Viserys's blood was washed away by dawn the next day.
Daenerys sat on a soft couch on the terrace, holding the young dragon named Nightfury in her arms.
The little one slept soundly, its dark scales gleaming softly in the morning light, and the blood-red pattern on its back looked like an unhealed scar.
With every breath, its tiny chest would gently rise and fall, and two faint wisps of white smoke would puff from its nostrils.
Daenerys gently stroked it, feeling the warmth and vitality emanating from her palm.
She knew this young dragon was bought with her brother's life.
But there was no sorrow in her heart, only the calm of a settled dust.
The old Targaryen had died, dead in Viserys's madness and folly.
And she, together with Lynn, would usher in a new era.
"Queen."
Missandei's voice came from behind her, holding a plate of sliced fruit and a bowl of warm goat's milk.
Daenerys came back to her senses and smiled at her.
She had grown accustomed to this title by now.
Ever since Lynn announced in the council hall that she would be responsible for Astapor's internal affairs, everyone, including Jorah Mormont, had begun to address her as Queen.
Everyone knew Lynn's ambition.
The title of Queen was only a matter of time.
She looked out the window.
The former Plaza of Punishment was now the busiest place in the city.
Countless artisans toiled by the furnaces, forging new armor for the Unsullied.
In the streets, the Free Folk, guided by the Unsullied, lined up to receive food and clear the ruins left by the war.
Everything was orderly and full of vibrant life.
Grey Worm, the new Unsullied commander, was doing better than anyone imagined.
He was taciturn but possessed an iron will and astonishing execution ability.
He carried out every one of Lynn's orders without fail, and often did even better.
He divided the eight thousand Unsullied into several large units.
Some were responsible for city defense and patrols, some for maintaining order, and some of the most loyal Unsullied were sent to the sugarcane fields outside the city to expand white sugar production.
Daenerys knew that behind all this was Lynn's doing.
Lynn had planned everything for this city.
And she and Grey Worm only needed to execute Lynn's plan.
Just then, Jorah Mormont walked in hurriedly.
"Queen."
He first bowed to Daenerys, then said with a solemn expression.
"Magister Illyrio's fleet has departed and is expected to arrive in about a month."
"Now the relationship between Pentos and Meereen is like fire and water."
"But we won't have to worry about food for now."
Daenerys's heart skipped a beat.
She didn't need to consider other matters.
But if the problem was solved, that meant… She instinctively looked up at the entrance of the hall.
Lynn walked out from inside.
He had changed into a fitted outfit, black leather armor outlining his tall figure, and at his waist hung the wolf-headed Valyrian steel sword, along with the eerie dark sister.
Behind him followed two Unsullied.
One of them held a wooden box wrapped in black cloth.
Daenerys's heart sank sharply.
"So soon?" She stood up.
"Illyrio is a clever merchant; he knows time is money."
Lynn walked up to her and reached out to tuck a wisp of silver hair, disheveled by the wind, behind her ear.
"I'm leaving, Dany."
Although she had expected it, when these words truly came from Lynn's mouth, Daenerys's eyes couldn't help but redden.
"Can't you… stay a few more days?"
She clutched Lynn's sleeve, her voice carrying a hint of pleading.
"There are still many things waiting for me to deal with in Westeros."
Lynn looked at her.
"And our sugar also needs to find buyers as soon as possible."
"My Lord."
Jorah Mormont couldn't help but speak up from the side, his face full of worry.
"For you to return like this… it's too dangerous."
"You are the King-Beyond-the-Wall."
"You allowed hundreds of thousands of Free Folk inside the Wall, an act sufficient to make all the lords of the Seven Kingdoms see you as a thorn in their side."
"What's more…"
Jorah glanced at Daenerys, then at longclaw at Lynn's waist, and lowered his voice.
"You now also possess Winter, the Unsullied army, and you even married a Targaryen."
"Although Westeros may not be aware of what has happened here."
"But once these matters spread, your situation, My Lord, will be perilous!"
"You bringing back Viserys's head might temporarily reassure King Robert."
"But do you think he would allow a vassal, whose achievements overshadow his lord and who wields power capable of overturning the entire kingdom, to live much longer?"
