At Meereen…
Daenerys flew on Drogon's back watching the besiegement of Meereen already taking place below her. Off the coast, ships belonging to the Slavers Alliance armada consisting of both the reconquered Astapor and Yunkai were bombarding the city with their trebuchets; volleys of flaming projectiles soared over the beach and into the city. Daenerys watched from above in anger at the sight of terrified civilians running for their lives.
*WHOOSH!*
*BOOM!*
"Ilagon. (Descend)," she tells her dragon.
Drogon screeches and flies downward onto the roof of the Great Pyramid, allowing Daenerys to dismount safely as the beast hid behind one of the nearby pyramids—waiting for its prey to come to it. On the ground, many Unsullied and Golden Company mercenaries were evacuating the citizenry as the Second Sons scrambled with the Meereenese City Guard. Connington was among the first to see Daenerys right away.
"About time you came back, child," he exclaimed. "The Great Masters have already begun laying siege to the city, all while our men—"
Daenerys held her hand up. "Now is not the time to argue, Lord Connington," she replied unfazed. She is not the same woman who flew away from Daznak's Pit on the back of a dragon.
*BOOM!*
"Meereen is strong. The city's primary rebirth has been the cause of the violence we've all witnessed even before the heroic revolutionary Saqnizza Dhardu led the revolt against the Masters—"
*BOOM!*
It was a close one, though neither Connington nor Daenerys flinched. Connington watches how the Dragon Queen carries herself and looks at him, regarding her as someone who's coming into her own.
"We cannot let the Masters win because they know Meereen is thriving on its own, economically and politically. If Meereen succeeds as a city without slavery, without Masters—"
*BOOM!*
"—then it proves no one needs a Master. Shall we begin?"
Connington raised an eyebrow, his curiosity peaked. "You have a plan in mind?" he pressed.
Daenerys nodded. "I will crucify the Masters. I will set their fleet afire, kill every last one of their soldiers and return their cities to the dirt. Well, that's what I'd normally say had I not had more time to think about the kind of ruler I want to be; to not be like the kind of ruler my father was once."
*BOOM!*
"So I suggest we take an alternative approach. But what happens next depends on you, Lord Connington. Come. It's time we take the fight to them."
*BOOM!*
A blast from one of the flaming projectiles hit the balcony and explodes inward, sending shards of wood flying everywhere. Outside, smoke and fire and debris flies in through the window. Connington, Grey Worm, Daario, Jorah and an assembly of Unsullied accompanied Daenerys to an elevated plateau outside of the city with good views of both Slavers Bay and the Meereenese skyline. They stand across from the three Masters, Yeezan zo Qaggaz, Razdal mo Eraz and Belicho Paenymion accompanied with a dozen of bodyguards.
Razdal smiles. "Once before I offered you peace. If you had not been so arrogant, you could have returned to your homeland with a fleet of ships. Instead you will flee Slavers Bay on foot like the Beggar Queen you are."
Connington scoffed. "We're here to discuss terms of surrender, not trade insults – no matter how amusing it sounds."
"The terms are simple," Yezzan stated, arms crossed. "You and your foreign friends will abandon the Great Pyramid and the city of Meereen. The Unsullied you stole from Kraznys mo Nakloz will remain to be sold again to the highest bidder." He glances at Missandei. "The translator you stole from Kraznys mo Nakloz will remain to be sold again to the highest bidder. The dragons beneath the Great Pyramid will be slaughtered."
'Arrogant fool,' Connington thought smugly. 'They still cannot comprehend the magnitude of their situation. But they'll learn soon enough. One way or another, they will learn.'
Grey Worm and Missandei both watche Yezzan, emotionless.
"I fear you're all mistaken," Daenerys replied confidently. "We obviously did not communicate clearly enough. We are here to discuss your surrender, not mine."
The slave masters exchange glances and laugh. Oh, how they laugh!
"I imagine it's difficult, adjusting to the new reality," Razdal pointed out. "Your reign is over."
"On the contrary. My reign has just begun." Without beating an eyelash or breaking eye contact, she utters a word. "Māzigon naejot nyke, Drōgon. (Come to me, Drogon.)"
