Chapter 347: A Reunion

Daenerys rushed out of the hall, nearly tripping over the cumbersome folds of her tokar gown.

Only then did she realize that she shouldn't be dressed like this to meet Caesar.

He detested the slave masters' attire.

"Missandei, go and welcome Caesar. Ask him to wait for me a moment. Irri, Jhiqui, help me prepare."

The emotions on Daenerys' face left no doubt about her feelings.

Quentyn Martell, standing nearby, was consumed by jealousy, though the name "Caesar" filled him with dread. He quickly whispered with Gerris Drinkwater, trying to devise a plan.

Ser Jorah Mormont clenched his teeth so hard they seemed ready to crack. After a moment's thought, he raised a critical question:

"Why is Caesar here in Meereen now? Didn't the 'civilized world' send armies against Astapor?"

Daario Naharis snorted disdainfully.

"You're out of the loop. Caesar has already reinstated slavery in Astapor. He's now a friend of the 'civilized world.'"

"Traitor!" Jorah spat angrily onto the ground.

Daenerys froze at this revelation but didn't linger to address their comments. She turned and hurried away.

Still, the joy in her heart had dimmed.

Had Caesar really reinstated slavery in Astapor? Why?

She knew how much he despised the slave trade...

As the warm bathwater enveloped her, Daenerys' mind raced with thoughts of how to face Caesar.

A thousand scenarios flashed through her mind, but none felt right.

"What should Your Grace wear?" Jhiqui asked gently.

Starlight and flowers, Daenerys thought instinctively.

To her surprise, she found she couldn't muster any anger toward Caesar.

"Bring the purple silk gown adorned with pearls," she said at last. "And my white lion pelt and the white stone earrings."

"What about your crown?"

"No crown."

Once dressed, Daenerys took a deep breath to calm her swirling emotions and ascended to the pyramid's rooftop terrace.

There, Samwell stood beneath a pear tree, seated on a stone bench, drinking sour cherry wine.

He wore his familiar ancient bronze armor, his azure cloak draped over his shoulders. Behind him rested his massive two-handed greatsword.

His white dragon, Cleopatra, crouched nearby, gnawing on what appeared to be a water buffalo carcass.

"Daenerys," Samwell greeted her, rising with a smile. "It's been a while. You look more radiant than ever."

His compliment made her heart flutter, and she almost responded with something warm in return. But when she opened her mouth, the words turned into a question:

"Did you reinstate slavery in Astapor?"

"Yes," Samwell admitted without hesitation.

"Why?" She bit her lip, hoping he would offer a reasonable explanation.

"It was the choice of the people of Astapor," Samwell said with a shrug.

"Their choice?" Daenerys was taken aback.

"Yes. I held a vote in Astapor," Samwell explained. "Every person—whether rich or poor, former noble or newly freed slave, elderly sage or innocent child—had the right to cast a vote to decide whether to restore the slave trade.

"The results were clear: the people of Astapor preferred their old way of life. Who am I to deny them that?"

"That's impossible!" Daenerys said, her voice trembling. "You're telling me they chose to become slaves again?"

"No," Samwell corrected her gently. "They chose to fill their stomachs.

"I told you before, Slaver's Bay became what it is for a reason. During the wars between Valyria and the Ghiscari Empire, the forests were destroyed, leaving the land exposed. Under the relentless sun, the soil turned to sand, making it almost impossible to cultivate enough food to sustain the population.

"Without the slave trade, what other options do the people of Astapor have? Yes, we gave them freedom. But when they realized the cost of that freedom, they did not thank us.

"If you don't believe me, you can hold a vote here in Meereen. See if the people prefer freedom or servitude."

"No one prefers slavery," Daenerys said defiantly. "I was sold as property once—I know what it feels like."

Samwell gestured toward her two Dothraki handmaids.

"Irri and Jhiqui were slaves gifted to you by Khal Drogo. Why not ask them if they'd like to be freed and fend for themselves?"

Before Daenerys could speak, Irri and Jhiqui dropped to their knees, their voices trembling with fear:

"Please, Khaleesi, do not send us away. We serve you willingly."

Daenerys quickly reassured them, then turned back to Samwell.

"That's different. I've never treated them as slaves."

"But they are slaves," Samwell replied. "And you can't deny that many slaves live comfortable lives.

"You granted them freedom without asking what they wanted. More importantly, you took away one path without offering them a brighter alternative.

"Former slaves are now free, but they still struggle to survive. Without their masters to provide for them, many find life even harder.

"The nobles can still hire these former slaves for meager wages. On the surface, everything seems to have changed, but in truth, nothing has.

"If you don't believe me, try working under the scorching sun in the fields for a day. Then you'll understand why the people of Astapor would rather be slaves than farmers."

"But slavery is wrong!" Daenerys protested, pouting slightly. "When I freed them, they were so happy—they called me Mhysa!"

Samwell froze. "They called you what? Mhysa?"

"No, Mhysa. It means 'mother' in Ghiscari," Daenerys explained. "What kind of mother would sell her own children?"

Samwell fell silent, a memory stirring within him.

He thought of the Valyrian girl he had seen in the ruins of Ghis—a figure from ancient legend, the wife of Azor Ahai.

Nissa Nissa.

Mhysa... Nissa.

The similarity in sound was undeniable. Was it coincidence? Or was this some message the Ghiscari gods were trying to send him?

"Samwell?" Daenerys called, breaking his train of thought. "What are you thinking about?"

He shook his head and smiled. "Nothing. I just wanted to tell you that abolishing slavery is a noble cause. But it's not as simple as issuing a decree. If it were, ruling would be easy, and the world wouldn't have so many mad kings and tyrants."

In the past, Daenerys might have accused him of lacking courage. But after all she had experienced in Yunkai and Meereen, she realized now that the naive one had been her.

She always seemed to make a mess of things.

Her brother Viserys had often called her a foolish child. Perhaps he was right.

"Where are your dragons?" Samwell asked suddenly.

The question made Daenerys squirm with embarrassment.

"They... they..." She wrung her hands, unable to answer.

The Mother of Dragons couldn't even control her own children.

How could she hope to lead the countless slaves of Slaver's Bay?

She looked at Samwell hesitantly, but his warm gaze offered comfort.

"Come with me," she said softly, taking his hand.

(End of Chapter)