[87] How Do I Meet the Mother of Dragons?

Chapter 87: How Do I Meet the Mother of Dragons?

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"What do you think about the position of Lord Commander of the Kingsguard?"

The throne room fell silent. You could've heard a drop of water hit the stone floor.

Brienne's eyes were wide, her mouth opening slightly. It was easy to read the shock on her face—the woman lacked the guile most courtiers possessed. She looked like I'd just offered her the entire kingdom rather than a white cloak.

Across the room, Catelyn Stark's composure shattered. The cool, collected Northern lady visibly flinched, her head snapping toward me so fast I thought she might strain her neck. She gripped Robb's arm in what appeared to be a painful hold.

Robb himself looked torn between respect and wariness. His brow furrowed as he studied me, likely wondering what game I was playing by offering such a prestigious position to someone who had just failed in their duty.

"Your Grace..." Brienne finally found her voice. She squared her massive shoulders, lifting her chin. "I am honored beyond words. But I cannot accept. Firstly, I am unworthy… Secondly, I swore an oath to Lady Catelyn. I serve her."

Predictable. Honor was so goddamn inconvenient sometimes. "Lady Brienne," I replied, leaning forward. "You are not unworthy, unless you insult me by doubting my judgement of worthiness. And your devotion to your oaths is precisely why I offer this position. The Kingsguard needs someone who understands what duty truly means. As for you serving my mother-in-law…"

I turned my gaze deliberately toward Catelyn Stark, silently inviting her to speak up. Catelyn was a smart woman. She’d pounce on this opportunity if I hadn’t judged her wrong.

She hesitated for a moment but then strode forward, her steps echoing across the stone floor. "Lady Brienne," Catelyn said clearly and firmly. I’m grateful to have your duty. Despite my unnatural requests, you have served me faithfully, and I am forever grateful. But I would release you from your oath to me if it means you’ll become Lord Commander."

Brienne blinked in surprise. "My lady?"

"My daughter Sansa will be Queen," Catelyn continued, her eyes flickering briefly to mine. "I would appreciate nothing more than knowing she has someone as loyal and honorable as you to protect her. You would still be keeping your oath to me by protecting my blood. Will you not accept?"

I watched this performance with interest. Catelyn was as clever as I'd given her credit for. She saw the opportunity—having her own sworn sword as Lord Commander would give her daughter an added layer of protection. A loyal shield in a court of vipers.

I didn’t mind that.

Brienne of Tarth was indeed a loyal knight. Well, not quite a knight yet, but she will be tomorrow when I grant her knighthood and officially announce her position. She was incredibly strong too, and I’d love someone like her as my sword. That is, if she accepts.

Brienne looked between us, her conflict evident. Her hand gripped her sword hilt as if seeking reassurance from the familiar weight of steel.

"...If that is what you wish, Lady Stark," she said finally. Then she turned to me, still on her knee as she lowered her head. "Your Grace, since Lady Catelyn releases me from my oath, I would be honored to accept your offer. I’m incredibly grateful that you… see my strength, despite my failure. So I will serve you, the crown, and Lady Sansa with my life."

I smiled. Sansa was lacking against Margaery recently, but with the support of the Lord Commander, her position will gain more favor. "Excellent," I said, satisfaction warming my voice. "Rise, Brienne of Tarth, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Although the official announcement, along with your knighthood, is tomorrow, so it’s wrong to call you that now. Freshen up, and rest well."

She stood, remarkably straight-backed for someone who had endured so much travel. The woman was a true warrior. Catelyn's eyes met mine for a brief moment. In them, I saw a mixture of gratitude and caution. She knew this arrangement benefited us both.

I'd gained a loyal, honorable commander.

And she'd gained a protector for her daughter.

The Game of Thrones was growing more interesting.

****

On the other side of the world, a few days after Brienne’s ascension in Westeros, Daenerys was in Meereen as she studied the diminutive man before her with guarded curiosity.

“Rise,” she said, watching the dwarf and eunuch stand from their knees. Despite his travel-worn appearance and the dirt still clinging to his clothes, there was something undeniably formidable about Tyrion Lannister.

