Vaes Drakarys - The Escort
Angelus - First Person
Yennefer of Vengerberg. Triss Merigold. Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon.
I recognized all three of them the moment I landed, though I was careful to keep that recognition from showing in my expression or my mental emanations. In my previous life, I had spent countless hours playing the Witcher games, reading the books, and debating lore with fellow fans on forums that no longer existed in any reality I could reach.
Now those fictional characters stood before me in the flesh, looking up at my Level 4 form with a mixture of fear and defiance that was almost endearing.
I had known for some time that this world was a fusion of multiple realities—we had encountered Witcher monsters since the early days of our journey through Essos, creatures that belonged to a different fictional universe than the one Game of Thrones occupied. The Continent where Geralt and these three originated was likely separated from Essos and Westeros by vast oceanic distances rather than dimensional barriers, all part of the same merged world.
But seeing Yennefer, Triss, and Ciri in person confirmed something I had only suspected: the key characters from those stories existed here too, not just the monsters. That had implications I would need to consider carefully.
For now, though, I had a role to play.
"Commander Vaelos," I projected, keeping my voice neutral and commanding. "Escort our... guests to the council chamber. I will question them there."
"At once, my Lady."
I shifted my massive form, preparing to walk alongside the escort rather than fly ahead. I wanted to observe these three up close, to gauge their reactions to my empire without the pressure of direct interrogation.
And, I admitted to myself, I was curious. Ten thousand years was a long time, and I hadn't felt genuinely curious about anything in centuries.
Ciri - First Person
The dragon walked beside us.
I had seen many terrifying things in my life—the Wild Hunt, the monsters of the Continent, the horrors that lurked in the dimensions I had accidentally visited during my years of running. But nothing had prepared me for the casual way this creature moved through its city, its massive form somehow navigating streets that should have been far too narrow for something its size.
The city itself was remarkable. The architecture blended styles I didn't recognize—elegant curves and sharp angles, practical fortifications and artistic flourishes. Everywhere I looked, I saw the scaled warriors who had captured us going about their daily business. Some carried weapons; others pulled carts or tended to what looked like market stalls. A few even had children with them—small figures with partial scales who watched us pass with wide, curious eyes.
"They're not all soldiers," I murmured to Yennefer, who walked beside me with her usual composed expression. "There are families here."
"I noticed," she replied quietly. "This isn't a military encampment. It's a civilization."
Triss, on my other side, was studying the magical wards woven into the buildings with professional interest. "The enchantments are unlike anything I've seen before. The base principles are similar to our magic, but the execution is completely foreign. It's like looking at a language you almost understand but can't quite read."
Commander Vaelos—the copper-scaled warrior who had captured us—glanced back at our conversation but said nothing. His soldiers maintained a loose formation around us, close enough to respond if we tried anything but not so close as to feel oppressive.
"Commander," I called out, deciding that information was worth more than pride at this point. "This city—how long has it existed?"
He considered the question for a moment before answering. "Vaes Drakarys was founded approximately two years ago, though it has grown significantly since then. Before the Wyrmborne claimed it, this place was called Qarth—a human trading city that made the mistake of threatening Lady Angelus's partner."
"Two years?" Triss's voice carried genuine surprise. "You built all of this in two years?"
"We didn't build it. We conquered it and then improved it." There was pride in his voice, the kind that came from being part of something larger than oneself. "The Wyrmborne don't create from nothing. We transform what exists into something greater."
"And the... transformations?" Yennefer gestured at a passing Draconian, her violet eyes sharp with academic interest. "Your people weren't born this way, were they?"
"Most of us were human once, yes. The conversion process grants us new forms better suited to serving the Wyrmborne cause." Vaelos's copper scales caught the sunlight as he turned to face us more fully. "I was a soldier in a Dothraki khalasar before Lady Angelus arrived. Now I am something more."
"And you chose this willingly?"
"I did. As did most of us." His eyes—slitted and golden—held no resentment, only conviction. "The Wyrmborne offer purpose to those who have none, strength to those who were weak, and belonging to those who were alone. In exchange, we serve. It is a fair trade."
I exchanged glances with Yennefer and Triss. Whatever we had stumbled into, it was far more complex than a simple monster lair.
