In Meereen…

Queen Daenerys Targaryen sat in the spectator's seat at the top of the pit to observe the first day of the Great Games at the Daznak's Pit, the greatest of the fighting pits in Meereen with an open seat between her and Missandei. Her intended betrothed, Hizdahr zo Loraq, sat next to her. With the Unsullied, Second Sons and Meereenese City Guard patrolling the city-state after the Sons of the Harpy launched their attack which killed Daenerys' predecessor Saqnizza Dhardu, a lot of people were on edge—each of them wondering when the next attack might occur. Grey Worm, commander of the Unsullied, and Daario Naharis, leader of the Second Sons, stood close to Daenerys to ensure her safety.

Covering the fighting pits displayed the banners of House Targaryen, a red three-headed dragon on a black field. As the Dragon Queen stared bored into the fighting pits, an announcer steps into the middle and waves his arm to silence the cheering crowd.

"Dāez issaros hen Mīrīn! (Free citizens of Meereen)," he announced. "Ondoso se jorepagon hen kraj se zirȳla dārōñe se dāria, rytsas naejot se rōvēgrie tymptir! (By the blessings of the Graces and Her Majesty the Queen, welcome to the Great Games!)"

The entire stadium thundered with applause and cheers as two gladiators ran out into the middle of the arena. Daenerys and Missandei look disgusted, Daario looked impressed. Ten thousand throats roared out their thanks; then twenty thousand; then all. They did not call her name, which few of them could pronounce. "Mother!" they cried instead; in the old dead tongue of Ghis, the word was Mhysa! They stamped their feet and slapped their bellies and shouted, "Mhysa, Mhysa, Mhysa," until the whole pit seemed to tremble.

"Ñuha dāria, īlva ēlī urnēptre. Qilōni kessa ērinagon: se kostōba iā se adere? (My Queen, our first contest. Who will win: the strong or the quick?)"

"Nyke vīlībagon se morghūljagon syt aōha jaqiarzir, oh jaqiarzus dāria (I fight and die for your glory, oh glorious queen)," both men proclaimed proudly in Valyrian.

Daenerys glanced down at the large, yet powerful and small, but agile combatants as the announcer moved to walk away. The Daznak's Pit fell silent as the spectators—as all eyes—turned towards the Dragon Queen, expecting her to begin the Great Games. Hizdahr leaned in to Daenerys.

"They're waiting for you. Clap your hands," he explains.

Daenerys looks down at the two men. After a moment, and with a look of disgust on her face, she brought her hands up to give a single clap. The crowd roars with excitement and the two gladiators begin a vicious fight. Both appeared to be equally skilled in their respective fields of expertise, with the strong overpowering his opponent while the small outmaneuvered the other. After some parries, the Quick man slices at the Strong man's neck.

"That one, the smaller man, no question," Daario betted, "that's where you put your money."

"I'm not putting my money anywhere," replied Daenerys.

Hizdahr looked at her and Daario. "Kings and queens never bet on the games. Perhaps you should go find someone who does."

The Second Sons leader turned towards him. "People used to bet against me when I fought in the pits. He would have bet against me. Common novice mistake."

"I have spent much of my life in Meereen, and in my experience, larger men do triumph over smaller man, far more often than not."

Daenerys raised an eyebrow. "Has your experience ever involved any actual fighting? You, yourself, have you ever tried to kill a man that was trying to kill you?" she challenged.

For a moment, Hizdahr is silent.

"Whenever I got into the pit against a beast like that one, the crowd saw me, all skin and bone back then, then they saw a pile of angry muscles ready to murder me. They couldn't get their money out fast enough," Daario brandishes a small yet sharp dagger; putting it dangerously close to each parts of Hizdahr's throat. "But the pile of angry muscles never had any muscles here or here. And the big men were always too slow to stop my dagger from going where their muscles weren't. Yes, whenever I saw a beast like that one, standing across from me making his beast faces, I knew I could rest easy."

Unfortunately for the sellsword, the agile fighter was swiftly decapitated by the much larger combatant's greatsword with one quick stroke. Hizdahr smiles and Daario turns away looking visibly angry; pit workers arrive to carry away to decapitated head out of the arena, leaving a trail of blood behind. The announcer soon returned to the arena.

