The transformation of Yunkai took three weeks.
I had learned from Astapor's example—brutality to establish dominance, followed by swift organization to maintain control. The former bed slaves proved surprisingly capable administrators once given proper training and authority. Many had been educated in languages and mathematics to better serve their masters' needs; now those same skills served the Dragon God's vision.
Thoros had done excellent work in Astapor. When I received his reports via raven, the city was already producing weapons, training new soldiers, and generating revenue through legitimate trade rather than human trafficking. The transformation was remarkable—what had once been a festering wound of slavery was becoming a functioning state.
Yunkai would follow the same pattern, but faster. I had experience now, and a proven system.
"The harbor fortifications are complete, Your Grace," reported Captain Daario Naharis, the former Second Sons lieutenant who had survived the battle and sworn himself to my service. The Tyroshi had proven both competent and ambitious—exactly the kind of man I needed for rapid expansion. "Twenty scorpions mounted on the walls, with sight lines covering the entire bay approach."
"Good. And the training yards?"
"Operational. We have five hundred former slaves learning spear work, another three hundred training with bows. They're... enthusiastic."
That was one way to put it. The freed slaves attacked their military training with religious fervor, seeing it as preparation for their god's holy war. Their skill would come with time, but their devotion was absolute.
"Rhaenys, what's the status of our intelligence network?"
My niece looked up from the reports she'd been reviewing. Over the weeks since Yunkai's fall, she'd proven invaluable as a coordinator and analyst. Her years of hiding had taught her to read people and situations with uncanny accuracy.
"Meereen is mobilizing," she said grimly. "They've recalled every Great Master from their country estates, emptied their treasuries to hire new sellsword companies, and sent envoys to every Free City begging for military aid."
"Are they getting it?"
"Some. Volantis is officially neutral, but several tiger party nobles have quietly funded mercenary bands. Lys has sent a fleet of twenty ships. Tyrosh is staying out of it entirely—they remember what happened to their city when they crossed a Targaryen."
I nodded, pleased. Fear was spreading ahead of my army, which would make future conquests easier. But Meereen would be different—they were the great city of Slaver's Bay, the heir to Old Ghis. They wouldn't fold as easily as their neighbors.
"How long until we march?"
"Three days," Boromir answered. He'd spent the weeks drilling our combined forces, melding Unsullied discipline with Gondorian tactics and the raw enthusiasm of the freed slaves. "The men are ready, Your Grace. More than ready—they're eager to finish what we started."
I stood and walked to the great window of the pyramid's audience chamber. Below, Yunkai bustled with new life. Former slaves worked alongside free citizens, rebuilding their city without the stain of bondage. Markets that had once sold human flesh now traded in goods and services. Children who had been born in chains now played freely in the streets.
It was beautiful, in its way. And it was mine.
"Then we march on Meereen," I decided. "It's time to complete the conquest of Slaver's Bay."
---
The Great Masters' champion was a mountain of a man.
He stood nearly seven feet tall, with shoulders like an ox and arms thick as tree trunks. Scars covered his bronze skin—the marks of countless battles in Meereen's fighting pits. A great two-handed sword rested across his back, its blade black as midnight and nearly as tall as a normal man.
"I am Strong Belwas!" he roared from the top of Meereen's walls, his voice echoing across the field between our armies. "Undefeated in the fighting pits! Slayer of a hundred men! I challenge the false god to single combat!"
The crowd of defenders cheered from their perch on the massive walls. Meereen was an ancient city, its defenses built to withstand siege engines and armies. The walls were thirty feet high and ten feet thick, studded with towers and lined with scorpions. Behind them, the Great Pyramid rose like a monument to Old Ghis, its bronze harpy gleaming in the morning sun.
But walls and pyramids meant nothing if the defenders lost their will to fight.
I rode forward on my black destrier, Blackfyre naked in my hand. The Valyrian steel blade seemed to drink in the sunlight, its rippled surface gleaming like water. Behind me, twelve thousand soldiers—Unsullied, Gondorians, and freed slaves—watched in perfect silence.
"I accept your challenge, Strong Belwas!" I called back, my enhanced voice carrying easily to the walls. "But know that when you fall, your city falls with you!"
The champion laughed—a booming sound that rolled across the battlefield. "Strong Belwas has never fallen! Today, the slave master's dog dies!"
He leaped from the wall with inhuman grace for a man his size, landing in a crouch that barely bent his massive frame. His great sword came off his back in a smooth draw, the black blade whistling through the air as he tested its weight.
