Game of Thrones: Rise of the Supreme Dragon Queen

Dany frowned and said, "My subordinates are not slaves. From this moment on, do not call me 'master,' and you don't need to refer to yourself as 'this humble one' either."

Missandei glanced at her fearfully and asked in a small voice, "Then... how should I address you?"

"Refer to yourself as 'I' and call me 'Khaleesi' or 'Princess,'" Dany corrected her.

"I understand, Khaleesi," Missandei replied, though she still seemed confused as she looked at the long ranks of Unsullied. "But... aren't they slaves?"

"Not for much longer," Dany sighed, choosing not to correct her way of speaking further. Instead, she asked, "Are the Unsullied truly obedient?"

"In truth, the Good Masters only taught them two things: combat and obedience. If you ordered them to stop breathing, they would find it easier than disobeying."

"And if I ordered them to be free?" Dany asked.

Missandei hesitated. "No one has ever given the Unsullied freedom before. I don't know what would happen. Perhaps they would be confused... and then they would do whatever you tell them."

Barristan interjected, "Westeros forbids slavery. If the Queen reclaims her throne and then commands them to slit their own throats, would they obey?"

"Yes," Missandei's eyes dimmed as she spoke softly. "However, the Unsullied are valuable. If they are no longer useful, they could always be sold again."

"Hahaha, don't worry! Ser Barristan was just joking," Dany reassured the young girl. "I've already said that my subordinates are not slaves. They will all become free men."

She then added curiously, "You seem particularly averse to the idea of them committing suicide. Do you have friends among them?"

Had she really grown close to Grey Worm?

But she's only ten years old!

"No... no, I have no friends among the Unsullied," Missandei struggled to say.

"Then... do you have family among them?" Jorah asked in surprise.

"Y-Yes," Missandei lowered her gaze and spoke in a quiet voice. "I have three brothers who became Unsullied, Ser."

"But you're only ten. The training of an Unsullied takes ten years," Dany said, puzzled.

"I was sold to Astapor along with my brothers when I was barely one or two years old. Originally, I had five brothers, but only two survived the Unsullied training. I have a talent for languages, so I became a scribe for the Good Masters," Missandei said sadly.

Dany felt a deep pang of sympathy. She leaned over, gently patting the girl's head, and asked softly, "Do you still remember your homeland, Naath?"

"When I was three, one of my brothers described to me an island so beautiful it seemed like paradise. After he died, no one spoke of it again. Now, all I remember is that Naath is full of butterflies—so many, so beautiful," Missandei murmured, her golden eyes clouded with both confusion and sorrow.

Smack! Dany suddenly slapped her saddle and declared, "Missandei, you and your brothers are free. Tomorrow... no, in a few days, I will arrange a ship to take you back to Naath, back to your homeland. You can see for yourself how beautiful the butterflies are and witness the paradise your brother once described."

But instead of cheering, the girl looked terrified. She panicked and said, "I... I want to stay. I want to serve you."

Dany saw the fear in her eyes and swallowed the words she had intended to say.

I will send you home.

She made the promise silently in her heart but chose not to press the matter. The girl had been shaped by the masters for years—she had likely endured many similar "tests."

"This girl's story is somewhat like mine," Dany sighed, turning to Barristan and Jorah. "We were both born on islands, lost our parents at a young age, and ended up in foreign lands... as slaves."

"You were not a slave," Barristan frowned.

"Oh, really?" Dany smirked and glanced at Jorah. "Ask Ser Mormont—was I not sold to the Khal by Illyrio and Viserys?"

Jorah's face turned red, and he looked down without speaking.

Technically, Daenerys really was a slave. Illyrio orchestrated the deal, and Drogo "purchased" her from Viserys in exchange for either the Iron Throne or twenty thousand Dothraki screamers.

The sound of rapid hoofbeats came from behind them.

Turning their heads, they saw Euron Greyjoy galloping toward them, dust rising in his wake.

Neigh—!

Euron yanked the reins, and his horse reared up, whinnying as it came to a stop. The yellow dust cloud he had kicked up blurred everyone's vision.

"Your Grace, we've traveled four or five miles outside the city. Isn't it time you set me free?" Euron shouted.

"I was wondering about that," Dany frowned, waving away the dust in front of her face. "Why are you still following my army?"

Euron blinked in surprise before saying, "I can leave now? But what about my sailors? You promised to release them as well."

"Your pirate crew is at the city gates. Didn't you see them?" Barristan said.

"No!" Euron looked confused. "I thought—"

"Oh, you went the wrong way," Jorah laughed. "We left through the main gate of Astapor, but your crew is at the gate near the docks."

Euron blinked.

"Hahaha," Dany chuckled. "You've been following us for over an hour, and you're just realizing it now?"

"That old bastard tricked me!" Euron pointed at Barristan and cursed. "He only said my men were outside the city gates."

Barristan stroked his long white beard, sighing, "We are traveling by land, heading a thousand miles north into the Great Grass Sea. But aren't your men sailing back to Westeros? Of course, they would be at the docks."

"Wait—you left Silence behind?!" Euron's eyes lit up in excitement.

"Dream on. That ship is mine now."

Groleo's three ships were cargo vessels, but Euron's longship was a warship. Dany planned to keep it and use it to gain naval supremacy—why would she return it?

"Then how am I supposed to return to Westeros? Swim back?" Euron sneered.