"Īlon epagon arlī: qilōni kessa ērinagon? (We ask again: who will triumph?)," he asks. "Iā Mīrīno kosh … iā mēre hen lanta Vesterozia azantys?! (A Meereenese champion… or one of the two Westerosi knights?!)"

In that instant, the crowd immediately switched from cheering to jeering. Daenerys, meanwhile, looked suddenly surprised at the announcer's words and shifted her position in her chair and observed a Dothraki, a Summer Islander with a halberd, a Braavosi Water Dancer and two knights. One knight was missing two fingers on his left hand, leaving only a thumb, index and pinky covered by a cloth covered in dried blood; wore a ragged and torn, yet red and white leather vest with a red and white griffon on each end. His physical appearance bore crow's feet at the corner of his pale, blue eyes and reddish-grey hair and beard.

The other combatant, however, bore leather armor with steel plates attached, leather armguards and a pale yellow shirt. Both men Daenerys, Missandei and Daario recognized all too well.

"Nyke vīlībagon se morghūljagon syt aōha jaqiarzir, oh jaqiarzus dāria (I fight and die for your glory, oh glorious Queen)," shouted Jon Connington.

"Nyke vīlībagon se morghūljagon syt aōha jaqiarzir, oh jaqiarzus dāria (I fight and die for your glory, oh glorious Queen)," Jorah Mormont similarly exclaimed.

Daenerys doesn't acknowledge Connington; her sights focused primarily on Mormont. She hadn't seen him since she banished him from her company for what felt like a lifetime ago when his treachery was exposed… after Jorah was forced to confess. Both hold back emotion.

After a tense pause, Daenerys claps. Jorah nods while Connington begins to fight off his attackers. The fighting has begun, with Daenerys' eyes primarily following Jorah. He takes a blow to the mouth, is knocked down and starts bleeding. Connington struggles to keep pace with the Water Dancer, but is quick to figure his opponent's fighting style and fight him off. Jorah gets up, has his sword knocked away by the Summer Islander, and pulls out a dagger. He wrestles with the man trying to choke him, throws him off, then stabs him in the chest. He pulls the dagger out, looking at Daenerys, throws it away, and picks up his longsword.

Jorah squares off against a flashy Dothraki fighter that just brutally stabbed another fighter through the back. He slices Jorah in the cheek. The other two fighters square off, with a heavily armored fighter wielding a spear killing his opponent. The crowd cheers.

Jorah's opponent slices Jorah's arm then knocks him over, knocking his sword out of his hand. He holds his blade to Jorah's throat. Both he and Jorah look to Daenerys.

The fighter holds his blade to Jorah's throat. He is about to make a move when Connington comes over and stabs Jorah's opponent in the back, killing him. Jorah gets up and faces the final opponent. Jorah matches the spearman, is knocked over, but catches the spear before it reaches his throat. He gets back up and the two face off again. Jorah spins, somersaults to avoid contact as Connington catches the Summer Islander off-guard, allowing Mormont to stab him through the stomach, killing him. As the Meereenese spectators boo and jeer at the Westerosi, both men looks up to Daenerys.

With a silent nod from Connington, Jorah reaches for the fallen Summer Islander's spear, picks it up and hurls it towards Daenerys' seat. Daario instinctively rushes to protect Daenerys and everyone else gets out of the way, but to everyone's surprise… it connects with a Son of the Harpy, hidden among the spectators.

"What the—?!" Hizdahr exclaims with shock.

Daario turns to look behind him, and notices more Sons of the Harpy donning golden masks rising from the crowd and menacingly brandished their daggers as the Meereenese crowd began screaming in terror and try to flee the arena—occasionally tripping over each other and jamming the exits in their haste to be away. Others followed. Some ran, shoving at one another. More stayed in their seats.

"Protect your Queen!" Daario barked.

The Sons of the Harpy start slitting the throats of former slaves and Unsullied in the crowd. Unsullied guards, city watchmen and Daario surround Daenerys and Missandei, fighting off the Harpys. Hizdahr starts running towards Daenerys.

"Your Grace, Your Grace, come with me!" he shouts. "I know a way out! I know a way—"

Before he could finish, however, Hizdahr was cut off as several Sons of the Harpy swarmed around him and repeatedly began stabbing him in the chest over and over again.

