Game of Thrones(ASOIAF): The Sorcerer Prince

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Harry Potter and all of its characters belong to J.K. Rowling.

ASOIAF and all of its characters belong to GRRM

I own nothing but the original characters I make.

”Dialogue”

’Thoughts’

-Author notes-

Chapter 127: The Queen of Yunkai

Daenerys Targaryen watched from her tent as the gates of Yunkai swung open.

She could see them from here…her Unsullied, marching in perfect formation. Behind them came the Dothraki, their horses thundering across the dusty plain, their arakhs raised high. And at the very front, leading the charge, were Jorah Mormont and her bloodriders.

The gates had been opened from within. The Hound and his twenty enhanced Dothraki had done their work well. Daenerys had watched them slip into the city during the night.

And now the city was theirs for the taking.

Missandei stood beside her, the young handmaiden’s dark eyes fixed on the distant walls. The girl had been at her side since Astapor, since Daenerys had first freed her from the slavers. 

”Your Grace,” Missandei said softly. ”You look distressed. Are you worried that your army will lose the battle?”

Daenerys shook her head, not taking her eyes off her men. ”No. I am sure my army will win. The Unsullied are inside their walls. The Dothraki are riding through their streets. The battle has already been won.”

”Then why do you look so troubled?”

Daenerys was silent for a long moment. She watched as the first plumes of smoke began to rise from the city, the distant sounds of battle drifting across the plain. She could hear the screams, even from here. The clash of steel, the cries of the dying.

”I only hope no innocent lives are lost in the process,” she said finally. ”Even though I know that is not very likely.”

Missandei nodded slowly. ”No. It is not very likely. I have seen many men die before. It is what happens in battles. I do not feel anything when I see someone die now. Is that a bad thing, Your Grace?”

Daenerys turned to look at the girl, her expression softening. Missandei had seen horrors that no child should ever have to witness. She had watched her brothers die, had been sold into slavery, had endured years of cruelty at the hands of the Masters. And yet she had survived, had remained kind and loyal and true.

”I do not know,” Daenerys admitted. ”I do not know if it is a bad thing or a good thing. Perhaps it is simply... necessary. To survive in this world, you must learn to harden your heart.”

Missandei was silent for a moment and then nodded, as if she understood something.

”But I do not want to feel nothing when I see death,” Daenerys added. ”He once told me that a ruler should never become detached from the death of those beneath them. Because that’s how one becomes a tyrant.”

”He?” Missanei tilted her head.

Daenerys paused. ”Joffrey…”

The streets of Yunkai were a complete mess by the time she was allowed inside.

Daenerys walked through them slowly, her boots splashing through puddles of blood and mud. Bodies lay everywhere…soldiers in the yellow and white of the city’s defenders, slaves who had been forced to fight, her own Unsullied who had fallen in the assault. The stench of death was overwhelming, thick and cloying, clinging to her clothes and her hair.

She had seen this before. In Astapor. The dead were always the same…young and old, rich and poor, innocent and guilty. They died in the same way, their blood pooling in the same gutters, their eyes staring at the same uncaring sky.

’Every death is a tragedy,’ she thought. ’Every one of these people had a name. A family. A life.’

She stopped beside the body of a young man, no older than sixteen. He wore the yellow tunic of the city’s defenders, but his hands were calloused and rough, the hands of a laborer, not a soldier. He had been a slave, she realized. A slave who had been forced to take up arms against her.

He did not want to fight. He had no choice. The Masters put a sword in his hand and told him to kill, or be killed.

Daenerys felt the familiar ache in her chest, the weight of all the deaths that had been laid at her feet. She had told herself that this was necessary. That the freedom of the many was worth the lives of the few. But standing there, looking down at the boy’s face, she wondered if she would ever truly believe that.

A sound drew her attention…heavy footsteps, the clink of armor, a low voice barking orders. She looked up and saw him.

The Hound.

He was walking through the carnage like a man strolling through a garden, his massive frame silhouetted against the burning buildings behind him. His black stone sword was still in his hand, dripping with blood. His red eyes…those terrible, glowing red eyes that Joffrey had given him, scanned the streets with the cold detachment of a predator surveying its kill.

Behind him, the bodies of the city’s defenders lay in heaps. Men who had been hacked apart, torn limb from limb, their blood pooling in dark puddles on the cobblestones. The Hound had been thorough. He had been brutal. And he had enjoyed every moment of it.

Daenerys felt her stomach turn.

She approached him with measured steps. The Hound turned to look at her, his scarred face twisting into something resembling a smirk.

”Your Grace,” he said, his voice a low rumble. ”The city is yours.”

”The city is mine,” Daenerys agreed. ”But I did not ask you to butcher every defender in your path.”

