“Dany come here.” Viserys had been struggling all day to get his younger sister to comply to his wishes but she was not having it. Viserys tried his best to be patient with the pre-teen but his patience was wearing thin. “Daenerys!” He snapped, yanking her by the arm to pull her back down to the seat, attempting to finish her elaborate braids he’d been working on, his nimble fingers finishing the last touches. “Sir, sagon rȳ aōha sȳrje behavior. Understood?”
This was their last hope, this Magister
Illyrio Mopatis. He was their last hope and he sounded like someone who wanted to take him seriously, as the King of Westeros should be. Not discarded and thrown out like some dog. Not giving away his and his families possessions to eat and live off of.
Goldnwulf 