The Fall of Qarth
---
The mass surrender that began with falling weapons continued through the night.
Qarth's defenders—the mercenaries, the city guard, the desperate civilians who had taken up arms—laid down their weapons in a cascade that seemed to spread through the city like wildfire. The sight of Angelus, combined with the devastating effectiveness of the Z-Rexes and the coordinated assault of Drake cavalry and D-Raptors, had broken something fundamental in their will to resist.
By dawn, the Thirteen—Qarth's ruling merchant council—had emerged from their fortified compound to offer formal surrender. They were practical men, traders who understood that fighting a losing battle was simply bad business. Whatever they had expected when they hired six sellsword companies and warded their gates, it hadn't been this.
"The terms are the same as Yunkai," Daenerys said, standing before them with Angelus's massive form looming behind her. "Your slaves are freed. Your wealth and properties are forfeit to the Wyrmborne. You may choose integration or exile—but the choice is yours, and we won't force conversion on anyone who refuses."
The head of the Thirteen—a portly man named Xaro Xhoan Daxos whose reputation for cunning had apparently not extended to military matters—bowed his head in acceptance. "We submit to your terms, Khaleesi. Qarth is yours."
"Qarth was mine the moment my siege beasts broke your gates. This is merely acknowledgment of reality."
---
Vaes Drakarys - The Dragon's Breath
---
Six Weeks Later
The city that had been Qarth now bore the name Vaes Drakarys—the City of Dragon's Breath—and the transformation was well underway.
Unlike Yunkai, which had been primarily a slave-trading hub, Qarth possessed infrastructure that made it genuinely valuable: extensive port facilities, established trade routes to both East and West, and a merchant class that understood how to generate wealth through means other than human suffering. Daenerys had made the strategic decision to preserve as much of this infrastructure as possible, converting the economy rather than dismantling it.
The conversion programs had proven wildly successful. Qarth's population was larger than Yunkai's, and the proportion of slaves willing to accept transformation had been even higher. Within six weeks, nearly six thousand new Draconians had emerged from the ritual chambers, with another eight hundred undergoing the more intensive Dragonborn conversion. The mage academy had expanded significantly, drawing on Qarth's existing traditions of sorcery to identify candidates with unusual aptitude.
The supply routes now connected all three major Wyrmborne territories: Vaes Zaldri in the former Dothraki Sea, Vaes Zaldrizes in what had been Yunkai, and Vaes Drakarys on the coast. Caravans moved constantly between them, protected by Drake patrols and D-Raptor scouts, carrying resources and personnel where they were needed most.
The garrison structure had been formalized as well. Each city maintained a standing force sufficient for defense, with rapid-response units capable of reinforcing any position within days. The Z-Rexes rotated between territories, their presence serving as both practical defense and psychological deterrent—no one wanted to be the city that tested whether the massive beasts were as dangerous as they appeared.
---
The White Wyvern's Heart
---
Mikhail found Angelus alone on the cliffs overlooking the harbor, her massive crimson form silhouetted against the setting sun.
The white wyvern had been patient—as patient as her nature allowed—waiting for the right moment to have the conversation that had been building between them since she first gained the ability to speak. The integration of Qarth had demanded Angelus's attention, and Mikhail had understood the necessity of prioritizing duty over personal matters. But the work was largely complete now, and she could wait no longer.
Mother, she said, settling beside Angelus on the clifftop. The word felt insufficient for what she wanted to express, but it was the relationship they had established. May I speak with you?
"You've been speaking with me for weeks, Mikhail. I suspect you mean something more specific."
Yes. The white wyvern's golden eyes met Angelus's own, and there was nothing childlike in that gaze. I want to discuss what I said before. About wishing to be yours.
Angelus was quiet for a long moment, her magma-tipped tail swaying slowly as she considered her response. "I've been thinking about it as well. Your feelings... surprised me, initially. I raised you from an egg. I watched you grow, taught you to fly, guided your development. The maternal aspects of our relationship seemed clear."
They were clear to you, Mikhail replied. But I have never seen you as a mother. Not truly. You are something else—something greater. From the moment I hatched, I felt drawn to you in ways that had nothing to do with familial affection. I wanted to be near you, to please you, to belong to you in the most complete way possible.
"And now that you can articulate those feelings?"
Now I want to act on them. Mikhail's voice carried no hesitation, no uncertainty. I understand that Daenerys holds the primary place in your heart—I do not seek to replace her. But I know that you are capable of caring for more than one partner. I want to be part of that. I want to be yours.