They run at Daenerys, before Daario takes out one of them. Both Jorah and Connington come up from the pit to take Hizdahr's spot and take out the other. Mormont offers his hand to Daenerys and she takes it. He leads her down to the pit with Daario and the Unsullied, leaving Connington and Missandei.

"Stay behind me, khaleesi!" he shouts, leading her to a nearby exit. Unfortunately, their escape path was locked from the other side. A Son of the Harpy steps out and rushes towards Daenerys, but Mormont easily dispatches the assassin.

Back at the pit, a Son of the Harpy appeared towards Missandei and rushes at her, but Connington elbows him in the jaw and kicks the back of the assassin's knees out from under him, forcing him to the ground. Connington forcibly slits the Harpy's throat and pushes him down the steps.

"Come with me, child!" he told Missandei, who nods and follows him down to the pit. "Unsullied, move into position! Protect your Queen!"

Jorah, Daario, and the Unsullied form a ring around Missandei, Daenerys and Connington in the center of the pit. Sons of the Harpy begin to rush from the other exit they were heading towards them. Everyone in the center was able to fight off and kill most of the Harpys, but there were far too many of them to handle. It was only a matter of time before the Targaryen host would be overwhelmed.

"We're outnumbered and trapped. Got any strategies to get us out of this mess, old man?" Daario glares at the Sons of the Harpys surrounding them.

"Stay focused, boy," Connington barked. "We make our stand here. Show no quarter, give no ground."

They surround the ring, testing out the outer ring before they begin rushing. A few make it past the outer ring but are killed by Daario and Connington. Missandei and Daenerys join hands and Daenerys closes her eyes.

*SKREEEEEE!*

A roar is heard in the distance. When a shadow rippled across the arena, the tumult and the shouting died. Connington, Jorah, Missandei, Daario and Daenerys look up, as do all the Harpys. Every eye turned skyward. A warm wind brushed Dany's cheeks, and above the beating of her heart she heard the sound of wings.

Then… in a plume of fire, a dragon distinguished by its black scales and red-black wings circling the pit; its eyes and horns and spinal plates blood red. Ever the largest of her three, in the wild Drogon had grown larger still. Its wings stretched twenty feet from tip to tip, black as jet. It flapped them once as he swept back above the sands, and the sound was like a clap of thunder.

"That's—" Daario said, mouth wide open.

"Drogon!" Daenerys exclaimed.

Upon landing on the ground, Drogon opened its mouth and breathed a wall of fire at the Sons of the Harpy, scattering several of the assassins away from Daenerys to the edge of the pit. One unfortunate Harpy had the foolish audacity to charge at Daenerys, but is grabbed by Drogon and crunches down with his jaws and tears into his flesh with his razor sharp teeth. Shaking its head from side-to-side, Drogon gave a massive chomp and rips the Harpy in half.

As morale of the Sons of the Harpy began to drop sharply, Drogon breathed fire on four to five of them at a time before a Harpy thrusted an iron spear into the air and hits the dragon in the back of its long scaled neck.

*RRAAAAARRRHH!*

Drogon roars in pain as two more spears connect and its movement's start to become sluggish. The assassin leaned into his spear, using his weight to twist the point in deeper. Drogon arched upward with a hiss of pain and lashed its tail sideways. Daenerys watched as the Harpy lost his footing and went tumbling back onto the sand. Before he could struggle to his feet, Drogon's jaws closed hard around his forearm and wrenched his arm from his shoulder and tossed it aside.

"Ossēnagon ziry! (Kill it!)" one of the Sons of the Harpy shouted. "Ossēnagon se dyni! (Kill the beast!)"

"No!" Daenerys shouted, twisting herself free from Jorah's grasp.

The Sons of the Harpy remained jerking on the sand, blood pouring from the ragged stump of his shoulder. His spear remained in Drogon's back, wobbling as the dragon beat its wings. Smoke rose from the wound. As the other spears closed in, Drogon spat fire, bathing two men in black flame. Its tail lashed sideways and caught another Harpy creeping up behind him, breaking him in two. Another attacker stabbed at his eyes until the dragon caught him in its jaws and tore his belly out.

"Drogon!" she screamed. "Drogon!"

Jon Connington noticed her rushing towards her dragon. "What are you doing, child?! Get back here!" he shouted after Daenerys.

