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Harry Potter and all of its characters belong to J.K. Rowling.
ASOIAF and all of its characters belong to GRRM
I own nothing but the original characters I make.
"Dialogue"
'Thoughts'
-Author notes-
Chapter 131: An Unexpected Welcome
Daenerys had not slept in three days.
The worry gnawed at her non-stop. It was a constant presence in the back of her mind that she could not shake.
Joffrey had vanished almost two weeks ago, and the memory of that morning still haunted her…the thunderous explosion that had torn through the Storm Dancer, the column of smoke rising into the sky, the frantic scramble of the crew as they fought to contain the flames.
His workshop had been destroyed. The cabin where he had conducted his experiments, where he had performed the ritual that was supposed to push him beyond human limits, was nothing but a smoldering ruin.
The crew had found nothing but wreckage…splintered wood, scorched metal, and the remnants of whatever alchemical components he had been using.
But no body. No sign of Joffrey. He had simply... vanished.
'Where are you?' she thought, her hands gripping the railing. 'What happened to you? Are you even alive?'
She had sent scouts in every direction, had questioned every sailor and soldier who might have seen something. But nothing…
It was like Joffrey Baratheon had been consumed by his own magic, and Daenerys had been left to wonder if she would ever see him again.
The phoenix had appeared to her after the explosion, and startled everyone on deck. It had landed on her head and stayed at her side since then.
But she could not understand its purpose nor communicate with the creature.
And if that was not enough, Drogon was missing too. Her dragon, her child, her greatest weapon…gone. She had felt the bond between them weaken over the past weeks, a strange distance that she could not explain. It was as if something had come between them.
She had tried to reach out to him, to call him back, but he had not responded.
She did not understand it fully. She did not understand much of what Joffrey had done, the magic he wielded, the powers he commanded.
But she knew that he was important…more important than she had ever imagined.
She had been forced to choose. The army could not wait. Mereen could not wait. The campaign against the slavers had to continue.
So she had left, sailing along the coast while her army marched overland. She had told herself it was the right decision, the practical decision. But every night, she lay awake, wondering if she would ever see him again.
"Your Grace."
Tyrion Lannister approached her, his short legs carrying him across the deck with surprising agility. He had been a constant presence during the voyage, his sharp wit and sharper mind a welcome distraction from her worries.
"We'll be in sight of Meereen within the hour," he said. "I thought you should know."
Daenerys nodded, her eyes still fixed on the horizon. "Thank you, Tyrion."
He stood beside her, following her gaze. "You're still worried about him."
"I am."
"Understandable. He's been gone for almost two weeks. No word, no sign. It's enough to make anyone nervous."
Daenerys turned to look at him, her expression sharp. "You don't think he's dead?"
Tyrion considered the question carefully. "I think my nephew is many things…arrogant, reckless, impossibly powerful, but dead is not one of them. That young man has more lives than a cat. If he were dead, I suspect we would know. The world would have felt it."
Daenerys wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe that Joffrey was fine, still out there, somewhere. But the doubt lingered, a cold knot in her chest that refused to dissolve.
"We'll make the last few miles on foot," she said, changing the subject. "I don't want to risk an ambush at sea. If the Masters of Meereen have prepared a trap, I would rather face it on solid ground, with my Unsullied at the front."
Tyrion nodded approvingly. "A wise decision. Your army will be more effective on land than on the water. And it will give us a chance to scout the city before committing to an assault."
'Meereen,' she thought. 'The third city of Slaver's Bay. The last one. After this…'
After this, she would be free to turn her attention to Westeros. To the Iron Throne…the Kingdom that had been stolen from her.
<><>
The army marched through the dusty plains, the walls of Meereen growing larger with each passing mile. Daenerys rode at the head of the column, her silver hair gleaming in the sun, her eyes fixed on the city ahead.
Something was wrong.
She could feel it in the air, a tension that was hard to describe. The city was too quiet, too still. There were no soldiers on the walls, no banners flying from the towers. It was as if Meereen had been abandoned.
"Your Grace." Jorah Mormont rode up beside her, his face grim. "Something's not right. I dont see any…wait-"
He stopped, his eyes widening.
Daenerys followed his gaze and felt her blood run cold.
Hundreds of wooden poles lined the road leading to the city gates. And on each pole, a body hung…naked, broken, blackening in the sun.
At first, Daenerys thought they were slaves, more victims of the Masters' cruelty, left there as a warning for her. But as she drew closer, she saw the fine robes, the golden chains, the rings on their fingers.
'Masters,' she realized. 'These are the Masters of Meereen.'
She reined in her horse, staring at the grisly spectacle. Hundreds of them…men and even some women hanging from the poles, their bodies twisted in agony, their eyes glassy and dead.
"By the Seven," Jorah breathed. "Who could have done this?"
Daenerys could not answer. She was staring at the bodies, her mind racing. The Masters of Meereen had been crucified. Someone had turned their own cruelty against them.
But who?
"Your Grace!" A scout rode up, his face pale. "There's one still alive! At the far end of the line!"
