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Published:2020-04-25Updated:2026-04-06Words:409,591Chapters:71/?Comments:5,538Kudos:6,020Bookmarks:1,659Hits:467,056
The Stormborn and the Stormbringer
SkilledWarriorKiwi
Chapter 35: The mother's mercy
Chapter Text
I wonder if Aegon contemplated such as I, Daenerys thought, staring up at the glimmering stars high above her, When he issued his declaration to Harrenhal. Did he brood as well? Or was he certain in his conviction and slept well the night before? Was there ever any doubts? Did Balerion offer his own recourse to his rider? Was it he who suggested to burn the towers, to plummet into the gullet of Harrenhal to burn King Hoare and his blood alive? Or both came to such an idea?
She knew not how other Targaryens viewed their bonds with their dragons. Ghidorah was her son but from what she'd learned of her ancestors she seemed to be the only one to hold her dragon in that regard. But could she be wrong? The books she'd read about her family were clinical- they were not journals from the Targaryens themselves. Rather historic accounts from outsiders. Perhaps Aegon and Balerion shared a bond as kin, brothers. Perhaps Alysanne saw Silverwing as her dearest friend. Perhaps Aemond regarded Vhagar as one would an intimidating yet beloved aunt. Daenerys truly did not know. Any insight to fellow dragonriders were lost when the Usurper killed her family and banished her and Viserys across the Narrow Sea.
She wished Aemon had lived longer. He would know deeply the history of their family. He had lived through many Targaryens, had been a maester of the Citadel. Would he have the answers she sought.
Daenerys also wished she could have asked Aemon about this other Targaryen, that so-called Aegon the Sixth. She was still unconvinced of Strickland's words, believing they were a cruel bait for her. Dangling the desire for family, for kin, before her. There was still no regrets for killing the man, who would dare to use her longing for family as a weapon against her and tried to steal Blackfyre. Perhaps for the brutality of it, but what was done could not be undone. And now all she was left with was rumours and the memory of Aemon's frail arms around her.
Would Aemon encourage me west? He spoke true of the Others, those blue-eyed dead in my dreams...they will come for us, and their cold will destroy everything. I will have to face them eventually. But when? I cannot abandon Meereen, I will not abandon those who follow me for stories in the far west. At least not until I stabilize this city. The living are more important than the dead.
A breeze ruffled her sleeping shift, causing goosepimples to ripple up her bare arms. Back within her chambers, beside her bed, was Blackfyre and Aemon's chains. Above, she could hear Ghidorah's slow and steady breathing; since his return, he'd only awaken once and that was to feast upon a herd of cattle. After gorging himself on a dozen of the bovines, he'd flown back to the apex of the Great Pyramid and settled back to sleep. But his wounds had healed and so had Daenerys' arm, and they were both stronger every day.
Daario and her Dothraki had also returned. There had been some skirmishes with the remains of the slaver alliance yet nothing that took a life of one of her own. At least the alliance with the Lhazar meant they would not go hungry soon, even if sheep were poor defenders. But she had offered a hand after a fist, wanting to show she could extend peace if those opposed behaved. All the masters had gotten from their fighting against her was a shattered army and fields full of scorched and mutilated dead.
The stars above shimmered as she heard Mirri Maz Duur's voice as clearly as if the godswife were speaking in her ear.
Look to your khal and see what life is worth, when all the rest is gone.
Aemon said the Others could enslave dead men to them. A claim lent to certainty when she spoke to the Tarly. The Others were masters, simply of a different stock. There was no freedom in the grave, not while those strange beings lived. Even if she saved those in Meereen, how many years would it be before the Others came for them? How could she promise them a better life, if the undead march? Would they be able to cross the Narrow Sea? If they used weapons and steeds then boat building would not be beyond them. The white shadows.
She would have to face them eventually. That Daenerys knew now.
But she would not let the masters roam free while she waited for the Others. She couldn't. Just because the Others were the greatest threat did not mean the slavers were less so.
It was something she'd brooded over, ever since she'd woken from her week long slumber. When she took the cities Ghidorah destroyed as her own, added the bells to her hair, she had sorted over various plans on how to pry the Harpy from Meereen until she settled upon a plan which she weighed as having the highest chance of success with the least loss of life for her people.
Between her own contemplation, ruling Meereen and healing the cracks that had appeared during the siege, she also spoke with the red priestess.
Kinvara dwelled within the Great Pyramid, both as a guest and uneasy council. Daenerys did not trust the priestess, but she knew the Lord of Light was one of the more prominent faiths within Essos. She had no desire to alienate the faithful at large, especially with them being so willing to accept Daenerys and Kinvara had assured her as much about Volantis. She still did not quite understand the priestess and her conviction Daenerys was this 'Azor Ahai', as she had no witnessed any godly intervention in her travels. Kinvara was certain Ghidorah was a gift to her, and Daenerys' walk through the pyre unscathed proved as much to the mysterious woman. As it was, Kinvara seemed more than willing to let Daenerys alone yet she felt as if the priestess was waiting for Daenerys come to her rather than the other way around.
Daenerys only marginally trusted Quaithe, after the shadowbinder told her of Aemon. She was still a dangerous and very strange woman, much like Kinvara. Yet both came to Daenerys with the same warnings. Both wished to help her confront the Others. She had no seen Quaithe since that night she set for Braavos but Daenerys doubted it would be the last she'd seen of the shadowbinder.
