Game of Thrones: Reign of the Dragonking-[100] Fire & Blood Again

Chapter 100: Fire & Blood Again

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Zahran zo Maar reclined upon cushions woven from the finest silks of Qarth, their deep crimson hue reminiscent of wine. Or perhaps blood. The afternoon sun slanted through latticed windows, casting patterns across the marble floor of his private chamber atop Yunkai's tallest pyramid.

Four slave girls – no, "servants" now, though the distinction existed only in name – fanned him with ostrich feathers imported at ridiculous expense from the Summer Isles. He sipped lazily from a jeweled goblet, savoring the vintage from his vineyards outside the yellow walls. The sweet liquid warmed his throat, bringing a smile to his lips.

Today was a good day to be alive. A good day to be rich. A good day to be Zahran zo Maar, Master of Masters, unofficial ruler of Yunkai.

"By now, Meereen's rules and order must have been obliterated," he said aloud, though none of his slave girls replied. Their silence was proper—he hadn't asked a question, after all. Merely stated a delicious fact.

His gaze drifted to the city sprawled beneath his pyramid. Yunkai, resplendent in yellow brick and golden domes, stretched toward the distant bay. How easily they'd regained control after that silver-haired bitch had "liberated" them.

The Dragon Queen had swept through like a summer storm. Violent, destructive, but ultimately temporary.

"Fools," Zahran murmured as another servant lifted a succulent grape to his lips. "They thought themselves so clever, those other Masters. Squabbling like children over scraps while I positioned myself perfectly. What do you think?" he asked the slave who fed him, hand roaming to her chest even though she was young enough to have been his granddaughter.

She kept her head low, “Y-yes, of course.” He liked her voice, although he failed to recall her name. What was it again?

Anyhow, it had been almost too simple.

While the others panicked after Daenerys Targaryen's departure, he'd calmly assessed the situation. Sent whispers to slaves about how much harder life was without their masters' protection. Stoked fears among the nobility about rival families. Played each faction against the others until, piece by careful piece, he'd assembled the perfect hierarchy—with himself atop it.

"The patient predator always feasts," his father had taught him, before Zahran had arranged the old man's convenient demise. Patience had served him well, indeed.

The messenger from Meereen had arrived that morning, confirming what his spies had reported. The Sons of the Harpy had no issues with preparation, so they must have perfectly staged their attacks by now. The Unsullied must have faltered. The Dragon Queen's supporters must be in chaos.

He selected another grape, pointing his chin at it, and the young girl fed him. He ran his tongue over its smooth skin, her finger alongside it, before biting down. Sweet juice burst across his palate, matching his mood perfectly while the girl closed her eyes with a silent wince. He let her finger go, smirking.

"More wine," he commanded, gesturing to the girl. Now he recalled her age, although her name still eluded him. She was a girl no older than fourteen. The proper age, he mused. Old enough to be useful, young enough to be malleable. She moved gracefully, head bowed, to refill his goblet.

Soon, all of Slaver's Bay would return to the old ways. His ways. Already, the other cities looked to Yunkai for leadership. Already, his network of spies and assassins extended through every major port from Volantis to Qarth.

"And tomorrow," he said, raising his goblet in a mock toast to himself, "we begin negotiations to restore the slave trade to its former glory. The world as it should be."

The sudden crash of his chamber door flying open shattered the tranquility.

A man stumbled in—one of his messengers, face slick with sweat, eyes wide with something Zahran rarely saw in his presence. Unbridled fear.

"How dare you enter uninvited!" Zahran snapped, setting down his goblet with enough force to slosh wine onto the priceless carpet. "Guards!"

"My lord," the messenger gasped, dropping to his knees. "Please—you must listen—"

"I must do nothing you suggest," Zahran replied coldly. "You will be flogged for this intrusion."

"The Sons of the Harpy," the man continued desperately, "they've been slaughtered. Our network—exposed. The siege—"

Zahran sat up straighter, wine and comfort forgotten. "Explain yourself. Now."

"Dragons, my lord." The messenger's voice cracked. "Two dragons descended upon the fighting pits. The golden one... it spoke. The Sons of the Harpy were destroyed in minutes! Molten gold flames engulfed them all. It was- it was hell! And now—"

"Impossible." Zahran rose to his feet, his comfortable world suddenly tilting. "The Dragon Queen has only one beast under her control, the other one was stolen. Our informants confirmed this."

"Not anymore," the messenger whispered. "The brother, Viserys Targaryen, the King of Westeros—he commands the golden dragon. He saved the Dragon Queen when our assassins had her cornered."

Rage rose in Zahran's chest, hot and sudden as dragonfire itself.

His carefully constructed plans, his meticulous plotting—all threatened by these foreign upstarts with their unnatural beasts. "You lie!" he roared, advancing on the messenger. "Our spies reported the brother was in Westeros! That the queen was isolated, her dragons contained!"

"I—I only report what I saw, my lord," the man stammered, shrinking back.

Zahran's fist crashed down on a delicate table, sending a crystal decanter shattering to the floor. "Incompetence! Idiocy! Who leaked our plans? Which of you betrayed me?!" He whirled on his attendants, who had backed against the wall, their fans forgotten.

"My lord," one girl whispered, her voice trembling, "perhaps we should send word to the other Masters—"

"Silence!" Zahran bellowed. "I'll have your tongue for speaking without permission! I'll have all your—"

The world exploded into golden light.

