After killing her fifth group of tiger cloaks, Rhaegal rose up high to observe the situation.
There were battles happening all across Volantis. She could even see some in eastern Volantis—a few minutes ago, Drogon had annihilated the gate leading into that part of the city, allowing an army of furious ex-slaves to enter, accompanied by some of Mother's soldiers. And most of the battles were ending in victory by the ex-slaves.
Then Rhaegal looked at a massive temple nearby. She lowered her chin briefly to touch the telepathic necklace she was wearing.
Sisters, it looks like our side has the upper hand, for now at least, Rhaegal thought. I currently happen to be near the Temple of the Lord of Light, so I'll eliminate its leadership now.
And I was hoping to do that part! Viserion replied. Fighting the red priests might be less boring than these weak little soldiers! She let out a mental sigh. But if you're closer to the temple, we'll leave it to you.
Don't forget to disguise your presence, Drogon warned.
I will not.
Rhaegal murmured a certain incantation, one she'd learned from the Royal Sorceress in preparation for this mission:
"Permit the passage of light… Invisible Form."
The green dragon's body immediately became as transparent as glass. It wasn't perfect invisibility, due to her inexperience with this spell, but it would make her impossible for humans to see as long as she was flying at high speed.
As planned before this raid, the leadership of R'hllor's faith needed to die because of their fanatical attempts to kill Wilmarina and her daughters. At the same time, killing them openly would make the conquest of Volantis more difficult, as more Volantenes worshipped R'hllor than any other god or pantheon of gods. That was why Rhaegal was using this spell.
Rhaegal dived towards the Temple of the Lord of Light. She aimed at the highest of the temple's many towers.
A window at one of the highest floors of the tower was open. Rhaegal entered through that window and landed on a spiral staircase inside, then immediately began bounding up the steps.
She reached a door decorated with a swirling red pattern that seemed to have neither beginning nor end. She opened the door and found it to not even be locked.
Beyond, she saw a slender human man sitting on a bed. His face was almost entirely covered by elaborate tattoos of swirling flames. His body was covered by a red robe adorned with orange and gold embroidery. And he showed no alarm at the sudden intruder.
"Welcome to my humble rooms," said Benerro, High Priest of R'hllor, in a voice so calm that Rhaegal found it unnerving. He stood up from the bed and bowed deeply. "Honoured Dragon, I am blessed to meet you like this, face to face."
Rhaegal paused in confusion. She couldn't sense anyone else in the room besides the two of them, nor could she sense any magic that had been set up here. But the situation was completely outside her expectations.
"...Do you not realise why I'm here?" Rhaegal said. She decided to keep her invisibility spell active for now, even if it didn't really conceal her presence.
"To take my life, of course," Benerro said. "It is the least I deserve, after my abominable sins."
"W-What!?"
Benerro straightened his body. His face was visible again, and it was stricken with despair—apparently sincere despair.
"I have misunderstood R'hllor's will. Those four beings who now serve Azor Ahai... I mistook them for demons at first. I commanded Priest Moqorro to slay them no matter the cost. To aid him, I even sacrificed a young boy in the care of the temple, a boy with an ancient and royal bloodline… Most fortunately, Moqorro failed."
Rhaegal had the thought that Wilmarina and her daughters didn't serve her mother in any shape or form. However, she decided to stay quiet about that.
And he didn't mention the attack by the Fiery Hand… but then again, they were acting on their own initiative...
"...You… I, we were expecting your group to continue targeting those four," Rhaegal said. "Now you say that you've changed your mind!?"
"Precisely!" Benerro said, his voice filled with both regret and certainty. "Since that day, I have not been able to see anything of Meereen in the flames, but I have been able to see the cities you have conquered! Yunkai, New Ghis, Tolos, Elyria, Mantarys… you have conquered them, mandated that they phase out slavery, and given food to their poorest citizens… the last of which would be impossible if Meereen were still poor and starving. Tell me, Honoured Dragon, what is Meereen like in the present day?"
Rhaegal took a few moments to compose her words. "Meereen is… in the present day, the farms have magical crops that yield far more for far less effort. Outbreaks of disease are now a thing of the past. The city's waste no longer floods the nearby river and sea, which has benefited fishing. The masters no longer dare to abuse their former slaves, not even in secret. And… all this is thanks to our four recent guests."