Out beyond Meereen's walls, the camp had fully died of infected. The dead were burning, but Daenerys knew the tents would be ashes by the sunrise. The pale mare had quietly slunk off after its riders died. One less problem for her to brood over. There were even travelers coming to Meereen, or scattered refugees seeking shelter or fighters seeking out the pit. Avoiding the dead camp but still approaching Meereen now that the carnage beyond was gone.
But now she would sleep, for tomorrow the fighting pits would open after she held court.
"All kneel for Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, the Unburnt, Queen of Meereen, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Ghidorah the Stormbringer, " Missandei's voice echoed through the chamber as Daenerys descended to her court.
"Magnificence, every day you grow more beautiful," Reznak gushed to her, "Oh, my shining queen!"
Daenerys fought off the urge to glare at the man, instead settling down on her ebony bench as she said, "Summon the first petitioner."
This time it was Galazza Galare who stepped forward, her head held high, her face hidden behind a shimmering green veil. At the back of the chambers her fellow Graces kept back as the woman spoke, "Your Radiance, it might be best were we to speak in private."
"Would that I had the time," said Daenerys sweetly. "I am to open the fighting pits soon with a ceremony. What would you have of me?"
"I speak only of your dragon, Your Magnificence."
Daenerys twitched even if her words remained calm, "My child has fully healed from the injuries he suffered in routing our enemies during the siege. I thank you for your concern-"
"Your dragon devoured people during the battle," the Green Grace said.
"I fail to see your objection."
The wrinkles in the Green Grace's forehead creased as she frowned, "Forgive me, Your Radiance, I know you are still quite unfamiliar with our rituals. Feeding them-"
"They were attacking my city," Daenerys interrupted, "Trying to murder my people. If they truly cared for their people then they should not have done something so foolish as commit a siege against me, especially when I offered peace."
"They may be enemies of Your Magnificence, but Ghiscari blood is old in Essos and our memories are just as old. You claimed you were no butcher queen, but the bodies were simply cast into the ocean as food for the fish. It did little to soothe the people after the horrors of the siege."
"And I am sure you prayed for them within your temple. After all, I heard how the Graces refused my people during the siege," Daenerys said. "You must have been busy elsewhere."
"We did what we must do to survive," the Green Grace said. "We could not risk the pale mare spreading through us, even if our faith is strong and we grieved for the losses of our fellows."
"Interesting. I certainly did what I had to do in order to ensure my people survived."
"And survive they did," the Green Grace said as she inclined her head, silk shimmering as she spoke, "Yet it does not mean the people are soothed. Blood is still wet and people are still afraid. Perhaps if you chose to visit the Temple of the Graces and offer words to the gods or prayers then it would help ease their worries and remind them of everything their queen has done. After all, Meereen's queen must be a lady of Old Ghis. Our faith is old and strong even if it has been greatly shaken in these recent years, especially with many of our fellow Ghiscari cities being returned to the dirt in such a violent and abrupt manner."
Daenerys severely doubted the gods of Ghis viewed her in any favourable light. Still, after a moment of thought Daenerys sighed and nodded, the bells woven into her braid chiming softly with the movement.
"Very well, Galazza Galare. I will visit the Temple of the Graces after the fighting pits."
Pleased, the woman left and Daenerys ushered in the next with a wave of a hand. It was much of the same, as before the siege and Daenerys struggled to hide her boredom. Instead her thoughts would shift back to the battle, of flying atop her son and blasting their enemies to ash. And then that strange, disturbing dream of that great golden dragon and those monsters within strange realms.
After sending off another Daenerys held a brief respite. For while she'd largely healed, she could still feel a headache nipping at the edge of her awareness so she took some moment of quiet to sip at water and eat several peaches. Daario was in especially chipper spirits, much like when she'd awaken after the siege. If anything her destroying the masters army just embolden him towards her further, much to Barristan's subtle annoyance.
"Perhaps you should hold court with your other children," Daario said to her from where he was lounging on the slight steps before her bench. "Besides the ones who simply demand and whine like babes. I have men who do not believe you are real. Perhaps even just a puppet for a mummers play or some lofty goddess ascend from the heavens to cleave your enemies apart. I have new ones, born and bred of Westeros stock. They come with tales of Targaryens and their dragons. They want to see the dragon queen with their own eyes and even the doleful Frog has a gift for you."
"Frog?" Daenerys was amused as she swallowed down a mouthful of fruit. "What sort of gift?"
"Would that I know, my queen. He refused to part with it even on my promise I'd deliver it straight to you."
"The promise of a sellsword. Hm."
"Would I steal from my queen? Only a fool would do so, especially with that child of yours ready to defend his mother from any slight. But the Frog was insistent and would you make a liar of Daario Naharis?"
"You'd make a liar of yourself," Daenerys said. For a moment she thought about the request; it was a bit odd, but if they were indeed Westerosi then perhaps they could offer insight to her country of birth. Missandei had brought her scraps of information but the scribe was not yet entrenched in her butterflies. Asking someone who'd been there so soon may be beneficial especially if they had come to her and wished to gift her something. Perhaps they were even from her nephew? So Daenerys nodded, saying to Daario, "But you may tell your frog I'll see him this coming morn, as I must attend to the fighting pits and then the Graces. I do need to speak to my children as a whole, so they are reminded I hold kindness for them least they forget after I burned the masters army and saw only wrath."
