GOT : Chapter 141

( Daenerys POV )

Daenerys tapped lightly on her knee as Missandei stood there, in front of her, motionless. Was she judging her? Did Missandei think she was a monster too?

It all had started so well, and yet, everything had tumbled down so fast. Volantis, once the Queen of Cities, was now a ruin. A heap of twisted stone and burnt homes. The first daughter of Valyria, gone, killed by the wrath of one of its descendants.

Only a few buildings stood. The Temple of R'hllor, guarded fiercely by the Fiery Hand during the sack, which protected many inhabitants. What people now call the 'Dornish Quarter', a few estates and buildings preserved by the Dornish contingent. And, of course, the Black Walls, with their massive shadows now overlooking a dead city.

Daenerys sought to bring peace, freedom and prosperity. She had brought carnage, sadness and destruction.

She had thought that, as Khalessi of the Great Grass Sea, having proved herself above these vain horse lords, she could have been able to control them and lead them to a new path. She thought that, as the Breaker of Chains, she could have inspired these pesky sellswords to put aside their desire for gold into something more.

She was wrong.

In the end, people's desires stayed the same. The Dothraki were a bunch of looters, killers and rapists, just like she saw at Lhazar, with her Sun and Stars. And she was not Drogo. She could not control her horse lords like he could.

The Sellswords were unreliable as ever. All they wanted was gold, riches and women. The rest was nothing to them. Windblown, Second Sons, Golden Company…all the same.

She wanted Volantis to be the crowning achievement of her coming to Essos: the liberation of the slaves of the first daughter of Valyria, before setting sail on a new conquest: her birthright, the Iron Throne, in Westeros.

It was not to be.

Instead, between the ashes and the sorrows, she would have to fight to ensure that people forget the Volantene disaster.

First of all, by dealing with the Dothraki. They had betrayed her, like so many before.

The leaders were put to the sword, and the others returned to their lands. Only a handful remained. A few dozen faithful, whom she could perhaps find a place on one of the ships leading across the Narrow Sea. A few men, but mostly women and children, too scared to go back to a life of servitude.

Then, the sellswords. Nothing much that she could do to them, either. Some of them fell in battle, others just scattered after taking their loot. However, her resolve against the Golden Company remained strong. She had thought that perhaps she could trust them, but there too, she was wrong. They had betrayed her, just like so many before them. And like so many before, they would fall in turn.

Viserys betrayed her for a crown, he had gotten a crown of molten gold.

Mirri had betrayed her for revenge, she had contributed to the birth of dragons.

Hizdahr had betrayed her for blood, he had died last.

Daario had betrayed her for gold, he ended up with it shoved down his throat.

Jorah had betrayed her for love, he did not make it three steps into the camp before a horse kicked him between the legs, causing him to die before he had even taken a step towards her, writhing in agony.

Those who betrayed her always ended up dead. And she, Mother of Dragons, Breaker of Chains, continued to live.

But who was left, of the faithful?

Ser Barristan? He never cared until the Usurper discharged him of his white cloak.

Aegon? She never knew him, while it seemed he knew of her. Where was he all these years? Where was he when the Golden Company massacred the inhabitants of Volantis?

There remained…the Dornish. Prince Quentyn, whose loyalty never wavered, who helped her people when they needed it most, even if it was not their fight. Who gave her the means to get a crown in a golden seat. A fleet, an army, a family…

And Ned? Sweet, caring Ned, who reassured her between hugs and kisses after that fateful day when Volantis burned. Why couldn't she trade him for Aegon? Where was Aegon to reassure her after she had almost collapsed while looking at the bodies piled up in the Volantene streets? Why would she have to discard a man who had never treated her with anything but love and respect for someone who had barely spoken to her?

Truly, the gods must play a sick joke on her. When she had happiness and greatness within her reach, it was to take it from her.

A small noise made her jolt from her dreams.

The door of the small mansion of the Dornish Quarter she had taken her rooms in opened, revealing Ser Barristan, in pristine white armor.