Admitting all this was painful to Rhaegal. She and her sisters had been actively detrimental to their mother's cause… until the Royal Sorceress had defeated them, changed them into more rational beings. Even now, Rhaegal felt like she was less useful than Wilmarina Noscrim.
Benerro nodded. "Just as I expected. These beings are not demons, but spirits of pure benevolence, aiding Azor Ahai in bringing salvation to this blighted world. Yet I initially misunderstood them, all because of their association with ice…" The priest clenched his fists. "To atone for my sin… I must do all that I can."
Rhaegal felt a sense of dread. "Wait, just what do you mean by that?"
In response, Benerro walked over to a bedside table and took out a bundle of paper from a drawer. He flicked through the bundle and showed one sheet of paper to Rhaegal.
The dragon skimmed through the writing on the sheet. She soon came across lines that made her gasp.
"I fear the Old Blood will soon have me killed. They will cling to their slaves until the very end, so they cannot abide someone who supports the Breaker of Chains.
That is no reason for me to abandon Daenerys Targaryen's cause. She is Azor Ahai, R'hllor's chosen, and Volantis would be best served under her rule."
"You… don't tell me, you plan to die for Mother's cause!?" Rhaegal exclaimed. "To make sure all your followers are united in hatred for the city's old rulers, and united in devotion to her!?"
Benerro returned the bundle of paper to the drawer, then took out a dagger from his robe. It was a plain and unadorned thing, but still capable of killing a human.
"...Honoured Dragon, I ask that you vacate this temple quickly, and discreetly," Benerro said. "I am about to be killed by an assassin sent by the Old Blood. There must not be any evidence to contradict that."
Rhaegal shook her head slowly. However, she wasn't going to try talking this priest out of his self-appointed task. First, she didn't have the time for that—there was still battle raging outside this temple. Second, Benerro's "assassination" would be beneficial to her mother. And third, she wasn't sure if she could even persuade him to stop.
But there was one thing she could do. She cancelled the invisibility spell with a thought, and her body became opaque again.
Benerro's eyes widened in awe. He dropped the knife and fell to his knees.
"I had… I had glimpsed your kind in the flames… but that is nothing… nothing compared to seeing you in the flesh. Oh, Lord of Light… you have granted your foolish servant a blessing I do not deserve…"
After kneeling for a few moments, Benerro unsteadily stood up and picked up the dagger.
"Thank you for listening to my final words, Honoured Dragon—no, Honoured Rhaegal," Benerro said. "Please convey my apologies to those spirits of benevolence… though perhaps they may not accept them."
Benerro cut himself on the arms several times—presumably, he wanted to make it look like he'd struggled with the "assassin". Then he held the dagger in front of his chest, took one last breath, and plunged the dagger into his flesh.
Rhaegal watched as Benerro slumped to the floor. She listened to his heartbeat became disordered, then slow down and eventually stop.
Well… I suppose that there's no need to do anything about the other leaders, then...
Rhaegal left the room and began walking down the stairs. Only when she reached the open window again did she remember to reapply her invisibility spell.
Drogon, Viserion, Rhaegal conveyed through her telepathic necklace. You'll never guess what just happened in the temple...
As she jumped out from the window and flew high into the sky, Rhaegal told her sisters about the High Priest's unexpected decision and then death.
Viserion actually reacted with disappointment. It feels a bit too easy… what if you instead killed the other leaders, and made it look like assassins did it? That would make people hate the Old Blood even more, wouldn't it?
There's a risk of making a mistake, killing them in a way that doesn't look like human work, Drogon pointed out. Since we've been given this chance, we should remove as many risks as possible.
Yes, and that's why I decided to leave now, Rhaegal thought. Changing the topic, I noticed that both of you are in the eastern half now. Should I cross over as well?
You should, the bulk of the fighting is here now, Drogon replied.
But… just warning you now, Rhaegal, Viserion thought. The fighting's turned ugly over here.
...I can imagine.
Rhaegal flew eastward to the richer half of Volantis, crossing over a river and then a tall wall of black stone.
Eastern Volantis was a very different place to western Volantis. The buildings here were all made of carved stones and painted in bright colours, and not a single one was less than three storeys tall, while the tallest were immense towers of over twenty storeys. There were also splendid gardens and parks full of lush trees, shrubs and flowers, as well as streams and ponds.