"*RRAAAAAAAAAAAARRH!*"
Yezzan notices something in the distance, a black dot in the sky that grows larger and larger. Soon all the envoys and their bodyguards see it: Daenerys never turns to look at the approaching Drogon, who flies up over the plateau and lands on an overlooking structure. Daenerys allows the faintest hint of a smile to form across her face, a smile that says: 'This game is only just beginning. I've got you in my clutches now, but this time there is no escape… for any of you.'
The beast roars loudly across the sky and drops down beside Daenerys, who climbs on his back without hesitation like she was born to ride dragons and they fly off over Meereen, displaying the Dragon Queen's control of the greatest war machine the known world has ever seen. The Masters' bodyguards shrink in fear and terror.
"*SKREEE!*"
"*WOORAAAH!*"
When they pass over the entrance to the catacombs, Rhaegal and Viserion swoop down from above and joins them—spitting fire from their mouths upon hearing their brother's calls; all three dragons look a lot healthier than ever before. The ensemble flies over the beach entrance to Meereen, overpassing Daznak's Pit, other landmarks of Meereen and towards the Great Pyramid.
—Outside the city—
On the outskirts of Meereen, a group of the Sons of the Harpy are slaughtering citizens of Meereen. Galloping footsteps can be heard in the distance. One of the Sons of the Harpy turns to look in the direction of the sound. The 100,000 Dothraki horde led by Qhono rounds the bend of a nearby cliff, yelling war cries and charging full force towards the Sons of the Harpy on horseback.
With one swing of his arakh, Qhono beheads a Son of the Harpy. Despite being vastly outnumbered, the Sons of the Harpy tried putting up a fierce resistance—but to no avail as the Dothraki slaughtered and plundered.
Inside, the Golden Company war elephants and cavalry were easily able to rout any remaining Sons of the Harpy within Meereen. Captain Strickland removed his helm and stared at the sky, watching the three dragons flying ever closer to the Slaver Alliance armada.
"Incredible…" he said in awe.
—By the edge of Slavers Bay—
Daenerys and all three of her dragons fly over the Masters' ships. The mercenary soldiers and sailors on the ships stop what they were doing and stare up at her fearfully. Three large, full-grown dragons circle in the sky above them; too late, they realize what horrible career choices they have made.
"Dracarys. (Dragonfire)," she orders.
Inhaling deep, Drogon breathes fire upon the warship. Rhaegal and Viserion follow suit. It's an awe-inspiring sight: three columns of flame, thick as tree trunks reducing ship and crew alike to ash in a matter of seconds. Engulfed in flames, the soldiers and sailors scream as they die while the ship incinerates and capsizes.
The rest of the slavers fleet gets the message loud and clear. Each sailor abandons ship en masse, jumping into the ocean and swimming for safety wherever they can find it. Weighed down by their armor and weapons, many of them drown to a cold, dark, watery grave.
—Back on the plateau—
The Unsullied on the plateau shift their spears to attack mode in one synchronized fashion. Their commander, Grey Worm, calmly approaches them. "Ao vali emagon iā iderennon. (You men have a choice)," he tells them. "Vīlībagon se morghūljagon syt āeksia qilōni would dōrī vīlībagon se morghūljagon syt ao. Iā jikagon lenton, naejot aōha lentor. (Fight and die for Masters who would never fight and die for you. Or go home, to your families.)"
With the sound of dragons screeching in the distance, the Masters' mercenary bodyguards glance at each other and immediately throw down their arms before running away without hesitation. The three Masters Yeezan, Razdal and Belicho stood their abandoned facing the Unsullied and the Targaryen generals.
"Now that we have your complete and undivided attention, allow me to make this crystal clear for you three," Connington approached with his arms tucked behind his back. "Your guards have abandoned you; every Son of the Harpy you clandestinely dispatched has been utterly wiped out never to be seen or heard from again, and to top it all off… every single ship in your armada now belongs to us. Queen Daenerys Stormborn will see to it that they are properly suited for her quest to retake the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. But even though our Queen tends to have a… forgiving nature, this unprovoked act of aggression cannot and will not be forgiven."
The Masters have not quite processed their new reality yet; they look between Jon Connington and the Unsullied infantrymen, pointing their spearheads right at their hearts.
"Our Queen insists that one of you must die," Missandei agrees, "as punishment for your crimes."
"It always seems abstract, doesn't it, hmm? Other people dying?"
Razdal instantly grabs Yezzan. "Him! He should die!" he shoves him forward.
Belicho nodded. "Yes, yes, him!"
