A month had passed, and Astapor stood transformed. The streets buzzed with life as merchants reopened their stalls and ships resumed docking at the bustling port. Under Alex and Daenerys' leadership, the city had stabilized. Slaves were free, but not left directionless Alex's meticulous planning ensured they were given work, homes, and purpose. The economy was recovering, trade routes reopened, and law and order prevailed.
The Unsullied, now part of Alex's army, patrolled the city alongside newly recruited soldiers. The sight of disciplined forces marching through clean streets filled the people of Astapor with a sense of security they hadn't known in years.
FLASHBACK
Two weeks earlier, Ser Barristan Selmy, dismissed from his position as a Kingsguard by Joffrey Baratheon, arrived in Pentos.
As he stepped through the gates of the city, he was taken aback by the order and cleanliness that greeted him. The streets were remarkably clean, with citizens walking about freely, their faces no longer shadowed by fear. Well-trained soldiers patrolled every corner, their uniforms pristine, their discipline evident in every move. From where he comes, this is ten times better. In king's landing is also known for its bad smell and unclean streets with much less order compare to pentos.
"This isn't the Pentos I remember," Barristan muttered, his tone filled with awe.
Over the next two days, Barristan wandered the city, speaking with merchants, laborers, and common folk. He learned of the reforms enacted by the royal family Alex and Daenerys Targaryen and of their influence over Pentos and beyond.
Eventually, his purpose drove him to the royal palace, where he was stopped by a group of soldiers at the gates.
"Halt," one of them said, stepping forward. "State your name and purpose."
"I am Ser Barristan Selmy," he said, his voice calm yet commanding. "Former Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. I've come to swear my loyalty to Queen Daenerys Targaryen."
The soldiers exchanged glances before summoning Raven, who arrived moments later, his piercing eyes studying the old knight.
"You served the Mad King, didn't you?" Raven asked coldly. "Last I remember, there was another person from westeos who came to pledge his loyalty. Are westrosi just fighting in their own home?".
"....." Barriston didn't know how to reply his question.
"Did you had any part in killing the Mad King?"
"I didn't," Barristan admitted. "But I failed his children. I swore to protect House Targaryen, and I failed. I am here to repent and to serve Daenerys Stormborn, to ensure I do not repeat my mistakes."
Raven studied him for a long moment before replying. "The royal family is not in Pentos. They're in Astapor, securing their rule over the Free Cities. You can wait here until their return."
Barristan bowed his head. "Thank you." Barriston was surprised too say the least but he didn't show the general infront of him and went back to his rented place.
For the next two weeks, Barristan remained in Pentos, awaiting the return of the royal family.
Back in present
Back in Astapor, Daenerys rode atop Ancalagon, the massive black dragon soaring high above the city. His growth over the past month was astounding he now measured over 40 feet in length and stood nearly 25 feet tall. His wingspan cast a shadow that covered entire block of a city as he flew, a living symbol of the royal family's power.
As they flew above the pyramids and marketplaces, Daenerys leaned forward, stroking Ancalagon's scales.
"You're growing so quickly," she said softly. "Soon, you'll be larger than any other dragon ever was."
Ancalagon rumbled, his voice a deep, resonant growl. "Fa... Faster now. I... grow."
Daenerys smiled. Over the past month, she had been teaching Ancalagon words, helping him form sentences. Though his speech was still limited, he had improved significantly.
"Good," she said, her voice full of pride. "You'll need to be strong for what's to come. The world will fear you, Ancalagon, as they should. But remember, you're not just a weapon. You're family."
Ancalagon tilted his massive head, his glowing eyes meeting hers. "Family. Pro... Protect."
Daenerys laughed, the sound carried by the wind. "Yes, protect. You understand so much already. Soon, you'll be speaking better than some of the men in our army. Haha".
As they descended toward the city, the people below stopped to watch, their faces a mix of awe and reverence. Ancalagon landed gently in the main square, his massive wings folding against his body. Daenerys dismounted gracefully, patting his side as she turned to the gathered crowd.
Soon her personal gaurds came, as she finished dismounting Ancalagon and went back to castle with them and Ancalagon went back to the skies.
Later that evening, Alex and Daenerys sat together in the palace overlooking the city.
"We've done well here," Alex said. "But there's still so much to do."
