Daenerys stood at the edge of the training yard, her eyes fixed on the two figures locked in combat. Lyonel Storm, Maekar's sworn protector, moved with precision, his sword glinting in the morning sun as he parried each blow from the towering figure before him—Brienne of Tarth.
The clash of steel rang out, echoing across the yard as their swords met again and again. Lyonel's movements were smooth, controlled, almost effortless, yet Daenerys could see that he was holding back. He was testing Brienne, measuring her skill, but also giving her room to shine.
Brienne, for her part, was relentless. Her great height and broad frame allowed her to wield her longsword with impressive strength, and each swing carried the full force of her body behind it. She was strong, but it was her determination that struck Daenerys.
Maekar had confided in her about his search for a sworn shield, someone he could trust implicitly with her protection. He had wanted Lyonel, but Lyonel himself had recommended Brienne. And now, as the fight played out before her, Daenerys understood why.
Brienne's blade came crashing down, but Lyonel deflected it with ease, spinning to the side and countering with a quick strike to her midsection. Brienne blocked it, her sword held steady, then pressed forward with a series of strikes that forced Lyonel back, her strength on full display. Yet Lyonel moved with a certain grace, never fully committing to an offensive strike, allowing Brienne to dominate the exchange.
If Maekar was going to place someone by her side to protect her, Brienne of Tarth seemed more than capable of handling the role.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Lord Selwyn Tarth walking toward her. His presence exuded quiet strength, his eyes fixed on his daughter, pride evident in his gaze.
The lords from the Stormlands, Crownlands, and even some from the Riverlands had come, just as Maekar had said they would. Over the week she had spent with them, Daenerys had come to understand their motivations, their reasons for supporting Maekar.
Many were eager—some to gain power they had never had, others to regain what they had lost during her brother's reign. A few were still unsure, cautious, but Daenerys knew that once they saw Neferion, once they witnessed the sheer power that Maekar now wielded, they would all kneel.
Selwyn reached her side, his gaze shifting between the fierce display of skill in the yard and the other lords and knights who watched with interest.
"Your Grace," he greeted her with a nod.
"Lord Tarth," Daenerys smiled graciously. "Your daughter is an extraordinary warrior."
He smiled, pride clear in his expression. "Yes, she is."
"It's rare for a lord to allow his daughter to pursue such a path," Daenerys remarked curiously. "What made you different?"
Selwyn chuckled softly. "Brienne has never been one for the conventional paths. She has her own mind, her own sense of duty. It took me some time to accept it, but... I couldn't stand in her way."
"I admire that," Daenerys said warmly. She remained silent for a moment before breaking it suddenly. "I would like her to be my sworn shield."
Selwyn's eyes widened in surprise. "Your sworn shield, Your Grace?"
"Yes," Daenerys confirmed, her tone steady and sincere. "I see her dedication, her strength, and her loyalty. She would make an excellent protector. It is a great honor, but I feel Brienne is more than worthy of it."
Selwyn looked at his daughter, pride swelling in his chest. "That is quite an honor, indeed. My daughter will be overjoyed at such news. She has always sought a purpose, a chance to serve, to protect something greater than herself."
"Then you agree?" Daenerys asked, her smile widening as she saw the excitement in his eyes.
"I agree wholeheartedly, Your Grace," Selwyn said, bowing his head slightly. "Brienne will be happy beyond measure. She will serve you faithfully, I have no doubt."
"Good," Daenerys replied happily, feeling a sense of satisfaction.
=====
Days went by, and as Daenerys walked through the dimly lit corridors toward the garden, her thoughts were consumed with worry. Maekar had been in the Stepstones for weeks now, and no word had reached her about his safety. Was he fine? Was he even alive? Each day that passed without news gnawed at her heart. He had promised her he would return by now, and yet he was late. Even the lords were beginning to grow restless.
Brienne walked beside her, a steady presence, while her handmaidens trailed behind. But nothing could soothe the storm of doubt in Daenerys's mind. Every night she tossed and turned, imagining the dangers Maekar might be facing. She had told herself again and again that he was strong, capable—he had a dragon, for the Seven's sake—but the worry never left her.
As she entered the garden, Daenerys spotted Lord Mooton, Buckwell, and Rykker gathered under a tree, deep in conversation. The moment they noticed her approach, they stopped talking and greeted her with respectful bows.
"Princess Daenerys," Lord Mooton said with a courteous smile. "We were just discussing Prince Maekar."
"We were wondering if you had any word on his whereabouts," Lord Buckwell added, his tone polite but edged with concern. "We have been waiting, and some have begun to grow... restless."
Daenerys felt her stomach twist. She had no answers for them, just the same doubts and questions that haunted her every day. She glanced at Brienne, who had informed her earlier that the stormlords, in particular, were growing impatient. Even Valeana had mentioned that her cousin Monford was becoming restless as well.
Before she could respond, the sound of hurried footsteps interrupted the conversation. Lyonel Storm burst into the garden, panting as if he had run the entire length of the keep.
"My princess," he said, trying to catch his breath, holding out a piece of parchment. "A message... from Prince Maekar."
Daenerys quickly took the parchment from his hand, her heart racing. She unfolded it with trembling fingers and scanned the short, written message. A rush of relief flooded through her as she read the words.
Maekar had returned.
He was back.
She turned to the lords with a smile brighter than any she had worn in days. "Prince Maekar has returned," she announced, unable to contain the joy in her voice. "And he wishes for all the lords to meet him at the great cliffs."
The lords exchanged confused glances. "The cliffs?" Lord Mooton asked, puzzled. "Is he not coming here? Why must we go to him?"
