Chapter 351: Riding the Dragon

"Your Grace, how deeply your people adore you!"

At the highest step of the staircase, Hizdahr zo Loraq called out in an exaggerated tone. His arm extended, inviting Daenerys to ascend and take his hand.

Daenerys, however, remained where she was, her violet eyes glinting coldly as she gazed at him.

The intensity of her stare made Hizdahr's heart tighten, and the smile on his face began to falter.

He called to her again, but the cheers of the crowd drowned his voice. Daenerys stood motionless.

Realizing something was wrong, the Green Grace exchanged a furtive glance with a red-robed priestess beside her. The two women stepped down the stairs to approach the queen.

Below, Ser Barristan and Ser Jorah Mormont exchanged a glance of their own and began ascending the steps.

Hizdahr muttered something, but his words were lost in the roar of the crowd.

The Unsullied moved into action, their dark green helmets forming a wave as they advanced toward the stairs. The menacing spikes of their helmets gleamed sharply under the scorching sun.

The Green Grace's face paled as she let out a panicked shout.

The nobles of Meereen began to stir uneasily, whispering amongst themselves.

Hizdahr turned abruptly, his mouth opening to speak—

A shadow swept across his face.

The murmurs and cries of the crowd stopped abruptly, replaced by a sudden, deafening silence.

All eyes turned skyward.

Daenerys looked up as well, her gaze tinged with surprise. It wasn't the white dragon. It was—

Drogon!

Her heart swelled with joy.

He's back!

The black dragon circled above the temple, its obsidian scales gleaming, offset by the crimson of its horns and spine.

The largest of Daenerys' three dragons, Drogon had grown even more imposing during his time in the wild. His black wings stretched a full thirty feet wide, their edges like sharpened blades slicing through the air.

The Green Grace froze, her heart pounding wildly. Before she could decide whether to proceed with the assassination plan, an even larger shadow descended, blotting out the sun and casting the temple into darkness.

Caesar.

And his white dragon.

If Drogon's appearance had stirred the crowd into chaos, Cleopatra's arrival sparked outright panic.

The white dragon swept low over the gathered masses, the thunderous sound of her wings like rolling storm clouds.

The hot wind she generated scattered the crowd, toppling people like leaves.

Hizdahr stumbled backward, scrambling to escape. The nobles of Meereen broke into a frantic stampede, revealing the armed soldiers they had concealed—men wearing Harpy masks and wielding spears.

Daenerys immediately realized the truth: these nobles had intended to assassinate her during the wedding.

But against dragons, such a pitiful force was laughable.

Sure enough, Cleopatra unleashed a torrent of flame from her mouth. The black-and-red blaze streaked across the air, engulfing the nobles and their soldiers in an instant.

Screams and cries filled the air as the upper tiers of the stairs became a sea of fire.

Standing just three wide steps below, Daenerys felt the scorching heat wash over her as she watched Hizdahr, the man meant to marry her, consumed by flames.

Suddenly, she burst out laughing, her voice clear and unrestrained amidst the chaos.

"The gods!" wailed the Green Grace, collapsing onto the steps. "Spare your people!"

She raised her arms toward the temple as if pleading with some deity hidden within its walls.

The nobles surged downward, screaming and shoving in their desperation to flee the inferno. Many tripped over the cumbersome folds of their tokar robes.

The clever ones cast aside their garments, abandoning dignity and decorum in their bid to escape the white death descending from above.

Outside the temple, the masses dissolved into a cacophony of shrieks, cheers, and curses.

The Unsullied encircled the temple, shields raised and spears poised. They cut down fleeing nobles without hesitation.

Cleopatra landed with a ground-shaking thud at the top of the stairs, her massive weight causing cracks to spiderweb across the stone.

Drogon followed, descending more slowly. He stretched his claws toward the charred bodies, clawing through them to pick out a meal.

"No!" Daenerys shouted, her voice sharp with command.

"The gods!" the Green Grace moaned, clutching her stomach. "It's eating people!"

The wails of the crowd reached a fever pitch.

A soldier wearing a Harpy mask suddenly charged out from the blaze, spear in hand. With a crazed yell, he rushed Drogon.

Perhaps he had heard of the child who had supposedly died in dragonfire. Perhaps he had already resigned himself to death and sought to leave his mark as a hero, even if it meant slaying the smaller, black dragon.

But as the soldier sprinted forward, Drogon turned and released a blast of searing flame.

