Grazdan Qartlor, now over eighty years old, is the Green Priestess of Meereen.
In the original timeline, Grazdan was Daenerys's advisor—an elder who guided her growth and a very close friend.
Daenerys was almost completely misled by her, following her advice to fully assimilate into Ghiscari slave culture, even going so far as to marry a slave master.
But this version of Daenerys was meeting Grazdan for the first time.
She was an old woman with snow-white hair and deeply wrinkled skin, with large, dark age spots visible on her exposed flesh. Yet time had not dulled the brilliance in her eyes.
Her eyes were a captivating shade of green, filled with wisdom and a deep understanding of human nature.
She still carried herself with the dignity of a Green Priestess, wearing a long green robe and a green veil over her face. Leaning on a cane, she entered flanked by two White Priestesses, as if a halo of wisdom and nobility surrounded her.
"Your Majesty, greetings."
Her voice was gentle and kind, like a warm spring breeze.
Faced with those clear, bright green eyes, Daenerys felt a momentary urge to look away, as though the wise priestess could see straight into the darkest corners of her soul.
No—I've done nothing wrong.
My goal is noble and grand. Compared to other warlords and emperors, my methods are gentler and more compassionate.
Comforting herself with this thought, her violet eyes met the priestess's emerald ones without flinching.
Righteousness met with profound wisdom.
With a smile, Daenerys said, "Give her a seat."
An Unsullied soldier immediately brought over a high-backed chair padded with fur for the Green Priestess.
There was a flicker of realization—and sorrow—in those captivating green eyes.
The priestess withdrew her gaze and said, "Thank you, Your Majesty."
"Lady Green Priestess, Earl Breaker-of-Chains has accused you of participating in the formation of the Sons of the Harpy."
At this moment, the Dragon Queen's voice carried no added authority; it was calm and composed, like chatting with an elder about mundane matters.
"Yes. I joined with others who shared my ideals to create the organization known as the Sons of the Harpy," the Green Priestess nodded.
"What?"
"She… admitted it?!"
The audience erupted in shock. No one had expected the supposed "big boss" to fold so easily upon entering.
"Lady Grazdan, do you understand what you're saying?"
From the jury bench, Grazda—the Green Priestess of Astapor—exclaimed in disbelief.
"Lady Grazdan, this is the High Court. No one can force you to speak. With the Queen present, no one would dare use torture against you," cried another Ghiscari juror, clearly shaken.
"Please believe us, Lady Green Priestess. We will strictly adhere to the Codex," said a Freefolk juror solemnly.
"Lady Green Priestess, if you are unfamiliar with the public trial procedures, you may appoint a defender—or multiple defenders familiar with the Codex. That is your noble right," Bruce Wayne suggested.
Commander Bruce of the Queen's Guard was a knight and a lord, serving on the jury as a representative of the nobility.
Bang! The Dragon Queen struck the gavel again. "Silence!"
"Mighty~~~ and~~~ glorious~~~!" the Unsullied echoed as they beat their staves.
The hall fell completely silent.
—Sigh, some ancient traditions really do have their uses.
Bang! Daenerys struck the gavel once more, enjoying the involuntary shudder from the crowd below. A small sense of satisfaction rose in her heart.
"Lady Green Priestess, be very sure of your words. This is a public courtroom. In front of me and all the jurors, anything you say cannot be taken back and may become evidence used to convict you."
"I am fully aware. Earl Breaker-of-Chains arrested the right person. I am the leader of the Sons of the Harpy—'The Harpy' herself," the Green Priestess said calmly.
Off to the side, Cleon couldn't help but ask, "Back in Meereen, I used the most brutal form of water torture on you, and you swore up and down you were innocent. Why admit it now, just like that?"
—How am I, the Butcher Earl, supposed to save face?!
"Water torture?" a hushed gasp rippled through the audience.
"Why are the people of Slaver's Bay so straightforward? They really say whatever's on their minds," Tyrion remarked dryly.
Daenerys shot a glare at the loose-lipped butcher and declared, "Earl Cleon has admitted to using unauthorized torture on a religious leader. He is hereby found guilty of the thirteenth charge.
Fine: 5,000. Public whipping: 20 lashes in Liberty Square. Imprisonment: six months. All penalties shall be cumulative and carried out together."
"I—" Cleon was dumbfounded.
Bang! The gavel slammed again as Daenerys rebuked, "Anything said in this court may serve as evidence for conviction. Do you object?"
"I do not. I plead guilty!" the Meereenese judge lamented.
"Lady Green Priestess, why did you establish the Sons of the Harpy, this terrorist organization?" Daenerys asked.
"Terrorist organization?" the Green Priestess chuckled, then nodded. "Yes. We didn't dare confront the Dragon Queen head-on, but we couldn't bear to lose the final shred of pride as children of the Harpy. Assassination and terror were our only means of resisting your rule."
"You think terror campaigns in Meereen could threaten my rule?" Daenerys asked, somewhat amused.
A trace of sorrow flickered in the Green Priestess's eyes. She shook her head. "We thought they could. But reality proved otherwise.
Your household registration system is nearly flawless. It made it almost impossible for us to cause trouble in secret.
Even without the assassination of Commander Jon Bolton or the actions of Earl Breaker-of-Chains, the moment we began to act—so long as the ruler of Meereen wasn't a fool—you would have uncovered the Sons of the Harpy sooner or later."
