Game of Thrones: Reign of the Dragonking
[143] Departures and Deceptions

Chapter 143: Departures and Deceptions

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The morning sun painted King's Landing in shades of gold and amber, transforming the usually grim city into something almost beautiful. I walked arm-in-arm with Daenerys down the Street of Steel, where her transformed beauty drew stares from every corner. The scales woven into her black gown caught the sunlight, creating patterns that mesmerized the smallfolk who pressed against shop fronts to watch us pass.

"Your Grace! Fresh bread for the Dragon King!" A baker called out, his voice carrying genuine warmth rather than the fear I'd grown accustomed to.

Children who'd been playing with wooden swords froze at our approach, then one brave soul, a girl no older than six, waved shyly. Daenerys smiled, the expression softening her draconic features into something almost maternal.

"They don't flee," she murmured, violet eyes scanning the cleaner streets, the well-fed faces. "In Meereen, the masters' children would scatter like rats at my approach. I think even the normal children would, now that I look like a monster."

"You are a dragon, not a monster. And fear has its uses," I replied, nodding to a group of gold cloaks who snapped to attention. "But a kingdom built on terror alone crumbles the moment you show weakness. These people have bread in their bellies and coin in their pockets. Amazing what a difference that makes."

She pointed her chin toward the distant ruins of the Dragonpit, her expression growing melancholy. "I was born in that fortress during a storm, yet this baker's shop feels more real to me than any birthright." Her fingers tightened on my arm. "The weight of their hope, brother... it's heavier than any chain I broke in Meereen."

She's learning the true burden of rule. Good.

"Under Robert, this street would be ankle-deep in filth and despair," she said, gesturing to the clean cobblestones. "I… must commend you for your ruling. Not even a few months sitting on the throne, you’ve made sure they have bread, clean water, and justice that doesn't depend on bribes. Small things, perhaps, but—"

"Everything," I finished. "Hope is a currency, and I’m mining it expertly."

We walked in comfortable silence for a while, her hips swaying with that odd predatory grace she'd developed since her transformation. Men stumbled over themselves trying not to stare, while their wives shot her looks of envy mixed with fear.

Power and beauty, a combination as old as time itself.

Finally, she stopped near a fountain depicting Baelor the Blessed, her expression growing resolute. "This has been a pleasant evening, brother. I've seen our home and stood beside you in the throne room. It's been... more than I ever allowed myself to dream." 

“Dreams have become reality for House Targaryen, sister.”

She turned to face me fully, and I could see the decision already made in those violet depths. "King’s Landing is beautiful, growing even more so. I’m certain you’d rule it better than most. But… I can’t be a pretty doll standing by you, brother. Now, I have a home of my own to protect, and ambitions as well. The Masters are broken, but the people of Meereen need their Queen to see them through the peace."

I nodded. "I’ve held you here for quite a bit, yes. It's time for you to return."

A sad smile played on her lips. Her tone, the next words she spoke, made me turn my head as if I’d heard the voice of the young, sweet Dany. "Will you miss me, brother?"

"...Like a sword arm to a swordsman," I admitted, surprising her with the honesty. "But you're right. Your cities need you."

"And yours needs you." She reached up, her fingers, still human despite everything else, brushing my cheek. She hesitated, knowing the eyes on us, before placing a kiss on my cheek. "Send a raven when you need me. I'll come."

"I know. I know you will."

We embraced briefly, and I felt the heat radiating from her transformed body, the power thrumming beneath her skin. When we pulled apart, there was understanding in her eyes. We were two halves of the same coin in this world, destined to rule apart – for now – but forever bound by blood and fire.

The dragons fly alone, but never truly leave the sky.

****

Days later, Daenerys was gone. The roar of Drogon fading into the eastern sky had left a silence in the Red Keep that felt profound. I found myself standing on the battlements more often, my gaze drifting east, a strange emptiness echoing in my chest. 

My bloodkin, the only person close to being my “equal” in this world, was gone.

But a king had no time for loneliness.

The wind atop the Eyrie could freeze a man's blood, but after flying through clouds on Viserion's back, it felt like a gentle breeze. My dragon gently landed on a nearby peak, her golden scales glittering against the snow, announcing to any onlookers that the realm’s ruler was here.

