Chapter 221: The Queen of Thorns
July 22
The carriage rumbled through the streets of King's Landing, its wheels clattering against the cobblestones. Inside, Olenna Tyrell sat across from two of the strangest men she had ever encountered—one dressed as a painted madman, the other as a lunatic in a Hawaiian shirt.
Olenna said carefully, her voice betraying none of her inner thoughts. "What exactly is this deal you're offering?"
Jacob leaned forward, his scarred Joker face splitting into a wide grin. "I can rescue your grandchildren. Loras and Margaery."
Olenna's eyes narrowed. "And what's the price? Nothing in this world is free. I've learned that lesson more times than I care to count."
Jacob said, "Let's go first to the place you're staying. Then we'll talk properly."
The carriage continued its journey through the winding streets, eventually arriving at the Red Keep. Olenna guided them to her private quarters, where her son Mace was pacing nervously.
"Mother!" Mace exclaimed, his face pale with worry. "Where have you been? I've been—" He stopped abruptly, his eyes widening as he took in the two strange men following his mother.
Olenna waved a dismissive hand. "Later, Mace. Pour some wine for our guests."
She guided Jacob and Stiles to a sitting area, settling into a cushioned chair with the practiced grace of a woman who had spent decades navigating the treacherous waters of court politics. Mace hovered nearby, his hands trembling as he held a wine decanter.
Jacob raised a hand. "No wine for me. I don't drink."
Stiles shook his head as well. "Same here."
Olenna raised a brow. "Why? Don't all men love wine, ale, and mead? Or do you two gentlemen prefer something stronger—spirits, perhaps?"
Jacob shook his head. "No. We don't drink because alcohol doesn't work on us."
Olenna's brow furrowed. "What's alcohol?"
Jacob leaned in, a creepy smile on his Joker face, and spoke like he was sharing a delightful secret.
"Alcohol is the poison that makes the drink worth drinking. Without it, wine is just sour grape juice—and ale? Stale bread-water fit only for pigs. But with it? Oh, with it, you laugh too loud, fight too hard, confess secrets you'd rather take to your grave. Consuming too much alcohol makes you wake up in places you have no business being. A hayloft. A ditch. The High Septon's private chambers. Sometimes you wake up next to someone—naked—and you haven't the foggiest notion who they are, or why they're smiling, or why you're the one covered in strange liquids."
He turned slowly to Mace, who flinched under his gaze.
"Other mornings? You wake up in the dungeon, chained to a wall, with a guard telling you you've committed crimes you don't remember. Treason. Arson. Stole a horse and married it in a drunk ceremony. And the worst part? You might have done it. You'll never know. Because the alcohol stole that memory right out of your skull and replaced it with a pounding headache and the sudden, horrible realization that you're on a wagon—heading for Castle Black—for something you don't even recall doing."
He chuckled and turned back to Olenna.
"That's alcohol, old lady. It turns a man into a beast, a lord into a laughingstock, and a grand maester into a complete fool."
Olenna raised one eyebrow, took a measured sip of her own wine, and said, "You speak like an experienced drunkard."
Jacob shook his head. "I've never been drunk in my life. And to be honest, I'm glad I can't get drunk."
Olenna studied him, trying to understand the strange man she was talking to. "Why is that?"
Jacob's expression grew thoughtful. "First of all, I hate losing control of my actions and thinking. Second, my head is filled with all kinds of weird intrusive thoughts, and the mere thought of me losing my rationality and acting on one of them makes me shudder in fear." He paused. "And there are all kinds of drunks. Some become happy and sing. Some turn violent. It would be okay if I turned into a happy drunk, but it would be terrifying if I turned into the violent kind. Believe me, no one would want to see that—starting with myself."
Stiles shivered. "Yeah, I don't want to see that either. A lot of people would die. Maybe even me."
Jacob sniffed the air dramatically and turned to Stiles. "Dude, you reek of anxiety."
Stiles grimaced. "I was just imagining what would happen if you got drunk and lost control."
Jacob said, "That will never happen. So stop thinking about it." He turned back to Olenna. "Now, let's get serious."
Olenna set down her wine glass. "First, aren't you going to introduce yourself properly? Or is this your true face?"
Jacob shook his head. "No, it's not." He stood up. "Give us a moment. We'll go change our clothes and come back." He turned to Stiles. "Let's go back home."
They both disappeared, leaving Olenna and Mace staring at the empty space where they had been sitting.
---
Back in Serendell, Jacob handed Stiles a black noble's outfit—a long tunic with Jacob's sigil, along with pants and boots.
