Several days later, the New Valyrian Empire's host arrived before Meereen. The walls bristled with defenders and fluttering banners, looking at first glance impregnable.
Viserys did not order an immediate assault.
Riding Ghidorah, he circled slowly above the city, surveying the last great slave metropolis from on high. He could feel the fear rising like a tide, and the hatred smouldering in some hearts. Beyond the walls, the common quarters lay deathly still.
"People of Meereen." Once more he used sorcery to carry his voice, offering terms. "I am Viserys Targaryen, Dragon-Queen of Valyria, breaker of chains. You have seen Astapor and Yunkai reborn, and the innocents slaughtered outside these walls. The Great Masters rule you through terror and blood, hoping to bar the gate to freedom."
He pointed beyond the walls, voice turning to steel. "Today I tell you—and those in the pyramids—that the hour has come. Blood must answer blood."
He patted Ghidorah's neck. The triple-headed leviathan roared, a sound that seemed to rip the soul, golden eyes fixing on the colossal bronze gate in Meereen's southern wall.
Ghidorah stooped into a dive—but not straight at the gate.
Using height and speed, she swept along the western wall, scattering archers. The left head loosed a torrent of azure frost; parapet, men and engines were flash-frozen beneath a crust of blue crystal.
An instant later the right head breathed searing Dragonflame across the opposite stretch, cruel ice and flame turning the battlements into a killing field.
As she passed above the gate, the central head gathered golden light in its throat. A familiar, annihilating ray lanced downward.
No boom—only a sickening hush, as though space itself were erased. Where the beam touched, stone and defenders vanished, leaving a smooth, vitrified scar.
Even as Ghidorah struck, Blackflame dropped from the clouds. The "working wyrm" now shuttled between posts—supervising Blackstone production, patrolling the Valyrian Peninsula, yet always ready to answer Viserys' call.
This time her task was clear: scour the walls of Scorpion Crossbow and pin the defenders with flame, clearing the way for the ground assault.
Under the double onslaught the wall-guards broke. slave soldiers threw down their spears and fled; hired cut-throats slew a few, but could not stem the rout.
Inside Meereen, near the Gathering Plaza, the slave-quarter burst into flame—no accident, but the signal for revolt.
Shouts and steel rang across the city. Part of the Stone Men mutinied; hidden slaves struck with stolen weapons, turning alleys into battlegrounds.
Days earlier, several merchant-leaning Great Masters—whose wealth rested on trade, not flesh—had secretly opened talks with Viserys. They would forfeit all to win safe passage out of Meereen.
Viserys agreed, and the conspirators smuggled arms into the slave pens and Harpy barracks, while mapping the city's soft spots for him.
When Ser Arthur led the New Valyrian vanguard through the gates, the struggle turned brutal.
Narrow streets became killing-grounds. private guards fought from rooftops; Mercenaries melted away rather than die for their paymasters.
Viserys guided Ghidorah in pinpoint strikes, silencing strongpoints and smashing mustering foes. Blackflame wheeled outside, hunting fugitives and answering every summons with ruin.
The war reached the Pyramid of Great Master Eraz. The last few hundred retainers barricaded themselves inside. Viserys had hoped to take the Pyramid intact—his future seat—but its stubborn garrison forced a costly storming of the gate.
Impatient, Viserys brought Ghidorah onto the summit, ignoring the bolts that clattered beneath. He offered terms, met only by defiant arrows. Very well—let this Pyramid become another Harrenhal, a monument to draconic wrath.
"Burn it." He gave the word to both dragons.
Twin jets of fire answered. He forbade the golden ray; flame left a more eloquent warning.
Ghidorah's white-hot breath turned stone to black glass that dripped like tallow. Blackflame's dull-red fire crawled into every seam, cracking blocks to charcoal.
The flames spiralled downward, devouring the Pyramid. It did not collapse; it melted—half vitrified horror, half scorched husk frozen in a tortured twist.
Every defender within perished in the inferno.
When the dragons departed, the blistered seal branded the heart of Meereen—a silent warning to all who beheld it.
After the conquest Viserys repeated—and refined—the measures used at Astapor and Yunkai, but with greater thoroughness. Great Masters whose hands were bloody faced public trial and were nailed along the coastal road as a warning.
He proclaimed the Basic Law of the Freemen, erasing every trace of slavery and founding rule upon the freed.
Astapor, Yunkai and Meereen, with their towns and villages, were formally united into the Free Bay Province of the New Valyrian Empire.
Ser Arthur Dayne was named first Lord Governor of the province, with ducal rank and hereditary tenure. The Kingsguard was abolished—its usefulness outweighed by its risks.
Ser Jonothor Darry, now elderly, became Commandant of the New Valyrian City garrison, granted comital rank.
Ser Willem Darry retained ducal style, though without lands for the moment; Viserys intends to bestow the Riverlands upon him. Meanwhile he serves as Lord Admiral, building the imperial fleet.
Ser Alliser Thorne was likewise created count, promised lands once the Free Cities are taken; for now he is Minister of Justice.
Other knights and notables received like rewards; most who gained fiefs did so within Arthur's province, charged to aid the Duke in governing.
Five thousand Unsullied now garrison Valyria itself. The peninsula had held only a thousand veterans and a few thousand raw Freemen; the re-emergence of Valyria drew every adventurer in Essos, impossible to restrain without stronger force.
Yet, for good or ill, a new empire—possessing dragons, seasoned legions and real dominion—has taken firm root upon the continent of Essos.
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