The candle was nearly burnt out, its stub barely clinging to life. Yet it stubbornly illuminated the queen's chamber.
Daenerys Targaryen rested her chin on her hand, staring blankly at the flickering flame in the melting wax.
She had not slept all night.
She could not sleep and did not want to.
The thunder outside had long since ceased, so it was not the storm that kept her awake.
As the "Stormborn," she had never feared thunder.
But some things were more deafening than even the loudest thunder.
> "But your blood also flows with that of 'Maegor the Cruel,' 'Aegon the Unworthy,' and 'Aerys the Mad.'"
Caesar's words still echoed in her ears, refusing to fade away.
She knew that words spoken in the heat of argument often didn't count. She also knew she had struck the first blow. And yet...
"The Mad King" Aerys...
And "Maegor the Cruel," "Aegon the Unworthy." These were among the most infamous rulers in Targaryen history.
Especially "The Mad King." He was her father.
Daenerys could not deny it.
Her blood carried his legacy.
She had heard others call her father "The Mad King" before, but she had always dismissed it as slander from usurpers.
But now even Caesar said it.
He had also promised to return and talk to her.
Daenerys did not know how she would face that conversation.
Would she abandon her plans to march on Yunkai and Meereen, submit to Caesar, and obediently return to Westeros to become his queen?
But by rights, she was the rightful heir to the Iron Throne.
And then there were the pitiful slaves...
The candle finally burned out, and darkness swallowed the room.
Daenerys made no move to light another. Somehow, the darkness offered a small measure of comfort.
But darkness too must yield.
Dawn arrived.
The first light of morning seeped through the window, casting soft rays on Daenerys's face.
A soft knock came at the door.
She knew it was her handmaidens.
"Come in."
Irri and Jhiqui entered, preparing her bath.
Missandei laid out her clothing.
Today, she wore a violet silk gown cinched with a silver belt. Missandei also offered a crown—a gift from the Thirteen of Qarth.
Daenerys looked at her reflection in the mirror, doubt creeping into her thoughts.
Is this the face of a conqueror?
It looked more like the face of a young girl.
The real Aegon the Conqueror subdued Westeros with three dragons.
And she? She had only managed to flee from one corner of the world to the next with her three dragons.
Now, finally, she had seized a city. But that was more Caesar's accomplishment than her own.
A gift from him.
Daenerys removed the crown, setting it aside with a sigh.
I am not worthy of wearing it yet.
"Is something wrong, Your Grace?" Missandei asked.
"No, I'm fine." Daenerys smiled faintly. Then she asked, "Has Caesar returned?"
Missandei shook her head. "Not yet."
Daenerys bit her lip. "Prepare breakfast for me."
"Yes, Your Grace."
Aegon Targaryen had his sisters, Rhaenys and Visenya. But what of my siblings?
Her brother Viserys was dead.
Now, Caesar was the closest thing she had to family, and she had driven him away.
Irri brought her a simple meal of duck eggs, porridge, and honeyed milk.
The sweetness attracted flies, but Missandei quickly lit an incense stick to chase them away.
"Do you have any siblings, Missandei?" Daenerys asked suddenly.
Missandei was a former slave, clever and well-educated, fluent in Valyrian and the Common Tongue, making her an ideal personal handmaid for Daenerys.
"I have three brothers," Missandei replied softly.
"Are they here in Astapor?"
Missandei nodded. "Yes, they're Unsullied."
Daenerys saw the sadness in her maid's eyes. She knew what becoming Unsullied meant—Missandei's brothers would have been stripped of their emotions, their identities reduced to nothing but tools of war.
"They are free now," Daenerys said gently. "And so are you."
"Yes, thanks to you and Caesar."
Daenerys fell silent, her thoughts churning.
Caesar... Yes, Caesar. How would she persuade him to march with her to Yunkai?
After breakfast, Daenerys wandered into the garden.
Her three dragons frolicked among the persimmon trees, while sparrows chirped in the branches. The air carried a soothing scent of grass and wood.
But Daenerys could not bring herself to feel at ease.
From the top of the pyramid—the highest point in Astapor—she could see the entire city. Narrow alleys twisted between wide boulevards, fountains sparkled in the morning sun, and the golden dome of the Temple of the Graces shone brightly—
No, it didn't. The dome was shattered.
"What happened to the temple?" Daenerys asked, frowning.
"I heard it was struck by lightning," Missandei replied.
"And Caesar's fight with the statue," Jhiqui added.
"And the dragon," Irri chimed in.
Daenerys's frown deepened. "What on earth happened last night?"
At that moment, Ser Jorah Mormont and Ser Barristan Selmy approached, bowing in greeting.
"Good morning, Your Grace," Jorah said.
