King's Landing

The Red Keep

King Bran the Broken sat in his wheelchair on a balcony in the uppermost levels of the Red Keep, with Ser Podrick standing behind him slightly to his right. Bran looked through the stone arcade that was before him and to the cityscape ahead of him, where construction was taking place over much of the city. There were wooden stilts and construction sites all over the city, with new buildings being erected, and old homes being salvaged as much as possible. The sky was clear and blue, with not a single cloud in sight. The air was cool and chilly, yet far warmer than what Bran was used to up in the North. The nineteen year old King did not particularly miss the cold winds of the North, or the occasional blasts of blizzards that swept snow off the rooftops of his old home.

This was the farthest south Bran had ever traveled, in person, that is. He had used his greensight to witness the moment Jon Snow was born, in the Tower of Joy which was located on the borderlands between the Reach and Dorne. It was one of his most strenuous and vivid visions of the past he witnessed, even with the help of the preceding Three-Eyed Raven. The truth about the man who he thought was his brother for his whole life, who is actually his cousin and the son of one of the most important figures in recent history had shaken Bran to his core. It was priceless knowledge, knowledge that changed the world and the fate of Westeros. This was his life now - being able to know all things, to see all things, and it was a great responsibility. Slowly but surely, Bran could feel his normal self coming back. He almost forgot what he used to be like, what his personality was like from when he was a child.

After being pushed out the window of the tower by Jaime Lannister almost a decade ago, it changed his outlook on life. It seemed grimmer and filled with more despair. Upon discovering his abilities, he almost felt even worse. Why him? Why did he become the next Three-Eyed Raven? It surely changed the relationships he had with people in recent years - like with his sisters. It strained relationships he had with people, and the one he thought about the most was a young woman that saved his life countless times during his journey beyond the wall. It was the young woman who brought him back to the Wall, back to Winterfell, back to safety.

"Your grace." spoke up a voice, interrupting Bran's calm trance. He craned his neck to see Tyrion Lannister approach on the balcony.

"Yes?"

"I have found a credible candidate for the position of Master of Whispers." said Tyrion, looking into the eyes of the King. Bran nodded slowly. "She is a member of the ruling Council of the Iron Bank. It would be wise to have one of their members in your royal court, due to the debt issues."

"Any news about Meera?" asked Bran, quickly changing the subject. Tyrion battered his eyelids, seemingly surprised that the King completely ignored his previous statement. However, that was something he was used to. Kings and Queens typically ignored him in the past.

"Your grace, forgive me," stammered Tyrion, holding his hands behind his back as he stood to the right of Bran, "but I do not think it would be best to not truly focus on matters pertaining to the Realm."

"I can focus on more than one thing." said Bran, slowly turning his head to look at Tyrion, "But yes, I will meet with your candidate of choice for Master of Whispers." Tyrion nodded and smiled gratefully to the King.

"She will be here by this evening and I've set up a meeting to introduce her to you tomorrow morning." Tyrion was about to leave the King to enjoy the rest of his day in peace and quiet, but Bran held out his hand to Tyrion to stop him. "Yes, your grace?"

"I've had visions that the Unsullied are traveling far from Westeros - to the Isle of Naath." Tyrion froze for a moment, thinking about Naath. That was the birthplace of Missandei, best friend of Daenerys who was killed by Cersei atop the gate of King's Landing. He knew that she and Greyworm were very close, and it wasn't surprising that that's where he was traveling.

"That's one less thing to worry about then." nodded Tyrion.

"Perhaps Jon could come back." Bran glanced at Tyrion, "He is missed, and would be of great service for the Realm - in the Realm, not beyond it."

"With all due respect, I don't think that's a good idea, your grace." retorted Tyrion lightly, "The Greyjoys and Martells would start trouble - they won't forgive and forget. It hasn't even been two months since the end of the war-"

"I know." said Bran, "You are right…" the young Stark lowered his head as he rubbed his hands together slowly. Tyrion could see the minimal bit of sadness in the King. It seemed that his emotions were beginning to return, that he was finally starting to show emotions like a regular person.

