Game of Thrones(ASOIAF): The Sorcerer Prince

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Harry Potter and all of its characters belong to J.K. Rowling.

ASOIAF and all of its characters belong to GRRM

I own nothing but the original characters I make.

”Dialogue”

’Thoughts’

-Author notes-

Chapter 113: The Kraken’s Threat

The silence that followed Euron Greyjoy’s proposal was thick enough to choke on.

Daenerys sat perfectly still, her violet eyes fixed on the one-eyed pirate lord, her expression revealing nothing of the thoughts that raced behind her calm facade.

She had learned long ago that showing weakness was the quickest path to destruction, and she would not give this man the satisfaction of seeing her unsettled.

Euron’s smile remained fixed on his face, his single blue eye gleaming with amusement. He seemed to be enjoying the moment, savoring the weight of his words and the reaction they provoked in others. He was a man who fed on the discomfort of those around him, who drew power from the fear he inspired.

Daenerys allowed the silence to stretch, letting him wonder what she was thinking. She had been proposed to before, had been sold like cattle by her own brother to a Dothraki warlord.

Viserys had not hesitated to marry her off for an army, and he had paid for his arrogance with molten gold because he had failed to understand the people he had made a deal with.

Now Euron Greyjoy was making the same mistake, assuming that a queen would be so desperate for ships that she would bind herself to a pirate.

She wanted to smile at the irony. They were so similar, her brother and this kraken lord...both so certain of their own superiority, both so blind to the woman who sat before them.

But she hid her emotions well, keeping her expression cool and regal, a mask that had served her through countless challenges.

”You offer me marriage, Lord Greyjoy,” she said, her voice carrying a note of cold calculation. ”But marriage is a transaction, and transactions require payment. What can you offer that would make me consider such a union?”

Euron’s smile widened, his blue-stained lips curling with satisfaction. He had expected this question, had prepared for it, and he leaned forward with the confidence of a man who believed he held all the cards.

”The Iron Islands command the finest fleet in the known world, Your Majesty,” he said, his voice smooth as silk. ”I have noticed that you are... lacking in that department. You have thousands of soldiers at your command, yet you meet me on this small vessel.” He gestured around the cabin with a dismissive wave, his rings catching the torchlight. ”I made some inquiries after I arrived. Imagine my surprise when I learned that you possess only three ships.”

’Only one is mine, though.’ She thought.

Daenerys’s expression did not change, but she felt a flicker of annoyance.

He was correct, and he knew it. Three ships were not enough to transport eight thousand Unsullied across the Narrow Sea, and the Masters’ vessels were mostly fishing boats and merchant cogs.

She needed a true fleet, and Euron Greyjoy was offering her one...with strings attached.

”With the Iron Fleet at your side, Your Majesty, you will have no such issues,” Euron continued, his voice dripping with persuasion. ”I can give you not just ships, but men...thousands of them, hardened warriors who have spent their lives at sea. Together, we could sweep across Westeros like a storm, and no one would be able to stand against us.”

Daenerys inclined her head, pretending to consider his offer. ”You make a compelling argument, Lord Greyjoy. But I have already taken Astapor, and with it, all the ships in its harbor. And if that is not enough, I plan to visit the other cities of Slaver’s Bay. Yunkai and Meereen. I am confident I can acquire enough vessels to transport my army.”

Euron’s smile faltered, just slightly. He had not expected her to be so dismissive, so quick to counter his offer. ”The ships of Slaver’s Bay are merchant vessels, Your Majesty. They are not built for war. They would be sitting ducks against any serious naval force like mine.”

”They would serve their purpose,” Daenerys said, her voice flat. ”I do not need to defeat the Lannister fleet in battle. I only need to reach Westeros. Once my army is on land, the ships are irrelevant. My army and my dragons can do the rest.”

A flicker of frustration, and perhaps a hint of respect, passed across Euron’s features. He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could speak, a commotion erupted from outside the cabin.

There were loud shouts, the pounding of running footsteps across the deck. The clash of metal and the cracking of wood echoed through the ship, followed by the unmistakable sound of bodies hitting the water.

Daenerys’s eyes moved instinctively to her advisors, then toward the door, her mind racing with possibilities. Was this part of Euron’s plan? Had he brought more men than she had anticipated?

Jorah’s hand tightened on his sword, his body tensing for battle. ”Khaleesi...”

Euron remained still, his smile returning as if nothing were amiss. ”Do not be alarmed, Your Majesty. That is likely my men. They tend to get... rowdy when they are on land after a long voyage.

They have been cooped up on those ships for weeks, and they need to stretch their legs.” He waved a hand dismissively, as if the violence outside was of no consequence.

Daenerys fixed him with a cold stare, her voice carrying an edge of warning. ”I hope they will behave civilly while they are here, Lord Greyjoy. The people of Astapor have seen enough violence for a lifetime.”

Euron waved his hand again, brushing aside her concern with a gesture that was both casual and arrogant. ”They will settle down eventually. Do not worry about them.” He leaned forward, his eye gleaming with a new intensity. ”But I was saying... You have rejected my offer of ships, Your Majesty. But I have something else to offer. Something you will not be able to refuse so easily.”

Daenerys raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued despite herself. ”And what is that?”

Euron’s smile widened, his blue-stained lips parting to reveal teeth that seemed almost too white, too perfect. ”I have sailed to places that no living man has ever returned from, Your Majesty. I have crossed seas that are not on any map. I have seen things that would drive lesser men mad.” He paused, letting the words hang in the air, savoring the effect they had on his audience. ”I have even sailed the Smoking Sea.”

