[124] Limitations and Strategies

Chapter 124: Limitations and Strategies

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The sky had begun to darken with the approaching evening, as shadows spread across the conquered fortress. I stepped out onto the battlements of Casterly Rock, letting the fresh air clear my head after the encounter with Cersei.

Before me, Tyrell soldiers moved confidently through courtyards where Lannister banners had been torn down, replaced with the three-headed dragon. The smell of dragonfire, a sharp, distinctive scent like lightning and sulphur combined, was still around.

It was becoming a familiar aroma. Like the scent of victory.

Daenerys waited for me, leaning against a merlon with casual grace. Her tail swished lazily behind her, and her violet eyes glinted with mischief as they caught mine. The scales along her cheekbones caught the dying sunlight, shimmering like mother-of-pearl.

"You lasted longer with me," she remarked, arching an eyebrow. "What happened in there?"

I sighed at her inappropriate humor. "Nothing happened, sister. And nothing will happen with Cersei Lannister. I have no interest in used goods, especially ones that have been shared between brothers." I lied.

"Just threatening her, then?" Daenerys asked, her tail curling inquisitively.

"Yes, and it worked. The mighty Cersei Lannister, brought to her knees with mere words." I gazed out across the Westerlands, the rolling hills and distant sea bathed in golden twilight. "We're flying to Dorne next."

"Dorne?" Daenerys straightened up. "Why? Missing your desert princess already?"

I ignored her comment, turning to a nearby guard. "Find Lady Margaery and Ser Garlan. I want them here immediately."

As the guard hurried off, I took a moment to survey the conquered fortress. Casterly Rock, the legendary seat of House Lannister, now mine. This stone served as tangible evidence of the enduring power, substantial wealth, and considerable might that had supported the Lannister lineage across countless generations.

Wealth I need. Gold mines that reportedly ran dry years ago, but surely they had stockpiles somewhere.

Tywin Lannister had fled, and for a man of money, he must have taken some of his wealth with him. However, a man could only carry so much in so little time, so there must be more. Enough for my kingdom’s debt to be cleared, hopefully.

Tyrell banners now fluttered from every tower, shining emerald green and gold against the darkening sky. The soldiers moved with the confident stride of victors, no longer fearing Lannister retaliation.

The vibe here had changed, appropriately so. The very atmosphere of the Rock had transformed from the proud abode of lions to the spoils of the dragon.

Margaery and Garlan arrived promptly, both still wearing armor stained with the day's battle. Even so, Margaery somehow managed to look immaculate, her brown curls framing her face perfectly, her bodice hugging curves that caught the eye of every soldier she passed.

"Your Grace," she curtseyed, her honey-brown eyes alert and inquisitive. "You summoned us?"

"I did. I'm departing for Dorne immediately," I announced. "I plan to retrieve Myrcella Lannister and install her as the nominal ruler of Casterly Rock."

Garlan's eyebrows rose in surprise. "The Lannister girl? She's barely more than a child."

"She's eighteen, and she's been living in Dorne for years now," I corrected. "Initially, the idea was to make Cersei Lannister fill the role, but she’s an old, bitter woman who’s too prideful for her own good. Myrcella’s my opportunity. Through her, I can legitimately control the Lannister wealth while maintaining the appearance of honoring their bloodline."

Margaery's eyes sparkled with understanding. "...That makes sense. A brilliant strategy, my king. The smallfolk will see it as mercy, the lords as practicality. None will wish to rebel against a young, innocent girl who bears the Lannister name."

I nodded. "Precisely. Though… I make no promises about her long-term rule. If a loyal Lannister vassal house proves more beneficial to my interests, I won't hesitate to elevate them instead. I’m quite done with the Lannisters causing trouble."

"House Tyrell will support whatever decision serves the realm best," Margaery replied smoothly, her lips curving into a practiced smile that didn't quite touch her eyes. I could practically see the calculations running behind that lovely facade, how this arrangement might benefit her house, secure her position, or potentially threaten it.