Angelus turned to face her fully, golden eyes studying the white wyvern with an intense gaze. Mikhail met that gaze without flinching, her own eyes holding steady.
"If I accept you," Angelus said slowly, "it will not be as an equal. You would belong to me—fully and completely. I am not a gentle partner, Mikhail. I am possessive, demanding, and I expect absolute devotion from those who share my bed and my bond."
I know. Something that might have been anticipation flickered in Mikhail's expression. I want that. I want to be possessed. I want to belong to you so completely that there is no question of where my loyalty lies or to whom my heart belongs.
"Then come here."
Mikhail moved closer, her white scales gleaming in the fading light. Angelus reached out with one massive forelimb, catching the smaller wyvern and pulling her close with a strength that brooked no resistance.
The kiss that followed was not gentle.
Angelus's jaws closed over Mikhail's snout in a gesture that was half affection and half dominance, her teeth grazing scales in a display of possession that left no room for ambiguity. Mikhail shuddered beneath her, a sound escaping her throat that was part submission and part pleasure—the response of a creature that had found exactly what she had been seeking.
Yours, Mikhail said when Angelus finally released her, her mental voice carrying a tremor of satisfied surrender. I am yours. Completely.
"Yes," Angelus replied with a warm and possessive tone. "You are mine. And I'll make sure to remind you of that later." She moves her gaze across Mikhail's form, taking in the beauty of her white scales and the size of her hind quarters while licking her snout.
Mikhail notices the gaze and shudder once again in pleasure from the attention before blushing a little. Surprising to see a wyvern to do.
---
Life in Vaes Drakarys
---
The morning market had become one of Daenerys's favorite places.
She walked through the stalls with Jorah at her side, her white scales drawing respectful nods from vendors and customers alike. The market sold everything from exotic spices to enchanted trinkets, the commerce of a city that had learned to thrive under new management. Former slaves haggled with former masters, their transformed appearances making social hierarchy a matter of achievement rather than birth.
"The trade delegations from Volantis arrived yesterday," Jorah reported, "They're... cautious. They've heard about what happened to Yunkai and Qarth, and they're trying to figure out how to position themselves. Some want to establish friendly relations before we decide to expand in their direction. Others are hoping we'll exhaust ourselves and leave them alone."
"What do you think?"
"I think Volantis is the largest of the Free Cities, with the strongest military and the most entrenched slave economy. If we intend to eventually liberate their slaves—and I assume we do—it would be the most challenging target we've faced yet."
Daenerys paused at a stall selling freshly grilled fish, accepting a sample from a vendor whose partial scales marked her as a recent Draconian convert. The fish was excellent—Qarth's coastal position gave it access to seafood that the inland territories lacked.
"We're not ready for Volantis yet," she said finally. "Meereen and Astapor come first. Once we control the entire Bay, we'll have the resources and the strategic position to consider the Free Cities."
"And until then?"
"Until then, we're friendly neighbors who happen to have dragons. Let them wonder about our intentions—uncertainty is often more powerful than certainty, and the longer they spend trying to figure out what we want, the more time we have to prepare."
---
The Crimson Council
---
The council chamber in Vaes Drakarys had been designed with even more grandeur than its counterpart in Vaes Zaldri—the Qartheen apparently having believed that impressive architecture demonstrated impressive power. Angelus found it slightly gaudy but admitted that the high ceilings accommodated her true form more comfortably than most structures.
Today, however, she occupied her Dragonborn form, sitting among her council members rather than looming over them. The shift had become more common since Mikhail's acceptance into her harem; there was something to be said for being able to show physical affection to partners who couldn't be touched by a creature the size of a small building.
"The integration reports are encouraging," Jorah began, consulting his documents. "Vaes Drakarys is producing converts at an even higher rate than Vaes Zaldrizes did at this stage. The port facilities are fully operational, and trade revenue is already exceeding projections. We're in an excellent position for the next phase of expansion."
"Meereen?" Drogo asked, his deep voice carrying anticipation.
"Eventually. But there's something else I want to address first." Angelus's golden eyes swept the assembled council, her expression shifting to something that mixed irritation with amusement. "Jorah, you mentioned in your last intelligence report that Tywin Lannister and his daughter continue to dismiss the possibility of my existence. That they believe reports of dragons are exaggerations or fabrications designed to frighten the gullible."
