Daenerys was known as Mhysa, the merciful mother, the liberator of the slaves of Meereen. She had torn off their chains, given them bread and dignified work, and rescued them from the cruelty of their masters. An invaluable reputation for a ruler, but in moments like this, it was also a burden.
And that day, she was determined to cast it off.
She rose in the center of the scaffold, standing tall on the raised platform in the square, clad in dark Valyrian steel armor. The scales of the metal interlocked like those of a dragon, and behind her, a blood-red cloak billowed, bearing the emblem of her house.
Behind her, Vlad, wearing matching armor, sat on one of the two stone thrones. Barristan, Missandei, and the guards, led by Grey Worm, flanked the structure alongside the Bloodriders, now dressed in their barbaric armor.
Daenerys looked out over the crowd packed into the square, surrounding the captured masters, barely contained by the line of Unsullied. Then, she raised her voice so that all could hear.
—People of Meereen! —she cried out, her voice firm and beautiful, rising above the clamor— I stand before you, people of free men, as your queen and protector. You all know that my husband and I are foreigners, that we were not born or raised among you. And yet, when we saw your suffering, we knew we could not stand idly by.
She let her words settle. A murmur of approval rippled through the crowd, followed by shouts of praise.
—And yet, there were those who opposed us. Those who saw all the good we did by freeing men, women, and children... and felt nothing but rage. Not for justice, not for love of their city... but because they lost their gold coins and their power. —She turned to the chained masters and pointed a finger at them.
The square erupted in boos. The faces of former slaves reflected a mixture of fury and hope.
—Despite all my mercy, all the concessions I offered them, —she continued, her tone bitter and her expression grim— despite allowing them to keep their power and their wealth... they could not accept it. Even when they saw that hiring free men could be cheaper than enslaving them, still, they could not do it. Do you know why?
No one answered. Daenerys paused, letting the silence speak for her.
—Because these men do not love wealth, nor do they value comfort. What they cherish, what they long for... is cruelty. They take pleasure in seeing good men and women chained like animals, beaten, starved, broken. They do not want you for your worth. They want you because your pain makes them feel powerful.
The crowd burst into shouts, furious and impassioned. Many raised their fists. Some cried. Others simply stared at Daenerys, as if someone had finally put into words what they had suffered in silence for years.
She raised a hand, asking for silence. Her face was solemn, her gaze burned like dragonfire.
—That is what we fight against! Not just chains and shackles, not just walls and whips... we fight a poison that lives in the hearts of cruel and greedy men. Today, we tear it out by the root.
—These men, known as the Sons of the Harpy, conspired to overthrow you from the throne of Meereen, because in their eyes, they had the right to trample your bodies for their pleasure, to chain and kill you without remorse, simply for their own satisfaction.
She took a few steps toward the masters, her eyes fixed on them like blades.
—And that is why, today, the people will witness the fate of all who seek to place chains upon men. You—those who suffered, who wept, who buried children, fathers, and mothers—you have the final word. There will be no more masters in Meereen.
She turned again to the crowd, her voice rising like a flame.
The crowd responded with a single cry, a human roar that made the city walls tremble: "Mhysa!"
The dragons roared from atop the Great Pyramid, as if celebrating with their mother, growing closer as they heard her call.
For several months, the four beasts had done little more than eat and rest, growing relentlessly. Now, they were as large as elephants, strong enough to carry their riders with ease.
They descended from the sky with a deafening roar that chilled the blood of every noble of Meereen present in the square, condemned or not.
Kinvara, leader of the Red Faith, who had practically moved her seat to Meereen, raised her hands to the heavens, praying and praising what she considered the living embodiment of the fire of Azor.
The dragons landed with a crash that shook the very stones of the city and spread their majestic wings as if to show the world their glory.
But what happened next left all present breathless—except the king and queen.
Drakul, the largest of the dragons, bowed his horn-crowned head toward Vlad…
And spoke.
From his steaming jaws came a guttural sound, rough as lava flowing over stone, but unmistakable in meaning in High Valyrian:
—Ke-pa.
Kepa. Father.
A hush fell over the square. The crowd's eyes widened in disbelief. But it was no mistake, no illusion, because, moments later, Drakul turned his burning gaze toward Daenerys and, with the same effort, uttered another word.
—Mu-nya.
Muña. Mother.
The crowd erupted in cries of praise. Kinvara and the faithful of the Red Faith fell to their knees in tears, while Meereen's nobles turned pale, some swaying as if about to faint.
The dragons, creatures more powerful than any other on the planet, symbols of power and the gods themselves, now bowed before their kings.
Daenerys watched the crowd's reaction in silence, her eyes gleaming with determination as the dragons, still encircling her, roared fiercely. Then she raised her hand, and at once, silence fell over the plaza.