Every word Jorah spoke resonated with Daenerys.
She realized that Lynn's current situation was a hundred times more dangerous than she had imagined.
He stood almost alone against the entire noble class of Westeros.
"Robert…"
A playful smile appeared on Lynn's face.
"He probably doesn't have time to worry about me right now."
"That old lion of House Lannister is far more of a headache for him than I, the Direwolf of the North."
"As for danger…"
Lynn's gaze swept over Jorah.
"Ser Jorah, which do you think is more dangerous, swords or gold?"
Jorah was startled, not understanding Lynn's meaning.
"Swords can only kill enemies, but gold can turn enemies into friends."
Lynn patted his shoulder.
"I'm not just going back to see Robert this time."
"I'm going to do business."
"I want every dining table in the Seven Kingdoms to be laden with Astapor's white sugar."
"I want those noblewomen to squabble over a small bag of white sugar, and I want those great lords to fawn over me to monopolize a trade route."
"When they can't live without my sugar, do you think they'll still care whether I'm the King-Beyond-the-Wall or not?"
Jorah Mormont's mind reeled.
He looked at Lynn's calm face.
This man before him, his weapons were never just those three great dragons.
His wisdom was far more deadly than dragonfire.
"Then here…"
Daenerys looked at him worriedly.
"Here, I leave it to you."
Lynn turned, placed his hands on Daenerys's shoulders, and looked earnestly into her eyes.
"You are my wife, and also the mistress of Astapor."
"Grey Worm will obey your commands; eight thousand Unsullied are your sword."
"Ser Jorah will assist you, and Illyrio will become your most reliable ally."
Daenerys looked into Lynn's dark eyes, which were filled with trust and expectation.
A surge of strength rose from deep within her heart.
She nodded vigorously, but tears still unbiddenly streamed down her face.
"I will."
"I will protect our city and wait for your return."
Lynn smiled.
He lowered his head and lightly pressed his lips to Daenerys's.
No lingering, only a promise.
"Grey Worm."
Lynn released Daenerys and turned to the silent commander.
"Yes, My Lord."
"You must protect her well."
"With my life." Grey Worm's answer was concise and solemn.
Lynn said no more.
He turned and strode towards the harbor.
Without looking back.
Daenerys stood on the terrace, watching the dark figure walk further and further away, finally disappearing at the edge of the city.
The sea breeze dried the tears on her face and also dispersed the last trace of weakness in her heart… Daenerys's heart skipped a beat.
She didn't need to consider other matters.
But if the problem was solved, then… "Then, are you leaving?" She looked up, Lynn's figure reflected in her violet eyes, with a hint of imperceptible panic.
Astapor was on the right track, the sugar business was enough to break the blockade, and Illyrio's fleet was about to bring hope. Everything was getting better, so good that it felt unreal.
She was afraid this was just a fleeting beautiful dream. When she woke up, he would leave without a word, just like he did in Winterfell.
Lynn smiled and pulled her into his arms, letting her feel his steady heartbeat.
"I need to go back for a while; there are still some matters to deal with in Westeros."
Daenerys's body stiffened for a moment.
"But here, you are needed."
"You are their Missa, the Queen of this Free City."
"Before I return, you must learn how to rule."
He entrusted Astapor to her, along with that heavy burden of trust and responsibility.
Daenerys looked up, meeting Lynn's eyes.
She saw anticipation and affirmation in those deep eyes.
She was no longer the little girl at Viserys's mercy.
She nodded vigorously… Half a month later.
Winter's massive wings cut through the clouds, with the boundless Narrow Sea below.
Continuous flight for half a month, even for a dragon, was a huge drain.
Winter's three heads looked a bit listless, only perking up when fishing.
Finally, the familiar coastline of the continent of Westeros appeared at the edge of the horizon.
Lynn did not fly directly to King's Landing.
The "King" in the Red Keep would not welcome a dragon that could freeze him, his men, and his castle into an ice sculpture.
He landed on an uninhabited island outside Blackwater Bay.
"Stay here and wait for me to return."
"If you get hungry, go find something to eat yourself, but don't make too much noise."
Lynn patted Winter's massive head.
