The sun stood high over Meereen, bright and unrelenting. Rhaego rested on the stone railing of the top balcony, legs dangling over the drop, dried meat in one hand. He chewed slowly, eyes fixed on the horizon past the city, past the bay, toward the distant shadow of Westeros.
Behind him, through the open doors, the voices of his mother and Ser Jorah drifted out calm at first, then tighter.
Rhaego glanced back once, saw his mother's posture stiffen, and saw Jorah's shoulders sag.
Then Rhaego turned forward again. North.
I wonder if my wings are strong enough to carry me across the Narrow Sea. He thought.
He flexed his shoulders. Wings unfolded slowly black, wide, catching the sunlight. He stood, balanced on the rail, tail swaying for balance.
Then he jumped.
He glided down in wide, lazy circles, wind rushing past his face, the city opening beneath him like a map. Freedmen looked up and waved, smiling at the dragon prince overhead.
Rhaego raised the hand holding the meat and waved back.
He saw the mileposts along the old road the crucified masters were gone now. Bodies taken down, buried properly at the plea of Hizdahr zo Loraq. The posts stood empty, dark silhouettes against the bright day.
Good, he thought. No more reminders.
He banked left, circling wider past the markets, past the old fighting pits, past the harbor where ships rocked gently.
Then a thought slipped in, cold and familiar:
I wonder when the Harpies will show themselves. Should I just find them first? Take them out quietly?
In the original story they were a problem for months…
He shook his head. Not yet. Mother wants to rule, not slaughter.
A movement below caught his eye.
A boy, small and quick ran up to Ser Barristan near one of the mileposts. The knight took a rolled parchment from the child's hand. Even from this height, Rhaego's sharp eyes picked out the wax seal.
King's Landing seal. Rhaego's tail stiffened.
Ser Jorah is in trouble… I was so busy doing something for the people. This is so hard which timeline I am in, that I seem to forget.
He folded his wings and dove fast, silently landing on a nearby rooftop without a sound.
Later that day, the throne room.
The great green-and-bronze chamber was lit by torches. Dany sat on the simple stone seat at the center of the high stairs, no throne, just rule. Ser Barristan stood to her left, Missandei to her right. Grey Worm waited at the foot of the stairs.
Oberyn Martell stood a little apart, arms crossed, watching silently.
Rhaego stood directly behind his mother, wings folded tight, tail still, eyes fixed on the doors. He already knew. What is about to happen.
The doors opened.
Ser Jorah Mormont stepped inside, face pale. He walked forward until he stood at the bottom of the stairs.
He stopped. Dany looked down at him. Her face was calm, too calm.
Daenerys finally spoke, breaking the silence.
"Why did the usurper pardon you?"
Jorah paused, hesitant. "If we could speak alone—"
Dany's voice cut in, eyes unyielding. "No. Speak to me here. Explain it to me."
Jorah swallowed. "Who do you think sent this to Meereen?" he said, voice low, almost pleading.
"Who profits? This is the work of Tywin Lannister. He wants to divide us. If we're fighting each other, we're not fighting him."
Dany's expression did not soften. "The pardon was signed the year we met," she said. "Why were you pardoned? Unless you're saying this document was forged."
Rhaego shifted behind her, tail flicking once, sharp.
"Mother—"
Dany's voice snapped, cold and absolute. "Quiet, Rhaego."
Rhaego froze. His tail stilled. He looked down, jaw tight but he obeyed.
Dany's eyes never left Jorah.
Jorah's mouth shook. He could not lie, not to her face, not after everything.
"It is not forged," he said, almost a whisper.
Dany rose slowly from the seat. "Why then?"
Jorah's head bowed. "I sent letters… to Varys. The spymaster of King's Landing."
Dany stepped down one stair. "What was the content of these letters?"
"Information."
"What information?"
A long pause. Jorah's voice cracked.
"When you and Viserys arrived in Pentos. His plan to marry you to Khal Drogo. When you were married. When your brother died."
Dany's eyes flashed. "You told him I was carrying Drogo's child?"
Jorah glanced at Rhaego, then back at Dany. "I…"
"Yes or no?" Dany said, unyielding.
Jorah's voice broke. "Khaleesi—"
"Don't call me that," Dany cut in, voice rising for the first time. "Did you tell him I was carrying Drogo's child? My son."
The room filled with silence.
Jorah swallowed. "Yes," he said, barely audible.
Dany stepped down another stair, now close enough to see the tears in his eyes.
"That wine merchant tried to poison me because of your information," she said. "My son would not be here right now."
Jorah's head bowed lower. "I stopped you from drinking his wine."
"Because you knew it was poisoned."
"I suspected."
Dany halted, almost close enough to touch him, but she did not.
"You betrayed me. From the first."
Jorah dropped to both knees, head bowed to the floor.
"Forgive me."
Dany did not look at him as he knelt. "You sold my secrets to the man who killed my father and stole my brother's throne."
Jorah's voice rose desperate, pleading. "I protected you. Fought for you. Killed for you—"
"And you want me to forgive you?" she said.
Jorah looked up, tears on his face. "I have loved you."
Dany's frown deepened. "Love? How can you say that to me?"
"Any other man, and I would have you executed. But you… I do not want you in my city, dead or alive."
She turned slightly, voice clear. "Go back to your masters in King's Landing. Collect your pardon if you can."
Jorah rose slowly. He stepped forward, arm reaching out.
"Daenerys, please—"
Barristan and Grey Worm shifted, weapons half-raised.
Dany moved faster. She moved her wrist before he could touch her.
"Don't ever presume to touch me again," she said, voice low and lethal. "Or speak my name."