Hearing someone calling its name loudly to get its attention, Drogon turn its head. Smoke rose between his teeth. Its blood was smoking too, where it dripped upon the ground. It beat its wings again, sending up a choking storm of scarlet sand. Dany stumbled into the hot red cloud, coughing. He snapped and roared.

*RRAAAAAARRGH!*

Daenerys froze. 'No,' she tried to say. 'Drogon, don't you know me?'

Drogon's teeth snapped within inches from her face. The dragon's long scaled neck stretched toward her. When its mouth opened, Daenerys could see bits of broken bone and charred flesh between Drogon's black teeth. Drogon roared full in her face again, his breath hot enough to blister skin.

"Your Grace! Come back!" Daario pleaded.

Connington groaned in frustration. 'They'd better get here in time…'

In the smoldering red pits of Drogon's eyes, Daenerys Targaryen saw her own reflection. How small she looked compared to the largest and aggressive of her three dragons. Slowly, Daenerys' feet scrabbled in the sand, pushing against the Sons of the Harpy's corpse. Drogon roared again, the sound so loud that she almost flinched. His teeth snapped at her.

"No," she said firmly, placing her hand on Drogon's snout. The dragon jerked its head back. "No, Drogon," she said again. Reaching her other hand out, Daenerys grabs the spear lodged into Drogon's neck and pulled back, yanking the spear out of him and flung it aside. The point was half-melted, the iron red-hot, glowing.

The dragon roared again, but then closes its mouth. Sensing her dragon's distress, Daenerys rubbed her hand against Drogon's nose. His long serpentine neck bent like an archer's bow. The silver-haired Queen gave a small smile, knowing that Drogon was finally calming down and seemed to look at her with love and affection. Daenerys reached out to touch him, but Drogon was suddenly pierced by yet another spear and turns to them and bellows another loud, threatening roar.

*HISSSSSSS!*

As the fighting around them continued to rage, Daario and Connington continue fighting off every Harpy that comes near Daenerys. In the meantime, Daenerys slowly begins to climb onto Drogon's back. His wings beat once, twice… Drogon twisted, his muscles rippling as the dragon gathered its strength.

"Sōvegon (Fly)…" Daenerys commanded.

Tightly clutching onto Drogon's scales, Daenerys felt her dragon begin to shift and shudder its center of gravity before charging towards the Harpys. Drogon's wide black wings beat harder and harder and kicked itself off the ground and into the air to take flight. Flying out of the Daznak's Pit and past the Great Pyramid, Daenerys held on while Drogon roared as it flew away from Meereen with Daenerys Targaryen still on its back.

Connington, Mormont, Missandei and Daario watched as their Queen flew high into the sky and out of sight, staring up in awe and wonder.

*BAM!*

*BAM!*

*BAM!*

Each of the surrounding Harpys turned to hear the sounds of loud banging against the Daznak's Pit's gates grow more frequent before one finally burst open to reveal dozens of armed, armored soldiers storming the arena on horseback with a rather large grey-skinned, hairless war animal. The beast had a long trunk, two sets of tusks and large ears.

*BARAGG!*

Connington smiled triumphantly. "About time they showed up," he said. 'There is not a warhorse in all of Westeros that will stand against them…'

Daario looked confused. "Who's 'they'?"

"You'll see for yourself soon enough, boy. Just kill these sons of bitches!"

Startled by the arrival of unexpected reinforcements and frozen by the size of large animals, each of the remaining Sons of the Harpy was easily dispatched by the Unsullied and their untimely rescuers. Dozens of high-ranking officers on their horses swung their blades, a few were trampled beneath their horses' hooves. Any of the Harpys that tried to fight back or retreat all met the same fate, all whilst their cries were drowned out by their war cry.

"Beneath the gold, the bitter steel!" they bellowed.

Sheathing his blade back into his side, Connington approached the officers once the last Sons of the Harpy were wiped out. Daario's face froze in astonishment as he recognized the war cry and the attire their saviors were wearing: jeweled swords, inlaid golden armor, heavy torcs and fine silks. Many wore golden arm rings, with each ring signifying one year's service.

"Th-the… You… you hired the-the Golden Company?!" Daario exclaimed.

One of the officers, a Summer Islander archer, had white hair with skin as dark as soot and wore a feathered cloak of green and–magnificent to behold–with a lord's ransom in golden arm rings.

