Chapter 102: Paths Forged in Fire
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Morning light filtered through the pyramid's high windows, casting long golden beams across the polished floor. I stood facing my sister and her advisors, my hands clasped behind my back as I surveyed them all. The night had passed quickly, and I was eager to settle matters before returning west.
"Now that we've established the broader strokes of our arrangement, let's address immediate concerns," I said, my voice echoing in the chamber. "Meereen and the surrounding territories need stable governance structure, immediately."
Grey Worm remained stoic but attentive, while Ser Jorah couldn't quite hide his suspicion behind that weathered face of his. Tyrion, the calculating imp, leaned forward from his seat.
"If I may, Your Grace," Tyrion interjected, swirling his wine thoughtfully. "The people need reassurance. The chaos of recent days has left them terrified – they've seen dragons battling in the sky, their queen vanishing, and then you arriving with devastating power." He set his cup down. "A public appearance is necessary – immediately. The citizens must see Queen Daenerys alive and well, with you standing beside her as an ally, not a conqueror."
I nodded slowly. The dwarf's political instincts were sharp. "A valid point. I disagree with me standing beside her, though. Not physically anyway. She can just announce that I'm an ally."
Ser Barristan cleared his throat. "The security situation remains fragile, Your Grace. The foot soldiers of the Golden Company have all left. We couldn't do anything to stop them since that'd risk a battle that we couldn't afford."
"Fair point," I said.
He continued, "That aside, with your permission, I suggest organizing Unsullied patrols throughout the city, particularly in areas where Sons of the Harpy sympathizers might hide. We could establish checkpoints at key intersections to monitor movement and root out any remaining resistance."
"The Sons will scatter like cockroaches now their masters are ash," I replied. "But your caution is warranted. Proceed with the patrols."
Missandei stepped forward, her eyes meeting mine directly – brave woman, given what she'd seen of my power. "Your Grace, the survivors of Yunkai and Astapor will be terrified, leaderless. We should dispatch envoys immediately with promises of mercy and rebuilding efforts. If we don't reach out soon, chaos will spread beyond Meereen's walls."
Her insight impressed me. The fear my actions had created could serve multiple purposes if properly channeled.
I paced slowly, considering each suggestion. "Very well. Lord Tyrion, draft a speech for my sister to deliver this afternoon. Keep it simple – assure the citizens that Meereen stands strong, that the threat from rival cities has been neutralized, and that those who murdered innocents have paid the price."
Tyrion nodded, already composing phrases in his head, I could tell.
"Ser Barristan, organize your patrols but ensure they're mixed – Unsullied accompanied by local volunteers where possible. The people must see themselves as participants in their own security, not merely subjects under occupation."
The old knight bowed. "As you command."
"Missandei, select trusted representatives – those who understand both slave and master cultures. Send them to collect survivors from Yunkai and Astapor. Make clear that while the old power structures are gone forever, those who accept my sister's authority will find shelter and opportunity."
They all nodded with new purpose, the uncertainty of recent days giving way to clear direction. Even Ser Jorah's perpetual scowl softened marginally.
"One more thing," I added, watching them pause. "This is assuming Dany wants to stay. Publicly she is the independent ruler of Slaver's Bay. I might change that later once I take care of Young Griff, but for now, this is her city, her rule. I am merely an ally, ensuring its security."
The subtle shift in their expressions told me everything. They were alright with it.
With tasks assigned, I turned to Daenerys, who had remained silent throughout our planning. Her violet eyes watched me carefully, me who was giving a King's decree in her throne room.
"All of this will ease considerably if the people see you staying here, sister," I said, my voice softer now. "I'm planning to keep Lord Tyrion and others here anyway to keep the rule, even if you decide to come to King's Landing with me. However, your presence would be the key factor to ensure lasting peace." I stepped closer, my eyes locked with hers. "What do you say? Have you decided yet?"
Would she choose to come with me, or remain here?
