A/N: I want to start this chapter by thanking JaimelelConquistador who was kind enough to make the awesome cover image for this story. They took my idea and with their talent was able to make it a reality as well as improving it. They made the choice for the shark's color and background. You can find them over on deviantart to check out more of their awesome work. Thanks again!

The cover image serves as Dagon's personal sigil.

Those of you who were kind enough to leave reviews for chapter 2 had said you enjoyed Dagon's POV (which was great to hear. Thanks for that) so here we are with another one.

Farwynd & Fire

By Spectre4hire

6: The Plan

"The food is ready, m'lord."

He saw Thearya from the corner of his vision. She had been bound to a pillow house in Lys, until Dagon had seized the ship that was taking her and many others. He had killed the slavers and claimed the slaves as his, having paid the iron price for them. In the blink of an eye, all those a board's fortunes had changed for the better. The Drowned God had seen to it.

"Have it sent up to my solar," he said, "We will be receiving the magister soon."

"As you wish, m'lord."

She had been pretty enough for him to make a salt wife, but he hadn't. Under him, those slaves he captured had become his thralls. They now served him in either this manse or in his other home in Braavos. However, knowing the Braavosi have no love for thralls, Dagon saw to it that they were paid and protected in the two Free Cities. They were thralls only in name, but they still served. He relied on Braavos too much to risk upsetting them. Not just for their merchants or shipwrights, but their legendary Iron Bank where a portion of his growing fortune was kept.

"M'Lord?" Thearya had returned, "Which solar?"

"The one I use to conduct my businesses."

I have more rooms than I need. He idly mused, listening to her retreating footsteps. Rightly or wrongly, they called those two rooms solars. He knew they referred to them differently, based on the tables in them. The one he instructed Thearya to was the one he used for more formal meetings. They had been heard to call this one The Sea. While his more private one was called The Island.

He had wanted this manse not because of its vast size, but its location. It had been essential that he had one on the bay. In one of those many rooms, Dagon waited for the magister's arrival. His attention was on the table in front of him. Atop it, neatly arranged across many rows were his model ships. He had a model made for every ship he owned. They were expertly crafted to serve as an exact miniature of the one they were based on.

The Fin, The Voyager, The Sea Spector, The Stargazer, The Sea Bolt, The Iron Squall, The Defiant, The Iron Fist. And there were many more, which he had brought with him across the world. Most Westerosi don't bother to pass Volantis, but he was not afraid. He sailed beyond them all, and the Drowned God has blessed me for my bravery. His ships had gone to Qarth, Yi Ti, and Leng. The silks and spices alone were enough to make him wealthier than most of the nobility of the Seven Kingdoms or Free Cities, but he brought back other exotic luxuries, and his share of gold and gems.

And there was still more gold and glory to be found , he thought of the raiders they killed, and of other sellsails who tried to attack his fleet only to rue it. Their bounties had become his. Their past plunders were added to his ships, more wealth to be had. He moved against slaver's ships when he could, taking their slaves and turning them into his thralls. Men and women as far as north of the Wall to as far east of Qarth now knew the mercy of the Drowned God.

He made more still by letting ships come with him, for a fee and a cut of their cargo. Or protecting them across shorter journeys between the Free City ports, helping merchants who were afraid of pirates. They paid him for protection, and he had yet to fail any of them. His reputation and his wealth had been hard earned, and blessed by the Drowned God. I'm far from finished. His successful voyage to Yi Ti and Leng made him certain he could do it.

Asshai, the Sea Snake had gone there as his second voyage, the first westerosi to sail there, and Dagon would make it his third voyage. And then from Asshai, he planned on returning to the ports of his previous voyages, taking on their cargo as well, and coming back with the wealth of all the east aboard his ships. His fleet intact with each ship filled to the brim. This cargo won't be lost to the sea, taken by either storms or pirates.

That's what made Dagon different from the great Sea Snake. Lord Corlys lost ships. On his ninth voyage to Qarth, he sailed with twenty ships, but he lost six on the voyage back. The venture still made the Sea Snake a vast amount of wealth. But I would've brought more of them back, and those six ships' lost wealth should not be ignored. Even if Dagon was to lose a ship or two, it paled to what others would lose if they sailed a similar voyage.

The Drowned God will have risen me up in three voyages near a level of fortune that took the Sea Snake nine to achieve.

"Your absence was noticed."

In the center of the room was a large table made from the hull of the pirate's ship he sunk all those years ago. Remembering the story of Aegon the Conqueror, Dagon had commissioned his own table to resemble not just Westeros, but Essos, and its surrounding seas and islands. He had the artisans look and study dozens of maps, cobbling together all the information and details collected before them so he could make it as close to perfect as possible.