"Wear these," Jacob said. "After we talk with the old lady, we're going to..." He looked around to make sure none of his wives were nearby, then lowered his voice. "We're going to meet the Dragon Queen."
Stiles raised a brow. "Seriously, man? You got a new wife just a month ago. You need some help."
Jacob hit him with the clothes. "Shut up and go change. And if you say something to my girls or Erica when we come back, I swear I will make you regret it."
Stiles smirked. "Aren't they going to find out anyway?"
Jacob said, "They'll find out eventually, but not now. Besides, I'm just going to visit Daenerys, not marry her."
Stiles snorted. "Yeah, right."
He teleported to his room to change. Jacob teleported to his own room and began choosing from the clothes the system had rewarded him when he arrived in the Game of Thrones world.
After a few minutes, he settled on an outfit and put it on, then looked at the mirror.
He was wearing a black ensemble tailored for a king, crafted from rich fabrics embroidered with intricate gold filigree and crimson accents. A high-collared coat draped over a fitted tunic, while a flowing black cape lined in deep red rested on his shoulders, fastened with ornate golden clasps. Gold dragon motifs, delicate chains, and ruby-like gemstones adorned the outfit, and a dark red tie with a jewel-like brooch completed the look, giving it an air of elegance and authority. At his waist hung his sword, Griffin.
He posed dramatically. "Mirror, mirror on the wall—who's the most handsome man of all?" He paused, then answered himself. "Me. Obviously. And let's be real—the clothes should be grateful. I'm the one making them look good."
After admiring himself for a few more minutes, he teleported back to the garden and found Stiles already changed and waiting.
Stiles glared at him. "What took you so long?"
Jacob shrugged. "I was busy making my reflection jealous."
Stiles's face twitched. "Must be nice to be a narcissist like you. And couldn't you have given me something cool like what you're wearing?"
Jacob struck a pose. "These are a king's clothes. Peasants like you shouldn't dream about wearing them. Now let's head back, and you're going to introduce me to Olenna properly. If your introduction pleases me, I'll hook you up with her granddaughter.""
Stiles groaned. "I told you, I don't want her granddaughter or any other girl. Erica is enough for me."
Jacob's eyes narrowed. "Coward. I just listened to your heartbeat. You lied."
Stiles said nervously, "No, I didn't."
Jacob smirked. "Yes, you did. Like I said before, just talk to Erica. She might agree."
Stiles shook his head. "Or she might bite me to death. Let's just go back to King's Landing."
---
They appeared back in Olenna's chambers, startling the old woman and her son. Olenna's eyes widened as she took in Jacob's transformation from the painted madman to the regal figure standing before her. Mace was trembling in fear as he recognized Jacob from the time he had tortured Meryn Trant in the small council chamber.
Jacob winked at her and said, "Stiles, if you will."
Stiles stepped forward and cleared his throat. "I present to you King Jacob Flameborn of House Alexandre, the First of His Name, King of Dragons, Future King of Westeros, Protector of Women, the Most Handsome Man Alive, the Demon Slayer, King of the Free Folk and the Giants, the Conqueror."
Olenna realized who Jacob was and began sizing him up.
Jacob nodded at Stiles. "Nice. But don't say 'the First of His Name' when you introduce me again."
They both sat down, and Stiles asked, "Then should I say 'Jacob the First'?"
Jacob shook his head. "Nope."
Stiles frowned. "Why?"
Jacob said, "Because that means there will be another king of Westeros after me."
Stiles raised a brow. "Isn't there going to be a king after you?"
Jacob snorted. "Not anytime soon. You know how long my kind live, and my wives have long lifespans too. I'll be the king of Westeros for a long time."
Stiles smirked. "What if you have a son?"
Jacob's expression was dismissive. "Then the little punk should go build his own kingdom. Why should I give him mine?"
Olenna paid no attention to her son's terror. She hadn't spared him a glance since they entered the room—she'd already forgotten he was there. . She interrupted Jacob and Stiles. "So you're the new King in the North—Jacob Alexandre. You're not quite what I expected."
Jacob turned to her with a charming smile. "You were shocked by my handsomeness, right? Don't worry. You're not the first one."
Olenna chuckled. "You're an arrogant one, aren't you? But you're also right. You are handsome."
Jacob just smiled and winked at her.
Olenna studied him with amusement. "You're much younger than I thought. And I heard you have horns, that you're a demon, and there are rumors that you have red eyes and can breathe fire."
Jacob shook his head. "Well, I'm not a demon. But I do have powers."
Olenna nodded slowly. "I've seen you disappear, so I believe you have powers. The rumors say you have a dragon. Is that true?"
