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Harry Potter and all of its characters belong to J.K. Rowling.
ASOIAF and all of its characters belong to GRRM
I own nothing but the original characters I make.
"Dialogue"
'Thoughts'
-Author notes-
Chapter 110: The Dragon's Determination
The world snapped back into focus with a rush of salt-scented air and the familiar creak of wooden timbers.
Joffrey stood on the deck of the Storm Dancer, the heat of the Slaver's Bay sun beating down on his face, the scent of the sea filling his nostrils.
The phoenix was still perched on his shoulder, its golden eyes surveying the unfamiliar surroundings.
He had returned.
Some of the sailors present on the deck became startled when they saw him appear from a burst of golden flames. They stumbled backward, their hands flying to their weapons. But they quickly recognized him and took off running to alert someone of his arrival.
Joffrey waited patiently, taking in his surroundings. The harbor of Astapor stretched before him, its yellow brick walls gleaming in the afternoon light, the massive pyramid of the Good Masters rising in the distance.
"So... we are finally in Astapor," he murmured, his voice carrying a note of dry amusement. "It's hot here."
He was currently wearing the heavy furs he had been given in Winterfell, their thick layers trapping the heat against his skin. Not the most appropriate attire for this part of Essos.
"I should take these off before I start sweating like a pig."
Lord Varys was the first to find him, his soft footsteps barely audible against the worn planks of the deck. The eunuch's eyes were wide with a mixture of relief and concern when they spotted Joffrey.
He had been pacing the deck for hours, his silken robes damp with sweat, his carefully composed mask of calm frayed at the edges.
"Prince Joffrey!" Varys exclaimed, his voice carrying a note of genuine relief. "You have returned! We were beginning to fear the worst. Where have you been? What happened to you?"
Joffrey raised an eyebrow. "I had important matters to attend to, Lord Varys. Personal matters." He paused, gesturing toward the furs still clinging to his body. "Now, why don't you give me a hand with these furs? It is hard to take them off with one hand."
"One...oh..." Varys's eyes moved to Joffrey's missing arm. The stump was now visible under his furs. "Are you in need of healing? We have no Maester, but I believe Lord Tyrion has made more of that ointment."
"I am fine," Joffrey responded, his voice flat. "Just help me with these clothes and tell me where Daenerys is. I advised her to wait for me before making any moves, but I can already tell she is not on the ship."
Varys smiled as his hands worked to remove the layers of thick furs from Joffrey's body, his movements quick and efficient. "Sharp as always, my prince." His expression shifted, a hint of apology crossing his features. "You will have to forgive us, but we were given little choice in the matter. As soon as we arrived at the docks, the Good Masters sent their soldiers to demand a meeting with the Queen. They were... insistent."
Joffrey's eyes narrowed, his green gaze sharpening with interest. "And Daenerys agreed?"
"She saw an opportunity," Varys said, a hint of admiration creeping into his voice. "The Queen is most cunning, my prince. She devised a plan to acquire the Unsullied without paying a single coin of gold. I believe you will be pleased with her strategy."
"Mmmm..." Joffrey studied the eunuch for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Varys had always been a creature of secrets and schemes. But there was something different about him now...a glint of genuine respect for Daenerys that had not been there before.
"What is this plan?" Joffrey asked, his voice carrying a note of curiosity.
Varys opened his mouth to respond, but his eyes were drawn to the creature perched on Joffrey's shoulder. The phoenix tilted its head, its golden eyes fixed on the eunuch with an intensity that made him take a step back.
"My prince," Varys said, his voice carefully neutral, "what manner of creature is that? I have never seen anything like it. Is that fire on its feathers?"
Joffrey glanced up at Fawkes, a faint smile playing at his lips. "He is a phoenix, Lord Varys. A creature of fire and rebirth. You could say that he found me in the North and chose to accompany me on my journey."
Varys stared at the bird, his face a mixture of awe and unease. "A phoenix? I have heard no tales of such creatures. Such a peculiar thing..."
"Yes, well..." Joffrey's attention was drawn to the door of the captain's cabin, which burst open to reveal two figures emerging onto the deck.
Ros was the first, the red-haired woman walking onto the deck with an expression of calm composure. She was a creature of habit, a woman who had seen many strange things in her service and had learned not to react to them.
Behind her came Saera, her eyes darting across the deck until they found him. Her face lit up with relief, her feet carrying her forward before her mind could catch up.
"Joffrey!" Saera screamed, her voice cracking with emotion. She rushed forward, her arms open wide, and threw herself against him. "You're back! You're finally back! I was so worried! You disappeared without a word, and no one knew where you had gone, and I thought..."
Joffrey allowed himself to be embraced, his expression softening just slightly. He had not expected such a warm reception, but there was something genuine in Saera's fear, something that touched him despite himself.
"I am sorry," he said, his voice quiet. "I had to leave suddenly. There was something I had to do. But I am back now."
Saera pulled back, her eyes scanning his face. Then they fell onto his missing arm, and her expression shifted to concern. "Your arm..."
Joffrey glanced down at the stump, then back at Saera. "It is fine. It does not hurt anymore. And do not worry...I can make a new one. I just need some time and materials."
