Game of Thrones: Rise of the Supreme Dragon Queen

"Ah, Your Majesty, so you're aware of the traditions of my homeland!" Jordan Snow didn't feel embarrassed after Daenerys guessed he was a bastard. Smiling, he said, "I am a Snow of the North. Westeros has three major ports: the largest and busiest is the capital, King's Landing; the second is Oldtown in the south; and the third is White Harbor in the North.

In fact, I serve Earl Manderly of White Harbor. The Maiden of Silver Leaves has a 30% stake owned by the Earl himself."

"Are you the bastard of that fat eel?" Ser Barristan exclaimed in surprise.

(Eel: A nickname for Earl Manderly of White Harbor, known for his corpulent figure.)

Jordan Snow blushed, his horse-like face reddening. "I'm not fortunate enough to be the Earl's bastard."

"When will you return?" Daenerys, sensing his discomfort, changed the topic.

"Probably in two months," Jordan replied thoughtfully. "This time, I'm out mainly to purchase spices from the East. Spices here in Qarth are a bit expensive, so I might head to Yi Ti for a better deal."

"Do you know that Eddard Stark has been imprisoned by Joffrey and that Robb Stark is leading an army south?" she asked.

"Really?" Jordan was shocked, exclaiming, "When I left White Harbor, it was more than a year ago. I've been trading goods along the way in Lys, Volantis, and Meereen, which took quite some time. What about King Robert? He and Lord Stark grew up as close friends."

"The Usurper," Jorah corrected coldly, "is dead. Cersei had him killed."

"Why?" Jordan asked, confused.

"Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen are actually the bastards of Cersei and Jaime. Eddard Stark discovered the truth," Jorah explained, though even he wasn't entirely sure if the rumor was true.

"Jordan Snow," Daenerys said thoughtfully. Deciding to feign prophetic insight, she added, "Do you know I've been to the House of the Undying?"

"I heard your dragons burned the Undying Ones alive," Jordan replied, his eyes flickering.

"That's not the point." Daenerys waved her hand dismissively, leaned forward slightly, and lowered her voice. "I saw a prophecy there. It concerns Robb Stark."

"Uh…" Jordan's horse-like face froze in bewilderment, his expression screaming, What are you talking about?

"You really saw a prophecy about Robb Stark? What happened to him?" Jorah asked urgently.

Ever since Daenerys had vividly described Rhaegar's appearance, Jorah had become cautiously skeptical of her supposed visions.

Seeing Ser Barristan also listening attentively, Daenerys lowered her voice further and said solemnly, "He was beheaded, and a gray wolf's head was sewn onto his neck."

"Ah—!" Jorah gasped in horror. "Who killed him? What about the rest of his bannermen who went south with him?"

"In a large wooden hall, corpses littered the floor. It seemed they were attending a banquet, but then enemies suddenly ambushed them… No, wait," Daenerys recalled the vision carefully. "They didn't seem to be on guard against any danger. Robb was sitting at the table, holding a leg of lamb."

"Impossible!" Jorah, Jordan, and Ser Barristan exclaimed in unison.

From Daenerys's description, they immediately understood what had likely happened: someone had violated the sacred guest right by murdering their guests during a feast.

Daenerys shrugged. "I'm not lying. In fact, even I'm puzzled as to why I saw a prophecy about the Stark boy."

Ser Barristan, sensing a flaw, asked, "Since it was a wolf's head, how can you be sure it was him? You haven't even met Robb Stark in person."

Rolling her eyes, Daenerys snapped, "I don't need to have met him to recognize the sigils of the Seven Great Houses, do I? Targaryen's black dragon on red, the Usurper's crowned stag, the Hightower's rose, Dorne's spear sun, Tully's trout, and Greyjoy's nine-headed snake—"

"It's a kraken!" Ser Barristan corrected.

Daenerys waved dismissively, a lonely expression on her face. "You don't get it. It's a nine-headed snake."

Barristan gave up arguing. You're the princess. If you say it's a nine-headed snake, it's a nine-headed snake.

"And the Lannisters' lion, the Arryns' blue falcon, and the Starks' gray direwolf. Is that clear?" Seeing them nod slightly, Daenerys sighed. "There was a direwolf banner so large it was impossible to miss."

"Perhaps it was Eddard Stark," Ser Barristan suggested.

"It was a young man, and he was wearing a crown," Daenerys clarified.

"Do you know who killed them?" Jordan Snow asked nervously.

Daenerys shrugged again. "I don't know. The wolf's head was alive, staring at me with eyes full of sorrow and accusation. I was so frightened that I ran away immediately."

"If this truly happened—if a king were killed in his host's home—it would be an unspeakable act of moral corruption. Such wickedness could only be rectified by you, Your Grace. It's a sign the people of the Seven Kingdoms are yearning for your return!" Ser Barristan declared passionately.

Old man, you think too much… and too beautifully!

"He was already wearing a crown. Do you still expect a queen to avenge him?" Jorah retorted.

Wearing a crown signified that Robb had already declared himself king.

"Here's what I'll do," Daenerys said. "I'll have Black Diamond paint the scene I saw. He witnessed it with me. You can take it to the young Stark."

Eddard Stark may have been gravely sinful, conspiring with the Usurper to overthrow his king, but the sacred right of guest protection is inviolable—even if Robb Stark is my enemy."