Jorah nodded carefully. "That's correct. The information I've been feeding to Varys's network—per Daenerys's instructions—has been deliberately vague about the specifics of our forces. Tywin has apparently concluded that the stories of dragons and magical transformations are propaganda rather than reality."
"And this... irritates me."
The admission seemed to surprise several council members. Angelus was not typically someone who allowed petty concerns to influence her decisions.
"I know," she continued, her voice carrying a note of self-aware amusement. "It's childish. Strategically, their ignorance is advantageous—enemies who underestimate us are easier to defeat. I understand this intellectually. And yet..." She paused, her tail flicking with barely contained agitation. "The idea that some jumped-up human lord believes I don't exist because the concept is too inconvenient for his worldview... it bothers me more than it should."
Daenerys leaned forward, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "What are you proposing?"
"A visit. A personal demonstration that will leave absolutely no doubt in anyone's mind that I am very real, very powerful, and very uninterested in their little throne of swords." Angelus's golden eyes gleamed with anticipation. "I want to fly to King's Landing, introduce myself to their Small Council, and make it clear that while we have no interest in their uncomfortable chair, we are also not to be trifled with. Then I want to come home and get back to the serious business of building an empire."
"That sounds like fun," Daenerys said, her smile widening. "When do we leave?"
"We?"
"You didn't think I'd let you have all the entertainment without me, did you? I want to see the look on Tywin Lannister's face when he realizes the 'trained reptiles' we have are actually intelligent enough to mock him."
Drogo's deep laugh rumbled through the chamber. "The Khaleesi wishes to terrorize kings. I approve."
"What about the rest of us?" Jhogo asked. "Should we accompany you?"
"No. This is a demonstration, not an invasion. Angelus and I will go alone—she's more than capable of handling anything Westeros can throw at us, and a smaller party moves faster." Daenerys glanced at Jorah. "Keep the integration proceeding. We'll be back within a few days."
---
The Flight West
---
They departed at dawn, Angelus's massive form climbing into the sky with Daenerys secured in the riding position they had long since perfected. The wind rushed past them as they gained altitude, the coast of Essos falling away beneath them as they turned toward the distant shores of Westeros.
"<
"<
"<
"<
They flew in comfortable silence for a time, watching the sea pass beneath them in an endless expanse of blue-grey water. The Narrow Sea was well-named—at their speed, the crossing took only a few hours, and soon the coast of Westeros came into view.
The first reactions came from fishing villages along the shore.
CRASH!
A small boat capsized as its occupants scrambled to get a better look at the massive shape passing overhead, their cries of shock carrying faintly on the wind. Angelus paid them no attention, but Daenerys found herself smiling at the chaos their passage was causing.
"<
"<
As they flew deeper into the continent, the reactions intensified. Farmers abandoned their fields, staring upward with expressions of terror and wonder. A merchant caravan scattered as Angelus's shadow passed over them, horses panicking and carts overturning. A group of soldiers on some noble's errand stood frozen in the road, their weapons drawn but clearly useless against something flying so far above their reach.
"<
"<
---
King's Landing
---
The capital of the Seven Kingdoms spread beneath them like a model city, its red-roofed buildings and crowded streets seeming almost quaint from this altitude. The Red Keep dominated the skyline—a fortress that had seemed impregnable to generations of Westerosi, now looking terribly fragile beneath the shadow of a creature that could reduce it to rubble with a sustained breath.
Angelus began her descent, spiraling down toward the city in a display that was half practical and half theatrical. She wanted to be seen—wanted every man, woman, and child in King's Landing to witness her arrival and understand exactly what had come to their shores.
The panic began almost immediately.
Screams rose from the streets as people fled in every direction, their terror spreading faster than any fire. Guards on the walls shouted commands that no one followed. Bells began to ring—first one, then dozens, their frantic clamor announcing a threat that the city had no way to address.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
"<
"<
Angelus hovered over the city, her massive wings creating downdrafts that sent loose objects tumbling through the streets. She waited as the city's defenders scrambled to mount their anti-dragon weapons.
TWANG! WHOOSH!
The first bolt flew toward her, its trajectory true. The iron-tipped projectile struck her flank with considerable force.
CRACK!
The bolt shattered against her scales like glass against stone, fragments tumbling away into the air below. A second bolt followed, then a third, each one meeting the same fate—breaking apart on contact with scales that had been forged in the crucible of ten thousand years of combat.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
When the last bolt had fallen uselessly away, Angelus released a roar that seemed to shake the very foundations of the city.
GROOOOOOAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRR!
Windows shattered. Birds fled in panicked clouds. The screaming in the streets reached a new pitch of terror. And then, cutting through the chaos like a blade through silk, came her voice.
"<
She paused, letting the words sink in.
"<
Another pause.
"<>"
---
The Red Keep
---
Angelus descended toward the Red Keep, her golden eyes studying the fortress with critical assessment.
"<
"<
"<>"
"<
"<
She landed in the main courtyard with a impact that cracked the paving stones, her massive form filling the space and leaving no room for the knights and guards who had assembled to defend their king. Most of them had already fled; those who remained stood frozen, their weapons raised in hands that trembled visibly.
Daenerys dismounted, her white scales catching the afternoon light as she dropped from Angelus's back to the ground. She moved with casual confidence towards the knights. Knowing they can barely harm her.
Three knights charged her.
"HALT, MONSTER! IN THE NAME OF THE—"
WHOOOOSH!
Daenerys raised one hand, and the knights flew backward as if struck by an invisible force. They crashed into a stone wall with enough impact to stun but not kill, their armor clanging against the masonry as they slumped to the ground.
"Telekinesis," she said conversationally, stepping over their groaning forms. "One of the many useful abilities that come with being bonded to a dragon. Now, shall we proceed?"
Angelus shifted into her Dragonborn form—the transition smooth and practiced, her massive draconic shape condensing into a six-foot-plus figure that was unmistakably dragon rather than human. Her snout opened to reveal rows of sharp teeth as she surveyed the throne room. The effect on the remaining guards was almost comical; they had steeled themselves to face a building-sized monster, and now confronted something that looked like a dragon who had simply decided to walk on two legs.
"Lead the way," Angelus said, her voice now spoken rather than projected. "I believe we have an audience waiting."
---
The Iron Throne
---
The throne room was exactly as the histories described: a cavernous hall with pillars supporting a ceiling lost in shadow, and at the far end, the ugly metal chair that had supposedly been the reason for centuries of bloodshed.
The Small Council had assembled—presumably having received enough warning to gather despite the chaos outside. Tywin Lannister stood near the base of the throne, his face a mask of controlled fury. Cersei stood beside him, her beauty marred by an expression that mixed fear with hatred. Varys occupied his usual position, his face unreadable. Tyrion stood apart from the others, his expression one of grim vindication.
On the throne itself sat Joffrey Baratheon—though Angelus knew that name to be a lie. The boy-king's face was pale, his hands gripping the armrests of his ugly chair with white-knuckled intensity. Whatever cruelty he possessed, whatever petty tyranny he had inflicted on his subjects, it had clearly not prepared him for a confrontation with something that could eat him in a single bite.
The Kingsguard flanked the throne in their white cloaks—seven knights sworn to die for their king. Among them, Angelus spotted a golden-haired figure whose face triggered recognition from her absorbed knowledge of this world's history.
"<
Daenerys's expression didn't change, but Angelus felt her amusement through their connection. "<
They walked the length of the hall in silence, their footsteps echoing in a space that had grown deathly quiet. When they reached the base of the throne, they stopped.
"Daenerys Targaryen," Tywin said, "You have a great deal of nerve coming here."
"I have a great deal more than nerve, Lord Tywin. I have an army that has conquered three cities in less than two years, a navy being constructed in Qarth's harbors, and—as you may have noticed—a dragon who finds your skepticism personally offensive."
Tywin's eyes flicked to Angelus, assessing the Dragonborn form with the calculating gaze of a strategist evaluating a threat. "So the reports were true. Dragons have returned."
"I am not a normal dragon," Angelus said, her voice carrying a chill that made several of the Kingsguard shift uncomfortably. "I am something older and far more dangerous. But yes—if you wish to simplify matters for your limited comprehension, dragons have returned. And we are not impressed by your little kingdom."
"You dare—" Joffrey began, his voice cracking.
"Silence." The word wasn't shouted, but it carried a weight that made the boy-king's jaw snap shut involuntarily. Angelus's golden eyes fixed on him with contempt that needed no enhancement. "The adults are speaking monkey. Sit there and be grateful we haven't decided to test whether that ugly chair protects you from dragonfire."
The silence that followed was profound.