I dismounted and walked forward to meet him, noting the way he moved. Big, yes, but not clumsy. Fast for his size, with the fluid motions of a trained fighter. In the show, he'd been formidable enough to give even seasoned warriors pause.
But he'd never faced a super soldier.
"You are smaller than I expected," Belwas said as we circled each other in the space between the armies. "The stories said the Dragon God was a giant among men."
"Size isn't everything," I replied, adjusting my grip on Blackfyre. "Ask the Wise Masters of Astapor and Yunkai."
His laugh died as he saw something in my eyes—a coldness that promised death. Without another word, he attacked.
The great sword came down in an overhead chop that would have split a horse in half. But I wasn't there when it fell—the Super Soldier Serum let me sidestep at the last instant, the blade missing me by inches and biting deep into the packed earth.
While he struggled to free his weapon, I struck.
Blackfyre's edge caught him just below the ribs, the Valyrian steel parting muscle and bone with surgical precision. He roared in pain and rage, abandoning his sword to grab at me with bare hands.
Those hands were like grappling hooks, capable of crushing steel. But enhanced reflexes kept me ahead of his desperate lunges, dancing around his massive frame like a matador avoiding a bull.
I opened a dozen wounds on him—cuts across his arms, slashes along his torso, a deep gash across his thigh that sent blood streaming down his leg. Each strike was precise, calculated to weaken without immediately killing.
I wanted the defenders to see their champion suffer.
"Is this the best Meereen can offer?" I taunted, opening another cut across his shoulder. "A pit fighter too slow to touch his opponent?"
Belwas snarled and made one final, desperate lunge. His massive hands closed around my torso, lifting me off the ground with bone-crushing force. In that moment, I could see the triumph in his eyes—he thought he had me.
He was wrong.
I drove Blackfyre's pommel into his temple with all the force my enhanced strength could muster. The impact cracked his skull like an eggshell, and his grip loosened instantly. As I dropped back to the ground, I reversed the blade and drove it up through his chin.
The Valyrian steel punched through bone and brain, emerging from the top of his skull in a spray of blood and gore. Strong Belwas, the undefeated champion of Meereen's fighting pits, died with a look of surprise on his ruined face.
But I wasn't finished.
I braced my foot against his chest and pulled Blackfyre free, then raised the bloody blade high above my head. With a roar that echoed off Meereen's walls, I brought it down in a diagonal slash that caught him at the neck.
The legendary sword, forged in the fires of Old Valyria and wielded by Aegon the Conqueror, parted flesh and bone like water. Strong Belwas's head separated from his shoulders and rolled across the blood-soaked ground.
The silence from the walls was deafening.
"BEHOLD!" I roared, holding up the severed head for all to see. "YOUR CHAMPION IS DEAD! YOUR WALLS CANNOT PROTECT YOU! SURRENDER NOW, OR SHARE HIS FATE!"
The answer came in the form of crossbow bolts raining down from the ramparts. I rolled aside, letting the missiles strike the earth where I'd been standing, then sprinted back toward my own lines.
"So be it," I called to Grey Worm as I reached safety. "Signal the attack."
---
The siege of Meereen was the bloodiest battle I'd fought since arriving in this world.
The Great Masters had learned from their neighbors' defeats. Where Astapor had been unprepared and Yunkai had relied on mercenaries, Meereen combined strong defenses with desperate determination. They knew what happened to slavers who fell into my hands—surrender meant death, so they might as well die fighting.
But desperation could only do so much against overwhelming force.
Aserion was the key, as always. My dragon had grown again during our march from Yunkai—he was now large enough to carry me into battle, with claws that could tear through stone and flame hot enough to melt bronze. When he dove at the walls, defenders scattered like leaves before a hurricane.
The great gates lasted exactly seven minutes against dragonfire. The bronze doors, three inches thick and reinforced with iron, melted like candle wax under Aserion's assault. The stone around them cracked and crumbled from the heat, creating a breach wide enough for my entire army.
But the Great Masters had prepared for this too. Behind the gates waited a killing field—narrow streets lined with archer positions, barricades manned by desperate soldiers, and traps designed to break up attacking formations.
It might have worked against a normal army.
My Unsullied advanced in perfect formation, their shields locked and their spears ready. Crossbow bolts sparked off bronze and leather as they pushed forward step by methodical step. Behind them came the Gondorians, their steel plate turning aside anything that penetrated the first line. And above them all, Aserion swept back and forth like a flying nightmare, burning out archer positions and shattering organized resistance.
