A Requiem of Ash and Stars

CHAPTER 16: TIDES OF UNITY

Dany sat at the head of the council table, hands folded, trying not to show the weariness that clung to her bones. The chamber rose in graceful stone arches overhead, the warm light of midday streaming in through tall windows. Her silvery-gold hair, usually braided in intricate Dothraki designs, spilled loose around her shoulders today—she had not found the time or will to style it. The gatherings of the Essosi council had become a daily routine, an unending tapestry of problems to solve, reforms to enact, and subtle battles to wage. She was still grappling with the understanding that she, Daenerys Targaryen, served as Hand of the King in a land she'd barely known a year prior. But Jaehaerys—Jon—had left the two of them in charge, and she would see it through, for his sake and for the sake of the freed peoples they had liberated.

Across from her, Viserys lounged in his seat, arms crossed, bright violet eyes scanning the faces of those gathered. He was the Master of Laws, drafting codes and reforms that Jaehaerys had requested. Dany noted how her brother's once-fretful face held a calm confidence now. Conquest, success, and the sense of purpose Jon had bestowed upon him had tempered Viserys's old bitterness. Where once he seethed with resentments, now he poured that fervor into building a new legal framework for a realm free of slavery. At times, Dany glimpsed a quiet satisfaction in him—proud to be forging a kinder system, even if his pride still burned bright.

The rest of the council sat around the wide oval table. Each city in Jaehaerys's empire had appointed two representatives—elected officials from Meereen, Yunkai, Astapor, Qarth, New Ghis, Volantis, and others that had fallen in line. Some were former slaves, others free merchants or local administrators. All of them had come to hold Jaehaerys in near-religious esteem, grateful for the downfall of slavers and tyrants. They spoke in hushed, respectful tones, though their debates could turn fiery if a city's interests seemed threatened. Alongside these city representatives stood the designated heads of key offices: Grey Worm, the Lord Commander of the Freed Armies and newly formed Royal Guard; the Master of Ships, a grizzled Wolf Pack commander who had once led raids in Westeros; the Master of Coin, a slim figure representing the Iron Bank; Thorn, standing behind them all as the Master of Whispers; and finally Viserys as Master of Laws, Dany as Hand of the King, and an empty seat signifying the absent King, Jaehaerys Targaryen, who was off completing personal training.

Dany inhaled slowly, letting the chatter quiet. Dozens of pairs of eyes turned to her. So many problems in this empire. She forced her voice to remain steady. "We'll begin with the Lord Commander's update on the recent rebellion. Grey Worm, please."

Grey Worm stood, back rigid, fists at his side. He wore plain armor without adornment, though he had a new insignia pinned at the shoulder—a direwolf entwined with a dragon silhouette. "Yes, my Queen—my Hand," he corrected himself, remembering that Dany was not queen but rather served as Jaehaerys's Hand. "The rebellion led by the surviving master families in New Ghis has been put down. They tried to rally brainwashed slaves, promising them restoration of old ways. Our forces, joined by loyal Freedmen militias, cornered them. After minimal bloodshed, we captured the ringleaders. The misguided slaves have since been re-educated about their rights under Jaehaerys's law. There is no sign of further resistance in that region."

One of the city representatives from New Ghis, a former scribe, bowed his head. "We are relieved. Those slavers refused to accept the new order. Thank you, Commander."

Grey Worm nodded curtly, then continued. "Also, we have begun forming the Royal Guard as commanded by the King. Each member of the royal family—His Grace Jaehaerys, Her Grace Daenerys, and Lord Viserys—will be assigned five sworn guards, tasked with their protection above all else. Ser Barristan Selmy, who joined us after being dismissed by King Joffrey, helps oversee the selection. He is widely respected, so Freedmen recruits trust his guidance."

Dany smiled at the mention of Ser Barristan. "We are fortunate to have his knightly expertise. The Freedmen see him as living proof that even a Westerosi knight can stand for justice. Good. Any final notes, Grey Worm?"

The Lord Commander turned his calm eyes on her. "Only that we require additional training ground in Meereen for the Royal Guard, unless you direct us to a different city. Our men prefer to keep a central presence near your seat of power."