The Hound shrugged, a casual gesture that seemed almost obscene given the blood that covered him. ”They were in my way. I removed them. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? To take the city?”

”I wanted to take the city,” Daenerys said, her voice tight. ”I did not want this. This slaughter. This... waste.”

The Hound laughed. ”Waste? They were soldiers. Every one of them. They would have killed you without a second thought. They would have raped your women, murdered your children, and sold the survivors into bondage. But now I’m the monster because I killed them before they could do the same to us?”

Daenerys opened her mouth to respond, but the words died in her throat. He was right, in his way. These men had been enemies. They would have shown her no mercy if their positions had been reversed.

But that did not make the slaughter feel right.

”There is a difference between killing in battle and murder,” she said finally. ”These men were defeated. Some of them would have surrendered. You did not need to...”

She trailed off, realizing the futility of her words. The Hound was not one of her men. He had made that clear from the moment they met. He answered only to Joffrey. Only to the man who had given him his power.

”I did what I was sent here to do,” the Hound said. ”You wanted the gates open. I opened them. The rest...” He gestured with his sword at the carnage around them. ”The rest is just war. You wanted to conquer this city. Well, this is what conquest looks like. If you don’t like the sight of blood, you should have stayed in your palace.”

He turned and walked away, his heavy footsteps echoing on the cobblestones.

Daenerys watched him go, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. She wanted to scream at him, to demand that he show some respect, some remorse. But she knew it would be pointless.

’He is not my man,’ she thought. ’He never was. He is Joffrey’s creature. I chose to use him. I knew what he was, and I chose to use him anyway. The blood that is on his hands is also on mine.’

She closed her eyes, forcing herself to breathe.

”Your Grace.”

Daenerys was startled by the sudden voice. She had been too distracted.

Jorah Mormont approached her, his armor splattered with blood, his face grim. He had fought well today, as he always did. He was a man who had made many mistakes in his life, but he was loyal. He would never abandon her. She knew that now.

”The city is ours,” he said. ”The last of the defenders have surrendered. We have captured the head Masters of Yunkai. They are being held in the main pyramid, awaiting your judgment.”

Daenerys’s expression hardened. The sorrow in her eyes faded, replaced by something colder. She had mourned the dead. Now it was time to do justice for them.

”I will see them now,” she said.

The main hall of the pyramid was vast beyond reasonable measure, its marble floors polished to a mirror shine, its walls adorned with tapestries depicting the lengthy history of Yunkai.

Daenerys had seen many such halls before. The palaces of the Masters, built on the backs of slaves, decorated with the spoils of their cruelty.

The twelve leaders of Yunkai knelt before her, their fine robes torn and soiled, their hands bound with rough ropes. Spears were aimed at their necks, held by her Unsullied.

Daenerys walked slowly before them, her silver hair appeared to glow under the light from the braziers, her violet eyes fixed on their faces. They were afraid, she could see that. They were terrified. But they were also defiant, still clinging to the belief that they were her equals.

”Dragon whore,” one of them spat, his voice thick with venom. ”You think you can come here and take what is ours? You are nothing. A foreigner. A savage. You will never rule Yunkai.”

Another Master tried to spit at her, but the saliva fell short, landing on the polished floor at her feet.

Daenerys did not flinch. She did not react at all. She simply looked at them, her face as cold and still as carved marble.

”You are going to die,” she said, her voice flat and devoid of emotion. ”I am going to hang you from the walls of this city. I am going to make sure that everyone watches as you die slowly, painfully, and naked as the day you were born. Just as you did to those children when I approached.”

The Masters’ defiance crumbled very quickly after her words. Their faces went white, their eyes wide with horror.

”N-No,” one of them gasped. ”Please. We can give you anything. Anything you want. We will free all the slaves. We will give you all our gold, all our ships. You can have it all. Just let us live.”

Daenerys turned to look at him, her gaze as cold as the winter winds of the North. ”Your lives are no longer yours,” she said. ”They belong to me now.”

She paused, letting the words sink in.

”How does that make you feel?” she asked. ”To have no control over your own fate? To know that your life is in the hands of another? That is how your slaves have felt their entire lives. Every moment of every day. Now you will know what it is like.”

She turned and began to walk toward the door and spoke one last time.

”Hang them.” 

The Masters screamed. They begged. They promised everything they had, everything they could offer. But Daenerys did not look back.

”Your damn whore!” one of them shouted, his voice desperate. ”You will never rule this city without us! The people of Yunkai will never accept a westerner bitch as their queen!”

Daenerys did not stop, and the next moment, she was gone.

The sun was setting over Yunkai, painting the sky in shades of red and gold. Daenerys stood on the steps of the pyramid, looking out over the crowd that had gathered below.

