Word spread fast.
Not through town criers or royal decrees, but through murmurs, gasps, and widened eyes in the alleys and market squares. The fighting pits of Meereen had reopened — but not for blood sport. Not for cheers or coin.
For retribution.
The first public execution was set at dusk.
The large stone amphitheater had once echoed with cries of slaves made to fight for their lives. Now, it was the criminals who would bleed — and be devoured.
The people came slowly at first. Curious. Suspicious. But by sunset, the stands were nearly full.
Daenerys sat atop the Queen's Box, a simple golden circlet on her brow. Aelya stood beside her, hands folded behind her back, wearing a midnight cloak with no sigils.
"Do you think this will scare them?" Daenerys asked quietly.
"No," Aelya said. "But it will remind them we are not prey."
A roar echoed through the pit.
Vaedron.
He stood atop a stone arch near the eastern gate, wings tucked neatly, his copper-blue scales shimmering in the dying light. Beside him, the trio of dragons perched in a staggered line — Tiraxes, Nyxarys, and Sorynth — smaller, but just as dangerous.
The gates opened.
The first criminal was dragged forward. A man with hollow eyes and golden threads sewn into his tunic — a known harpy supporter. Caught planting blades beneath a water cart. No trial, no delay.
"This man sought to murder innocents," Daenerys announced to the crowd. "He fed from the hand of enemies who seek to break this city apart."
"Let justice be done," Aelya added.
Vaedron leapt down.
The man's screams echoed once — then were cut off by the crash of jaws.
Gasps filled the stands, but no one moved.
Tiraxes snarled and paced the pit, dragging part of the corpse away. Sorynth followed him, wings twitching. Nyxarys landed on the edge of the arena wall, staring at the crowd like she was choosing her next meal.
"This is barbaric," a Meereenese merchant whispered behind his scarf.
Aelya turned her head. "Stay honest. Stay safe."
The executions continued.
Two more harpy operatives — one caught trying to poison the grain stores, another hiding blades beneath merchant stalls — were presented.
This time, Daenerys remained quiet.
Aelya spoke instead.
"No more shadows. No more masks. You want to kill in silence? Then die in the open."
Nyxarys and Sorynth struck together, their coordination flawless. Tiraxes came in late, claiming what was left.
The crowd stayed. They didn't cheer. But they didn't flee either.
Back at the palace, Barristan met them in the strategy hall.
"You'll draw anger," he said. "But you've already drawn blood. It may be too late for mercy."
"There's no mercy for those who'd see us dead," Aelya replied.
"They'll try to make you the villain."
"Let them try. I'll burn the script."
Outside the palace, walls were repainted. The red handprint of the Harpy was scrubbed from every alley. The Unsullied had begun wearing crimson sashes tied around their spears — a mark of open defiance against the secret enemy.
Jorah returned with news by late evening.
"They've begun meeting in the catacombs beneath the city. But we've already infiltrated."
Aelya handed him a list. "Start pulling names. Quietly. No more leniency."
As night fell, the dragons roared into the dark, their calls echoing like thunder.
And Meereen slept lightly, under wings.
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