Daenerys straightened her posture, her voice more authoritative now, carrying the weight of her position as princess. "It is important," she said firmly. "It is paramount that you come with me."
The lords, though still hesitant, nodded in agreement. They respected her authority, and though they were clearly curious, they would not challenge her command.
"I shall meet you at the grand stairs shortly," she said.
They bowed slightly before taking their leave, albeit reluctantly.
.
.
.
Daenerys led the procession of lords toward the great cliffs, her heart racing with excitement. She could hardly contain herself, almost skipping with each step. The lords behind her seemed far more apprehensive, their faces clouded with unease and suspicion. They followed, some out of genuine curiosity, others simply because they had no choice. They had come to Dragonstone at Maekar's request, after all.
As they reached the cliffs, the sea stretched out before them, waves crashing violently against the jagged rocks below. The sky was overcast, heavy with clouds, casting an eerie grey pall over the towering Dragonmont in the distance, its dark form like a sentinel watching over them.
The lords shifted nervously, exchanging glances. Daenerys could see the impatience beginning to show on some of their faces, especially Lord Mooton, who fidgeted uncomfortably. Others muttered amongst themselves, clearly unsettled by the strange trek to the cliff's edge.
But Daenerys didn't care. Maekar would be here soon, and that was all that mattered. She glanced out at the horizon, her heart fluttering with anticipation.
Lord Mooton opened his mouth as if to say something, but before he could speak, a loud, earth-shaking roar reverberated through the air.
The lords gasped, some stepping back in alarm. They stood in stunned silence, their eyes wide as the sound echoed across the cliffs. Lyonel smiled knowingly, while her dear handmaidens and Brienne exchanged worried glances, fear flickering in their eyes.
Daenerys stepped forward, moving toward the lords with a confident smile. "My lords," she called, her voice clear and steady, drawing their attention. "Do not run. This is a good time to show how brave you all are." Her smirk was almost playful, though there was an edge of mischief in her tone.
The lords simply stared at her, utterly confused. Another roar followed, louder and more menacing, as the sky seemed to tremble in response.
It was Monford Velaryon who spoke first, his face paling as recognition dawned on him. "It can't be..." he muttered, his voice barely audible. "It can't be... they're gone... how...?"
He looked at Daenerys in disbelief, and she gave him a single nod. Monford's expression grew even more shocked, his lips trembling as he struggled to comprehend.
And then it happened.
A shadow appeared over the Dragonmont, vast and dark, blotting out the already dim sky. The lords turned, their faces filled with disbelief, their mouths agape as they watched. From the shadow, a massive shape emerged, soaring through the clouds—a dragon. Its enormous wings stretched wide as it descended, circling over the cliffs like a predator.
Maekar sat atop Neferion, the dragon's scales glistening in the muted light as the beast beneath him roared again, the sound deafening. The lords stumbled back in shock, unable to tear their eyes away from the impossible sight before them.
"It can't be..." one of the lords muttered, his voice weak. "Dragons are gone... they're gone!"
"Impossible!" cried another.
Monford Velaryon's hands trembled, his mouth hanging open in disbelief. "By the gods," he whispered, "it's true... a dragon..."
Neferion circled above the cliffs, his powerful wings sending gusts of wind across the stunned lords. The air vibrated with the sheer power of the creature's presence.
Daenerys could hardly breathe, her heart fluttering as she watched Maekar, her Maekar. He descended from the sky, Neferion's massive wings beating against the air as they landed with a thundering crash. The ground trembled beneath the weight of the beast, and the lords took several steps back, their faces pale with awe and fear.
As soon as Maekar dismounted, Daenerys bravely stepped past the stunned lords. They were too awestruck to stop her, their eyes glued to Maekar, who walked toward them with a sword in hand. Neferion followed closely behind, his slow, deliberate movements causing even more terror among the lords.
But Daenerys had no fear. She moved with purpose, her gaze locked on Maekar. When they met, she threw herself into his arms, and he lifted her effortlessly. Their lips met in a passionate kiss.
As they pulled away, still holding hands, they turned to face the gathered lords. Together, they walked toward them, Daenerys clinging to Maekar's side. The lords remained in stunned silence, some watching in reverence, others unable to comprehend what they had just witnessed.
Maekar began to speak, his voice steady and commanding. "You all know why I have called you here—the true reason. I am done with subtlety. I now ask you, directly, for your support against my mad brother."
His words hung in the air, and the lords seemed frozen, their eyes flicking between Maekar and Neferion, who growled behind him.
"You have seen what I have at my side," Maekar continued, his tone sharpening as he gestured toward Neferion, who let out another deep, rumbling growl. "And now," Maekar added, lifting the sword in his hand high for all to see, "I also hold the sword of the Conqueror himself."
The black steel of Blackfyre gleamed in the fading light.
"What say you, my lords?" Maekar asked.
For a moment, there was only silence. Then, Lord Monford Velaryon, visibly shaken, was the first to kneel. The other lords of Blackwater Bay followed quickly, dropping to their knees one by one. They looked at Maekar as if the Seven themselves had descended from the heavens.
Soon, the other lords, one by one, knelt before Maekar, pledging their allegiance. The sound of their knees hitting the ground was like thunder rolling across the cliffs. Every lord present was bowing before him now, their loyalty no longer in question.
Daenerys watched with glee, her heart swelling with pride. She could get used to this—being at Maekar's side, as his queen. As she hugged his side, leaning further into him, she thought with a smile, 'Yes, as Maekar's queen... I could get very used to this.'