In the inn, Jorah Mormont paced back and forth, his anxiety growing with every step.
"Why hasn't Her Grace returned yet?"
Across the room, Ser Barristan Selmy sat quietly, polishing his sword with an oiled cloth, paying no heed to Jorah's question.
"Aren't you worried at all?" Jorah pressed again.
"Worried about what?"
"Her Grace's safety."
"She only went to purchase the Unsullied. What danger could there be?" Barristan cast a sidelong glance at Jorah. "Or is it not her safety you're worried about?"
Jorah stopped pacing and turned to face Barristan.
"Fine. Yes, I'm worried about Caesar. Don't you fear he's manipulating the queen?"
"At least Caesar carries Targaryen blood. Yes, it's a distant, Blackfyre branch, but he and Her Grace share the same goal and a common enemy. Until the Iron Throne is reclaimed, there's nothing to worry about."
"And after that? Who takes the throne?"
"That's not our concern," Barristan replied calmly. "We are Her Grace's sworn swords. Our duty is to protect, not to dictate what she should do."
"And when Aerys II went mad and made all those insane decisions, the Kingsguard just stood by and watched! That's why the Targaryen dynasty was overthrown!"
At this, Barristan's expression turned icy. His voice was sharp.
"Jorah Mormont, don't think for a moment I don't see what you're after. Has the lesson from Lynesse Hightower taught you nothing? Don't covet what isn't yours."
Jorah's face darkened instantly.
Lynesse Hightower had been his wife—a woman of high birth who should never have married a minor lord from the remote and impoverished Bear Island.
At a tournament in Lannisport, Jorah had asked for her favor, and his miraculous victories made him the champion. He crowned Lynesse as the Queen of Love and Beauty and won her heart.
But married life had proven disastrous. Spoiled and accustomed to luxury, Lynesse could not endure the harsh conditions of Bear Island. To please her, Jorah squandered his wealth and even resorted to illegal slave trading.
When Lord Eddard Stark learned of Jorah's crimes, he sentenced him to death. Jorah fled across the Narrow Sea, eventually becoming a sellsword in Essos. Not long after, Lynesse abandoned him for a prince of Lys.
Heartbroken and exiled, Jorah wandered the Free Cities until he met Daenerys and Viserys Targaryen.
Barristan's voice softened, though his tone remained firm.
"Only a true dragon can wed a true dragon, Jorah. Remember your place and what you've done."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Jorah demanded, though guilt flickered in his eyes.
"You sought a royal pardon by serving Varys, didn't you? Don't think I don't know. Just because I've held my tongue doesn't mean I'm blind."
Jorah froze as if struck. For a moment, he stammered,
"I… I had no choice back then… but I've sworn loyalty to Her Grace now. I'd give my life for her!"
"Loyalty is proven through actions," Barristan said. "Stay in your place, and I won't expose you to the queen. But stop antagonizing Caesar. Trust me, he's far more dangerous than you think. Petyr Baelish, Olenna Redwyne, and Doran Martell all fell to him. Three years ago, he was nothing more than a landless hedge knight. Now he's the Storm King. If you keep provoking him, you'll meet a worse end."
Jorah countered, "If Caesar is so dangerous, shouldn't we persuade Her Grace to stay away from him?"
"No. She needs his help to defeat the usurpers."
"And afterward? Do you really think Caesar will hand over the Iron Throne to her?"
Barristan stood, his sword gleaming coldly in the sunlight.
"Then it will be our moment to prove our loyalty."
Jorah sensed the unshakable resolve in the older knight. He took a deep breath and calmed himself.
After a pause, he asked,
"What if Her Grace chooses to yield the Iron Throne to Caesar?"
"She won't," Barristan said, sliding his sword back into its scabbard. "You've been with her long enough to know—our queen is a dragon, not a docile lamb."
Jorah nodded slowly.
"You're right. She's a true dragon. She wouldn't yield…"
Knock! Knock! Knock!
The urgent pounding on the door interrupted their conversation.
Jorah opened it to find Katu Hightooth standing outside.
"There's been a riot in Astapor," Katu said flatly.
"What?" Jorah's face darkened. "What's going on? Where's Her Grace?"
"It's likely a slave revolt," Katu replied calmly. "Caesar foresaw this and told me not to panic."
"Caesar foresaw it? He caused it, didn't he!" Jorah shoved past Katu and bolted down the hallway.
Barristan followed without hesitation.
Behind them, Katu smirked faintly, shaking his head with mild disdain.
As Jorah and Barristan rushed out of the inn, chaos engulfed the streets.
People ran screaming in every direction, their voices filled with terror:
"Dragons! The dragons are here!"
Jorah spotted an Astapori noble, his hair styled like devilish horns, fleeing through the crowd. Before he could escape, a group of Unsullied caught up to him, impaling him with spears and hacking him to pieces.
The Unsullied, however, ignored the fleeing commoners.
But with the nobles dead, Astapor fell into anarchy. Fear and disorder spread like wildfire, giving opportunistic looters and rioters their chance.
Looting, arson, and slaughter erupted across the city, transforming it into a battlefield.
Jorah and Barristan pushed through the chaos, heading toward the Plaza of Pride. They knew that was where the transaction had taken place, and something must have gone wrong.
Considering Katu's nonchalant attitude, Jorah was certain Caesar had orchestrated this.
An armed rioter lunged at Jorah with a curved blade. Jorah sidestepped the attack and thrust his sword into the man's stomach.
"Caesar is the source of all this chaos!" Jorah growled as he withdrew his blade.
Barristan said nothing, focusing on cutting a path through the crowd.
Astapor, known as the Red Brick City, now earned its name more than ever, as its streets ran red with blood.
As they neared the plaza, the chaos subsided somewhat.
Groups of Unsullied patrolled the streets, systematically targeting Astapori nobles and their guards while leaving the commoners and slaves unharmed.
Jorah's confusion grew until a deafening dragon's roar pierced the air.
He looked up to see Caesar's massive white dragon circling overhead.
On its back were a man and a woman, locked in an embrace, shouting triumphantly to the heavens.
(End of Chapter)