"Oh your children cheered for that, have no doubt," Daario assured her, stroking his gilded mustachio. "After all, what child would not want a fierce and protective dragon for a mother?"
Many citizens of Meereen were moving west, to Daznak's great pit when Daenerys emerged in her palanquin after dealing with the remnants of those who sought the queen's council. Great cheers rose from the crowd and Daenerys barely blinked as she crossed her ankles. Strange how strong they cheered when it was the same plaza she'd staked so many of the masters to die in agonizing slowness. Before her palanquin was a shavepate herald, banging on his drum to clear the crowd as they moved towards the great fighting pit of Meereen. Behind the drummer there was four Brazen Beasts marching abreast, their bronze masks gleamed in the hot Essosi sun: boars and bulls, hawks and herons, wolves and hounds, lions and tigers and bears, fork-tongued serpent and twisted manticores.
Of her Queensguard there was Strong Belwas, who had no love for horses, and he walked in front of them in his studded vest, his scarred brown belly jiggling with every ponderous step the great eunuch took. Missandei followed, upon the back of a mare with an slender hawk clinging to the leather pad strapped to a shoulder. Daario was astride his horse, absentmindedly running his fingers over the hilts of his swords. Ser Barristan Selmy rode at Daenerys side, his gold and white armor flashing in the sun while a long cloak flowed from his back. On his left arm was a large white shield and at his hip was his ever present sword.
Behind were her khalasar and Dothraki riders. Already Daenerys could hear the debates about who would win or die in the fighting pits, the arguments and bets being laid. Death rode with every khalasar, after all. She'd seen men die so easily at her wedding, blood and guts spilling across the ground. It was said to be a sign of good fortune if there were deaths at a wedding. High above, she sensed Ghidorah's watchful presence and took comfort in her child being aware and near. She still felt somewhat frail from the horn but at the least she could walk without feeling faint even if her hunger remained ravenous.
At the gates of Daznak's Pit two towering bronze warriors stood locked in mortal combat. One wielded a long sword, the other a wickedly curved axe; the sculptor had depicted them in the act of slewing one another, their blades and bodies forming a great archway overhead.
She had seen many of Meereen's fighting pits from her lofty perch within the Great Pyramid but none compared to Daznak's pit. When they passed underneath the archway it was to appear at the top of a great brick bowl ringed by descending tiers of benches, each a different color. Black, purple, blue, green, white, yellow, orange and then to the red, where the scarlet bricks took the color of the dusty earth of the fighting pit itself. Per custom, she was permitted to the pavilion just before the pit, to witness the bloodshed at the best vantage.
Now seated, people began to stream through the great bronze archway to swam over the benches. Yet no sooner did an immense shadow pass overhead and the dull boom of wingbeats reverberated around the pit and the great chorus of voices give way to screams. Daenerys ignored them as Ghidorah descended, landing with a great shudder with seemed to rock the earth as he landed behind her. Steps cracked underneath his talons as the golden dragon folded his huge wings against his sides before he crawled down to Daenerys. Her council scattered, the hawk upon Missandei's shoulder squawking but not taking flight as the scribe gracefully move aside as Ghidorah's heads pushed forward. Two rested on the ground next to her throne, while the midmost reared back like a snake, hanging above the pavilion like a stalwart sentry. His tails curled around the pavilion, the clubbed tips nearly hanging over the edge of the pit.
"Your Magnificent-" Reznak began in a shaking voice.
"My son stays with me," Daenerys snapped in a tone which brooked no argument.
Reznak shuddered from where he'd fallen to the ground but wasn't stupid enough to continue protesting. The others in the pavilion knew better and Barristan took his customary place at her right side, seemingly ignoring the dragon head resting right next to him. Her khalasar were well used to her dragon and simply returned to conversing with one another as they flocked to the benches around her while Skahaz, Belwas and Daario avoided stepping too close to him within the pavilion. Missandei soothed her hawk with some offered pieces of sliced kidney from the food available- it had been well stocked with wines, sweet water, figs, dates, melons and pomegranates, along with spiced pecans, almonds and peppers along with a bowl of honeyed locusts. Daenerys wanted thick hearty meat instead. Maybe beef or horse.
Ghidorah was large enough that now seated his brow was above Daenerys. But she settled a slim hand upon the snout of his left-most head, golden scales smooth against her palm as she began to pat him. His thoughts were content, helping soothe the ragged edges of Daenerys' bristling thoughts.
Without prompting Grey Worm moved and he and two dozen Unsullied grouped themselves loosely around Ghidorah's body along the benches to discourage anyone from getting too close. Though Daenerys doubted that would be a problem, considering how subdued the crowd now was with Ghidorah's presence. But they were no less eager.
Daenerys settled back in her chair, one hand patting Ghidorah's snout while the other picked at the bowl of figs. Strong Belwas was more than welcome to the locusts as she nibbled at the sweet fruit. The chain sewn into her belt clinked slightly with her movements.
Across the pits she could see the Green Grace, surrounded by the various colours of her fellow Graces. The Great Masters of Meereen were settled along the benches of red and orange, closest to the pit itself. Their clothing was coloured to each family, much how Daenerys was clad in black and red. Food traders were wandering through the thickening masses, calling out their wares of roasted onions, dog sausages, fried nuts and various wines. Meereenese of lesser birth crowded the upper tiers, more distant from the carnage of the great bowl below. The black and purple benches, highest and most distant from the sand, were crowded with freedmen and other common folk.
