Cold.

This was her first sensation as she experienced another dream.

Even very cold, snow everywhere, frosty wind that irritated her skin. She didn't know what this place was, so she just walked forward, trying to figure out what this dream was about. There must have been some water nearby, she could hear its gentle sound.
Eventually she came across some people in ragged clothes, all standing still. As she got closer to them, she stopped for a moment, transfixed.

They were dead. Injured, some missing a limb, emaciated, some even without skin. The only thing they all had the same were intense blue eyes. They didn't seem to notice her, even as she walked past them, slowly approaching the water. She stood on the shore. She raised her hand to shield her eyes from the wind and see more, but all she could see were some boats in the distance, sailing further and further away.

She stopped looking there when she heard the rustle of clothes and the crunch of snow next to her. She looked over and one of those... undead standing next to her knelt down on one knee. After him another one, and another one. Eventually, everyone she could see was kneeling as if paying homage to her.

Only one figure remained upright, it was different from all the others. Its clothes were not destroyed, its body was not missing anything, it had no wounds or scars. His skin looked like ice. He had the same eyes as all the undead.

But he didn't kneel.

He looked at her intensely until he finally moved towards her, passing the kneeling people. First she wanted to escape, to run somewhere far away, as far away from this disturbing figure as possible, but she didn't move. Her dress was blowing in the wind, as was her partially loose hair, and she remained standing there.
The figure stopped right in front of her, close enough that she could feel its cold breath on her face. Her height reached to his shoulder so she had to raise her head a little to meet his gaze.

All she saw in his eyes was anger. Some inexplicable anger that was perhaps not directed solely at her, but at her entire species, humans.

He raised his hand to touch with its back her cheek, but stopped just before his icy hand was about to make contact with her hot skin. Despite the cold outside, warmth still radiated from her, the fire that burned inside her had not dimmed in the slightest. And this character didn't seem to like it. He smiled mysteriously, maliciously, as if challenging her, and slowly removed his hand.

She blinked her eyes against the damn wind, and at that same moment she was back in her chamber in Meereen. Daario was sleeping peacefully next to her, his arm slung around her waist. Careful not to wake him, she removed his hand and got out of bed. It was warm enough in Meereen that she didn't have to wear anything other than a thin dressing gown - because she didn't want to go out on the balcony naked.

She opened one of the doors and was immediately greeted by the fresh night air. She stepped out and leaned against the railing, breathing heavily. She felt that gaze on her all the time, that cold, cruel gaze, even slightly mocking. She didn't know who it was, but it couldn't be human. Will she come face to face with him? When? Where? Who's that? How to defeat him?
Only questions, no answers.

She knew this dream must have some meaning, she just didn't know it yet. And what's with those dead people who knelt before her? Why? What should she draw from this, what lesson?

She thought about it until she felt short gusts of wind and some squawking on her back. She frowned and turned around. When she raised her eyes to the very top of the pyramid, two dragons appeared to her eyes, next to each other they looked like yin and yang, all black Drogon and white Maelia.

"Drogon... Maelia..." she began, feeling tears welling up in her eyes. "Jurnegon rȳ aōla... Emā mazverdagon sīr olvie..."

*"Look at yourselves... How you have grown..."*

She even spoke now as if she were their mother. She smiled as she watched her children grow up and come to see her after there had been no news from them for months. They sat very close to each other, even touching at times, especially when they leaned towards her, when she held out her hand to them.

For a moment she wanted to ask them not to fly away, to stay here with her, but decided that a gesture could mean much more than any words.
She wanted to touch them, stroke them, just like she used to do, when they would lie on her lap or rub against her legs. Her hand was about to touch their scales when Drogon changed his mind and straightened up, and Maelia followed him, rubbing her head against his neck a little.

They sat atop the pyramid for a moment longer, then took flight almost at once, giving Visenya no chance to say or do anything else. It was as if they sensed what she had done to Rhaegal and Viserion.

There was nothing she could do but stare helplessly at them until they finally disappeared over the horizon.

