[63] Toward the Throne, Back Home

Chapter 63: Toward the Throne, Back Home

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『In Essos』

After attending that scary meeting where the Thirteen were betrayed and killed by Pyat Pree and Xaro Xhoan Daxos, Dany stood outside the House of the Undying.

She eyed the ancient stones that seemed to throb with a weird, unsettling energy.

The twisted spire reached up like some gnarled finger, beckoning her in. Her heart hammered in her chest as she stepped through the entrance, knowing her children were hidden away somewhere inside.

The corridors bent and shifted all around her, tossing out any idea of logic. It was mind boggling.

One second she was moving forward, the next she found herself going sideways or even upward through impossible hallways. Pyat Pree’s magic had twisted the place into a maze of illusions.

Strange visions hit her senses hard—she saw the Iron Throne buried under a layer of snow, standing alone in a wrecked throne room.

The Red Keep lay in ruins, its grand walls turned to rubble.

Then… she spotted Drogo, her sun and stars, holding their son Rhaego. The sight made her heart clench as she walked to them. They pulled at her. Her heart told her to sit down with them. But… she reminded herself they were just images meant to chain her here.

Her dragons’ cries led her deeper into the warlock’s lair. She found them chained and helpless, their wings pinned tight.

Pyat Pree stepped from the shadows, his blue lips twisted in a mean grin, bragging about how their presence fueled his magic. He figured he had won, thought he could keep her and the dragons trapped forever.

But he hadn’t counted on a mother’s bond with her children.

One word from her, “Dracarys!” and her dragons spewed fire, roasting the warlock right where he stood. His screams echoed through those warped halls as Daenerys shattered the chains holding her babies.

She'd won, and her two children were back to her embrace.

Later on the same day, Daenerys faced the other end of this whole plot. A betrayal.

Xaro Xhoan Daxos, the man who had sworn his love and given her a place in Qarth, had actually been plotting against her with one of her own handmaidens. They had stolen her babies together!

His fancy vault, which he’d bragged was stuffed full of treasure, turned out to be just as empty as his words. She locked them both inside it, letting them taste the fate they’d planned for her.

With whatever wealth they scraped up in Qarth, Daenerys led her khalasar out of the city.

The wind stung her face as they traveled, carrying the smell of salt from the endless seas. Even though her people started getting restless, she stayed focused on the road ahead. Each day, her dragons grew stronger, their wings stretching wider, their cries echoing further across the water. Whenever she watched them fly, she thought of Drogo—not with that raw stab of sorrow anymore, but with the softer understanding that his strength lived on through her.

Daenerys’ life hadn't been easy lately, but she didn't stop winning.

****

The sun beat down hard as Dany made her way through Astapor’s streets, her silver hair shining under the brutal light.

“What a sight amid this horror,” she said. The city’s red brick walls seemed to lock in all the heat, turning the air thick and hard to breathe.

Sweat slid down her neck, but she kept her head high, aware of every gaze that followed her.

Jorah walked beside her, his hand always near his sword. The place reeked of fear and misery, with slaves’ cries mixing with their masters’ shouts.

Everywhere she looked, there were some new horror. Poor kids in chains, old men staggering under heavy loads, women with empty stares.

“The Unsullied are in the barracks up ahead,” Jorah said quietly.

“I know, Ser. We visited it yesterday, I'm not a child to forget the path this fast,” she said, and See Jorah rubbed the back of his head.

The unsullied. She was interested in them. Eight thousand men ready to be bought.

Dany’s stomach twisted at what these men must’ve gone through. She’d heard the stories—boys ripped from their mothers, turned into killers through torture and starvation until obedience was all they knew.

Kraznys mo Nakloz waited at the training grounds, dragging his ornate outfit across the dusty ground. Beside him stood his translator, a young girl with huge golden eyes standing quietly at his side.

“The Westerosi whore returns,” Kraznys sneered at Valyrian, his voice dripping with contempt. The translator froze at his insults, but Daenerys caught every filthy word. She knew that language better than him. “Maybe she’s finally figured out she can’t play at war with just her tits out.”

Dany kept her face blank as the translator cleared her throat and turned his insults into polite Common Tongue. A nice girl, that one.

She decided to take that girl with her before leaving. Speaking of leaving… it'd have to wait. Her plans needed a bit more time to unfold. Her babies had to grow a bit more.

….

Two days later, Dany walked along the seawall, the salty breeze barely cutting through the heat.

Having Jorah nearby felt reassuring as they chatted while walking, though she knew better than to rely too much on one person’s loyalty.

A child’s voice called out behind them, “Your Grace! Your Grace!”

Daenerys turned to see a small girl running toward her, clutching a fancy wooden ball.

The girl’s smile seemed harmless enough, but something about it raised Daenerys’s hair. She didn't think too much about it, deciding to shake it off.

The child rolled the ball toward her, and Dany crouched to grab it. She watched the girl motion her to twist the ball.

It seems like a gift? Dany wondered as she twisted the ball.

Before she could see what was inside, however, a blur caught her eye. A stranger clad in dark clothes, his white-hair barely visible, knocked the ball from the child’s hands, his sword flashing in the sunlight.

“Ah!” Dany fell to the floor because of the suddenness of the situation, and the wooden sphere split open on impact.

A scorpion-tailed creature jumped out, its stinger glinting.

On seven hells! It leaped toward her, and Dany’s eyes slammed shut in fear. When she reopened them, she found an old warrior’s blade cutting the manticore clean in two.

