Chapter 99: Realization in the Sky
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The sun blazed overhead, casting shimmering patterns across Viserion's golden scales as we soared through the endless blue expanse. Clouds passed by us, lightening the day's toll on us.
Far below, Slaver's Bay stretched like a dark sapphire, its waters hiding the horrors that had given the region its name.
I held Daenerys firmly against my chest, one arm wrapped around her waist, the other gripping Viserion's spine ridges. Her silver-gold hair whipped across my face occasionally, carrying a scent that dragged me back to our childhood—before the madness.
Before the fall.
She hadn't spoken a word since we left the Dothraki Sea. Her body remained tense against mine, though her arms had relaxed their death grip around my neck.
Pride wounded, spirit broken—the mighty Khaleesi, the vaunted Mother of Dragons, reduced to being rescued by the only brother she'd once discarded. I felt her shallow breathing, the slight tremor that ran through her whenever Viserion banked sharply. Her broken arm lay awkwardly between us, a reminder of my own cruelty.
I should have felt triumphant. Vindicated. Yet, strangely, victory was a mix. I did feel those two things I just mentioned, but it wasn't a 100% pleasant feeling.
How things change, I mused, watching a flock of birds scatter at our approach. From a pathetic, silver-haired beggar to the Dragon King who commanded the skies. Once, I'd dreamed of nothing more than selling my sister for an army, scraping together enough power to take back what was stolen from us.
My ambitions had been laughably small—a hundred thousand dumb barbaric screamers to conquer Seven Kingdoms.
Now, with the System's power flowing through my veins and Viserion at my command, those early dreams seemed like a child's fantasy.
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Viserys Targaryen
The Dragon King
23 Years Old
Level 50
58 STR
60 END
57 DEX
62 INT
58 LUC
180 AUTH
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I observed the Status Screen. Level 50 now, and with a newDraconic Trait after the Wings I received 25 levels ago. I was more than a mere human now. A lot more.
I'd become something more—something stronger, deadlier, more cunning than I'd ever imagined possible. I'd secured alliances with Houses Tyrell and Stark. I'd subjugated the Iron Islands. I'd defeated Stannis Baratheon and claimed King's Landing. I'd executed the false king Joffrey before his mother's eyes.
I ruled the Seven Kingdoms as its sole monarch.
And yet...
Something had been missing. Something I'd been reluctant to acknowledge.
Her.
My little sister, the last of my blood, the final piece of our shattered family. She was the only person in this world who remembered our mother's lullabies or could share stories of our childhood home—even if those memories were mere fragments for her.
Sentiment, I scoffed inwardly. Weak. Foolish. Beneath me. But the truth remained. The reason I'd flown across the sea to come see her. Ruling without Daenerys at my side had felt incomplete. Not because I needed her power or her counsel, but because she was a Targaryen. The Targaryen other than me. Jon Snow didn't count, he was a bastard. And he wasn't my sibling.
Dany and I were the last dragons, and dragons belonged together.
Viserion banked slightly, adjusting her course with the shifting winds. The world tilted beneath us—endless grasslands giving way to rolling hills, then more arid terrain as we neared the coastline again. Clouds drifted below us like islands in a sea of blue, casting scattered shadows on the land.
I glanced down at Daenerys. Her eyes were half-closed, exhaustion evident in every line of her body. Her lips were cracked from dehydration, her skin flushed from the sun. She needed water, food, medical attention—all things I could provide once we reached civilization.
But first...
"Viserion," I commanded, my voice carrying easily over the rush of wind, "change course. To Yunkai."
I felt Daenerys stiffen against me. Her eyes snapped fully open, looking up at me with confusion and alarm.
"Yunkai?" she finally broke her silence, voice hoarse from disuse. "Why? Meereen is where we need to go. My people are fighting there, dying—"
"Your people?" I cut her off with a harsh laugh. "The same people who were ready to skewer your dragon and watch you burn? The same city that spawned the Sons of the Harpy?"
Viserion responded to my command, banking sharply eastward. The coastline appeared on the horizon, a thin line separating blue from brown.
