End of the Faceless Men

Alex and Daenerys stood atop a hill, gazing down at the dragons resting in the vast field below. The creatures shimmered in the fading sunlight, their scales reflecting hues of white and crimson. Daenerys's eyes lingered on them, awe evident in her voice.

"I never imagined there are even more powerful dragons in the world than the last dragon of Valyria," she said, recalling the legends passed down through her family.

"There are, of course," Alex replied, his gaze steady. "But not of this world."

He turned to her, his expression softening. "I know you are truly kind in your heart. You hate those who oppress the weak and abuse their power. But know this, tyrants are born when power consumes the soul. Do not let your past cloud who you are meant to be. There will be no Iron Throne anymore. Long gone are the struggles of power, for power."

Daenerys let out a breath, her face relaxing as her expression brightened. "Yes, Your Grace. I will keep that in mind," she said with a gentle smile.

Alex smiled back. "You can pursue what you want in this new world. You can even marry again, have a family, and be happy."

Daenerys's smile faded, and her voice wavered. "I... I can no longer bear a child."

"Who said so?" Alex replied firmly. He stepped closer, his hand gesturing towards her stomach. "May I?"

Daenerys hesitated for a moment before nodding. She moved her arms to her sides as Alex placed his palm gently on her stomach. A warm, golden energy pulsed from his hand, enveloping her in a soothing wave. She closed her eyes, letting out a soft moan as comfort and vitality flowed through her.

After a few seconds, Alex withdrew his hand and smiled. "Now you can."

Tears welled in Daenerys's eyes as she dropped to one knee before him. Her voice rang with conviction as she spoke her oath:

"I, Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, do solemnly swear to serve and obey you, Alex, Emperor of Realms, with loyalty and honor. I vow to uphold your laws, enforce your will, and safeguard your realm from all enemies. With fire and blood, I pledge my life, my dragons, and my army to your cause. From this day until my last breath, I shall be your sword, your shield, and your faithful servant. This I swear before the gods old and new."

Alex extended his hand, helping her rise. "Rise, you don't have to be so formal. Gods are a thing of the past; I trust you to be a peacekeeper of the realm. Go now and prepare your army at Winterfell. We have much work ahead."

Daenerys bowed deeply before departing. As her silhouette disappeared toward Winterfell, Alex returned to his camp. There, he was met by his commanders, and five masked men bound and kneeling in front of the cabin.

Alex's sharp gaze settled on them. "What's the matter with them?"

One of his commanders, the leader of the archer division, saluted and stepped forward. "We caught them sneaking toward your position, Your Majesty."

Alex approached the captives, forcing them to look into his eyes. Power surged as he delved into their memories, his expression hardening.

"Assassins," he said coldly. "I did not expect them to move this fast, using the Faceless Men, no less."

He straightened and turned to the dragon rider commander, an elf with a tall stature, sharp features, and silver hair. Alex had named him Lindir, for he resembled the elf from the Lindir of Middle-earth.

Alex placed his hand on Lindir's forehead, transferring visions of the Faceless Men's strongholds, hidden bases in Braavos and scattered across Westeros.

"Assign a hundred dragons to wipe out these strongholds within three days. Sink their main base to the bottom of the sea," Alex commanded.

Lindir bowed deeply, his voice firm. "Yes, Your Majesty. As you command."

Without hesitation, Lindir turned and gave the signal. Moments later, the sound of wings filled the air as dragons and their riders took flight, soaring in all directions to hunt down the most feared assassins in the world.

Word of the battle at Winterfell and the arrival of the conqueror spread across Westeros. Tales of his divine army and dragons echoed through cities and villages. People spoke of the dragons' power and the unstoppable force that was the Silver Moon Legion.

In the Iron Islands, Euron Greyjoy celebrated his arrival in King's Landing, oblivious to the fate of his homeland. Dragons descended upon the Iron Islands, unleashing flames that reduced entire strongholds to ruins. The surviving population fled to the mainland, their ships crowded with desperate refugees.

When Euron received the news days later, his laughter died, and his confidence wavered. Fear gripped him, but his pride kept him rooted in Cersei's court.

In Braavos, panic erupted as dozens of dragons circled overhead, heading toward the feared strongholds of the Faceless Men. Moments later, the horizon lit up as the islands trembled under the assault.

Explosions and dragonfire consumed the bases, and the seas churned violently. Witnesses watched as the islands crumbled and vanished beneath the waves, triggering tsunamis that devastated nearby coasts.

Brave sailors ventured toward the destruction days later, only to find empty waters where the feared islands once stood.

With the Faceless Men eradicated and the Iron Islands left in ruin, Alex's message was clear, resistance was futile. His dominion was absolute, and none who opposed him would survive.