NARROW SEA – CAESAR'S SHIP – NIGHT
The ship creaked as the waves thickened.
Storm winds rolled in. Rain hadn't come yet—but the clouds bruised the sky, and the sea beneath growled.
DAENERY'S CHAMBER
Dark.
Still.
Unnervingly so.
Daenerys Targaryen stood alone by the small window, one hand braced on the wood as the ship rocked underfoot. She turned, gaze flicking across the room.
No attendants.
No voices of sailers.
Nothing but the storm and the sway.
She stepped to the table, found the oil lamp—already lit, faintly swaying with the wind sneaking through the cracks. She lifted it carefully, fingers tight around the handle.
Then stepped into the corridor.
LOWER DECK – HALLWAY
Dark.
Silent.
The flame cast long shadows. Her bare feet padded softly along the planks, hair brushing her shoulders as she moved.
Behind her—
A flicker.
A movement just out of sight.
She didn't notice.
She turned a corner instead—uncertain, uneasy.
OUTER STAIRWELL
She stepped onto the open stair, the wind catching her cloak.
She looked up at the sky.
Grey-black. The storm is coming.
She turned again—a decision made.
Toward Caesar's quarters.
CAESAR'S CHAMBER – DOORWAY
She reached the door.
Her fingers found the latch. Not locked.
She opened it.
And froze.
Eyes wide. Breath caught.
The light flickered on blood.
A body stood—barely.
Held up not by life, but by death. Three ninjatō pierced through its chest, driven clean from behind. The corpse slumped in midair, limbs twitching.
In front of the body…
Caesar.
Holding the fourth blade, blood dripping from the edge.
He turned slowly.
His voice soft, familiar.
"Little queen. Did I wake you?"
She didn't speak at once.
Then, quietly:
"Who is he?"
Caesar stepped to her side, calm, as if this wasn't the first corpse he saw this way.
"No one," he said. "That's who he is. Just wanted me dead."
She blinked. Her chest rose, a question unspoken.
She had thought—perhaps—this man came for her.
But now...
"Why?" she whispered.
He didn't answer.
Instead, he walked forward.
Kneeling by the corpse, he reached out—and peeled back the face.
One.
Underneath… another.
He peeled again.
Another.
Daenerys gasped.
A face beneath a face beneath a face.
"Faceless…" she murmured.
Caesar smiled faintly. But said nothing.
Her mind reeled.
Why him? Why are they hunting him?
A man with enemies even the Faceless hired?
But the words didn't come. She watched him stand.
He walked past her, without another word.
She turned—wanting to follow—but—
A creak.
She turned back.
And saw them.
Four shadows.
Each in a corner of the room. Not moving. Not breathing loud. Barely seen.
Only now did the lamplight catch their eyes.
Silent. Watching. Like statues.
One stood behind the door.
Another pressed to the wall beside the bed.
She hadn't seen them. At all.
Fear bloomed in her chest.
She ran.
Lamp swaying wildly.
Toward Caesar.
...
STORM-SWEPT DECK – OUTER SHIP – NIGHT
The rain had found them.
Cold. Hard. Relentless.
Waves cracked against the hull like distant drums.
Daenerys reached the top deck, soaked in seconds. Her breath heaved as she spotted him—
Caesar.
He stood under the storm like it belonged to him.
He turned, noticed her struggling for air, wet hair clinging to her cheek.
"Did they scare you?"
A pause. His grin flickered through the dark.
"Or was it the dead man?"
She didn't answer.
Caesar chuckled.
"Not the dead man. Of course not."
He waved a hand through the rain.
"You've seen worse."
She looked away, not fond of remembering it.
He stepped forward, lifting his arms to the sky like a mad priest.
"For some reason… I'm getting excited."
He turned his face to hers. Eyes wild. Alive.
"Do you know why?"
She hesitated. "No."
In one swift movement, he grabbed her wrist.
Pulled her in.
Their faces—too close.
The rain poured between them. His eyes locked to hers.
"Are you scared?"
She didn't pull back. She didn't answer.
He let go.
Turned. Walked toward the edge where the world fell into black sea.
The ship lurched.
She stumbled, grasping the wooden beam behind her.
Caesar slipped—his foot lost the rail.
Daenerys gasped.
He caught himself—just barely—hands gripping the slick edge.
Then, slowly, he pushed back up. Turned.
Storm in his hair, blood on his knuckles.
Without a word, he walked back—grabbed her arm—not roughly.
Dragged her in.
...
SHIP – INNER HALLWAY – CONTINUOUS
They burst inside.
He shut the heavy door behind them.
"Are you hurt?"
She nodded no—but her body trembled from wet cold.
A flicker of something crossed his face.
Regret?
"Hey!" Caesar called out.
In moments, her handmaids came up the corridor.
He stepped back as they took her arms gently.
"Take her back."
They nodded.
Daenerys looked over her shoulder as they led her away.
Caesar stood alone, dripping. Watching.
But not saying a word.
Not yet.
.....
DAENERYS' CHAMBER – SHIP – NIGHT
The storm had passed.
The waves no longer howled, only whispered.
A single lamp burned low in the corner.
The door creaked open.
Caesar stepped in.
Her attendants bowed quietly and slipped past him, shutting the door behind.
He moved without sound. Sat beside the bed.
Daenerys lay with her eyes closed, face turned slightly to the wall. Her breath calm. Body still.
He stared for a while. Not saying anything.
Then—
A quiet chuckle, soft and teasing.
"I know you're awake, little queen."
A moment.
She opened her eyes slowly and turned her head to face him.
Her voice was soft. Tired. Curious.
"Why are the Faceless Men coming after you?"
He tilted his head. Glanced down.
"I don't know."
He exhaled. The truth sat heavy on his chest.
"Maybe they fear change. Maybe they fear the ones who don't fit their order. The special. The uncertain."
He looked back at her, voice quieter.
"That's what we are."
She blinked. A hint of confusion in her expression.
"We?"
He didn't answer her question directly.
Instead, he asked again—his voice the same as that day in the market of Braavos.
"Is your brother the only dragon?"
She opened her mouth, unsure. The answer tangled inside her.
Then silence.
So he gave it to her.
"You are the dragon."
She didn't move.
Only her eyes searched his.
He leaned back slightly, resting his hands against the chair's arm.
"The dragon hasn't spread her wings yet," he said—almost like a whisper.
He watched her lips murmur something… a name? A prayer?
He couldn't tell.
So he leaned in again. Closer. Voice low.
"I can kill every enemy of yours."
Her gaze met his—steady now. Surprised, maybe. But steady.
He added, darkly—
"All of them are already near my blade. All I need to say… is one word."
His lips curled.
"Kill."
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