At this very moment, there were over a hundred battles happening in the city, with blood drenching many of the streets. Dead bodies were everywhere to be seen: mostly those of tiger cloaks, some of ex-slaves or Mother's soldiers.
Yet some of the bodies belonged to a fourth category. For this reason, Rhaegal watched the carnage very closely.
Rhaegal hadn't even been flying over eastern Volantis for a full minute before she saw something that made her blood boil with rage.
"Found another one!" said a male ex-slave. He was dragging a crying woman in fine silk clothing.
"No, please" said the noblewoman, one of the members of Volantis' Old Blood. "You can have my jewels, my entire fortune—but I beg you, don't—"
A female ex-slave struck the noblewoman in the face using the handle of an axe, drawing blood. "Begging for mercy now!?" she shouted. "You masters never listened to me when I begged you to stop!"
There were three other ex-slaves also present around the crying noblewoman. The men among them were dropping their trousers while laughing about how they'd make her pay for her crimes as a master.
Rhaegal had seen and heard enough. She swooped down and landed amidst the group. As she landed, her tail brushed against the arm of the ex-slave who was holding the noblewoman, making him scream in pain and release his grip.
"NO!" Rhaegal roared. "You're fighting for your freedom, taking revenge on the helpless is a waste of time!"
Some of the ex-slaves cowered back. Others looked defiant.
"M-My arm! Y-You bitch… we should be on the same side!"
"You don't understand! The masters, they used to treat us like animals, killed and raped us whenever they wanted!"
"MY MOTHER WAS SOLD AS A SEX SLAVE!" Rhaegal snapped back. "SHE STILL REFUSES TO ALLOW POINTLESS SUFFERING LIKE THIS! NOW, BEGONE, UNLESS YOU WANT TO BURN!"
To emphasise that point, Rhaegal emitted a small gout of flame from her mouth. That caused all of the ex-slaves to flee.
Then Rhaegal turned towards the noblewoman, who was shivering on the ground.
"N-No, please, don't burn me…" the noblewoman closed her eyes. "Great Balerion, please protect your l-loyal follower…"
"I'm here to protect you, aren't you listening?" Rhaegal said, too impatient to be courteous. "Come with me!"
The noblewoman would not change her mind, so Rhaegal simply picked her up in one wing. The dragon then contacted her sisters via telepathy and she learned that any prisoners of war were being placed on high rooftops to keep them safe for the time being.
Rhaegal jumped up to the level of the rooftops, ignoring her passenger's screams. She eventually found the roof of a six-storey tower and set the noblewoman down, to join the eight who were already present here.
The noblewoman was helped to her feet by some of the others. All nine of the Old Blood looked at the green dragon fearfully. Perhaps they feared that Rhaegal and her sisters were just caching them to eat later.
Rhaegal examined the nine humans huddling together on the roof. Some had minor wounds or torn clothing, but they were otherwise healthy—physically, at least.
You should have fled before all this happened, Rhaegal thought bitterly. Then you'd be safe.
But that wouldn't have helped them at all. So when Rhaegal opened her mouth, she said, "Stay up here if you want to live. Once this is all finished, you'll be exiled from the city—but you'll still have a chance to live, if you're willing to try."
Without another word, Rhaegal took off from the roof and resumed flying.
When will this end? When will all this fighting and killing and raping stop?
Not even a full minute later, Rhaegal spotted a pitched battle in a plaza. She descended and quickly killed the tiger cloaks using swipes of her wings and tail. When she took off again, the ex-slaves raised their weapons and chanted, "RHAEGAL! RHAEGAL! RHAEGAL!"
That gave Rhaegal a faint sense of achievement. This lasted for approximately one and a half minutes before she spotted a baby being thrown out of a window.
"Honestly!" Rhaegal growled.
Rhaegal dived and caught the baby on the soft membrane of one wing, then landed on the ground.
The baby did not cry. This wasn't surprising given that he was already dead from the massive wound on his head.
Without making a sound, Rhaegal gently laid the baby on the ground. It probably wouldn't be the only time she failed to save someone today. She hoped it would be the only time she failed to save someone too young to even speak.
Then Rhaegal looked up at the window the baby had been thrown out of. A couple of heads were poking out of the window, looks of shock on their faces.
Rhaegal leaped up to the window. There were three ex-slaves inside, and she showed them as much mercy as she showed the tiger cloaks of this city. When she was done, the once-white walls of the room were stained red with blood.
