At his desk, two large lamps flickered as Hizdahr read the latest news from Astapor.
Reports of Viserys's movements had already spread across the other Free Cities, sparking unease among the slave owners. What unsettled them most was the sudden disappearance of Missandei, the young translator who had warned Viserys of their plot. Worse yet, Viserys had mentioned being "reminded" of a betrayal by someone else. This revelation sent a ripple of dread through Slaver's Bay—there was a traitor among them. Yet, on further reflection, it wasn't entirely surprising.
Viserys had flaunted his power, and the Warlocks, who had boasted of being able to kill him, had remained conspicuously absent for years. Their influence in Qarth had diminished to the point where they ranked even below the Spicers Guild, one of the city's three major merchant guilds.
While Viserys laid claim to both Westeros and the Free Cities, rumors swirled that he was also a formidable sorcerer. It was no wonder that some within Slaver's Bay doubted the Warlocks and might even support Viserys's rise.
Still, Hizdahr felt relieved that Viserys had not canceled his plans to visit Qarth. In fact, he had even sent his younger sister ahead of him. As for Hizdahr, he estimated he would follow in two days.
Come on, old men in the House of the Undying, he thought.
It was late at night when his maid extinguished the lamps and helped him into bed. Just as Hizdahr was about to drift off to sleep, he heard hurried, soft footsteps approaching.
"My lord, the Dothraki are attacking!"
Hizdahr sat up, gasping as he struggled to make sense of the situation.
"The Dothraki? Attacking?!" The Dothraki had come before to extort tribute and plunder, but something about this attack felt different. Something's wrong, he thought.
"Quick, get the guards to the city walls! Heat the oil in the statues..." He paused, the realization dawning on him. The Dothraki belonged to Viserys. Why would they be attacking?
As he relit the lamps, preparing to rise, a series of heavy, frantic footsteps echoed outside. Panic surged through him.
"What!?" Hizdahr's head spun, his body trembling with shock.
Viserys, leading his three dragons, had set the northern gate of Meereen ablaze. Together with Caggo's battering ram, the gate had fallen quickly, breached with terrifying ease.
The soldiers of Meereen, unprepared for such a ferocious assault, watched in horror as dark red dragon fire lit up the night, tearing through the sky like a deep wound. The flames melted the statues of Harpies perched atop the walls, which once sprayed hot oil as a defense. The oil, now useless, splashed in all directions, causing far more damage to the defenders than to the attackers.
For the first time, the defenders of Meereen fully understood how the mighty Old Empire of Ghis had fallen to Valyria—facing an enemy with dragons was like fighting against a god from another world.
Caggo and the Golden Company cavalry, torches in hand, rushed into the city, seizing the breach. From his vantage point atop his dragon, Viserys watched the chaos unfold below, his grip tightening as the city of Meereen began to crumble under the onslaught.
"How does it feel to ride a dragon?" Viserys asked, his voice carrying over the wind as they soared through the sky on the back of the yellow dragon.
There were two riders—Viserys and Shinelli. She had been tense at first, gripping tightly when she mounted the dragon, but now she was starting to adjust.
"A... little scared," she admitted softly, her breath catching.
"What? You don't like it?" Viserys teased.
"No, I love it! I love it... Your Grace," Shinelli quickly corrected, her voice tinged with excitement. The sensation of the young man's words in her ears made her heart race, and for a moment, she felt as if she might melt.
"In the future, our children will have the chance to ride dragons too," Viserys added with a confident smile.
"Mmm..." Shinelli's response was barely above a whisper, her voice as delicate as a breeze.
Viserys had brought Shinelli along as a reward for her loyalty and obedience. She had shown tact, serving both him and Dany with tea—a small gesture that reassured him she knew her place. If she had only served him, he might have been wary of potential conflicts within his inner circle. But her thoughtful actions earned her a special place by his side.
Their marriage was politically significant, but Viserys saw something more in their bond. While she didn't hold the political weight of a future child like the Highgarden Rose or Sansa might, her connection to him ranked just below his bond with Dany. Taking Shinelli for a dragon ride was part of cultivating a deeper relationship.
Once the empire was stabilized, Viserys planned to follow in Aegon's footsteps, leaving most political matters to his wives. He would set the framework for the realm but let them manage the day-to-day governance.