"Perhaps we can make an exception for the coronation." suggested Tyrion, "I'll see what I can do, your grace." Bran looked up and donned a small smile to the Hand.

"I'd like that."

Meereen

Great Pyramid

Citizens of Meereen had gone into the basements and subterranean levels of their homes upon hearing word from their regent ruler that a dragon was on its way. Now, the dragon had arrived, and many people remembered the black beast. Drogon circled over the Great Temple of Meereen, letting out high pitched roars. They could be heard all across the massive city, and all could hear the grief and sorrow in his screeches.

"This is a technique not practiced by many modern priests." said the soft voiced Red Priestess, named Kinvara. She had long black hair and brown eyes, wearing a deep red gown, standing over a stone altar with Daario Naharis in a dimly lit chamber. There were Unsullied soldiers standing around the perimeter of the empty, boxy, chamber, standing with their spears and shields. On the stone altar was the corpse of Daenerys Targaryen. Her skin was extremely pale, thin, and strands of hair easily fell out of her scalp. Daario had his hand on Daenerys' hand that was at her side, staring at her closed eyes, hoping for them to open.

"But it is possible, correct?" whispered Daario.

"Of course. Anything is possible, my Lord. I am most astounded that her body has not decomposed." said Kinvara, taking in a deep breath. She put her right hand on the corpse's chest where the stab wound was located. The knife was removed from her body, and her black dress smelled of dried blood. Kinvara then put her left hand on the corpse's forehead, closing her own eyes.

…

Drogon continued to fly over the Great Temple, letting out long screeches as he circled around. There wasn't a single cloud in the sky, with the sun beating hard on his scaly back, neck, and face. He could feel his inner instincts tingling throughout his entire body, sensing warmth and love in his heart. It was a feeling he hadn't felt in weeks… ever since the loss of his mother. But there was more to the feeling. A change in his body, a rumbling in his lower gut.

The winged beast looked down instinctively to the base of the pyramid, seeing a platform with an opened cave going into the bottom of the pyramid. There were bits of broken bricks and stone scattered around the entryway to the cave, and large footprints of beasts. Drogon remembered the cave… he remembered what was kept in there many years ago… The dragon began to descend towards the cave, beating his wings loudly as he approached the sandy ground. Dust and sand flew into the air as Drogon landed before the cave, which he could barely fit in. The dragon peeked his head in, and managed to slip inside…

…

Daario Naharis watched with nervousness as Kinvara whispered in old Valyrian, with her hands on the corpse of Daenerys. Her left hand was on the dead Queen's forehead, and the other on her chest where her stab wound was. Daario had never seen someone be revived, and surely didn't believe it could happen. However, things were different now. He heard tales of how powerful the priestesses from Asshai are, and how influential their magic can be.

There were echoes of a roar coming from the darkest halls in the chamber, and Kinvara opened her eyes. She and Daario looked at one another, both recognizing it to be the roar of Drogon. Kinvara lowered her head and closed her eyes again, repeating the Valyrian phrase, this time a bit louder than a whisper.

Daario slowly looked down at his hand which was still atop of Daenerys' hand, and could feel the coldness going away. He then lifted his eyes to look at Kinvara, where she began to stand straight, and recite the phrase loudly. A gasp of breath inhaled from the corpse, and Daario shot a shocked look at Daenerys. The silver haired woman's eyes opened, and she gasped for air. Kinvara stood back, removing her hands from the now breathing Daenerys Targaryen.

Daenerys' eyes were wide and filled with emotion, with tears beginning to swell, and she first saw Daario. She slowly got up, and Daario helped her sit up. The two stared at one another, and Dany tried to catch her breath. A few tears rolled down her cheeks, and she immediately looked down at her chest. She put her hand where she was stabbed through her dress, and felt a little bit of pain.

