The sun beat down mercilessly on the Dothraki camp, casting long shadows over the tents as the morning grew hotter. The sounds of restless horses and murmuring conversations filled the air. But today, the camp was quieter than usual, with a charged atmosphere hanging over it. The death of Khal Drogo, the strange rebirth of Daenerys, and the departure of a large portion of the khalasar had left those who remained feeling unsettled.
Inside her tent, Daenerys stood tall, her expression set with determination. She had lost much, but today was the beginning of something new. Her decision had been made. No more chains. No more suffering. It was time for her people—whether they were slaves or free—to choose their own path.
She gestured toward the nearest guards. "Bring them all in," she said, her voice calm but firm.
Moments later, the tent began to fill with the former slaves of the camp, each one stepping in cautiously, their faces filled with uncertainty. They were the remnants of Drogo's conquests, people who had been taken from their homes, bound in servitude. Now, Daenerys stood before them, a woman reborn in fire, with three baby dragons perched at her feet.
"You are free," Daenerys announced, her voice steady, her eyes scanning the crowd. "You may choose to stay with me, or you may leave. The choice is yours. No one here will be forced to serve me."
A murmur ran through the crowd. Some of the slaves—those more superstitious, more fearful of what Daenerys had become—chose to stay. The memory of seeing her walk through fire unscathed, with dragons born from the flames, had cemented her in their minds as something otherworldly, something divine. They knelt, their faces filled with reverence.
But others, their chains broken at last, chose to leave. These were the ones who had longed for their freedom, who had endured years of captivity and saw an opportunity to return home, or at least start anew. They bowed their heads to Daenerys in respect and walked out of the tent, disappearing into the vastness of the plains.
Daenerys watched them go, her expression a mix of emotions—relief for those who would no longer be bound, but also concern for what came next. She had done what she believed was right, but there was still uncertainty gnawing at her.
As the last of the freedmen left, Doreah, one of her handmaidens, stepped forward, her face full of admiration. "You will be the greatest queen ever, Khaleesi," she said, her voice filled with conviction.
Before Daenerys could respond, a soft chuckle came from the corner of the tent. Arren, who had been sitting quietly, leaned against the wall, his arms crossed. His blindfold covered his eyes, but there was an unmistakable smirk on his face. "You won't be a good queen," he said lightly, his tone amused.
The room fell silent, all eyes turning toward him. Doreah bristled, her eyes narrowing. "How dare you?" she spat. "You speak to your queen with such disrespect?"
Daenerys, her face flushing with anger, turned to Arren, her voice sharp. "And why do you think that, Arren? Why do you say I won't be a good queen?"
Arren stood up slowly, his expression unreadable behind the blindfold. He wasn't trying to provoke her, but the truth needed to be said. "You've freed them, which is commendable," he began. "But you've just made a caravan move without assessing who's following you and what they can offer. You didn't ask what skills they have, what they can do, or how they might help you in the days to come."
Daenerys's brows furrowed, her fists clenching at her sides. "They chose to follow me, did they not? That should be enough."
Arren shook his head. "No, it's not. Willing hearts don't fill empty bellies, and loyalty doesn't build a future. You've given them freedom, but now they need purpose. Idle minds are the devil's playground. If they have no tasks, no roles, they will grow restless. If you don't know what you have to work with, how can you build a future?"
Daenerys's eyes flashed with indignation, but there was something deeper beneath her anger—a seed of doubt. She hadn't considered that.
"Are you suggesting I failed them?" Daenerys demanded, her voice laced with both challenge and curiosity.
Arren stepped closer, his tone softening slightly. "I'm saying you're new at this, Daenerys. You've never had to lead a people before, not like this. You've made a decision without knowing who follows you, without knowing what they're capable of. It's not a failure. It's a learning opportunity."
Doreah, still fuming, opened her mouth to argue, but Daenerys raised her hand, silencing her. The Khaleesi's gaze remained on Arren, her anger cooling as her mind processed his words.
"So what do you suggest?" Daenerys asked, her voice calmer now, but still sharp.
"Tally them," Arren said simply. "Find out who has skills. Find out who can hunt, who can build, who can heal. Assess what you have. Make a plan for the future. A queen leads with more than ideals—she leads with knowledge."
Daenerys's jaw tightened, but instead of lashing out, she took a deep breath. "Very well," she said, her tone firm. "We'll begin the tallying now."
Without another word, Daenerys stepped out of the tent, gathering those who remained and organizing the task. It took the better part of the day, but by the time the sun began to set, Daenerys had a list of names and skills. Those who chose to stay had been accounted for, their roles in the camp now clear.
As the day ended, Daenerys found Arren sitting near the dying embers of a fire, his posture relaxed, his blindfold still covering his eyes. She approached him, her steps measured, and stood in front of him, her arms crossed.
"Well?" she asked, her voice steady. "What do you think now?"
Arren, sensing her presence, stood up slowly. For a moment, he said nothing, and then, much to Daenerys's surprise, he knelt before her, bowing his head in a gesture of formal apology. "I was wrong to question you, my queen," he said, his tone sincere. "You've proven today that you are more than capable of being a great ruler. The willingness to listen, to learn, and to improve—that's what makes a great queen."
Daenerys blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in his demeanor. "Stand up," she said softly, almost uncomfortable with his formal tone. "There's no need for this."
Arren rose to his feet, though he kept his head slightly bowed. "I meant no disrespect earlier. It's just... no one is born knowing how to lead. Everyone must learn. And you, Daenerys, are learning quickly."
Her expression softened, though she studied him for a long moment before speaking again. "How do you know so much about leadership, Arren? You speak as though you've done this before."
Arren's body tensed slightly at the question. Memories of his past life flickered in his mind—of a world far from here, of responsibilities and decisions he had once faced. For a moment, the past threatened to overwhelm him, but he shook his head, pushing the thoughts aside.
"That's a story for another time," he said quietly. "Right now, you should rest. You've had a long day."
Daenerys opened her mouth to protest, but something in his tone stopped her. There was more to Arren than she had realized—more than just the blindfolded warrior who had fought for her. He carried his own burdens, his own history, but for now, she would respect his privacy.
"Very well," she said, though there was a hint of reluctance in her voice. "But one day, you will tell me."
Arren nodded slightly. "One day."
As Daenerys turned to leave, she paused for a moment, glancing back at him. There was something about Arren's formality that bothered her, something that felt... off. She had grown used to their informal conversations, to the way he spoke to her with respect but without the deference others showed her. This new formality felt like a wall between them, and she wasn't sure she liked it.
But for now, she let it be. There were bigger things to worry about, and tomorrow would bring new challenges.
As she walked back to her tent, Arren remained by the fire, his thoughts drifting once again to the life he had left behind, to the decisions he had made. He had chosen this path—to stay by Daenerys's side, to help her become the queen she was meant to be.
And though the journey ahead would be long and filled with trials, he knew he had made the right choice.