Game of Thrones: Rise of the Supreme Dragon Queen

"You're not dead?!"

In the dim, decaying stone chamber, the faceless one—devoid of a face—spoke in disbelief.

A young woman in her early twenties stood before her. Bald, her left eye was swollen into a purplish lump, with a mangled eyeball leaking black blood from its socket. Her nose, forehead, cheeks, and chin were covered in bruises and cuts. Several teeth were missing, making her words whistle slightly when she spoke.

The Unsullied hadn't tortured her—those injuries on her face were from yesterday when Dany had stomped her with an iron boot.

The assassination attempt had happened the day before. Now, it was the morning after the naval battle.

Despite the bruises, Dany could make out that the assassin's original face was unremarkable—rough skin, pale with a sickly yellow tinge, resembling the countless weary and indifferent women struggling to survive in the streets.

Her features had the distinct sharpness of Westerosi ancestry, but nothing stood out—her nose was neither high nor low, her lips neither full nor thin, her eyes of average size, and her eyebrows of medium thickness.

A square-shaped, plain face. Her right eye, which remained intact, was a dull blue—unlike Doreah's striking, ocean-deep blue.

"You were stabbed in the back, even if the wound wasn't deep. But the poison should have reached your heart. A blend of basilisk venom and manticore toxin, enhanced with blood magic—strong enough to kill even the toughest gladiator within the time it takes to finish a cup of tea."

"How are you still alive?" The female assassin widened her single eye, scrutinizing Dany, who was now dressed in a flowing purple silk gown.

Her silver hair was braided into small plaits, tied back to expose her smooth forehead. Her delicate heart-shaped face was radiant, her eyes sharp—showing no sign of someone who had been poisoned and on the brink of death.

"You don't know about this?" Dany opened her palm, revealing a purple crystal and holding it up before the assassin.

"What is that?" the assassin asked.

"Hah, it seems the Faceless Men aren't as omniscient as they claim to be. You didn't even gather the most basic intelligence." Dany sneered.

"You—" The assassin's face twisted in anger, but she quickly calmed down. Like a monk reciting a sacred mantra, she lowered her gaze and whispered, "Valar Morghulis."

A sharp glint flashed in Dany's eyes—so, she truly was a Faceless One. She had just admitted it.

After a long pause, the Faceless Woman raised her head again and slowly asked, "What did someone overlook?"

"Before leaving Qarth, the esteemed Xaro Xhoan Daxos gifted me a magical amethyst necklace that could neutralize poison. Later, I removed the crystal from the necklace and had it crafted into a hairpin, which I always wear."

Dany's tone remained indifferent. "At first, I was indeed poisoned. But while this so-called magical amethyst isn't as miraculous as Xaro claimed, it still gradually expelled the toxins from my body through the wound."

"Impossible!" The assassin tensed, her disbelief evident. "Only highly skilled Red Priests can craft poison-resistant crystals. And even they must first prophesy what specific toxin they will encounter within a day, then prepare an antidote or magical defense accordingly.

The legend of these 'poison-warding crystals' has been grossly misunderstood and exaggerated. They cannot possibly counteract every poison.

I knew about the amethyst Xaro gave you long ago. But even if it were a genuine magical crystal, you are not a Red Priestess. Otherwise, you would have foreseen this assassination attempt, and I wouldn't have been able to wound you at all."

So that's how it is. No wonder this damn crystal had been useless. Dany cursed Xaro a thousand times over in her mind.

And yet, she had still been wearing it all these days.

But in truth, it didn't matter how lethal the venom of a basilisk or manticore was—they were both biological toxins.

At the core, they were just proteins. And any protein exposed to temperatures of eight or nine hundred degrees would lose its structure.

Dany's cells, neurons, spinal cord, teeth, red blood cells, white blood cells—even the amino acids and glucose in her bloodstream—could all withstand extreme heat. But anything harmful to her body? It burned away.

Which was why she often used fire to sterilize wounds, kill mites, and remove dead skin and calluses.

