Chapter 348: Monsters

The lowest level of the Great Pyramid of Meereen was eerily quiet.

Its exterior walls were thirty feet thick, covered in dust and cobwebs.

Daenerys Targaryen walked arm in arm with Samwell Caesar down the steep, narrow staircase.

Ahead of them, Ser Barristan Selmy carried a lantern, leading the way.

If Astapor was the red-brick city and Yunkai the yellow-brick city, then Meereen was the city of painted bricks. The staircase beneath their feet was crafted from bricks of twenty different colors, and every few steps, a group of Unsullied stood guard.

Silent and motionless in the darkness, they resembled stone statues.

The trio passed through three massive archways, then descended a torch-lit incline, eventually arriving at the pyramid's underground chamber.

Beyond a cistern, a dungeon, and a room once used to interrogate slaves, they stopped before a large, rust-covered door secured by chains.

Two Unsullied flanked the door.

"Open it," Daenerys ordered.

One Unsullied stepped forward, key in hand, and unlocked the door.

With a creak of rusted metal, the door slowly swung open, releasing a wave of heat laden with the stench of sulfur.

Daenerys glanced at Samwell before taking his arm and stepping inside.

Beyond the door lay a vast pit. Standing on its edge, the two looked down into the abyss.

In the darkness, four eyes burned with light—one pair gleaming like molten gold, the other like bronze.

"My dragons… are here," Daenerys said bitterly.

Hearing her voice, Rhaegal roared, and a burst of brilliant yellow fire tore through the darkness, illuminating the pit like daylight.

Flames licked the colorful brick walls, and the intense heat forced Ser Barristan to retreat a few steps.

But Daenerys and Samwell remained still.

"Why have you locked them up?" Samwell asked.

In the pit below, Viserion spread his wings, stirring the hot air in a desperate attempt to fly toward Daenerys. But the chains around his neck yanked him back, slamming him to the ground.

He roared in frustration, releasing another stream of fire.

In the flickering flames, Samwell saw the thick iron chain tethering Viserion's leg. His neck was encircled by an iron collar, its chain anchored to the far wall.

Rhaegal, too, was bound, smoke curling from his jaws. The air was so hot it would have been unbearable for an ordinary person.

Fortunately, neither Daenerys nor Samwell could be called ordinary.

Even so, Ser Barristan was forced to retreat further, unable to withstand the rising heat.

"They…" Daenerys began, her voice heavy with sorrow, "they've started eating people."

"Dragons naturally harm people," Samwell said matter-of-factly. "You saw Cleopatra burn those slavers in Astapor."

"I know. Viserys used to tell me stories about dragons when I was little. I know how Harrenhal turned to ash under 'Balerion the Black Dread,' and how thousands died in the Field of Fire. Even members of House Targaryen have fallen to dragonfire…

"But those were just stories, about someone else's dragons. These are mine. My children…"

Samwell nodded. "In countless songs, villages and kingdoms lived in terror of dragons. That fear wasn't baseless."

"But this time it was just a little girl, only four years old," Daenerys said, guilt lacing her voice. "Her name was Hazea. Her father brought her charred bones to me… She was so small…"

Samwell was silent for a moment before asking,

"Were there witnesses?"

"Only her father."

"Then it's far from certain," Samwell said. "The father might have killed her himself. Don't be surprised—I've seen men kill their daughters to rid themselves of 'burdens.' Or it could be a plot by the Sons of the Harpy, burning a child to frame your dragons and turn the city against you."

Daenerys said nothing, overwhelmed by exhaustion.

Perhaps she wasn't suited for the Game of Thrones.

Scheming, deceit, and endless plots—she couldn't handle any of it.

Perhaps I should marry him, she thought suddenly. Be his queen rather than foolishly trying to be one on my own.

But he's never formally proposed, she realized.

Daenerys recalled their time in Astapor—how they had kissed, how they had quarreled. During one argument, he had mentioned wanting her as his queen, but it wasn't a real proposal.

