Game of Thrones: Rise of the Supreme Dragon Queen

Two things about the stout man in brown caught Daenerys's attention: first, the smooth, delicate skin on his cheeks, strikingly similar to the eunuchs of Qarth; and second, the numerous old scars crisscrossing his exposed skin—arms, chest, and the lower half of his abdomen.

Against his brownish complexion, the pale scars stood out as prominently as a calling card.

The other man, an elder, wore an undyed wool travel cloak with the hood pulled back. Long, white hair fell to his shoulders, and a silky silver beard covered the lower half of his face.

He leaned on a sturdy hardwood staff, as tall as himself, standing half a step behind the stout man, as though he were his servant.

But the elder carried an air far superior to the bald, stout man. His tall, burly frame resembled that of a seasoned warrior.

"Welcome. I am Daenerys Targaryen," Dany introduced herself with a smile.

The stout man offered a casual bow and responded cheerfully, "Greetings, Your Grace! I'm Belwas, known as 'Strong Belwas.'"

Hearing his high-pitched voice and thinking of his title, Dany couldn't help but muse that only someone lacking a certain attribute would cling so tightly to such a moniker.

The elder performed a practiced, elegant gesture, kneeling on one knee. "Your Grace, my name is Arstan, but Belwas has given me the nickname 'Whitebeard.'"

Whitebeard?

The name struck Dany as far more imposing than "Strong," bringing a smile to her lips.

"Please, both of you, have a seat," Dany gestured for them to remove their shoes and cool off in the fountain pool.

Belwas made himself at home, stepping forward, kicking off his leather sandals, and plunging his dirt-caked feet into the fountain. With a creak, he sank half an inch into the wicker lounge chair, then grabbed a wine jug and drank directly from it.

Fortunately, the fountain flowed with fresh water continuously pouring from a dragon-shaped stone spout, saving the poor nibbling fish from a grim fate.

Whitebeard, on the other hand, stood frozen, his mouth agape and his face full of astonishment.

"What's wrong?" Dany asked curiously. "Is there a problem?"

"My apologies," the elder replied, visibly uneasy. "To sit alongside a queen, and in the same pool... it feels improper."

Embarrassed, he approached the fountain but stopped short of entering. Instead, he sat on the edge and sighed, "You are not quite the queen I imagined. I thought you would be more... more..."

He hesitated, unable to utter the potentially offensive word, but Dany finished for him with a grin. "Regal? Majestic?"

"My sincerest apologies," Whitebeard said again. "Though, in truth, you are quite fine as you are."

Dany chuckled. "Oh, I'm just a wild girl raised on the streets. I've barely read a few books. What do I know about royal etiquette?"

A mischievous glint sparkled in her violet eyes. "Drogon, come meet our guests."

With a screeching hiss, Drogon, who had been sunbathing on the roof—easily mistaken for a dragon-shaped stone sculpture—rose. He leaped down with a flap of his wings, sending leaves and branches flying. In a splash, he landed beside Dany.

"Is this regal enough for you?" she asked, stroking Drogon's head with a smile.

The fierce black dragon beside the radiant silver-haired girl created an awe-inspiring sense of majesty.

"You are a true dragon, the true Targaryen, and the only queen of the Seven Kingdoms!" Whitebeard's eyes glistened with tears, his voice trembling with emotion.

Ever since he had devoured the semi-divine warlock with Dany's help, Drogon seemed to have evolved significantly. His appetite and growth had increased, and his intelligence now resembled that of a six- or seven-year-old child.

More importantly, he had grown calmer, less volatile than before. After Dany's training, he could resist the urge to fly off recklessly in search of the skies.

As a result, while the other two dragons remained chained, Drogon roamed free.

"Only four months old, yet he's the size of a small horse?" Belwas asked, finally recovering from his astonishment.

"Big, you say? You should see how much he eats," Dany replied with a shake of her head. Then she turned to Belwas. "Why have you come to Qarth?"

Belwas set down the empty wine jug, grabbed a green-skinned melon, took a bite, and muttered, "Belwas was a gladiator in Meereen. Famous for never losing, I was bought by a merchant from Qohor, who later sold me to that perfumed fat man from Pentos."

"Ilyrio Mopatis?" Dany guessed.

"Yes, that's him," the eunuch confirmed with a nod. "That fat man sent Strong Belwas across the sea to protect the little queen. As for Whitebeard, he's here to protect Belwas."

"I'm merely his attendant," Whitebeard corrected, raising his staff high, as though brandishing a spear. "Your Grace, I was born on the Dornish Marches and once served as a squire to a knight of House Swann in my youth."

Dany couldn't help but think, You're in your sixties and still working as a bodyguard and squire?Outwardly, she asked, "So you're from Westeros, no wonder you speak the Common Tongue so fluently."

Pointing to the armored knight nearby, she added, "My Queensguard is also a Westerosi knight. Do you know him?"

At the mention of "Queensguard," Whitebeard's expression shifted. He scrutinized Jorah with a sharp gaze before saying curtly, "Ser Mormont's name is indeed 'well-known' in the Seven Kingdoms."