Daenerys spoke with righteous conviction, her tone fervent and impassioned. Ser Barristan felt deeply moved: at last, he had found a wise, just, compassionate, and selfless monarch! He was tempted to immediately reveal his true identity to Her Majesty.

Then, under the wide-eyed astonishment of Davos, Ser Barristan, Blackbeard, and Jordan Snow, the black dragon dipped its massive claws in ink and began sketching. Swiftly and skillfully, it created a haunting depiction of a macabre "Feast of Death."

"This... this is..." Jorah stared at the eerie scene in the drawing, racking his brain. "I've definitely been to this place! This wooden hall—it feels so familiar, but I can't quite recall."

"The Twins! Frey!" Ser Barristan's eyes sharpened like blades as he spoke each word deliberately. "The Late Frey—that's the guest hall of House Frey at the Crossing!"

"Yes, yes, that's it!" Jorah exclaimed as realization struck him. "A long hall, with balconies on either side for musicians and performers… Seven hells!" He suddenly slapped his forehead, nearly wailing. "They're doomed! Meg and the others are doomed. The balconies are perfect for hidden archers.

"I've said it before: Robb Stark is too young, too inexperienced. He's no match for the cunning lords of the south, like Tywin. He was bound to get everyone killed."

Davos, who had been silent until now, shrugged nonchalantly. "It's certainly fascinating that a dragon can draw, but whether this is prophecy or illusion, who can say? There's no need to get so worked up."

"You don't understand," Ser Barristan retorted. "Princess Daenerys and Black Diamond have never been to Westeros, nor have they ever seen Robb Stark. But that bridge between the Freys' Twin Towers—it's unmistakable, even I had almost forgotten it."

Jorah shook his head repeatedly, his face heavy with sorrow. Among the corpses strewn across the floor in the drawing, he knew there would be those of his kin—his aunt, his cousins. Who was even left on Bear Island now?

"Inform the Stark family immediately," Ser Barristan urged Jordan Snow. "The Starks can be judged, but they must not be slaughtered like this."

"I will see to it without delay," Jordan promised solemnly.

Once Jordan left with the drawing, titled The Last Supper of the Young Wolf, Jorah hesitated before asking, "Your Grace, did you see any other prophecies?"

"So many," Daenerys replied, "and all in fragments: the child of three, the bride of fire, the killer of lies, and… Bronn fluttering on a banner—"

"Bronn?" Jorah looked puzzled.

"Don't ask me; I don't know what it means either," Daenerys said with a shrug. "I also saw the Iron Throne and my father, Aerys, speaking with his Hand."

After a moment of silence, she sighed. "He deserved to die."

"Who?"

"My father."

"What?!" Everyone was stunned, unable to comprehend her seemingly treasonous statement.

Narrowing her eyes, Daenerys fixed her gaze on Ser Barristan. "I know you're privy to many royal secrets. Tell me—did you know my father planned to burn King's Landing with wildfire?"

"Impossible!" Ser Barristan blurted out, his voice urgent. "He was the king! King's Landing was his capital, its people his subjects. Why would he destroy it?"

"It's possible," Jorah muttered, lowering his eyes. "If King's Landing was about to fall into someone else's hands..."

"Even if he had such intentions, he didn't have the chance to carry them out," Ser Barristan said hesitantly.

"Perhaps," Daenerys nodded. "I also saw countless people calling me 'Mhysa.'"

"Uh..." Everyone stood there, dumbfounded.

"Never mind," she said, waving it off. "The Undying Ones were indeed burned by my dragons. They intended to drain my life and bloodline, and the prophecies they showed me were merely part of their magic—a price to pay, or some sort of exchange." She shrugged, uncertain whether her thoughts were correct.

Later, during lunch, an assassination attempt was made on Daenerys.

Well, it didn't succeed.

It happened just as she was hosting a Braavosi captain for a meal. After lunch, a sailor came to report: Xaro Xhoan Daxos had sent her a gift.

Daenerys, puzzled, immediately ordered the messenger to be brought in.

The man turned out to be a middle-aged Qartheen dressed in luxurious attire, neat and courteous, with a composed demeanor.

"I am the eighth steward under Lord Xaro," he introduced himself. "You're more familiar with Hashin, the first steward, who manages Lord Xaro's residence in Qarth. I, however, oversee the warehouses at the docks."

Daenerys nodded, recalling how Xaro had once boasted to her: 'The quality and number of my servants rival any king in the world. I have 30 stewards alone. Marry me, my Star of Paradise, and I'll ensure you live like a queen.'

What a revolting wretch! Daenerys frowned in distaste. "I've already left Qarth. Why has Lord Xaro suddenly sent me a gift?"

The eighth steward offered a smile tinged with unease. "You gifted Lord Xaro a splendid golden cloak today. He, in turn, has learned of your love for Eastern jade and instructed me to present you with a rare piece from his collection."

With that, he revealed an exquisitely crafted wooden box. The emerald-green lid was adorned with jade and chalcedony, while the purplewood casing gleamed with gold trim.

"Crunch!"

The black dragon abruptly dropped the scorched bone it had been gnawing on, craned its neck forward, and fixed its unblinking eyes on the box.

(End of Chapter)

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