The Lost Stark

A gift from Dorne

~Daenerys
Together, Harper and I stand on the balcony, watching the attack on our city. "They have a decent number of ships," she says with a grin.
"They do," I agree, studying them. "But not enough to get us to Westeros."
"Not all of us," she mumbles to herself.
"What are you thinking?"
"If we remove all of our forces, then the Masters will return, and Slaver's Bay will be riddled with slavers once more. Even now, they are bold enough to attack like this because they don't know the Targaryen way. Yes, Father set six of them to the flame, but she isn't you." She takes a breath and narrows her eyes on the biggest ship in the middle. "With fire and blood, we scare them enough to stop attacking Meereen, then we will take hold of the ships they so graciously brought to us. And when we leave, we'll leave the Second Sons here to rule in your place."
"You want me to burn their ships?" I ask, surprised.
"Not all of them, just enough to get your point across."
"The Dragons will not stop at just a few; your father is the only one who has a semblance of control over them."
"They will listen to you," she argues. "You hold the same connection as Father; I have seen it."
The opening of the chamber door abruptly ends our conversation. "My Queen, the small man is requesting an audience."
"Let him speak; I know we are both wondering how all this," she gestures to the ships, "came to be."
I give Harper a small smile before facing the Unsullied soldier. "Let him in, then leave us," I tell him. "Call them," I tell her quietly. She looks a bit shocked but then nods her head and lets out a small whistle. When there is no response, I watch as her brow furrows. "Try again," I urge her, trying her best to whistle like Ryker has done plenty of times before she continues until a loud screech is heard above. "Good job," I say proudly, kissing the side of her head.
Turning to face the doorway, I take a deep breath and walk through, trying to hold back the anger I feel towards the lion that awaits us. Slowly I make my way from the balcony. As soon as my eyes adjust to the dark room, they lock onto the nervous man. I don't say a word as I move forward, intentionally making him feel uneasy. One thing Ryker had told me after making up from a fight was that when angered, I tend to have a way of holding a glare that could, in her words, make even the most silent of men spill their secrets.
"Despite appearances, I think you'll find the city's on the rise," the lion pleads, as if he is trying to convince himself more than me but fails when another trebuchet hits the pyramid.
I hear Harper let out a snort as she takes a seat at the table and props her feet up, looking like she's enjoying his discomfort. "The city is on the rise?" I hear her ask while I continue to hold my glare on the Lannister.
"Meereen is strong," he answers her. "Commerce has returned to the markets. The people are behind you," he pleads and flinches at another crash. "Well, not all the people, of course. No ruler that ever lived had the support of all the people. But the rebirth of Meereen is the cause of this violence. The Masters cannot let Meereen succeed. Because if Meereen succeeds, a city without slavery, a city without Masters. It proves that no one needs a Master."
"Good," I tell him simply. "Shall we begin?"
The look of confusion takes over his hairy face. "Do we have a plan?"
I break eye contact with him in favor of glancing at my daughter, the way she sits relaxed, eating fruit while our city is under attack, reminds me of Ryker. Once our eyes meet, she gives me a nod of approval and goes back to eating her fruits. "I will crucify the Masters. I will set their fleets afire, kill every last one of their soldiers, and return their cities to the dirt," I say, taking a step closer. "That is my plan. You don't approve?" I ask when he backs away, cowering.
"You once told me you knew what your father was. Did you know his plans for King's Landing when Lannister armies were at his gates?" He asks before looking to Harper, seemingly asking for help. When she offers none, he lets out a sigh and turns back to me. "Probably not. Well, he told my brother, and Jaime told me. He had caches of wildfire hidden under the Red Keep, the Guildhalls, the Sept of Baelor. All the major thoroughfares. He would have burned every one of his citizens. The loyal ones and the traitors. Every man, woman, and child. That's why Jaime killed him."
"This is entirely different."
"You're talking about destroying cities. It's not entirely different," he rebuffs. "I'd like to suggest an alternate approach," he offers.
Just as I'm about to ask, the balcony doors blow forward in a fireless explosion, launching my daughter across the room as wooden splinters fly around her. "Harper!" I call out, rushing to her.
Groaning, she turns over on her back and looks up to the ceiling, bearing small cuts to the side of her face that start slow trickles of blood to run. "Ouch," she mumbles as she tries to sit up.
I turn back to Tyrion. "Get word to the Masters, tell them I wish to discuss terms of surrender."
"Your grace, I-"
"Now, Tyrion," I order, turning back to Harper. Helping her back to a chair, I reach to the table and pick up a piece of cloth, then wet it in the basin.
"I'm fine, Mother," she pushes the cloth away from her face.
"You were almost blown apart," I argue back, trying to hide the tremble in my voice.
She stands to her feet abruptly, almost pushing me over. "We have other things to worry about right now."
"You're just like your father," I mumble to myself. Letting out a sigh, I throw the wet cloth on the table. "I would be a fool to ask you to stay behind, would I not?" I ask her.
"Aye, you would," she responds with a grin. "Let's thank the gods that you are no fool."