The fires had burned low across Meereen, but within the Great Pyramid, another warmth lingered — one of victory and closeness.
The war was over. For now.
And in the quiet that followed, Daenerys and I celebrated the only way we knew how: together.
The upper terrace overlooked the city. Fires from the last skirmishes smoldered below, faint pinpricks of orange dotting the horizon. The night air was warm, tinged with the smell of ash, sea, and something new.
Freedom.
We sat beside each other on the balcony, a small table between us holding a wine carafe, two cups, and half a bowl of dates. She had kicked off her boots long ago, her legs curled beneath her, hair loosed from its braids.
I poured her another cup. "To Meereen."
"To survival," she said, tapping her cup lightly against mine.
The wine was stronger than we expected. Or maybe we were just tired. The tension bled from our shoulders with every sip. She leaned into me after a while, her head resting lightly against my collarbone. Neither of us spoke.
"I didn't think we'd win so cleanly," she murmured at last.
"Not clean," I said, brushing her hair back. "But effective."
She smiled against my skin. "You always sound so certain. Even when you aren't."
"I don't have to be. I have you."
That made her still.
Her fingers trailed over the back of my hand. "You could've taken Meereen alone, I think."
I laughed quietly. "Not without you. You're the fire they believe in. I'm the wind that keeps it burning."
She turned then, slowly, and kissed me.
Soft.
Careful.
But full of intent.
We moved together through flickers of firelight and the hush of night. Her kisses grew deeper, slower — but not shy. She knew what she wanted.
When I guided her onto the cushions, she followed easily, her legs wrapping around my waist as her hands explored my back, my shoulders, tugging me down into her. Her breath was hot against my throat, her body arching as I pressed into her, drawing out a quiet moan that sent heat rushing through me.
She gasped my name again, this time louder, her fingers threading through my hair to pull me closer.
I kissed her jaw, her throat, her chest, savoring each soft sound she made, each shift of her hips as I moved inside her. Our pace built gradually, steadily, like waves rising with the tide. Her legs locked around me tighter.
We weren't gentle anymore.
We needed it.
When she came, she cried out against my shoulder, biting back the sound too late. Her body trembled beneath mine, nails dragging down my spine. I followed not long after, clinging to her, breath shallow, everything in me unraveling all at once.
After, we stayed tangled in each other, the sweat on our skin cooling as the wind from the open window kissed our bare bodies.
She rested her head on my chest, and we drifted in and out of sleep until dawn.
The knock came just after sunrise.
Missandei waited with a message: everything from the fortress had arrived in Meereen. All supplies, personnel — and the hatchlings.
Daenerys sat upright, blinking. "Hatchlings?"
I rose, pulling my robe around me. "The others. The ones I hatched in secret. Valyrian-born, like ours. But different."
Daenerys stood slowly, the surprise fading into curiosity. "Take me to them."
The courtyard had been reinforced with heavy stone and iron. Within it waited the trio:
Tiraxes, deep red and wiry, tail twitching. His eyes were sharp and unblinking.
Nyxarys, a swirl of violet and silver, basked in a patch of morning light, wings spread like silk.
Sorynth, orange and restless, paced with jittery steps, too alert for stillness.
Daenerys paused.
"They're smaller than mine," she said, stepping closer.
"They hatched later," I said. "But they're coordinated. And fast."
At the sound of my voice, all three turned. They didn't move to me — they simply watched. Ready.
"Do they obey you?" she asked.
I lifted a hand.
The dragons responded with a low, unified growl. Not hostile — acknowledging.
"They do."
She smiled faintly. "And now they're here."
I nodded. "All of them."
Meereen was now home to 7 dragons.
And soon, the world would tremble again.
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