Daenerys scowled; she should have implemented a rule of 'first come first served' in terms of the benches rather than letting the masters keep the privilege of being seated close. It must have slipped her mind, when she implemented the new rules; an age limit, consent, and fair distribution of wealth had been her main focus.
Next to her was several goblets and as an announcer yelled within the pit with grandiose gestures, praising her for opening it, she poured one of the flagons of stolen wine taken from the broken siege.
A single sip and she knew the wine was too rich for her, such a deep crimson it was near black. At Ghidorah's curious sniff she offered the goblet to him and, when he opened his mouth, she poured the wine into his fanged maw. He swallowed before all three of his heads scrunched up into an expression which could only be described as utter disgust and Daenerys found herself giggling.
She settled down with a goblet of sweet water after discarding the wine, sipping at it at the pitmaster left the arena to admit the two fighters who would begin. They both seemed to jolt at Ghidorah's proximity, but otherwise didn't flee or panic.
The first battle was of Khrazz of Meereen, a hulking man of humble birth and who'd pleaded with her before to open the pits, facing against a Summer Islander armed with a spear. Both approached the foot of her pavilion, seemingly unable to decide upon who to stare at- Daenerys or her son. Per custom, Daenerys listened to them both declare their intention to fight and once done clapped her hands together to begin the battle.
It was a fleeting battle, as the moment Khrazz darted past the length of the spear with his shortsword it was short, brutal and bloody and the Summer Islander's blood joined the countless others to seep into the sand. Yet Khrazz continued with his butchery, hacking the heart free from the fresh corpse and raising it over his head to the screams and shouts of the crowd before taking a bite from the bloody organ.
The revulsion that rose in Daenerys at the gory display was quickly brushed aside by Ghidorah's merriment, his right most head opening his jaws in a lupine grin as his tongue flickered forth at the scent of blood and offal filling the heated air. She clung to his mind, using it as an anchor to avoid grimacing. She'd eaten a heart before, though it was of a stallion to give strength to her unborn son who'd ended up murdered within her regardless. Three treason, one from Jorah and one from the godswife. What was left? Brown Ben Plumm? She didn't know.
Even with the treason, the betrayal, sometimes she missed Jorah so badly it ached. Now she watched absentminded as down below the corpse was dragged from the pit as she thought over Jorah. A part of her didn't know what she would do if he returned- would she really slew him? He'd seen her at her worst, when she was bleeding and weakened and left with nothing when Drogo fell. When she hatched Ghidorah and they marched through the Red Waste and so many died. He had sold her secrets to the Usurper, yet he had saved her from the poisoned wine at Vaes Dothrak. But caused the attempted assassination in the first place.
Ghidorah's mind shifted against her, again pushing aside her roiling emotions and thoughts of Jorah until they felt distant and needless. Overtaken by Ghidorah's own. She took in a deep breath, settling herself down as the Spotted Cat faced against a man as broad as Strong Belwas. She'd chosen to open the pits, she'd make herself watch each and every one of them die. She had also continued with the practice of forcing criminals to fight, yet only for murderers and rapers and those who continued slaving. Thieves and that ilk were spared that fate.
And die they did; the one facing the Spotted Cat had his throat sliced open ear to ear as the crowd screamed their approval. After them followed an array of fighters; pale Qartheen, black Summer Islanders, copper-skinned Dothraki, Tyroshi with blue curling beards, Lamb Men, the pointed skulled Jogos Nhai, sullen Braavosi, brindle-skinned half-men from the jungles of Sothoros. All bled red just the same as the others.
"A boy," Daenerys mused, more to herself than anything, as a Lysene youth with flowing blonde hair was gutted before her, "He was only a boy."
"He was six-and-ten," Reznak said, still on the opposite side of the pavilion, as far from Ghidorah as he could get yet still be underneath the awning. "He was a man grown, who freely chose to risk his life for gold and glory. No children die today in Daznak's, as our gentle queen in her wisdom has decreed."
Another small victory. Perhaps I cannot make my people good but I should at least try to make them a little less bad.
Ghidorah grumbled next to her but she couldn't understand his emotions so she made herself focus on the fights before her.
Animals were also there to fight but it quickly became apparent that the instant they caught Ghidorah's scent the animals would panic and try to flee the pit. The elephant that was supposed to fight six red wolves instead ended up smashing down one of the doors to the tunnels beyond and went rampaging outside until it was killed with a spear through the eye. The wolves simply cowered and whined, and when a beast master tried to flog them into obedience he ended up being mauled to death by the hysterical animals. After that there was no more beast battles. Ghidorah was just amused from the animals fears, but Daenerys felt pity when she saw them drag the now-slain wolves from the pit. They had not chosen to fight, unlike the men and women.
"It is a pity the animals won't fight," Reznak sniffed. "The cooks use the dead beasts to make stews. Once the fighting is through, any who goes to the Gates of the Fallen may take a bowl. It will be lean today."
"A good custom," Daenerys said. "We should create more."
After the failed beast fights came a mock battle, pitting six men on foot against six horsemen. The six on foot were armed with Dothraki arakhs and wore no armour much like true Dothraki would. The mock knights were armed with shields and longswords and clad in clanking mail hauberks.