Questions and Answers
Third Person
The walk through Vaes Drakarys took nearly an hour, during which the three travelers absorbed as much information as they could.
They passed through market districts where Draconians haggled over goods that ranged from mundane foodstuffs to weapons that pulsed with inner light. They saw training grounds where warriors drilled in formations that combined individual skill with coordinated tactics. They glimpsed workshops where smiths worked metal that seemed to shift colors as it was forged.
Through it all, Angelus walked beside them in silence, her massive form a constant reminder of the power that ruled this place.
"Commander," Triss ventured after they had been walking for some time. "You mentioned that Lady Angelus arrived here. Where did she come from?"
Vaelos glanced at the dragon, who gave no visible response, before answering. "That information is classified."
"Classified?" Ciri frowned at the unfamiliar term. "What does that mean?"
"It means the information is restricted—available only to those with appropriate clearance or need to know." Vaelos's tone suggested he was reciting something he had learned. "Lady Angelus introduced the concept when she began organizing our forces. She said that in warfare, information is as valuable as weapons, and it should be protected accordingly. The term spread throughout our culture from there."
Yennefer's eyebrow rose slightly. "An interesting philosophy for a dragon to hold."
"Lady Angelus is unlike any dragon you've ever encountered," Vaelos replied. "She thinks in ways that most beings—human or otherwise—cannot comprehend. Her strategies span decades. Her plans account for possibilities that others cannot even imagine."
"You speak of her with great reverence," Ciri observed.
"She has earned it." Vaelos stopped walking, turning to face them fully. The escort halted around them, and even Angelus paused, her massive head turning slightly to observe the exchange. "I will tell you what is not classified, so that you understand who you are dealing with."
He took a breath—an oddly human gesture from his scaled form.
"Lady Angelus arrived in this world approximately three years ago, wounded and weakened from a battle in her home dimension. She was found by Daenerys Targaryen, a young woman of dragon blood who was about to be sold into marriage to a Dothraki warlord. They formed a pact—a magical bond that linked their souls and their fates."
"A pact?" Triss leaned forward, her professional interest evident. "What kind of pact?"
"The details are classified. But I can tell you that since that day, Lady Angelus has transformed everything she has touched. She united the Dothraki under Daenerys's banner. She created the Dragonborn and the Draconians—new races born from human volunteers who chose to serve. She founded cities, built armies, and conquered those who would oppose her."
Vaelos gestured at the city around them. "Vaes Drakarys is one of four cities under Wyrmborne control. Vaes Zaldri, our capital, was built from nothing in the Dothraki Sea. Vaes Zaldrizes was once called Yunkai—a slaver city that fell to our forces. And Vaes Meereen, our newest conquest, was taken just weeks ago."
"Four cities in three years," Yennefer murmured. "That's an impressive rate of expansion."
"We do not expand for the sake of expansion. Every conquest serves a greater purpose—the eventual reclamation of Old Valyria, the ancestral homeland of dragonkind in this world." Vaelos's voice carried the weight of absolute belief. "Lady Angelus will restore what was lost, and those who serve her will share in that glory."
Ciri's mind was racing. Another world. Angelus had come from another world—another dimension, wounded from some battle that had nearly killed her. The implications made her heart pound with sudden, desperate hope.
"Commander," she said carefully, "you said Lady Angelus came from another dimension. Does that mean she knows how to travel between worlds?"
Vaelos's golden eyes studied her for a long moment. "That information is classified. But I suspect Lady Angelus will address your questions directly once we reach the council chamber."
The Council Chamber
Angelus - First Person
The council chamber of Vaes Drakarys was designed to accommodate my true form.
The ceiling soared high enough that I could rear up to my full height if I chose, and the floor was reinforced to bear my weight without cracking. A raised dais at one end served as my throne of sorts—a platform where I could settle and still look down upon whoever stood before me.
The seats arranged around the chamber's perimeter were empty now. Daenerys, Drogo, Jhogo, Jorah, and the others were all still in Vaes Meereen, handling the integration that would take at least another month to complete. I felt their absence as a dull ache in my chest—the pack bond reminding me that my family was far away.
But I had work to do here.
