Hand of the Queen

12

The sounds of clashing metal come from outside this horrific cell, I lift my weak neck to look towards the door. The fighting comes closer and closer, the sound of swords growing ever louder. Finally, the last of it stops, and there's a short pause before footsteps follow. Then, his beautiful face turns the corner.

"Alysanne." Aegon breathes, a laugh riddled within a sob comes from my mouth as he rushes to me. Without one swift movement, he breaks the chains from my wrists and his sword clatters to the ground. "Oh, Alysanne." He cups my face in his hands and presses a kiss between my brows. He quickly slips his sword back into the hilt and pulls me into his arms, lifting me as though I was his bride and walking out of the cell.

...

I sit on the balcony of the pyramid as Missandei braids through my hair, my eyes remain shut against the morning breeze. I feel her fingers finish the last braid and lay it into my hair.

"Your highness," She says, quickly walking from the balcony. I do not turn to look at him, do not open my eyes as his footsteps approach behind me.

"Where is Melania?" I say, my voice barely a whisper.

"She's alright, barely even a scratch." Aegon says, he slowly settles into the seat beside me. "I should have never let this happen to you." I shake my head, reaching to take his hand in my own.

"It is not your fault, Aegon." He rubs his thumb across the back of my hand, staring down at my skin. "Where is Daenerys?"

"When the Sons attacked, she escaped on Drogon's back. Jorah and Daario have already gone looking for her." I look to him in surprise.

"Jorah?" He slowly nods.

"There is much you have missed, my Lady." Aegon meets my eyes with his gentle ones. "Daenerys sent Unsullied looking for you everyday, Varys had his spies searching every inch of the city. I don't believe I saw Edlin rest even once. Everyone here did not sit by for a moment while you were gone." He places a hand on my face. "Are you ready to see them?" I slowly nod and he helps my to my feet. We make our way through the halls of the pyramid until the throne room comes into view.

"Alysanne." Edlin says, rushing to me. The old sailor wraps me into a tight embrace, I let out a breath and crumble into him. He holds my arm as we walk to Varys, the Master of Whisper smiles and takes my hand in his own.

"We were worried sick, Lady Stark." Varys says, I look behind him to see a familiar face.

"Tyrion?" I ask, the man smiles to me with a nod.

"Hello, Lady Alysanne." He says. "I've come to serve the rightful Queen." I take a breath and regain the posture of Lady Stark.

"For now, we must hold this city without our Queen. I will not allow Daenerys's work to crumble while she is gone."

The harsh reality of our situation settles in, the anger that seethes through my veins at the treatment I was made to go through. No, this will sit within me no longer. The Sons will die for what they have done to this city, what they have done to House Targaryen.

They have forgotten who their Queen is, it is time we remind them.

...

The gown that covers my skin is of a different style, it's black silk billows around my feet. An armored black corset holding a direwolf run along side a mighty dragon cinches around my waist. Missandei sweeps my dark hair into many braids, only a few loose pieces left to frame my face. Small sleeves wrap around my shoulders and hang loosely off them.

After the loss of our fleet, only a few ships remain for House Targaryen, this is a price we cannot afford. While Varys has already sailed ahead to gain Westerosi allies, I will settle the qualms that remain here. I stand beside Aegon as the masters of Astapor and Yunkai arrive, looking smugly at the lack of ships within our harbor.

"Welcome to Meereen." I say, clenching my jaw as they approach us. "Please, come with me." Aegon and I lead the men through the streets, the view of the pyramid drawing ever closer.

"Another foreigner come to take our city." One of the men says, unknowing of our Valyrian tongues.

"At least this one is better to look at." Another says, earning a chuckle from his companions. I watch Aegon's grip on his sword tighten, but he makes no move to retaliate. If things should go to plan, this may very well work on our favor. The walk through the pyramid is long, Unsullied do not move their eyes from the masters within their walls. Tyrion, Missandei, Edlin, and Greyworm sit waiting within the council room.

"Help yourselves to the wine." I say, motioning to the seats. The Maester hands me a slip of parchment as the masters settle in, I quickly take in the words. My final correspondence through raven with Daario, Jorah, and the Queen, and their conformation that they will arrive on schedule. "We have asked you here to discuss peace among our cities, and freedom for all of our people." The men glance to one another.

"And why would we give up our slaves to you?" He says; Missandei repeats the words in common tongue, offering us the illusion that I am lost to their words. I allow the facade of weak diplomat to fade away, folding my hands in front of me as my stance grows taller, stronger. Melania peruses  the room, taking in the smells of the masters who sit among us.

"All that will be left of you is fire and blood if you do not accept our terms, masters." I say, Valyrian slick across my words. Aegon takes a careful step behind me and meets each of their eyes. "I offer you a choice. We will grant you seven years to transition from slavery, and compensation for the masters who face any losses. In return, you will cease your support of the Sons of the Harpy." Greyworm and Edlin stand beside one another as the masters deliberate through hushed words. Greyworm meets my eyes and I gently nod to him, he disappears down the stairs and through the pyramid. The masters finally look up, the same smug smile on their faces.

"No." He says, I smile at him as the familiar flap of wings comes from outside.

"I had hoped we could come to some sort of agreement, but it appears you have forgotten what the Queen holds beneath her pyramid." I say, smiling as their fear follows the roar outside. "I know of the fleet that sits within our harbor, preparing a siege on the city, I knew the moment they left your own home." The Unsullied pull the masters to their feet and force them onto the balcony, they watch in horror as Drogon burns their fleet to ash and splinters.

"This is not possible." The master says, I step closer to him. Tyrion watches me with careful eyes, a smile pulling on his lips.

"One of you will die to send a message to your people, to remind them what Queen rules these cities. I will allow you the gift of choosing which one of you it will be." I say, I watch as they scramble to throw one man forward. Yezzan, I believe his name was, pleads and begs at my feet. I nod to Aegon and he slices his dagger across the other master's throats. Yezzan looks to me in shock, horror fills his eyes. "Take this message back to your cities, if you can survive the streets of our own."