Chapter 184 — Cersei's Despair
Bolts the size of spears slammed into Drogon's body—only to bounce off with dull, metallic clinks. A few wedged briefly between his scales, but a single shake of his massive frame was enough to dislodge them.
He pushed forward through the barrage, burning everything in his path until he reached the city gate. By then, the entire section of wall had been scorched down—reduced by a visible layer under the relentless dragonfire.
Ignoring the rain of bolts still streaking toward him, Drogon hovered before the eastern gate and unleashed a continuous torrent of flame.
The gates gave way almost instantly.
Within seconds, the entire gatehouse began to collapse.
Having reduced it to ruin, Drogon veered toward the adjacent section of wall—the very place from which the heaviest volley of bolts had been fired.
—
Inside the Red Keep, Cersei Lannister stood frozen.
"So the rumors were true… the black dragon really can burn a city while shrugging off scorpion bolts…"
Her voice was barely a whisper.
Even the newly enhanced scorpions—designed by Qyburn to pierce fortress walls—couldn't penetrate Drogon's scales.
She had expected to witness the dragon being brought down.
Instead, she was watching him tank everything… and destroy her defenses with ease.
—
On the battlements, soldiers continued firing—despite seeing with their own eyes that their weapons were useless.
Drogon was about to descend and teach them the futility of their efforts when something caught his attention.
A lone figure.
A man with a single eye, stepping away from a scorpion.
Euron Greyjoy.
So that was why several bolts earlier had flown straight for his head.
Drogon immediately changed course.
—
Inside the walls, Euron had just descended from the battlements when a colossal shadow blocked his path.
Drogon landed before him.
Yet Euron didn't panic.
Instead, he looked up—almost curiously—studying the dragon.
Bigger than before.
Stronger.
More magnificent.
A flicker of regret passed through his mind—he had gone through hell to obtain the dragon horn, yet had never succeeded in controlling one.
Even now, facing death, there was still greed in his eye.
Drogon almost admired it.
Madness. Boldness. Ambition.
All in one man.
But that didn't mean he would be spared.
Sensing him carefully, Drogon noticed something missing—the faint aura tied to the Old Gods was gone. Perhaps it had vanished when Euron's "crow's eye" was destroyed.
No matter.
This time, Drogon wouldn't let him slip away.
He opened his jaws—
And bathed Euron in dragonfire.
The flames consumed him instantly.
A fitting end… and a quiet repayment for what had once been done to Rhaegal.
—
Returning to the skies above the wall, Drogon saw the remaining soldiers abandon their scorpions entirely, fleeing in panic.
He didn't pursue them.
Instead, he turned his gaze toward the Red Keep.
He had felt it all along—
Someone watching him.
A gaze filled with intensity.
With a single beat of his wings, he surged toward the castle.
—
"Your Grace… the black dragon seems to have noticed you."
Qyburn spoke carefully beside Cersei.
She blinked, her eyes refocusing, and looked up again.
Drogon was coming.
Closer.
Closer.
Standing rigid by the window, her chest rising and falling, Cersei didn't look afraid.
Not truly.
What burned in her eyes was something else—
Defiance.
Fury.
Refusal to yield.
—
Below, Kevan Lannister stood with a large contingent of guards, staring upward.
He had assumed Daenerys was launching a full assault after Cersei refused to send troops north.
But this—
This was different.
There was no army.
No fleet.
No siege.
Just one dragon.
And yet, after witnessing Drogon shrug off scorpion fire and tear through the walls, Kevan understood something clearly:
The rumors from Slaver's Bay were true.
This dragon alone could take a city.
And its purpose here… seemed even clearer.
Not conquest.
But pressure.
A message.
Still—
Kevan couldn't shake the strange feeling.
Using a single dragon to confront Cersei directly…
It wasn't just a threat.
It was something far more deliberate.
Drogon understood perfectly well—Cersei Lannister might be unwilling, might be furious… but in the face of absolute power, none of that mattered.
This was exactly what he wanted her to see.
The scorpions she relied on so heavily?
Worthless.
Once his message was delivered, Drogon cast one last glance downward—at Kevan Lannister and the gathered soldiers—before swooping back to the ruined wall.
With a casual motion, he seized three scorpions and a bundle of bolts in his claws—
—and flew toward Dragonstone.
—
"Your Grace…"
As Drogon's massive silhouette faded into the distance, Cersei remained frozen, staring at the sky.
Qyburn called out again, concern in his voice.
Cersei blinked slowly.
Then turned—
trying to walk back to her seat.
But her legs refused to move.
It was as if all strength had drained from her body.
Qyburn quickly stepped forward to steady her.
Looking into her eyes, he saw it clearly—
Not fear.
Not rage.
But something far worse.
Despair.
Even he had no words. Anyone who had witnessed a dragon shrug off scorpion fire and burn through a city's defenses would feel the same.
And Cersei… had placed all her hope in those weapons.
—
Dragonstone
More than two hours after Drogon's departure, the war council had reconvened in the map chamber, waiting.
"He's back," Daario Naharis said first, spotting the massive shape in the distance.
Daenerys Targaryen saw him too.
But unlike usual—he hadn't shrunk.
She immediately stepped outside, the others following behind.
—
In the castle courtyard, Drogon descended—
And casually dropped three scorpions and a bundle of bolts onto the ground like discarded toys.
Above, Rhaegal and Viserion circled before landing beside him, curiously inspecting the unfamiliar weapons.
With all three dragons present, the already modest courtyard suddenly felt cramped.
Daenerys rushed forward the moment Drogon landed, circling him anxiously, checking for injuries.
She knew how powerful King's Landing's upgraded scorpions were—far deadlier than those used in Meereen.
Only after confirming that not even a few scales were missing did she finally relax.
Behind her, Tyrion Lannister and the others exchanged glances.
The scorched scent clinging to Drogon… the captured scorpions…
There was no doubt anymore.
He had gone to King's Landing—alone.
What exactly he had done there, they couldn't know.
No man—or bird—could match Drogon's speed.
Though Jorah Mormont had already sent riders for news, it would take at least a day for confirmation to return.
For now…
All they could do was wait.
—
Two hours later, Jorah entered the map chamber with a raven's message from King's Landing.
Daenerys read it—
—and frowned slightly before passing it around.
Cersei had not fully agreed.
Instead of committing two-thirds of her forces, she would only send half:
Forty thousand troops from King's Landing, plus over ten thousand under Ramsay Bolton in Winterfell.
Total: fifty-five thousand.
And there was a condition.
Command of those forces would fall to Jaime Lannister.
In other words—
She wanted Jaime released.
—
After reading the letter, every adviser—including Tyrion—turned to Daenerys.
Waiting.
Her decision would determine everything.
She had expected Drogon's show of force to bring full compliance.
Instead, Cersei had bargained.
But even so—
Fifty thousand additional troops would significantly improve their chances against the dead.
As for Jaime…
Daenerys had never truly intended to keep him imprisoned forever. Once King's Landing fell, she had planned to release him anyway.
She glanced at Tyrion—catching the faint worry in his eyes.
Then turned to Jorah.
"Send a reply to King's Landing," she said calmly.
"We will meet tomorrow at Duskendale to sign the truce."
Tyrion exhaled quietly.
For the first time since the letter arrived—
There was a path forward.