I settled onto the dais, my massive form coiling into a position that was comfortable for extended conversation. The three travelers were escorted to the center of the chamber, where they stood looking up at me with expressions that ranged from wary (Yennefer) to curious (Triss) to calculating (Ciri).
"Leave us," I commanded Vaelos. "Station guards outside, but I will speak with these three alone."
"My Lady." He bowed and withdrew, taking his soldiers with him. The heavy doors closed behind them with a resonant boom.
Silence stretched for a moment as I studied my guests.
Yennefer stood with the poise of someone who had faced powerful beings before and survived. Her violet eyes met mine without flinching, though I could sense the tension in her muscles, the readiness to cast a defensive spell if I attacked.
Triss was more openly nervous, her auburn hair catching the light from the magical lamps that illuminated the chamber. But beneath the nervousness was professional curiosity—a mage's desire to understand the unfamiliar.
And Ciri—Ciri watched me with an intensity that suggested she was looking for something specific. Her green eyes held a depth of experience that belied her youth, the eyes of someone who had seen too much and survived anyway.
"You arrived in my territory through magical means," I began, keeping my voice neutral. "At the exact moment an enemy fleet attacked my city. You will understand why I view that timing with suspicion."
"We had nothing to do with those pirates," Yennefer said firmly. "Our portal malfunctioned. We were attempting to reach a different location entirely."
"So I gathered from your earlier statements. But 'malfunctioned' covers a wide range of possibilities. Explain to me exactly what you were attempting, and why."
The three women exchanged glances. Some silent communication passed between them—the kind that came from long familiarity and shared danger.
Finally, Yennefer spoke.
"We were attempting to reach a continent called Westeros, on the western edge of this world. We've received information that someone we're looking for has been operating there—a man named Geralt of Rivia."
I tilted my head slightly, performing ignorance. "Geralt of Rivia. The name means nothing to me. Who is he, and why do you seek him?"
"Geralt is a Witcher," Triss answered, stepping forward slightly. "On the Continent—our homeland, far to the north across the seas—Witchers are monster hunters. They undergo mutations that grant them enhanced abilities, allowing them to fight creatures that normal humans cannot."
"Monster hunters," I repeated, letting interest color my mental voice. "The Continent has need of such specialists?"
"The Continent has many dangers," Ciri said quietly. "Creatures that prey on humanity, supernatural threats that require supernatural solutions. The Witchers exist to protect people from those dangers—for a price."
"Mercenaries, then."
"Of a sort. But Geralt is more than just a Witcher. He's..." Ciri hesitated, and I saw emotion flicker across her face before she controlled it. "He's family. The closest thing to a father I've ever had. We were separated, and we've been trying to find him ever since."
I studied her for a long moment, reading the truth in her expression. Whatever else Ciri might be—and I knew exactly what she was—her feelings for Geralt were genuine.
"You said you received information that this Geralt was in Westeros," I said. "How? The Continent is far across the seas—how would you know where someone on this side of the world was operating?"
"Trade routes and travelers carry information across the seas," Yennefer explained. "We heard tales of white-haired monster hunters appearing in the western kingdoms—Westeros. I've traveled there before, so I know the land somewhat, though not the finer details of its politics. We hoped the rumors might lead us to Geralt, or at least to other Witchers who might know where he is."
Witchers in Westeros. Monsters that shouldn't exist. The implications aligned with what I already knew—that this world was a fusion of multiple fictional realities, bleeding together in ways that created both opportunities and dangers.
"And the Wild Hunt?" I asked, watching their reactions carefully. "Commander Vaelos mentioned that you spoke of needing help against something called the Wild Hunt."
All three of them tensed. Ciri's hand moved unconsciously toward her sword before she caught herself.
"The Wild Hunt is why we're searching so desperately," Triss said, her voice tight. "They're a group of spectral riders from another dimension—the Aen Elle, or the Alder Folk. They hunt across worlds, taking slaves and destroying anyone who opposes them."
"And they're hunting Ciri specifically," Yennefer added, her violet eyes flickering to the younger woman. "Her bloodline carries what we call the Elder Blood—a genetic trait that grants the ability to travel between worlds. The Wild Hunt wants that power for themselves."
I let silence stretch for a moment, processing this information as if it were new to me.
