294 AC
The winds from Slaver's Bay carried the scent of salt and ash as Jon Snow—no, Aemon Targaryen now—stood atop the great pyramid of Yunkai, his gaze fixed on the distant silhouette of Meereen. The final stronghold of Slaver's Bay rose like a defiant fortress against the horizon, its great harbors bustling with activity and its walls lined with wary sentinels. Unlike Astapor and Yunkai, Meereen was prepared. Its defenses were formidable, its people hardened by the downfall of their neighboring cities.
But Jon was ready. He hadn't come this far to falter.
At his side, Ancalagon stretched his wings, the black dragon's scales glinting under the harsh sun. The younger dragons—Rhaegal, Meleys, and Silverwing—circled high above, their roars echoing across the sky. The Unsullied stood in perfect formation below, their spears gleaming, their faces as impassive as ever. They were his blade, sharpened and unwavering.
The time had come to end the slaver's hold on Slaver's Bay. The time had come to make the world tremble at the name Targaryen.
The March Begins
Jon led his army from Yunkai at dawn. The sun's first rays painted the sky in hues of crimson and gold, casting long shadows over the dusty plains. The march was swift and relentless—the Unsullied's disciplined pace eating up the miles with mechanical precision. Ghost loped ahead, his white fur stark against the arid landscape, while Missandei rode beside Jon, her sharp eyes scanning the horizon.
The journey to Meereen took two days. Along the way, Jon encountered the remnants of slaver caravans fleeing the city, their desperate attempts at escape crushed beneath the iron discipline of the Unsullied. No mercy was shown. This was not a war of hearts and minds. This was a war of dominance.
As they neared Meereen, the city's great pyramids and towering walls came into view. The harbors buzzed with activity, ships being loaded with supplies in preparation for siege or escape. The Great Pyramid of Meereen loomed above it all, a symbol of the city's pride and defiance.
But pride was no match for dragonfire.
The Siege Begins
Jon wasted no time. Upon reaching the outskirts of Meereen, he established a perimeter around the city, cutting off supply routes and escape paths. The Unsullied set up camp with military precision, their formation a ring of steel encircling the city's walls. Jon's dragons patrolled the skies, their shadows casting fear over the city's inhabitants.
Jon gave the slavers one chance.
Under a flag of truce, he sent envoys to Meereen's gates with a simple message: surrender the city and their wealth, and they would be spared. Refuse, and they would face the full wrath of the last Targaryen.
The response came swiftly—an arrow fired from the city walls, piercing the chest of Jon's lead envoy.
Jon didn't flinch. He simply turned to Ancalagon, his voice cold and steady.
"Dracarys."
The Assault
The first wave of dragonfire rained down upon Meereen's outer defenses. Ancalagon led the assault, his black wings casting an ominous shadow as he unleashed torrents of flame upon the city's gates and battlements. The younger dragons followed, their smaller but equally deadly streams of fire reducing watchtowers and defensive positions to ash.
The Unsullied advanced in perfect formation, their shields raised against the hail of arrows from the city walls. Jon rode at the head of his army, Dark Sister gleaming in his hand, his expression a mask of cold determination. Ghost prowled at his side, his red eyes glowing with anticipation.
Meereen's defenders fought valiantly, but they were no match for the combined might of the Unsullied and the dragons. The city's walls, though formidable, began to crumble under the relentless assault. Fires spread through the outer districts, smoke billowing into the sky as panic gripped the city's inhabitants.
Jon gave no quarter. This was not Astapor or Yunkai. This was the heart of the slaver empire, and it would be torn out without mercy.
The First Ride
As the battle raged, Jon mounted Ancalagon for the second time—but this time, it was to lead the charge.
The moment Jon settled onto the dragon's back, he felt the surge of power, the bond between rider and beast solidifying into something unbreakable. Ancalagon responded to Jon's commands with instinctive precision, as if they were two halves of the same soul.
With a mighty roar, Ancalagon took to the skies, Jon's cloak billowing behind him as they soared over the battlefield. From above, Jon saw the chaos unfold—the Unsullied pressing forward, the defenders of Meereen breaking under the onslaught, the fires consuming the city like a living thing.
Jon guided Ancalagon with ease, directing the dragon's fire with calculated precision. Enemy formations were incinerated, strongholds reduced to rubble. The defenders' morale shattered under the weight of the dragon's fury, and soon, the city's resistance crumbled entirely.
The Fall of Meereen
By nightfall, Meereen had fallen.
Jon rode through the city's shattered gates at the head of his army, Ancalagon soaring overhead. The streets were littered with the bodies of the fallen, the air thick with the stench of smoke and blood. The Great Pyramid of Meereen, once a symbol of the city's pride, now bore the scorch marks of dragonfire.
The surviving slaver lords were dragged before Jon, their fine clothes singed, their faces pale with fear. Jon regarded them with the same cold detachment he had shown in Astapor and Yunkai.
"You were given a choice," he said softly.
Their executions were swift and public, their bodies displayed as a warning to any who might oppose him. The city's wealth was seized to fund Jon's growing empire, and the Unsullied established strict control over Meereen's streets.
But, as before, Jon did not free the slaves. The system of control remained, though he introduced reforms designed to slowly dismantle the institution without sparking open rebellion. Meereen's economy would continue to fuel his rise, and the fear of his dragons would keep the city in line.
The Dragon's Dominion
From the top of the Great Pyramid, Jon addressed the city. The Unsullied lined the streets below, their spears raised in silent salute. The people of Meereen watched in fearful silence, their eyes fixed on the man who had conquered their city with fire and blood.
"I am Aemon Targaryen," Jon declared, his voice echoing across the plaza. "You might have heard of me. I'll say this once, only once. Meereen belongs to me now and so the Slaver's Bay"
The crowd remained silent, their fear palpable. Jon didn't care. He hadn't come for their love. He had come for their obedience.
As night fell over Meereen, Jon stood atop the pyramid, watching the horizon. Ancalagon and his brood circled above, their shadows flickering in the moonlight.
The conquest of Slaver's Bay was complete.
But Jon knew this was only the beginning.
The world would soon learn that the dragon had returned.