But this… doesn't bring that human baby back to life. Or any of the others in this city, who weren't saved by me or my sisters…
Yet screams and clashes of weapons could still be heard from outside this room. Rhaegal wasn't helping anyone by being paralysed with thought. Thus, with a heavy heart, she forced herself to take flight again.
Rhaegal continued patrolling Volantis for another hour, sometimes killing tiger cloaks, sometimes stopping war crimes. And even though her body was hardly affected by the activity, her mind was worn down more and more. Even seeing her two sisters from time to time, as well as the soldiers wearing Targaryen colours, didn't give her any relief.
Finally, at some point in the early afternoon, the fighting died down. The tiger cloaks had all died or surrendered—the latter numbered about three thousand, when the original number had been over fifteen thousand. The Old Blood—those who hadn't already fled Volantis or been killed in the uprising—now numbered about four hundred.
These two kinds of prisoners were both subjected to furious gazes from the ex-slaves. The only reason they were still alive was due to being guarded by the dragons and Mother's human soldiers.
"STAND ASIDE!"
"WHY ARE YOU PROTECTING THEM!?"
"THEY DESERVE NO MERCY!"
These shouts came from the most defiant of the ex-slaves. A larger proportion, despite looking furious, remained silent. They'd already seen the might of the dragons firsthand.
The dragons, for all they had grown in recent months, still didn't have the oratory skills to change the minds of this crowd of ex-slaves. They could only leave that job to someone else.
"People of Volantis!" said the voice of the dragons' mother, transmitted from Drogon's telepathy necklace. "I am Daenerys Targaryen, queen of Dragon's Bay, and I ask your attention!"
That caused the crowd to fall silent. Mother was as awe-imposing as always, even from a distance.
"Through the weapons I have given you, and the direct aid of my daughters, you have earned your freedom!" Mother said. "In return for this, I do not ask you to become slaves to a new master! Nor do I ask you to continue living with your previous masters! All I ask is that you permit these defeated wretches to leave Volantis alive!"
That was met with angry retorts from the crowd, mostly variations on "You don't understand!" and "What would you know of our suffering!?"
"Over two years ago, I was sold to a Dothraki khal!" Mother said, striving to be heard over the noise. "He impregnated me, a girl of merely thirteen! And he murdered my brother, the last family I had!"
The last part, Rhaegal knew, was a creative interpretation of the truth. Viserys Targaryen had invited his own death by bringing a blade into the Dothraki's holy city and then threatening the lives of Mother and her unborn child. And Viserys was the one who'd sold Mother to Khal Drogo in the first place.
However, the speech did have an effect on the crowd of ex-slaves, quieting them considerably.
"But still, why would you want to show these masters mercy…?"
"Mhysa… we heard that in Meereen, you keep the masters around. Why?"
"Because she is more generous than the likes of us, clearly!"
The last sentence came from a newcomer to the scene: an extremely old woman who was approaching the crowd and the dragons, using a cane to help her walk. Her face was wrinkled as tree bark, while her back was hunched over from age. She was flanked on each side by burly guards with short swords sheathed at their hips.
The crowd quickly gave way to this newcomer. Based on their fearful reverence, Rhaegal could deduce who this old woman was.
Mother… Rhaegal thought. It's the widow of the waterfront. That human who… She thought back to her lessons. That human who's the most powerful in Volantis, outside of the Old Blood.
Thank you, Rhaegal, Mother replied. Out loud, she said, "I have been told you are Volantis' renowned widow of the waterfront! Is there a personal name that I might address you by!?"
"You may call me as you wish, given that you have all the power here," the widow replied casually. She came to a stop about ten paces away from Rhaegal, close enough for the dragon to see her black eyes and the intelligence that lay within. "Rather, I should be asking how to address you. Would you prefer 'Your Grace', the style used in Westeros?"
"You may," Mother said. "Now, let us move on to more important matters. My plan for the Old Blood of Volantis is the same as that for the aristocracy of other cities I have recently conquered. Execute the heads of the remaining houses, for their foolishness in remaining and attempting to resist. The others will be exiled from Volantis, with a pittance of food, clothing and tools to allow them to survive. Their surviving soldiers are to be exiled in the same manner—and stripped of their armour, to be clear."
The widow scoffed. "Far more generous than the plan I would have had in store, if the decision were mine… But the decision is yours, Your Grace, and I will not waste my life trying to contest it."