At first the riders seemed to have the advantage, riding down two of their foes with the sharp hooves of their steeds and slashing the ear from a third, but then the surviving knights began to attack the horses. And when Ghidorah flexed out his wings slightly the horses panicked and kicked their remaining riders off and one by one the mock knights were slain on foot.
Daenerys heard disquieted grumbles from her khalasar, knowing they thought very little of these mock Dothraki even if they were victorious.
The follies were more slim; some designed by slavers of other cities which had been either killed or fled after the siege. Some of the slaves in the pits were freed via Daenerys killing their masters and had no other skill to them beyond partaking in the pit. The first were a group of cripples fighting a group of crones, hacking at each other with torches and cleavers while Daenerys failed to hide her disgust. Ghidorah found those fights much less amusing as well, seemingly annoyed as a man lacking his left arm got beaten to death by two bent-backed wrinkled women wielding maces in their bony hands. She had wanted to ban the follies but had relented with Reznak's argument that the Meereeneese people would love her more if she laughed with them at such displays, and argued that without such frolics, the cripples, dwarfs, and crones would starve. So she had relented even if she entirely failed to find the humour in such battles.
Judging by the frown Ser Barristan sported he was much the same and even Missandei had a slightly distasteful tilt to her full lips. Of the rest of the watchers they seemed to find the follies funny.
Once the cripples and crones were done a score of dwarves were brought forth, clothed in bright, mismatched clothing. In this regard there was far less carnage and it seemed a genuine antic, armed with wooden swords and daggers, making overly exaggerated hollers and tumbling through the sand or even juggling their weapons. It did make her smile slightly, especially after the previous fight. Ghidorah was entirely neutral towards it.
"Perhaps the follies can be more like this," Daenerys said.
"Just wait, Your Radiance," Reznak said. "The lions will be let in soon. They haven't been fed for a week, so they should even ignore your dragon in their hunger."
She frowned at him, "The dwarves have wooden swords and no armour. They are acting as tumblers. How are they supposed to defend themselves against lions?"
"Poorly. Mayhaps they were surprise us but more likely they were scream and run, try to climb out of the pits on their stunted limbs. That is what makes this a folly."
Daenerys scowled, hand tightening around Blackfyre's hilt, "No, I forbid such a thing."
"Gentle queen, you do not want to disappoint your people-"
"One of my stipulations in reopening the fighting pits was that all those who took part took part of their own free will," Daenerys cut over him. "These dwarfs did not consent to battle lions with wooden swords. You will stop it. Now."
Reznak was displeased but nonetheless he beckoned to the pitmaster down below.
The pitmaster hurried over, his whip curling in his hands as he leaned up as Reznak as the seneschal bent down to relay Daenerys' demand to him.
"No lions, Magnificence? But-"
Ghidorah's snarl cut the man's sentence short and he stumbled back so quickly he fell over his robes onto the dirt. Reznak also cringed away, half hiding his head behind the voluminous sleeves of his robes. In the pit the dwarves immediately stopped their cavorting, scurrying back to a safer range while the crowds fell silent in the wake of Ghidorah's blatant annoyance.
"Tell them to send in Barsena Blackhair," Skahaz called down to the pitmaster as he got back to his feet.
"Ah yes, she will help appease the crowds," Reznak said, sweat dotting his brow. "She is much loved. She was due to fight a boar today, yet the animals won't fight so she is to fight the Steelskin."
Daenerys also knew Barsena was fighting a male pit fighter because they could not pay a woman enough to face her.
Barsena stepped forth with all the grace of a great hunting cat, her muscles ripping beneath dark, scarred skin. She was naked save for breechclout and sandals, a long vicious looking knife in one hand with the other bare. Steelskin was a wiry youth, with most of his skin covered in strange curling tattoos of black and green. Much like Barsena he was bare beyond breeches and sandals and armed with a longaxe.
The fight was the longest yet; Steelskin seemed well aware of who he was fighting, keeping Barsena back and moving defensively as the woman danced around him, taking slashes with her knife and trying to duck underneath his guard. Despite his tattoos, which were said to be carved to make his skin and bones as hard as steel, Barsena had him bleeding from long slices along his arms and shoulders soon enough while she remained untouched. The crowd screeched and crowed as Barsena prowled around her prey; for that was what it was, even Daario and Belwas made comments to that effect of who the winner was to be. Daenerys had to wonder if she would ever be able to move like Barsena, the sure way she cut with her blade and how she seemed to know each step before she even did so. Blackfyre was an increasingly familiar weight at Daenerys' hip.
Then Steelskin made the mistake of overreaching with a swipe of his axe and Barsena darted in to seize the boy by the wrist as she jammed a hip into his stomach; with a heave she threw Steelskin over her shoulder, sending him slamming onto the sand with his axe clattering out of reach. He barely had time to try and push himself up onto his elbows when Barsena was upon him, straddling him as she seized a handful of his hair in one hand even as her blade plunged over and over into his throat and chest until scarlet was spraying over her naked chest and splattering the ground around them. The crowd screamed and clapped as Barsena stood over the dead boy, raising her bloodied hands over her head and shouting triumphantly.
Daenerys made herself watch each fight, frowning slightly or nibbling on the foods of her pavilion. Ghidorah found them more entertaining than her, especially if they were gory. However not all fights ended in death, such as those between the oldest or most expensive of pit fighters. Ones where much gold had been sunk into. The crowds may have protested but Ghidorah's snarling would see them behaving whenever they got too boisterous.