Well-known? What kind of reputation does the old bear's son even have? Dany thought.

Defying Orders, Selling Slaves? Forsaking Honor to Escape Justice? Betrayed by His Wife?

Jorah noticed the hostility in the white-bearded man's words and frowned. "Back at the dock, you didn't mention knowing me. When did we meet?"

"Lord Mormont, at Pyke Island, you fought valiantly and were knighted. At Lannisport, you almost unseated the Kingslayer, winning the heart of a fair lady in the process. I saw no need to bring it up earlier, but since Her Majesty has asked, I shall recount it truthfully," the white-bearded man replied calmly.

"You do look familiar," Jorah said, lifting his visor to study the man closely. After a moment, he shook his head. "The tournament at Lannisport had hundreds of participants, and the assault on Pyke involved thousands of knights. I can't recall who you are. And a reminder—I'm no longer a lord. The title of Lord of Bear Island belongs to Maege Mormont. I'm merely a wandering knight."

"You're my Queensguard," Daenerys reminded him.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Jorah said, the bitterness on his face melting into a genuine smile.

"Ser Jorah has extensive combat experience and has saved my life many times. He is my most loyal friend and a brilliant advisor," Daenerys said, her solemn tone lending weight to her words. Jorah's smile grew brighter at the praise.

Daenerys didn't forget to honor her Dothraki companions in front of the guests. Pointing to Aggo, she introduced him. "This is Aggo, my bloodrider, a skilled warrior of exceptional courage."

"The Khaleesi has us for protection. That is enough," Aggo said, casting a glance at the portly eunuch, Belwas.

"A Dothraki boy," Belwas sneered, tossing aside the remainder of a melon. "Big Belwas doesn't even remember how many Dothraki boys he's slain in the fighting pits. They all had longer braids and more bells than you."

Before Aggo could retort, Belwas patted his scarred belly with a sticky, melon juice-coated hand. "Look at this. Before Big Belwas kills a man, he always gives them a chance to strike first. Count the scars if you want to know how many men I've defeated. Too many to count!"

Aggo drew his arakh in anger, pointing it at the eunuch. "I've yet to kill a fat brown man. Belwas might be barely worthy of adding a bell to my braid."

"Put away your weapon, blood of my blood," Daenerys said gently, pressing down on Aggo's arakh. "This man has come from afar to serve me. He does not deserve to have a blade pointed at him."

Turning to Belwas, she spoke firmly, "If you truly wish to serve me, you must respect my people, my companions, and my brothers. If you cannot, then return to Illyrio and wait for your next assignment."

The grin vanished from the broad brown face of the hulking man. He glanced at the petite yet commanding girl and the black dragon exhaling puffs of smoke beside her. Muttering under his breath, he said, "Big Belwas hasn't finished his task yet. He can't go back."

Daenerys smiled faintly. "And what task is that?"

"The fat man wants the dragons... and you, the dragon-girl," Belwas replied bluntly.

The audacity left Daenerys momentarily stunned. She knew many coveted her dragons, but such blatant greed was jarring.

Whitebeard stepped in to explain, "What Belwas says is true. However, Governor Illyrio sent us to bring you back to aid in restoring House Targaryen. The usurper is dead, and the realm is in chaos. Four kings have risen, and their battles drench the land in blood.

Your Majesty, the Seven Kingdoms need you. Its people need you. Justice needs you."

Daenerys furrowed her brow. "Four kings? Who are they?"

"Joffrey Baratheon, the usurper's son. Renly Baratheon, his younger brother and Lord of Storm's End. Stannis Baratheon, his middle brother and Lord of Dragonstone. And Robb Stark, son of the usurper's old friend Eddard Stark, now the King in the North. There are also whispers of Balon Greyjoy of the Iron Islands intending to declare himself king," Whitebeard said gravely.

"The prophecy is coming true," Daenerys murmured. "You know I've been to the House of the Undying, don't you?"

"We heard that your dragons burned those charlatans to ash," Whitebeard said, disdain evident in his tone.

Daenerys nodded and turned to Jorah. "Ser, tell this gentleman the prophecy I saw in Qarth."

Jorah's face darkened. "You told me that you saw a beautiful woman being assaulted by four grotesque dwarfs. The woman symbolized Westeros, and you wondered who the dwarfs represented. Back then, I guessed they might be Queen Cersei, Grand Maester Pycelle, Varys the eunuch, and King Joffrey."

"Do you mean to say those blue-lipped warlocks actually possess the gift of prophecy?" Whitebeard asked, incredulous.

Not everyone who entered the House of the Undying witnessed visions. Only those with certain qualities could catch glimpses of the river of time.

"I don't understand magic," Daenerys admitted. "I don't know if it was an illusion or something else. But on that day, I saw many things—my brother Rhaegar, Princess Elia, and my nephew Aegon.

Rhaegar had blue eyes, not purple, didn't he? I'd never met him before. He was holding his son and said to me, 'The dragon has three heads. One is still missing.'"

(End of Chapter)

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