It gave her no peace, neither this nor the dream. That was what she thought about as she sat in the largest arena in Meereen the next day, in her box, with a canopy protecting her from the sun and a few Unsullied blocking the entrance to the platform. For now, the seat on her right was empty, Hizdahr had not yet arrived. Behind her, Daario and Arthur stood a short distance away, keeping an eye on her safety. At first glance it was obvious that something was bothering her, but neither of them wanted to ask about it in the presence of the other, so they both simply remained silent.

She cleared her throat and smoothed her snow-white dress when she saw that Hizdahr had finally deigned to appear. It was long enough to cover her mid-calf boots and trousers, which she put on mainly for her comfort - or rather her mental comfort - as the cutouts in the dress reached almost to her hips.

"You're late." she said once he took his seat next to her, but she didn't bother to look at him.

"I was checking if everything is ready." he explained, straightening his clothes as soon as he sat down and gave her a slight smile, but Visenya only looked at him from the corner of her eye.

She doesn't want to be here, she would rather be doing something else at the moment, she doesn't want to look at what will happen here and she would like to revoke her decision to reopen the arenas.
The entire stands were filled with both former Masters and former slaves screaming with joy. It's true that these groups didn't mix much, but this 'entertainment' really connected them in some way.

This doesn't mean that she will suddenly start liking this 'tradition'.

She glanced briefly at the people here with her, at Missandei, who probably had the same opinion as her, at her defenders standing behind her, even at Tyrion and Varys, who had their place in the box as her advisors - although she still didn't trust them. Then she focused on the arena, where a man came out and first silenced the chanting crowd so that he could speak and open the games.

He told the people that thanks to the kindness of their majesties, and especially the Queen, he can welcome everyone to the Great Games.
The entire gathered crowd of people started cheering and clapping.

She didn't really watch as they introduced the first two players and announced them, and surely didn't listen. However, she heard them say that they fight and die for her glory.

Where's the glory in that? You die for nothing, just for the amusement of people who enjoy death but would never fight.

"They are waiting for you." she looked at Hizdahr and frowned. She didn't know what was going on, who was waiting for her? Everyone was looking at her, but she didn't know what they expected. "You have to clap your hands."

Well, eventually someone has to give the signal... And it was her, because she is the Queen.

She raised her hands slowly, considering for a moment whether she could back out of this. She shook herself, put on a fake smile and clapped. Everyone cheered again and the fight could begin.
She watched as the larger man swung his great sword over and over again, sometimes hitting his opponent's shield, and sometimes missing because smaller man had dodged. She had her own fight, to keep a smile on her face, even a shadow of it, so that no one could see how she was suffering internally.

"This one, the smaller one. You should definitely put your money on him." Daario said, leaning towards her so that his head was between her and Hizdahr. Guess he was trying to distract her somehow.

"I'm not going to bet." she replied rather dryly.

"Kings and Queens never bet on games." Hizdahr added. It's good that at least no one expects this from her. "Maybe you should go find someone who does."

"When I was still fighting in arenas, it was rare for anyone to bet on me." Daario turned from him back to her. "He'd bet against me too." he pointed with his head at her husband. "Typical novice mistake."

"I spent a lot of time in these arenas."

"How much experience do you have in fighting then?" she countered Hizdahr's comment, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm just saying that from my experience as an observer, the bigger ones beat the smaller ones much more often than the other way around."

"It's about skill, not size. And containing fear." she preferred to look at him rather than at the arena, so that's what she did, even though she had nothing else to say.

The most important thing is to control your fear to make a good decision. Immediately she started thinking about the dream again, where she came face to face with this strange man who wasn't even human. She could have turned and run, but she stayed where she was and accepted the challenge.

But is it stupidity or courage when you have no weapon?

"As soon as I entered the arena and saw that I would fight against such a beast... I knew I had victory in my pocket. Even though the crowd in the stands saw me as an easy target - skin and bones - for such a mountain of muscles, they didn't even have time to take out their money..." he pulled out his favorite dagger and started twirling it." ...and that strong-arm man was already dead. Because such musclemen usually have nothing..." here he twirled the blade and pointed its tip at Hizdahr's head. "...here. They were always too slow to stop my dagger from reaching its target." he sheathed his weapon and turned his full attention back to Visenya, smiling cockily at her. "I've always been calm when facing people bigger than me. I knew I could rest before the real challenge would come."