"So you're being hunted by interdimensional slavers, you've lost the one person who might be able to protect you, and you accidentally teleported into my territory while trying to find him." I let a note of dry amusement enter my voice. "Your luck is remarkably poor."
"We've noticed," Ciri said flatly.
"The portal malfunction," I continued, shifting the topic. "You mentioned that something interfered with your magic. Based on what I observed of your arrival, I believe I know what caused it."
Yennefer's eyes sharpened. "You do?"
"The Wyrmborne use a form of magic that is... incompatible with most other magical systems. We call it Chaos-Forged—a blend of draconic energy and mortal sorcery that creates effects neither could achieve alone. The ambient magical field around our territories is saturated with this energy." I gestured with one massive claw toward the walls. "When your portal attempted to form near our city, the interference would have disrupted your calculations, sending you here instead of your intended destination."
"That would explain the distortion," Triss murmured, her mage's mind already working through the implications. "The magical signature I felt during the transit was unlike anything I'd encountered. If your territory's ambient field operates on different principles than standard sorcery..."
"Then any attempt to portal through or near it would face significant interference," Yennefer finished. "Wonderful. That means we can't simply try again."
"Not without adjusting your calculations to account for the interference," I agreed. "Which would require understanding our magical system well enough to compensate for it."
The implications hung in the air. They couldn't leave easily. They were, for all practical purposes, stuck here until they could solve the magical puzzle that had trapped them.
And that gave me time to decide what to do with them.
Judgment
Third Person
Angelus was silent for several long minutes.
Her massive form remained motionless on the dais, but one claw had begun tapping against the stone floor in a slow, rhythmic pattern. The sound echoed through the empty council chamber—tap, tap, tap—each impact a reminder of the power contained in those talons.
Ciri found herself counting the taps, her tension building with each one. The dragon was thinking, deciding their fate with the casual deliberation of a being who had all the time in the world and knew it.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Triss shifted beside her, the movement betraying her own nervousness. Yennefer remained still, but her hands had curled into fists at her sides.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Angelus spoke.
"You may stay."
The three women let out breaths they hadn't realized they were holding.
"However," Angelus continued, her golden eyes sweeping across each of them in turn, "there are conditions. You will not attack, sabotage, or otherwise interfere with Wyrmborne operations. You will not share what you learn here with anyone outside our territory without my explicit permission. And you will make yourselves useful while you remain—I do not tolerate freeloaders."
"Those terms are acceptable," Yennefer said carefully. "But how do you expect us to be useful? We don't know your magic, your customs, or your goals."
"You're sorceresses of considerable power, and Ciri appears to be a trained combatant. I'm certain we can find applications for your talents." Angelus's mental voice carried a hint of dry humor. "Besides, understanding our magic is precisely what you need to do if you want to leave. Consider it mutual benefit."
"And once we understand it well enough to compensate for the interference?" Ciri asked. "Will you let us go?"
"If you have upheld the conditions of your stay and given me no reason to distrust you? Yes." Angelus's head lowered slightly, bringing her enormous eyes closer to their level. "I am not in the habit of keeping prisoners who have done nothing wrong. But I am also not in the habit of letting potential threats walk free without understanding their intentions."
Before anyone could respond, the chamber doors opened and Commander Vaelos entered, his posture suggesting urgency.
"My Lady, I apologize for the interruption, but I have the report you requested on the fleeing enemy vessels."
"Speak."
"We've confirmed that Euron Greyjoy was among the survivors. He escaped on one of the twelve ships that fled the engagement—our pursuit vessels lost him in a fog bank that appeared with suspicious suddenness." Vaelos's voice carried frustration. "We believe he may have had magical assistance."
Angelus's tail twitched—the only visible sign of her reaction. "Euron Greyjoy. The mad Ironborn who styles himself a priest of the Drowned God."
"The same, my Lady."
"Then his escape was no coincidence." Angelus rose from her resting position, her massive form uncoiling with fluid grace. "The Drowned God sent this fleet. It was testing our defenses, probing for weaknesses. And it ensured its chosen servant survived to report back."
"The Drowned God?" Yennefer's voice cut through the moment, sharp with surprise. "You speak of it as if it were real. I know of the Ironborn and their beliefs from my time in Westeros, but I always assumed such entities were myths—metaphors for natural forces that primitive peoples couldn't understand."