"We're not here for your throne," Daenerys said, stepping forward. "I know that's what you're all wondering—whether the Targaryen girl has come to reclaim her family's seat. The answer is no. I have no interest in ruling a continent of squabbling kingdoms that can barely agree on anything long enough to accomplish basic governance."
She gestured at the Iron Throne with undisguised disdain. "Look at it. A chair made from the swords of the defeated, designed to be so uncomfortable that no king could ever relax upon it. What kind of symbol is that? 'Behold, the seat of power—may it cut you if you sit wrong.' The Targaryens who built this thing had no sense of practical design."
"It was meant to ensure that kings remained vigilant," Cersei said, her voice tight with controlled anger.
"It ensured that kings were uncomfortable and irritable, which explains a great deal about your family's recent history." Daenerys's smile held no warmth. "No, keep your iron chair and your fractured kingdoms. We have built something better in Essos—a realm where the strong serve willingly because they're offered power rather than slavery, where enemies become allies through transformation rather than coercion, where dragons rule openly instead of pretending that humans are in charge."
"Then why are you here?" Tywin asked, his voice carefully neutral.
"To deliver a message," Angelus replied. "You sent assassins after my partner. Four Faceless Men, paid from your treasury. They failed and they died, but the insult remained." Her eyes swept the room, lingering on each member of the Small Council in turn. "This is your warning: do not try again. Do not send spies, assassins, or agents of any kind against us. Do not fund our enemies or attempt to undermine our expansion. Leave us alone, and we will leave you alone."
She took a step forward, and every Kingsguard knight tensed.
"But if you come after us again—if I learn that another plot has been hatched in this room or any other—I will return. And I will not be content with a demonstration. I will burn King's Landing to ash. Every building, every person, every memory of this city will be erased from the world." Her voice dropped to something almost intimate. "I have lived for ten thousand years and watched civilizations rise and fall. The destruction of one more human city means nothing to me. Do not test whether I am bluffing, because I promise you—I am not."
The threat hung in the air like smoke.
"We understand," Tyrion said quietly, speaking for the first time. His mismatched eyes met Angelus's with something that might have been respect. "The message is received."
"Good." Angelus turned to Daenerys. "I believe we're finished here."
"Almost." Daenerys's gaze swept the room one final time. "One last thing. I know what your family really is, Lord Tywin. I know who fathered that boy on the throne, and it wasn't Robert Baratheon. I know about the lies that built this little kingdom of yours." She smiled at the shock that flashed across Cersei's face, the careful control that Jaime struggled to maintain. "I won't tell anyone—it's not my secret to share, and frankly, I don't care enough about your politics to interfere. But I wanted you to know that I know. Consider it a reminder that we see more than you realize."
She turned her back on the Iron Throne and walked toward the exit, Angelus falling into step beside her.
"You can't just—" Joffrey began, rising from his throne.
"We just did," Angelus said without turning around. "Goodbye, little king. Try not to cut yourself on your chair."
---
The Departure
---
They walked out of the throne room unmolested—no one was foolish enough to try stopping them after what they'd witnessed. In the courtyard, Angelus resumed her true form, the transformation drawing gasps from the guards who had recovered enough consciousness to observe it.
Daenerys mounted with practiced ease, settling into position as Angelus's wings spread to their full, building-spanning extent.
"<
With a single powerful stroke of her wings, she launched into the sky, leaving King's Landing to contemplate what had just occurred.
---
The Aftermath
---
The throne room remained silent for a long moment after the dragon and her rider departed.
Tyrion was the first to speak.
"Well," he said, his voice carrying the satisfaction of someone who had been proven right. "I believe I mentioned that the reports of dragons might be worth taking seriously. Several times, in fact. But what do I know? I'm just the dwarf who actually reads the intelligence reports."
"This is not the time for—" Tywin began.
"Oh, I think it's exactly the time." Tyrion's eyes met his father's with unusual defiance. "We had warnings. We had reports from multiple sources describing exactly what we just witnessed. And we chose to dismiss them because accepting the truth was too inconvenient. That's not strategic thinking, Father—that's willful blindness."
Varys stepped forward, his soft voice somehow carrying in the vast chamber. "The dwarf speaks truly, Lord Tywin. I have been attempting to convey the severity of this threat for months. My sources in Essos—limited though they have become—have consistently reported capabilities that we chose to interpret as exaggeration. We were wrong."