Saera's eyes glistened with unshed tears. "We still have your old arm," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "We were so shocked when-"
"Wait..." Joffrey interrupted her, his eyes narrowing with sudden interest. "My arm was left here? And you still have it?" He had assumed that his missing limb was lost somewhere in between the immense distance between the ship and Winterfell, that it had been consumed by the chaos of his departure.
Saera nodded, her voice gaining strength. "When you disappeared, your arm fell to the floor. We were all so shocked...but Tyrion grabbed it immediately and placed it in one of those containers you created to keep materials fresh. He said it might be useful later."
Joffrey's eyes widened, a flicker of genuine surprise crossing his features. He had crafted several containers with preservation charms and left them in his workshop on the ship. He had not expected anyone to think of using them, much less Tyrion.
"Tyrion did that?" Joffrey asked, his voice carrying a note of grudging respect. If he had been quick enough, those containers should have kept his limb in perfect condition, as if it had just been severed.
Saera nodded. "He said you would be grateful."
Joffrey smiled, a thin, knowing expression. "He was right. With my original arm still intact, I can reattach it. The magic will be much easier than creating a new one from scratch." He paused, his eyes moving to the city. "But first, I need to know what is happening in Astapor. When I extended my senses, I felt... conflict and chaos."
"I do not have your power, Prince, but even I can smell the blood from here," Ros observed, her voice carrying a note of grim certainty.
"I suppose the negotiations went south," Joffrey commented, his voice dry.
"Not at all," Varys said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "This was always her plan, my prince. If everything went according to what we predicted, all of the Unsullied must be in her power now, and the Masters are paying the price instead of her."
Joffrey raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
"Indeed," Varys confirmed. "Her idea was to tempt them with the secrets of the dragonblood ritual in exchange for the Unsullied, and then use the soldiers to destroy them."
Joffrey was silent for a moment, processing the information. He had expected Daenerys to be cunning, but this was a level of ruthlessness that even he had not anticipated. She had not simply taken the army...she had destroyed the system that had created it. "Perhaps I have underestimated that girl..."
His eyes moved to the city, where Drogon was circling overhead. The dragon's shadow fell across the red brick streets, dark and ominous. And then, as they watched, Drogon opened his mouth and breathed fire onto the Great Pyramid. The flames engulfed the ancient structure, the stone melting, the walls crumbling, the screams of the Masters echoing across the city.
Joffrey smiled, a cold, approving expression. "Well then... I think I will go see things for myself."
Joffrey descended from the ship with Saera at his side. The city that had once been a bastion of slavery and cruelty was now a charnel house, its streets filled with the bodies of the Masters and their guards.
The Unsullied had moved through the city with cold efficiency. They cut down the Masters without hesitation, without mercy, their spears finding their marks with mechanical precision.
But they spared the slaves, spared those who surrendered, spared anyone who did not carry the symbols of the slavers.
Saera walked beside Joffrey, her face pale but her steps steady. She had seen much in her life, had witnessed the cruelty of the slavers in Volantis, but this was different. This felt more... just.
"They only killed the slavers and their protectors," Saera spoke in a solemn tone. "That is what the Queen planned. She learned everything she needed from Lyssara...about Astapor, about the Masters, about the Unsullied. She knew that the only way to free this city was to destroy the system that had built it."
Joffrey nodded. "That's how it works." He felt no pity for the Masters, no sorrow for their deaths. They had treated other human beings as items to be bought and sold, as objects to be used and discarded. Now they were finally paying the price for their cruelty.
As they approached the Great Pyramid, which was still burning in the distance, Joffrey spotted the large army of Unsullied.
They stood in neat rows, their bronze shields raised, their spears gleaming. Thousands of them, an army that had been forged in blood and suffering.
Some of the soldiers noticed them and turned to face them, their weapons raised, their eyes wary. They did not know who these strangers were, whether they were allies or enemies.
But Saera stepped forward, her voice clear and confident, speaking in High Valyrian. "We are allies of Daenerys Targaryen! We are not with the Masters!"
The soldiers hesitated, their eyes moving from Saera to Joffrey. Then a voice rang out across the courtyard, commanding and sure.
"Let them pass."
Daenerys Targaryen stood at the end of the courtyard, her silver-gold hair gleaming in the sun, her violet eyes fixed on Joffrey with a mixture of warmth and pride.
Tyrion stood beside her, a satisfied smile on his face. Jorah stood at her other side. Lyssara was there as well, her eyes burning with devotion.
The Unsullied parted like the sea, creating a path for Joffrey and Saera. They walked through the mass of soldiers, their footsteps echoing against the stone, until they stood before Daenerys.
Joffrey looked at her, then at the army that surrounded them, then back at her. "It seems you finally have the army you wanted," he said, his voice carrying a note of approval.
Daenerys smiled, a fierce, determined expression. "I do."
Joffrey's eyes swept across the Unsullied, then back to Daenerys. "Now that you have it... what do you want to do with it?"
Daenerys met his gaze, her violet eyes burning with purpose. "I want to free this land. I want to tear down every city of slaves and build something new in its place. I want to show the world that the old ways are dead, that a new age is dawning."
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