilac eyes were on her, a feverish look that made her turn away. "But the Magister is right, part of being a king is hosting those beneath you, to make them see you and feel appreciated," He slapped Doreah's buttocks, who let out a soft noise of surprise before hastily standing up. "So we'll be starring in our own little mummer's farce," He didn't spare either of them a second look, grabbing Doreah's hand and leading her back to his chambers.

"Such noble insight," Magister Illyrio said to the retreating form of her brother, before turning back to her, and gesturing for her to join him. His silver platter of fruit had been taken away with still much of it left to be replaced by another bejeweled platter. This one was covered in various cheeses and small meats.

She did, taking a seat far enough from him to still be considered close without giving offense. "What was his name again?" She had already forgotten in the excitement of this unexpected news.

"Dagon Farwynd," Illyrio answered with a fond look in her direction.

"He is not from the Great Houses?" She furrowed her brow. Viserys had implied as much, but she was hoping Illyrio would provide more satisfying answers.

"No," Illyrio chuckled, "But I dare say, he has amassed enough wealth to rival one or two of them," with an imperious gesture, a servant who had been waiting at the other side of the room, came forward to bring her a glass of wine while a second came forward with a different fruit platter.

The goblet in her hand was embedded with colorful gemstones. I hold more wealth in my hand than either myself or my brother had seen in years. She thanked the servant, a young boy who gave her a shy smile before demurely dipping his head and retreating back to his position.

"How?" She asked, still looking at her expensive goblet, having not yet taken a sip from it.

"Expeditions," Illyrio said, "Trade," he added when he saw that she had still been confused. "Like Corlys the Sea Snake and Alyn the Oakenfist. Those you do know?" he asked with a knowing smile.

She knew those names and said as much. "Does that mean he's traveled the world?"

"He has made two very profitable expeditions these last few years, one to Qarth and one to Yi Ti and Leng," Illyrio slurped from his cup, "Each one making him, his men, and his backers very rich." The glint in his eyes made her know that he must have been one of them. "You must understand, Princess, the seas are dangerous and lost cargo can be expensive even with the proper precautions in place, but our good friend, Dagon Farwynd, doesn't lose ships." Illyrio said proudly, "Which means his ships always return brimming with all the wealth the exotic east has to offer, with our investments returning tenfold." He bit into a piece of cheese, hard. "At least," he finished the cheese with one more bite.

Daenerys had been to sea many times, she and Viserys had to, to avoid the Usurper's assassins, and she had heard the stories of ships sinking. Of sudden storms appearing to wreak havoc before disappearing just as quickly, leaving behind wrecks and death. She loved the sea, traveling on the ship, watching one city disappear behind them, and then later watching another one bloom on the horizon in front of them. But in the back corner of her mind was that tiny sliver of fear, gnawing at her, making her wonder: Will our ship be next to sink?

Illyrio clapped his large hands, waking her from her reverie, but he wasn't looking at her. He had made the noise to get his servants to clear the empty platter in front of him. He then returned his attention to her, seemingly aware of where her pensive thoughts were drifting. "Do you wish to know more?" He asked, already knowing her answer, but he waited until she nodded. "Your suitor got his start as a young captain, one of many who we," he waved one of his large hands. His fat fingers wiggling like worms, "The Free Cities pay to clear out the Basilisk Islands when the pirates grow too bold and disrupt our trade." He had himself another glass of wine, poured and brought to him. He didn't acknowledge the servant, just taking the wine as if it was hovering in the air, waiting for him.

"He was the one who was able to track the pirates' captain and his ships," Illyrio's wine was red, droplets of it dribbling down his forked beard. "You see, the pirates had decided to set a trap, hiding themselves, preparing for an ambush that would've decimated our little fleet, but he," Illyrio paused, "knew exactly where they were lying in wait, days before they were spotted. That allowed them to spring their own trap," The magister's smile was thin, and his eyes were hard, showing no remorse to the men who had likely cost him money, "And the pirates were purged."

"How?" She asked, curious at how such a trick could be done. "How did he find them?"

Illyrio hesitated, "Well princess, you must understand sailors are very superstitious," he let out a light laugh, "And they ah claim, he had a means to find them."

"What sort of means?" She said, noticing how his tone changed.

He shrugged his massive shoulders. "Let us just say that his reputation in that venture earned him the epithet, The Demon of the Tides."

Daenerys felt a slight chill come over her. It wasn't just the name, but the evasiveness of the magister's answer. He dismissed the sailors for being too superstitious, but she was certain, Illyrio thought or believed there were kernels of truth to those stories. Stories he chose not to divulge to her. When she pulled herself from her thoughts, she saw Illyrio had gotten up from his seat, she stood as well.

"I'll have some things brought to your room," he said kindly, "You must look the part of a Targaryen princess, after all."

"Thank you," Despite weeks of his generosity, she was still taken aback by it, and suspicious. Viserys never questioned it, because he thought it was his due as the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms. She did, because she doubted men of Illyrio's wealth had such deep wells of generosity. With the news of this suitor, she wondered if this was how he was planning to make his next profit. To use their betrothals as another means to earn coin or as another investment, he'd see flourish.

He waved a fat hand, the rings glinting in the light. "It is my honor, princess." He ducked his head, as if he was her guest and she the generous host.

Daenerys didn't let her thoughts linger on her host; she went back to her spacious quarters to prepare herself for tonight's dinner with her unexpected suitor. Her mind drifted towards this Dagon Farwynd, but instead of conjuring him to appear before her at the Magister's manse, she saw herself on the seas, on one of his ships. He was beside her, but his face remained elusive, with how the sun was slanting down on them, but it didn't bother her, because it didn't matter. She somehow felt at ease in his presence. Something she never felt with her brother. We're chasing the horizon. And she was happy.


A/N:

Dagon Farwynd is a second son from House Farwynd of the Lonely Light. I'm aware there are other Farwynd houses. This will come up in later chapters.

-This is happening before "Game of Thrones" starts. Daenerys and Viserys have only been with Illyrio for about a month or so at this point. They came under his protection in the books b/c he was working on the Khal Drogo betrothal, but here its different. That's what makes AUs fun.
-In the books, Daenerys mentions her enjoyment of the sea/sailing. It's brought up here briefly but will come up again.
-I'm not a nautical expert and it will show at times despite the research I've done for this story. So sorry about that. And yet here I am writing a story focused on it. Well, I do like to challenge myself.

Okay, onto the second part of my author notes:
-This story will likely be short, including short chapters, and other writer short cuts. There will likely be time skips. There will likely be more telling than showing.
-This is just an easy story I'm writing and not stressing over.

-This story will have slow updates.

So, if you can accept that this is just a fun and simple writing exercise then welcome, and I hope you enjoy this.

Until next time,

-Spectre4hire