The Rose of Highgarden, always looking for the path with the most sunlight.

Garlan was more direct. "What about security, Your Grace? With Lord Tywin and Ser Jaime unaccounted for, they might attempt to retake the Rock if they believe their blood still rules here."

"A valid concern, hmm," I acknowledged. "That's why we must maintain a strong Tyrell garrison here. We, as in you. Train the remaining Lannister soldiers who've sworn fealty, but keep your most trusted men in key positions."

"And the Lannister gold? What happens to that once you bring Myrcella here?" Margaery asked delicately.

I smiled. "Will mostly go to the crown, and a small but valuable portion to House Tyrell for your invaluable service, and the last bit remains here to maintain the fortress and pay the soldiers. Naturally, I’d have granted my wife’s house, who helped with this siege, half the gold too, but… I assume you’d understand the debt the crown owes."

Garlan frowned, but when Margaery shot him a look, he quickly fixed his expression. If Mace Tyrell were here, he’d have opposed the decision, he’d have asked for more, but these two younglings didn’t have the courage to. Especially Margaery, who wanted to make me believe that she now saw the crown as her family more than her birth one.

The wealth of the Lannisters was legendary; even a ‘portion’ of it would fill Highgarden's coffers abundantly. After all, they weren’t a struggling house.

"You honor us, Your Grace," she said, lowering her eyes demurely.

"Honor has nothing to do with it. You've proven your loyalty and effectiveness. I reward those who serve me well." I turned to Garlan. "I'll return within days. Until then, you have command of the Rock."

"I understand, Your Grace," Garlan replied with a bow.

I looked at Daenerys, who had been observing our conversation with silent interest. "Shall we, sister?"

She nodded, pushing away from the wall with fluid grace. Her movements had changed since her transformation—more predatory, more confident, as if her human skin had been a constricting garment she'd finally shed.

We’ll need to figure out a way to make her switch her forms, if it’s possible at all. I planned as my head spun around in search. Rhaegal and Drogon circled above, their massive shadows sweeping across the courtyards. Servants and soldiers alike paused to watch, awe evident in their upturned faces.

A hundred years without dragons, and now three in the skies of Westeros. The world shifted beneath their wings, and people would never get used to their presence ever.

"I'll return soon," I told Margaery, who stood watching us with a smile. "Continue the inventory of Lannister assets. I want a complete accounting when I return."

"Of course, my king," she replied, stepping forward to press a quick kiss to my cheek. Her scent, roses and something darker, more intoxicating, lingered even as she stepped back. "Safe journey."

I nodded, then walked to the edge of the battlements where Rhaegal hovered, his green wings creating powerful gusts that whipped my hair around my face. With practiced ease, I leapt onto his back, settling between the massive spines.

Daenerys had already mounted Drogon, looking like some ancient goddess of war astride her black beast. Her silver-gold hair streamed behind her, and her horns caught the last rays of sunlight as we took flight.

Power isn't in what you conquer, but in what you keep.

The thought echoed in my mind as Casterly Rock shrank beneath us, its ancient towers and battlements reduced to a child's toy castle from our height.

And yet, I felt an odd dissatisfaction in my heart.

****

The wind howled past us as Rhaegal and Drogon soared southward, their massive wings cutting through the night air. The stars emerged above, constellations unfamiliar to my Earth memories but now as known to me as my own face after years in this world.

"You're quiet," Daenerys called from Drogon's back, her voice somehow carrying over the rushing wind.

"Thinking," I replied, guiding Rhaegal closer so we could speak more easily.

"About?"

I hesitated, then decided honesty might serve me well. "About limitations."

Daenerys looked surprised. "Limitations? You've conquered half of Westeros in months. You have dragons, powers beyond imagining, and a growing empire. What limitations trouble you?"

"Tywin Lannister escaped," I said simply.

"And we'll find him," she responded with easy confidence.