Thousands of people filled the square…freed slaves, merchants, nobles, common folk. Some had come to see the Masters hang. Others had come to see their liberator. But they all had come to see what came next.

Daenerys raised her hands, and the crowd fell silent.

”People of Yunkai,” she said, her voice carrying across the square with a clarity that seemed almost supernatural. ”I am Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen. The rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. The Mother of Dragons. Breaker of Chains. And I have come to set you free.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd. Some cheered. Others stared in disbelief.

”The Masters who enslaved will be dead soon enough,” Daenerys continued. ”Their chains are broken. Their power is ended. You are free now. Free to live your lives as you choose. Free to go wherever you wish. Free to become whatever you wish to be.”

She paused, letting the words sink in.

”I am not here to rule you,” she said. ”I am not here to take your homes or your lands or your gold. I am here to give you a choice. You can stay in Yunkai and build a new life for yourselves. You can join my army and fight for the freedom of others. Or you can take what you have and leave this city forever. The choice is yours.”

The crowd erupted into cheers. Daenerys stood there, watching them, and she felt a warmth spread through her chest.

’This is what I am fighting for,’ she reminded herself. ’This is what it means to break the chains.’

The hangings were carried out with cold efficiency. The Masters of Yunkai were dead, their bodies swaying from the walls of the city, a warning to any who would dare to enslave others.

Daenerys stood on a balcony overlooking the city, Tyrion Lannister at her side. He had been with her throughout the conquest, his sharp mind and sharper tongue proving invaluable. He was a strange ally, this dwarf who had been cast out by his own family. But he was loyal, in his own way. And he was clever.

”An impressive display, Your Grace,” Tyrion said, taking a sip of wine. ”The Masters are dead. The city is yours. The people love you. What more could a conqueror want?”

Daenerys did not answer immediately. She was watching the city below, the fires beginning to burn low, the people beginning to settle into their new lives.

”I do not intend to stay here,” she said finally. ”I will remain for seven days. Long enough for my army to rest and prepare for the next journey. Then I will leave.”

Tyrion’s eyebrows rose. ”Leave? But you’ve just conquered the city. Don’t you want to rule it?”

”I wanted to free it,” Daenerys said. ”I have no desire to sit on a throne and rule over people who have only just learned what freedom means. If they want to build a new life for themselves, they will have to do it on their own. I can only give them the chance.”

Tyrion considered this, a thoughtful look on his face. ”That is... remarkably generous of you. And remarkably risky. Without you to guide them, there is a good chance that some tyrant will eventually seize power. They may end up right back where they started.”

”I know,” Daenerys said. ”But that is their choice to make. I came to understand that I cannot save everyone. I cannot be everywhere at once. All I can do is allow them to save themselves.”

Tyrion was silent for a long moment. Then he said, ”You are not what I expected, Your Grace. You may actually become a good queen one day. Westeros could certainly use that.”

Daenerys turned to look at him, a faint smile playing at the corners of her lips. ”That is the kindest thing you have ever said to me, Tyrion.”

He grinned. ”Don’t get used to it. I’m sure I’ll say something terrible soon enough.”

The council gathered in the main hall of the pyramid. Jorah stood at Daenerys’s side. Tyrion was there, along with her bloodriders, Missandei, and a few of her other trusted advisors.

”We will remain in Yunkai for seven days,” Daenerys announced. ”My army needs rest. We need to resupply. And we need to gather more ships.”

She looked at the map spread out on the table before her, her fingers tracing the coast of Slaver’s Bay.

”Our ships were not enough to carry all of us to Meereen,” she continued. ”But if we take the ships we captured from Yunkai, we should have enough to sail the rest of the way. It will make the journey easier, faster, and safer than marching overland.”

”What about those who choose to stay?” Jorah asked. ”We cannot leave them defenseless.”

”I will leave a garrison,” Daenerys said. ”A small force of Unsullied to maintain order until a new government can be established. They will not stay forever, but they will stay long enough to ensure that the city does not immediately fall back into chaos.”

Tyrion nodded approvingly. ”A wise decision. A show of force, but not a permanent occupation. It will give the people time to adjust to their new freedom.”

Daenerys looked at the map, her eyes fixed on the distant point that marked Meereen.

”Once everything is ready,” she said, ”we sail for Meereen. The third city of Slaver’s Bay. The last one. After that...”

”Your Grace?” Tyrion’s voice broke through her reverie. ”Is something wrong?”

Daenerys shook her head, forcing a smile. ”No. Nothing is wrong. I was just thinking about the journey ahead.”

She looked out the window, toward the distant sea.

’Meereen,’ she thought. ’I am coming.’

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