Yezzan looks at the two of them, stunned and terrified. "My friends— Why?"
"He's not one of us!" Razdal continued ranting. "He's an outsider, a lowborn! He does not speak for us!"
Connington glances back at Grey Worm and nods at him; Grey Worm approaches and stares Yezzan in his eyes.
"Please," the slave master falls to his knees begging for mercy. "Please, please—"
Grey Worm unsheathes his dagger; before anyone could blink, the Unsullied leader swiftly slices both Razdal and Belicho's throats with a single move—instantly killing them both in less than five seconds with such an impressive feat. The two Masters fall to the ground, dying, clutching their opened throats. Once he wipes the blood off his blade, Grey Worm sheathes his dagger and takes a step back. As Yezzan gasps, almost in a state of shock, Connington steps towards Yezzan and grips his shoulder tightly.
"Let this be a reminder of what happens when you declare war upon us," he said through gritted teeth, his voice dripping with menace. "Go. Tell every single slave owner everything that happened here. Tell them you live by the grace of Her Majesty because she chose to spare your worthless life. If they even think about any foolish notions of retribution or any ideas about returning the slave cities to their former glory, remind them what happened when Queen Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons came to Meereen with her armies and all three of her dragons."
*BAM!*
Before parting, Connington punched Yezzan across the face—rendering the Master unconscious. He, Grey Worm, Missandei, Daario and Jorah soon walk away to return to the market center. They stop moving as soon as they see Drogon flying low to land; the dragon shifted its body and lowered its left side down a bit to allow Daenerys to climb off.
"Congratulations on your victory, khaleesi," Missandei said warmly.
"Indeed," Daario noted. "Now you've got a fleet and enough men to carry your armies across the Narrow Sea."
Daenerys looked out at Slavers Bay, admiring the sunset beginning to glistening specks of light off the surface of the water. Closing her eyes, she inhaled through her nostrils and out the mouth; finally, Daenerys had acquired an army—Dothraki, Unsullied and Golden Company mercenaries, three dragons—and now had a fleet big enough for the long voyage to begin her conquest to take back the Iron Throne for House Targaryen. All of her 21 years have been living in exile in Essos, often dreaming of one day returning to her homeland and restoring her family to the throne.
"It's finally over," she sounded almost relieved. "We can finally begin what we set out to do."
Connington stood beside her. "Captain Strickland will have his men prep the ships ready for the long voyage. However, their elephants will have to remain here… in the Bay of Dragons. They're excellent beasts. Useful, but not well-suited to long sea voyages."
"They say the Dothraki do not cross an ocean; they believed the world ends there."
"But they will for you."
"That they will. How long will it take for us to reach Westeros from here?"
"Given the size of our forces, it'll take time to teach the Dothraki and Unsullied how to sail properly. They'll need training. In hindsight, it would take several months to cross the Narrow Sea from here to get to Westeros."
Daenerys pondered her next move carefully. "Then we'll need to find someone who knows anything about sailing before begin. And there's also the affair of establishing a provisional government in Meereen so the people can rule themselves." She turns to Jorah. "But there is also you. I banished you, yet you came back. And you saved my life. So I can't take you back and I can't send you away."
When she approaches Jorah, he recoils and backs away—still clutching his wrist.
"But you must send me away… for good this time," he says before rolling up his sleeve to reveal the greyscale covering his left forearm.
Daenerys looks at the infection with shock. "Is there a cure?" she asks.
Jorah shook his head. "I don't know," he answers despondently.
"How long does it take?"
"I don't know that either. Both Connington and I got hit with it, though he cut his fingers off before it could spread."
She turns to her senior advisor. "You as well? You healed yourself, but yet you didn't—"
"Khaleesi, please," Jorah interrupted. "I've seen what happens when it goes far enough. I don't blame Connington for doing what he thought was right. After what I did, I… I felt this was punishment. I'll end things before that."
Daenerys begins to cry. "I… I didn't know. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
Connington crossed his arms at the sight of the Dragon Queen expressing genuine remorse for the man who wronged her in somewhat disbelief; yet still, he silently kept his disapprovals to himself. Jorah shook his head again.
"Don't be," he said reassuringly. "All I've ever wanted was to serve you. I love you. I'll always love you. Goodbye, Khaleesi."
"Do not walk away from your Queen, Jorah the Andal!" she shouted after him.