The freed slaves fought with religious fervor, seeing each fallen defender as a victory for their god. They took terrible casualties—they lacked the training and equipment of professional soldiers—but they never wavered. For every one that fell, two more pressed forward, screaming prayers to the Dragon God.
The battle raged for six hours, block by bloody block, pyramid by pyramid. The Great Masters fought from the rooftops and from hidden cellars, from the sewers and from the great plaza itself. Some chose to burn their own pyramids rather than let them fall intact, preferring to die in flames than face my judgment.
I granted them that mercy.
By sunset, Meereen was mine. The bronze harpy lay in pieces at the base of the Great Pyramid, its wings torn off and its head crushed under the hooves of my cavalry. The last of the Great Masters had barricaded themselves in the pyramid's highest chamber, but there was no escape—Aserion's flames could reach anywhere in the city.
I climbed the pyramid's steps alone, Blackfyre dripping with the blood of a dozen slain defenders. Behind me, the city burned—not from mindless destruction, but from surgical strikes designed to break the will of any remaining resistance.
The great doors of the pyramid's apex were solid bronze, carved with scenes of Ghiscari glory. I didn't bother with keys or battering rams—I simply pressed my enhanced strength against the doors until the hinges gave way with a screech of tortured metal.
Inside, I found them. The last twelve Great Masters of Meereen, huddled around a table laden with gold and precious stones. They looked up as I entered, their faces a mixture of terror and defiance.
"Your Grace," one of them said—an old man with a white beard and the bearing of nobility. "We... we surrender. The city is yours. Surely there can be terms—"
"The only terms," I interrupted, "are the same I offered your champion. Death."
I walked to the great windows and threw them open. Far below, I could see my army spreading through the conquered city, my banners being raised over every pyramid and plaza.
"ASERION!" I called.
My dragon rose from the lower levels of the pyramid like a dark star, his wings spread wide and his maw already glowing with inner fire. He hovered outside the windows, his obsidian eyes fixed on the cowering Masters.
"Any last words?" I asked pleasantly.
Some of them tried to run. Others fell to their knees and begged. A few maintained their dignity to the end, meeting their fate with silent pride.
It didn't matter. They all burned the same.
When it was over, nothing remained of the Great Masters of Meereen but ash and bones. Their gold and treasures would fund my war machine. Their city would serve as the crown jewel of my new nation.
And as I stood in the highest chamber of the Great Pyramid, looking out over my conquered domain, the system finally spoke:
**[HIDDEN QUEST COMPLETED: CONQUEROR OF SLAVER'S BAY]**
**[Objective: Conquer all three major slave cities of Slaver's Bay - COMPLETE]**
**[Reward: Advanced Command Protocols, Fleet Admiral's Insight, Master Strategist Enhancement]**
**[Additional Reward: System Evolution - Political Management Unlocked]**
The knowledge flooded into my mind like a breaking dam. Military tactics I'd never studied, naval strategies from a dozen different worlds, political theories that would have taken a lifetime to master. I understood now not just how to conquer, but how to rule—how to transform conquered territories into functioning states that served my greater vision.
It was exactly what I needed.
---
The great plaza of Meereen had been transformed for the occasion. Where once slaves had been sold and gladiators had fought to the death, now stood a platform draped with the banners of a new nation. The three-headed dragon of House Targaryen flew alongside the golden tree of Gondor and the broken chains of liberation.
Every freed slave in the city was there—more than fifty thousand people pressed into the plaza and the surrounding streets. They stood in perfect silence, their faces turned upward toward the platform where I waited. Above them, Aserion perched on the Great Pyramid like a living symbol of divine power.
I had chosen my words carefully for this moment. This wasn't just about conquest or liberation—this was about creating something new, something that would outlast battles and bloodshed.
"PEOPLE OF SLAVER'S BAY!" I began, my enhanced voice carrying to every corner of the plaza. "You have been slaves! Born in chains, raised in chains, sold like cattle in the markets of the world! But I tell you now—NO MORE!"
The crowd stirred, the familiar words kindling hope in thousands of eyes.
"Three cities have fallen to the Dragon God's fire! Astapor, Yunkai, and now Meereen—all have felt the weight of divine justice! The masters who bought and sold your flesh are DEAD! Their gold cannot save them! Their walls cannot protect them! They have been judged and found wanting!"
Cheers began to rise from the crowd, but I raised my hand for silence. I wasn't finished.
