Seeing that Daenerys and little Shireen were no longer at odds over him, Drogon quietly let out a breath of relief and listened as they discussed the history of House Targaryen.
As Daenerys spoke, Drogon gained a deeper understanding of the forr glory of the dragonlords.
House Targaryen had once belonged to the ruling class of the Valyrian Freehold.
The Freehold had been the greatest empire on the continent of Essos, controlling vast territories — including the Nine Free Cities, Slaver's Bay, the Bay of Sorrows, the islands around the Sumr Lands, and even Dragonstone off the coast of Westeros.
Valyrian civilization was the most advanced in the known world. Valyrian steel — a magical alloy — was their creation. In present-day Westeros, only a handful of smiths even knew the secrets of reforging such blades, let alone forging them anew.
More than four hundred years ago, a Targaryen with true dragonlord blood received a prophetic dragon dream, foretelling the doom of Valyria.
She persuaded her family to migrate to Dragonstone. Not long after they left, the Freehold was destroyed in a cataclysm now known as the Doom. Nearly every other dragonlord family perished. The dragons and eggs that remained in Valyria were swallowed along with the land itself.
The great Valyrian capital shattered into broken islands, forming the smoking ruins known as the Smoking Sea — a place many adventurers had tried to explore, yet few ever returned from.
One rumored exception was Euron, uncle of Theon Greyjoy, said to have ventured into the ruins and returned with a dragon-binding horn.
A century after the Doom of Valyria, Aegon the Conqueror used House Targaryen's last three dragons and an army of ten thousand n to subdue the Seven Kingdoms.
With a thousand swords taken from defeated foes, fused together by the black dread Balerion's dragonfla, he forged the Iron Throne. Thus began three hundred years of Targaryen rule over Westeros.
That rule ended when Daenerys's father, the Mad King Aerys, was slain by the Kingslayer Jai, and the usurper Robert Baratheon claid the throne.
Drogon was listening with great interest when the hall doors suddenly slamd open. An Unsullied rushed in and handed Daenerys a scroll.
The mont she saw the seal, she knew it was from one of Varys's "little birds." She opened it, read a single line — and her face drained of color.
Grey Worm has been ambushed at the western granaries.
Daenerys spun to run and summon reinforcents—only to feel a sharp sting on her shoulder as Drogon launched past her like lightning, leaving behind only one urgent thought in her mind:
Barristan!
She froze.
The ssage ntioned Grey Worm — so why had Drogon thought of Barristan?
I sent Barristan this morning to inspect grain reserves… could he be at the western granaries too?
"Send word to the Blue Pigeon! Tell him to take n to the western granaries at once!" she ordered the guard at the door.
Her heart pounded. Images flooded her mind — the aging knight who so often urged her toward rcy… Grey Worm, her steadfast commander… both in danger.
"Your Grace, should we fetch Lord Tyrion?" Shireen asked, alard by Daenerys's panic and Drogon's sudden departure.
Yes. Tyrion.
Jorah was out leading the Second Sons on intelligence work. Tyrion was the only counselor left nearby.
They hurried downstairs. Tyrion, bent over books and notes, looked up at once, sensing trouble.
After hearing the report, he spoke without hesitation.
"This ambush is only part of sothing larger. Send word to Jorah and all Unsullied units. Full city alert. The Sons of the Harpy must have other moves in play. Your Grace, you must not leave this pyramid — not until Drogon returns. Strengthen defenses imdiately."
He feared this was truly aid at her.
Daenerys had intended to ride out herself — until she realized he was right. If she left, she might walk straight into a trap.
Five hundred Unsullied were posted to guard the pyramid. Only then did she climb to the top to survey the city.
Within minutes, she saw them — dozens of golden harpy masks pouring from an alley, cutting down an Unsullied patrol. More appeared along a main road.
And after each strike, they all ran toward the Great Pyramid.
Tyrion had been right. She was the target.
Fortunately, the pyramid had been built like a fortress. Even fifteen hundred attackers would struggle to take it. The ereenese masters had designed it precisely to survive slave uprisings.
Still, she feared for Barristan… and Grey Worm.
---
Drogon streaked toward the western granaries. He knew the city well from countless strategy etings.
Grey Worm ambushed. Barristan not at Daenerys's side.
He rembered this fate — the one where Barristan died.
Not today.
In less than two minutes he reached the granaries.
Barristan stood at the corridor entrance, blood soaking his left shoulder. Four or five corpses lay nearby. Three masked attackers pressed him hard.
The old knight still fought like a legend — deflecting one blow, then skewering another assailant through the chest.
Deeper inside, Drogon saw Grey Worm. One knee on the ground. Surrounded by four enemies. Wounded badly, yet still holding them back with his spear.
The situation was seconds from disaster.
And Drogon had arrived just in ti.
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