Viserys interjected, leaning forward. "Meereen remains the best hub for now, until Jaehaerys finalizes a capital. Make sure each guard sworn is loyal beyond question. The King gave us that directive—no infiltration or hidden vendettas. I trust Ser Barristan's vigilance, but be thorough."

Grey Worm saluted. "Yes, Master of Laws."

Dany signaled him to sit, then gestured to the Master of Ships: an older Wolf Pack mercenary with broad shoulders and a sun-scarred face. He wore dark leathers. Rising with a faint grunt, he addressed the table. "We have consolidated nearly every mercenary fleet in Slaver's Bay. The small groups bent the knee swiftly, but the largest sellsword fleets banded together in a last stand near Lys. With help from Her Grace Daenerys's Battle Meditation, we crushed them. Thorn and her Faceless Men scoured the ranks for those who might harbor treachery. The survivors have joined us, swearing loyalty under Jaehaerys's banner. Our naval might is formidable—enough to face any threat across these waters. We do rely, however, on continued coin for ship maintenance and wages. The Master of Coin can speak to that."

He sat. Dany suppressed a sigh; these details were endless but necessary. She beckoned the Master of Coin, a tall figure with gold-rimmed spectacles, representing the Iron Bank's interests. The man stood, clearing his throat. "Financially, we are stable, especially with tribute from conquered slaver cities and taxes from freed trade routes. However, many infrastructure projects remain undone: roads, aqueduct repairs, port expansions. The King's vision for a stable economy demands continued investment. We also must keep paying the Freed Armies, the Wolf Pack, and the new Royal Guard. That alone is an enormous sum. So long as all remain loyal, and we gather taxes fairly, we can sustain it. Should we face major rebellions or an external threat—like an invasion from Westeros—our coffers might be tested. The Bank would prefer we stockpile more reserves."

Dany tapped her fingers on the table, recalling how Jaehaerys wanted more roads, better living conditions, and a reliable sense of prosperity for everyone. "Continue your cautious approach. We can't overtax the Freedmen or we risk returning to old tensions. But yes, build a reserve. We must be ready for war if Westeros chooses to strike or if the King leads us there. Thank you."

The Master of Coin bowed, took his seat. Next, Thorn, the Master of Whispers, stepped forward with a small stack of parchments. Her presence was quiet, lethal in its subtlety. She was the one who had orchestrated many purges of slaver conspiracies, all under the silent approval of Jon. She rarely spoke unless delivering intelligence. "The Faceless Men remain embedded in each major city. We find minimal seditious talk now—loyalty to Jaehaerys is at an all-time high. Freedpeople see him as a liberator, slavers fear him. Either way, none openly defy him. My agents confirm that any potential uprisings are extinguished quickly, often by local Freedmen themselves. The Red Faith fosters devotion to him—some see him almost as a divine figure, though he discourages worship. But reverence grows anyway."

Viserys let out a short laugh. "Of course they treat him like a god—he wields these Force powers, breaks chains, unites armies. If I hadn't seen it, I'd scarcely believe it. But so long as it fosters stability, we'll accept their adoration."

Thorn nodded. "Yes, my lord. That's essentially the state of affairs. Peace is as strong as it's ever been in these lands."

Dany felt relief flood her. "That's good news. We still have so many tasks, but it's heartening that we're not embroiled in constant war. Thank you, Thorn."

The city representatives then brought up local issues—harvest schedules, trade caravans, how to handle sea storms. Dany and Viserys listened, occasionally turning to the Master of Coin or the Master of Ships for clarifications. The meeting continued for over an hour, a swirl of talk that tested Dany's patience. She realized yet again how she disliked the tedium of ruling. She could fight battles, free slaves, stand beside her brother or Jaehaerys. But the day-to-day arguments of distribution or petty squabbles drained her. She missed simpler times, or at least times when the path was clearer.

Finally, after hearing each city's requests and approving a handful of new building projects, Dany signaled the meeting's end. The city representatives filed out, bowing or curtsying. Grey Worm, the Master of Ships, the Master of Coin, and Thorn remained behind, awaiting last instructions. Viserys rubbed his temples, visibly exhausted. Dany sympathized. "That's all for today," she said gently, "We'll reconvene next week unless an emergency arises. Grey Worm, proceed with the Royal Guard selection. Master of Ships, keep the navies patrolling the coasts. Master of Coin, gather more funds discreetly. Thorn, maintain your watch."