She even returned his smile, but then it disappeared from her face as they heard the bigger man's sword cutting off the other man's head. She grimaced, but Hizdahr had a victorious smile on his face, which he sent to Daario.

"You don't approve of this?" this time Hizdahr turned to Tyrion and Varys.

"For me, there has always been too much death in the world. I'd rather stay away from it in my free time." Tyrion replied first.

"Even the tournaments weren't much fun for me, I preferred to spend my time elsewhere."

Well, at least these two fully shared her opinion. Maybe the standards are just different here and she doesn't fit this city? No matter how hard she tries, she won't be able to change people's habits, she would have to raise a whole new generation in her world to share her opinion about these barbaric games.

And there's definitely no time for that.

"Like listening to your little birds?" she couldn't help but make this comment towards Varys.

"For example." he replied, smiling slightly at her. Maybe he was really sincere about wanting to help her? Maybe there is some truth in the fact that all he wants is to fix the world?

"But has anyone ever achieved anything great without killing and cruelty?" Hizdahr asked, after all, it was a question straight to the point...

She quickly flashed back through her entire life and came to the conclusion that she had never achieved anything without hurting someone else. It's even cruel how she used Jaime to escape from King's Landing. She used his feelings, pretended to reciprocate them, and then perfidiously rejected them.
She wouldn't be where she is without the cruelty and killing.

"This is how we set up this world." she answered him, looking at him with challenge in her eyes. "But we can change it." she said 'we', but of course she mainly meant 'I'. There was silence for a moment before she decided to add something else. "Three hundred years ago, my ancestors conquered the Seven Kingdoms. They killed many and did many cruel things, but they united the continent and established a dynasty that ruled for nearly three hundred years. Do you see the difference between this and arenas? Where is this 'greatness' in fighting pits?"

"It's an important part of Meereen. You talk about your ancestors, but the greatness of Meereen existed long before their greatness, and will continue to exist after you and I will turn to dust." she looked at him with a cold look, so incongruous with her eyes, but yet going straight to the soul. She couldn't leave it unanswered, she had to fend it off somehow...

"My father would like you." Tyrion said. He immediately remembered Tywin and his talk about how the family legacy was the only thing that mattered, because it was the legacy that would last. People will die, but the name will live on.

"It's one thing to conquer kingdoms in a bloody war, another thing is to get rich on slavery and barbaric entertainment." she finally muttered. "And one day it all will turn to dust anyway. It may come quite unexpectedly."

"Is that a threat?"

"No innocent person will ever die on my order." she said it very quickly, looking only for a moment at the arena to clap again so that the next warriors could fight, she didn't even notice that there were more than two of them now. "And those who will die, will die for a higher purpose."

" These people think so too." he pointed to the combatants. "For them, it is a higher goal, a chance for a better future."

"Their goal is not valid, it is just to entertain the audience."

"Only what you consider to be a higher goal can be it?"

She felt like saying 'yes', but bit her tongue because she realized how bad that would sound.

"Well said. You are an eloquent man, and in my experience, such people are right as often as idiots." Tyrion's comment brought a smile to her face. Maybe it was good that she let him stay? He's intelligent, he'll be useful, especially when she gets to Westeros.

She didn't say another word. She looked down at her hands, resting on her thighs. She started playing with the ring on her ring finger, which was a more interesting activity for her than watching the fight.

Is this how other people see her? As arrogant, thinking she knows what's best for everyone? Was that the impression she gave? She tries her best, but almost no one appreciates it, they prefer to complain and say that they could have made it better or, preferably, left everything as it was.
In fact, most of this generation could no longer be repaired, she had to wait for new people who would understand her vision, see that it is good and decide to live according to it. For now, all she can do is make compromises or... Or teach them obedience through cruelty.

But she doesn't want to go that far.