How could such a short man bear such a presence? His mismatched eyes held a keen intelligence that seemed to assess everything in the tent—from the fake dragon skulls mounted on stands to the Unsullied guards flanking the entrance.

She’d have loved to show off her real dragons, but… Rhaegal wasn’t here with her, and Drogon was nowhere to be found.

Outside of that, everything had been moving smoothly.

The conquest of Meereen had brought her this pavilion, along with the entire city. After freeing Yunkai, somehow she’d already conquered Meereen before she knew it thanks to the help of the Golden Company. With 18,000 men at her command, it wasn’t a surprise.

Her current abode, a titanic stone pyramid, once belonged to a Great Master. It had been repurposed for the Mother of Dragons now. Maps of Slaver's Bay lay scattered across the table between them, weighed down by small figurines representing her growing forces.

"So," she adjusted her position in the high-backed chair, the wood smooth beneath her fingers. "The Imp of Casterly Rock seeks an audience with the Dragon Queen. Why’re you silent?" Her voice remained level, betraying nothing of her thoughts. "You've traveled far, Lord Tyrion. And you, Lord Varys. Speak up."

"Indeed, Your Grace," Tyrion replied with a slight bow. "Though I assure you, the journey was not entirely by choice. I’m just unsure how to bring this up."

“Neither am I a Lord, Your Grace,” Varys commented, his hands resting in his sleeves.

Behind her, Ser Jorah shifted his weight, his armor creaking softly. She could sense his disapproval without looking. Ser Barristan remained stoic on her other side, his aged hand resting casually on his sword hilt. Neither of them liked the two guests.

"And yet here you stand," Daenerys continued, "in the tent of the daughter of the king you helped overthrow. Sister of the king who made you flee."

To her left, Lord Varys cleared his throat. "If I may, Your Grace. Lord Tyrion's role in Robert's Rebellion was nonexistent. He was but a child when your father fell. As for your brother Viserys… none of us saw it coming. How he’d gain such powers and everything around him."

Daenerys turned her gaze to the bald man. His perfumed scent slowly flew through the Meereenese heat, somehow remaining fresh despite their journey.

"What do they call you again, Lord Varys?" she asked, "The Spider… The Master of Whisperers who served the Usurper. How did you not see my brother coming?" She leaned forward slightly. "All this is too suspicious. So tell me why I shouldn't have you both executed where you stand."

"Because I despise my father and sister as much as you do," Tyrion answered before Varys could speak. "And because I know things about Westeros your current advisors cannot tell you."

Ser Barristan stepped forward, chuckling at that. "Forgive me for interrupting, Your Grace, but I’ve lived this dwarf’s three lifetimes. I fail to see what he can tell you that I can’t. The Lannisters cannot be trusted. They orchestrated the deaths of your family members."

"Yet here you stand in my service, Ser Barristan," she replied without looking away from Tyrion. "After years of serving the Usurper."

The old knight accepted the rebuke with quiet dignity.

"I have sworn my sword to you, Khaleesi," Ser Jorah interjected. "These men are dangerous. Particularly this... spymaster." Varys just smiled in response.

Daenerys raised her hand for silence. "I want to hear what Lord Tyrion proposes."

Tyrion glanced at Varys before addressing her directly. "Your Grace, the Seven Kingdoms are in chaos. Your brother sits on the Iron Throne, but his position is precarious. The Lannisters have retreated to Casterly Rock, and many houses remain uncommitted." He paused. "I offer you knowledge, strategy, and a perspective from the very heart of Westerosi politics."

"And in return?" Daenerys asked, one eyebrow arched.

"A position as your advisor," he replied. "And wine. Preferably not the Meereenese swill they serve in the city. And… there’s someone I wish to save back in the Red Keep."

Despite herself, Daenerys felt the corner of her mouth twitch. She composed her features quickly. "You have a peculiar manner for someone begging a favor."

"I'm not begging," Tyrion said. "I'm offering a fair exchange. My mind for your protection. While Ser Barristan is right about his experience, he’s a Knight first and foremost. He also wasn’t allowed in the small council for the last twenty or so years. Without meaning offence, he doesn’t know how the realm operates nowadays. I do, for I’ve served as the Hand of the King for the last year or so."

