GREAT GALLEON – AFTER THE BATTLE – DECK – DAY
The smoke still rose high above the broken sea.
Shattered masts. Flaming hulls. Men screaming, then silent.
But Daenerys Targaryen's gaze remained fixed on the sight before her—the raw ruin of men. The kind of horror she had never thought of.
Not this.
Not this fire.
Her hand gripped the railing—knuckles pale.
Caesar stood just behind her.
But his eyes weren't on the sea.
Not on the flames.
A soft grey screen glowed before his eyes alone—flickering icons, names, stats only he could see.
A smile curled at the edge of his mouth.
His gaze passed over the names like old friends:
"Man-of-War."
"War Galleon."
"Frigate."
He closed the screen with a blink—gone as if it had never been.
But the satisfaction lingered in his eyes.
And then—
He looked at her.
Still lost in the screams and the smoke.
He stepped close.
Lifted a hand—
Softly set it on her head.
"Does this scare you?" he asked, his voice a low murmur.
She flinched slightly.
Then glanced up at him.
And gave a small nod. "Hm."
It was not the nod of a queen.
Just a girl who had never seen how far power could reach.
Never seen how loud one man's silence could be.
Caesar studied her expression—thoughtful.
So he smiled.
"Let me show you something else," he said gently. "Come."
She followed—barefoot on wet wood, cloak trailing, glancing back only once at the smoking ruin in their wake.
He led her to the starboard side of the ship.
"What do you think of this one?" he asked, glancing at the galleon beneath their feet. "Ever seen a ship this big?"
She looked around.
"…No. Never one like this."
Her voice was soft. Half-breath.
He grinned.
"There's always a bigger fish in the sea, little queen."
She blinked, looking up at him.
He pointed toward the horizon.
"Look."
At first—nothing.
Just mist. The grey sprawl of wind and wave.
Then—
A shadow.
And another.
And then more.
They emerged from the haze like giants. One after the other.
Three frigates—slim and fast, behind them, a war galleon—dark hull, gilded trim, cannons shining like blackened gold. And then—
A man-of-war.
Bigger. Taller. A floating fortress.
It dwarfed them.
Daenerys's breath caught.
Her lips parted. She took a step forward, hands tightening on the rail.
"…How can there be ships like these?" she whispered.
She looked at him—eyes wide, unsure whether to fear or marvel.
He said nothing.
He just watched her. Let her see.
The approaching ships lowered their sails.The wind quieted.The water calmed.
And across the sea, a thousand voices rose.
"MY LORD!""MY LORD!!""FOR OUR LORD!!"
Daenerys turned—caught off guard.
Men. Rows of men on decks. Raising weapons. Raising hands. Not screaming in pain. Screaming in reverence.
Caesar lifted his arm in return.
Not grand. Just firm. Just enough.
Then turned to her.
"…Let's board the big one."
She didn't answer right away.
Just followed—gaze still flicking to those floating cities.
But as she stepped beside him, eyes on the towering man-of-war, she whispered under her breath, half to herself—
"…Dragons were not the only breathe-fire.".
....
Daenerys had already left. Her footsteps faded below deck, returning to her chamber. She hadn't spoken since the ships had come, nor since the men hailed Caesar like a dragon of the sea.
He stood there still. Cloak flapped by the wind, mask now hanging from his hip. Watching the sea, always. Thinking. Calculating.
Then—
A presence behind him.
The Supreme Shadow stepped forward—the woman recently chosen to command the shadow in Kai's place. She knelt without a word. Waited for acknowledgment.
He didn't look at her.
She finally spoke, low and clear.
"My Lord… what is your will for the survivors?"
He exhaled slow. Almost disappointed by the question.
"They're pirates."
A beat.
Then he turned slightly, voice colder now.
"No mercy for their kind. Cut their throats. Feed them to the sea."
The Supreme Shadow bowed once more—low, sharp.
"As you command.".
She vanished into the crew with the quiet feet. Not long after, the muffled cries began—short-lived. The sea claimed what it always claimed.
Still Caesar looked ahead.
The horizon hadn't moved—but his mind already had.
Another set of footsteps approached, quicker this time.
The captain of the scout ship. One of the faster vessels in his growing fleet. The Balinger—a ship built for speed and quick pursuit.
The man saluted with a clenched fist to chest.
"My lord."
Caesar turned to him now. Voice calm. Even amused.
"Take the Balinger and find me more."
The captain blinked.
"More, my lord?"
Caesar smirked.
"Pirates."
The man nodded slowly, still watching the water stained with blood.
"They'll scatter. Some already fleeing south. Others won't fight again."
Caesar stepped closer, his voice low but cutting through the wind.
"They'll fight again if we make them believe they can win. Lure them out. Make them greedy. Make them stupid."
The captain gave a short, vicious grin.
"As you say."
Caesar looked once more at the waves ahead.
His voice dropped—as he doing a favour.
"This sea's been rotting since Aerys died… and Robert drank his way through it."
He squinted toward the south—where the Stepstones lay like scattered teeth.
"Too many snakes. Too many dirty flags."
A pause. The smirk returned.
"Let's clean it.".
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