They saluted, departing. Thorn lingered as Dany signaled her to remain. Viserys rose from his seat, pacing near the table's edge. "I need a breath of fresh air," he muttered, but he paused, noticing Dany's glance. She gave him a nod. "We both do, but first, let's talk with Thorn about the letter from Jaehaerys."

Thorn stepped closer, lowering her voice. "Yes, my lords. You wish to know the latest regarding the King's whereabouts? He is finishing his training, as you know. Word arrived from the Red Faith watchers that he left Meereen with Arya Stark, heading north by ship to Westeros. Specifically, to the Isle of Faces, seeking a mystical resource he calls kyber crystals—though none here know that term. He said if none exist, he'll search for a substitute. The journey might last weeks or months. He left Sansa in the North, escorted by unsullied forces, and retained Arya for training. The King's plan is to broaden her skill with the Force, as he's done with you both. Meanwhile, Sansa returns to her family seat, presumably wanting to help the North in the war."

Dany and Viserys exchanged glances. Dany let out a soft sigh. "So he's truly gone, back across the sea, alone with Arya. That… makes sense for him, I suppose. Always forging his own path." She felt a pang of longing, missing the presence of her nephew—or brother, as the official story used to go. She might have been older in years, but she often felt he was more mature, more assured. "He's confident we can maintain stability here in his absence."

Viserys smirked, arms folded. "I'd prefer him by our side, but I can't deny we've done well. Essos stands calmer than it's ever been. And if he needs to find these crystals to refine his lightsaber forging, or however that works, so be it. Let him chase the mysteries of the Force. Meanwhile, we govern in his name."

Thorn nodded. "Indeed. The people remain steadfastly loyal. No major threats loom. We have the Freed Armies, the Wolf Pack, the Red Faith, the Faceless Men. This alliance is nigh unstoppable. Any small rebellion is stamped out swiftly. The Freedmen councils love the King, near worship him."

Dany glanced at Viserys, noticing the flicker of relief in his eyes. "I'm grateful, too," she said softly. "He rescued us from a life of exile or danger. Now we shape a realm beyond our wildest dreams. You especially, brother… you used to dream of the Iron Throne, but here you are, forging real laws that help people. How do you feel about it?"

Viserys gazed at the mosaic floor. "Sometimes I think back to how lost I was—my thirst for power overshadowed everything. Then Jon—Jaehaerys—appeared, and everything changed. I lost illusions about claiming Westeros through fear alone. Now we have an empire based on justice, or something close to it. We've made mistakes, but it's worlds better than the old ways. I'm… content, Dany. My old grudges fade. I only regret the family we lost, the father, mother, Rhaegar. But continuing the Targaryen line in a kinder form is enough. I want to do right by Jaehaerys's vision."

Thorn watched them, expression unreadable. She recognized their sincerity but rarely showed emotion. Dany exhaled. "Then we keep at it. If Jaehaerys is crossing to the Isle of Faces, he might attempt to unify or glean something. I wish him luck. We'll ensure Essos stands firm until his return."

Viserys's lips curved. "Agreed. Let the realm see that Targaryens can rule with compassion. No more tyranny. That's the legacy we want."

Thorn dipped her head. "I'll pass on any new messages as soon as they arrive. For now, Essos is stable. The Freedmen councils effectively govern day-to-day. We only handle the highest matters—like major security or finance. If anything, your greatest challenge might be the monotony of administration, not war."

Dany gave a wry chuckle. "Sometimes monotony is worse than war. But yes, we'll endure. Thank you, Thorn. That's all."

The assassin bowed lightly and slipped away, cloak trailing. Dany watched her vanish, marveling at how seamlessly the Faceless Men wove in and out of power. Then she turned to Viserys. "Shall we get that fresh air?"

