The scent of scorched stone and trampled blood still clung to Meereen's walls, but the city itself had begun to breathe again.
After the conquest, everything moved quickly. The fortress had been repurposed, all critical supplies from the base were transferred, and the people — Dothraki, freedmen, and former slaves — settled into a routine. Life had not returned to normal, but it had to steady itself.
The Unsullied held the gates, their ranks disciplined and sharp. The Dothraki ran patrols outside the walls, keeping watch across the dusty plains. Within the city, markets opened slowly, food lines shortened, and children played near the fountains once again. Meereen was no paradise — not yet — but it was no longer a battlefield.
And from the skies, six dragons flew freely over the city, growing bolder with each passing day.
We sat atop the Great Pyramid, Daenerys and I, legs dangling over the edge. The trio Tiraxes, Nyxarys, and Sorynth — zipped through the skies, their speed unmatched despite their smaller size. They looped around towers, raced each other through the fields, and often harassed the flocks meant for feeding.
Viserion and Rhazal had grown more composed in the last few weeks. They soared with purpose, patrolling Meereen's borders. Drakaina remained unpredictable — fierce, dominant, a flame that sometimes flickered too close to rage.
And Vaedron, as always, watched from his perch atop one of the sun-warmed domes, only moving when absolutely necessary. His wings stretched longer than any of the others, though he rarely used them. He preferred to observe — and to sleep.
"They're growing fast," Daenerys said beside me.
"Exactly as they should."
She nodded, but her eyes remained fixed on Drakaina, who was currently snarling at Tiraxes over a goat carcass in the field. Tiraxes didn't back down, and within seconds, Nyxarys darted between them like a violet blur, yanking a piece of meat away and flying off cackling.
"They're learning hierarchy on their own," I said. "We don't need to interfere unless it becomes dangerous."
"Like Drakaina almost biting me?" she replied with a dry smile.
"She learned her lesson." I glanced over at Vaedron, who hadn't moved since that day. "And she won't forget it."
Daenerys sighed. "I know she didn't mean it. But it's hard not to flinch when she bares her teeth."
"She's headstrong. But she respects power. You just have to keep reminding her that you have it."
"Easier said than done," she murmured.
Viserion dropped suddenly from the sky, letting out a sharp cry to alert us. A plume of smoke rose in the distance — not a threat, just a warning. Someone had lit another signal fire near the outer gates.
Barristan Selmy appeared moments later, climbing the stairs toward us.
"My queens," he greeted with a short bow, nodding to us both.
"You saw the fire?" Daenerys asked.
"I did. It's a merchant caravan — one of ours — passing through the southeast checkpoint. No threat."
"Keep patrols doubled through the night anyway," I said.
He gave a crisp nod. "Already done."
Back in the city, Grey Worm and Jorah Mormont oversaw final relocation efforts. What remained of the old base outside the city had been completely abandoned. Supplies, livestock, maps, even recovered texts — everything was brought inside Meereen's walls. It was now the true base of power in Slaver's Bay.
I made my way through the halls of the Great Pyramid, checking on each floor. Missandei followed behind me, reading from a scroll.
"Astapor remains quiet. The city's in our hands, and no resistance has risen."
"And Yunkai?"
"Already taken. Their banners hang beneath ours now."
I nodded. "Then we move on when the time is right. Let them know who rules Slaver's Bay."
Outside, the city pulsed with quiet tension. Walls were reinforced, training yards reopened, and grain stores were being refilled. The people had hope again — but it was a cautious one. They had seen rulers before. They had seen false promises.
We would prove ourselves different.
That evening, Daenerys stood on a balcony watching her dragons soar. Rhazal and Viserion flew tight formations over the city wall. Tiraxes followed, his wings churning the air like a blur of fire-red leather. Nyxarys and Sorynth zipped past them moments later, chasing the same unlucky bird.
Vaedron still hadn't moved from his usual resting spot. He blinked slowly, watching the chaos with a lazy flick of his tail.
"I can't believe how fast they've grown," Daenerys said.
"I can," I replied. "It's in their blood."
She glanced at me. "Sometimes I wonder if it's in ours too."
I didn't answer.
A runner approached from the lower stairs. "More freedmen have arrived from the eastern hills. They seek shelter."
"Open the east quarter," I said. "No more than a dozen to each house. Feed them. Give them clean water."
The runner bowed and left.
Daenerys leaned against the railing. "We should speak to the people soon. Let them know we're not abandoning them."
I nodded. "We will. Let Meereen breathe for a few more days. Then we show them what it means to live."
She turned, her silver hair catching the torchlight. "You always sound so certain."
"I'm not," I said. "But I act like I am. That's what matters."
We stood there a while longer, the sound of dragon wings high above us.
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