Game of Thrones: Rise of the Supreme Dragon Queen

"Protect Her Majesty the Queen!" The squad leader's face turned pale with shock. While shouting the order, he dashed forward like a whirlwind.

"Bang—!"

With a swift kick to the abdomen, he sent the struggling maid flying straight into the pool.

"Hiss—Screech—!"

At that moment, the green and white dragons returned, circling above Dany's head in furious helplessness, occasionally spitting out thin streams of fire in frustration.

"Your Majesty! Your Majesty, wake up!"

Seeing their queen bleeding from all seven orifices, with a long gash from her back to her left waist oozing blue blood, the Unsullied were gripped with terror, their hands and feet turning ice-cold.

Dany barely managed to open her eyes, her expression dazed as she murmured, "Fire... Fire... Light me up with oil. Drench me and set me ablaze!"

"Ah! Basilisk venom! The Queen must have been poisoned—she's delirious!" The Unsullied holding her up cried out in panic.

If she had the strength, she would have slapped the black eunuch warrior across the face.

"Fire... won't burn me..." She forced the words out with the last of her strength.

Her throat muscles had tightened to the point where she could barely breathe, and her face began to turn purple.

The squad leader suddenly snapped to attention and shouted, "Spearpoint, Dagger, Husk, Corn—help me remove Her Majesty's leg armor and iron boots! The rest of you, follow me!"

Without waiting for questions, he bolted towards the lower hall. The Unsullied, though confused, obeyed out of sheer military discipline.

Four Unsullied swiftly drew their daggers and skillfully unfastened the iron clasps along Dany's thighs. Meanwhile, over twenty soldiers followed their captain downstairs.

"Get lamp oil! The Queen will use fire to purge the poison!" the squad leader roared.

He yanked an oil lamp from the wall, cradling it as he sprinted back to Dany's side. Without hesitation, he doused her in seven or eight pounds of burning oil, wick and all.

Once Spearpoint, Dagger, and the others removed the last of her iron boots, the squad leader pulled out his flint and struck it—

"Bang! Bang!"

Dany's shirt ignited instantly.

"Whoosh—!"

Orange flames engulfed her in an instant.

The squad leader didn't stop there. He drew his short sword, hacking apart a nearby table and chairs, then piled the wooden pieces onto Dany.

At that moment, the other Unsullied returned, each carrying an oil lamp, hesitating uncertainly.

The sharp-minded squad leader bellowed in anger, "What are you standing there for?! Don't you see that Her Majesty's hair hasn't even caught fire yet?!"

"Oh... Oh, right..."

The Unsullied looked down. Dany's shirt had burned to blackened ashes clinging to her skin, yet her exposed flesh remained unscathed—smooth, fair, and radiant with life.

"The Queen is truly the Unburnt..." an Unsullied murmured in awe.

"Quick! Tell the others downstairs to bring more firewood from the kitchen!" the squad leader continued ordering.

"Captain, shouldn't we secure the assassin first?" one of the Unsullied pointed at the maid struggling to get up from the pool.

"Bind her limbs tightly! Strip her clothes, search her teeth thoroughly, and gag her!" the squad leader commanded harshly.

An hour later, under the deep indigo sky scattered with twinkling stars, Ser Jorah Mormont, clad in full armor, panted as he climbed the 100-meter-high Great Pyramid.

Seeing a towering funeral pyre blazing fiercely, a chill ran through him, and his breath caught in his throat. "Your Majesty... Where is Her Majesty?"

"She's under the embers, but we're not sure if—"

"Boom! Boom! Boom—ROAR!"

Before the squad leader could finish, the neatly stacked pyre suddenly trembled—as if a fiery demon were struggling to emerge from within.

"Whoosh—!"

A pale white fist punched through the burning embers.

Amid the crackling and rustling, Dany sat up, her silver hair cascading down her back.

Her hair, face, neck, and shoulders were all covered in soot, making her look like a mischievous child who had spent the whole day playing marbles in the dirt.

Yet her eyes shone bright, her violet irises brimming with vitality and energy.

"Your Majesty?!"

"Your Majesty, are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Dany replied, still seated cross-legged in the fire. She grumbled, "The ashes made it hard to breathe, and the heat beneath the embers wasn't as intense as the outer flames—burning this way was uncomfortable. Sigh... Looks like I'll have to commission a special roasting rack for a more comfortable experience in the future."

Jorah Mormont's jaw dropped in stunned silence. His mind wandered off—picturing a giant street-side teppanyaki grill, scaled up a hundred times, with the Queen lying on top, sizzling...

Shaking off his absurd thoughts, Mormont quickly refocused and asked, "Your Majesty, do you know who sent the assassin?"

"Do I even need to say it? The Ghiscari, of course," Dany rolled her eyes.

Jorah glanced around, ensuring no outsiders were nearby, then asked in a low voice, "I heard... the assassin was Doreah? Was she..."

His voice faltered, disbelief thick in his tone. "Was she a spy from King's Landing... or a Faceless Man?"

The last words were almost forced out—after all, the mere mention of the Faceless Men carried terrifying implications.

"You haven't found Doreah's body yet?" Dany frowned.

Her response confirmed the assassin's identity. Jorah exhaled deeply, muttering, "I always thought the Ghiscari slavers were a decaying power... I never expected them to be this bold."

"Your Majesty, this war is far from over. We must take both Meereen and Kayakayanaya—the Ghiscari are simply too rich to ignore."

The squad leader glanced at Jorah, then at Dany, and said, "Your Grace, the pyramid has been thoroughly searched, but there's no sign of Miss Doreah."

