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"Dialogue"
'Thoughts'
-Author notes-
Chapter 111: The Path of the Conqueror
The Great Pyramid of Astapor still smoldered in the distance, its once-mighty form reduced to a crumbling husk of blackened stone.
The flames had died down, but the heat still radiated from the ruins, shimmering in waves that distorted the air. Joffrey stood at the edge of the courtyard, his eyes fixed on the destruction, his expression betraying nothing of his thoughts.
Tyrion stood at his side, his mismatched eyes gleaming with dark amusement.
Saera was on Joffrey's other side, her hand resting lightly on his arm, her presence a quiet comfort.
Ser Jorah Mormont stood with his arms crossed, his weathered face a mask of barely contained frustration.
Before them, the courtyard was filled with thousands of freed slaves.
Men, women, and children who had been destined for the cruel fate of the Unsullied, their tongues were to be cut, their manhoods removed, their souls crushed. Now they stood in the sunlight, with their faces wet with tears, their voices raised in songs of gratitude and praise for their savior.
Daenerys was at the center of it all, her silver-gold hair gleaming in the sun, her violet eyes shining with emotion.
She moved through the crowd, her hands reaching out to touch the faces of the freed, her voice soft and reassuring.
The Unsullied formed a protective ring around her, making sure their new ruler came to no harm at the hands of the former slaves.
"She is in her element," Tyrion observed, his voice carrying a note of dry amusement. "They are calling her the Breaker of Chains now. The liberator of the oppressed. It is quite a title that we can now add to the Mother of Dragons, Khaleesi, and future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. It is getting rather long."
Joffrey nodded slowly, his eyes still fixed on Daenerys. "She has earned this one. But titles always come with burdens."
Jorah stepped forward, his voice sharp with frustration. "Burdens indeed. We should not be wasting time here, celebrating and cheering. We need ships. We need to return to Westeros while the opportunity is still there. Every day we delay is another day for our enemies to consolidate their power."
Tyrion raised an eyebrow. "You have a point, Ser Jorah. But look at them. Look at what she has done here. These people would follow her to the ends of the earth."
"They will follow her to the ends of the earth," Jorah said, his voice grim. "That is the problem. If she continues this crusade, if she insists on freeing every slave in the Free Cities, we will be here for years, or even decades. We will need ships and supplies for all those people… resources we do not have at the moment. And by the time we reach Westeros, there will be nothing left to claim."
Lyssara spoke, her voice carrying the weight of her wisdom. "The flames have shown me many things, Ser Jorah. But the Queen's path is not a straight one. She will face many challenges, many choices. But her destiny lies in the West, not here."
Joffrey turned to the others, his expression thoughtful. "What do you think, Tyrion? Do you agree with Jorah? Should we be heading west now, or wait a bit longer?"
Tyrion was silent for a moment, his eyes fixed on Daenerys. "I think the Queen has a vision that goes beyond mere conquest. She wants to build something new. Something better. That takes time."
"Time we do not have," Jorah insisted. "Stannis Baratheon is still out there, still gathering his forces. If we delay, he will take the throne, and we will have to fight him for it."
"Oh… about that." Joffrey smiled, a cold, knowing expression. "Stannis is not a concern anymore."
The words hung in the air for a long moment. Tyrion turned to him, his eyes narrowing. "What do you mean by that? Did something happen to that man?"
Joffrey's smile widened. "Something did happen to him. Stannis Baratheon is dead. I killed him myself, in the Great Hall of Castle Black. His army has scattered into the wind. There is no one left on that side to claim the throne. I do not think the Baratheons will put up much resistance at this point."
A stunned silence fell over the group. Jorah stared at Joffrey, his mouth open. Tyrion's expression shifted from surprise to calculation. Lyssara's eyes gleamed with something that might have been respect.
"You killed Stannis Baratheon?" Jorah repeated, his voice barely a whisper.
"I did," Joffrey said. "He was planning to burn the Starks alive, and my two siblings, in his quest for the throne. He had gone completely mad, consumed by his obsession. So… I removed him."
Tyrion let out a low whistle. "Well. That changes things considerably."
"It does," Joffrey agreed. "Without Stannis, the war in Westeros is on pause. The Lannisters hold the throne for now, but the Kingdom is divided. The North is considering independence. The Tyrells are scheming for power, and the Martells still want revenge. No one is in a position to mount a serious challenge to Daenerys when she arrives."
Jorah's brow furrowed. "Then why are we still here? If the war is paused, if our enemies are divided, we should strike now. Take the throne while the iron is hot."
"Because taking the throne is not the only goal," Lyssara said, her voice soft. "The Queen has a higher purpose. She seeks to change the world, not just sit upon it."
Tyrion nodded slowly. "The North is considering independence, you say? That is a problem. The Queen intends to rule the Seven Kingdoms, not six or five. If the North secedes, she will have to conquer it."
