Chapter 39: Hopeless Romantic
Pulling her thoughts back to the present, Daenerys sat up on the bed and began to tidy herself, intending to rest early. Suddenly, two dull thuds sounded outside the tent. The flap was pushed open, and an Unsullied wearing a spiked helm stepped inside.
"Who are you?" Daenerys demanded sharply. Grey Worm and the Unsullied would never enter her tent without announcing themselves.
"Your Grace, it's me—Daario."
The man removed his spiked helm, revealing a charming smile. But halfway through that smile, he froze as he saw Drogon leap onto Daenerys's shoulder.
He had expected handmaids in her tent—but not the small black dragon. He had assumed Drogon would be with the other two.
After witnessing how effortlessly and precisely Drogon had slit Mero's throat, Daario—who had survived multiple battles and won several matches in Meereen's fighting pits—felt no confidence at all facing the dragon.
"Captain Daario," Daenerys said calmly, "what business brings you here at night?"
She knew he had slipped in secretly, and that his intentions were likely hostile—yet she showed not the slightest fear.
After what Drogon had done to the Second Sons earlier that day, what threat could one Daario pose?
Seeing that Drogon made no move against him, Daario slowly regained his usual composure.
"Your Grace, I came here originally to assassinate you. That was the decision of Captain Mero and Lieutenant Prendahl. But I did not agree with them."
"So you found a better solution," Daenerys said evenly.
"Yes," Daario replied. "I decided to bring them to you in person."
Daenerys frowned slightly, confused by his words.
Thud. Thud.
Daario removed the sack from his shoulder and dumped its contents onto the ground. Two severed heads rolled out. One still bore a long scar across the face.
Mero. And Prendahl.
Daenerys had not expected such a brutal declaration of loyalty. It reminded her unpleasantly of Xaro Xhoan Daxos, and she frowned again.
Drogon, on the other hand, was unmoved. He already knew Daario's ambitions lay with the Dragon Queen herself.
"What do you want in return?" Daenerys asked. She had no intention of allowing an uncontrollable danger to remain at her side.
"Your grace and beauty have utterly captivated me," Daario said, his eyes shining.
Daenerys met his gaze coldly.
"The last man who said that to me is dead."
"Then he was not as sincere as I am," Daario replied with an easy smile.
Daenerys did not doubt the truth of his words. In his eyes, she saw something Xaro had never possessed. Still, this was no small matter. She would not lightly accept a man who murdered his own commanders.
Nor would she accept his implied request.
She was no longer the desperate girl who had nothing but three hatchlings.
Her dragons could now burn armies many times their size. She had her Queensguard. She commanded nearly ten thousand elite soldiers. She no longer needed to trade herself for ships or protection.
"I will not accept your offer," Daenerys said decisively.
"Your Grace decides too soon," Daario replied calmly. "You do not yet understand who I am."
Daenerys was not about to be swayed so easily by his burning gaze or honeyed words.
"You killed your own commander without hesitation," she said coolly. "Why should I believe that one day you wouldn't do the same to me?"
"I didn't join the Second Sons to take orders from an arrogant fool like Mero or a talentless brute like Prendahl," Daario replied without hesitation. "I joined to temper myself—to grow stronger."
"But toward you, my queen, I hold only sincerity and devotion. Those would never allow me to raise a blade against you."
[What a hopeless romantic.] Drogon couldn't help mocking inwardly as he listened to Daario's intense and embarrassingly earnest declaration.
"Then speak your oath of loyalty," Daenerys said, clearly unwilling to endure any more of his flowery rhetoric.
Daario drew his arakh from his waist and dropped to one knee, resting the curved blade across his thigh.
"The Second Sons are yours, my queen. My blade, my heart, and my life all belong to you."
Drogon: […]
"I accept your loyalty," Daenerys said solemnly.
Her decision was not made lightly. The primary reason she accepted Daario was simple—Drogon knew of him, and more importantly, had not objected.
Though Daenerys still had no idea what "male concubine" meant, she trusted that if Daario posed any real danger, Drogon would have warned her.
"My queen," Daario said as he rose, "I propose that we take Yunkai tonight."
"Why tonight?" Daenerys asked, puzzled. She did not yet suspect any hidden malice.
"The deaths of Mero and Prendahl haven't spread yet. The Wise Masters of Yunkai don't know," Daario explained. "Once they do, their defenses will only tighten."
"And I know of a small gate that leads into the city. If I take two or three skilled men inside, we can open the main gates from within and let the army pour in."
"The small gate?" Daenerys asked, feigning ignorance. "Isn't it guarded?"
"It is—but lightly," Daario answered. "A handful of capable fighters would be enough."
Daenerys frowned.
That wasn't what Varys's little birds had reported.
Was Daario rushing things… or laying a trap?
She glanced discreetly at Drogon.
No reaction.
Now she was truly torn. Should she trust Daario—or Varys?
After a moment's hesitation, she said, "I'll decide after consulting Jorah and the others."
"Of course," Daario replied smoothly.
---
The War Council
Being summoned so late puzzled Jorah and Barristan alike. When they saw Daario inside the council tent, both nearly reached for their swords.
Daenerys quickly explained why Daario was there. Only then did they lower their guard—though not their suspicion.
She then laid out Daario's proposal.
As soon as she finished, Jorah and the others exchanged doubtful looks. Even Daario sensed something was wrong.
"When did you personally scout this small gate?" Jorah asked bluntly.
"I haven't," Daario admitted. "Some Second Sons mercenaries used it at night to sneak into the city for… entertainment."
Jorah glanced at the others.
"Are you trying to lure our best men into a trap?" Barristan spoke up sharply.
Every capable fighter under Daenerys was a commander-level asset. If they were lost, she would be crippled.
"You know about this gate already?" Daario finally realized why they were staring at him that way—including the look Daenerys had worn earlier.
No one answered immediately. All eyes turned to Daenerys.
"The gate is now heavily guarded," she said coldly, fixing Daario with a steady gaze. "Sending anyone there would be suicide. Explain that."
For the first time, Daario's expression shifted.
He had sworn loyalty moments ago—only to appear as if he were leading her commanders into a death trap. No explanation sounded convincing now.
After a long pause, he said carefully, "Then perhaps the gate was reinforced after that mercenary left."
The room fell silent.
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