Joffrey still stood before his throne, his face the color of old parchment. The boy who had ordered men executed on whims, who had tormented his betrothed and terrorized servants, now looked like what he truly was: a frightened child who had just realized that there were monsters in the world that his crown couldn't protect him from.
"She... she threatened to burn the city," he said, his voice unsteady. "She can't... we won't let her..."
"She can," Tyrion said flatly. "And she will, if we give her reason. Did you see those scorpion bolts shatter against her scales? Our defenses might as well be children's toys against something like that. The only thing protecting this city right now is her apparent disinterest in ruling it."
Cersei's face had gone through several shades of pale during the conversation, but it was the final revelation that seemed to have struck her hardest. "She knew," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "About... she knew."
"She knows many things," Varys observed carefully. "The question is what she intends to do with that knowledge. At the moment, it appears she intends to do nothing—but that could change."
Tywin stood in silence, his face a mask that revealed nothing of the calculations occurring behind it. When he finally spoke, his voice was controlled but lacked its usual absolute certainty.
"We will not provoke them further. The assassination attempts cease immediately—recall any agents currently in Essos and cancel any pending operations. We focus on consolidating our position in Westeros and let them exhaust themselves in the east."
"And if they don't exhaust themselves?" Tyrion asked. "If they continue expanding until they control everything from Qarth to Volantis? What then?"
"Then we deal with that situation when it arises. For now, we have more immediate concerns—the Starks, the Tyrells, the various claimants to the throne who think they can take what's ours." Tywin's voice hardened. "Let the dragon queen play at empire across the sea. Westeros is ours to hold."
The council meeting dispersed slowly, its members carrying the weight of what they had witnessed. As Tyrion made his way out, Varys fell into step beside him.
"You realize," the Spider said quietly, "that nothing we do now will change what's coming. She's building something in Essos that will eventually turn its attention westward, whether she intends it or not."
"I know," Tyrion replied. "But my father would rather pretend otherwise than admit that a threat exists which he cannot control. It's his greatest weakness—the inability to accept that some enemies are simply beyond his capacity to manage."
"And you?"
Tyrion glanced back at the throne room, where his nephew still stood in pale-faced shock.
"I'm going to find a very large quantity of wine and try to forget that I just saw a dragon dismiss our entire military capability as irrelevant. After that, I suppose I'll start planning for the day when that dragon decides Westeros is worth her attention after all."
---
The Return
---
The flight back to Essos was considerably more relaxed than the journey there.
"That was satisfying," Daenerys admitted, the wind whipping past them as they crossed the Narrow Sea. "The look on Cersei's face when I mentioned her secret... I'll treasure that memory."
"<>" Angelus's mental voice carried dark amusement. "<>"
"Do you think they'll actually stop? The assassination attempts, the interference?"
"<
"And if they do try something?"
"<
"I know." Daenerys's mental voice carried acceptance rather than concern. "I've... changed, I think. A year ago, the idea of burning innocents would have horrified me. Now I understand that our people—the Wyrmborne—are what matter. Everyone else is simply... outside the circle."
"<
"Is that what I've become? A ruler?"
"<
---
Vaes Drakarys
---
The Crimson Council assembled within hours of their return, the members having been alerted by Mikhail's eager announcement that Mother and the Khaleesi had returned from their mysterious journey.
"You terrorized King's Landing," Drogo said, his deep voice carrying undisguised approval. "I wish I could have seen it."
"<
"What was their response?" Jorah asked, his expression carefully neutral—he was, after all, still nominally a subject of the Iron Throne, even if his loyalty had long since shifted.
"Fear, mostly. Tywin Lannister tried to maintain his composure, but even he couldn't hide his concern entirely. The boy-king nearly soiled himself. The queen looked like she'd seen her own death approaching." Daenerys's smile held no sympathy. "We made it clear that we have no interest in their throne, but that any further interference will be met with absolute destruction."
"Will they comply?"
"<
"Then we continue as planned," Jhogo said. "Meereen next?"
"Meereen next," Daenerys confirmed. "But we take our time, consolidate our gains, let our converts develop their abilities. We're not in a race—we're building something that will last for generations. A few more months of preparation won't matter in the long run."
The council continued into the evening, discussing logistics and strategy and the thousand details that made the difference between a successful empire and a failed conquest. But beneath the practical matters, a new confidence had taken root—the knowledge that their enemies in Westeros now understood exactly what they faced.
The Wyrmborne were not coming for the Iron Throne.
They were building something better.
---
End of Chapter Thirteen