"They're still my responsibility," Daenerys insisted, though with less conviction than before. "I abandoned them once already. I can't—"
"Can't what?" I challenged. "Can't make the right strategic decision? Can't put aside your pride long enough to listen to someone who knows better?"
Her eyes flashed with momentary defiance—a glimpse of the dragon still alive within her. Good. I hadn't come all this way to rescue a broken shell.
"Look, Dany," I continued, my tone softening slightly. "I've already stabilized Meereen as much as possible, your presence there isn't going to change anything. So just sit back for this, alright? We'll go to Yunkai and have a chat with the Great Masters. They are the real power behind the Sons of the Harpy."
Her eyes narrowed, but I recognized the calculation behind them. My sister was many things, but stupid wasn't one of them. She understood strategy, even if her execution had been lacking.
"The Wise Masters," she murmured. "I had my doubts, but…"
"The same," I confirmed. "They fund your enemies, arm them, direct them. And they sit untouched in their gilded pyramids, believing themselves beyond your reach."
Below us, the landscape changed again. Green gave way to yellows and browns as we approached the coastline. Ships appeared as tiny specks on the water's surface, merchants and slavers plying their ancient trade routes, oblivious to the dragon passing overhead.
"What do you intend to do?" Daenerys asked, her voice stronger now, curiosity overcoming her earlier meekness.
I smiled, feeling the familiar warmth of power suffusing my veins. "What dragons do best, sister. Burn them all."
As the words left my mouth, Viserion rumbled her approval, the vibration passing through her massive frame and into our bodies.
For a moment, something of our childhood returned as our eyes locked. As we sank into the feeling that we were riding a dragon—a real dragon, flying across the sky. The way she'd once looked at me before I'd become bitter and cruel, before I'd sold her to Drogo. Before she'd grown into her own power and left me behind.
It wasn't like those innocent days—too much had happened, too many wounds inflicted—but it was a step toward something I hadn't realized I'd been missing.
She nodded slowly, her head resting against my shoulder once more. Not in defeat this time, but in something approaching understanding. If not trust, then at least acceptance.
"The last time I was in Yunkai," she said quietly, "I freed the slaves and left. I thought... I thought it would last."
"I don't want to ridicule you, but freedom isn't as easy as you thought it was. Freedom must be enforced, sister," I replied, watching the coastal cities begin to take shape in the distance. "And enforcement requires power." I tightened my grip on her waist slightly. "Power the Dragon King now possesses."
Her expression remained unreadable, but she didn't pull away. Instead, her uninjured hand came to rest lightly on mine—not quite an embrace, but not rejection either.
The sky stretched endlessly around us, a canvas of deepening blue as afternoon wore toward evening. The air grew cooler at this height, though Viserion's natural heat kept us warm. Below, the world seemed small and insignificant—cities reduced to toy models, people to specks, problems to simple puzzles easily solved with fire and blood.
Up here, with the last of my blood in my arms and a dragon beneath me, I understood the Targaryen words as never before.
We weren't meant to crawl among the lesser beings, to beg or plead or negotiate. We were meant to rule from on high, to shape the world as we saw fit.
Yunkai appeared on the horizon, its yellow walls catching the sunlight like a beacon. Within those walls, the Wise Masters plotted, secure in their belief that distance protected them from Daenerys's wrath. They had no idea what was coming.
"For what it's worth," I said, my voice lower than before, "I wish things had been different between us."
Daenerys turned her face toward mine, surprise evident in her violet eyes. She searched my expression, looking for mockery perhaps, or deception. Finding none, she nodded slightly.
"So do I."
It wasn't forgiveness. It wasn't even reconciliation. But it was acknowledgment—of our shared blood, our shared loss, our shared destiny. For now, that was enough.
As Viserion accelerated toward Yunkai, flames already licking at the edges of her massive jaws, I leaned forward, my lips nearly touching Daenerys's ear.
"Let them see what happens when they wake the dragon—dragons," I corrected myself, feeling her shiver against me. "Not just one, but two."
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