Instead Daenerys was anticipating the end more and more as they reached the completion of the roster. Her plan, which she'd been thinking over, rolling it over her head back and forth like a worry marble until finally she came to something she deemed acceptable. Some nights she didn't, thinking of the cities her son had buried into the sea under an ocean of blood, but others she knew she had to do it. She had been told that morn the Harpy had killed forty more and Daenerys knew it would climb if she did not act. Did not cut the rotting limb and root. She'd had enough.
So the opening of the fighting pits was also a two-fold resolution. One, it was to cultivate entertainment back to the people. And two, it was to get the masters out of their pyramids. Rather than issuing orders to drag them free and result in open war, the masters where already gathered in the open. There would be no need to dig them out.
So when the fighting pits concluded, Daenerys called forth Daario, Barristan, Missandei and Skahaz and Grey Worm and her bloodriders. She told them blunt and quick her plans, not wanting to give the masters the opportunities to slip back to their dens. Her orders issued, she then beckoned to Reznak and through him announced a public assembly at the Great Pyramid. She didn't trust the seneschal at all so only demanded a public address as an explanation. He was far too feathered for her.
Her plan worked, for when the masters and freedmen followed it was largely ignorant to how the Dothraki, Brazen Beasts and Stormcrows scattered outwards while Barristan and Belwas stepped close. Grey Worm and his Unsullied were less subtle, instead mostly grouped with her in case things turned violent, with the rest going to the lesser pyramids. They would round up any stragglers and prevent escapees.
Her judgement was issued in public, before the Great Pyramid. She sat on her ebony bench before the steps leading inside, the golden three-headed dragon crown forged from the harpy affixed to her head. Ghidorah towered over her, his golden bulk settled on the stone steps of the Great Pyramid so all three heads hung above her. Flanking her were her Queensguard and to her left was Missandei. Daario lounged on the steps near the courtyard, toying with the hilts of his swords. Kinvara had also appeared, standing beyond Ghidorah's bulk and watching the assembly with glittering green eyes but the red priestess kept to herself. Further back were the Unsullied and Brazen Beasts, more scattered throughout the neighbouring streets in case things grew restless.
Daenerys felt it would help bolster her people, to see their queen render such a heavy judgement in public before them. Her absence had been felt and she wanted to reassure them.
She was sitting down upon the bench in the same place where she'd ordered the masters crucified when she took the city. She'd been young then, too gentle. Ghidorah followed her much the same, settled down behind her before the Great Pyramid with his midmost head hanging only a few feet above her silvery gold hair. Each breath made the small bells within her braid tinkle.
She wasn't surprised when the masters were the closest to her; even in the plaza where she'd killed their kin, they felt so arrogant they should be allowed the proximity in her address. It was also so noticeable, between the quality of clothing of the masters and the freed slaves; even after banning the tokar she didn't miss how many of the robes still bore a startling resemblance to the garment.
At her sides was Barristan and Missandei and with a twitch of her fingers, the scribe stepped forward. The hawk upon the Naathi's shoulder squawked softly as Missandei called out, her voice easily carrying over the mass gathered, "You stand before Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, The Unburnt, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Queen of Meereen, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Ghidorah the Stormbringer. You have been assembled to witness judgement be met out to the Great Masters of Meereen, as their failure to abide by the queen's laws."
The utter silence that followed was near comical, the only noise being Ghidorah's heavy breathing above her.
Then the cluster of masters and their kin began to shout. They did not call her name, which few of them could pronounce.
"Mother!" they cried to her instead; in the long dead tongue of Ghis. The same as in Yunkai, they called her Mhysa. Mother. Mother. Mother. They stamped their feet and reached out to her beseechingly.
"Mhysa, Mhysa, Mhysa," until the great courtyard seemed to tremble with the noise. Daenerys let the sound wash over her, hands clenched so tight upon her lap her knuckles were white.
I am not your mother, she thought, resisting the urge to scream that at them, I am the mother of your slaves, of every boy who ever died upon these sands whilst you gorged on honeyed locusts, I am the mother of every girl you sold to a brothel, I am the mother of every man you flogged to death for trying to flee his chains, I am the mother of every woman you raped for just wanting a better life free from bondage. I am the mother of the slaves, not you vile harpies.
Above Ghidorah stretched out his wings, lightning forking over his fangs as he snarled so harshly the crowd grew silent near instantly. His tails flicked back and forth, barbed spikes whistling.
"You opened your gates to me," Daenerys said, her voice echoing over the plaza as she cast her violet gaze towards the back of the crowds, where the freedmen were watching, "Because I promised you freedom and justice. I promised you fire and blood for those who would harm you. Yet while I destroyed the harpy beyond Meereen's walls, yet while I burnt their masters and army to nothing and sent them broken and bleeding, I failed to keep you safe within the walls. I failed to keep you safe from the Sons of the Harpy. I am here now, to correct that mistake and make good upon my promise of granting you freedom and justice."
Taking a breath, she now looked to the masters, lip curling much like Ghidorah's own were, "As for the Great Masters of Meereen. I made a mistake leaving you your homes, your wealth, your comfort. I foolishly believed that you could cast off your abhorrent ways, that you would embrace a new world after I showed you the punishment for failing to adhere to my rule. You failed. Instead you chose to became the Sons of the Harpy and murder your fellows, my children, and I am now without tolerance for your deceitful actions."
