Chapter 331: Old Ghis
"Of course, it's you."
Barristan answered without hesitation, "You are the last trueborn Targaryen. You are the rightful heir to the Iron Throne. That is indisputable."
But Daenerys didn't seem satisfied with this answer. She pressed further:
"What if we didn't consider bloodlines? What if we judged by ability alone—who would be more fit?"
Barristan sighed inwardly.
It seemed Caesar had already confessed his ambition for the Iron Throne to the queen.
Barristan also understood that Caesar's boldness wouldn't dissuade Daenerys from admiring him. On the contrary, it would only deepen her infatuation.
It was a truth Barristan had come to accept over the years: women are drawn to conquerors.
No. That was a truth about women—not queens.
Barristan steeled himself.
It was the little girl inside Daenerys who was enamored with Caesar—not the queen.
Prince Rhaegar Targaryen had fallen for Lyanna Stark, and thousands of innocent lives were lost because of it. Daemon Blackfyre had fallen for another Daenerys, and his inability to marry her had led to rebellion. Bittersteel and Bloodraven both loved Shiera Seastar, sparking bloody wars across the Seven Kingdoms. Even Prince Duncan had forsaken his crown for Jenny of Oldstones, and Westeros paid for his love with mountains of corpses.
Throughout history, royal love stories were always poisonous.
Daenerys's love for Caesar was no different. It was slower than honeylocust venom, but just as deadly.
Now Barristan realized his true mission:
He had to kill the little girl inside Daenerys and make her a queen.
When she stood at the pinnacle of power, looking down at Caesar, her admiration for him would dissolve into nothing.
"If kingship were based solely on ability, Westeros would drown in rivers of blood," Barristan said gravely. "Every ambitious lord would claim they are the most capable and refuse to accept another."
Daenerys fell silent.
Barristan continued, "That's why kingship is determined by the gods. As the sole surviving child of King Aerys II, the Iron Throne is undoubtedly yours."
Hearing her father's name made Daenerys recall Caesar's words from the previous night. She couldn't stop herself from asking:
"Was my father really mad?"
Barristan hesitated briefly before nodding.
"Yes. The Targaryens have always walked the fine line between greatness and madness. Your father wasn't the first. King Jaehaerys once told me that greatness and madness are two sides of the same coin. Whenever a Targaryen is born, the gods flip the coin, and the world holds its breath to see how it lands."
Jaehaerys was Daenerys's grandfather. The old knight knew the Targaryen lineage intimately.
After a moment of silence, Daenerys asked softly:
"And me? Am I a product of madness or greatness?"
My father was mad, and my brother too... Daenerys began to doubt herself.
"You are not mad," Barristan said firmly. "You have a great heart, just like Prince Rhaegar once did."
Prince Rhaegar—her brother. Daenerys had never met him. He had died to Robert Baratheon's warhammer before she was even born.
Yet, despite his tragic fate, almost everyone she met spoke of Rhaegar with reverence.
"Truly?" Daenerys's eyes lit up. "Do you think I can be a great queen?"
"You will be. I have never doubted it."
Barristan's confidence filled Daenerys with new resolve.
"I've made up my mind," she declared. "I'm going to liberate Yunkai and Meereen. Barristan, prepare the army. We leave before nightfall!"
"Your Grace, will you take all the Unsullied?"
"The Unsullied belong to Caesar and me. I will not take more than my share."
"I understand." Barristan bowed and left to carry out her orders.
Daenerys stood atop the pyramid, gazing down at the city below. The morning sun glinted off the bronze spikes on the Unsullied's helmets, casting a sea of stars around the walls.
Caesar, I will prove it to you.
I can be a queen.
---
Rain began to fall, a soft drizzle that misted the air.
Samwell rode atop the white dragon Cleopatra, chasing the harpy's shadow southward.
Below stretched endless brown mountains and desolate, blackened wasteland.
Samwell realized he had crossed into the former territory of the Ghiscari Empire.
When the Valyrians had destroyed the Ghiscari, they salted the earth with brine and sulfur, ensuring that no life would ever flourish there again.
What remained was a dead land.
The harpy continued southward, seemingly tireless.
But Cleopatra was growing weary. Samwell could feel her fatigue through their bond.
This chase had lasted two days and nights. Samwell himself was exhausted—how much more so must Cleopatra be?
Could the harpy truly need no rest, no food, no drink?
If so, this pursuit was doomed to fail.
Just as Samwell considered giving up, the harpy suddenly dove downward.
Beneath her was a city shrouded in thick, black fog. The mist was so dense that Samwell could barely discern the outline of its walls.
The city lay near the Slaver's Bay coastline, where the ashen sea curved into a natural harbor.
Samwell realized where he was.
This must be the ancient capital of the Ghiscari Empire.
Cleopatra followed the harpy's descent, diving toward the fog-choked ruins.
The closer they came to the city, the thicker the mist grew. Soon, Samwell lost sight of the harpy entirely.
Was this her plan to escape?
Sensing danger, Samwell commanded Cleopatra to ascend again.
Above the mist, the air was clear, and his vision unobstructed.
He searched the horizon but saw no sign of the harpy. She must have hidden herself within the ruins.
Samwell did not rush in. Instead, he directed Cleopatra to a nearby beach, where the open expanse offered a strategic vantage.
The Valyrians may have destroyed the Ghiscari lands, but the sea remained untouched.
On the beach, Samwell hunted fish, crabs, and shrimp from the shallow waters. Cleopatra's fiery breath roasted their catch, providing them both a much-needed meal.
After resting, Samwell felt ready.
He mounted Cleopatra once more and approached the fog-shrouded city.
At its gates, the mist became impenetrable. He could see no more than ten paces ahead.
Flying in such conditions was too dangerous.
Samwell dismounted, choosing to walk alongside Cleopatra as they passed through the towering gate.
The ancient gateway loomed like the gaping maw of a leviathan, swallowing man and dragon whole.
(End ofChapter)