"You are FREE!" I declared, spreading my arms wide. "Free to speak, free to love, free to build lives of your own choosing! But freedom without purpose is chaos! Freedom without guidance is anarchy! That is why your god has not come merely to break your chains—I have come to forge a NATION!"
The cheers grew louder, more desperate. I could see tears streaming down faces, could hear individual voices breaking through the chorus of worship.
"Behold—the Bay of Dragons! No longer will these cities serve the greed of masters! No longer will they profit from human misery! The United Cities of Dragons Bay shall stand as a beacon of freedom, a testament to what mortals can achieve when they serve divine will!"
I pointed to the banners flying from every pyramid and tower. "One nation, forged from three cities! One people, united by the fire that burned away your chains! One purpose—to carry the message of liberation to every corner of the world!"
The crowd was in full fervor now, pressing forward despite the ring of Unsullied that held them back. But I had more to give them.
"This is not just your liberation," I continued, my voice rising to a roar that seemed to shake the very stones. "This is your ASCENSION! You who were once bought and sold like beasts shall become the instruments of justice! You who were once property shall become the army of the righteous! You who were once nothing shall become EVERYTHING!"
I drew Blackfyre and held it high, the Valyrian steel catching the sunlight like captured fire. "I am Viserys Targaryen, the Dragon God, the Fire Made Flesh! I am your liberator, your protector, your eternal sovereign! And I swear to you by the flames that burn in my dragon's heart—never again will chains bind your children! Never again will masters claim your bodies! Never again will you bow to any but your GOD!"
The explosion of sound was deafening. Fifty thousand voices rose in a roar that seemed to shake the heavens themselves. They were crying, laughing, screaming prayers of gratitude and devotion. Some threw themselves to the ground in worship, others raised their hands toward the sky as if trying to touch divinity itself.
"DRAGON GOD! DRAGON GOD! DRAGON GOD!"
The chant echoed off the pyramid walls, growing stronger with each repetition. And beneath it, like a drumbeat of revolution, came the words that had become their battle cry:
"BLOOD AND FIRE! BLOOD AND FIRE! BLOOD AND FIRE!"
I stood above them all, Blackfyre raised toward the heavens, and felt the intoxicating rush of absolute power. This was what I lived for—not just conquest, but transformation. Not just victory, but the creation of something that would outlast my own mortal flesh.
I was their god. And they were the instruments of my will.
---
The war council convened in the Great Pyramid's highest chamber as the last echoes of celebration faded from the city below. Maps covered every surface, marked with troop positions, supply lines, and strategic assessments. Chests of gold and precious stones lined the walls—the accumulated wealth of three conquered cities, now mine to command.
My advisors sat around the great table that had once hosted the Great Masters' deliberations. Rhaenys had cleaned the blood from her armor but still wore her sword, violet eyes sharp as she studied reports from across the known world. Boromir looked every inch the supreme commander in his gleaming plate, while Grey Worm's bronze cap caught the torchlight as he reviewed troop dispositions. Missandei sat quietly at the table's end, her quick mind already calculating the administrative challenges of governing three cities as one nation.
"The United Cities of Dragons Bay," I began, spreading my hands over the maps. "That's what we're building here. Not just conquered territories, but a functioning nation that can support our greater goals."
I pointed to each city in turn. "Astapor remains our primary military production center. The forges are running day and night, producing weapons and armor for our expanding forces. Yunkai handles our naval operations—shipbuilding, training, and logistics. And Meereen..." I smiled, looking around the chamber that had once been the seat of slaver power. "Meereen becomes our capital. The political and administrative heart of our new nation."
"A central government," Rhaenys said, understanding immediately. "With the local administrators reporting up to a single authority."
"Exactly. And that authority reports to me." I leaned back in the chair that had once belonged to the Great Masters. "I won't be here to micromanage every decision—I have larger goals to pursue. So we need a structure that can function in my absence while remaining absolutely loyal to my vision."
"The Premier system," Missandei suggested. "A single executive authority appointed by the Dragon God, responsible for day-to-day governance while you handle strategic concerns."
I nodded approvingly. Her administrative mind was already grasping the possibilities. "The Premier will have full authority to make policy decisions within the framework I establish. Local governors in each city, reporting to the Premier. Military commanders, trade officials, religious leaders—all part of a unified hierarchy."
"And the military structure?" Boromir asked.
This was the crucial question. I had nearly fifteen thousand professional soldiers now, plus countless freed slaves training to join them. But scattered across three cities, they were just garrison forces. United under a single command, they could become something far more powerful.