Angelus turned her head to regard the sorceress, and something ancient and cold flickered in her golden eyes.
"The Drowned God is very real. I know this because I killed and consumed one of its Apostles less than a month ago—a creature called the Lightning Kraken, though I nicknamed it "Tempest" during our battle. It was a being of divine power that had existed since before recorded history." Her mental voice carried the weight of absolute certainty. "The battle lasted ten days. It nearly killed me. And in the end, I tore out its heart and ate it while it was still beating."
The silence that followed was absolute.
"That's..." Triss's voice was barely a whisper. "That's impossible. Divine entities can't simply be killed."
"I didn't kill the Drowned God itself. I killed its Apostle—a fragment of its power given physical form." Angelus settled back onto her dais, her massive form radiating quiet menace. "But in doing so, I severed the God's connection to this region and consumed power that it had accumulated over millennia. The Drowned God is wounded. And now it's testing me, trying to determine if I can be destroyed in turn."
"Hence the Greyjoy fleet," Ciri said quietly, pieces clicking into place. "Not a serious attack—a reconnaissance in force."
"Exactly." Angelus's eyes fixed on her with new interest. "You understand strategic thinking. Good. That may prove useful."
"What will you do?" Yennefer asked. "If a god is testing you?"
"I will remain here in Vaes Drakarys until I'm certain the immediate threat has passed. The Drowned God is patient, but it's also angry. It will strike again—and when it does, I intend to be ready." Angelus's tail swept across the floor in a gesture that might have been dismissal. "Commander Vaelos, arrange accommodations for our guests. Something comfortable but secure—I want to know where they are at all times."
"At once, my Lady."
The Accommodations
Ciri - First Person
The rooms they gave us were nicer than I expected.
A suite of three connected chambers on the upper floor of what appeared to be an administrative building, with windows that overlooked the harbor and the sea beyond. The furniture was well-crafted and comfortable, the linens were clean, and there was even a small sitting room where the three of us could gather.
It was also, as Angelus had specified, clearly monitored. I could feel the magical wards woven into the walls, and I had noticed the guards posted at both ends of the hallway outside.
"Well," Triss said as she settled onto one of the chairs in the sitting room, "that could have gone worse."
"Could have gone better, too." Yennefer stood at the window, her violet eyes tracking the movement of ships in the harbor below. "We're effectively prisoners, regardless of how politely they phrase it."
"Guests with restrictions," I corrected, though I knew she was right. "But did you hear what she said? About the Kraken?"
"I heard." Yennefer turned from the window, her expression troubled. "Either she's lying, or she's one of the most powerful beings in this world. Given what we've seen..."
"She's not lying," Triss said quietly. "I could feel the residual energy when she spoke about it. Whatever she did to that Kraken, it left marks on her—power that she absorbed and integrated into herself. She wasn't boasting. She was stating fact."
I moved to the window beside Yennefer, looking out at the city that sprawled below us. Vaes Drakarys was beautiful in the evening light, its architecture catching the sunset in ways that made it seem almost magical. The scaled warriors moved through the streets with purpose, and I could hear distant sounds of laughter from somewhere in the city.
"She's from another world," I said finally. "Another dimension, like the ones I've visited. She found her way here, built an empire, and now she's fighting gods."
"What are you thinking, Ciri?" Yennefer's voice was careful.
"I'm thinking that she might understand things no one else does. About traveling between worlds, surviving in places you don't belong, building something from nothing when everything you knew is gone." I turned to face both of them. "I want to stay longer. Learn more. Maybe she knows something that could help us—help me control my powers better, or find a way to stop the Wild Hunt for good."
Triss and Yennefer exchanged glances, some silent communication passing between them.
"I won't pretend I'm not curious about their magic," Triss admitted. "The principles they're using are unlike anything in our archives. If I could study them properly..."
"And I want to understand how a being of that power thinks," Yennefer added. "What drives her, what she wants, what her weaknesses might be. Knowledge is leverage, and right now we have precious little of either."
I nodded slowly. "Then we're agreed? We stay, learn, and we look for opportunities?"
"We stay," Yennefer confirmed. "But we stay careful. That dragon didn't survive ten thousand years by being naive, and neither did we."