Without warning, the far wall erupted inward. Sheets of flame cascaded into the room, instantly igniting the delicate silks and priceless tapestries. The slave girl who had dared speak disappeared in a column of fire, her scream cut mercifully short. Heat blasted Zahran's face, singing his beard, stealing the breath from his lungs.

"What—" he gasped, staggering backward.

More flames poured through the breach, hungry tongues licking at the ceiling, the floor, consuming everything they touched. Black smoke billowed upward, blinding him. Through streaming eyes, he glimpsed the messenger crawling toward the door, only to collapse as a burning beam crashed down upon him.

The shrieks of the remaining girls pierced the roar of the inferno, a terrible harmony of fear and pain. Zahran stumbled toward the main entrance, but it too was blocked by fire, the wooden door already crumbling to ash.

No. Not like this. Not after everything I've built. It can’t be!

Lungs burning, he dropped to his knees, crawling beneath the worst of the smoke. The heat pressed down like a physical weight, the skin of his hands blistering as they contacted the scorching marble floor.

Through the billowing darkness, he spotted a rectangle of light—the balcony. His one chance.

Inch by excruciating inch, he dragged himself toward it, the fine clothes he'd donned that morning now smoldering against his flesh. The pain was exquisite, unbearable, yet the alternative was worse. With a final, desperate lunge, he pulled himself onto the balcony, gulping the relatively fresh air.

Only then did he look up.

Yunkai—his beautiful city, his power base, his legacy—was dying.

Golden flames engulfed the surrounding pyramids, their ancient stones cracking in the heat. Streets had become rivers of fire, and people fled like ants before a storm. Even at this height, the screams reached him, a chorus of terror that would haunt him if he lived long enough to remember it.

And there, hovering against the smoke-darkened sky, was death incarnate.

The dragon was more beautiful than Zahran had imagined, more terrible than his darkest nightmares. Scales like polished gold caught the light of the fires below, making the beast seem as if it were itself aflame. Wings wider than the greatest sailing ship beat the air with measured strokes, each movement precise and controlled. Its eyes—gods, its eyes—burned with intelligence no beast should possess.

Atop the golden monster sat two figures, silver hair gleaming against the darkness. The Dragon Queen he recognized immediately, her face set in a cold mask of judgment. Beside her, one arm supporting her broken form, sat a man whose features mirrored her own—yet carried something harder, crueler, more calculating.

Viserys Targaryen, the brother she'd left behind, the king who had conquered Westeros while she struggled in Slaver's Bay. The Targaryen who the Slaver's Bay should have feared instead.

Together at last, come to deliver their vengeance.

As if sensing his gaze, the dragon turned toward him, jaws parting to reveal teeth like black daggers. For one suspended moment, Zahran locked eyes with the beast—and felt somehow that it recognized him. Knew what he was. Knew what he had done.

His legs gave way beneath him, warm liquid spreading down his thighs as his bladder released in terror. All his power, all his wealth, all his schemes—worthless now. He would die here, watching his city burn, knowing he had failed.

"Shit," he whispered, the word inadequate yet somehow capturing the totality of his despair.

The dragon's chest expanded, golden scales shifting like armor plates. Zahran saw light blooming in its throat, a sun rising behind monstrous teeth. His final thought was almost philosophical—a detached wonder at how something so beautiful could herald such complete destruction.

Then came the fire, and Yunkai learned that dragons do not forgive, they do not forget, and they most certainly do not show mercy to those who have wronged them.

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The air reeked of charred flesh and molten stone. Golden firestorms devoured Yunkai’s pyramids in liquid rivers of light, each collapsing tower scattering embers like dying stars. My vision flashed with endless notifications—a cascade of pale blue boxes melting at the edges from the heat.

Dany trembled against me, her whisper barely audible over the screams. "Children... the slaves... they’re burning too, brother."

I shifted her weight in my arms as Viserion banked, granting us a panorama of the Masters' district crumbling into glowing fissures.

"Divine fire can’t discriminate, unfortunately," I said, watching a dozen specks—people? statues?—vanish in a burst of gold. "Mortals make worthy ink when history needs writing. This..." I nodded as another pyramid folded in on itself, "...is our scripture."

She stiffened. "Monstrous."

"I apologize if you think of me that way, but this is necessary. In my book." Below, the slums stood untouched, and crowds spilled into alleys to gawk upward. In the inferno’s light, faces glowed orange, and mouths rounded with awe. “Besides, not all of Yunkai burns. Only the higher district does, and even the ‘civilians’ living here are corrupt.”

More than 90% of Yunkai was unharmed. I was hard-headed, but not cruel enough to burn them all. The few unlucky ones to burn beside the Masters were just unfortunate.

Within the unharmed part of the city, I observed as a weaver dropped her basket, linen scraps scattering like white doves fleeing the flames. A smith’s hammer fell forgotten as he sank to his knees.

Viserion roared, and the city shivered.

Dany’s nails dug into my arm as the last pyramid collapsed, its rubble boiling the bay into steam. The System’s chimes faded at one point, leaving only the crackle of annihilation.

Mmm. I inhaled deeply—ash and salt and something sweet. Power, distilled.

"Look," I murmured into her hair. "They’ll remember this day as liberation."

Her breath hitched. Not agreement. Not yet.

But below, a slave child pointed at us, laughing as his master’s world burned.

Spoiler

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Author Note: I find my inner poet in this chapter, even though there’s no greater message hidden here when seen from any other perspective than Viserys’. 100 Chapters! I hope you liked it, and the story so far.

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