"Don't do that." spoke Daario. Dany looked up quickly, and then turned to the left to see Kinvara standing with a smile on her face. She was at a loss for words, unsure what to say first, or who to speak to first. Daenerys remembered the both of them, and looked at Daario once more. Daario's eyes became reddened with emotion as well, as he let out a chuckle of disbelief. Daenerys wrapped her arms around Daario, pulling him in for a close hug. She rested her chin on his shoulder, and let out more tears, unable to hold them back.

"You're okay…" whispered Daario, burying his nose into her hair and kissed her ear, "You're safe now."

…

Braavos

The Iron Bank

"The Iron Throne is fifteen million gold pieces in debt. It's time we stop loaning them money." said a bald man seated at a long table in a brightly lit chamber with three other individuals.

"Well, we're lucky. The Iron Throne doesn't exist anymore." replied an older man, who had white hair and a white beard. He and the other man both wore dark gray robes with coppery linings on their shoulders and sleeves. The third individual at the table was an older woman with gray hair that scraped her shoulders perfectly straight, with white streaks beginning from the left temple of her head. She wore a fitted gray dress, but had white linings and a high collar around her neck.

"The Westerosi Crown still exists." said the older woman, who was a member of the Iron Bank Council. The three were the directors and leaders of the largest financial institution in the entire known world. "We need to press the Stark King for repayment because we have lost much money from how much our predecessors invested there."

"I don't know how they didn't see the devastation of King's Landing coming." said the youngest of the three, the bald man, "I was certain the Dragon Queen would win and resolve this debt."

"No person nor dragon would be able to repay what we're asking." said the white haired man, "I think it would be reasonable to distribute the debt across each of the Seven Kingdoms."

"We'd face resistance from House Stark's Queen in northern Westeros." said the bald man. The woman stood up,

"The entire Golden Company is gone. The Dothraki are somewhere in Westeros. The Unsullied are also mostly gone. Westeros has stumbled into wars with itself for the past ten years - they will repay us."

"What are you suggesting, Councilor Demetriou?" asked the white haired man, "That we wage war with Westeros? Like you said, all available infantry are gone at the moment."

"We will set up a summit with the leaders of the nine Free Cities to discuss further plans on how to handle the Westerosi." said Councilor Demetriou to the two other men; the bald Councilor Darvi, and the white haired Councilor Juntys, "We will strain the continent, and squeeze out every bit of gold we can from their bloodied hands."

Meereen

Great Pyramid

Daenerys Targaryen sat in a black silk robe in a plush chair in a large bedroom that overlooked the cityscape of Meereen from the apex of the Great Temple. She was having her hair brushed by a handmaiden who had tan skin and long black hair, with a sigil of House Targaryen on a silver necklace. Daenerys sat completely still, occasionally glancing down at her own hands which were slightly pale but were slowly returning to their normal color. Each time she closed her eyes longingly, she could see the eyes of Jon Snow… the last look he gave her… as he drove a knife into her heart. She could not believe she was alive, and a thousand thoughts were racing through her mind each minute.

Why did Jon betray her? Why did he stab her? Why did Tyrion betray her? She lost so many people around her. Her best friend, her closest advisor and most trusted protector, her two dragons, most of her Khalasar, most of her Unsullied - she lost so much. She could still feel the cold sharp pain of the cold knife in her heart. Was it still there? Daenerys glanced down, touching her chest, but there was nothing there but a scar. She could still feel a bit of pain and bruising of where the scar had formed, and gulped nervously.

She heard a door open behind her and quickly turned her head, startling the handmaiden. Daario entered the room with a tray in his hands, and on the tray was a large platter of food. There were steamed vegetables, grilled meat, some rice, and a glass of white wine.