Her fingers toyed with the ruby eyes of Blackfyre's crossguard, the tiny dragon teeth catching at her fingertips. Above, the sun was shining and casting chips of light along the stone steps as the light bounced off Ghidorah's golden scales.
Fire and Blood.
"Galazza Galare, the Green Grace and the high priestess of the Ghiscari Temple of the Graces of Meereen, come forward," Daenerys demanded in the ensuing quiet.
The Green Grace was resplendent in her shimmering emerald silks, leaving her cluster of flustered Graces to approach the foot of the steps leading to the Great Pyramid. Distantly Daenerys was aware of a few masters trying to slink away, only to be rebuked by the Brazen Beasts. There were also more masters being pushed past the now enforced line, having been pulled forth from the pyramids by the Unsullied.
"Your Radiance," the Green Grace said. There was no hint of fear in her eyes.
"For long you were whispering in my ear," Daenerys said to the woman, "Remember how you urged me to don a tokar and to wed a Meereeness husband? How to wear either without I would be seen as a senseless barbarian, a grotesque invader. That Meereen's queen must be a lady of Old Ghis. How you shoved a slaver sympathizing husband at me with all your wiles and claimed your gods told you such a thing. But I am not Ghiscari and never will be such a thing. I am the blood of Old Valyria, of the dragonlords that drowned Old Ghis inflames and sent it to memory. I am the blood of Aegon the Conqueror, who chose to destroy the fleets of Volantis rather than take the side of slavers centuries ago. I am a dragon and my wings will never be feathered."
As she looked down upon Galazza Galare with her wrinkled brown skin and slender veiled form she thought of Brown Ben Plumm. She'd been stupid enough to be fooled by his outwardly appearance, wrinkled and greying like a favoured uncle, and he had stabbed her in the back the instant he got the chance. Daenerys should have known better but she was still alive to correct her current mistakes.
What a fool Daenerys had been, to forget all sons have a mother. That women were just as dangerous and hateful as men.
"Do you remember those women weavers, Green Grace?" Daenerys asked her, voice echoing through the area. "I do. I also remember how your cousin come to me. He demanded that those women, who were his previous slaves, give him half of their profits. He claimed they only had their skills from him, despite him failing to remember the one who actually taught them the skills. And do you know what happened to these freedwomen? These women weavers who granted me a tapestry for my very room as a gift for me granting them freedom?"
The silence in the courtyard was stifling. None dared to speak and the Green Grace continued to stare at Daenerys passively. Her own lip curled further to bare her teeth, mirroring Ghidorah's own snarl above her.
"Those women were found dead. The Sons of the Harpy broke into their home, destroyed their loom before raping them then slitting their throats. Indeed some say, a striking coincidence. But I think not. The fury a mother holds for her kin's enemies is without bounds."
The tapestry still hung in Daenerys room. A monument to her failure to protect her people while she supped with their murderers.
"I was a fool," Daenerys admitted to the silent courtyard. "I forwent the obvious truth- the Sons of the Harpy are exactly that. Sons. And all sons have a mother. And the harpy is a woman, after all."
A breeze fluttered through the square, tugging at Daenerys' hair and making the bells woven within chime. The scrape of scales against stone as Ghidorah growled lowly, great golden form shifting.
Daenerys spoke coldly, her violet glare never once wavering from the Green Grace. "How foolish of me, not to look for a woman when it is the sons doing the knife work at their mothers behest. So I say, Galazza Galare, the high priestess of the Gods of Ghis. You are the Harpy and your sons have been killing my people at your behest as you try to slide poisons in my ear. So I will do to you as I did the masters who thought to kill my people. I will let you know the true embrace of my House's words."
"So you will sully the stones before the Great Pyramid, forged with thirty-three levels to honour the gods of the pyramid of Old Ghis? With a Green Grace's own blood?" the old woman finally spoke, her wrinkled hands clasped before her.
"If the gods of Ghis protest such an action, they may act now."
"I have been nothing but loyal to you, gentle queen," the old woman said after a stretch of silence, "I encouraged our people to accept your rule, even after you strung up the noble blooded. I offered you council-"
"What type of betrayer would openly plot against the one she plans to slay?" Daenerys interrupted. "I am well aware of how you lied to my Queensguard, telling them lies about my fate and wishing to murder my son. Shall I tell you what I did to the last woman who harmed my son? Shall I tell you how I burned one at a pyre, how I sealed another to suffocate in darkness?"
The Green Grace shook her head, veil shimmering with the movement, "I simply gave you advice as to become one with Meereen, Your Radiance. To cease you being a stranger to us-"
"And who is this 'us'? The masters? I spent too long worrying about the opinions of slavers and all it gave me was daggers in the dark and an army outside my walls."
"You still hold to your Westerosi rituals," Galazza Galare said. "Even now, you ignore the verdict of the gods over the judgements of men-"
"If it is trial by combat you seek, then let it be known my son will fight for me. Will any of your sons fight for you, Galazza Galare?"
Not a sound issued from the masters clustered in the plaza like frightened rabbits. None stepped forward and Ghidorah let out a noise that almost sounded like a laugh as one of his tails slapped against the ground.
"I have no use for your excuses and I am done with brooding over the opinions of harpies. I am here to free the slaves, not sup with the slavers. Therefore I, Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Ghidorah the Stormbringer, sentence you to death."