He nodded, offering an arm. They left the meeting hall, stepping into a wide balcony that overlooked Meereen's central plaza. A mild breeze greeted them, carrying the faint smell of baked bread from street vendors. Below, Freedmen bustled, going about their daily business. The once-constant tension, the threat of slaver conspiracies, had nearly vanished. Dany observed how different life was from the day she'd first arrived in Slaver's Bay, desperate to free a few thousand. Now an entire continent saluted their banner.

Viserys leaned on the railing, eyes trailing distant caravans entering the city gates. "Sometimes I recall the day I fought Drogo and the other Dothraki. I feel like everything after that was a dream. We're no longer exiles. We're the law."

Dany nodded. "And it's heavier than I expected. The demands never end."

He cast her a sympathetic look. "You want the truth? I'm tired, too. We both are. But we do it for Jon—and for the people who rely on us." A short laugh escaped him. "Funny that I find peace in passing laws, ensuring bastards get recognized, or women can become knights. I used to scorn such notions. Now I see how essential they are for a just realm."

Dany placed a hand on his shoulder. "Jon's changed us. Let's be grateful. And the fact that we maintain peace says we're doing something right."

They lingered there, letting the city's warmth wash over them. Dany's mind drifted to the memory of Jon's presence, the quiet strength in his eyes. She recalled how he'd said "I won't be your King if you want another path, but I'll stand by you if you let me." She had chosen to stay. Now, ironically, she was the Hand, fulfilling tasks that gave her no joy. Yet she had no regrets, because it served a cause larger than herself.

After a time, Viserys sighed. "We should get back to drafting the next set of laws. Jaehaerys demanded a code guaranteeing no persecution based on race, gender, or religion. That's a tall order in a land once built on oppression. But I'll see it done."

Dany turned, offering a half-smile. "Yes. Let's do it. Better to have peace in the small tasks than endless war."

They returned indoors, continuing their daily duties. Letters to sign, council members to meet, Freedmen committees to answer. The hours blurred, each bringing new minutiae of governance. By the evening, Dany found herself in her private chambers, exhausted. She sank onto a cushioned chair, letting a servant light the lamps. She rubbed her temples, reflecting on how she used to dream of the Iron Throne, how the Targaryen name was entwined with dragons and conquest. Now she was living a conquest, but it felt more like an unending chore than the triumphant dream she'd once imagined. Perhaps that was the lesson: real rulership was not about flamboyant crowns or feasts, but daily, grinding effort.

A discreet knock startled her from her thoughts. "Enter," she called. The door cracked open, revealing Thorn's lean figure. Dany arched a brow, motioning for her to approach. Thorn shut the door behind her.

"Pardon the intrusion," Thorn said quietly, "but I have fresh word from our watchers near the Isle of Faces, or so our network claims. The King's ship was spotted off the coast of the God's Eye. We can confirm he's traveling incognito with only Arya Stark and a small retinue. They aim to land soon, seeking… well, we're not sure. Some mystical grove, presumably."

Dany nodded. "Yes, the King mentioned that. He's searching for a power source to replicate or replace kyber crystals, something essential for forging his special blades. Thank you, Thorn."

Thorn inclined her head. "Also, the Freed Armies in that region of Westeros remain on standby if Jaehaerys requires them. So far, no request. He must intend a quiet approach."

Dany let out a slow breath. "He does love his secrecy at times. Let him be. Arya is with him, which is comforting. They'll help each other. Thank you for the update."

Thorn bowed, stepping out. Dany felt an odd pang of longing. She missed Jon, missed the sense of guidance he brought. Yet she also knew he needed to be free to pursue the final threads of his plan. She only hoped the White Walkers or the chaos in Westeros wouldn't claim him first.

The next morning, another council session, smaller in scope, hammered out details of expanding the Freedmen Councils in lesser cities. Viserys took the lead, unveiling a draft law that formalized women's rights to property, knights' ranks, and recognized bastards' legal inheritance if claimed by their father or mother. The city representatives welcomed it, though a few voiced concerns about social upheaval. Dany overcame their objections by citing Jaehaerys's direct instructions, that no child be cast aside for circumstances of birth. The measure passed. One more piece in a tapestry of reforms that made Essos unrecognizable from the old slave states.