"Good morning, my knights," Daenerys replied. She repeated her question about the temple.
Jorah explained, "Last night, the Green Grace suddenly died in the temple. Then the harpy statue in the prayer hall came to life—"
"The statue came to life?" Daenerys stared at him, half-expecting a jest.
But Jorah's expression was grave. Barristan added, "It's true, Your Grace. Survivors, including several Unsullied, testified that the harpy statue animated and rampaged through the temple, killing indiscriminately before Caesar and his dragon subdued it."
Daenerys stood in stunned silence.
She felt as though she were listening to a myth from the Age of Heroes.
But Barristan Selmy did not lie. Nor did the Unsullied.
Finally, she managed to ask, "Why would the harpy statue suddenly come to life?"
Jorah and Barristan exchanged glances, both shaking their heads.
"The harpy is a symbol of the Ghiscari Empire," Missandei said quietly. "Her revival may herald the awakening of the Ghiscari gods."
Daenerys looked at her maid, unsure how to respond.
After a moment, she asked, "And Caesar?"
Jorah answered, "After the harpy fled, Caesar pursued it on his dragon. He hasn't returned yet."
Daenerys turned her gaze toward the broken temple, slowly accepting that this was no dream.
"How is the city?"
"With the Unsullied maintaining order, all is well," Jorah reported. "The temple's anomalies haven't spread among the populace, thanks to the storm masking the events. But I recommend issuing a gag order to prevent unnecessary panic."
"Do it," Daenerys agreed.
Then, after a pause, she added, "I've made a decision: I will march to Yunkai and Meereen to free the slaves. But Caesar doesn't agree..."
"I think it's a wise choice," Jorah interjected immediately. "Liberating Slaver's Bay will earn you countless supporters and unparalleled fame. When the time comes to reclaim Westeros, the nobles will flock to your cause."
This bear will oppose Caesar no matter what. Daenerys knew this all too well.
But she also knew Jorah's love for her. Unfortunately, she did not love him in return.
"Ser Barristan, what is your opinion?" she asked.
"As your sworn shield, it is not my place to influence your decisions," Barristan replied dutifully.
"I am asking for your counsel," Daenerys insisted.
After a brief hesitation, Barristan answered, "I believe you must build your own power base, Your Grace. Conquering Yunkai and Meereen may aid in that."
"Yes, Your Grace," Jorah added. "You must not entangle yourself too deeply with Caesar. His ambitions are too great; he will never kneel to you."
"I understand." Daenerys felt a surge of irritation. "Jorah, oversee the temple's Graces. Ensure they spread no fearmongering."
Jorah realized he was being dismissed. Bowing his head, he obeyed.
Watching him leave, Barristan sighed inwardly.
Of course he could see Jorah's feelings for the queen, but he also knew that it was impossible for Jorah to win the queen's favor like this.
Although he had never married, and had never even touched a woman, Barristan had seen too many infatuated men and women in the palace for many years, and he knew a truth that seemed simple, but some people could never comprehend in their entire lives -
Women only love the strong.
When Jorah Mormont defeated one powerful knights after another in Lannisport and won the championship of that tourney, even though he was just a small lord in a remote area of the North, he was still able to win the heart of the pearl of the powerful House Hightower.
But when he was forced to flee overseas to sell slaves in order to win his wife's favor, it was inevitable that he would be abandoned by his wife.
Because at that time, he showed no demeanor that of a strong man.
The knight who was once the champion of the tournament has been worn down by life and has become a scarred, talkative and honest middle-aged man.
How could such a person, kneeling at the feet of Daenerys and trying to drive away competitors by tricks, win the Queen's favor?
And when Caesar arrived in Slaver's Bay atop his massive white dragon, when he casually gifted the Unsullied army and Astapor to Daenerys, she had already had fallen hopelessly in love with Caesar.
Although in Barristan's opinion, it would be better for the queen to marry Jorah than to marry Caesar, after all, Caesar is too dangerous, but he also knows very well that Jorah has no chance in front of Caesar.
A woman would rather have the cold face of a strong man than look back at a weak man who is begging for mercy.
"You go down too." Daenerys sent her maids away too.
With Ser Barristan alone, Daenerys spoke again:
"Ser Barristan, I have heard of your reputation since I was very young. People say that you are the most outstanding Kingsguard in the history of the Seven Kingdoms and a role model for knights. So, I hope to use your wisdom and honesty to clear the fog before my eyes."
"Your Majesty, I am not a learned scholar, and I don't have much wisdom to speak of, but if you really want to ask for my advice, I will give it to you without reservation."
Daenerys nodded slightly and said:
"Who do you think is more suitable to sit on the Iron Throne, me or Caesar?"
(End of Chapter)