Chapter 335: Mhysa

Midnight descended, cloaking the camp in silence.

Daenerys teased her three dragons with raw meat, her expression restless as distant sounds of battle cries reached her ears.

Her army was fighting, yet all she could do was wait.

She hated waiting.

If she were a man, perhaps she could be at the frontlines like Caesar, leading her soldiers with unparalleled courage.

She had asked Ser Barristan to recount Caesar's exploits, and the more she learned, the more she realized how much he embodied the spirit of a true king.

And she… was still far from being a queen.

The black dragon Drogon coiled its long neck around her arm, playfully nipping at her fingers.

Its teeth were razor-sharp, radiating heat, but it never broke her skin during their games.

Daenerys laughed as she scratched beneath its chin. Rhaegal and Viserion soon joined in, jostling for her attention.

The three dragons swarmed her, pinning her down until she had no choice but to stand and shove them away.

My dragons are growing so big, she thought with pride. Perhaps it won't be long before I can ride them into the skies.

But the thought of Caesar's white dragon, Cleopatra, dimmed her excitement. Cleopatra was already enormous, and compared to her, her three dragons still seemed like stunted children.

Daenerys sometimes doubted her methods of raising them. Yet Caesar didn't seem to do anything special for his dragon except feeding it copiously.

Frustrated, she stepped out of the tent.

Ser Barristan was standing guard outside and bowed when he saw her.

In the distance, faint flashes of fire and the echoes of battle cries punctuated the night air.

"How is the fight going?" Daenerys asked.

Perhaps sensing her unease, Ser Barristan reassured her:

"Your Grace, you needn't worry about the battle. Even without the Stormcrows' support, the Unsullied alone can defeat Yunkai's forces."

"Truly?"

"Absolutely," Ser Barristan nodded firmly. "First, you promised the Yunkai'i three days to consider your terms, so they would never have expected an attack tonight.

"Moreover, in nighttime battles, discipline and composure are paramount. Darkness obscures banners, leaving ordinary soldiers unable to see their commanders, which breeds chaos. But the Unsullied are different—they are emotionless killing machines. The night doesn't hinder them; it makes them even more terrifying."

Daenerys's anxiety eased slightly.

Turning away from the distant battlefield, she asked:

"Ser Barristan, how much do you know about Caesar? Tell me his story."

Caesar again. Ser Barristan pressed his lips together before answering:

"Your Grace, I don't know much about Caesar."

"Then tell me what you do know. I heard he was once Samwell Tarly, the eldest son of Lord Tarly of Horn Hill?"

"That's correct," Barristan nodded. "But back then, his reputation was poor—he was known for being fat and cowardly, which is why Lord Tarly exiled him to the Red Mountains to pioneer a new life."

"Fat and cowardly?" Daenerys's eyes widened. "Are you talking about Caesar?"

"Yes. That was how the nobility of the Reach described the former heir of Horn Hill."

"It must be lies," Daenerys concluded. "Perhaps Lord Tarly knew Caesar's true parentage and spread such rumors to prevent a Blackfyre from inheriting Horn Hill. Otherwise, how could someone change so drastically?"

"Perhaps," Barristan said, deliberately steering the conversation. "But significant changes can happen when someone faces great upheaval. Your brother, Prince Rhaegar, was an example."

"Rhaegar Targaryen?" Daenerys's curiosity was piqued. "How did he change?"

"Prince Rhaegar loved the harp and books as a child, showing little interest in swords. But one day, after reading something in an ancient text—or perhaps seeing a vision in a dream—he suddenly declared, Bring me a sword. I must become a knight."

"What did he see?" Daenerys asked.

Barristan shook his head. "The prince never revealed it. But from that moment, he trained relentlessly and soon became one of the greatest knights in the realm."

"I heard he even won a tournament."

"Yes," Barristan said with a faintly conflicted expression. "At Harrenhal, hosted by the Lord of Riverrun during the Year of the False Spring. It was a grand event, attended by the greatest lords and knights of the Seven Kingdoms. Your brother, Rhaegar, stole the spotlight."

"But at that tournament, my brother crowned Lyanna Stark as the Queen of Love and Beauty," Daenerys murmured, pursing her lips. "Even though his wife, Princess Elia, was present. Some say that act sparked Robert's Rebellion. Ser Barristan, do you know why Rhaegar did that?"

Barristan hesitated before replying:

"I have no right to judge your brother. But Princess Elia's health was always frail. After bearing Rhaegar two children, she was no longer able to conceive…"

"And the dragon has three heads," Daenerys whispered, recalling the vision she saw in the House of the Undying. "Viserys used to blame me for being born too late. He said if I had been born earlier, Rhaegar would have married me and wouldn't have needed to pursue a Stark girl."

She laughed bitterly and added:

"I told him it was his fault instead. If he'd been born a girl, he could have married Rhaegar himself. He hit me for that."

Remembering her brother's abuse, Daenerys instinctively crossed her arms. But she quickly corrected herself, unwilling to appear weak, and returned to her tent.

Inside, her dragons were fast asleep, curled up into three little balls.

Daenerys smiled at the sight.

"You're lucky to have each other," she murmured.

But where is my brother?

Caesar's face flickered in her mind. Daenerys tried to push the thought away, but it lingered, like a shadow she couldn't escape.

She didn't know how long she sat in silence before the tent flap suddenly opened.

Ser Jorah entered, covered in blood, and dropped to one knee before her. His face was alight with pride.

"Your Grace, I bring you victory!"

Daenerys finally smiled.

---

The next morning, Daenerys arrived outside Yunkai's gates.

The city gates were open, and a procession of slaves slowly streamed out.

"Mhysa!" a brown-skinned slave cried out, holding a child on his shoulders who echoed the cry: "Mhysa! Mhysa!"

Daenerys turned to Missandei in confusion.

"What are they saying?"

"It's ancient Ghiscari," Missandei explained. "It means mother."

Daenerys's heart stirred as she remembered the witch's curse:

"You will never bear a living child, Daenerys Targaryen. Not until the sun rises in the west and sets in the east, until the seas dry up, and the mountains blow away like leaves in the wind."

She had buried that curse deep, never sharing it with anyone.

"My dragons are my children," she had told herself.

But now, hearing the freed slaves' cries, she suddenly raised her hands, a radiant smile breaking across her face.

The slave holding the child smiled back and shouted again.

Others joined in, kneeling and reaching for her, their voices swelling in unison:

"Mhysa! Mhysa!"

The chorus echoed against Yunkai's yellow walls. More slaves poured out, bowing, stretching their hands toward their liberator.

Barristan and Jorah urged Daenerys to withdraw.

But she shook her head.

"They won't hurt me. They're my children!"

Laughing, she urged her silver mare forward into the crowd.

Bells on her ankles jingled, heralding sweet victory and freedom.

The freed slaves parted before her, their cries rising into a triumphant crescendo:

"Mhysa! Mhysa!"

Daenerys rode through them, her smile radiant, her silver-gold hair streaming behind her.

Caesar, do you see this? she thought triumphantly. They love me so much!

I can be a queen!

"Mhysa!" the slaves cried, their fingers brushing her feet as she passed. "Mhysa! Mhysa!"

(End of Chapter)