He should propose, she thought, like Prince Quentyn of Dorne, or Hizdahr zo Loraq of Meereen. Even that audacious mercenary captain Daario had declared his feelings outright.

"After the incident, you imprisoned your dragons? There are only two here. Where's Drogon?"

Daenerys suppressed her jumbled thoughts and replied,

"Yes. Viserion was the first I captured. I lured him here myself with a freshly slaughtered bull. Once he had eaten his fill and grown lethargic, the Unsullied chained him."

As if hearing his name, Viserion flapped his wings again, pulling against the chains with a creak. Frustrated, he turned and unleashed a burst of golden fire at the wall.

Who knows how long until his flames could melt the iron and shatter the bricks?

"Rhaegal took more effort," Daenerys continued. "He seemed to hear his brother's roars through the walls. I struggled to calm him before the Unsullied cast a heavy iron net over him.

"He was so strong—it took three days to drag him to the pit. Six men were burned in the process.

"As for Drogon… he's the strongest and fiercest of the three. We tried to capture him but failed."

"Where is he now?"

"He flew away," Daenerys said, her voice trembling with emotion. "He spread his black wings and soared north, past the Skahazadhan River, toward the Dothraki Sea. He's never returned."

Samwell was silent for a moment before saying,

"You can't keep your dragons imprisoned forever."

"I know. This place was once a slave pen, and while it can hold two dragons for now, how long can it last? They're growing more violent by the day. Will they eventually attack each other with fire and claws? Will they wither, their wings frail and their flames extinguished?"

"Targaryens once built the Dragonpit in King's Landing—a far larger and grander structure than this. Yet even there, the dragons weakened and withered."

"I don't want this," Daenerys admitted. "But what if they attack people again? Has Cleopatra ever hurt the innocent?"

Samwell shook his head.

"Not that I've seen."

"Cleopatra seems so tame," Daenerys mused. "How did you train her to obey so well?"

"Dragons must be tamed," Samwell replied. "You've heard stories of Targaryen dragonriders, haven't you?"

"Yes. Viserys used to tell me those tales. He said a dragon must choose its rider, and once it does, it won't accept another. Even Aegon the Conqueror couldn't ride Vhagar or Meraxes, and his sisters couldn't ride Balerion the Black Dread.

"Though after Aegon's death, Balerion took new riders. Still, no dragon ever had two riders at the same time, and no person ever rode two dragons."

Viserion roared again, smoke curling from his jaws, golden flames flickering in his throat.

"You're right. Dragons need riders. While you're their mother, you haven't earned their full trust as a rider would. That's why they remain untamed."

"To earn their trust? To become a rider?" Daenerys murmured, her voice uncertain like a child's. "How do I do that?"

"For others, it's nearly impossible. But you're a Targaryen—a true dragonblood. Even so, you'll need courage. Dragons don't bond with the weak."

"Courage…" Daenerys repeated softly.

The dragons roared in unison, their voices reverberating through the chamber as furnace-like heat swirled around them.

In their hellish eyes, Daenerys saw raw power and hunger. For the first time, she hesitated.

Would they devour me?

"You can only bond with one dragon," Samwell reminded her. "No one can ride two."

Daenerys glanced between Rhaegal and Viserion, unsure.

"I suggest Drogon," Samwell said. "He's the largest and fiercest."

"But he's gone…"

"He'll return," Samwell said with conviction, his confidence easing Daenerys' fears.

To be honest, she wasn't ready to tame any of them. Both Rhaegal and Viserion now felt alien and terrifying.

What kind of mother fears her own children?

The thought filled her with shame.

"They say dragons are monsters…" Daenerys whispered.

Samwell laughed, his voice echoing:

"We are of dragonblood. If dragons are monsters, so are we."

His laughter drowned out the dragons' roar.

Daenerys turned to look at the man beside her, and her trembling heart finally calmed down. All her hesitation, guilt, and panic disappeared at this moment.

"Yes, we are monsters too!" she declared loudly.

Then she hugged the man desperately and went for his lips.

(End of Chapter)