Jacob nodded. "Yes."
Olenna leaned forward. "How old is it?"
Jacob's voice was calm. "She's over three hundred years old. She's a famous dragon from the Dance of the Dragons era."
Olenna sat up straight, her expression turning serious. "Which dragon are you talking about?"
Jacob said, "One of the wild ones."
Olenna's eyes narrowed. "Sheepstealer? Or Grey Ghost?"
Jacob smiled. "You know your history. But not one of those two. She's the third one."
Olenna's voice was barely a whisper. "The Cannibal?"
Jacob nodded. "Yes. Her name is Kisarax, and she has grown into a giant monster bigger than Balerion the Black Dread. So you understand that conquering Westeros for me is an easy thing, right? Kisarax has grown so powerful that no human weapon can penetrate her scales. Her fire breath can burn large armies in minutes."
Olenna sighed. "If you truly possess a dragon larger than Balerion the Black Dread, then you have no need for an army. Your dragon alone could conquer Westeros. The only one who could stand against you is the Targaryen girl, but her dragons are too young. They'd likely end up as meals for the Cannibal."
Jacob leaned forward. "Alright, let's talk business. I want you to join my kingdom—you, your house, and the Reach."
Olenna studied him for a long moment. "And what's in it for me?"
Jacob's voice was flat. "You survive. Your house survives. You won't be burned to ash."
Olenna's eyes narrowed. "So you're the kind who burns everything to ash to get what he wants?"
Jacob shook his head. "No. Only the ones who stand in my way. I don't want war. But I won't avoid it either. I'll fight until they surrender or die."
Olenna's sharp eyes studied him, her wrinkled fingers tapping thoughtfully on the armrest of her chair. "What's your end game, boy? What kind of kingdom do you actually want to build?"
Jacob said, "I want to build a kingdom where everyone has the right to live free. Where they don't have to fear being murdered in their own homes or raped in the streets. Where they don't have to starve because a lord decided to hoard all the grain. Where they don't have to watch their children die of sickness that could have been cured."
He continued, "Education for everyone. Not just the sons of lords. Everyone. Boys, girls, highborn, lowborn. They'll learn to read, to write, to count. They'll learn trades—smithing, farming, healing. They'll learn how to build, how to govern, how to think for themselves."
"I will have laws that apply to everyone. Lord and peasant alike. No more lords raping and murdering with impunity. No more knights burning villages for sport. I will enforce those laws with an army of lawkeepers who answer to the crown—not to the local lord. They answer to me."
"I will expect loyalty and responsibility in return. The people of my kingdom will have the right to safety, food, clean water, education, and healthcare. But they will also have the duty to contribute. To follow the law. To pay fair taxes to support the kingdom. To serve in the army if called."
Olenna said dryly, "The lords will love that."
Jacob's smile turned sharp. "The lords will have a choice. They can accept the new order and keep their lands and titles, or they can resist and lose everything. I'm not interested in pleasing the nobles. I'm interested in building a kingdom where people don't want to rebel because they have nothing to rebel against."
Olenna studied him carefully. "That sounds like a beautiful, peaceful kingdom. But can you really burn anyone who opposes you? Can you be cruel enough to achieve peace? Or are you just pretending in front of an old woman like me?"
Jacob said, "I'm well aware that peace doesn't come from treaties and promises. People will forget a treaty. They will forget promises. And if I show them mercy when they oppose me, they will think it's weakness. They will oppose me again and again and expect me to forgive them. So I will show no mercy to my enemies. I will give them a wound they will never forget. That way, they will guard their peace like starving dogs guard meat."
Olenna's voice was calm. "They will call you a mad king. A tyrant. A monster. They will fear you."
He met her eyes and smirked. "I don't care. To achieve peace, I'm willing to be the monster everyone fears—so that when I finally stop, they will call it mercy and weep with gratitude."
Olenna was silent for a long moment. Then she smiled—a slow, calculating smile.
"You're either the most dangerous man I've ever met," she said, "or the most foolish. I haven't decided which yet. But I'll tell you what—the Lannisters are already my enemies since Cersei helped that dirty bastard who calls himself the High Sparrow put both my grandchildren in a dungeon. So I'm willing to join your kingdom. But you have to save my grandchildren, get us out of King's Landing safely, and I want to see your dragon with my own eyes."
Jacob smiled. "Alright. I will save the future of your house, get you all safely out of King's Landing, and show you Kisarax. In return, you will swear allegiance to me and join my kingdom."
Olenna nodded. "You have my word."
Jacob stood up. "I'll be right back."
He disappeared.
