The slaves' uprising marked the dusk of the masters, but the frenzy of vengeance and bloodshed only lasted until nightfall—for neither Drogo nor Daenerys were advocates of wanton slaughter.
The revolt had been chaotic. Innocents were inevitably harmed, the weak bullied, and many of the truly guilty slipped away. All of this demanded a proper reckoning—restrained justice, not blind rage.
Following the Khal's command, the bloodriders sealed all four gates of the Red City and placed trusted guards at each one.
At Daenerys's order, every slave, commoner, and noble still alive in Astapor was summoned to the Plaza of Punishment. All but the defiant or those in hiding were present.
The largest open space in the city barely contained the massive crowd. Many had brought torches on their own accord, and under the blood moon, the square blazed as if it were day.
But the first moments of a new age still carried the scars of the old. The people divided themselves instinctively: nobles huddled in corners with their families, commoners clinging tightly beside them, Unsullied standing rigid and alert in perfect ranks at the center, freed slaves gathered in disordered clusters—some sitting, some standing—and the wild Dothraki roamed the outskirts on horseback.
Once the mood settled into a tense solemnity, Drogo left the high seat and walked to stand beside Daenerys, both overlooking the throng as the heavy scent of blood lingered on the wind.
Seeing how tightly she clenched her jaw, Drogo leaned in and said, attempting to ease her nerves,
"Do you remember what I told you after you broke free from Kraznys mo Nakloz?"
Daenerys nodded slightly and replied softly,
"To say what I want, and do what I will."
Drogo smiled.
"Exactly. You're the Queen of Astapor. Everyone here will obey you. Say what's in your heart, loudly and clearly. When you finish, I'll speak."
A girl who once wandered the world, mocked and cast aside, was now Queen of nearly a hundred thousand souls.
"The weight of command… is this a dream? No—it's real."
Daenerys took several deep breaths. Then, in a voice that rang across the square, she declared:
"I am Daenerys Stormborn Targaryen—daughter of King Aerys II of the Targaryen dynasty, Princess of Dragonstone, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Mother of Dragons, the Unburnt, and from this day forth, your Queen. The Breaker of Chains. I hereby declare: the wheel of history is broken, and the slave system that bound men's lives in Astapor… is abolished!"
A wave of emotion surged through the freed slaves. Chests heaved with feeling. Then, together, they roared:
"Long live the Queen! Long live the Queen!"
Thud, thud, thud! Over ten thousand Unsullied struck their spears against the ground, the sound echoing like thunder.
The Dothraki joined in with wild whoops, swinging their arakhs, determined to outshout the others. Even the nobles and hesitant citizens, overwhelmed by the moment, echoed the chant—whether sincerely or not.
But Daenerys, after giving her name and declaration, simply stood there—absorbing the cheers with no follow-up.
From beside her, Drogo cringed slightly.
"She's just getting started… there's still a long way to go. Guess I'll need to step in before they cheer themselves hoarse."
He raised an arm and called out:
"Quiet! Quiet down, all of you!"
The khalasar and those who recognized his authority fell silent immediately. But many others continued to cheer—for in their eyes, Daenerys was their only Queen.
Even Drogo, a man feared across the grasslands, felt a hint of regret at having yielded power. It seemed most of the crowd saw him as a mere consort now.
Fortunately, Daenerys caught on quickly. She raised the Harpy's Finger and commanded:
"Silence! Hear your King speak!"
The crowd hushed.
Though the Unsullied obeyed Daenerys and not Drogo, the freed slaves now recognized him for what he was—not just a warlord, but the power behind the throne. And if there was one thing slaves knew, it was power.
Still, the Unsullied didn't see him that way. To them, he was just the Queen's lover—a bronze-skinned pretty boy who shared her bed.
Drogo didn't care about their judgment. He said loudly:
"Unsullied—you need a commander. Grey Worm, step forward!"
He respected Grey Worm's strength and recognized his potential. With their numbers growing, Drogo could no longer handle everything himself.
But Grey Worm didn't move. Though he stood in the front row, in clear view—he didn't flinch. His face showed no change.
Annoyed, Drogo barked,
"Grey Worm! Step forward!"
Still nothing.
Losing patience, he shouted,
"Are you deaf!?"
To be ignored in front of the crowd—after having freed this man—infuriated Drogo. He jumped off the platform, striding down in fury to deal with the insolent eunuch himself. Whatever kingly image he might have projected, he tossed it aside.
Just as he reached him, Daenerys's amused voice rang out:
"Hehe. Grey Worm—obey your King."
At once, Grey Worm stood at attention.
"Yes, Your Grace."
He took a step forward and stood tall.
Drogo nearly laughed in frustration.
"This guy's like a damn toad—only hops when poked."
He'd obeyed—but had made Drogo look foolish in the process. If Drogo struck him now, the public's already blurry image of him would collapse entirely.
He glanced at Daenerys. She was smiling—but the moment their eyes met, she quickly masked it.
A small thing… nothing worth fussing over.
Or so Drogo told himself. But the sting lingered.
Without dwelling on it, he turned and walked away, disappearing into a shadowy alley beyond the torches.
The moment he stepped into darkness, a piercing shriek startled him.
Hiss! Grrr!
He recognized the sound instantly—and the three pairs of eyes, glowing like blood moons in the night—it was his dragons.
Before he could approach, they flapped their wings and took off into the sky, heading toward the distant pyramid.
In the moonlight, he spotted something dangling from Drogon's jaws.
A leg.
A human leg.
Following the foul stench, Drogo crouched and felt the ground where they'd taken off. No doubt—human remains.
"The nature of dragons… is evil," he muttered, staring into the sky—then turned to look back at the high platform where Daenerys still stood.
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