"That's where you come in," I said, turning to face my most trusted commander. "Boromir, I'm naming you Supreme Commander of the United Forces of the Dragon God. Every soldier in Dragons Bay answers to you—Unsullied, Gondorians, freed slaves, whatever new recruits we train. Your job is to forge them into a single, unified war machine."
The Gondorian captain straightened, understanding the magnitude of what I was offering. "Your Grace, I'm honored. But such a position requires—"
"A second-in-command who understands the realities of Essos," I finished. "Which is why Grey Worm will serve as your right hand. He knows the Unsullied better than anyone, and he's proven his tactical abilities in every battle we've fought."
Grey Worm inclined his head slightly. "I will serve as the Supreme Commander requires."
"The integration will take time," I continued, "but the goal is clear. By the time we sail for Volantis, I want every soldier in Dragons Bay thinking of themselves not as Astapori or Yunkish or Meereenese, but as citizens of our new nation. Unified training, unified equipment, unified purpose."
"Speaking of sailing," Rhaenys interjected, "what's our timeline? How long before we move on Volantis?"
I considered the question carefully. There were multiple factors to balance—military readiness, political stability, intelligence from the wider world, and my own burning desire to see Daenerys again.
"Six months," I decided. "That gives us time to establish proper governmental structures, train our expanded forces, and build the fleet we'll need for a major naval operation. Volantis won't fall as easily as the slaver cities—it's the oldest and most powerful of the Free Cities, with armies that have never known defeat and walls that have stood for thousands of years."
"But they've also never faced dragons," Boromir pointed out.
True enough. But Volantis also had Daenerys—and her two dragons.
The Red Priests, who saw me as their god, would rather die in the most painful way imaginable than let any harm come to my sister. And by the time I returned, Jorah had likely already made it back to Volantis from the mission I'd sent him on.
So, I believed my sister would be safe during my absence. This was only supposed to be a three-month round trip, but it had already been four months since I first arrived in Astapor. By the time I saw her again, nearly a year would have passed.
Of course, I worried about her—like any man who loves a woman would. But she had two dragons, and they would listen to her. If they were growing anything like my own dragon, they'd be capable of burning Volantis to the ground if anyone tried anything.
"The infrastructure is already in place," I continued, pulling up detailed maps of our three cities. "We have the shipyards to build a proper invasion fleet, the forges to equip it, and the manpower to crew it. What we need now is organization and time."
I stood and walked to the great windows, looking out over Meereen's pyramid-studded skyline. Fires burned throughout the city—not the fires of destruction, but the controlled flames of industry. Forges working through the night, shipyards echoing with the sound of hammers, training yards where former slaves learned to be soldiers.
"The United Cities of Dragons Bay will be more than just a stepping stone to greater conquest," I said finally. "It will be the foundation of a new kind of empire. One built not on slavery and exploitation, but on loyalty and shared purpose. And when we sail from here to claim the Iron Throne, we'll carry with us not just armies and gold, but the living proof that a better world is possible under my rule."
The silence stretched for several moments as my advisors absorbed the scope of what I was proposing. Finally, Rhaenys spoke:
"And what of the slaves in other cities? Lys, Myr, Tyrosh—they'll have heard what happened here. Some will be inspired, others terrified. How do we handle the political implications?"
"Carefully," I admitted. "We're not ready for a war against all the Free Cities simultaneously. But we don't need to be. Fear is a weapon too, and word of our victories will spread faster than any army. Some cities will negotiate rather than fight. Others will try to appease us with concessions. And a few..." I smiled coldly. "A few will make the same mistake as the slavers here."
I turned back to the table, placing my hands flat on its surface. "Six months, my friends. Six months to build something that will outlast us all. Six months to forge the United Cities of Dragons Bay into a power that can reshape the world. And then..."
I looked at each of them in turn—Rhaenys with her thirst for revenge, Boromir with his military genius, Grey Worm with his unshakeable loyalty, Missandei with her brilliant administrative mind.
"Then we sail home. To Volantis first, to reunite the three heads of the dragon. And after that..."
I picked up the crown of Meereen's last Great Master—a circlet of gold and bronze that had adorned the heads of slavers for generations—and placed it on the table between us.
"After that, we take what's ours. By fire and blood, as our house words demand. The Iron Throne awaits, and with it, the Seven Kingdoms themselves."
The crown caught the torchlight, its surface reflecting the flames that would soon consume every throne room in Westeros. The dragon had three heads, and soon all three would be united under my banner.
Fire and blood were coming to the world. And I would be the one to bring them.