Chapter 19: Are you certain?

Daenerys's Pov

Utter shock and disbelief overwhelmed me as I shot a cold glare at the man I had once loved and still did. This was the man who had shielded me from my cruel brother's brutality, who had helped me survive in Qarth, and the Red Waste, who had braved it all for the love he bore for me. However, the hate and hurt in my heart began to ebb as I stared at him, kneeling there, his face sullen and filled with regret. His once-bright blue eyes had lost their luster and purpose.

The warmth streaming in from the window in Meereen did little to dispel the heavy mist hanging in the air. "I can never make up for what I did, but the moment I truly saw you for who you are, a leader the world needs, I knew I could never betray you again. Polite words and gestures won't prove my loyalty, so I've brought you gifts to show that I have your best interests at heart."

His words carried a weight of pain that brought tears to my eyes, seeing my beloved bear in such a state. As he rose, he tugged on a golden rope that lay coiled on the floor. Dressed in full armor, he pulled a little harder, and suddenly, a dwarf with emerald green eyes and golden blonde hair stood before me. His face was flushed from wine, his eyes glassy, and he reeked of alcohol and dirt.

Despite his disheveled appearance, something in his face struck a chord within me. "This is the Imp of House Lannister," Jorah declared. "I bring you tidings of him, as well as Drogon, and even more dire news about the lions of House Lannister."

His tone was cool and assertive, and I turned my gaze to the dwarf. He appeared to be in pain, with red scorches and bruised skin beneath the rope that bound his thin wrists. His stumped legs seemed to be causing him discomfort as he shifted from foot to foot.

Could this little man be the former son of the Hand of the King, a member of the family that had betrayed my own? A slow smile began to form on my face before I shot him a cold, leering look. I would deal with him later; for now, more pressing matters required attention.

"Tell me about Drogon. He hasn't been seen in Meereen since he killed that child, a monstrous act that still weighs heavily on my heart," I said with a broken voice, my thoughts drifting to my children locked away in the pyramid.

But if I couldn't punish Drogon, someone had to pay the price. My heart raced as I watched Jorah move his lips to speak, a grim expression taking shape on his face. "I found the dwarf in Volantis and brought him with me on the way back to Meereen. We passed through Old Valyria, and there, we saw him. Drogon seems to be flying over the ruins. The people of Volantis say he's been seen flying overhead multiple times, but he hasn't attacked the city or its inhabitants."

As he spoke, I felt a sense of relief washing over me. Good; I couldn't bear the thought of Drogon laying waste to an entire city. With a nod of approval, I turned my attention to the dwarf for a moment, his green gaze studying me. I paid him no mind, my focus on more pressing matters.

"Now, what is this I hear about the Lions in Volantis?" I asked impatiently, the hatred I felt for that treacherous family burning in my heart. They would face their punishment once I returned—fire and blood would be their reward for their betrayal. But first, I needed ships and a larger army. Alongside the Second Sons, Stone Crows, and Unsullied, I could finally return home.

"We were passing Volantis when we encountered one of the Lannisters, my brother Jaime. He was buying the Golden Company for my sister. But rest assured, they've seen your dragon and the Golden Company is not meant for you, at least not yet," Jorah assured me in his husky voice, meeting my gaze unflinchingly.

"Oh, and who are they meant for?" I inquired, my tone sharp and edged as I looked down at him from my hard throne. "Westeros has been in turmoil for so long that I can hardly recall the last time there was peace. Revolts and rebellions are cropping up everywhere. Sooner or later, our armies will need replenishing. If I recall correctly, the ships and the Golden Company are intended for the Ironborn. But make no mistake, they'll be preparing for your arrival, and once Jaime informs Cersei about your dragons, there will likely be further preparations. They may even seek help from the Dornish."

I scoffed softly as I glanced at the Imp, a small smile playing on his lips as he stood there undaunted. "Imp, before we delve into matters of war, what do you want from me?"

I spoke in a commanding tone, though I couldn't help but be amused by his presence. If I said no, I would have to imprison him, and I had no use for men in chains. Killing him would be unjust, for he had committed no crimes against me, and from what I'd heard, he possessed wisdom and cunning. He also knew the lords and ladies of Westeros, making him a valuable asset to win their support. I didn't fully trust him, but he might serve a purpose.

"Very well, then," I conceded. "It's time to discuss our allies. The Dornish have blocked their ports and have not ventured outside their country. Ser Barristan, would you summon Quentyn Martell to join us, please?"

Ser Barristan nodded gravely and left the room, leaving me alone with the Imp. I observed the confusion and suspicion in his eyes, but I couldn't discern whether it was directed at his sister, me, or the Dornish.

"Quentyn's eldest sister, Arianne, attempted to stage a coup and use Dornish law to crown your niece, but she failed," I explained. "Poor Princess Myrcella bears a nasty scar and one less ear as a result. What Arianne didn't know was that her father had been plotting since her aunt's death, ever since your father had his men commit atrocities, rape, and murder her and her children. He sent his son to marry me and hoped that his daughter would marry my brother, Viserys. Fortunately, Viserys is dead, and we've sent ravens. The Dornish are starting to marshal their forces. I won't marry Quentyn, but I will support the Dornish and bring them the justice your sister and father denied them. If they had handed over the Mountain when asked, instead of inventing excuses, this might not have happened. But they've been cheated too many times."

I let my words hang in the air, watching the doubt and resentment flicker in his eyes. "Smart. You've already won over one of the Seven Kingdoms. Your best chance is to win the northernmost kingdom. The last I heard, Stannis was attempting to conquer it, but I'm out of touch with Westeros. The Ironborn are causing havoc and vying for the throne themselves, though their power is limited to the sea. Out at sea, their fleet is formidable, but I hope that their land forces and the Ironborn will annihilate each other."

His informative tone seemed almost eager for that to happen. I nodded slowly, considering his words. "Dorne is the only region to have killed a dragon using their scorpions. There's a good chance that my sister will devise a similar weapon."

Words continued to flow from his lips, and my heart quickened. He might not be the monster his father was, but only time would tell. "Yes, well, there's a good chance that the Kingslayer will arrive there promptly, or the slight delay might allow them to kill him. For now, let's return to my solar and continue our discussion."

I began to rise, relieved that we were moving away from the topic of the Kingslayer. I silently hoped that the storms would take him or that Drogon remained safe. Losing even one of my dragons to the Lannisters was a fate I couldn't bear.