I shook my head. "That's just it. Will we? Westeros is vast. This world even more. He has gold, connections, and decades of accumulated favors. He could be anywhere. Across the Narrow Sea, hiding in the Free Cities, or holed up in some remote keep belonging to a secret ally."

"You have your dragons, your magical power—"

"Which are formidable, yes," I agreed. "But not omnipotent. Even if I had a hundred dragons, they can't be everywhere at once. The… dragon magic enhances me, but it doesn't give me the ability to see through every shadow in the realm."

And it wasn’t as if I was unkillable. If an opponent could escape from me, he could kill me in my sleep as well.

My level-ups had slowed down as well. I’d killed about a dozen men earlier, and only gained 1 level. I was Level 51 now.

The realization had grown in me since discovering Tywin's absence at Casterly Rock. I expected it, but that didn’t solve the issue. For all my power, some enemies couldn't simply be overpowered or outfought. Some battles couldn't be won with dragonfire.

"Look at our current threats," I continued. "Tywin and Jaime Lannister, hiding gods know where. Euron Greyjoy, who might be anywhere on the seas with powers we don't fully understand. Petyr Baelish, scheming in the shadows. The Iron Bank, to whom the crown still owes millions. And beyond the Wall, the White Walkers gather, a threat no amount of political maneuvering will solve."

Daenerys flew in silence for a moment, her transformed features thoughtful in the moonlight. "So what's your point? That we're doomed? Because an old man lives?"

I laughed despite myself. "No. My point is that I need more than just brute force. I need different kinds of power—intelligence networks like what Ros is building, economic control through alliances and strategic marriages, preparations for the White Walkers that involve the entire realm."

"You sound like you're complaining about having too much power," Daenerys observed with a tilt of her head.

"I'm acknowledging its limitations," I corrected. "The Yi Ti Empire and the Faceless Men, for example—they're beyond my immediate reach, despite my abilities. And they could pose real threats if provoked."

"Well, I wouldn't have expected such humility from my brother," Daenerys teased.

"Not humility. Strategy," I replied. "Understanding one's limitations is the first step to overcoming them. Everything is going well for now, but I have to prepare for when it wouldn’t."

“You’re wiser than I thought you were,” she said, “even the new image of you.”

I scoffed out a laugh. After that, we flew in comfortable silence, the warm currents rising from the land below carrying us southward with impressive speed. Below, the terrain gradually changed—fertile riverlands gave way to the more arid regions that marked the approach to Dorne.

Dawn was breaking as we crossed into Dornish territory, the sky turning from black to deep purple to vibrant orange. The Red Mountains rose before us, their peaks catching the first golden rays of sunlight.

"Seeing Dorne from above is always a treat," Daenerys remarked, her eyes scanning the landscape with evident appreciation. "It's beautiful in its harshness."

"Like its people," I agreed, thinking of Arianne's fierce pride and iron will beneath her sensuous exterior.

Sunspear appeared on the horizon, its towers gleaming in the morning light. As we approached, a familiar golden shape rose to meet us—Viserion, her scales almost blinding in the sun's rays.

“You’re back?” she asked in a bored tone as she circled us playfully, releasing a celebratory burst of flame that turned the clouds around us to gold.

We descended toward the palace courtyard, where a small welcoming party had gathered. I spotted Arianne immediately, her dark hair flowing loose around her shoulders, her curved body adorned in a sheer Dornish gown that left little to the imagination.

Rhaegal landed with a heavy thud, his claws scraping against stone. Before I could fully dismount, Arianne rushed forward, her silver eyes bright with excitement.

"You couldn't wait to see me again?" she asked, wrapping her arms around my waist as I jumped down. Her body pressed against mine, warm and inviting, her curves molding perfectly to my form. The scent of exotic spices and citrus filled my nostrils.

I laughed, returning her embrace briefly before stepping back to look at her. "I missed you, Princess," I admitted. "But I'm afraid I'm here for a different princess this time."

Her eyebrow arched questioningly, a hint of confusion flashing in her silver eyes.

"Myrcella Baratheon," I explained. "The time has come to put her to use."

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