"The North will not secede," Joffrey said. "Not yet, at least. Ned Stark is an honorable man, but he is also a practical one. He knows that independence would mean war, and he has seen enough war to last a lifetime. He will wait, and he will see what happens when Daenerys arrives."
Lyssara stepped forward. "I have seen her in the flames, Prince Joffrey. I have seen the Queen's path. She will free the slaves, yes. She will conquer the Free Cities, yes. But she will also face the darkness in the North. For that is her destiny. She must seek some common ground with the people of the North, because if she does not… I'm afraid that something terrible will befall us all."
Joffrey met her gaze. "Then you tell her that. I have seen what is up there." But he did not elaborate further.
The new wall he had created would buy them time to keep playing their games, but Joffrey knew that none of that would matter in the end.
'I will still need to find a more permanent solution on that front.' He glanced at Saera and Tyrion. 'Otherwise… none will survive. Not even myself.'
Lyssara inclined her head, a faint smile playing at her lips. "I will speak with the Queen, of course. As one of her advisors, that is my job."
Hours later, the group was making their way back to the ships, the heat of the day finally beginning to fade.
They traveled on a massive palanquin, borne by a hundred Unsullied, who carried it with practiced ease. The streets of Astapor were quiet now, the bodies of the Masters cleared away, the freed slaves beginning the long work of rebuilding their homes.
Joffrey sat in the palanquin, his missing arm throbbing with a dull ache. He was eager to reattach it, to feel whole again. But first, there was something he needed to say.
"If you had not burned the pyramid," Joffrey said, his voice carrying a note of dry annoyance, "we would have a better place to sleep tonight. What were you thinking?"
Daenerys met his gaze, a hint of defiance in her eyes. "It seemed like a good idea at the time. The Masters were using it to oppress their slaves. I wanted to send a message."
"You sent a message, alright," Tyrion said, his voice dry. "A message that says 'do not cross the Dragon Queen, or your pyramid will be reduced to slag.'"
Jorah grunted. "The message was effective. But we would have been safer inside the Masters' fortress."
"The ships are safe enough," Saera said, her voice quiet. "They are not comfortable, but they are safe."
Joffrey shrugged. "We will make do for now. By the way, I have work to do tonight...I need to reattach my arm. Tyrion, I heard you preserved it?"
Tyrion smiled, a hint of pride in his eyes. "I did. I placed it in one of your preservation containers. It should be in perfect condition. But… can you really reattach an arm just like that?"
"I can." That was all Joffrey needed to say. No one here would doubt him at this point.
Joffrey paused, his expression shifting. "Ah… I almost forgot to ask. There is something else I need to address." He glanced at the priestess behind him. "What happened to the other priestess? The red-haired woman… Melisandre. I have not seen her on the ship."
Lyssara's expression shifted to show her confusion. "Melisandre? I have not seen her in years. She left Asshai to travel to Westeros, seeking the one she believed to be Azor Ahai. I assumed she found him. I did not know you two had met."
Joffrey's frown deepened. "Oh… so she never appeared where she was supposed to." He muttered. He had given the woman an untested portkey that should have taken her to Essos, but she had used it while the target was still in motion.
If the portkey had malfunctioned… she could be anywhere in the world. Joffrey knew firsthand how dangerous a faulty teleportation could be.
"Prince Joffrey?" Lyssara called for him while gently touching his shoulder. "Why are you asking for Melisandre? Did you encounter her during your trip?"
"Yes… briefly. She was with Stannis."
"I see. And where did she go?" Lyssara asked.
Joffrey shrugged. "Who knows…"
Their ships were finally in sight, their masts rising above the city's rooftops. The group was relieved, eager to rest after the long, exhausting day. But as they approached the docks, a commotion erupted from the harbor.
Several Red Temple knights came running toward them, their faces flushed with exertion, their robes billowing in the wind. They had been stationed at the docks to guard the ships, and their urgency was immediately apparent.
"Your Grace!" one of them called out, his voice carrying across the courtyard. "We have spotted ships on the horizon! Large ships, approaching the city!"
Daenerys rose from her seat with urgency, her hand instinctively moving to her dragon's horn. "What ships? Who are they?"
The knight reached them, his chest heaving. "We do not know, Your Grace. They fly black banners with some kind of sea creature… a squid, perhaps?"
Joffrey's eyes narrowed. "A black banner with a squid?"
Tyrion's face went pale. "It is probably not a squid, but a kraken. Those sound like the banners of House Greyjoy. The Iron Islands. That must be the Iron Fleet then."
Joffrey's expression shifted, a cold smile playing at his lips. "It seems we have some visitors from Westeros."
Daenerys stepped forward, her eyes fixed on the horizon. "The Iron Fleet? Here? In Slaver's Bay?"
Tyrion nodded, his voice grim. "The Ironborn are the finest sailors in the known world. If they have come to Astapor, they mean business. They are not here for trade."
Joffrey glanced at Daenerys, his expression unreadable. "It appears your conquest is attracting attention, Khaleesi. The Ironborn want something. Whether it is blood, gold, or something else remains to be seen."
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