"Tell me, what are your complaints about me and about the current state of Slaver's Bay?" Dany asked.
The Green Grace glanced at the countless eyes around them, as numerous as the stars, and hesitated. "Here, in front of everyone?"
"I believe I have acted with integrity and honor. There is nothing I've done that I am ashamed to speak of," Dany said, her voice ringing with conviction.
The Green Grace stared at the Dragon Queen for a long, long time before sighing. "Very well. You are so confident and proud—and have the strength to uphold that pride. For the Ghiscari people to fall at your hands is not entirely unjust."
"Ah—" At those words, the five Ghiscari jurors and many Ghiscari freedmen in the crowd all changed expression and gasped in shock.
Dany's eyes were sharp as blades. She said calmly, "I did not commit genocide against the Ghiscari."
The sadness in the Green Grace's green eyes deepened. In a sorrowful tone, she said, "A people are not defined by bodies alone.
When their spiritual backbone is broken, when their culture and religion are erased, the nation itself ceases to exist."
"You transformed the Temple of Graces into a Sept of the Seven, forcing my people to abandon the harpy and worship the Maiden Made of Light.
You shut down the fighting pits that symbolized the Ghiscari warrior tradition and instead introduced theatrical troupes that incited hatred between the new freedmen and the Ghiscari.
You never wear the traditional tokar robes and instead promote sleeveless dockworker tunics.
You altered our dietary traditions—we who love dog meat and persimmons were forced to accept odd foods like chopped pepper fish heads, blood sausage, tofu, fried dough sticks, and meat buns.
You replaced the ancient Ghiscari Valyrian with standardized High Valyrian as the official language.
You even forced Ghiscari people to shave their heads and said, 'Better to lose your head than your hair.'"
Dany's eyes widened in disbelief.
Better to lose your head than your hair?
When had she ever said something so outrageous?
She wanted to interrupt the old priestess immediately and ask, but the other woman was caught in the momentum of her tirade.
She couldn't stop—rushing through her litany of accusations, she condemned the Dragon Queen for destroying Ghiscari civilization.
"You exclude highborn Ghiscari in political and military affairs, favoring slaves who rose overnight and now rule over their former masters. In your kingdom, the Ghiscari are marginalized politically, economically, and militarily.
You forced our noble families out of their ancestral pyramids, homes that have stood for millennia, and made them live in ordinary brick houses like commoners.
You showed no mercy to the Ghiscari nobility. The innocent—those who only sought to study and teach—were stripped of their property, and their families exiled to labor camps.
What you have done is systematically erase every trace of Ghiscari presence from Slaver's Bay.
Our culture, our traditions, our faith, our spirit—wiped out, one by one.
If we do not resist, the day will come when the Ghiscari are fully assimilated with slaves from every corner of the world. Our bloodlines diluted, our civilization altered, our land taken.
And the last remnants of the Ghiscari Empire will vanish completely."
The Green Grace had spoken at great length, and many Ghiscari in the crowd were visibly moved, looking at her with conflicted expressions.
Even the five Ghiscari jurors couldn't hold back their tears.
"Her Majesty the Queen is ruthless. If the old woman is telling the truth, she really does intend to erase the Ghiscari people," Tyrion said in alarm.
"Green Grace, in your view, what would I need to do to be a 'qualified' queen of Slaver's Bay?"
Without waiting for the old priestess to respond, she answered herself, "Should I wear the tokar, learn the dialects of Slaver's Bay?
Should I live like the great Ghiscari nobles, reopen the fighting pits, maybe even buy one for myself and raise a team of gladiators like I'm raising horses?
Would it be best if I found someone you consider of 'noble Ghiscari blood' and married them, fully immersing myself in the old ways?"
A glimmer of wisdom flickered in the old priestess's eyes as she sighed. "Would that be so wrong? If you were willing to integrate with the Ghiscari culture of Slaver's Bay, the other Free Cities would no longer see you as such a threat.
With a highborn Ghiscari prince consort as mediator, New Ghis would no longer wage war on Slaver's Bay.
Your ancestor Aegon and his sisters abandoned Valyrian religion and tradition and embraced the Faith of the Seven to fully assimilate into Andal culture, didn't they?
And the noble houses of Valyria's Fourteen Flames—after the Doom—scattered into Slaver's Bay, Qarth, Qohor, Norvos, and other coastal cities.
They brought advanced technologies and culture, and they too adapted to their new homes—marrying local nobles and worshipping local gods.
The most notable example was Nymeria's union with House Martell of Dorne. She led the remaining Rhoynar to abandon many of their customs and fully merge with Dorne.
From bloodline to culture, the Rhoynar became Dorne.
And Dorne, in turn, absorbed some of the Rhoynar's ways.
Two peoples coexisted in peace—no conquest, no subjugation—so there was no conflict or war.
Shouldn't you learn from these ancestors?
You can reform the old Slaver's Bay, but you cannot discard its former rulers as if they were trash."
"She has a point," Tyrion muttered thoughtfully.
"A point?" Clinton glared at him and said, "The Queen is bringing glorious knightly culture to Slaver's Bay and using the Seven to enlighten slaves who've suffered in darkness. What's wrong with that?"
"Exactly. I swear, Her Majesty is worthy of being called 'Saint Daenerys.'"
Sister Ashara looked toward the Queen on the throne, her eyes filled with admiration.
"Ah, Green Grace, you've misunderstood something." The Dragon Queen smiled.
(End of Chapter)
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