As for the attack on Meereen, Viserys had chosen to strike it first for strategic reasons. Meereen was far closer to Astapor than Yunkai—marching to Yunkai would take four or five days. Meanwhile, Caggo and the Golden Company were already stationed north of Meereen, poised to attack. With Viserys riding his dragon from Astapor, the journey took only one morning.
By coordinating with Caggo, they were able to take Meereen swiftly. Afterward, they would press on to Yunkai, attacking it from both the north and south. Yunkai's defenses, already in disarray, would crumble easily. A single pass of Viserys's dragon around their walls would be enough to break them.
When Viserys's three dragons landed atop the largest pyramid in Meereen, the battle's outcome was all but sealed. The city had fallen, and the nobility had been rounded up.
Among the captives were Hizdahr zo Loraq and Oznak zo Pahl. In total, four to five hundred of Meereen's elite—those who controlled the city's vast resources—stood trembling before him. Even though most were dressed in hastily thrown-on nightclothes, their silk garments and intricate embroidery reflected the flickering light of the torches. Wealth was woven into every stitch.
The soldiers surrounding them stood like sentinels, their presence alone enough to keep the nobles frozen in place. No one dared move.
The usual elegance of their hairstyles had been replaced with chaos. Their once perfectly coiffed locks now clung messily to their ears and cheeks. Oznak, who normally styled his hair into elaborate 'antelope horns,' now resembled nothing more than a pair of drooping goat tails.
Above them, the three dragons circled in a pinwheel formation, their scales gleaming in the torchlight. Hizdahr couldn't shake the feeling that they had grown since he last saw them. It had been only half a month, but the dragons were noticeably larger—far more intimidating than before.
Pulling himself together, Hizdahr looked at Viserys and asked, his voice trembling, "Your Grace, why? Are you truly going to make enemies of all Slaver's Bay?"
Viserys met his gaze calmly. I'm not the Mother of Dragons, he thought to himself. I have no interest in ruling Slaver's Bay—I'm here to destroy the powerful slave owners.
But before he could carry out his full plan, there was something he needed to know.
"I want to know what the Warlocks are planning for me," Viserys demanded, his tone sharp.
Hizdahr froze. A chill ran down his spine as dread filled him. How did he find out? Panic clawed at his chest. "What's happening in Astapor right now?" he blurted.
Viserys's expression darkened. Without looking at Hizdahr, he spoke to the green dragon lurking behind him. "Dracarys."
The green dragon inhaled deeply, its chest expanding as black and red flames swirled in its throat. Then, in a terrifying rush, it unleashed a torrent of dragonfire upon the nearest group of Meereen Unsullied. The air crackled with the heat, but no screams came from those consumed by the fire. The only sounds of agony came from those nearby, spared from the initial blast but set ablaze by the searing heat.
Some of the Unsullied, still alive, writhed on the ground in a desperate attempt to extinguish the flames. But there was no mercy. Viserys's soldiers swiftly moved in, thrusting spears into the burning bodies, ensuring no survivors.
The charred corpses were doused with water and sand before being dragged off the platform by hooks and tossed down the side of the pyramid like refuse.
The "Great Masters" of Meereen, who once ruled over others with cruelty and arrogance, had been reduced to little more than smoldering piles of ash.
Hizdahr's teeth chattered uncontrollably as he faced Viserys's ruthless display. Even Shinelli, standing nearby, turned pale, her body trembling in fear. The thick stench of gunpowder and burnt flesh filled the air, making her stomach churn.
Just as she felt herself on the verge of retching, a gentle hand rested on her back. Instantly, a calming warmth spread through her body, soothing her nerves. The nausea faded, and her fear began to ebb away. She glanced at Viserys, her heart racing. His ability to switch from terrifying brutality to tenderness captivated her completely.
Hizdahr, still shaking, watched the scene unfold, his mind racing. He must know something... but how? He suddenly noticed something strange about the warriors surrounding them.
The Dothraki, once wild and untamed in appearance, were now clad in leather armor and far better equipped than before. Even more surprising, they were joined by soldiers dressed in the distinct style of the Free Cities—soldiers Hizdahr knew must have been stationed on the Great Grass Sea.
But how could he have mobilized all these troops without our spies knowing?
The truth hit him like a blow. Viserys had always planned to attack Slaver's Bay.
"You... you planned this from the start," Hizdahr stammered, trembling. "But... why?"
Viserys's eyes remained cold, his voice cutting through Hizdahr's panic like a blade. "I'll ask you again. What are the Warlocks planning for me?"