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Here stands one too many people…
Hearing that classic introduction, Corleone couldn't help but think of an even more classic line.
Daenerys Targaryen.
The name was familiar, of course. She was the only one in the stories who had hatched three dragons. Even so, that long string of titles still sounded a little ridiculous.
But right now, compared to a woman separated from him by thousands of leagues of Narrow Sea, Corleone was far more interested in the man standing in front of him.
He leaned back slightly in his chair, dark eyes resting calmly on the old knight who claimed to come "on the orders of his queen." The corner of his mouth lifted in a faint, amused smile.
It was the look of a man who had finally seen something he had been waiting for.
"From what I understand, the Seven Kingdoms only have one ruler," Corleone said, still seated. "And that is King Tommen Baratheon."
"As for the Targaryen you mentioned… she became history the moment Rhaegar Targaryen died at the hands of Robert Baratheon on the Trident."
"Yet you stand here claiming to carry the will of a queen. You must realize that with those words alone, I could have the Gold Cloaks arrest you for treason."
"No trial. No evidence. Just the charge of treason would be enough to keep you rotting in the Red Keep's dungeons for the rest of your life."
"Am I wrong…"
"Ser Barristan Selmy?"
The moment the name left Corleone's mouth, Bronn's brain short-circuited.
He had already been struggling when the old knight first said "Daenerys Targaryen." Now he turned to stare at the hooded man in disbelief.
Barristan didn't deny it.
The Hound, standing beside him, looked completely unsurprised.
Bronn blinked several times before it finally clicked.
That fucking dog knew the whole time!
He was the only one who had been kept in the dark.
Bronn's teeth ground together.
No wonder.
No wonder even he, Lord Bronn of Stokeworth, couldn't beat this old bastard. If he was truly Barristan Selmy, then everything made sense.
Still… being threatened by "Barristan the Bold" didn't feel quite as humiliating as it should have. After all, how many men would kill for the chance to even stand in the same room as him?
At least now he had something to brag about later.
"I once fought alongside Barristan the Bold."
Technically it had been one-sided, but it still counted as fighting, right?
The thought made Bronn grin again, as if he had just been handed a great honor.
It was understandable. Barristan Selmy's reputation was enormous—greater even than that of the legendary Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning.
His list of achievements was ridiculous.
He debuted at ten, sneaking into a tourney and daring to challenge Prince Duncan the Small. He lost, but the prince gave him the name "the Bold" anyway.
At sixteen he won the winter tourney in King's Landing, defeating both Duncan the Small and Ser Duncan the Tall, and was knighted by King Aegon V himself.
At eighteen he fought in the War of the Ninepenny Kings, charged alone into thousands of Golden Company men, and killed Maelys the Monstrous in single combat.
At twenty-three he gave up his inheritance and his betrothed to join the Kingsguard under Jaehaerys II.
At forty he infiltrated Duskendale alone, fought through thousands of enemies, and rescued the Mad King Aerys from captivity.
A year later he killed the leader of the Kingswood Brotherhood, Simon Toyne, in single combat.
During Robert's Rebellion, at the age of forty-five, he fought at the Trident despite dozens of wounds, cut down countless enemy knights, and only fell when he finally collapsed from exhaustion.
Even after Robert won the throne, he pardoned Barristan and made him Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.
At fifty-seven he still won a tourney.
And people said that even past sixty, he could still unhorse men like the Hound.
Any one of those accomplishments would have made most knights legends. Even Tywin Lannister had once admitted in public that whoever Barristan served would benefit from his presence.
A man like that… there probably wasn't a king in the world who wouldn't beg to have him as a guard.
Unfortunately for everyone, Barristan had served under one of the most unhinged kings in history.
Barristan Selmy stood in front of the desk, gray cloak brushing the floor. Sunlight caught in his clear blue eyes, calm as deep water.
He listened to Corleone's threat about treason without the slightest change in expression. Not a single line appeared on his weathered face.
"You make a fair point, Lord Vito Corleone," he said, voice low and steady.
After everything he had lived through, this kind of threat barely registered.
He straightened his back. Beneath the plain gray cloak his shoulders were still broad, his spine straight. It was the body of a man no longer young, but still hard as iron.
"You could do exactly that," Barristan continued calmly. "Handing over the traitor Barristan Selmy to the Iron Throne would be a great service."
"Lord Tywin Lannister would be pleased. He might even reward you with a castle… or perhaps the hand of his widowed daughter."
Corleone remained relaxed in his chair, dark eyes watching the old knight without answering.
"I served in the Kingsguard for nearly forty years," Barristan said, his gaze drifting toward the blue sky outside the window.
"It started with King Jaehaerys the Second…"
"King Aerys was a good king when he was young. Clever. Hardworking. Full of ideals. He wanted to make the Seven Kingdoms better."
"But then he went mad. Truly mad. I watched him lock himself inside the Red Keep for months, nails grown long like claws, obsessed with burning people alive with wildfire while he laughed at their screams."
Barristan went quiet for a moment, then continued.