The captives behind the dragons breathed a collective sigh of relief.
"Then there is a new topic to discuss: the role of Volantis in your growing empire," the widow said. "You have treated each of the cities you've conquered, from Astapor to Meereen, in a different manner. And I have yet to hear the details of your more recent conquests. So, I'm ashamed to admit, I'm uncertain what you will do with us."
Rhaegal was briefly confused by the widow's words. Then she realised that her family's conquests of neighbouring cities like Yunkai had begun just ten days ago. This widow of the waterfront might be an influential merchant queen, but she could only receive news travelling at the speed of a ship over water or a rider over land. Volantis was simply too far away to receive the news in such a short time.
I've been spoiled by having access to instant communication… Most of the world doesn't have this…
"In the short term, you need not fear any war reparations," Mother said. "I have already kept a few dozen of the Volantene ships that attacked Meereen for myself. That more than covers the costs, even of the assistance I have given you today."
The widow raised an eyebrow. "Speaking purely as a merchant: you are far too generous, girl. Unless you learn to be more selfish, you might find yourself being taken advantage of."
That elicited gasps from the ex-slaves and also from the captives. It wasn't how someone was meant to speak to a monarch, especially not a monarch who commanded the unrivalled—almost unrivalled might of dragons.
Yet Mother simply laughed. "You are quite bold indeed. Tyrion spoke truly of you."
"That dwarf did make it to you after all?" the widow said. "I hope you've found a use for him. He was quite the interesting character when I briefly met him."
"He is useful indeed… perhaps I might send him to you as an envoy, if you'd like to meet him again," Mother said. "And I shall take your merchant's advice into consideration. Moving on, one of my demands is that Volantis remain a city free from slavery—of course, that is your own wish as well."
The widow reached up to her right cheek to touch the scars there—the place where she would have once had a slave tattoo. From what Rhaegal had heard, her tattoo was originally a single tear, the mark of a pleasure slave.
"You assume correctly…" the widow murmured.
"My other requirement is to establish trade agreements with the new Volantis," Mother said. "I'm sure we can come up with agreements favourable to both parties."
The widow chuckled quietly. "Favourable to you most of all, I'm sure. Still, that is acceptable… What are your terms?"
In response to this, Drogon took out a thick bundle of paper from a pouch clipped to her waist, then handed the bundle over to the widow.
"You should have just received our terms," Mother said. "Together with other leading figures in Volantis, you may take your time reading through them. I don't expect an immediate answer."
"Planned everything, it seems… then I'll gather up other major figures in the city, and we'll have this read completely by tomorrow."
"I am grateful for your dedication. One of my daughters will remain in Volantis for a few days, so we may continue our discussions later."
And, it went without saying, this would continue to remind the Volantenes of the power of dragons.
The widow's lips crinkled into a smile. "It may not be settled yet… but Volantis is now a free city. Even when I sent the Lannister and his companions off to you, I was afraid to even hope… yet you have delivered marvellously. Thank you, Your Grace."
With the faint sound of creaking bones, the widow bowed. Many of the other ex-slaves bowed as well and thanked Rhaegal's mother in half a dozen languages.
"I am simply ensuring that people no longer have to suffer as I did," Mother said, more quietly than before.
After that was a lengthy cleanup process. Fires were put out, damaged buildings received makeshift repairs, wounded people received care, the dead were buried and the prisoners of war—after a few executions—were exiled from the city.
The last of these things stirred up more discontent. As the Old Blood and the tiger cloaks were led out of the city, they were watched by crowds of ex-slaves, many still holding weapons.
Will a fight break out once all of us leave? Rhaegal wondered. Or will the fighting resume even sooner than that, despite one of us staying temporarily?
It would likely take generations for the hatred to cool. Until then, the only way to keep the deaths to a minimum was to separate the oppressors from the oppressed.
Rhaegal thought back to the conquest of Astapor from almost a year ago. She hadn't contributed to the fighting due to still being small and weak, but she still remembered it quite well and had heard about it from other people.
After Mother left, it spiralled into destruction… Everyone blames that on a butcher seizing power and then being a terrible king.
But what if Astapor's revolution hadn't been so violent in the first place? Then the people of Astapor might not have seen violence as a good way to solve problems. They might have pushed back against Cleon's coup.
Or perhaps I'm just projecting my own insecurities...
