Viserys's blood was washed away by the next morning.
Daenerys sat on a divan on the terrace, cradling the hatchling named Night Fury in her arms.
The little one slept deeply. Its pitch-black scales gleamed with a warm luster in the morning light, while the blood-red streaks along its spine looked like fresh, unhealed scars. With every breath, its tiny chest rose and fell, two faint wisps of white smoke curling from its nostrils.
Daenerys stroked it gently, feeling the warmth and vitality radiating into her palm.
She knew this hatchling had been bought with her brother's life.
But there was no sorrow in her heart, only a settled calm, like dust after a storm.
The old Targaryen had died in Viserys's madness and stupidity.
And she, together with Lynn, would forge a new era.
"My Queen."
Missandei's voice came from behind. She carried a tray with sliced fruit and a bowl of warm goat's milk.
Daenerys came back to the present and smiled at her.
She had grown used to the title.
Ever since Lynn announced in the council chamber that she would handle Astapor's domestic affairs, everyone, including Jorah Mormont, had begun addressing her as Queen.
Everyone knew Lynn's ambition.
The title was only a matter of time.
She looked out the window.
The Plaza of Punishment, once a place of death, was now the busiest spot in the city.
Countless smiths sweated by the furnaces, forging new armor for the Unsullied.
On the streets, free folk lined up under the guidance of the Unsullied to receive food and clear the rubble left by the conflict.
Everything was orderly and full of vibrant life.
Grey Worm, the new Commander of the Unsullied, was doing better than anyone had imagined.
He was a man of few words, but he possessed a will of iron and astonishing executive ability.
Every order Lynn gave, he executed to the letter, often exceeding expectations.
He had divided the eight thousand Unsullied into several battalions. Some managed city defense and patrols, some maintained order, and a unit of the most loyal soldiers had been sent to the sugarcane plantations outside the city to expand sugar production.
Daenerys knew that behind all this lay Lynn's design.
Lynn had planned everything for this city.
She and Grey Worm only needed to complete his plan.
Just then, Jorah Mormont walked in hurriedly.
"My Queen."
He bowed to Daenerys first, then spoke with a grave expression.
"Magister Illyrio's fleet has set sail. They should arrive in about a month."
"Relations between Pentos and Meereen are now hostile."
"But for now, we won't have to worry about food."
Daenerys's heart skipped a beat.
She didn't need to worry about other matters.
But if the problem was solved, that meant...
She instinctively looked up toward the entrance of the hall.
Lynn walked out.
He had changed into a travel outfit. Black leather armor outlined his tall, straight figure. At his waist hung Longclaw with its wolf-head pommel, and the eerie Dark Sister.
Behind him followed two Unsullied.
One of them carried a wooden box wrapped in black cloth.
Daenerys's heart sank.
"So soon?" She stood up.
"Illyrio is a smart merchant. He knows time is money."
Lynn walked up to her, reaching out to tuck a strand of windblown silver hair behind her ear.
"I have to go, Dany."
Though she had expected it, hearing the words from Lynn's mouth made her eyes redden.
"Can't you... stay a few more days?"
She grabbed Lynn's sleeve, a plea in her voice.
"There are many things waiting for me in Westeros."
Lynn looked at her.
"And our sugar needs buyers as soon as possible."
"My Lord."
Jorah Mormont couldn't help but speak up, his face full of worry.
"Going back like this... is too dangerous."
"You are the King Beyond the Wall."
"You let hundreds of thousands of Wildlings south of the Wall. That alone makes every lord in the Seven Kingdoms see you as a thorn in their side."
"Furthermore..."
Jorah glanced at Daenerys, then at Longclaw on Lynn's hip, lowering his voice.
"You now possess Winter, the Unsullied Legions, and you've even married a Targaryen."
"Westeros may not know what happened here yet."
"But once word gets out, your position will be perilous!"
"Taking Viserys's head back might appease King Robert momentarily."
"But do you think he will allow a vassal whose achievements eclipse his master—and who holds power enough to overturn the kingdom—to live for long?"
Every word Jorah spoke struck Daenerys's heart.
She realized Lynn's situation was a hundred times more dangerous than she had imagined.
He was practically standing alone against the entire nobility of Westeros.
"Robert..."
A playful smile appeared on Lynn's face.
"I doubt he has time to worry about me right now."
"That old lion of House Lannister is giving him much more of a headache than this direwolf of the North."
"As for danger..."
Lynn's gaze swept over Jorah.
"Ser Jorah, what do you think is more dangerous: swords or gold?"
Jorah paused, confused.
"Swords can only kill enemies, but gold can turn enemies into friends."
Lynn patted his shoulder.
"I'm not just going back to see Robert."
"I'm going to do business."
"I want every dining table in the Seven Kingdoms to be filled with Astapori white sugar."
"I want noble ladies to fight over a small pouch of sugar. I want high lords to beg me for a monopoly on a trade route."
"When they can't live without my sugar, do you think they'll care if I'm the King Beyond the Wall?"
Jorah Mormont's mind reeled.
He looked at Lynn's calm face.
This man's weapon was never just the three-headed dragon.
His intellect was far more lethal than dragonfire.
"What about here..."
Daenerys looked at him with concern.
"Here, I leave to you."
Lynn turned, holding Daenerys by the shoulders and looking seriously into her eyes.
"You are my wife, and also the mistress of Astapor."
