How do you think I should choose?" Dany asked Jorah in return.
Possessing the only three dragons left in the world, no matter how glorious the future might be, she still had to lie low for now.
Keeping a low profile and quietly farming was the true path to survival. Dragging around three baby dragons that could be butchered at any moment and recklessly showing off would be genuine brain damage.
Jorah thought for a moment, then said, "There isn't enough food here—by that I mean the blood and flesh required for three dragons to grow. It's said that Aegon's Balerion could swallow an entire wild bull in one bite, or even the woolly mammoths that roam the frozen wastelands in legend.
With the appetite of hatchlings, in less than a year they would eat all the horses in Qarth clean—and a single year is nowhere near enough for young dragons to grow into true great dragons."
Dany lifted Dahei out of the basket on her back and into her arms, trying to poke her little finger into his mouth. The scalding slime inside burned her skin with a faint sting, yet she couldn't even get past his throat.
When would he ever be able to swallow a woolly mammoth in one bite?
"Didn't I just send Rakharo to look for prey nearby?" she said, lowering her head as she teased the constantly struggling Dahei.
"Along the way, have we encountered any sand lizards larger than dirt dogs?" Jorah countered. "Carnivores live off herbivores. The Red Waste doesn't have the environment to sustain gentle prey animals."
"Dragons shouldn't rely on being fed by others. Starting tomorrow, I'll train them to hunt on their own," Dany said.
"Without prey, what's the use of even the finest hunting skills?" Jorah said, speechless.
"I'm not expecting the three of them to become another Balerion here. As long as they become powerful predators, they won't be easily killed by humans who covet them, fear them, or hate them."
Her eyes gleamed as Dany turned to the knight and said in an unreadable tone, "Viserys once told me that the nobles and common folk of Westeros secretly sew three-headed dragon banners in their homes, hoping for the return of the true dragon. What do you think?"
Jorah gave a bitter smile. "Princess, I dare not deceive you. The great lords are obsessed with the game of power. The lesser lords and merchants care far more about fine wine, women, and tourneys that represent honor.
"As for the common people, all they wish for is that every year be summer—better yet, that the legendary 'Ever-Summer' arrive: orchards heavy with fruit, fields filled with golden wheat and sweet melons.
"And that their lord be a bit more merciful—don't forcibly take their wives and daughters, don't use their sons as archery targets.
"Kings? They don't care at all. And even if they did, it would be useless, because their lives have no intersection with the king's."
"So even if I leave this place, where could I go?" Dany spread her hands, looking indifferent. "I'm not like Viserys… he wasn't simply naive—he had no choice but to arm himself with lies.
"No matter what I want, once the usurper learns that the last Targaryen has hatched dragons, he will definitely send the most powerful and ruthless assassins to hunt me and my dragons down.
"I wandered in Braavos for several years. I know it's the strongest and most prosperous of the Free Cities—and I also know that the world's deadliest assassins live there: the Faceless Men.
"'All men must die.' As long as the price is right, they can kill anyone. It's said they've never failed.
"The price to kill me would surely be the highest tier—but no matter how expensive, what does it matter to a king?"
Jorah frowned in thought for a moment, then comforted her. "The usurper probably won't send the Faceless Men after you. The wine merchant who tried to poison you last time wasn't one of them."
"Why are you so sure? I have dragons now—it's different," Dany said.
Because I'm here!
Jorah thought silently.
Dany had watched Game of Thrones and remembered a very important plot point: when King Robert learned that Dany was pregnant, he summoned the small council to discuss permanently resolving the matter of the former royal house. Because he strongly opposed killing women and children, Ned even fell out with his old friend and angrily resigned as Hand of the King.
That should have happened a year ago. And just three months earlier, Dany had nearly been poisoned in Vaes Dothrak.
That small council meeting meant different things to different people. To King Robert and Hand Eddard, it was a discussion of "whether to kill the remaining Targaryens." To the king and the other councilors, however, it was a meeting on "how to kill Daenerys Targaryen and her bastard."
Among them, some even proposed hiring the Faceless Men—and that decision nearly passed.
It was only because Robert was a spendthrift king with an empty treasury and crushing debt that Littlefinger, as master of coin, insisted on choosing a cheaper method.
Jorah Mormont!
That's right—the seemingly honest, burly man standing right in front of her.
He was a plant, responsible for gathering intelligence on Dany and killing her if necessary—the King's Landing spy.
But Dany wasn't worried about Jorah harming her. Setting aside unreliable emotional factors, even from a standpoint of利益, Jorah had no reason to betray her.
The price offered by King's Landing was the lifting of the bounty on Jorah's head and the restoration of his title as Lord of Bear Island.
Compared to the merit of saving Dany as a dragonrider, that was worth shit.
Not only was the title of Lord of Bear Island itself of little value, Jorah hadn't actually lost the Mormont lands either—his aunt had succeeded him as ruler.
It was nothing more than meat stewing in the same pot.
In fact, without Jorah's protection—or if he truly wanted her dead—Daenerys would have died long ago.
The key question was: if those people in King's Landing learned that Jorah was unreliable, would they send the Faceless Men next?
In the original storyline, due to political chaos, new kings rose one after another, only to fall in quick succession, and the people in King's Landing seemed to forget about Dany altogether.