Rhaegal helped oversee the cleanup for hours. It was something she'd seen repeatedly before—in Yunkai, New Ghis, Tolos, Elyria and Mantarys—so she no longer paid much attention to it. During this time, Rhaegal and her sisters ate some dried meat they'd brought with them for today's conquest.
By sunset, all of the Old Blood and tiger cloaks had left the city. The ex-slaves now began celebrating their newfound freedom, cracking open casks of alcohol and feasting on dozens of different dishes—hastily cooked but still smelling quite delicious.
The dragons did not join in the festivities. First, some of them needed to return to Meereen promptly, as they couldn't leave their mother with reduced protection for too long. Second, some of the ex-slaves still had ill feelings towards them for stopping the execution of the prisoners of war. Third… and only applicable to Rhaegal herself… was a desire to leave this war-torn city and never look back.
After some discussion, it was decided that Drogon would be the one temporarily staying in Volantis, as her size would make her ideal for intimidation. One hundred of Mother's soldiers would stay in the city with her. Rhaegal and Viserion would return to Meereen by air, while the remaining soldiers would return by ship.
"We'll see you again soon," Rhaegal said to Drogon. "I pray that you don't encounter any more trouble here."
"And you had better not pick up a mate while you're here!" Viserion said, looking at the black dragon intently. "We can't allow you to be the first of us to reach that goal!"
"Is mating all you think about?" Drogon said, rolling her eyes. "And regardless, I doubt there's any male here who fits my standards."
Eventually, after the sun had dipped below the horizon, Rhaegal and Viserion took flight. They rose higher and higher into the black sky, feeling out the air currents as they ascended.
This was something that Rhaegal had never been able to properly explain to humans, only to her sisters and to the Royal Sorceress. As a dragon, she was innately associated with both fire and wind. And in recent days, during their many long-distance flights around Essos, Rhaegal and her sisters had developed a sense for the wind, for the very flow of the atmosphere. It wasn't like the sense of touch, nor any of the other senses. Rather, she could simply know all of the winds around her, their directions and their speeds.
After a few minutes, they found a particularly fast wind blowing eastward. The two dragons entered this wind and began heading towards Meereen.
At first, they simply rode the wind while making little effort, similar to birds during migration. However, Rhaegal gradually flew faster and faster, impatient to get away from Volantis.
"Hey, what's the problem!?" Viserion shouted, as she flapped her wings to keep up. "There's no need to rush!"
"...I just want to return home as soon as possible!" Rhaegal shouted back. "Mother is at risk without us at her side, remember the attempt just two days ago!?"
During the preparation for the conquest of Volantis, an extremely unusual assassin had tried to slip into the Great Pyramid of Meereen. This assassin could only be described as a humanoid shadow given physical form. But it could not move any further than the entrance to the pyramid—this turned out to be because it was blocked by defensive spells originally set up by Wilmarina. The shadow assassin had been unharmed by human weapons, only perishing when Drogon flew down and breathed fire on it.
"Perhaps… but that's not your only reason, is it!?"
The two dragons continued their flight, with Rhaegal continuing to dismiss Viserion's protests and demands for more information.
They passed over the smoky, volcano-filled landscape of Valyria. Even though it was Rhaegal's second time flying over this ruined country, she still felt a shudder go down her spine.
They passed over the city of Elyria, and a few minutes later the city of Tolos. While it was impossible to see much detail due to her high altitude, there were no signs of any conflict in these cities, suggesting they weren't trying to resist Mother's rule.
They passed over Dragon's Bay, once known as Slaver's Bay. In the gloom of night, the water looked like a sheer expanse of black, broken only by the occasional wave big enough to see.
Shortly before sunrise, when only the first few rays of light were visible on the eastern horizon, they spotted Meereen. It was a bit to the north of their current direction, so the two dragons left the wind and turned towards the city.
Rhaegal had lived in many places in her short life: the Dothraki Sea, Qarth, Astapor, Yunkai, with Meereen being only the most recent. Yet when she saw those colourful pyramids in the distance, she felt at peace.
The two dragons landed on the uppermost terrace of the greatest of the pyramids. Their mother was already here waiting for them, dressed in a thick white robe to protect her from the chilling breeze. Next to her was Barristan in his usual white armour.
"Mother!" Rhaegal said as she landed. She briefly glared at Viserion. "You didn't need to get up so early to wait for us!"
