14: Chapter 14 List

The next day. The port of Qarth.

The Thirteen were all present, every one of them looking ashen-faced. Xaro knelt at the very front, holding a contract in his hands.

Thirteen ocean-going vessels, fully loaded with supplies, navigators, and sailors.

Daenerys Targaryen stood on the dock with Drogon on her shoulder, while the other two dragons circled in the sky above. She did not take the contract, looking coldly at The Thirteen.

"Do you think this is enough?"

Drogon spread his wings at the perfect moment and let out a yawn.

A stream of scorching Dragon Breath sent a trail of sparks into the air.

Xaro shivered.

"There's more! There is also all of my personal wealth! I, Xaro, am willing to offer everything to the Mother of Dragons! Including my family's three-generation collection of dragon glass—all of it—as a tribute to Lord Drogon!"

Drogon's slit pupils lit up instantly.

He took flight, circling above Xaro's head.

"Hmm. Now that is a proper attitude."

He lowered his head, looking at Xaro.

"You there—move everything onto my ship. Remember, if even one item is missing, I'll come to your new home to have a little chat."

A small puff of flame leaked from his mouth.

"My Dragon Breath has been lacking a target to practice on lately."

Xaro's face turned from white to green.

Daenerys Targaryen's mouth twitched.

"You greedy little rascal."

The ship's cabin was stacked with two large chests of gold coins and jewelry.

Drogon lay in the pile of treasure, stroking each piece one by one. The gold coins were cold. The gems were hard. The dragon glass was warm. He used his claws to pick out the dragon glass and put it in a separate pile. Xaro's family had collected over fifty standard pieces of dragon glass over three generations, enough for him to boost his bloodline to five hundred.

A satisfied purr rumbled in his throat.

Daenerys Targaryen sat by the window, having removed her crown, her long hair falling loose. Her face was etched with exhaustion, but when she looked out at The Thirteen ships, her eyes were shining.

Drogon glanced at her, then back at the contents of the chest.

He picked out a hair accessory. It was rimmed with rubies, crafted by Qarth artisans. It wasn't the most expensive one, but the color matched his scales.

He took flight and landed on the back of Daenerys Targaryen's chair.

He extended a claw, clumsily hooking a strand of her hair.

His dragon scales kept catching her hair.

The first attempt tugged painfully on Daenerys Targaryen.

She hissed in pain. Drogon froze.

"Don't move," he grumbled. "This red matches the color of my scales. I can't do it if you keep moving."

Daenerys Targaryen didn't speak. She kept her body still, her shoulders trembling slightly.

Drogon continued. His large claw held the small hair accessory, his movements even more careful than when practicing Dragon Breath. He hooked a strand, clipped it on crookedly, and tried again. It was crooked again. He tried once more.

"Women are so troublesome... such a small thing. There, it's done."

The hair accessory was clipped crookedly into her hair.

It didn't look good, but Daenerys Targaryen didn't take it off.

She reached out, took Drogon down from the back of the chair, and held him in her arms, resting her chin on his head.

"Thank you."

Her voice was a bit hoarse.

Drogon found a comfortable position in her arms and closed his eyes.

"What are you thanking me for? It's just an investment. Once you sit on the iron throne—all the gem mines in Westeros will have to be mine."

Daenerys Targaryen laughed, her chest vibrating gently.

Drogon listened to her heartbeat. Thump. Thump. Thump.

Just like the day he hatched.

Dawn.

A nautical chart was spread out on the table. Jorah's finger poked at it.

"Astapor. The easternmost city of Slavers Bay. The 'Great Masters' control the most well-trained army in Westeros—eight thousand Unsullied."

He looked at Daenerys Targaryen.

"Buy them, and you will have the land military capital to contend with the iron throne."

Daenerys Targaryen frowned.

"Buying an army... this feels wrong."

Drogon lay on his treasure chest. He crunched a piece of dragon glass, chewed, and swallowed, not even lifting his head.

"Mother, don't be foolish. Go first. If they trade fairly, we'll pay. If they dare to play any tricks—"

Crunch. He crunched another one.

"Then we take both the people and the goods. The Unsullied will be yours. The treasure in the city—"

He licked the dragon glass shards from the corner of his mouth.

"Mine."

Jorah: "..."

Daenerys Targaryen: "..."

Silence.

Then Daenerys Targaryen sighed. The kind of sigh that said, "I knew it."

"Set sail. Destination, Astapor."

"Ding! Main quest updated: 'Head to Slavers Bay · Astapor'. Quest objective: Obtain the Unsullied legion. Reward: Full unlock of the Talent Tree."

Drogon narrowed his eyes.

The Talent Tree. Eight thousand Unsullied. And the Great Masters' treasury.

He finished chewing the last piece of dragon glass and let out a comfortable burp.

The fleet sailed out of the port of Qarth.

Drogon lay on the bow of the ship. The sea breeze was salty. It was different from the wind on the grasslands. The wind on the grasslands was dry and hot; the sea breeze was moist and cool.

Daenerys Targaryen stood beside him, looking out at the edge of the horizon.

"Drogon."

"Hmm."

"You said you are my dragon. Always."

"Hmm."

"Then always it shall be."

Drogon tilted his head to look at her.

Her face was bright under the starlight. Not the brightness of gold. It was something else.

He didn't ask. He just wrapped his tail around her wrist.

In the distance, in the direction of Slavers Bay, it was pitch black.

As black as Drogon's scales.