'Foolish girl, don't touch him,' Connington thought in disapproval. 'Touch a man infected with greyscale then the disease will be transmitted to you. And all your goals and ambitions will be for naught.'
"You have not been dismissed," she continued. "You pledged yourself to me. You swore to obey my commands for the rest of your life. Well, I command you to find the cure wherever it is in this world. I command you to heal yourself and then return to me. When I take the Seven Kingdoms… I need you by my side."
Jorah looks at Daenerys in amazement; nodding his head, the former Lord of Bear Island turns to be escorted out of Meereen and take the first ship out of the city-state to wherever it is so he could find a cure for his condition—though he took one more glance behind him before starting off into the wilderness. Connington watched Jorah's departure and felt his left hand twitch; the missing fingers on his hand felt as if they were still there even if they were no longer. He huffed before noticing a cloaked individual approaching.
"Unsullied," he called out.
Grey Worm spun around as did his men, shields up and spears aimed. The intruder stopped and cautiously waved her hands up. Daenerys dried her eyes and turned to them.
"I couldn't help but overhear you needed some assistance with instructing your men how to sail properly," the guest said in a rough feminine voice.
"Who are you?" Grey Worm demanded.
The individual removed the cloak, revealing herself to be Yara Greyjoy. "I'm Yara. Princess Yara of House Greyjoy," she introduced herself, "eldest surviving child of Balon Greyjoy, King of the Iron Islands."
In Braavos…
Rushing through the streets and marketplace of Braavos, Arya was on the run. Exhausted and wounded, she had knowingly made herself a target when she refused to assassinate actress Lady Crane via poison. Being hunted by the Waif, Arya reflected on her brief banter with Lady Crane.
"You wouldn't be safe," she told her. "Not while she's looking for me."
"Who?" Crane asked.
"She doesn't have a name."
"Where will you go?"
"Essos is east and Westeros is west. But what's west of Westeros?"
"I don't know."
"Nobody does. That's where all the maps stop."
"The edge of the world, maybe."
"I'd like to see that."
Slowly getting back on her feet, Arya is still afflicted with pain from her stomach where the Waif repeatedly stabbed her. She remains fortunate to fight back and escape; otherwise the Faceless Man assassin would've finished her off. All she had to do now was quickly make it to her hideout before the Waif catches her. Before taking another step forward, Arya spots a trail of blood in an abutting room.
"Lady Crane?" she calls out. "Lady Crane?" she repeats a bit louder.
"If you'd have done your job, she would have died painlessly."
Arya jumped and turned to see the Waif standing in the doorway with a knife. As the Waif slowly approaches with a creepy smile on her face, Arya matches her pace whilst backing away.
"Instead," the Waif continues, "the Many-Faced God was promised a name. He must always receive what is His. You can't change that. I can't change that. No one can. And now He's been promised another name."
Arya turned and ran, leaping out the window onto the streets below before sprinting off. The Waif gives chase, proving herself to be the more agile and precise in her movements—a trained killer zeroing in on a chosen target. Fruits and baskets were knocked over during the pursuit; Arya grunted and held her side painfully as she felt her stitches had reopened. Knowing she would be unable to outrun the Waif, who is closing in on her, Arya barely manages to stay ahead and rolls down a broad flight of stairs which overturned several more baskets of vegetables in the process.
"Ngh!" she hissed through her teeth. "Come on, Arya. Get up. Get up! GET UP!"
Quickly getting back on her feet, Arya flees into an alleyway knowing her hideaway was nearby. Figuring that enough was enough, that she would make a final stand, Arya pressed her left hand against her wound and smeared it against the side of the building, leaving a bloody trail to a doorway. At last, Arya enters a small, dark room lit by a single candle and retrieves Needle from underneath her bedsheet on time as the Waif followed her and shut the door behind her.
"It will all be over soon," she tells Arya. "On your knees or on your feet?"
Arya brandishes Needle and stands her ground.
"Haven't we been through this already? That won't help you."
"You think so? Come try me then."
She didn't need to be told twice. The Waif advances on her target; deciding to utilize the full extent of her Water Dance training, Arya holds Needle up in front of her face, closes her eyes and chops the wax candle in half with one quick slice—plunging the room in total darkness. Steel clashed, shouts hurled before flesh was pierced and silence loomed over the area.