The chamber fell silent. Even Tyrion stopped fidgeting with his cup. The question hung between us like a blade, suspended by the thinnest thread.
Daenerys straightened, and I noticed she'd regained some of her regal bearing despite her injuries. "I… have," she replied, her voice clear and steady. "I will remain in Meereen."
A flicker of relief crossed her advisors' faces – except Tyrion's. The dwarf had already calculated this outcome, evidently.
I wasn't surprised either. Considering my speech so far, it was assuming she'd stay. It'd go against what I knew of her character if she decided to come with me.
"These cities need stability," my sister continued. "The people I've freed need protection. And frankly, brother..." She paused, measuring her words carefully. "Your methods, while effective, would undermine everything I've built here."
"I see."
"Yes. I will be Queen in Essos, under your authority as you've offered, but with my own approach to rule. Is that fine?" She asked.
I allowed a small smile to touch my lips. "Yes. It's a wise choice," I said simply.
Privately, I felt satisfaction settle in my chest. This was precisely what I'd anticipated – what I'd preferred.
My sister would maintain this Eastern foothold, extending Targaryen influence across the Narrow Sea without requiring my constant attention. Her presence here served me far better than dragging her back to Westeros would have.
"We'll formalize our arrangement before I depart," I added. "A treaty between siblings, between continents."
Tyrion opened his mouth to speak, likely to suggest terms favorable to Daenerys, but that was pointless.
When I said formalize, I didn't mean a written contract. Dany was my blood, my property after she submitted to me, so it was simply a vocal yes or no record.
Tyrion couldn't speak because the room suddenly trembled with a sound that shook the very stones beneath our feet.
A dragon's roar. Then another, deeper and more powerful.
We all froze, eyes darting to the balcony. The sound came again – two distinct calls echoing across the city.
"Viserion," I said, already moving toward the balcony.
"And… Drogon," Daenerys whispered, hope surging in her voice as she followed me, her advisors close behind.
We rushed outside, the morning breeze whipping at our clothes as we gazed upward. There, circling the great pyramid, two massive shapes cut through the clouds – one golden as the sunrise, the other black as midnight.
Viserion spotted me immediately, banking sharply toward our balcony with Drogon following more cautiously. My dragon's joy radiated through our bond as she approached.
"I found him… human!!" She announced. "Black dragon was… injured… hiding in the mountains. I healed… him with my fire," Viserion's thoughts reached me, pride evident in each word.
She can do that? I realized only a moment later that she had a version of the ability I gained at Level 50. [Regeneration]. I had felt it the second I clicked the option—that pulse in my bones, the fire under my scales, not just flickering now but raging.
This body… now it could just fix itself.
Blades that used to stab deep? Give me a minute, and I'll shake them off like water. Arrows? A joke. Even the worst cuts… they knit back together. Seal shut. Disappear.
It took time, sure—but very short.
My wounds healed faster than average even before this, thanks to my high END, but now, a lethal wound that meant lying around for days, hurting, could be healed in no time. The best part?
It slowed down my aging. I didn't know by what rate, but I was another step ahead of mortality.
I didn't get a system page explaining all this, but once I accepted the skill, the information bloomed in my head.
I watched as Daenerys stepped forward, tears welling in her eyes as she beheld her lost child. "My child," Dany muttered. Drogon circled warily, still cautious of Viserion, but his eyes focused intently on Daenerys.
"Drogon," she called, her voice breaking with emotion.
The black dragon rumbled in response, not approaching but clearly recognizing his mother. One wing showed signs of healing – confirmation of Viserion's claim about finding him injured.
I glanced sideways at my sister, studying the naked relief on her face. Her fingers stretched outward, trembling slightly as if she could touch her dragon across the distance.
"It seems our family reunion grows more complete by the hour," I said quietly.
Daenerys turned to me, genuine gratitude in her expression. It was a look I hadn't seen directed at me in years – perhaps not since we were children.