Lost in thought and focused on her ring, she didn't even see what was happening right in front of her. While two of the three surviving men fought, one remained behind, twirling his spear. In his other hand he clutched a dagger, ready to slit his throat as soon as he did what he has to.

He aimed at the box where the Queen was sitting and threw it with all his might, immediately afterwards driving the blade of the dagger into his throat. He sacrificed himself for this goal, the gods will forgive him.

Visenya felt a sudden jolt that almost knocked her off the chair. Instantly her heart sped up and she felt strong arms pull her to her feet and hold her by the shoulders.
She looked at the arena first. She saw one fighter win and five dead, well, one of them still dying with a blade stuck in his throat. Only then did she turn back and see that the spear that had passed her thanks to Ser Arthur had embedded itself in the chest of someone in the stands.

And then she realized what was happening. She understood when she saw people wearing golden masks emerging from the crowd. Dozens... No, hundreds, maybe even thousands.

"Protect your Queen!" Daario shouted, but she heard it as if she were underwater.

This is all an ambush on her. The Sons of the Harpy did not retreat, but gathered their strength, waiting for the opportunity to finally strike. And here they saw this opportunity. After all, she couldn't take much troops with her to the arena, only a few soldiers and her personal guards. She won't call for more, because she can't. They are surrounded, and they all have one goal: kill her.

Alright, not only her, because she saw with her own eyes how they murdered all the Lords in the stands that they could. A few of them also lunged towards her, but the Unsullied dealt with them.

"Your Grace! Your Grace! Come with me, I know the way out! I know-!" Hizdahr started to shout, running towards her, but the Sons of the Harpy stopped him mid-step and started stabbing him with knives over and over again.

So he was innocent...
She might not liked him, but she didn't like the sight of him dying in a growing pool of blood.

"Come." A tug on her arms brought her to her senses and she finally moved. She saw that Daario had already jumped down on the arena and signaled her to jump down too, he would catch her.

She had no better choice, so she walked to the edge of the wall and jumped down. Daario grabbed her around the waist and set her smoothly on the ground, then grabbed her arm.

"This way, through the players' exits." he said, pulling her to the nearest exit. She looked behind her to check on her friends. Everyone was not far behind them, but in the end it didn't matter because when they reached the entrance, it was closed on the other side. So they were definitely trapped here. He cursed fiercely and then shouted, "To the middle!"

"Are you crazy?!" she shouted back, but he held her arm too tightly for her to resist any further.

"Do you have a better idea?!" no, she doesn't. "Protect the Queen!" he shouted to all those who were still alive.

They ran to the very center of the arena where everyone made a circle around her, protecting her. Even Missandei stood behind her to watch to see if someone would try to kill her with a throw to the back, like during Mossador's execution.
She glanced briefly at everyone. Everyone was alive, no one was missing. This allowed her to breathe a small sigh of relief, but it didn't make their situation any better.

They were surrounded and were overwhelmingly outnumbered by the Sons of the Harpy. They were still alive only because they were afraid to attack them all at once and break through the rather loose cordon formed around her.
There were more and more of them, they ran into through the warriors entrances. Every now and then one of them would try to break through, but would be killed by one of the Unsullied, Daario or Arthur. Strangely enough, even Tyrion grabbed the dagger, even Varys, had something to defend himself.

"Valar Morghulis." she heard Missandei whisper right behind her.

"We won't die here today." she answered confidently. Just a moment ago, she saw it straight: They're fucked. But those two words were enough to give her courage. She couldn't lose heart, no matter how hopeless the situation was.

She was Queen, the last of her kind, the blood of Old Valyria, she was a dragon, the rightful heir to the Iron Throne. If anyone is going to have an unbreakable spirit, it's her.

It will take much more than a simple ambush to kill her. She won't die today, she knew that. She won't be afraid because it doesn't make sense. Before she dies, she has to face this ice man, she has to meet with that boy and give him his clasp. Sh won't die here today, she doesn't know how, but she will survive.

None of them will die here. She won't allow it.

"You understand?" they were still standing with their backs to each other and looking in horror at the next attackers trying to break through. She grabbed her hand. "We are destined for great things, not to be slaughtered like pigs."