“Stop!” He didn’t stop there, rushing after the girl—the assassin—who jumped into the water.

But no water splashed.

The warrior rushed to find her missing, and his head snapped to the side. Dany’s eyes followed. High above, the girl stood, staring down. When Dany’s eyes met hers, she screeched, revealing blue teeth.

“The Warlocks…” Dany muttered as the girl vanished into the crowd before anyone could react.

"Khaleesi!" Jorah yelled, whipping out his sword and putting himself between her and the stranger. "Stand back!"

The warrior looked at them and slowly removed the hood, revealing his old face. Jorah froze before slowly stepping in front of her, his eyes wide.

“Do you…” Dany started, “Do you know him?”

“Yes,” he said, “I know him. One of the greatest fighters the Seven Kingdoms have ever seen, Ser Barristan Selmy.”

The old man took a knee, resting his sword at her feet. His lined face lifted, revealing eyes filled with wisdom and regret. Daenerys studied him carefully, noting the proud set of his shoulders despite his age and how he held himself like a man who had spent his life serving kings.

"Your Grace," he said, his voice carrying the weight of a lifetime. "I'm the retired Lord Commander to Robert Baratheon's Kingsguard. And before that, I served your father and promised to protect your family. So I offer you my sword to serve the rightful heir of the Seven Kingdoms."

His weathered hands trembled slightly as they rested on the pommel of his blade, but his gaze remained steady and unwavering as he met her eyes, waiting for her judgment.

Like that, Dany earned an immensely powerful ally.

****

『Back in Westeros…』

For some reason, I wondered what my sister was up to lately when Viserion’s claws slammed into the ground with a heavy thud.

The impact rattled my legs, and it made me realize how drained I was from this long flight.

We’d landed in a small clearing maybe an hour’s ride from King’s Landing. Night clung to everything like a thick blanket, stars peeking through little gaps in the clouds.

Night was good because it meant many people, if any, saw Viserion.

The capital’s lights glowed faintly in the distance, kind of an orange smear against the dark sky.

I slid off Viserion’s back, boots crunching on grass that had a thin layer of frost. The chill bit at my cheeks, but I barely noticed. After flying through clouds, regular old cold felt like nothing.

I snapped a finger and formed a gate to [House of Dragons], a dark crack in the world.

“Girl, time to disappear,” I said, nodding toward the space next to us. “No need for you to be spotted near the city.”

Viserion turned her big head, gold scales still catching the faint moonlight. “Why… hide?” she growled, that usual defiant tone mixed with a dash of curiosity.

“Because we have to be smart,” I replied, reaching up to pat her snout. “Stannis is going to attack soon—maybe a month at best. I’ve already sent word to Dorne and the Reach long ago, telling them to get their armies moving.” I gave a small grin, remembering the letters. “They’ll take a while to get this far north, but once they do…”

“Boring,” Viserion grumbled, her warm breath washing over me. She leaned in so close her snout almost bumped my nose. “Want… fight… now!!”

I couldn’t help but laugh at her impatience.

Her attempt at being scary was kind of cute, like a cat hissing at its owner. “You’ll get your fight soon enough. And once we’ve got the throne, you’ll fly wherever you please, hunt whatever you want. So just listen to me and go inside?”

She made a huffing sound, a curl of smoke drifting from her nostrils, but I could see her thinking it over.

With a final, slightly grumpy growl that was more whine than threat, Viserion stepped through, her big form vanishing into the darkness before the portal snapped shut.

The night was quiet after Viserion left. I found a small cave far from the place I landed on and made camp, deciding to take a rest.

A quick check of my Inventory produced dried meat, bread, and a skin of wine, simple fare, but enough to keep my strength up.

I sat near the entrance, watching the stars wheel overhead while picking at my meal. The wine wasn't great, just something I'd grabbed from Pyke's cellars, but it helped wash down the tough meat.

My thoughts drifted to the capital, wondering what changes I'd find. News traveled slowly in this world, but not slow enough. I'd been gone for weeks dealing with the Ironborn, so much might have happened.

Sleep came easily enough on my bedroll, though I kept one hand near my weapon out of habit. The sounds of night creatures and rustling leaves made for decent company.

Dawn broke grey and cool. I packed up quickly, checking my appearance in a small mirror from my inventory. The silver-white of my Targaryen hair was hidden under a dark wig, and common clothes replaced my usual attire. Just another traveler on the road.

The walk to King's Landing took several hours. My boots kicked up dust from the Kingsroad as the sun climbed higher, burning off the morning mist.

Other travelers passed now and then, merchants with loaded carts, farmers bringing goods to market, the occasional patrol of gold cloaks.

No one gave me a second glance. Just how I wanted it.

The capital's walls rose before me, as imposing as ever. The guards at the gate barely looked up from their game of dice as I passed through with a group of merchants. No questions asked, no suspicions raised.

I allowed myself a small smile. All that worrying about returning had been for nothing.

The city felt the same as when I'd left it. Crowded, stinking, alive with its usual chaos.

That sense of relief lasted until I reached my mansion in the better part of town. Two Kingsguard stood at attention outside the door, their white cloaks pristine in the midday sun.

I stopped dead in my tracks, mind racing through possibilities. “....”

“Hm?” One of them turned, catching sight of me. "…Sellsword, what great timing," he called out, and I recognized that voice to be Meryn Trant. "We've been waiting for you."

My hand itched to reach for a weapon, but I kept it still. What the fuck happened? This could go very wrong, very quickly.

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