But was she really going to stake her life on an unreliable "original plot"?
"The Faceless Men aren't invincible assassins," Jorah said softly in reassurance. "The Targaryen kings of old were never without enemies, yet none of them died at the hands of the Faceless Men. To ordinary people they are legends, but when facing the Kingsguard—who are legends themselves—their tricks aren't nearly as effective." He straightened and promised firmly, "Have you forgotten? I'm Kingsguard too—your Queen's Guard!"
If it were the "White Bull" or the "Sword of the Morning" saying this to me, I might actually believe it—but you, a second-rate hack…
Jorah was a strong knight, no doubt, but that didn't necessarily make him a qualified bodyguard.
"Mm. With you here, I feel very reassured," Dany said, giving him an encouraging smile. "Still, let's stay here for a while longer if we can."
She then reached out in invitation, and the two of them walked up the white tower by the city gate, discussing the arrangements for White Cloud City's defenses as they climbed.
When they reached the top, Dany tossed the three dragons into the sky, letting them screech as they soared.
Several days passed. After the black dragon, the white dragon and the green dragon also learned to fly and breathe dragonfire.
The three vividly colored young dragons chased one another beneath the blue sky. Sunlight passed through their thin, translucent wings, refracting into hazy bands of light—breathtakingly beautiful.
"Dahei learned to fly first. He was only seven days old then. How does that compare to the great dragons of House Targaryen?" Dany watched the black dragon circling in the sky, her heart swelling with pride.
"I don't really know. If there were a maester who studied dragons…" Jorah shook his head, then asked in confusion, "But why give them such crude names? Aegon's dragon was called Balerion, Visenya's was Vhagar, Rhaenys's was Meraxes—all names of ancient Valyrian gods."
Dany answered frankly. "My dragons and I are still too weak. I don't want overly aggressive names to draw unnecessary attention.
"I could also name them after my ancestors—like Rhaegar or Viserys—but I want to draw a clear line between myself and the former Targaryens."
"Why?" Jorah asked in shock.
In this era, in this world, any noble family with even a bit of history took pride in their great ancestors—some even reused the same ancestral name for generations upon generations.
Like the countless Brandons of House Stark, or the many Aegons and Rhaenys of House Targaryen.
Even the name Daenerys evolved from the Maiden of Ten Thousand Days, Daenys, with only one or two letters changed. More than a hundred years ago, a Targaryen princess who married into Dorne was also named Daenerys.
"I'm not the same as them."
The foundation of the former Targaryens was the Targaryen house itself. For the current Dany, her dragons were her children, the Dothraki were her people, and the name Targaryen brought her nothing but burden and danger.
"Enough about me." She changed the subject, smiling at Jorah. "I know everything about you now, but I know very little about your story. Tell me about yourself."
"Me?" Jorah said stiffly. "What do you want to know?"
"You were the Lord of Bear Island in the North. How did you end up on the continent of Essos, tens of thousands of li away?" Dany turned her head, watching the dragons fly as she spoke softly. "You seem very knowledgeable about jewels—their value and such. Does Bear Island have gem mines?"
"If Bear Island truly had mines, I wouldn't be wandering in exile," the knight said with a bitter smile.
He picked up a milky white stone from the ground and used it to sketch a rough map of Westeros on the stone floor by the tower window.
"Look. This is Bear Island. It lies deep in the Bay of Ice, nearly as far from the Wall as it is from the rest of the North.
"It's a beautiful yet primitive place—a hundred-kilometer-deep island, with gnarled old oaks, towering ancient pines, and tart-sweet hawthorn forests that bloom across the hills in spring.
"But it's far too remote… and very poor.
"Unlike other nobles' stone castles, my family's hall was built of massive timbers. There were no tall outer walls—just a ring of fencing.
"Most of my people lived by fishing, barely scraping by. There was no trade, no way to collect significant taxes.
"Our only specialty was bears—but where are there no bears?
"Merchants came maybe once every few years, bringing cloth, bronze goods, ceramics, spices, and other daily necessities, and taking furs in exchange—almost pure barter.
"Despite how barren and dull it was, I was always used to living there. And I never lacked women—fisherwomen and peasant girls never refused their lord. Princess, I never used force.
"Before I even came of age, my father chose a bride for me—a girl from Deepwood Motte on the neighboring island, a Glover.
"I don't know if I truly loved her, and that shames me. She was plain in appearance, but kind of heart.
"In ten years of marriage, she miscarried three times. After the last, she never recovered, and not long after… she died."
...
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Here are a few fan-fic titles that I've recently uploaded on my Patreon:
"Game of Thrones: Dragon Prince"
"Game of Thrones: Political Life"
"Game of Thrones: Holy Flame"
"The Game of Thrones Upgrade System"
"Game of Thrones: Lannister Kingdom"
"Game of Thrones: Godzilla vs. Dragons"
"Game of Thrones: Ruler of the Deep Seas "
"Game of Thrones The Glory of a Knight"
"Game of Thrones: The Most Powerful Dragon Queen"
" Game of Thrones: From the Elden Lord to the Young Wolf"
"Game of Thrones: Rise of a Lord with the Army-Building System"
(End Chapter)