Daenerys spurred her horse forward, her heart pounding. She reached the end of the line and saw him…an old man, his body broken, his breath rattling in his chest. He was barely alive, his eyes fluttering, his lips moving soundlessly.
She dismounted and knelt beside him. "Who did this?" she demanded. "Who crucified you?"
The old man's eyes focused on her face, and a flicker of recognition passed through them. He tried to speak, his voice barely more than a whisper.
"Demon..." he breathed. "The demon... came... black wings... fire... and death..."
His eyes went wide, and then they went still.
Daenerys stood slowly, her mind churning.
She looked up at the city gates and saw them…the massive doors were gone, reduced to ash and slag. The walls were blackened, scorched by flames.
And beyond the walls, she could see the damage…buildings collapsed, towers toppled, streets littered with rubble.
And then she heard it…a sharp, piercing cry that cut through the air like a blade. She looked up and saw a flash of red and gold, a burst of flame that seemed to dance across the sky.
Fawkes.
The phoenix had been following them for weeks, ever since Joffrey's disappearance. Even when she asked, the bird would not leave her side. He stayed close, watching, waiting, as if he knew something she did not.
Now he was flying toward the city, his wings beating furiously, his cries growing louder.
"Fawkes!" Daenerys called. "Fawkes, come back!"
But the phoenix did not listen. He soared over the walls, disappearing into the city beyond.
And then, as she was looking at the sky for the phoenix…she saw it.
Drogon.
The black dragon was resting on top of the Great Pyramid, his massive form curled around the structure like a serpent guarding its treasure.
His eyes were closed, his chest rising and falling with slow, steady breaths. He was sleeping, peaceful and content.
"Drogon!" Daenerys's voice cracked with emotion. "That's Drogon!. He is Mereen."
But before she could process the sight of her missing dragon, a scout rode up to her, his face pale with shock.
"Your Grace!" the scout called out, his voice trembling. "Riders are approaching from the city! Hundreds of them!"
Daenerys narrowed her eyes. "Who are they? Mercenaries? The Masters' army?"
The scout shook his head, his eyes wide with disbelief. "No, Your Grace. They are... they are Dothraki. There is a full khalasar out there, riding in formation. But they are not attacking. They are just... waiting for us to approach."
Daenerys felt her blood run cold. "Dothraki?! Here?...in Meereen?" That made no sense.
Dothraki have no means to conquer a city with high stone walls like Meereen. Their horses and weapons are only good for combat on an open field, not for a siege.
Also, Dothraki are not known for taking over cities and guarding them. They are nomads. They attack, pillage, and leave. They don't stay in one place for too long.
"What do you mean, waiting for us?" Jorah demanded, his hand on his sword. "Dothraki do not wait. They attack. They ride and kill, burn and leave. That is what they do."
"I know that, Ser Jorah," the Usullied scout said. "But these ones... they are different. They are in ranks, like soldiers. Their weapons are sheathed. They are not charging. They are just... watching us."
Daenerys exchanged a glance with Tyrion, who had ridden up beside her. His mismatched eyes were fixed on the distant column of riders, his expression unreadable.
"This is not right," Tyrion said slowly. "Dothraki do not form ranks. They do not wait. They do not behave like soldiers. Something has changed. Something has happened to them."
Daenerys spurred her horse forward, her heart pounding. "I need to see them. I need to understand what is happening."
The army advanced cautiously, the Unsullied forming a shield wall, her own Dothraki riders flanking them. Daenerys rode at the head, her eyes fixed on the column of riders ahead.
She saw them now…hundreds of Dothraki, perhaps thousands, mounted on their fierce horses, their long braids adorned with bells. They were arrayed in disciplined ranks, their arakhs sheathed, their hands raised in gestures of peace. They were guarding the gates of Meereen.
Daenerys stared, unable to comprehend what she was seeing. Dothraki were considered the scourge of Essos, the terror of the plains. They did not stand watch over cities.
"Is this a trick?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper. "Are they waiting for us to lower our guard before they attack?"
Jorah shook his head slowly. "I have never seen Dothraki behave like this, Khaleesi. Ever. This is... this is not their way."
One of the riders separated from the column and approached them at a steady pace. He was a scarred veteran with a long braid and a fierce expression, but his weapons were sheathed, and his hands were raised.
He reined in his horse a few paces from Daenerys and inclined his head.
"Dragon Queen," he said, his voice rough with the accent of the Dothraki Sea. "You are welcome in Meereen. The Great Khal has been waiting for you."
Daenerys stared at him, her mind racing. A Great Khal? Here? In Meereen?
"The Great Khal," she repeated, her voice carefully neutral. "Who is this Great Khal? The Dothraki do not have a single leader. They are divided into many khalasars."
Rhakaro's weathered face showed a hint of pride. "He is the Khal of Khals. The one who will unite us all. He showed us a new way, a better way. He rules with strength and wisdom, and he has been waiting for your arrival."
Daenerys's mind churned. A Khal of Khals. A leader who united the Dothraki. That was unheard of. The Dothraki had never been united under a single ruler. They were too wild, too independent, too fierce.