Below, chaos erupted as knights and soldiers scrambled to surround me, their swords drawn but their hands trembling. “What fast response,” I said. Viserion's low growl echoed off the mountain walls, and several men actually dropped their weapons.

"You fools! Why are you surrounding him?!"

Lysa Arryn burst onto the scene like an overfed peacock, her son Robin trailing behind her. Even from a distance, I could see the boy's sickly pallor, the way he clung to his mother's skirts despite being far too old for such behavior.

Still breastfeeding at his age, from what I remember from the show. No wonder he looks half-dead.

Lysa herself was... unfortunate. Where her sister Catelyn had aged gracefully, Lysa looked like someone had left her in water too long—bloated, pale, with wild eyes that spoke of madness barely contained. Her dress, cut to emphasize breasts that had clearly seen better days, only made the comparison to Catelyn more stark.

She was one of the uglier ruling Ladies of the realm.

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"Your Grace!" She attempted a curtsey that nearly sent her tumbling. "You should have sent a raven! We would have prepared a proper welcome!"

This woman had all the political acumen of a brick. "My visit is a matter of state, Lady Arryn, not ceremony." I let my voice carry the edge of dragon fire. "I'm here for Petyr Baelish. Where is he?"

Her face went through a series of expressions—shock, fear, then something almost like cunning. "Lord Baelish? Oh, he did visit after my dear Jon's passing..." She clutched at her breast dramatically, the gesture making her flesh spill over her neckline in a way that was more grotesque than alluring. "But as I’ve reported to you in your letter before, he isn’t in the Vale. Who knows where he went after you took the throne, scared that you’d have his head? I- I did hear him talk about having urgent business in Essos! Something about trade ventures…"

Lying. I knew that, it was obvious. She was a good liar for having fooled Lord Arryn for years before, but since she was nervous before the Dragonking, and because I knew what type of person she was, it was easy to see through her. But the real question was whether she was hiding him in this castle or if he truly fled.

"How convenient," I said, watching her fidget. "And he left no word of when he might return?"

"I have his farewell letter! He apologized to me and fled one morning." She practically shrieked, then caught herself. "That is... I’m curious, your Grace, what has Pe- Lord Baelish done so bad that you’re hunting him?"

Robin chose that moment to whine. "Mother, I'm cold. Can we go inside? I don't like the dragon."

"Hush, sweetling." She pulled him against her side, and I had to suppress a grimace at the way he buried his face in her bosom.

Littlefinger hiding… He probably isn’t anywhere in Westeros. But if he’s in Essos... could he be collaborating with Tywin's remnants? Or is she simply buying time?

I studied her desperate eyes, the way her free hand kept smoothing her dress, trying to make herself presentable. A realization struck me like lightning.

She was the key.

This pathetic, love-starved woman held much of Littlefinger's secrets, his plans, his networks. Not everything, but enough to matter. She'd spill it all for the right incentive, and I knew exactly what that incentive was.

My demeanor shifted, ice melting into something warmer. I took her trembling hand, noting how her breath caught at the contact. "Forgive my bluntness, Lady Arryn. The journey was long, and I fear I've been misinformed."

"Oh…" Her eyes went wide, pupils dilating as her nervousness grew. What could the Dragonking want with her, she must be curious. "Think nothing of it, Your Grace!"

"Perhaps," I said, letting my thumb brush across her knuckles, "since I’m here anyhow, you and I could discuss the Vale's governance over a private dinner? I'm sure there's much you could teach me about ruling such a unique kingdom."

The relief that bloomed in her eyes was almost pitiful. Here was a woman so desperate to compare with her sister, so desperate for affection, so hungry for power, that she could be manipulated more easily than a little girl.

"I- I would be honored, Your Grace…" She said nervously, unsure what the lecherous Dragon King would do to her when her dear lover wasn’t around.

Oh, you definitely will be once I’m done with you. I allowed myself a cold smile as she turned around to shout at her guards to prepare dinner. Littlefinger might have fled, but he'd left his greatest weakness behind.

Through her, I'd unravel every secret he'd ever whispered in the dark. At least the ones a pawn like her could know.

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