"King Robert was a good man. He loved wine and women. He loved tourneys. He left the actual ruling to Jon Arryn while he hunted, whored, and drank himself senseless."
"But at least he wasn't mad. At least he didn't burn people."
"If that evil boy on the throne hadn't stripped me of my white cloak… and if he hadn't sent men to kill me the same day… perhaps I would still be serving in King's Landing. It shames me to admit it, but it's the truth."
"When he tore the white cloak from my shoulders and sent assassins after me, it was like a veil had been ripped from my eyes. I understood then that I had to find the true king… and die for him."
"Not for power. Not for honor. Not for any of that nonsense. Simply because he was someone worth dying for."
When Barristan finished, the office fell silent for a few seconds.
Corleone leaned back in his chair, studying him.
"So you believe you've found the true king?"
"Yes." Barristan met his gaze without hesitation.
"I watched her grow from a naïve girl into a true queen."
"In Slaver's Bay she freed city after city. Hundreds of thousands of slaves regained their freedom because of her. She gave the lowest people a reason to keep living… and a chance to stand on their own feet."
Barristan paused. The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. "Just like you, Lord Vito Corleone."
"What you have done in Flea Bottom, she has done in Slaver's Bay."
"You both lift people who have been stepped on and teach them how to walk upright again."
"Her Grace has heard of your accomplishments here in King's Landing. She is very interested. She said that if she wishes to take back the Iron Throne, she will need allies in Westeros."
"And you, Vito Corleone, are the first person she wishes to meet."
Barristan fell silent after that, blue eyes steady as he waited for Corleone's response.
The office was quiet again.
Bronn sat in his chair, barely daring to breathe. He felt like a rabbit caught between two predators.
He glanced nervously at Corleone, then at Barristan, and swallowed.
Fuck.
Suddenly his ruined castle didn't seem quite so important anymore.
Interesting.
Corleone looked at Barristan. There was no lie in those blue eyes. He knew exactly what Daenerys Targaryen had done in Slaver's Bay. But that didn't mean he agreed with her methods.
Her actions had also brought chaos, death, and famine.
She freed Astapor, and Astapor fell into civil war. She freed Yunkai, and the slave masters raised armies to strike back.
Yes, Daenerys had three dragons and a large army.
But her dragons were still young and difficult to control. Her army was a mix of freed slaves, sellswords, and "surrendered" slave masters whose loyalty was questionable at best.
Corleone wasn't blind to Daenerys's ideals. He simply knew how often ideals shattered against reality.
He had seen too many people march in with dreams and leave in coffins.
Leaning back in his chair, Corleone's dark eyes stayed on Barristan as the corner of his mouth rose.
"You make a strong case, Ser."
"But before we discuss any kind of partnership, there's a small problem we need to deal with first."
He turned his head toward the Hound standing by the door.
"Close it."
The Hound didn't ask questions. He simply reached out and shut the heavy oak door. The latch dropped into place with a solid clack.
Bronn, still sitting in the chair, suddenly felt a chill run down his spine.
What the fuck?
They were just talking business. Why close the door?
Before he could finish the thought, Corleone spoke again.
"Grab him."
Grab who?
Bronn didn't even have time to react before a massive hand clamped around the back of his neck from behind and yanked him out of the chair like he weighed nothing.
"What the—!"
He yelped as his feet left the floor. He kicked instinctively, but the grip was like iron. Five fingers dug into his neck so hard he couldn't move.
"Don't struggle," the Hound's rough voice muttered right next to his ear. "This won't hurt much. I promise."
Bronn felt his heart slam into his throat.
A cold blade pressed against the side of his neck. He could feel the edge resting right over his carotid artery. One more push and it would open.
He froze completely, dangling in the air with his limbs hanging limp.
From the corner of his eye he could see the Hound's burned face inches from his own.
Corleone raised one finger to his lips.
"Shh…"
"Quiet, Lord Bronn."
His voice was calm, almost gentle, but there was no smile in his dark eyes.
"You haven't done anything wrong. There's no need to worry."
Bronn stared at him, confused and terrified.
Then why the fuck are you having me grabbed?!
He didn't get the chance to ask.
Corleone had already turned back to Barristan.
"Since we're going to be working together," he said mildly, "we need to clean up a few loose ends."
"I don't like taking unnecessary risks, Ser. The fewer people who know about this conversation, the safer we all are."
He tilted his head slightly, still watching Barristan.
"I assume you feel the same way."
Barristan stood there in silence, blue eyes moving from Bronn to Corleone and back again.
"What are you planning to do?" he asked at last, voice low.
Corleone spread one hand in an open gesture.
"I suggest you do it yourself."
"It will also give me a chance to see just how far you're willing to go for the queen you serve."
As he spoke, the Hound stepped forward without hesitation. He kept one hand locked around Bronn's neck while flipping the dagger around and offering the hilt to Barristan.
The blade caught the afternoon light. Bronn's terrified face was reflected on the steel.
Bronn stared at the dagger, then at Barristan's approaching hand, and felt his mind go completely blank.
Wait.
Why me?!