Daenerys' gaze shifted to Varys. "And you? What do you offer besides honeyed words and betrayal?"

"Information, Your Grace," Varys replied, his hands folded within his sleeves. "My little birds sing in every corner of the world. I know your brother's weaknesses, his allies, and his plans. After all… it was me who sent Young Griff to you."

That made Dany’s eyes tremble.

It was him…? How? That boy hadn’t told her anything about this. However, he couldn’t be lying here; it could be confirmed any time, so it’d be stupid to risk such a lie.

"...That aside. Do you know how big broth- Viserys attained his dragon egg?" she asked sharply. It bothered her for a moment that she’d called him by his familial title out of habit, though. That imbecile was no brother of hers.

Varys shook his head. "I’m aware he stole an egg from you, but I don’t know how he awakened it… Perhaps it awakened on its own when your two did? It could be the case since the three eggs had been together for centuries. He named his dragon Viserion, that I know of. Which is quite narcissistic, but it suits him I suppose.”

"It does. And yes, he did steal one of my eggs," Daenerys said coldly, remembering the night Viserys had held a sword to her belly, threatening her unborn child as he fled with the golden egg. The memory still burned. "Before they hatched."

Ser Jorah stepped forward. "Khaleesi, I counsel caution. I feel like we’re talking about important things with them before judging what to do with their heads. These men arrive too conveniently after your recent victories."

Ser Barristan nodded in agreement. "The Lannister may have value, Your Grace, but I would advise against giving him too much information too quickly."

Daenerys drummed her fingers against the armrest, considering.

She didn’t find her current advisors’ words that worrying. If they posed any danger, she could just kill them. It mattered more that they had important news. Drogon and Rhaegal had grown tremendously, apparently Viserys's golden dragon was bigger? She didn’t know since the reports couldn’t specify how big this golden dragon was.

However, Varys probably knew since he was the Master Spy of Westeros. She had to know if her brother’s single dragon would be dangerous for her babies. The thought of facing her brother and his dragon sent a mixture of rage and determination through her veins.

A Dance of Dragons.

She had been unwilling to think of it before, but she’d recreate it if necessary. If it meant she’d get to kill that imbecile.

"I’ve made my decision, Sers," she decided, turning to Tyrion. "Lord Tyrion, I will allow you to advise me—but on a trial basis. Prove your worth, and you may earn a permanent position." She fixed him with a steely gaze. "Betray me, and your death will make your father's infamous cruelties seem merciful by comparison."

Relief washed over Tyrion's face. "A fair arrangement, Your Grace. I look forward to demonstrating my considerable talents."

"And what of me, Your Grace?" Varys inquired softly.

Daenerys regarded him coolly. "You may remain as well, though under guard. If your claim about sending that boy to me is true, it means you’ve already done me a great benefit. Your... little birds, as you call them, will now sing for me."

Varys bowed deeply. "They already do, Your Grace."

“Good,” she said. She sighed, feeling a little complicated, although she felt victorious in growing her army. Before she could say anything else, a guard appeared at the tent entrance and bowed. “Your Grace, Young Griff is here for your tea invitation."

At this, Daenerys felt a genuine smile form. "Let him in."

As the guard departed, she caught Tyrion's puzzled expression. The Lannister clearly hadn't expected this development.

Daenerys felt a surge of satisfaction. With Aegon by her side—her nephew, the true son of Rhaegar—she would have a stronger claim than Viserys could ever muster. Together, they would take back what was stolen from House Targaryen.

Her brother might have one dragon, but she had two. One dragon rider couldn’t win against two, could it? Plus, her nephew's loyalty and the growing army of Unsullied. Soon, she would show Viserys what it truly meant to wake the dragon.

That smirk on her face lasted until a loud, unfamiliar roar screeched through the sky.

A Draconic Roar spread through the city as the night sky brightened unnaturally.

****

A Few Minutes Earlier…

The cool air whipped around me as Viserion descended toward Meereen's highest tower.