Aside from its cosmetic benefits, it also aided digestion, increased cellular activity, and improved nutrient absorption.

Higher temperatures meant higher molecular activity—it was basic science!

When her body temperature rose to two hundred degrees, the basilisk venom and manticore toxin, once lethal, simply broke down into amino acids and were absorbed into her system.

Of course, she wouldn't be telling the assassin that. The Unsullied present at the time had also been ordered to keep silent.

Better for her enemies to believe they could poison her than to force them to resort to beheading or cutting out her heart.

"Believe what you will. My magic crystal does work. Xaro himself relied on it to survive multiple assassination attempts by the Qartheen nobility," Dany said flatly.

Without waiting for a response, she pocketed the crystal and continued, "Who hired you?"

"You think someone would know?" the assassin scoffed.

"As a Faceless One, you don't even know who your employer is?" Dany frowned in doubt.

"Hah. The Mother of Dragons lived in Braavos for years. Did you really think the House of Black and White has only one acolyte?" The assassin smirked.

It was a fair point. The Faceless Men were the world's most notorious assassins, operating openly on a global scale. They had to have powerful backers, and their internal structure had to be airtight.

The assassin might be telling the truth—she was merely a tool executing a task. She likely had no idea who had placed the order or why they wanted Dany dead.

Just like Arya Stark in Game of Thrones.

"What's your name?" Dany shifted tactics.

"I was once called 'Doreah.' Now, I am 'no one.'" The assassin's lips curled into an eerie smile.

Dany's gaze sharpened. Coldly, she asked, "Then, have you ever used the name 'Madam Kety'?"

A chilling, low laugh bubbled from the Faceless One. "The fat cook from the Seafront Street?"

"Yes," she grinned wickedly. "I was also Madam Kety."

A stranger could never have gotten close to Doreah.

So last night, Dany had ordered a full inspection of every servant within the Great Pyramid. The result? A cook named Kety had mysteriously disappeared.

Clearly, the Faceless One had infiltrated Astapor, taken the place of the cook, and used that identity to approach Doreah. Once that objective was achieved, 'Kety' was discarded.

As for poisoning food?

Just as few kings in history had been assassinated with poison, Barristan Selmy had long established a strict food-testing protocol for Dany.

"You're a Faceless One. Why are you working with outsiders?" Dany asked.

"Cooperation?" The female assassin grinned, revealing a mouth missing several teeth, and sneered, "The Faceless Men have no partners, but they can use anyone's strength to accomplish their tasks."

Dany couldn't help but think of Arya Stark's 'old acquaintance,' Jaqen H'ghar. He had once been captured in King's Landing and imprisoned in the Black Cells along with two other criminals. But his identity as a Faceless Man had remained unknown, and he had merely used the two brutes as a cover for his real purpose.

"Do you even know who you're working with?" Dany asked.

The female assassin smirked triumphantly. "You should ask that person instead—ask if they even know who their 'partner' really is. Hahaha."

"Then, about the three dragon eggs from my treasury—Euron only knew about one. What about the other two?" Dany asked calmly.

At first, the Unsullied hadn't even realized the dragon eggs were missing. Later, after Dany prompted them to check again, they returned to the treasury to search for Doreah, who had been buried under heaps of gold. That was when they discovered, to their horror, that the queen's dragon eggs had vanished as well.

The assassin studied Dany's expression carefully and asked in surprise, "You lost three dragon eggs, yet you remain so calm?"

Because all three eggs were fake.

Dany had never discarded the fragments of the eggs she had hatched before. Later, in Qarth, she encountered a merchant from Asshai who specialized in selling counterfeit dragon eggs. Inspired by his methods, she had painstakingly glued the broken stone eggs back together, even altering their colors.

The brass-colored dragon egg she had used to trade for the Unsullied had been a fake. Even Euron himself hadn't realized it.

Initially, not even Dany's three naive handmaidens had known about the deception. She hadn't been sure who she might need to fool next or when she might sell the fakes for profit. Their reactions in the moment could have given away the trick.

