*AEGON III — THE GRASS SEA (Fixed)*
Top of the Great Pyramid. The war table was covered in ash.
Grey Worm, Barristan, Missandei, Daenerys — and Aegon, still in his salt-stained cloak. Outside, six dragons crowded the terraces, hissing at each other.
Three black-green-gold: Drogon, Rhaegal, Viserion — Dany's.
Three black: Voidscale big as a warhorse, Aegnis with the ashblack chest, Chaosfyre Grey and savage — Aegon's, raised in the ranch behind Storm's End.
Below, in the pyramid yard, the twelve from Storm's End: Ser Cortnay, Harbert, Maester Gawen, and nine boys with swords that were too big for them, staring up at six dragons like they'd sailed into a dream.
"We have no army," Grey Worm said. "Yunkai ten thousand. Us, eight hundred Unsullied."
"We have six dragons," Barristan said.
"Six dragons that eat our horses," Missandei whispered, watching Chaosfyre fight Drogon over a goat.
Dany rubbed her eyes. "The Dothraki come. Jhaqo. Pono. They smell blood."
Aegon stood. He had been quiet since they counted the dragons.
"In Storm's End, Ser Cortnay said Aegon the Conqueror never waited," he said. "We should not wait."
"What do you mean, my prince?" Barristan asked.
Aegon pointed east, to the endless yellow-green.
"We conquer the Dothraki. Now. Before they come here."
Silence.
"We have six dragons. No Khal has ever seen one dragon. We have six. We fly to the Grass Sea, we make them kneel, we bring them back as an army."
Dany stared. "The Dothraki Sea is a world, nephew. A hundred khalasars —"
"Then we start with one," Aegon said. He switched to High Valyrian, getting better each time. "_Muña Zaldrizes, nyke gōvil jelmāzmo khalasar. Zaldrizes va moriot jelmāzmo._ Mother, you need a tide of horses. Six dragons make a tide."
Dany looked at Drogon, bleeding but alive. At Voidscale, staring at Drogon like a brother.
Then at the twelve boys from Storm's End who had crossed the world for a boy with a red katana.
She stood.
"_Kesir sōvegon arlī Āeksio ondo?_" she said loud enough for the dragons to hear. Shall we fly to the Grass Sea?
Aegon grinned. The first real grin since the ranch.
"_Sōvegon,_" he answered. "We fly."
Six dragons screamed at once.
The day after six dragons flew east, Meereen was quiet.
On the hills, Yunkai saw it.
Yurkhaz zo Yunzak climbed his palanquin, though he was dead — here it was Yezzan zo Qaggaz, fat and yellow, coughing from the Pale Mare.
"They left!" a rider shouted. "Five — no, SIX dragons left! To the Dothraki Sea!"
Yezzan smiled, teeth brown.
"Then the city is empty," he said.
Drums. Horns.
From Astapor, the Cleon loyalists brought 2,000 new Unsullied they had re-enslaved. From Volantis, 500 tiger-cloaks and 3 war galleys with red sails. From New Ghis, elephants in iron plates.
They circled Meereen.
"Tomorrow," Yezzan told his generals, "we take the city back. No dragons. No Mother. Only Barristan and some boys from Westeros."
On the walls, Ser Cortnay counted them. Twelve against ten thousand.
He put on his helm.
"For Aegon and his dragons," he muttered.
And Barristan Selmy, on the pyramid, drew his sword.
Meereen held its breath.