Chapter 215: Startling News
Daenerys had originally intended to grant Daario the title of Supreme Commander and appoint him governor of Yunkai in Slaver's Bay.
To everyone's surprise, he refused.
He had no desire to return to Slaver's Bay.
Instead, he requested permission to serve as a member of the Kingsguard, wearing the white cloak and remaining at Daenerys's side as her sworn protector.
The announcement stunned the entire hall.
Even Drogon couldn't help but admire Daario's legendary devotion.
The man truly was hopelessly in love.
The redistribution of titles and lands caused surprisingly few changes to the balance of power throughout the Seven Kingdoms.
Afterward, Daenerys instructed Missandei to announce the members of her Small Council.
Hand of the Queen: Tyrion Lannister
Lord Commander of the Kingsguard: Barristan Selmy
Master of Whisperers: Varys
Master of Laws: Grey Worm
Master of Ships: Yara Greyjoy
Master of Coin: Mace Tyrell
Grand Maester: Marwyn
Royal Advisor: Missandei
Meanwhile, Hizdahr stepped down from the position of Master of Coin and became Deputy Master of Coin, responsible solely for the finances of Slaver's Bay.
As for Marwyn, after informing the Citadel that Daenerys had appointed him Grand Maester, he received a response only three days later.
Left with little choice, the Citadel reluctantly accepted the Queen's demand.
Once the Small Council had been finalized, Daenerys announced another major reform.
The City Watch's famed Gold Cloaks would be dissolved.
Jorah Mormont was appointed Commander of King's Landing's new garrison and simultaneously named Deputy Master of Laws.
After revealing a series of sweeping decisions, Daenerys looked out over the assembled nobles.
Then she delivered a declaration that shook the hall.
"I hereby announce that in three days, our armies will march against the Nine Free Cities."
The chamber exploded with shock.
Everyone already knew that Cersei had once allied herself with the Free Cities.
Retaliation had always seemed inevitable.
Still, no one expected Daenerys to move so quickly.
Westeros had only just been unified.
The realm remained unstable.
Every kingdom had suffered losses from the wars against the dead and against Cersei.
Many believed years of recovery would be necessary before launching another major campaign.
Yet the moment those doubts arose, many eyes drifted toward Drogon perched upon Daenerys's shoulder.
And suddenly, those concerns no longer seemed important.
With Drogon—the Dragon God—and his two siblings supporting them, who would dare rebel?
If Daenerys conquered the Nine Free Cities and combined them with Slaver's Bay, New Ghis, Old Ghis, and the vast territories loyal to the Dothraki...
The lands under her rule would surpass even the ancient holdings of the Valyrian Freehold.
A truly unprecedented empire would be born.
More than half an hour later, the coronation festivities came to an end.
Most guests gradually departed.
Only the great lords of the Seven Kingdoms and Daenerys's closest advisors remained behind.
Turning toward Olenna Tyrell and her son, the newly appointed Master of Coin Mace Tyrell, Daenerys said,
"I intend to expand the Kingsroad. House Tyrell will have to bear a considerable portion of the expense."
The moment Mace had been named Master of Coin, Olenna had already guessed Daenerys's intentions.
What she had not expected was the scale of the project.
Expanding the Kingsroad would require an enormous fortune.
By the time it was finished, House Tyrell's wealth might very well be cut in half.
Yet Olenna showed little concern.
No matter the cost, Highgarden had survived.
That alone was worth celebrating.
Besides, she had every intention of ensuring her son made full use of his new position.
Several capable members of House Tyrell could be assigned to assist Mace.
Not only would they gain valuable experience managing the kingdom's finances, but they could also ensure that some of the wealth flowing through the project ultimately returned to Highgarden.
After all, if the realm was going to spend a fortune rebuilding Westeros, House Tyrell might as well help manage the purse strings.
The expansion of the Kingsroad had actually been Drogon's idea.
As someone who carried the soul of a modern man, he understood better than anyone how vital transportation was to the development of a nation.
The Kingsroad stretched from Storm's End in the south all the way to the Wall in the far north, connecting nearly the entire continent of Westeros.
Despite being called a "great road," however, it was surprisingly narrow.
At its widest, only three wagons could travel side by side.
At its narrowest, a single wagon completely blocked passage.
Calling it a grand highway was generous—it was little more than an oversized country road.
Drogon rarely used roads himself, preferring to fly wherever he pleased, but every time he saw the Kingsroad, it offended his modern sensibilities.