At midday, the city's bells pealed from the high temple spires, signifying a day of festival. Freedmen thronged the streets in a spontaneous celebration—rumors had spread that any last rebel slaves had surrendered, and that the war in Essos was effectively over. Dany and Viserys gazed from the palace balcony at the swirl of color below. People danced, sang, hoisted banners with the direwolf-dragon crest, chanting the King's name. "Jae-haer-ys! Jae-haer-ys!" Some even lit small braziers in thanks to the Red Faith, praising their new champion.

Viserys let out a laugh that held no small wonder. "They treat him like a messiah. I was once taught to see Targaryens as gods among men, but never believed it could be literal. Yet here, they practically worship him. Strange times."

Dany gave a soft smile. "He never asked for worship. He wanted freedom for them. But devotion sprang up anyway. Let them celebrate. They're free from whips, from tyranny. If they see him as divine, perhaps it's just gratitude."

Viserys nodded, leaning on the railing. "We truly owe him everything. I remember how I was once full of rage, wanting to burn cities. Now I help build them. If Jaehaerys hadn't arrived, perhaps I'd have died in obscurity, or become a petty tyrant. I'm grateful. That's all."

Dany placed a hand on his shoulder. "So am I. Let's hope our efforts remain worthy of his trust."

They spent the afternoon in a smaller meeting with Freedmen leaders, discussing how to handle the festival crowds, ensuring no riots or accidents. All went smoothly, the people joyous. By twilight, the city glowed with lanterns, music drifting through the warm air. Dany found herself in the throne room once more, signing a final stack of decrees. Viserys departed to rest. Thorn patrolled the corridors, ensuring security. The day felt triumphant yet draining.

As Dany finished the last parchment, she caught a reflection of herself in a polished shield on the wall. She saw not the timid girl who once wandered the Red Waste. She saw a leader weighed by responsibility. Her hair, pinned behind her ears, revealed lines of exhaustion around her eyes. She took a steadying breath, remembering Jon's unwavering gaze. She told herself she could bear this burden until he returned. And if the realm asked for more time, she would do it, for him and the freedpeople.

That night, she dreamed of storms at sea, dragons swirling overhead, and a figure with eyes like molten gold forging a luminous sword. She heard the chanting of Freedmen in a thousand tongues. When she awoke in the early dawn, her pulse drummed, a sense of destiny swirling around her. She dressed quickly, stepping out into the courtyard to greet the morning's tasks with renewed resolve.

So ended another day in Meereen, a city once choked by chains, now alive with festivals. The Targaryens—Dany and Viserys—stood at the helm of this new Essosi empire. They had hammered out laws that uplifted women, recognized bastards, and abolished slavery. Grey Worm, the Master of Ships, the Master of Coin, and Thorn had all done their parts. Jon's vision guided them even in his absence. And from across the sea, the King himself, Jaehaerys Targaryen, carried Arya Stark to the Isle of Faces, chasing answers only he could unlock.

For now, the heart of Essos beat in relative harmony, forging a unity unprecedented in these lands. Dawn rays illuminated the city's spires, reflecting off mosaic tiles. Dany inhaled the fresh air, standing atop a high terrace. She whispered a prayer to no one in particular, perhaps the old gods or the Seven, or even R'hllor. Let this peace last. Let Jon's final quest succeed. Let them face the future armed with a realm freed of chains, strong enough to stand against whatever darkness lurked beyond. She closed her eyes, summoning calm.

Below, the Freedmen stirred from their homes, the hum of daily life beginning anew. The Targaryens would lead them, in Jaehaerys's name, as best they could. Whether or not they felt worthy, they had to be. That was the burden of kingship—one she and Viserys bore now, shaped by the boy from the North who had become a conqueror across the sea. And until he returned, they would keep his empire whole, forging laws and alliances that might outlast any war.

Such were the tides of unity that swept Essos, forging a new dawn from the ashes of slavers' cruelty. The future beckoned with promise and peril, and Dany's heart stirred with both fear and hope. She gripped the terrace railing, letting the sun warm her face, and whispered one final vow: "I will not fail you, Jon. I will keep this land safe."

And with that silent promise, she turned and walked back inside, ready to shoulder the day's endless tasks, secure in the knowledge that for all the hardships, they were forging a better world together, piece by piece, city by city, dream by dream.