"From what Viserion told me an hour ago, I clearly do," Mother said. She pulled the two dragons into a hug. "Now, just what happened in Volantis for you to be so… unsettled?"
Rhaegal pulled away from the hug and looked down. She'd sooner fight the Royal Sorceress in a battle to the death than admit the truth.
At the same time, she could no longer continue her current path.
"Mother… what I'm about to say, it's cowardly, a betrayal of my duties—"
"You are no coward, Rhaegal," Mother said firmly. "And you have been extraordinarily diligent in your duties."
"More than me, that's for certain," Viserion added from the side.
"You need not fear, we will not judge you for what you say," Barristan said.
"But I… I…" Rhaegal lifted her head and met her mother's gaze. "What I want is to stop fighting!"
There was a moment of silence. Rhaegal looked at the faces of the others, expecting to see disappointment or disgust. But she found neither of those things.
"Oh, Rhaegal…" Mother said, gently placing her hands on the green dragon's shoulders. "I should never have subjected you to this in the first place…"
"You aren't… disappointed with me?"
"Rhaegal, I am your mother. What kind of mother would force her children to fight against their wishes?"
Rhaegal moved her wings so they were touching Mother's body on each side. "But we are dragons. Fighting isn't nearly so dangerous for us as it is for humans."
"You are still my daughters," Mother insisted. "I want you to be not only safe, but also happy."
"Also, we've already crushed everyone in Essos who could threaten us," Viserion said casually. "If anyone else tries, Drogon and I could easily handle them! You don't need to worry."
"I have lived for quite a while," Barristan said, ruefully brushing a hand over his snow-white hair, "and seen many warriors retire from the battlefield, warriors who could have chosen to keep fighting for years or even decades. There is nothing to be ashamed of in this choice."
"Th-Thank you, for being so considerate…" Rhaegal said. "I'm still willing to fight if there's no other choice, such as if Meereen is in great danger. But outside of that… what should I do from now on? I… outside of fighting, I've been taught basic language and etiquette and other things, but not many useful skills…"
"We can take our time thinking about that," Mother said. "For now, you've just fought in a tremendous battle and flown half the length of Essos, you must be feeling hungry and tired. You need rest."
The four of them left the terrace and went into Mother's apartments. Even in her current state, Rhaegal noticed that there were no signs of Hizdahr sleeping here.
Breakfast was brought up in a matter of minutes. Rhaegal took a bite of bacon and began chewing, though it did little to improve her mood.
"Viserion… if it's alright to ask… why are you and Drogon still able to… keep going?" Rhaegal asked in between bites.
Viserion swallowed before speaking. "Well… it's hard to explain. The way I feel about this is… there's always suffering in the world. If my actions can reduce that, even by a little, then I think it's worth fighting. And needless to say, that's if they genuinely do reduce suffering! Blundering around thoughtlessly wouldn't help anyone..."
Rhaegal understood that logic well enough, even if she personally could no longer agree with it.
Viserion… for all that she might seem flippant, she can be far more mature than me at times…
"But you don't have to follow the same path," Viserion said. She took a drink of warm milk. "Let's see… I remember hearing about dragons in the place our guests originate from, but what did those dragons do for a living?"
"I remember that," Mother said. "Wilmarina told me that some had occupations suited to their skills, such as blacksmithing, cooking, or sculpting of rock or metal, all of which can benefit from fire and the ability to handle hot material without harm. But those occupations weren't the only options. In fact, Wilmarina told me that any kind of monster in her society is free to work in any kind of occupations that catches her interest."
"Theirs is a society with extraordinary freedom," Barristan commented. "And it seems Meereen is heading in a similar direction. Perhaps in a few years' time, the people will have comparable freedom to choose their futures."
"But that wasn't all, was it?" Viserion said. "Weren't there some monsters who choose not to work?"
Rhaegal was reminded of a certain conversation with the Royal Sorceress from a few weeks ago. In it, Wilmarina had admitted that some in her society did nothing but laze around all day, eating and drinking and playing and mating.
"That's not for me," Rhaegal said quickly, trying to interrupt herself from feeling embarrassed. "Even if I retire from the battlefield, I want to be useful."
The conversation lasted for the rest of breakfast. While it ended without Rhaegal deciding on a future path, it had given her a number of ideas.
After breakfast, Viserion headed off for, in her words, "a good long bath to get all this sweat off!"