"They're waiting for you, Your Grace."

Daenerys nodded.

It will soon be time to leave Essos behind for good. To sail to Westeros and reclaim her birthright. To finally rule on the Iron Throne as she should have.

But before, the final settlements would be made here, in Essos, to decide the future of the continent. Or part of it.

Daenerys straightened up, and, accompanied by Missandei in her wake, left the manse under guard.

It was not a long march, under mostly intact roofs, to the great market, where a table had been put up.

The dozen or so participants stood up as she arrived, curtsying slightly.

There were the Dornish, of course: Prince Quentyn, his paramour, Ned, and a few other lords. But also, the Stormlanders: Monford Velaryon, Davos Seaworth and Shireen Baratheon. Finally, Aegon and a few captains of the Golden Company, accompanied by the ever-so dull Jon Connington.

"Shall we begin?" she asked as she sat down, urging everyone to do the same.

"Your Grace, I am pleased to announce that the entire fleet is ready to set sail." Lucian Toland rose up, his red hair flying in the soft breeze. "But we will have to be quick. The Winter storms are upon us and we must take advantage of the good weather."

"The Golden Company will voyage directly to Yronwood, except for the captains wishing to attend the wedding between the new King and Queen," another Dornish lord with the sigil of a panther said.

"When is the wedding due?" Aegon asked.

"The preparations are already underway" Prince Quentyn nodded. "It shall be three days after your arrival in Sunspear, if it suits you?"

Three days? Daenerys had hoped for longer.

"It suits us," she instead replied with a twinge of regret.

"Then we will move onto the more delicate subjects…" Jon Connington frowned with the air of someone who had eaten something rotten. "Namely the preposterous Dornish territorial claims!"

"Our claims are reasonable," Prince Quentyn said with a sly smile. "Nothing more than the annexation of traitorous houses into Dornish territory."

"I'll be damned if I ever cede a piece of my Stormlands to your kind, Dornish!" Jon Connington stood up, furious.

Prince Quentyn frowned but remained calm.

Besides him, his paramour laughed.

"Your Stormlands, Ser Connington? Forgive me, I did not think the Baratheons were so quick to be ousted of their position."

This caused an uproar close to Shireen Baratheon. Even Monford Velaryon, usually quiet, voiced his disapproval.

"You cannot give the Stormlands to this…this disgrace of a man!" the Lord of Driftmark fumed, "he was exiled for having failed his King!"

"I have never failed King Aegon, the sixth of his name!" Jon Connington shot back.

"Peace, Lord Velaryon," Aegon cut in, "my grandfather was…a monster. Order or not, his word should have been moot since we all knew his madness. Lord Connington's loyalty is not in question."

Daenerys twitched. Aegon had been careful to mention her father's word being null due to his madness, or supposed as such. But she also knew that one of her father's orders was to have Rhaegar disinherited, which would make Viserys heir…and mean she was Queen, therefore before Aegon in the succession!

She had to make it clear who was in charge before she let them rip their throats out over it.

"No one will have the Stormlands."

A sudden silence passed over the room, as every head turned to her.

"What?" Jon Connington angrily asked.

"You heard what I said, Lord Connington. No one will have the Stormlands. I have decided to incorporate the Stormlands into the Crownlands. The Paramountship is abolished. All Dornish claims will be agreed upon, except for Harvest Hall of which I keep the decision to see if Lord Selmy will bend the knee to me," Daenerys exclaimed for all to hear.

"Jon Connington, for your services, you shall be rewarded with Griffin's Roost. Shireen Baratheon, for your services, you shall be rewarded with Storm's End. That is my word on the matter."

"Your Grace, I must protest!" the young Baratheon girl stood up.

"Protest all you like, but your family was confirmed in its position by the grace of my ancestor, Aegon the Conqueror. It has only repaid itself in treachery.

By putting you into the chair your ancestors have occupied, I am only rewarding the fact that you did not personally raise your banners against me. However, your house has abused of mine's friendship. Let that be a reminder of who the dragons are."

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