Thousands of arrows shot into the sky, pinging uselessly off the hard scales of the three dragons.
Drogon dove. Daenerys looked down at the dozen terrified Khals on the ground as they grew closer. She leaned forward and whispered one word: "Dracarys."
A dazzling light filled Drogon's mouth, followed by a roar. A torrent of scorching fire, smelling of sulfur, poured down. The 20-meter-long stream of dragonfire instantly devoured Jhaqo and the other Khals. They had just enough time for a single, terrified scream before they were turned into charred coke.
Viserion and Rhaegal followed their brother, breathing their own fire, cutting paths of destruction through the 100,000-man army. Men screamed as they were burned alive. Others, mad with fear, turned their horses and whipped them, desperately trying to escape the flying shadows.
But the horses were just as terrified. Intimidated by the dragons' presence, their legs buckled, sending thousands of Dothraki warriors tumbling to the ground.
Daenerys commanded her dragons, weaving them back and forth over the battlefield. The once-mighty Dothraki army dissolved into a panicked, burning, and screaming mob.
On the city wall, Ser Jorah, Daario, Grey Worm, and Ser Barristan watched in stunned silence. They had never imagined that three dragons could break an army of 100,000 so quickly and completely.
Jorah snapped out of his daze first. He excitedly drew his longsword and held it high. "Attack! Attack with all forces!"
With his spear in hand, Grey Worm led 20,000 Unsullied, forming up in perfect, disciplined ranks. The great gates of Meereen swung open, and they charged.
Behind them, Daario led the Second Sons, who shouted their battle cries as they followed the Unsullied into the chaos.
The sounds of battle rang out, but it was a slaughter, not a fight. The Dothraki, already broken and terrified by the dragons, couldn't mount any real defense. They just turned and fled.
Daenerys controlled the sky. Her dragons swooped down, burning the fleeing riders. Their deafening roars made the remaining horses collapse in terror.
After a few hours, the Dothraki who couldn't escape finally threw down their arakhs and surrendered.
Ser Jorah, Ser Barristan, and Grey Worm ordered their soldiers to round up the prisoners. The Dothraki, now without any Khals to lead them, were dejected. They followed orders like sheep, herded into temporary wooden fences outside the city.
Three days later, the battlefield was cleared of the dead. The tens of thousands of Dothraki prisoners were gathered in a massive, nervous crowd.
A wild roar filled the air. Drogon descended from the sky, his powerful hind legs slamming onto a high platform built for this purpose. The wind from his wings blasted the front rows of prisoners.
The sight of the nearly 30-meter-long dragon terrified them, and the crowd nearly rioted. The Unsullied and Second Sons shouted, beating their spears against their shields until order was restored.
Daenerys slid off Drogon's back. The dragon stood behind her like a monstrous black shadow, his long, snake-like neck extended, his burning eyes fixed on the Dothraki warriors.
"I am Daenerys Stormborn," she called out, her voice carrying over the crowd. "Heir to the Iron Throne, the Mother of Dragons, the Breaker of Chains, and Khaleesi to Khal Drogo, the mightiest Khal of the Great Grass Sea!"
She paused, letting them take in her titles.
"My husband, Khal Drogo, swore an oath to me! He swore he would cross the Narrow Sea and kill the men in their iron armor! He swore he would tear down their stone houses and take the Iron Throne for me!
"Now, I ask you to fulfill his oath! Follow me to Westeros! Kill the men in iron suits! Take their gold, and take all of Westeros for me!"
At first, there was only silence. Then, one warrior raised his arakh. "Kill the men in iron armor!" he shouted.
Another joined: "Take Westeros!"
Suddenly, the entire crowd of nearly 100,000 warriors erupted, raising their weapons and shouting a single word. "Khaleesi! Khaleesi! Khaleesi!"
Whether they were terrified by the dragon or truly inspired by her power, it didn't matter. They were hers.
With 100,000 new warriors, Daenerys's army was now over 150,000 strong. It was time.
She gathered every ship in Slaver's Bay—more than 1,800 vessels in total—and boarded her army. Without a moment's hesitation, Daenerys left Meereen behind. Her fleet was so large it covered the sea, a forest of sails moving west toward Westeros.
Far to the north, at the Great Wall, the decoy city was finally finished.
The four walls were ten meters high and four meters wide, forming a perfect square 2,000 meters in circumference. Built from tens of thousands of tons of reinforced concrete, it was now the strongest fortress in the world.
It wasn't a real city, of course. It was just four massive walls. But soon, the soldiers from Castle Black marched north of the Wall and into the new fortress, and the empty space inside quickly filled with their tents.
Supplies were hauled in. Barrels of gasoline were moved to the top of the walls, right next to dozens of newly built catapults. All preparations were complete. They were just waiting for the Night King.
Just as the anticipation in the castle was at its peak, a Night's Watch ranger arrived from Eastwatch-by-the-Sea. He brought shocking news.
"My lords, Stannis Baratheon has landed at the Great Wall. He's asking to meet with Lord Jason, the Earl of Starfire City."
The northern lords in the room were stunned.
"What is Stannis doing here?" one baron exclaimed.
Lord William Manderly shifted his large body, his face a mask of confusion. "He was beaten! The Lannisters and the Tyrells had him trapped at Storm's End. Why in the seven hells would he come all the way north?"
Jason, however, knew exactly why. It was Melisandre's suggestion, he was sure. But more than that, Stannis had lost too much. He knew he couldn't beat the Lannister-Tyrell alliance on his own. He needed new allies.
And the North was his last hope.
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