If Westeros was going to become the heart of a great empire, its infrastructure needed to improve.
The Kingsroad was only the beginning.
King's Landing's sewer system was also scheduled for a complete overhaul.
Daenerys was determined to rid the city of its infamous reputation as the "capital of filth."
After finishing her discussion with Olenna, Daenerys turned her attention to the upcoming campaign against the Free Cities.
She spent the next hour consulting with the great lords of Westeros.
This invasion would not require a massive army.
Only eighty thousand troops would be deployed.
Each kingdom would contribute forces, while the overall command would fall to Master of Ships Yara Greyjoy.
Once the details had been finalized, the lords departed to prepare their respective armies.
Not long after returning to her chambers with Daenerys, Drogon quietly slipped away.
There was someone he wanted to see.
Bran Stark.
And perhaps Jon Snow as well.
Some truths had remained buried long enough.
Arriving outside Bran's room, Drogon knocked twice.
The door opened.
The moment Bran saw him, a flicker of fear crossed his face.
The memories were still fresh.
Drogon's previous warnings.
The overwhelming divine pressure unleashed during the coronation.
Neither had been easy to forget.
Seeing Bran's nervous expression, Drogon grinned.
This time, however, it was a surprisingly friendly smile.
Perhaps he'd been a little too intimidating before.
Jumping onto a nearby table, he grabbed a quill and quickly scribbled a message.
Then he pushed the paper toward Bran.
"I assume you've already discovered Jon's true identity.
Tell them.
It's time for them to know.
It's time for family to be reunited."
Bran's eyes widened as he read.
"You... how do you know this?"
His voice trembled.
The only surviving witness to the events at the Tower of Joy was Howland Reed, Meera's father.
Even Ned Stark had carried the secret to his grave.
He had endured accusations of dishonor for years rather than reveal the truth.
No one else should have known.
Had Drogon somehow found Howland Reed?
Was that how he'd learned the secret?
Drogon quickly wrote another response.
"I've never met Howland Reed.
And do you really think a man your father trusted with such a secret would reveal it to anyone?
Now go.
Take Jon to meet his aunt."
With that, Drogon hopped from the table and left.
Leaving Bran alone in stunned silence.
Staring at the paper, Bran felt his thoughts whirl.
Only one conclusion remained.
He really knows everything.
That was the impression Drogon always gave him.
Ever since their first meeting, Bran had felt as though the dragon could see straight through him.
Now Drogon had casually revealed knowledge of a secret lost to history itself.
If Drogon weren't a dragon—if he weren't a god—Bran might have believed he was some greenseer far more powerful than himself.
Slowly, Bran's shock gave way to relief.
Thinking back on all the worries he'd carried since discovering Jon's parentage, he suddenly felt ridiculous.
Drogon clearly didn't view Jon's claim as a threat to Daenerys's throne.
Nor did he have any intention of silencing either of them.
Bran let out a long breath.
Then came another familiar feeling.
Defeat.
A bitter smile appeared on his face.
In the end, perhaps he'd be better off spending his time planting more weirwoods.
After composing himself, Bran wheeled himself down the corridor and knocked on Jon's door.
Jon opened it and looked surprised.
"Bran?"
They had only parted a short while ago after the coronation.
He hadn't expected his brother to seek him out so soon.
Bran entered the room.
Jon pushed his wheelchair inside, smiling casually.
Then Bran spoke.
"When I was observing Father's memories of the battle at the Tower of Joy, I saw Aunt Lyanna."
Jon froze.
"Before she died," Bran continued quietly, "she entrusted Father with a newborn child."
The smile vanished from Jon's face.
A deep frown formed beneath his dark brows.
He walked around the wheelchair and stood directly before Bran.
Waiting.
Listening.
Knowing somehow that his life was about to change.
Bran met his eyes.
Then he spoke the truth.
"You're not Father's bastard."
"You are Aunt Lyanna's son."
The room fell silent.
Jon stood motionless.
For several seconds he couldn't find his voice.
When he finally spoke, it came out strained and uncertain.
"Then why did Father..."
He swallowed.
"Why did Father tell everyone I was his?"
For the first time in years, something close to resentment surfaced in Jon's heart.
Toward the man he had always loved and respected.
If Ned Stark wasn't truly his father...
Then why had he allowed Jon to grow up carrying the stain of bastardy?
Why had he let him endure the whispers, the judgment, and the cold looks from noble and commoner alike?
Why had he borne that burden from the moment he was born?
And why had the truth been hidden for so long?