The night sky enveloped us, stars scattered across the canvas like dragon's eggs on black sand. Below, torches dotted the foreign city—hundreds of tiny flames that would soon be overwhelmed by a much greater fire.

I tightened my grip on Viserion's scales, my thighs pressed against her massive neck as she slowed our descent with steady wing beats. The city sprawled beneath us like a poorly constructed anthill, begging to be kicked over. Somewhere in that maze of sandstone and narrow streets, my dear sister played at being a queen.

Viserion landed with surprising grace for a creature her size, her claws gripping the ancient stone of the deserted tower.

I dismounted carefully, my boots finding purchase on the weathered surface. The desert breeze carried strange spices and the distant smell of the sea—so different from King's Landing's stench.

"Perfect landing, girl," I murmured, patting her golden scales. They gleamed like molten gold even in the dim moonlight. My beautiful beast had grown tremendously since our first meeting, her wingspan now casting shadows across half the tower.

“This place…” she said slowly. “I smell… family…”

I didn’t smell the same, so Dany’s dragons were probably not here. The smell was from when they were. They couldn’t be too far away, though. “Good,” I said, “If you pick a fight, make sure to win. Although don’t kill any of them, alright? They’re your siblings.”

She turned her massive head toward me, those intelligent eyes watching me expectantly. I ran my hand along her jaw, feeling the heat radiating from within. “Siblings… shouldn’t be… killed?” she asked, tilting her head.

Since she was asking questions like that, I hoped she’d abide by my words.

“Yes. Otherwise… you’ll be all alone in this world. I mean, you have me, you have my blood in your body, but I’m your Father, they’re your brothers. Or sisters. I don’t know how dragons work,” I said. “Anyways, family is important. Blood is important. Don’t waste it by killing them. And… worst case scenario, don’t die if it’s them about to kill you. Call for me, and I’ll come to you.”

She scoffed, “I don’t need your help… weak human.”

I chuckled. "Fly high, girl. Circle the city," I instructed softly. "Make them see you clearly, but don't attack anyone unless provoked. I want their fear, not their deaths—at least not yet."

“Grrgh,” Viserion growled softly, the sound vibrating through my chest like distant thunder. She understood more than most humans would suspect.

With a powerful beat of her wings that nearly knocked me off my feet, she launched herself upward, spiraling into the night sky.

The sight was magnificent. Her golden scales caught the moonlight and reflected it back tenfold, casting an eerie glow upon the city. The display had its intended effect almost immediately—startled cries erupted from the streets below, followed by shouts of alarm.

I smiled, watching her climb higher until she was circling just below the clouds, perfectly visible to every terrified soul in Meereen.

This should shake my sister's precious confidence, I thought, leaning against a crumbling merlon to enjoy the spectacle. An unknown dragon appearing in her supposedly secure city. She’ll know how easy it is for me to come here, kill her, and flee.

I'd heard rumors about the oh-so-glorious Mother of Dragons—how she'd freed slaves and built an army from nothing. Touching, really. She was playing ruler in the dirt while I sat on the Iron Throne in Westeros.

But I was no fool. Dany had two dragons, and though my Viserion was formidable, numbers mattered. I needed to understand her position before making any grand gestures.

The commotion below grew louder. Guards shouted orders to stay safe and keep the people safe. Civilians fled from the streets, taking shelter in their homes. Viserion's silhouette against the moon was having precisely the effect I'd hoped for.

They can't even tell this isn't one of their queen's beasts, I mused, allowing myself a chuckle. That's the thing about dragons—one looks much like another to the untrained eye. Just a monster from the sky. I’m sure my sister can tell, though.

“Time to move,” I pulled the hood of my black cloak over my head, tucking away the black-wig I was wearing. The tower's ancient stairwell awaited—a tight spiral of worn steps leading down into the heart of the city.

Overhead, Viserion let out a roar that shook the very foundations of the buildings around me. She used that [Skill] that made her body go all bright, as the night sky turned like midday sun.

The sound sent a fresh wave of panic through the crowd. I smiled, enjoying my dragon’s performance as I blended into the crowd.

Now, how do I meet the ‘Mother of Dragons’?

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