"Your grace." greeted Daario warmly, setting the tray on an end-table beside Daenerys. Daenerys smiled kindly, reaching out her hand to his and looked up at him. His face hadn't changed much, perhaps he lost a few extra pounds, his face was slimmer. His beard was still bushy, just as she remembered, and his hair was long as well.

"How is this happening? How am I here?" asked Daenerys quietly, furrowing her brows, "Is this real?"

"It is." nodded Daario, kneeling beside Daenerys. He nodded to the handmaiden, dismissing her, and she quickly left the chamber. "Your son brought you here." Drogon thought Dany instantly. She felt a worried sickness feeling in her stomach.

"Where is he?" she immediately stood up, feeling a sharp pain in her chest, and she winced.

"Easy." stood Daario, "He's around. He brought you to me and Kinvara, the Red Priestess. He just - he just knew…" Daenerys began to calm down, and slow her breathing. She feared the worst for her last remaining child after what happened to both Viserion and then Rhaegal. Daenerys felt more comfortable and at ease now as Daario held both her hands, staring deeply into her eyes.

"Now, tell me everything…" there was an echo of a roar coming from outside, and Daenerys' eyes lit up. She walked over to the balcony, placing her hands on the stone railing and taking in a deep breath as she stood in the warm sunlight. The sun was beginning to set at the far west, lowering behind a low range of mountains.

"I must see Drogon first." Daenerys turned her head to look at Daario, "He is close, I can feel it."

"My troops spotted him at the western side of the pyramid, at the entrance to the ancient dungeons." said Daario, and Daenerys knew instantly where he was speaking of.

...

A group of twenty Unsullied soldiers guided both Daario and Daenerys to the western side of the base of the pyramid, with the setting sun shining its light on the circular entrance of the cave-like dungeon. The stones of the pyramid were a bright pearl color as the sun shone on them, reflecting brightly back at those who looked at them. The Unsullied didn't enter the dungeon, but one of them gave Daario a lit torch. Daario turned to Daenerys,

"You should probably go in first." he said. Daenerys felt queasy, but also excited. She took the torch, and nodded. The Dragon Queen gulped nervously and headed down the steps, one by one, with the sunlight getting dimmer and dimmer as she continued onward.

"Drogon?" called out Daenerys, with Daario following behind. There was a loud chirping sound coming from within the darkness of the dungeon, it was Drogon. Daenerys' heart began to race, and she started to walk faster down the immense corridor.

Daenerys slid to a stop upon seeing two eyes in the darkness, reflecting the torch that was in her hand.

"Drogon…" said Daenerys, taking a few steps closer, beginning to illuminate the massive beast. Drogon reared up, and then quickly lowered his head to sniff Daenerys. The dragon let out quiet yet high pitched whines, nudging his massive snout up against the woman. Daenerys let out a laugh and began to cry, caressing the side of Drogon's snout.

"Blood of my blood…" whispered Dany as she kept her hand on Drogon's snout. The dragon began to purr in a deep rumble, but then withdrew his head from Dany's touch. Daenerys looked up, and the dragon looked downward. Daenerys followed Drogon's eyes, and her jaw dropped upon seeing a clutch of three eggs beside his torso. He was laying down with his tail curled around the eggs, and Daenerys looked up at Drogon. The dragon slowly blinked and lowered its head, allowing Daenerys to approach the eggs.

"Oh my goodness…" muttered Daenerys, bringing the torch closer to the eggs. They were each different colors, like her children before them; dark violet, gold, and red. She turned her head to look at Daario who could clearly see it all. "I didn't think it was possible…"

"Nothing is impossible…" muttered Daario in shock, "Grandmother of dragons." smirked the handsome man. Daenerys pressed her lips together but chuckled at his sarcastic remark. She turned to look at the eggs again, and knelt in front of them. Drogon moved his tail so Daenerys could approach them, and she touched them. They were rigid and rough, scaly and warm. She could sense the life within the eggs… three new dragons…