Winter let out a low growl and rubbed its head against Lynn.
Lynn changed into ordinary traveler's clothes, boarded a passing fishing boat, and blended into King's Landing.
King's Landing was still the same.
The air was still filled with that complex smell of human urine, horse dung, and rotten fish.
People came and went on the streets; beggars and prostitutes were everywhere.
Gold Cloaks patrolled the streets.
Everything was just as it had been when he left.
Lynn did not go to the Red Keep, nor did he look for Varys or Sansa.
He strolled through the city, passing through the dirty, muddy alleys of Flea Bottom, and past the clanging blacksmiths of Steel Street.
Finally, Lynn stopped in front of a bustling marketplace.
His gaze was drawn to a figure.
It was a girl.
She wore a clean, dark blue dress, with a few delicate flowers embroidered on the hem.
Her long black hair was no longer a messy bird's nest but was tied back with a silver hairband, looking neat and fresh.
She was standing in front of a stall selling Lysene lace.
Somewhat clumsily, she imitated other noble ladies, picking up a piece of lace and examining it carefully against the sunlight.
The sunlight filtered through the gaps in the lace, falling on her face, which had lost its childishness and become distinctly contoured.
Her skin was the pale complexion characteristic of Northerners.
Her grey eyes were still as wary and sharp as a young wolf's, but there was a hint of girlish softness at the corners of her eyes and brows.
Arya Stark.
She had grown taller, and… prettier.
Lynn looked at her, trying so hard to act like a lady yet clearly uncomfortable, and couldn't help but want to laugh.
He quietly walked up behind her.
"This fabric is nice."
A familiar voice sounded in her ear.
Arya's body stiffened abruptly.
Her fingers gripping the lace instantly tightened, and her other hand instinctively reached for her waist.
That spot was empty.
She slowly, little by little, turned around.
When she saw the familiar face behind her, those grey eyes, always as wary as a wolf's, instantly widened.
She opened her mouth but couldn't make a sound.
Shock, bewilderment, disbelief… countless emotions flashed across her small face.
Finally, all emotions converged into a hot torrent, welling up in her eyes.
"You…"
She only managed one word, her voice already tinged with a sob.
The next second, she threw herself forward recklessly, crashing into Lynn's embrace.
"You bastard!"
She buried her face in Lynn's chest, using all her strength to raise her fists and pound on Lynn's chest, blow after blow.
The force was much heavier than it appeared.
"You actually came back!"
"Don't you know… don't you know…"
Her words became incoherent, and tears, no longer controllable, soaked the front of Lynn's shirt.
Lynn said nothing, just letting her vent.
He could feel how much longing and grievance were in every punch this little girl threw at him.
Passersby and vendors around them curiously watched the strangely behaving man and woman, discussing them animatedly.
Arya also noticed the surrounding gazes.
She suddenly lifted her head from Lynn's embrace, frantically wiping the tears from her face with her sleeve, trying to resume her fierce demeanor.
But her red-rimmed eyes and nose completely betrayed her.
Lynn looked at her, trying to act nonchalant yet full of grievances, and finally couldn't help but laugh out loud.
He reached out and, as he used to, ruffled her hair.
"Alright, your makeup is all smudged from crying."
Arya's face instantly flushed red, from her cheeks all the way to her ears.
"Who… who wears makeup!"
She retorted, sticking out her neck.
"And don't touch my hair!"
Although she said that, she didn't pull away.
Lynn withdrew his hand, his gaze falling on her new dress, and he pretended to be surprised as he looked her up and down.
"Tsk tsk, this is rare."
"Our little wolf girl from Winterfell actually knows how to wear a dress now?"
"It seems the food in King's Landing is good; it's made you… well, a little more feminine."
"What nonsense are you talking about!"
Arya was both embarrassed and angry, lifting her foot to step on Lynn's, but Lynn easily dodged it.
She looked at Lynn's annoying smiling face, at the familiar tenderness and indulgence in his eyes, and the grievance she had just suppressed surged up again.
She pouted, her eyes reddening once more.
"Let's go."
Lynn took her by the wrist.
"Let's go back first."
"And while we're at it, let me see if your sword has rusted."