Jorah froze.
Dany continued. "You have until dusk to collect your things and leave this city. If you're found in Meereen past break of day… I'll have your head thrown into Slaver's Bay."
Jorah's shoulders slumped. He could say nothing more. He knew she would do it. She always kept her word.
Dany gazed at him, eyes no longer soft, no longer trusting.
"Go. Now."
Jorah lowered his head. He turned. He walked down the stairs, steps heavy.
Rhaego shook his head once, then turned and walked up the higher steps behind the seat, disappearing through a side arch.
Dany turned her head to watch her son go, face defeated as a mother… but resolute as a queen.
It must be done.
Outside the city, golden afternoon light shone down on the road. Ser Jorah rode away on a lone horse, few belongings tied behind him. He did not look back.
And the city he would never return to faded behind him.
The throne room had emptied. Sunlight still poured through the high arches, but somewhere in the council chamber felt colder now.
Dany remained on the seat, alone except for Missandei standing quietly at her side and Ser Barristan a few paces away, hands folded behind his back, eyes downcast.
She stared at the empty space near the balcony where Rhaego tends to rest.
Missandei spoke first, voice soft, careful.
"You did what you had to do, Your Grace."
Dany exhaled slowly. "Did I?"
Ser Barristan hesitated, then stepped closer. "He betrayed you. From the beginning. He sold your secrets. He endangered you… and your son."
Dany's fingers curled on the arm of the chair.
"And yet he was the first man who believed in me. The first man who stayed when everyone else left."
Barristan shifted, just slightly but said nothing.
Dany's gaze drifted toward the balcony where Rhaego always is. "My son is angry with me," she said, almost to herself.
"He has never done that before. Not once. He protested… and when I told him to be quiet, he left."
Missandei's voice was gentle.
"He loves you, Your Grace. And he loves Ser Jorah. He is young. He sees the man who taught him swords and stories… not the spy who once served your enemies."
Dany closed her eyes for a moment. "I know."
She opened them again, gaze distant.
"But I am queen now. Queens do not forgive betrayal. Not even when it hurts."
Barristan finally spoke, voice low, steady. "You were merciful, Your Grace. Exile is kinder than death. Many would have taken his head."
Dany's smile was small, bitter.
"Mercy. Yes. That is what I told myself."
She rose slowly from the seat. "I will carry this. As I carry everything else."
She walked toward the opening balcony, the one Rhaego had always sat on near the stone railing but stopped before crossing the threshold.
"He will forgive me one day," she said quietly. "Or he won't. But he will understand. One day."
Missandei stepped forward and touched her arm, light, reassuring. "He already understands, Your Grace. He is your son. He must know what it means to rule."
Dany nodded once then turned away from the balcony. She walked back to her chambers. The city stretched out below, bright in the afternoon sun, alive, free.
But the weight in her chest had not lifted.
Meanwhile, in a lower training yard open to the sky, Rhaego stood alone. The spear Oberyn had given him rested in his hands. He twirled it once, awkwardly then tried again.
The motion was smoother the second time, but frustration still burned in his eyes.
He thrust at a wooden dummy, hard, too hard. The spear tip cracked the wood.
He stopped. Breathing hard. Tail lashing behind him.
I wanted to change the story for the better, he thought.
But he couldn't even change the fate of the man who watched him grow up and taught him swords and history. After all… even though he is not of this world or this body… he wants to live it.
But things just end the same way as the original story.
He thrust again angry, sloppy. The dummy splintered further.
He heard footsteps soft, deliberate. Oberyn stepped into the yard, crimson tunic open at the chest, spear of his own resting across his shoulders.
He watched Rhaego for a moment, silent then walked closer.
"You're angry," Oberyn said simply.
Rhaego didn't look up. He gripped the spear tighter.
"They wouldn't even let me fly to him," he muttered. "To see him off. My mother made sure of that."
He sighed. "He didn't deserve it."
Oberyn stopped a few paces away. "Your mother thinks he did."
Rhaego's tail flicked sharply.
"He protected us. Fought for us. Taught me—"
"He spied on her," Oberyn cut in, calm, but firm.
"From the first. He took Lannister gold to report where she was, who she spoke to, who she married. He told them she carried you. That is not protection. That is betrayal."
Rhaego's shoulders tensed. "He stopped."
"After he was caught," Oberyn said. "There is a difference."
Rhaego finally looked up, violet eyes burning.
"You don't know him."
"I know men," Oberyn said quietly.
"I know what shame looks like. I know what love looks like. And I know what happens when a man tries to serve two masters."
Rhaego lowered the spear, tip touching the ground.
"He loved her."
Oberyn nodded once. "I believe he did. In the end. But love does not erase what came before."
Rhaego stared at the cracked dummy. "She sent him away."
"She had to," Oberyn said. "A queen who forgives betrayal invites more of it. You will learn that one day."
Rhaego's tail curled tight around his own ankle.
"I don't want to."
Oberyn stepped closer, close enough to place a hand on Rhaego's shoulder.
"You will," he said gently. "Because you are her son. And because you are a dragon. And dragons rule, whether they want to or not."
Rhaego looked up at him, eyes still angry, but listening.
Oberyn squeezed his shoulder once. "Now," he said.
"Show me that thrust again. Slower this time. Let the spear do the work… not the anger."
Rhaego exhaled long, shaky then raised the spear.
Oberyn stepped back, smiling faintly. "Better."
The yard filled with the soft clack of wood on wood. And somewhere above, a queen sat alone on her stone seat, carrying the weight of justice, and the heavier weight of love.