"You will never be welcomed here," Galazza Galare said, her green eyes finally giving way to a bottomless well of spite and loathing.
"Jelmazmar."
Ghidorah reared back, three serpentine throats glowing with shimmering light before he spat forth triple lances of lightning. Daenerys felt the hair on her nape go on end and the crowd shrank back with shrieks at the burst of light. When Ghidorah snapped his jaws shut, there was nothing remaining of the Green Grace. Only scorch marks upon the cracked stone where she stood.
With the head severed, Daenerys began the slovenly task of going through each and every Great Master family, starting with the Green Grace's own. She stripped them all of their wealth and status as default but her punishment differed. For each one she made stand before her, she also asked if there were seven freed slaves who would speak in defense of their masters she may reconsider the punishment. But she would also hear from the freed slaves against the masters. Depending upon the severity of the crimes committed against their former slaves, Daenerys had two punishments in hand.
Execution or exile.
The children she spared, even if they now lacked a name or status. Same for those who joined the shavedpates and Brazen Beasts. The children were given to the many orphanages of Meereen. While Daenerys would exterminate the families she wasn't going to start butchering children for sins they may or may not commit. She was not the Usurper or a Lannister, who murdered babes and children. Now, she would give them a chance even if she had them taken away after the Green Grace's execution. The rest of the masters she killed publicly while those sentenced to exile would be given as much clothing and food as they can carry but beyond that they would have nothing- no gold, no weapons, no animals. They would no longer be citizens of Meereen and due to the destruction of the neighbouring slaver cities Daenerys knew most would die. Ones such as Zhak and Merreq, who had estates in the hills, were also stripped of those buildings. They would have to go without. Or they could adapt, as her and many others in terrible lives had done so. After all, many farms were also looking for extra hands and the fields were slowly regrowing or even join the sheep men.
But those who were issued exile were in the minority; most were executed, the past slaves coming forth with horrible stories that made Daenerys inwardly curse herself for making them live side by side the masters for so long. And the masters, knowing there was no escape, let slip their masks.
"You don't belong here," a greying woman of Pahl spat at her during one of the judgements, "No matter how many traitors call you mother or queen. You're just some foreign whore."
Then golden light blasted her into dust. The stone was splintered and cracked, blackened and warped from Ghidorah's breath.
"Some savage bitch from the west, may your throat be slit," another of House Ghazeen screamed at her before lightning struck him down.
By the end only three of the Meereen families were spared exile or death.
Two were of greatly lesser families, one being a small fishing group and another stockbrokers within the wharf. The fishers were barely more than peasants, they worked on the ships and hauled the nets just as the slaves had done alongside them. All members of the family had freedmen vouch for them when called forth, citing no actions of abuse from their previous masters. They're adapted to Daenerys' rule and had paid their ex-slaves with no quarrels and continued to work alongside them.
The other of the families was where a freedman had asked Daenerys to be given back as a slave. An old man, who acted as a tutor for his master's children. Who viewed the master and children as his own kin. Daenerys had permitted the man to return to his service, but with a written contract and payment. The family had not protested such a thing, willingly accepting the contract with no argument as they took the tutor back into their lodgings; the old man had already his own quarters and well fed, and had returned with a salary.
The last was Kandaq, Skahaz's own. He and his fellow kin had followed Daenerys doggedly and without complaint even if Skahaz himself had disagreed with some of her decisions. His Brazen Beasts had been invaluable as a a city watch. Kandaq had already been regarded as a lesser house, their pyramid small and extremely modest compared to the likes of Uhlez or Loraq.
Those three families were the only ones spared. All else failed their judgements, Reznak included. The seneschal begged and pleaded alongside his family- spared execution, he was granted exile but considering how the man wept Daenerys doubted he saw a difference. She ignored his cries, as with the other masters sentenced to exilium, and ordered for them to be banished from the city in that moment. Then, as the Unsullied herded those exiles from Meereen, she ordered Skahaz and Daario to scour the pyramids in case they missed any stragglers.
By the time she was finished, dusk had fallen and painted the skies in purples and oranges with small stars bursting forth and the stone where the master's had been slain was broken into splinters. Ghidorah was also pleased, having executed hundreds of the masters who were found guilty and Daenerys felt embolden with the way the freemen were watching her now. Most had stayed for the entirety of the executions even if some had left to see to their affairs. Some cried out to her as she rose, calling her Mhysa but with the genuine attention rather than the pleading the masters had done. Daenerys was exhausted but pleased, having fulfilled her promise to protect her children. Now with the masters dead or banished her people could sleep easy.
"Come, Your Grace," Barristan stepped closer to her, a gauntlet-clad hand gently touching her elbow, "You should eat and rest. It has been a busy day."
"But fruitful," Misssandei added, moving to Daenerys' other side.
Above, Ghidorah shook out his scales with a noise like clattering chainmail before he flared out his great bat-like wings and took to the sky in a burst of air. Her children called out to him, praising his strength and golden scales as he rapidly ascended to the sky or continuing to call to her. Daenerys gave the crowds a tired smile, pleased with her effort before accepting her knight's and scribe's aid.
As Daenerys turned back to the Great Pyramid she caught Kinvara's eye from where the woman had been silent and watchful for the entirety of the trials. The priestess smiled at her, placing a slim hand upon her belly as she bowed to Daenerys before turning away in a swirl of crimson silk.
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