"How?" she asked, her voice sharp. "How did he unite you?"
Rhakaro's eyes flickered with respect. "He killed the old Khals who would not follow. He showed the rest of us that there is more to life than plunder and slaves. He showed us that strength can be used for more than destruction. He showed us a new path." He paused, then added, "And those who refused to follow him are dead."
Daenerys was silent for a long moment, processing what she had just heard.
Who could do such a thing?
She thought of the destroyed gates, the dragon resting on the pyramid, the phoenix that had flown into the city.
One person came to her mind.
'Joffrey,' she thought, the name rising unbidden in her mind. 'This has to be Joffrey.' There was no other logical answer.
Drogon would not follow any random Dothraki Khal.
But this still left many questions unanswered. How did Joffrey get here before them, and how did he end up in charge of a Dothraki host?.
"Take me to him," she said, her voice firm. "I want to see this Great Khal."
Rhakaro nodded and turned his horse. "Follow me, Dragon Queen. He is in the Great Pyramid. He has been expecting you for some time."
Daenerys raised her hand to signal the army. "Advance! But stay alert! Watch for any signs of treachery!"
<><>
The streets of Meereen were a revelation.
Daenerys had expected chaos, destruction, and suffering. Instead, she found order.
The debris had been cleared, the fires extinguished.
People walked the streets with purpose, their faces no longer marked by fear. Some wore the rags of slaves, others the fine robes of merchants, but all of them moved with the same energy.
It was as if the city had been reborn.
But what surprised her most was what she saw working alongside the freed slaves. Former Masters…men and women in the fine robes of the ruling class were helping to rebuild the city. They carried stones, cleared rubble, and worked alongside the people they had once enslaved.
Tyrion rode up beside her, his eyes taking in the scene with sharp interest. "It appears this new ruler has a more... pragmatic approach to conquest than you do. He killed the ones who crucified the children, but he spared those who were willing to change. And he gave them a choice: work to rebuild the city, or join their former colleagues on the crosses outside the walls."
One of the working men paused to look at her, a former slave with a scarred face. He studied her for a moment, then recognition dawned on his face.
"You are the one they call Dragon Queen, right?" he said. "The Breaker of Chains. We heard about what you did in Astapor."
"I am," Daenerys said. " But it looks like your chains no longer need to be broken. Tell me, who is responsible for this? Who freed you?"
The man's face broke into a smile. "The Dothraki call him the Great Khal, but Masters called him something else…"
"What did they call him?"
"The Sorcerer Prince." The old man responded.
"I knew it!" Tyrion exclaimed.
"So, it is him…" Jorah huffed before glancing at Daenerys. "Your Grace."
Daenerys smiled. "Tell me…what did he do?"
"He came to us on a dragon," He pointed at Drogon, who was still resting on top of the pyramid. "That one over there."
"He killed the Masters who crucified the children. He freed us all. He established a council, distributed food, and created order out of chaos. He gave us hope, Dragon Queen. After all these years, he gave us hope that we could have a future."
Daenerys smiled. "He did all of that?"
The old man nodded.
"But some of the Masters still live," she said, gesturing to the former nobles working alongside the freed slaves. "Why did he spare them?"
The man shrugged. "He said those who were willing to change could live. Those who refused would die. Most chose to live. A few chose to die." He gestured toward the crosses outside the gates. "They are still hanging there. A reminder to anyone who would enslave others."
Daenerys nodded slowly, understanding dawning on her. This Sorcerer Prince had not simply freed the slaves and executed all the Masters. He had given the Masters a choice.
'Should I have done the same?' Daenerys wondered.
She looked up at the Great Pyramid. The answers she sought were in that building.
"Let's go. I have much to discuss with him."
Daenerys dismounted and climbed the steps. She did not know what had happened to Joffrey, what had changed him, but she was eager to find out.
The great hall was vast and luxurious beyond measure, its marble floors polished to a mirror shine, its walls adorned with tapestries depicting the history of Meereen.
And at the far end of the hall, standing before a window that looked out over the city, was Joffrey.
He turned as she entered, his green eyes meeting hers.
Daenerys felt her breath catch in her throat. He looked different…older, harder, more…powerful.
His long blonde hair was wild and unkempt, his clothes were simple white robes, and there was a confidence in his posture that had not been there before.
But it was still him. Still Joffrey.
She spotted the figure of Fawkes flying above them.
'So that's why you took off without a warning.' She thought while looking at the mischievous phoenix.
"Daenerys," he said, his voice soft. "You came."
She walked toward him, her footsteps echoing in the chamber. "I came," she said. "But I did not expect to find you here of all places. We have been looking for you…for the past two weeks since you disappeared. I wasn't even sure if you were alive."
"I'm sorry if I have caused you trouble, but I am alive," he said. "More alive than I have ever been."
She stopped a few feet from him, close enough to see the details of his face…the sharpness of his cheekbones, the intensity of his eyes, the slight smile that played at the corners of his mouth.
"What happened to you?" she asked. "Where did you go? What did you do?"
He was silent for a moment, his eyes searching hers. Then he began to speak…
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