Daenerys nodded. "We'll take our time. Astapor is stable, now we need to move onto the next cities.
Alex glanced out the window at Ancalagon, who rested near the palace, his massive form illuminated by the torches.
"He's going to be unstoppable," Alex murmured.
Daenerys smiled. "He already is."
The royal family's reign over the Free Cities was just beginning, soon westros will be in their grasp.
The evening sky in Astapor burned orange as Alex stood outside the palace, gazing at Ancalagon, who rested near the city walls. The dragon's massive form loomed over the area, his glowing eyes fixed on the bustling streets.
Alex approached him, his steps deliberate. "Ancalagon, we need to talk."
Ancalagon tilted his head, his deep voice rumbling. "What... talk... about?"
"You're growing," Alex began, gesturing toward the city. "You're already larger than any dragon these people have ever seen. When you land in cities like this, it causes panic. Not everyone understands you like we do."
Ancalagon's wings shifted slightly, a low growl escaping his throat. "You... push... away?" He let out a low growl feeling sad as he was thinking Alex is pushing him away.
"No," Alex said firmly, stepping closer. "I'm not pushing you away. You're my son, Ancalagon, and I love you. But part of being powerful is knowing when to hold back, when to be careful."
The dragon's eyes narrowed, and for a moment, his growl deepened. "People... fear... me."
"Yes," Alex admitted. "And that's a good thing when we're at war. But we're not at war here. These people are trying to live their lives. If you crash through their markets or destroy their homes, even by accident, it'll only make them resent you."
Ancalagon was silent, his massive head lowering slightly. "Stay... out?"
"Not always," Alex said. "You're welcome here whenever you need to be. But unless it's necessary, it's better for you to stay outside the city. Let them admire you from a distance. They'll respect you more that way."
Ancalagon was quiet for a long moment before finally nodding. "I... understand. Stay... out... unless... need."
Alex smiled and reached up to place a hand on Ancalagon's snout. "Thank you. You're growing into a great dragon, Ancalagon. A leader. This is part of that responsibility."
Ancalagon rumbled softly, his eyes meeting Alex's. "Father... proud?"
"Always," Alex said.
The Council in Asshai
Far to the east, the shadowed city of Asshai was cloaked in its perpetual aura of mystery and unease. The High Seer remained in a deep coma, her frail form unmoving on the grand bed in the center of the chamber. Around her stood a council of witches and warlocks, their faces etched with concern.
"It has been over a month," one of the witches said, her voice sharp. "The High Seer has not awakened, and we are no closer to understanding her vision."
A warlock with sunken eyes nodded. "Her last words were of death and destruction. If her vision is anything like the one she had before the Doom of Valyria, we cannot ignore it."
"But what did she see?" another witch demanded. "We are chasing shadows!"
The room fell silent until the eldest among them, an ancient warlock with a staff of blackened bone, spoke. "We must act. If we cannot interpret her vision, then we must gather information from the world. Send our spies to every corner to the Free Cities, Westeros, and beyond. Let them uncover what threatens us."
The council murmured in agreement, their unease palpable. Within hours, Asshai's network of spies was activated, spreading out across the known world in search of answers.
Far away from Asshai, In WESTROS
On Dragonstone, the flames flickered violently in the chambers of the Red Priestess, Melisandre. The room was heavy with the scent of burning incense, but even that could not mask her unease. She tossed and turned in her sleep, her face damp with sweat as her nightmare unfolded.
In her vision, she saw the undead rising in droves, their icy blue eyes piercing through the darkness. Giants among them crushed walls and cities beneath their feet, and the White Walkers led them, their cold, inhuman faces twisted with malice.
But what terrified her most was not the undead or the Walkers.
It was the shadow.
A massive, unfathomable beast whose wings stretched so far they blotted out the sun. Its roar shook the very earth, and its fire consumed everything living, dead, and undead alike. Entire armies of White Walkers were reduced to ash in moments as the shadow descended, unstoppable and destructive beyond comprehension.
When Melisandre awoke, she was trembling, her breaths ragged. "The Great War is coming," she whispered, staring into the dying embers of her fire. "And the shadow of the beast will darken the world."
Her hands clutched her ruby necklace tightly as she gazed out toward the horizon. "R'hllor, show me the way. For even fire may not be enough to withstand what is to come."