Rhaegal opted not to join her. She would have liked to accompany her mother and Barristan to the former's work, but Mother firmly refused to let her do anything other than resting.
Instead of bathing or sleeping, Rhaegal had a different idea of resting in mind. She slipped out an open window, flew down the side of the Great Pyramid and landed softly on one of the lower terraces. This terrace was occupied by a garden mainly used for growing fruit trees.
There were many gardeners present, and they barely looked up as Rhaegal joined them.
"Greetings, Princess Rhaegal," one of the nearest gardeners said. "Did you want to pick up fruit again? This morning, we picked some fresh pears, I'm sure they'd be very sweet and juicy."
Dragons like Rhaegal rarely consumed plant material and, when they did, it was usually an accompaniment to meat. But Rhaegal would sometimes carry up fruits and vegetables to the top of the pyramid for the benefit of her mother, Missandei and other humans who lived up there—it saved a human courier the trouble of walking up all those stairs. It also gave her an excuse to visit the lower gardens on a regular basis.
Rhaegal thus accepted a basket of pears while thanking the gardeners for their efforts. She didn't leave immediately, however. She spent ten more minutes walking around the terrace, intermittently asking the gardeners about their work.
There were both males and females working in the garden, ranging from children as young as ten to white-haired elders. Most received only the bare minimum of attention from Rhaegal.
One, a slender Meereenese boy of perhaps fifteen or sixteen, received as much attention from her as the rest of the gardeners combined. Rhaegal turned her head from side to side, so as to avoid seeming obvious, yet her eyes kept flicking back to him.
She watched him carefully pruning away excess growth on a blueberry bush, watched how his muscles flexed with each movement. She listened to him breathing as he exerted his body. She smelled the sweat running down his skin, along with the odours of the soil and vegetation he was working with.
When Rhaegal started fantasising about tasting that sweat, she knew it was time to depart.
But first…
Rhaegal stopped in front of the boy. "Ezzon, it seems like every day that I see some of you pruning," she said, doing her very best to sound casual. "Your dedication is truly admirable."
The boy stopped moving his shears, turned and bowed.
"Thank you for the praise!" Ezzon said. Due to his bowing, Rhaegal couldn't actually see his face anymore, just the red-black curls of hair on top of his head. "We do not deserve the honour of your regular visits."
Rhaegal walked on. Spending too long talking to the boy would cause people to start whispering, and that was the last thing she wanted.
When she was done with her visit, Rhaegal hooked the basket of pears over her tail, then spread her wings and took flight. She reached the royal apartments at the apex and then sighed in exhaustion.
I do need to sleep… it's been probably twenty-eight or twenty-nine hours since the last time I woke… But first, I should cleanse myself...
Rhaegal set down the basket and headed to the bathroom. Viserion was no longer here, so Rhaegal had no one to disturb her as she sank into a tub filled with lukewarm water.
For a good quarter of an hour, Rhaegal soaked in the water and scrubbed her body. Sometimes she imagined someone else's hands doing the scrubbing, and that made her body shiver and heat up. If she had been less tired, she might have started doing more than just scrubbing.
When she was done with her bath, Rhaegal dried herself and headed to the bedroom. Here she saw Viserion already sleeping in Mother's bed—an annoying habit of hers when Mother wasn't around. Next to her was little Missandei, sitting in a chair and reading a book.
It's fortunate that Viserion's already asleep... otherwise, I'd have to endure her relentless teasing about when I'm going to mate… couple with… take the next step with… h-him…
Missandei looked up. "Welcome back, Rhaegal," she said with a faint smile. "Your sister asked me to tell stories to her until she fell asleep."
Many would have thought the idea embarrassing. Rhaegal simply asked for the same thing and lay down on another bed.
"I was telling Viserion about the Lord of Harmony. Would you like to hear about him too, or would you like to hear about something different?"
"The former..." Rhaegal yawned. "I'd like to know more about your culture, Missandei…"
"As you wish. Then I'll tell you about how the Lord created the stars. After creating the moon, there was now light during the gloom of night. Yet the moon was more fickle than the Lord had planned, sometimes shining brightly, sometimes not shining at all. And so the Lord decided to create less fickle sources of light…"
Rhaegal closed her eyes. She was grateful for Missandei's presence here. Without her, the dragon would still be thinking about Ezzon… and then she wouldn't be able to sleep for hours.