"Black Balaq," Connington praised, "my friend."

Balaq got off his mount and approached his former comrade. "You always did find glory in adventures and battles, Connington. Shame you left the Golden Company. We could have used you."

"So I've heard. No matter. I suppose Homeless Harry hasn't stopped complaining about his feet?"

"No, 'fraid so," he mused. "A mark of weakness, it is. The men believe Commander Strickland to be a coward and should have stayed as the company paymaster. It suited him just fine rather than captain-general."

"Shame that the last client recommended him in the first place; no wonder why so many wealthy clientele often mock the Golden Company nowadays."

"Yet they always fail to comprehend that the Golden Company is the largest and most skilled sellsword company in Essos. And we've never broken a contract. I take it your friend back there has heard of us?"

Connington noticed Daario's continued sputtering. "Without question; have the rest of you received the payment I sent you?"

"We did," Lysono Maar interjected.

"Must've been quite an offer for you to reach out to us like this, given the amount of gold you had to shit out the arse," Franklyn Flowers laughed.

"Indeed."

"So… what's the contract?"

Connington folded his arms, giving an atmosphere of confidence and boldness. "There is no time to waste now, so listen up." He cleared his throat. "Dozens of sellswords in the Golden Company have been made up of Westerosi exiles and other nationals. We've been through thick and thin, never once haven broken a contract – so long as the job was done and we all got paid for it. Money was but one factor for this mercenary company, the other was to flex our muscles and demonstrate our power to the world. But there's a reason why I left and why I chose to go out of my way to extend an offer."

"Well, what's the plan then?!" said Tristan Rivers impatiently.

"Years ago, a few of us fought against the usurper, Robert Baratheon. I fought in that war, to defend House Targaryen as the rightful monarchs to sit on the Iron Throne of Westeros. It has since been tainted by the stench of the usurper and his offspring. I spent years in exile detailing every strategy, every tactic… Word has reached me across the Narrow Sea that Tywin Lannister is dead, and the usurper's son is on death's door after a sudden illness took him. Even after a century, some of us still have friends in Westeros. I've already made sure of that. The Seven Kingdoms will never be more vulnerable and ripe for conquest. How would you like to undertake a contract that the Golden Company cannot afford to pass up?"

Rivers was smiling in approval. Others traded thoughtful looks. Then Peake approached.

"I'd rather die in Westeros than on the demon road," he said.

Marq Mandrake chuckled. "Me, I'd sooner live, win lands and some great castle."

"So long as I can kill some Fossoways, I'm for it," Franklyn Flowers slapped his sword hilt.

Connington smirked wickedly. "Then do you accept?"

"So long as Homeless Harry stops bitching about his feet, we'll take it," Black Balaq proclaimed.

"The contract… Sail across the Narrow Sea with Daenerys Targaryen, ferry her armies and retake the Seven Kingdoms."

Chapter End

Author's Note: One year later, and we've now finally reached the milestone of 100 Chapters in total! Whew! Wow, what a journey this has been. But wait! We're nowhere near close to being done just yet.

As Daenerys Targaryen flies off into the distance on Drogon's back, it's later revealed that Jon Connington has reached out (and paid heavily) to his old mercenary company, the Golden Company. In an act of secrecy, Connington has apparently hired the largest mercenaries in Essos to assist the Targaryen forces in retaking the Seven Kingdoms. Do you guys believe the inevitable battle between Daveth Baratheon and Daenerys Targaryen will be even tougher? Will one side have a key advantage over the other? Will they be evenly matched? Let me know.

On a side note, keep in mind that the first episode of Game of Thrones Season 8 will premiere tomorrow April 14th on HBO 9:00 PM ET. Stay tuned for more updates!

And remember,

#ForTheThrone
#WinterIsComing

Morgan: It's been a while since I commented, but I am loving the turnouts so far! I cannot wait to see the battle between Daveth and Daenerys soon. Like Jon Snow though, I am slightly more worried about whatever is going on up north though. Ehehe.

Anyways keep up the good work :)

The Three Stoogies: Congrats on 100 chapter's can't wait to read what happens next like always keep up the good work.

Hear My Fury: Congrats on 100 chapters. And I kind of figured you'd bring in the Golden Company. Hopefully Daveth will be better by the time they come.

RHatch89: At least Connington isn't using the Young Griff plan :)