"Grey Worm will obey your commands. The eight thousand Unsullied are your sword."
"Ser Jorah will assist you, and Illyrio will be your most reliable ally."
Daenerys looked into Lynn's pitch-black eyes, seeing trust and expectation.
Strength surged from the bottom of her heart.
She nodded firmly, though tears betrayed her by falling.
"I will."
"I will guard our city until you return."
Lynn smiled.
He lowered his head and pressed a light kiss on her lips.
No lingering, just a promise.
"Grey Worm."
Lynn released Daenerys and turned to the silent commander.
"Here, my Lord."
"Protect her well."
"With my life," Grey Worm answered concisely and solemnly.
Lynn said no more.
He turned and strode toward the harbor.
He didn't look back.
Daenerys stood on the terrace, watching the black figure walk further and further away until he disappeared at the end of the city.
The sea breeze dried the tears on her face and blew away the last weakness in her heart.
---
Two weeks later.
Winter's massive wings sliced through the clouds above the vast expanse of the Narrow Sea.
Flying continuously for half a month was a huge drain, even for a dragon.
Winter's three heads looked listless, only perking up when diving to catch fish.
Finally, the familiar coastline of Westeros appeared on the horizon.
Lynn didn't fly directly to King's Landing.
The "King" in the Red Keep wouldn't welcome a dragon capable of freezing him and his castle into an ice sculpture.
He landed on an uninhabited island outside Blackwater Bay.
"Stay here. Wait for me."
"Hunt for food if you're hungry, but keep a low profile."
Lynn patted Winter's massive head.
Winter let out a low growl and nuzzled him.
Lynn changed into the garb of a common traveler, hitched a ride on a passing fishing boat, and slipped into King's Landing.
King's Landing was the same as ever.
The air still reeked of that complex mixture of piss, horse dung, and rotting fish.
The streets were crowded. Beggars and whores were everywhere.
Gold Cloaks patrolled the streets.
Nothing had changed since he left.
Lynn didn't go to the Red Keep, nor did he seek out Varys or Sansa.
He strolled through the city, passing the filthy, muddy alleys of Flea Bottom and the clanging smithies of the Street of Steel.
Finally, Lynn stopped in front of a bustling market.
His gaze was drawn to a figure.
It was a girl.
She wore a clean, dark blue dress embroidered with simple, elegant flowers at the hem.
Her long black hair wasn't a bird's nest anymore; it was tied back neatly with a silver ribbon, looking fresh and sharp.
She was standing in front of a stall selling Myrish lace.
Somewhat clumsily mimicking the noble ladies, she picked up a piece of lace and examined it against the sunlight.
The light filtered through the lace, falling on her face, which had lost its childish roundness and become more defined.
Her skin had the characteristic fairness of a Northerner.
Her grey eyes were still as alert and sharp as a wolf pup's, but there was a new softness of maidenhood at the corners of her eyes.
Arya Stark.
She had grown taller, and... prettier.
Lynn couldn't help but smile seeing her try so hard to act like a lady while looking completely uncomfortable.
He walked up silently behind her.
"Nice fabric."
A familiar voice sounded in her ear.
Arya stiffened instantly.
Her fingers tightened on the lace, and her other hand instinctively went to her waist.
That spot was empty.
She turned around slowly, inch by inch.
When she saw the familiar face behind her, those grey eyes, always wary as a wolf's, widened into circles.
She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
Shock, confusion, disbelief...
Countless emotions flashed across her small face.
Finally, all emotions converged into a hot torrent that surged to her eyes.
"You..."
She only managed one word before her voice cracked with tears.
A second later, she threw herself forward, crashing into Lynn's chest.
"Bastard!"
She buried her face in his chest, using all her strength to pound her fists against him, again and again.
The punches were harder than they looked.
"You finally decided to come back!"
"Do you have any idea... do you have any idea..."
Her words became incoherent, and tears she couldn't control soaked the front of Lynn's tunic.
Lynn didn't speak. He just let her vent.
He could feel how much longing and grievance were packed into every punch this little girl threw.
Passersby and vendors looked curiously at the strange couple, whispering among themselves.
Arya realized people were staring.
She jerked her head up from Lynn's chest, wiping her tears messily with her sleeve, trying to put her fierce face back on.
But her red-rimmed eyes and nose betrayed her completely.
Lynn finally laughed out loud seeing her try to act tough while looking so wronged.
He reached out and ruffled her hair, just like before.
"Alright, you've cried your makeup off."
Arya's face turned beet red instantly, flushing all the way to her ears.
"Who... who's wearing makeup!"
She retorted, stiffening her neck.
"And don't touch my hair!"
Though she said it, she didn't dodge.
Lynn withdrew his hand, his gaze falling on her new dress. He looked her up and down with feigned surprise.
"Tsk, tsk. Wonders never cease."
"Our little she-wolf of Winterfell knows how to wear a dress now?"
"Seems the food in King's Landing is good. It's raised you to have... well, a bit of feminine charm."
"What nonsense are you spouting!"
Arya was both shy and angry. She raised her foot to stomp on Lynn's, but he dodged easily.
Looking at his hateful smiling face, seeing the familiar warmth and doting in his eyes, the grievance she had just suppressed surged up again.
Her lip quivered, and her eyes reddened once more.
"Let's go."
Lynn took her wrist.
"Let's go back first."
"And while we're at it, let me see if your sword work has gotten rusty."