"Her Highness left you with 500 gold honors. Your sailors can work for passage on a ship. One way or another, it'll be more than enough for you to eat and drink your way back to the Seven Kingdoms," Barristan said.

Euron gave Daenerys a deep look before spurring his horse and riding away.

Daenerys glanced around and then said, "This should be good. We'll make camp here for the night."

Having just left Astapor, the roads were flanked by farmland, fields of wheat, vegetables, and olive trees. But after over an hour of travel, the landscape changed—wild grass overran the path, the wheat fields vanished, and all around them stretched barren wilderness.

Whether or not the Unsullied were the strongest army remained to be seen, but their discipline and obedience were undoubtedly unmatched. At Daenerys' command, it took them only half an hour to shift from a five-man-wide marching column into a massive, square formation of one hundred men per row.

And this was a force stretching nearly three kilometers in length!

Daenerys didn't need to shout orders at every individual. She only had to ensure that the leading ranks understood her instructions, and the Unsullied would relay the orders down the line with precision.

This also made her realize that even among the Unsullied, a structured chain of command existed.

In stark contrast stood the nearly one thousand Dothraki slaves. Their shackles had been removed, yet the slave collars still clung to their necks.

Daenerys intended to use the Dothraki who had retained some sense of freedom as an example. She ordered them to form a similar formation on the opposite side of the Unsullied—ten rows of one hundred each.

The result? A complete mess.

The Dothraki stood in a disorganized, chaotic mass, looking more like a pile of spilled mud than a proper formation.

With no better option, she had them link hands and encircle the Unsullied, forming a rough perimeter. In the end, over nine hundred Dothraki stood surrounding the disciplined ranks of the Unsullied.

This ordeal took another hour. Then, Daenerys ordered two hundred mounted Dothraki warriors to spread out around the camp to prevent any passing merchant caravans from accidentally stumbling into their midst.

Originally, she had only about sixty warhorses left, but Jorah had acquired another hundred in Astapor, ensuring that nearly every Dothraki man now had a horse of his own.

The women and children were given mules—cheaper, gentler, and easier to manage.

Riding slowly in front of the Unsullied formation, Daenerys turned to the outer perimeter where Qhono and the others stood and called out, "Unleash the true dragons."

"Screeech—"

The three young dragons, confined for three or four days, lifted their heads and let out piercing cries. Then, with a powerful push of their hind legs and vigorous flaps of their wing-sized-as-blankets, they soared into the sky, their wings beating with a "whoosh-whoosh" sound.

"Screeech—"

"Screeech—"

"Screeech—"

The three dragons, about the size of small ponies, circled above Daenerys, their shadows flickering over the Unsullied and Dothraki slaves in the blazing midday sun.

The Dothraki slaves' faces filled with both awe and fear. Even the stone-faced Unsullied showed flickers of emotion—uncertainty, reverence, curiosity.

"Drogon, listen to my command. When the moment comes, lead your brothers in breathing fire."

Daenerys silently instructed the black dragon, preparing for her grand entrance.

Then, she took an iron-plated horn from her saddle, raised it to her lips, and, in a loud, clear voice, declared:

"I am Daenerys Stormborn, heir to House Targaryen, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Mother of Dragons!"

As she spoke the final title—"Mother of Dragons"—Drogon immediately opened his jaws and let out a deafening roar, "Screeech—"

Then—"Fwoosh!"

A jet of blood-red dragonfire, stretching seven to eight meters, erupted from his mouth.

"Screeech—Fwoosh!"

Viserion and Rhaegal followed suit, releasing their own torrents of flame.

The three vividly colored dragons wove their blazing breath together, forming what looked like a crown of fire above Daenerys' head.

The sight left everyone in stunned silence. The Unsullied, the Dothraki slaves, even the newly joined members like Whitebeard, were all awestruck.

With her grand entrance complete, Daenerys raised her hand. The dragons ceased their roaring and fire-breathing.

Then, using the horn once more, she proclaimed loudly:

"There will be no more slaves in my army. Now, I will break the collars around your necks. All you must do is say the words—'I want freedom.'"

She deliberately repeated the statement in both Dothraki and Valyrian, four times in total.

After all, the formation had four sides.

She couldn't guarantee that every single person heard her, but at least 40% would understand.

Then, her silver mare trotted toward a Dothraki slave. Staring down at him, she asked loudly, "Slave, do you wish to remain a slave, or do you want to be free again?"

"I—" The middle-aged Dothraki man hesitated.

I'm just a simple horseman. I've never been through anything like this before!

Khaleesi, a little hint, maybe?

Daenerys wasn't concerned. She lifted the horn again and addressed the Unsullied, "Freedom must be earned—even if it's as simple as speaking the words."

"Now, slave, remain a slave, and I will send you back to Astapor. But if you shout, 'I want freedom,' you will join my Khalasar and fight for the Mother of Dragons."

The horn's sound rumbled in the Dothraki's ears, nearly making him piss himself.

But Khaleesi's hint was clear—he certainly didn't want to go back to Astapor, so whatever she said, he would do.

After all, he was a slave. It was his duty to obey his master.

"I want freedom!" he shouted, his face contorted with emotion.

"You are free," Daenerys announced.

Clink! Aggo and Jhogo stepped forward and unfastened the bronze collar from his neck.

(End of Chapter)

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