Game of Thrones: Second Son of House Targaryen

Chapter 303: Mother of Dragons’ Second Husband

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The broad-shouldered slave owner, his face glistening with sweat, raised the whip in his hand and lashed it mercilessly across the backs of the slave oarsmen. The crack of the whip echoed over the water as the oarsmen, pulling the heavy cargo boat, chanted a low, mournful song.

"Faster! Don’t slack off!" the slave driver barked. With another sharp crack, a bright red welt appeared on the slave’s scrawny back, quickly attracting flies under the scorching sun. The slave owner, irritated by the heat, cursed the sun silently, wiping the oily sheen from his forehead.

Suddenly, a shadow fell over him. He thought it was just a passing cloud, but when he looked up, his breath caught in his throat. Above him, several massive creatures circled in the sky—creatures he had never seen before.

"Dragon! It’s a dragon!" he screamed.

Although he had never seen a dragon in person, the tales and descriptions left no doubt. With its sharp talons, fiery breath, and an air of dominance, it was unmistakable. Panic surged through him. He tossed aside his whip and bolted toward the shore.

The slaves, upon seeing the monstrous creatures, scattered in all directions like ants before their natural predator, abandoning their cargo and fleeing for their lives.

The reaction of the common folk and merchants of Slaver's Bay was starkly different from that in the Free Cities. The moment they saw the dragons, chaos ensued. Soon, the Meereenese guards on the north bank of the estuary spotted the winged beasts and sounded the alarm, their horns echoing across the city.

The garrison of Meereen scrambled to the city walls, though anxiety filled the air. The city was high and strong, built of bricks and pounded earth, with defenses for pouring hot oil on attackers. But against dragons, the very creatures of legend, those fortifications seemed insignificant. Tales from Slaver's Bay had always spoken of dragons as invincible.

As the horn wailed, the nobles of Meereen retreated to their towering pyramids, sending their servants to investigate the commotion.

The tallest of these pyramids, over 800 feet high, was the seat of Meereen's ruling class, where decisions about the city's fate were made. Surrounding it were twenty smaller, golden pyramids—private estates of the nobles.

Atop one of the smaller pyramids, a slender man with black-red hair gazed up at the dragons. This was Hizdahr zo Loraq, the second husband of the Mother of Dragons in the original timeline.

Though he had not gone to Astapor to await Viserys’s arrival, he was well aware of Viserys’s plans for Slaver’s Bay. Seeing the dragons, however, surprised him.

Though they were smaller than the legends suggested, they were larger than the rumors had claimed.

Hizdahr remembered hearing from the Warlocks of Qarth that the dragons would be no bigger than turkeys, but now, looking at them with his own eyes, each one was easily the size of a buffalo. With their wide wingspans and thick tails, they appeared even more terrifying.

Hizdahr found himself puzzled. He doubted Viserys intended to attack Meereen, so why were the dragons here? With a furrowed brow, he ordered his servants to prepare a litter to carry him to the port.

Meereen had its own fleet, and it was their presence that had so far prevented Viserys from entering the port.

...

"The Warlocks know our strength, and these slave owners won't dare attack us on their own land. What they want is to lull us into a false sense of security, so we might as well play along!" Viserys declared confidently, addressing Dany, Hoyt, Shiera, Jorah, and young Connington in the cabin.

It was a strange strategy, and Dany looked at her brother in confusion.

"So, Dany," Viserys continued, "if necessary, we might even have to stage a fight."

"Fight?" The word felt foreign to her, especially when used between her and Viserys.

Viserys planned to play the part of a king "too content in the capital," while Dany would try to reason with him, only for him to lose his temper dramatically. The performance would carry them through Meereen, then Yunkai, and finally Astapor, where the Unsullied would be converted to their cause. It was a crucial step in his larger plan to sack Slaver's Bay and even Qarth, leaving no room for error.

"Ser Jorah," Viserys commanded, "tell all the officers that when we reach Slaver's Bay, they may act as they wish. But anyone who loses their nerve and can't hold a spear when the time comes will not return with me."

"Yes, Your Grace," Jorah responded, his face set with determination.

Young Connington, barely older than Dany, was visibly excited. His father’s warnings about Viserys had proven true—his "Emperor" was clearly up to something ambitious.

As Viserys finished giving his orders, an ornately decorated ship approached their fleet, and the sound of a horn echoed across the water. It was Hizdahr zo Loraq. The man had shown courage-after all, in the original timeline, he had married a woman who rode a dragon.

Upon meeting Viserys, Hizdahr recognized him immediately, his posture respectful but full of curiosity. "Hizdahr zo Loraq presents his sincerest greetings to Emperor Viserys Targaryen."

"Hizdahr zo Loraq," Viserys said, eyeing the young man in his late twenties. He recalled the information he had gathered on him. "Lord Hizdahr, my journey was originally to purchase as many Unsullied as possible to strengthen my army and prepare for the recapture of my ancestors' Iron Throne. But I’ve heard Meereen's gladiators are formidable as well, so I came to see for myself."

‘Is that so?’ Hizdahr thought to himself, a flicker of doubt crossing his mind. But outwardly, he smiled and responded with enthusiasm, "Your Grace’s wisdom is unmatched. The gladiators trained in Meereen are exceptional warriors—fearless and relentless. They would undoubtedly be an asset to Your Grace's restoration of the kingdom."

Hizdahr himself owned more than 200 gladiators and several arenae. His polished manners and deference did not go unnoticed by Viserys and his companions. To them, Hizdahr appeared to be a young man of considerable power and wealth, tied by blood to Meereen's most influential houses. Regardless of Viserys’s true reasons for coming, Hizdahr knew he had to remain as accommodating as possible.

With Hizdahr’s guidance, Viserys’s fleet was granted entry to the harbor, and the city guards lifted the alarm. Above them, the dragon that had been circling Meereen descended, landing on the towering statue of the Harpy, where the city’s defenders used to pour hot oil.

Its scales shimmered like jewels in the sunlight, attracting the awed gazes of those brave enough to peek at it.

Harrumph-harrumph.

Some of the soldiers who dared to look were quickly driven back, terror evident on their faces. In that moment, they understood why Valyria had ruled the world for five thousand years. The dragons were truly awesome, beyond legend.

As they disembarked, Hizdahr suggested resting after their long journey. But Viserys waved him off. "After nearly two months at sea, bring me your best swordsmen. I need to stretch my legs."