The Dragon Queen

Jēnqa ampā

The infiltration of Dragonstone was unexpected. The Baratheon guards did not see their deaths coming; all they saw was a beautiful girl with long brown hair walking toward them with a basket and a bright smile. "My lady sent me to deliver some bread to the brave guards," she said, blushing softly as she handed them the basket before quickly walking away.

The men huddled together to watch her walk off before laughing. "Such a pretty little damsel—she would make a good wife."

They unwrapped the bread and shared it amongst themselves, each taking a large bite and nodding in approval. "Maybe we should see how willing she is," one murmured as he ate.

"She's untouched, but did you see those hips? I can imagine bending her over and filling her cunt."

The others nodded in agreement, each finishing his bread before returning to his post. It started slowly—a cough, an uncomfortable feeling—before they began to struggle for breath, clawing at their throats as they fell to their knees.

As they gasped and writhed, several figures appeared before them. The girl was no longer in a dress, no longer smiling. This time, she wore armor with the Targaryen sigil on her chest and smirked. "Be careful—there could be poison in your food," she said dryly. Behind her, one man, larger than the others, gave her a nod of approval as his men dragged the dead bodies away.

"Davra tat." (Good work.) Drogo said as he strode toward the doors. Arya smiled. "San athchomari yeraan, anna Khal." (Thank you, my king.)

She followed him into the palace, her brown hair now tightly tied back and out of the way. They walked through the halls, unchallenged. Many guards had already been killed or knocked unconscious. Sending the Unsullied to infiltrate had been a wise choice. Both Drogo and Arya frowned at the sight of Baratheon sigils hanging over their queen's ancestral home.

Stannis was in King's Landing, but his wife and child had remained in Dragonstone. Daenerys had left strict instructions not to harm them. As they secured the castle, Arya entered the girl's chambers. Books filled every corner, and the young girl lay in bed reading by candlelight.

"Shireen Baratheon."

The girl looked up, her eyes widening at the sigil on Arya's armor. Yet she did not cry for help. Instead, she rose to her feet, the grey-scale on her face catching the candlelight. "Does my older cousin come to claim her birthright?" she asked, staring into Arya's cold, gray eyes—the eyes of a Stark.

Arya nodded. "Come."

Shireen followed her obediently to the throne room.

She watched as her mother was dragged in by guards she did not recognize. Then the door opened, and a woman strode in. She wore armor emblazoned with the Targaryen sigil, a crown resting on her head of silver-white braids. A bloodied sword hung at her side. Behind her were three armored women and several Dothraki warriors.

The woman smiled faintly. "Hello, cousin."

Shireen bowed. "Hello, Your Grace."

Daenerys nodded in approval. This child was smart and respectful. She stepped forward, pulling down yet another Baratheon banner before sitting upon the throne. Her violet eyes lost their warmth as they settled on Lady Baratheon. 

"Your daughter greets me with honor and respect, yet you spit in the faces of my blood riders and attempt to curse my husband. Should I kill you and send your head to my traitorous cousins?"

Shireen remained silent as her mother shrieked at the Dragon Queen. She lowered her head in shame, but a hand on her shoulder made her look up. A tired and worn Ser Davos stood beside her. He looked rough, but relieved. The two stood together as the Dragon Queen approached Selyse Baratheon, who ranted about the Seven destroying her.

Daenerys drew her sword. "Ser Davos, turn my cousin away."

As the man moved to obey, Shireen shook her head. "No, I want to see."

Daenerys nodded in understanding. With one swift motion, she severed Selyse Baratheon's head from her body. The corpse crumpled to the ground. The Dragon Queen gave the sight barely a glance before turning to one of the women at her side. "Instruct everyone to set up and prepare. Also, have the servants clean this mess up."

The woman nodded and began issuing orders. Daenerys stepped toward the young girl and knelt before her.

"Ser Davos sent me a letter months ago about you, and I see he was right. You deserve better, child."

Tears flowed freely down Shireen's face. Her cousin placed a soft kiss on her forehead before turning to Arya. "I hate to take you away from celebrations, but can you look after my cousin?"

The youngest Stark gave a curt nod. "I have no issue, Your Grace."

Daenerys smiled, then walked to Drogo. He gave Shireen a small nod before leading his wife from the room. Daenerys glanced at the Twelve Dragons settling in. She had left trusted people in Essos to oversee each city, ensuring her rule. She had abolished slavery and implemented fair wages for labor, gaining the love and loyalty of her subjects.

"Vod chafaan, Stannis." (Rest in peace.) Daenerys murmured, wrapping Selyse's head in a cloth along with a letter. She handed it to one of the surviving Baratheon guards. They would be reminded of who she was as she dismantled them piece by piece.

She leaned back into her husband's embrace and sighed. The time was coming, and many were going to burn.