Once its shape was finished, it was then painted and labeled. Much of the lands were barely covered, depicted, or labeled. They were inconsequential. It was the seas that mattered. It was to those the vivid blue seas where his eyes often went. All that blue, it was humbling to see the vast realm of the Drowned God. At how far His dominion stretched, touching so many different lands and kingdoms. All that lay within His grasp.

Dagon enjoyed maps. To see the small little dot to the far west on the table, my home. And then to see the great expanse of land and sea that separated him from it. To see how far he's traveled from that little speck. To put his finger on Lonely Light, and then trace it through the Sunset Sea, and up to the Narrow Sea where he resided in Pentos. Or to keep traveling east, past the ruins of the great Valyrian Empire all the way to the Jade Sea.

"I'm sure my gold was noticed first," Dagon was the only one sitting at his table, taking his seat in front of where Volantis was marked.

Magister Illyrio sat on a large plush cushioned couch that looked like a chair with the magister's wide frame. He had his wine goblet atop one of the Qohorik stands he had brought back from his expedition to Qarth. He showed no interest in the offerings Dagon's kitchen thralls had made for his visit: stuffed dates, sugared almonds, and honeyed figs. "Well, yes our king did not mind, but the princess seemed disappointed about your absence."

He'd not forget her stiffness or her coldness at the mention of his thralls, but he was not worried. She will learn. He gave a polite nod to show he may actually believe the magister's words.

"I may need to buy this from you," Illyrio pointed a fat finger at a screen Dagon had gotten in Leng. It was a beautiful painting of a serene looking village nestled at the bottom of a mountain whose name Dagon did not know.

"You can't afford it, my friend," Dagon smiled.

Illyrio laughed, making the couch tremble beneath him. He wagged the same finger he had used to point at the screen at Dagon. "I'm pleased to see how much you have prospered since we first met, Lord Dagon."

His smile remained, remembering their first encounter all those years ago. He had been introduced to the Magister after his victory over the pirates. Illyrio had not been bothered by the name that was given to Dagon on that day, because he saw an opportunity. He had reached out to his contacts to help Dagon, provided ships for him to add to his. He was rewarded for that trust when I returned from Qarth, losing none of the Magister's ships.

"There is still more to be had," Dagon was far from satisfied. "That's why we make such great friends, Magister."

Illyrio returned the smile, "And speaking as friends, what do you think of him ?"

"That you should have sought him out earlier," He was not impressed by his future king, nor was he surprised. Dagon had heard stories about the beggar king throughout his travels. But I had hoped some of them had been exaggerated.

"Having second thoughts?" Illyrio asked lightly without a hint of doubt.

"No."

The one thing that still eluded him could only come through his support of Viserys. Land, it was a wealth he did not have. He had his homes here and in Braavos, but land in the Seven Kingdoms was different. He had considered other places from the Stepstones, to Sothoryos, but the undertaking would be enormous. In Westeros, he wouldn't need to start from the beginning. He'd already have a castle, men to work his land, to field his levies, to pay him homage, but there was no land to be had.

But war, Dagon thought, a war can redraw the map. And he'd make sure to get his piece. He'd get nothing as long as the Seven Kingdoms were at peace, but if he helped put Viserys on the throne then he'd be able to finally get what he wanted. A dream I could never grasp, he saw it beyond his reach until he had been approached by Illyrio. Dagon thought back to the day when his grandfather had put the idea in his head.

"You will not use your gifts for Balon Greyjoy," his grandfather had growled, "This folly will make you a corpse and he'll think nothing more of your death, but I won't have it."

"But, you told me to use my gifts."

Maron Farwynd had given a grim nod. "I did."

"Then how should I use them?" He hadn't understood, a boy wanting to prove himself in the middle of a war, "if not to serve the Seastone Chair?"

He would not forget the look in his grandfather's eyes that day. The memory played out as clearly to him as Illyrio sitting in front of him. The gentle caress of air, the sputter of the sail, the men japing, as the stars began to dot the darkening sky. He grabbed his shoulders, holding him close so he could not look away. "I would see you use them to take the Seastone Chair, Dagon. That should be your purpose."

And it's already started . Over the years, ironborn returned to their homes, arms glittering with gold and silver. They spoke of opportunities and riches that Dagon had provided for them. The perfect recruitment, since many left the Islands to seek him out, swearing their ships and their crews to him at the promise of glory and gold. And I've always delivered for our people while Balon broods and gives them nothing.

But as long as the stag remained on the throne, Dagon could not make his move on the Greyjoys. The Iron Throne would not permit a vassal to overthrow their liege, even one as detestable as Balon. If Baratheon allowed Greyjoy to remain after his rebellion, then Dagon could not take the risk.

"I've heard tales that your people are unable to spill your own blood," Illyrio's knowledge surprised him.

But it shouldn't, he reminded himself, the magister always kept himself informed of his friends and enemies. He suspected Illyrio sought out everything he could learn about the ironborn before he ever approached Dagon.