The cabin fell silent. Jorah’s face went pale, his hand tightening on his sword. Lyssara’s eyes widened, her ruby pulsing with a faint inner light.

Even Varys seemed to have lost his composure, his carefully constructed mask of calm cracking for just a moment.

Daenerys felt a chill run down her spine. The Smoking Sea was the grave of Old Valyria, a place of death and ruin, where the Doom still lingered in the air and the waters themselves were poisoned. No one who sailed there ever returned...except for Joffrey, she reminded herself, and perhaps this man before her.

It was a legend that also served as a warning to those who might seek to claim the power of the dragonlords.

”You have been to Valyria?” Daenerys asked, her voice carefully neutral. ”And you survived that cursed land?”

Euron nodded, his expression one of supreme satisfaction. ”I have. And I found many interesting objects there. Relics of the old empire. Treasures beyond imagining.” He paused, his eye fixed on her with an intensity that made her skin crawl. ”And I found a horn. A dragon horn.”

The words hung in the air like a curse, heavy and poisonous. Daenerys felt her heart skip a beat, a cold knot forming in her stomach. She had heard of such things, legends of the Valyrians binding dragons with magic and horns. But she had always dismissed them as stories, as tales told to frighten children.

”A dragon horn?” she repeated, her voice flat.

Euron’s smile widened, his eye gleaming with malice. ”The Dragonbinder, they used to call it, according to some ancient documents we found. It has the power to control dragons. To bind them to the will of the one who blows it.” He paused, letting the words sink in. ”Imagine what such a thing could do, Your Majesty. Imagine what I could do with it.”

Silence descended on the cabin like a shroud. The threat was clear, even if he did not speak it aloud. If she refused him, he could use the horn to take her dragons, to turn them against her, to destroy everything she had built. Daenerys forced herself to remain calm, to keep her expression unreadable.

But inside, her mind was racing. She had always believed that dragons were controlled through bloodlines, that the bond between dragon and rider was sacred and unbreakable. But she had also seen the way Drogon looked at her sometimes, as if testing her authority, as if wondering whether she was still worthy of his allegiance. She could not be certain that the horn was a lie.

She could not be certain that her ancestors had not had access to such tools, but she could never admit this to the man before her.

”I have already heard of such artifacts, Lord Greyjoy,” Daenerys said, her voice cold as winter steel. ”But they are nothing more than trinkets without any real use. Dragons are controlled through the bloodline of Old Valyria, through the bond between rider and beast. No horn can change that.”

Euron chuckled, a low, mocking sound that seemed to come from somewhere deep in his chest. ”The Valyrians were masters of magic, Your Majesty. They built cities of black stone and created creatures of fire and blood. Are you so certain that a horn could not bind a dragon? I have seen stranger things in my travels. But if you want... we could test it. I will bring the horn, and you bring your dragons. We’ll see what happens...”

The tension in the cabin was unbearable, a wire pulled so tight it seemed ready to snap.

Jorah’s hand was white-knuckled on his sword, his face a mask of barely contained fury.

Daenerys opened her mouth to respond, to deliver a cutting remark that would put this pirate in his place. But before she could speak, the door to the cabin burst open.

Joffrey Baratheon strode into the room, his presence commanding immediate attention.

He was wearing light clothes that revealed most of his upper body, and his physique was impressive...lean and powerful, with muscles that spoke of years of training and magic. His golden hair was loose about his shoulders, and his green eyes gleamed with cold amusement.

But what drew everyone’s attention was his left arm. It was back, fully restored, the flesh as healthy and strong as if it had never been severed.

”Hey,” he greeted them with a casual, almost bored tone. ”Look what I found on one of those ships.”

The silence in the cabin was absolute as Joffrey stepped fully into the room, dragging a massive object behind him.

It was a horn...six feet from end to end, easily as long as a man was tall. It must have come from an enormous dragon, its surface made of a deep, glossy black material that seemed to drink in the light rather than reflect it.

The horn was banded with red gold and Valyrian steel, the precious metals wrapping around it in intricate spirals that caught the torchlight.

Even from across the room, Daenerys could feel the horn’s presence. It radiated an ancient power that made the hair on her arms stand on end, a warmth that seemed to emanate from deep within the artifact itself.

Its surface was smooth and reflective, but the reflections it cast were somehow twisted and distorted, as if the horn itself was alive and had a mind of its own.

The bands were covered in strange writings...Valyrian glyphs that seemed to shift and writhe under the light, their meaning just beyond comprehension. They glowed faintly, pulsing with a rhythm that matched the beating of her heart, just as the runes she had seen before in Asshai had done.

Despite her limited knowledge of magical artifacts, even Daenerys could tell at a single glance that this horn was far from a fake. It was a real thing, something her ancestors had crafted centuries ago, and it hummed with a power that made her blood run cold.

Joffrey held the horn up, examining it with casual interest, as if he had just picked up an interesting trinket from a market stall. ”Interesting craftsmanship,” he said, his voice carrying a note of genuine curiosity. ”Valyrian, I think. Very old and powerful.”

Euron’s face had gone pale, his smug expression replaced by something that looked almost like fear. He rose from his seat, his hands clenching into fists at his sides, his one eye burning with barely contained fury.

”Where did you get that?!” he demanded, his voice sharp as a blade.

Joffrey’s smile widened, his green eyes gleaming with cold amusement. ”And... who may you be?”

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