"Thank you," she whispered.
I simply nodded, a subtle smile playing at my lips as the dragons circled overhead, gold and black against the brightening sky.
****
Hours later, the wind whipped Daenerys's silver hair across her face as she stepped onto the sun-drenched summit of the Great Pyramid. Her arm throbbed dully beneath its fresh bandages, a persistent reminder of her brother's strength and fury.
Yet here he stood, calm now, his back to her as he patted Viserion's back.
She paused, taking in the sight of them—brother and dragon bathed in golden morning light. So similar in coloring, in temperament, in the danger they presented.
How swiftly things had changed.
A fortnight ago, she'd been the conqueror, the liberator, the unburnt. Now she stood in her brother's shadow, watching him prepare to leave her with what remained of her former glory.
"Brother," she called softly.
Viserys turned, his violet eyes—so like her own—reflecting the sunlight. He'd changed since those desperate days when he'd sold her to Khal Drogo, he truly had. Power had transformed him, refined the ragged edges of his character into something both more terrible and more magnificent.
"I thought you might not come to say farewell," he said, his voice lighter than she expected.
Daenerys stepped closer, sensing Viserion's watchful gaze upon her. "I wanted to tell you again, face to face, that I'll remain in Meereen." She squared her shoulders, finding strength in the certainty of her decision. "This is where I belong. Don't get me wrong, but I barely saw the Iron Throne, I was an infant. So while I'm aware that it's my home, I don't feel the attraction to return."
"Is that so?" He asked idly.
"Yes. These people here… they need me, and I need space. I don't want to fight for your affection with other women…" She met his eyes directly. "It's better this way, for both of us."
Viserys studied her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he nodded. "I don't blame you for this choice, if you're worried. You didn't have to come explain yourself like this. Westeros would have swallowed you whole. Here, you can build something lasting. Something yours." A half-smile touched his lips. "Though I expect regular reports on your progress. And for you to realize, what belongs to you, belongs to me too. Because you are mine."
"..." she stayed quiet, a little unsure at what she felt by his words. What was she supposed to feel?
"I'll visit soon in a few weeks," he added, adjusting his golden gauntlets. "Westeros has its challenges, but Viserion makes the journey manageable. And I'll want to see how my eastern holdings prosper under your care."
As she watched him stare at her, Daenerys felt her throat tighten unexpectedly. For all his cruelty, for all the pain between them, he was still her blood—the last true connection to the family she'd never known.
"...Yes. The pyramid is the home of the Dragon King now," she said, attempting lightness.
He chuckled and stepped toward her. Before she could react, he leaned down and gently pressed his lips against her forehead. The gesture was so unexpected, so reminiscent of the brother who had once protected her, that Daenerys felt tears threatening to form.
"Be strong, Dany," he murmured against her skin. "Rule wisely. And I'll come back soon. With or without Rhaegal."
Then he withdrew, leaving a phantom warmth where his lips had touched.
Daenerys blinked rapidly, refusing to let the stupid tears fall. She would not show weakness, not even now.
"Hah… Safe journey, brother," she managed, stepping back as Viserys mounted Viserion with practiced ease.
The golden dragon stretched her massive wings, sending gusts of wind across the pyramid's summit. Daenerys watched as rider and mount rose gracefully into the air, circling once around the pyramid before banking westward, toward the distant shores of their ancestral home.
Toward the deserts of Dorne.
The breeze caressed her cheeks as Daenerys turned to face her city—her responsibility. Far below, the streets of Meereen pulsed with life, the citizens going about their day, unaware of the private drama that had unfolded above them. From this height, the problems that had seemed insurmountable appeared manageable, each challenge merely a puzzle to be solved by a queen who had survived fire, betrayal, and now, reunion.
Drogon's distant roar echoed across the sky, a reminder that she wasn't entirely without family.
She still had one child who had returned to her. One connection to the magic that had changed her life forever.
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