But after conquering Astapor—where the Masters fell and she prospered—Dany no longer needed to con anyone for money. The three worthless stone eggs were simply tossed into the treasury, lying among dozens of chests filled with gemstones.

Meanwhile, the brass dragon egg seized from Euron had been kept in Dany's bedroom. She held it every night as she slept, waiting for it to hatch.

Doreah, of course, knew which egg was real and which ones were fake. But evidently, the Lysene handmaiden was no fool—she had one last trick up her sleeve before her death. Or rather, the one who wanted the dragon egg must have been Euron.

That man wasn't just obsessed with the Dragonbinder horn—he also refused to let go of the brass dragon egg.

And why not? A dragonbinder and a young dragon—a perfect match!

Too bad…

Dany sneered inwardly, but outwardly, she remained calm and indifferent. "I can barely control three dragons. What use would I have for more wild ones?

Besides, the cost of hatching a dragon is too great. It requires sacrificing the soul of one's closest kin, exchanging it in the realm of the dead for the spirit of a dragon long gone. Just like my black dragon—he is Balerion reborn."

As she spoke, a trace of sorrow flickered across her face. In a soft, grieving voice, she added, "If I had a choice, I would rather not have a single dragon."

Dany's performance moved the Faceless Woman. With dawning realization, the assassin murmured, "No wonder you kept the dragon eggs locked away in a chest, ignoring them all this time. The eggs were not my mission target. They were all placed in the garden along with the horn and taken by that person."

"Alright, you've answered my questions, and I've told you quite a few secrets as well. Now, your value has been reduced to just one thing." Dany raised a single finger and said coldly, "Tell me the secrets of the Faceless Men, and I might let you live."

"Hehehe, all men must die," the assassin sneered, closing her one remaining eye in defiance.

"I hope you can endure till the end. Hattar, take good care of her."

Clap! Clap! Clap! A towering, muscular man emerged from the shadows, grinning wickedly. "Your Majesty, there's no mouth in this world that the Devil's Tail cannot pry open!"

Dany didn't waste any more time on the Faceless One—there were still thousands of sailors waiting to be recruited at the docks.

Last night, before the Ghiscari fleet had fled, they had sent signals to the sailors gathered at the docks. Thousands of men had immediately swarmed toward the sea, trying to escape.

The sailors hadn't intended to attack Astapor. Most of them had been thrown overboard earlier and had simply swum back to the docks—not to mount an assault on the city, as they lacked even basic weapons. How could they possibly scale the six-to-seven-meter-high city walls?

Their real fear had been climbing aboard friendly ships only to be caught in another dragonfire bombardment.

Of course, they also refused to surrender to Dany. So when the night fell and the fleet departed, they tried to swim back to their ships.

The Ghiscari had planned well. The dark night concealed the moving ships, rendering the dragonfire bombs ineffective.

But Dany had anticipated this. Her three dragons were immediately refitted with new payloads—clusters of pottery bombs, each the size of a beer bottle, strung together like a bunch of grapes.

Soaring five hundred meters above the sea, the dragons spotted the enemy fleet. The "grape bombs" rained down in a scattershot pattern. Some bottles inevitably struck the sails, setting the ships ablaze.

As a result, the Ghiscari fleet not only failed to rescue their stranded sailors, but they also lost another seven or eight ships in the process.

Their greed had cost them dearly. At dusk, after the Black Dread fell into the sea, all three dragons had ceased their attacks for a while. If the Ghiscari had fled then, they could have rescued at least eighty percent of the stranded sailors.

But instead of retreating, they assumed Dany was dead and launched their fiercest assault on the city walls. That was why Jorah, despite fearing for Dany's safety, had held his ground for half an hour before finally retreating from the battlefield.

As for Dany? She had regained consciousness after only a few minutes. The three dragons, sensing their mother's condition, had immediately regrouped under Drogon's lead and returned to the docks—resuming their role as bombers.

(End of Chapter)

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