—At the House of Black and White—
The leading Faceless Man Jaqen H'dgar tends to the main hall. Whilst examining the Hall of Faces, he notices a blood trail on the floor leading to one of the columns bearing the faces. To his amazement, Jaqen notices the Waif's bloody face resting in one of the sconces with her eyes gouged out before feeling something sharp poking him in the back. Jaqen turns around to see a furious Arya glaring at him, armed with Needle. Huffing and puffing angrily, she had had enough and confronted her estranged mentor.
"You sent her after me. You told her to kill me. Didn't you?" Arya pressed.
Jaqen remained calm and composed. "Yes, but here you are. And there she is," he replied, his voice uneven. In his eyes, she passed the test to join the Faceless Men before pushing his chest closer against Needle's point. "Finally a girl is no one."
'No. That's it, I'm done. I'm not playing another one of your games, Jaqen; not again. Not after everything you put me through. I am a wolf and will not be afraid,' she spat. "No. A girl is Arya Stark of Winterfell… and I'm going home."
Jaqen responds with a nod and a barely perceptible smile. Reassuring her identity and having learned all she needed to know, Arya turns and makes the ultimate decision to leave the House of Black and White and all of Braavos for good. She was now determined to return to Westeros, her home.
"At least the Faceless Men were good for at least something. Swift as a deer; quiet as a shadow; fear cuts deeper than swords," Arya evaluates herself with a smile on her face before stepping foot on a merchant vessel bound for White Harbor. "The world we live in doesn't just let girls decide what they want to be… But I can now. So long as even a single wolf remains alive, the sheep are never safe. Now, I'm going to defend my family."
Chapter End
Author's Note: Hey guys, I had a bit of head start working on this chapter last night and have finished this morning. The Second Siege of Meereen was brought to a swift conclusion; and although Daenerys acquired her ships, it'll take time to teach the Dothraki and Unsullied to sail them properly—but that is only until she settles things in Meereen first and the Dragon Queen meeting Yara Greyjoy for the first time. Think this'll be a somewhat beneficial alliance, knowing that Yara wants something in return? Find out next time.
Arya Stark completes her training with the Faceless Man, then straight up rage quits and is on her way back home to Winterfell. Think she'll still play a large role in the Great War? Let me know.
jojoboy914: Would this mean that Daveth would be King of the North due to his marriage with Sansa. I imagine that there are still many northerners who recognize Daveth as the benevolent ruler fit for them to follow. Looking forward to how this would play out when the Great War begins
—It would be similar to Renly Baratheon's nickname "The King in Highgarden" due to his marriage to Margaery Tyrell; since Daveth Baratheon is married to Sansa Stark, it would be fitting that another of his nicknames would include "The King in Winterfell" (not to be confused with the Kings in the North during the North's time as an independent kingdom).
Tohka123: Really enjoyable, keep up the hard work
Guest #1: I'm excited whenever new chapter comes out
C.E.W: So now Daenerys has dealt with her enemies in Slaver's Bay and is soon to meet with Yara Greyjoy. There's no point for Yara to ask for the Iron Independence as there is no Iron Islands now are nothing but barren wasteland. So Yara will want vengeance upon Daveth for killing her family, turning her brother against her and destroying her home and people. Regardless any enemy of Daveth is a friend of Daenerys I suppose.
Arya is going home, no doubt her family is going be asking questions on where she has been since she has been missing more like two years.
RHatch89: Awesome update :)
—Thanks
FrostedFlakes1305: Why do I get the distinct feeling that Arya doesn't like Daveth. Also is Daveth friends with Jon?
—So long as he treats her sister right, Arya begrudgingly puts up with him. But I'd also like to point out that Daveth is friends with Robb, and Jon has been moved further away at a different spot at Winterfell by you-know-who - so no.
Hear My Fury: Well Dany you're screwed by not bringing the elephants. With Yara about to meet Daenerys it seems like Euron will now be a third party in the next war. Which now will probably not be called Daenerys' conquest of Westeros but probably The War of Stags, Dragons and Krakens?
Bad Ass Female Fighter: Daveth is gonna have more suit to deal with, Euron, Daenerys, AND the White Walkers! Best of luck to you Oathkeeper, have fun.
God of war: So in the next chapters will be the show down between dnAryes and deavth
joharasbel: good work
—Thanks
Bio RL: I hope Arya's departure is punished