"That... that Unsullied with the pet dog named 'Tinker Bell,' bring him here," Dany said after some thought.

"You mean Ironhead, the guard stationed at the north gate of the palace?" the squad leader asked.

"He's called Ironhead?" The rustic name made Dany inwardly scoff. "I don't know his name. But when I entered the palace this afternoon, his dog barked at me furiously."

"Oh, that's Ironhead. I'll summon him right away," the squad leader nodded.

Dany didn't know Ironhead's name, but she had encountered him and his dog at least ten times before. Their meetings were always brief, without any real interaction. However, that mutt had never bared its teeth at her before—until today, when it suddenly became unusually aggressive, as if she were a hated enemy.

At first, she thought it was because she had killed people earlier that day, and the scent of blood had agitated the dog.

But now she realized—the dog wasn't reacting to her at all. "Doreah" had been standing beside her the whole time. The dog had sensed her assassin's identity, but both she and the young Unsullied had misunderstood its warning.

"Your Grace, are... are you alright?" Moments later, the young Unsullied arrived, leading the gray-coated dog at a brisk pace.

The boy had been left speechless the first time he saw Dany bathed in flames. Now, his gray dog huddled close to his legs, seemingly intimidated—perhaps by the three dragons lounging nearby.

Meanwhile, Blackfyre had finished recovering. After its soul returned to its body, the dragon struggled free from the sea and took flight again.

Seeing that Blackfyre was unharmed, Mormont remained on the city walls to command the ongoing battle. He stayed until nightfall, when the last enemy ship finally disappeared from sight.

"I'm fine. Your name is Ironhead, correct?" Dany said with a smile.

"Yes, Your Grace. I am called Ironhead."

"Your dog, Tinker Bell—before I returned today, did he see Doreah?"

"No, Your Grace. The guards at the palace's north gate rotate in three shifts: morning, afternoon, and evening. Since I'm still young, the captain doesn't assign me to night duty. I've been working the midday shift, leaving after sunset."

"Doreah was in the first-floor hall this morning, watching the citizens settle disputes," Missandei quickly added. "She had lunch with me at noon and didn't return to the upper floors in the afternoon."

"When was the last time you saw Doreah?" Dany asked Ironhead.

Without hesitation, the boy replied, "The evening before last. She sat with me on the stone steps, feeding Tinker Bell. She really liked him."

"The evening before last... the day I left." Dany frowned in thought.

The firewood crackled beside her, and under the night sky, the flickering orange flames cast a warm glow on her face. Her silver-gold hair swayed in rhythm with the heat waves, making her look like a goddess of fire—beautiful, mysterious, untouchable.

"Has the treasury been checked?" Dany suddenly asked.

She had just remembered—Doreah held the key to the treasury. If the Faceless Man had taken her place, they would have also gained access to it.

"Yes, Your Grace," the squad leader replied.

"Hmph, are you sure you searched the Gold Lake thoroughly?" Dany asked coolly.

"This—"

"Search it again. And bring Ironhead and his dog with you."

Dany had seized over ten million gold dragons from the slave masters. Gold dragons were Westerosi currency, but Slaver's Bay used golden honors instead. In other words, her treasury contained over forty million golden honors.

The number of silver honors exceeded five hundred million, while copper coins weren't even worthy of entering her vault.

The exact number was never counted; it was merely estimated by weight.

The vast pile of gold and silver resembled a shimmering lake—not only large enough to swim in but deep enough to row a small boat across.

"Found her, Your Grace! Miss Doreah was buried beneath the coins."

It had only taken a quarter of an hour. Two Unsullied carried a body, still faintly twitching, to the fire.

"Doreah! No, don't die!" Ironhead clutched Doreah's hand, wailing. Tinker Bell paced anxiously beside him, letting out sorrowful whimpers.

Doreah wasn't entirely gone yet. Her forehead and neck were wrapped tightly in white cloth, leaving only her nostrils exposed. Faint streaks of crimson seeped through the bandages, emitting a light scent of blood mixed with medicine.

Anesthetic? Painkillers? Disinfectants?

Dany instantly grasped the Faceless Man's intent: a corpse would soon begin to rot, and not even a mountain of gold could mask the stench. Yet the assassin had no way of knowing when she would return.

Doreah's chest still rose and fell, but her breath was shallow—more exhalation than inhalation.

"Bring her here," Dany called to the Unsullied, tears welling in her eyes.

The moment they left her cheeks, the tears evaporated in the heat of the fire.

"She might still be saved," Jorah hesitated.

"She can't be saved," Dany said sorrowfully. "It's better to let her find peace."

"But maybe she could tell us—"

"No need," Dany interrupted, shaking her head.

Perhaps, with enough external stimulus, Doreah could be briefly revived to reveal what had happened after she was captured.

But Dany already knew—there was no doubt that the Faceless Man had tortured her, extracting every detail about both Dany and Doreah herself.

What was the point of making her suffer further?

Her lips were already flayed.

The Unsullied, braving the roaring flames, placed Doreah in Dany's arms. After a moment's hesitation, the squad leader drew his short sword and placed it on Doreah's abdomen.

Crackle...

Doreah's Lyseni gown ignited in the fire. Holding her tightly with her left arm, Dany grasped the sword in her right, pressing the tip against her throat.

"Doreah, you—" Dany abruptly turned her head and drove the blade forward.

Ssst!

Blood spurted onto the burning coals, sizzling into a plume of acrid white smoke.

Dany saw a swirl of multicolored essence drift from Doreah's body, forming a vague silhouette in the night sky.

It smiled and waved at her.

"Khaleesi, take care. Goodbye."

(End of Chapter)

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