Vaes Zaldri - Mental Communication
Angelus - First Person
The sun had set over Vaes Drakarys by the time I reached out through the pact-bond.
Daenerys. Mikhail. Are you available?
The response came almost immediately—the warm presence of my partners touching my mind across hundreds of miles.
Always, for you. Daenerys's mental voice carried exhaustion and affection in equal measure. What's happening? We felt your presence shift to Vaes Drakarys.
The Greyjoys attacked. Sixty ships, probably sent by the Drowned God to test our defenses. I settled more comfortably in my temporary quarters, a courtyard large enough to accommodate my form. Tempest's Bane and the garrison handled them easily—forty-eight ships destroyed, twelve fled, no Wyrmborne casualties.
That's excellent news. Mikhail's voice joined the conversation, her mental presence tinged with the lingering pain of her healing injuries. But I sense there's more.
Three travelers arrived during the attack. Portal magic—they were trying to reach Westeros and ended up here instead. Our ambient magical field interfered with their calculations.
Travelers from where?
I considered how to explain what I knew about them. From the Continent—the Witcher lands across the ocean. They claim to be searching for someone called Geralt of Rivia—a Witcher, which is apparently a type of monster hunter. We've encountered their monsters before; now we've met their people.
You believe them?
I do. Their story is consistent, their reactions are genuine, and the magical signature of their arrival supports long-distance portal travel. I paused, gathering my thoughts. But there's something else. I recognized them.
Confusion rippled through the bond. Recognized them? How?
In my previous existence—my life before I became a dragon—I knew of them. They were characters in stories, fictional people from tales I consumed for entertainment. I let that sink in for a moment. This world contains elements from multiple such stories. The Wild Hunt they fear, the Witchers they seek—these were all known to me before.
That's... extraordinary. Daenerys's mental voice was thoughtful. You've never mentioned this part about the Witcher side before.
I wasn't certain it was relevant until now. But if these three are here, it means the merging of realities extends beyond what I initially assumed. There may be other elements—other people, other threats—that I will recognize from my former life.
And these three specifically? Mikhail asked. What do you know of them?
I considered the question carefully. The dark-haired one is Yennefer of Vengerberg—a sorceress of considerable power with a complicated history. The auburn-haired one is Triss Merigold—another sorceress, more idealistic than Yennefer but no less capable. And the youngest, with the white hair and scar, is Cirilla—Ciri. She possesses something called the Elder Blood, which grants her the ability to travel between dimensions.
Like your own abilities?
Similar in effect, different in origin. Her power is inherited, genetic. Mine comes from ten thousand years of magical accumulation and draconic evolution. I felt a small smile form in my mind. I find myself... interested in them.
Interested? Daenerys's voice carried a note of amusement. In what way?
They're remarkable individuals—powerful and intelligent with an adaptability that speaks to hard-won experience. They've survived things that would destroy lesser beings, and they've done it while maintaining their core selves. I let my appreciation flow through the bond. In another context, I might have dismissed them as merely human. But these three... they're something more.
You're thinking of adding them to the harem, Mikhail said bluntly.
The thought has crossed my mind.
Daenerys's laughter rippled through the mental connection. If you take all three of them, who does that leave for this Geralt they're so desperate to find?
I considered the question with mock seriousness. He could always take Shani—she was always fond of him in the stories I remember. Or if he's truly desperate, I suppose I could find him a suitable match. Perhaps a nice Draconian who appreciates brooding white-haired swordsmen.
You're terrible, Mikhail said, but her mental voice was warm with affection.
I prefer 'efficient.' Why let quality individuals go to waste when they could serve a greater purpose? I stretched slightly. But that's a consideration for later. For now, I need to focus on the Drowned God's response and ensure our defenses are adequate.
Be careful, Daenerys said. We need you.
I know. And I will return to you as soon as the situation here is stable. I let my love flow through the bond. Take care of each other while I'm away.
Always, they replied in unison.
The connection faded to its usual background hum, and I was alone again with my thoughts.
Yennefer. Triss. Ciri.
Three remarkable women from a world I had once known only as fiction. Now they were real, present, and potentially valuable additions to everything I was building.
The future had just become significantly more interesting.
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End of Chapter Twenty