"There are ways around it," Dagon wasn't worried, "Besides, I don't plan on killing him." She will, when was the last time the Drowned God had been given such a royal sacrifice? Drown them and then feed them to her, piece by bloody piece. "Do not worry about my Islands, or my Fleet," he had plans for the Iron Fleet once they swore themselves to him.

"Just about our future king?" Illyrio wiped his mouth with the back of his arm, leaving a streak of red on his lavender silk sleeve. "Viserys can still be molded," he did not seem bothered by their temperamental king. "Time to smooth his rough edges."

"He's a man grown," Dagon put it bluntly. "He is what he is."

Illyrio waved his concern away with a fat hand. "Advisers can be brought in. This peace can undo those years on the run."

Dagon was not as certain, but he needed the Targaryen king. He needed the chaos his invasion would bring, and the victory they'd secure. His confidence in their plan was not entirely put in Viserys, which was why he was still committed to it. Some of his reasoning for remaining was because of the crown prince. Just as he heard stories about the Beggar King, he had stories about King Robert's son and heir. Stories that made him believe they could take the Throne from him.

"Mayhaps, a woman's touch will calm our king."

"His westerosi bride," Dagon still had not been told who she was, but the way the Magister spoke of her, it seemed to be a guarantee. He or the Spider has made a pact with them, Dagon suspected, one they'd guard until it was time to reveal her. A lady from the Reach, he guessed, knowing Lords Tarly and Rowan who had both been loyal to the dragon had daughters their king could marry. A Redwyne? He remembered his own pursuit of her, and its quick refusal. The bitter memory did not linger as Illyrio's words pulled him back.

"She will give him a few royal children and then-"

"Some accident will befall our king?" Dagon finished him, "leaving us a long regency for his heir," He saw the sense behind the plan, but it did not mean it wasn't without risk.

"Precisely," Illyrio's smile showed crooked yellow teeth.

"And what about our current king?"

"Soon," Illyrio assured him, "He will stay for as long as we need him to."

Dagon nodded. He still had voyages he planned to take, Asshai, and perhaps when he returned from the east, he'd sail north to the Shivering Sea. And not alone. The princess flickered before him, remembering her smiles when he talked about his adventures at sea. He saw them aboard his flagship, sailing to wherever they desired.

"You plan to take the princess with you when you set sail to the east?"

"She has spoken of a fondness for the sea, and she will be my wife."

"But if the king says no to your offer, will you, ah-"

"Steal her?" Dagon guessed correctly.

Illyrio offered a coy smile and a shrug as if he meant no insult since he did not say the words.

"I will not need to, because our king will listen to one of his wise councilors," Dagon gestured to the magister. "You will tell him that if my price is not met, then our king will not get my ships, and will not get my gold," He stood from his seat, "You should also remind our king that if he wishes to take his throne then he first must cross the Narrow Sea, and the Sea can be so treacherous."

A/N:

Dagon isn't asking for much. He just wants a Targaryen princess and the Iron Islands for his support. And no one even likes the Iron Islands.

It wouldn't be ASOIAF without personal biases that color our character's perspectives/motivations with Dagon he has one against the Greyjoys.

I'm making a geographical change to Westeros for the sake of this story:

I'm adding another island tentatively called "Erichland." A larger island that is sworn directly to "The Seastone Chair" (b/c I'm too lazy to make new houses). This is where the Iron Fleet is docked when not out. It has roaming farmlands tended by thralls or freed thralls, who do the farming and shepherding and the other responsibilities the Ironborn tend to scorn. It also has great forests that are used to build/repair the Fleet. This land and its people sort of serve as "the helots" with the ironborn being "The spartans." That isn't a perfect one to one comparison, but hopefully gives you a rough idea. I'm just trying to make some sense of the Iron Islands and the ironborn and how they survive/manage.

So when Dagon's finished in Asshai, he'll be coming back onto the scene just in time for the civil war to kick off. Do the dates perfectly line up? Probably not, but that's the fun of fanfiction, fudging the numbers to get them to line up for your story. I'm not sure I'll even write any chapters set in Asshai itself, b/c of all the worldbuilding likely required.

Yeah, Dagon has a Westeros and Essos map carved table. I'm aware it's not original and cliche, but I'm terrible with originality and decorations. I likely did a terrible job describing it, but the importance of it was that it was a map that did its best to capture all the seas, etc. I'm aware Essos isn't used once in the novels. Only in the ASOIAF world book, but I'm using it here b/c its plain simpler.

Thanks for reading,

-Spectre4hire

P.S: Here's my reasoning for Dagon's success in case anyone is curious:

His skinchanging helps him scout the seas and skies ahead allowing him to avoid pirates and competitors. Its been proven that animals including sharks have the ability to sense storms before they happen. These are neat tricks that can alert him to trouble to help him try to avoid it. Now, he still doesn't bat a 1.000 but the difference of losing one ship instead of five or six is quite a lot.