Slowly her breathing calmed down. The heart was no longer beating as fast as it had been a few minutes ago, the breathing was not quick or ragged, but calm, deep enough. Eyes no longer darted around, but looked at the entire image stretching before them.

Quick, come up with something, come up with something...
She hated feeling helpless, there had to be something she could do, there had to be-

She stopped that thought. At the same moment, everything stopped for a moment, everyone's eyes focused on the sky. They heard roars. Inhuman roars.

In the glow of flames, two dragons appeared in the sky, the same two that had flown to her in the night. They came now too, they must have sensed she was in danger.
She immediately started smiling, she had tears of happiness in her eyes. She felt that fate was truly on her side and would not let her die until she fulfilled her purpose.

Drogon and Maelia landed close to each other, not far from her. Drogon caught the man who rushed towards her in his teeth, swinging him and finally tearing him into two pieces. This already scared some, and even more started to run away as both dragons began to breathe fire.

However, not everyone ran away immediately. Some were not even scared by the dragons, they were so dedicated to their goal that they were willing to die for it.
They threw all the spears they could find at the dragons. Visenya suffered with each new blade that pierced her children's flesh.

Maybe she shouldn't worry, after all, they are deadly beasts, with sharp teeth, claws, and fire-breathing. They came to save her.
But they were not immortal. Everything that lives can die, and so can they.

"Maelia! Drogon!" she shouted at them.

She made a decision quickly. She let go of Missandei's hand and walked past Arthur and Daario, who were engaged in battle, and got close enough to grab one of the spears sticking out of the dragon's body. It was embedded quite deep, but he had enough strength to pull it out and throw aside.
The animal roared in pain and immediately turned its open mouth at her.

She squinted - the smell wasn't the best, by the way - but she didn't move a step as she had when confronted by the mysterious man. She didn't think about what others would think - probably that she was crazy. It only lasted a few seconds, the white dragon realized who dared to approach her and stopped roaring. Instead, it looked at her closely, getting even closer.

Visenya reached out and this time managed to touch the head, stroking it gently.

She felt an inexplicable bond with these animals, they were part of her family, she treated them like children. They were more than just a part of her family history, something that secured the Targaryens' throne. They were wonderful, beautiful beings who were much smarter than some men.
She should never have locked up Rhaegal and Viserion. They didn't deserve this.

She doesn't have to control them, they are not slaves. She should try her best to show them what is wrong, they would understand. Now she knows. What she would have given to have known it earlier...

Her moment of joy did not last long, because another spear pierced Maelia's body, to which Drogon immediately reacted by burning the man who dared to do so.

There's only one thing she can do to get out of here, to let the army know what's going on and get the situation under control. She can't get out of here through any door, she has to fly away.

She took a deep breath, pulled up her dress at the front so that it didn't restrict her movements, and took the first step. She grabbed the spikes on the tail with one hand and put her foot on the white beast's leg. Then she let go of her dress, grabbed another spike, and took another step. From there she managed to pull herself onto its back and find a comfortable enough place so that nothing would sting into her.

"Sōvegon." Fly. she said, gripping the spikes so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

She didn't feel confident, feeling the dragon's every move beneath her, but there was no turning back. She had to hold on tight and hope that she wouldn't fall and kill herself with this idea.
As Maelia start a run to take off, Drogon was right behind her.

The start was the worst. As Maelia bounced off the ground, for a moment she thought she would lose support under her feet. Then it only got better as soon as the flight started. She only looked down for a moment, at everyone looking at her in shock, then she just focused on what was in front of her.
The whole world opened up to her. She was in a place where no one could catch her, on the dragon's back, Drogon flying next to them. The three of them left the arena.

Now she was sure, she was destined for great things. Her destiny is to change this world, to free it from the rulers, who torment their own subjects. And she will, no matter what the cost.

After over a hundred years, the Targaryens rode dragons again.

Visenya had dreamed the night before, about the Night King and the army of undead, seeing people fleeing on boats on the horizon.
Robb was dreaming today, he was standing among the people who - like him - watched the girl fly away on the dragon.

On a fucking dragon...