The man disintegrated before he could get close.

Yet his act of defiance seemed to inspire others. Three more soldiers lunged at Drogon. The dragon swatted two aside with his wings and tail, but the third climbed onto his back, driving a spear into the base of his neck.

Daenerys and Drogon screamed in unison.

Luckily, the dragon's scales absorbed most of the blow, and the spear barely penetrated. But Drogon reared in agony, his roaring echoing through the temple grounds.

The soldier's victory was short-lived. With a quick snap of his neck, Drogon seized the man in his jaws, tearing his body in two before tossing him aside like discarded meat.

"Kill it! Kill it!" the Green Grace shrieked hysterically.

Cleopatra turned her attention to the remaining attackers, incinerating them with another jet of flame.

But Drogon, writhing in pain, became even more agitated. He spread his wings, creating powerful gusts of air and kicking up clouds of dust.

Daenerys felt Drogon's anguish and rushed forward instinctively.

"Don't!" Jorah grabbed her arm.

"Your Grace, stop!" Barristan blocked her path.

But Daenerys turned to Samwell, seeking his guidance.

He stood tall atop Cleopatra's back, meeting her gaze with steady confidence.

"Don't be afraid, Dany!" he called out. "You are of true dragon blood—a dragonrider by birth! Show your courage and claim your dragon!"

His words lit a fire within her. Daenerys broke free from Jorah's grip, pushing past Barristan. She sprinted toward Drogon.

The flames cascading down the stairs burned away her sandals, scorching the soles of her feet. But she didn't stop.

The searing heat ignited a defiant resolve in her heart.

Ahead, Drogon thrashed in pain, his wound smoldering as black smoke rose from it.

"Drogon!" Daenerys shouted. "Drogon, look at me!"

The dragon turned, smoke curling from his nostrils and fire flickering deep in his throat.

"No!" Daenerys stumbled to his side, her voice trembling but firm. "Don't you recognize me?"

Drogon lowered his massive head until his snout was nearly touching hers.

She could feel his fiery breath, see her reflection in his molten-gold eyes—a tiny, fragile figure, radiating fear.

No! She refused to let him see her fear.

"Drogon," she commanded, her voice rising with authority. "Kneel!"

The black dragon let out a deafening roar, nearly knocking her back.

Samwell tensed, ready to intervene, but paused as Daenerys boldly placed her hands on Drogon's side.

"No!" she repeated. "Kneel, Drogon!"

For a moment, the dragon hesitated, his wings beating slower and slower until they folded against his body. He lowered himself to the ground.

Daenerys exhaled shakily, her courage finally rewarded. She climbed onto Drogon's back, her fingers gripping the embedded spear.

With a firm pull, she yanked it free.

The molten tip glowed red-hot, and black blood dripped from the wound.

Dragons are fire made flesh. Daenerys remembered the words from old stories.

And so am I.

She looked up to see Samwell smiling at her, his thumbs raised in approval.

Daenerys smiled back.

Drogon spread his wings and leaped into the air.

The temple below vanished beneath her as she soared into the sky.

Meereen burned.

Freedmen scattered like ants. The nobles either perished in flame or fell to the Unsullied's blades.

The city was chaos.

Cleopatra rose to join them, her white wings gleaming as she flew alongside Drogon.

"How does it feel to ride a dragon?" Samwell called out.

Daenerys laughed freely, her voice ringing above the carnage.

"Incredible! It feels like the world is mine!"

She tore off her tokar gown, casting it into the wind.

High above the city, her silver-gold hair streamed behind her, her violet eyes blazing with triumph.

Samwell looked at her—a fiery vision of a beautiful Fire maiden in front of him and was about to say something when he suddenly heard a sharp horn sound.

He immediately looked down and saw dense armies appearing outside the four gates of Meereen.

"The Yunkai'i attack!" Daenerys exclaimed.

"Don't panic..." Samwell had just said half of his sentence when he heard another low horn sound.

The sound of this horn was completely different from the previous ones. It seemed to come from the abyss of hell. The horrifying sound drilled straight into people's ears, as if to ignite their flesh and blood.

Moreover, after hearing the horn, the white dragon and the black dragon suddenly became restless.

Samwell was suddenly startled and turned his head sharply to look west.

There a fleet appeared on the white wax sea.

A flag with a golde kraken pattern on it fluttered in the wind.

(End of Chapter)