Olenna looked at Stiles. "Where did he go?"
Stiles shrugged. "He went to bring your grandchildren, I guess."
Olenna's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Does he really have multiple wives?"
Stiles nodded. "Yeah. Five of them. And probably six soon."
Olenna went silent, her mind clearly working. Stiles realized she was probably thinking of marrying her granddaughter to Jacob, but he wisely chose to say nothing.
---
The Great Sept of Baelor — Margaery's Cell
Jacob appeared in front of Margaery's cell in the Sept of Baelor. He busted the door open and entered.
Margaery, who had been tortured by Septa Unella for days, was huddled in the corner, trembling with fear. She looked up, her eyes wide with terror.
Jacob called out, "Come on. Let's go. Your grandmother is waiting."
Margaery stared at him, momentarily speechless.
Jacob sighed dramatically. "Being handsome can be troublesome sometimes."
He walked to her, and she didn't remove her eyes from him until he grabbed her arm and made her stand.
Margaery came back to her senses and backed away. "Who are you?"
Jacob's voice was calm. "I'm your new king. Now let's go get your brother and leave this disgusting place."
Margaery's brow furrowed. "What do you mean by 'the new king'? My husband is the king."
Jacob ignored her and used his x-ray vision to look through the walls until he found Loras in his cell. He grabbed Margaery with his telekinesis, teleported them to Loras's cell, cast a cleaning spell on both of them, then grabbed them both and teleported back to Olenna's chambers.
---
Olenna, who had been deep in thought, suddenly saw Jacob appear with both her grandchildren. She stood up and hugged Margaery tightly.
"Oh, my dear," Olenna said, her voice thick with emotion. "What have they done to you?"
Margaery didn't say anything. She just burst into tears.
Mace looked awkwardly at his son and didn't know what to do.
After Margaery calmed down, Olenna checked on Loras, then sat down with Margaery and looked at Jacob. "I want to add another condition."
Jacob, who had just dismissed the system notification of the quest completed and left the sign-in for later, looked at her. "No. You may not. We already made a deal. And do keep in mind that like I brought them here, I can take them back where they were in the blink of an eye. And you can do nothing to stop me."
Olenna said, "I don't want to go back on my word. This condition will be to your liking. But even if you refuse it, I'll still keep my word."
Jacob's eyes narrowed. "I'm listening." He saw Stiles smirking and frowned, turning back to Olenna.
Olenna's voice was calm. "I want you to marry my granddaughter."
Margaery's eyes went wide. "Grandmother! I'm a married woman!"
Olenna's voice was sharp. "Don't remind me of that useless little cunt you call a husband. He is the king and couldn't even get you out. Useless piece of shit."
Margaery's voice was strained. "Calm down, Grandmother."
Olenna sighed. "Anyway, you will end your marriage with Tommen."
Margaery's brow furrowed. "I can't do that, Grandmother. What will people say about me?"
Olenna opened her mouth to respond, but Jacob cut her off. "Ladies, there's no need for you to discuss a divorce or an annulment or whatever you call it. I don't want to marry Margaery."
Olenna's eyes narrowed. "Why?"
Jacob's voice was flat. "She's not my type."
Olenna's brow furrowed. "Isn't she a beauty?"
Jacob looked at Margaery and nodded. "Indeed she is a beauty. But I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about her personality. She will not fit with my other wives."
Margaery's eyes went wide. "You have other wives? That's against the law! The Faith does not permit it!"
Jacob's voice was calm. "I will remake the laws. As for the Faith, I don't believe in the Seven. I only believe in the one true God—the Creator of everything."
Margaery looked at her grandmother. "Who is this guy?"
Olenna's voice was tired. "Our new king." She addressed Jacob. "Do you really not want to marry her?"
Jacob shook his head. "No. She's not my type."
He turned to Loras, who was looking at him like a man appreciating fine art—eyes tracing every detail. Jacob's voice dropped cold. "If you keep staring at me like that, I will kill you."
Loras, who had been tortured by the Sparrows until he had become timid, flinched and looked away.
Jacob turned back to Olenna. "By the way, Olenna. I don't want your son or your grandson to be the head of House Tyrell."
Olenna frowned. "Why?"
Jacob's voice was cold. "I don't like your grandson. I don't want him looking at me like that every time we meet. Only women are allowed to look at me like that—not men." He looked at Mace. "And your son is a fool."
Mace cowered behind his mother's chair, his voice trembling. "Please, I beg you—spare me! I'll give up my lordship. I'll do anything. Just please, don't kill me!"
Olenna looked at her son with disgust. "What's wrong with you, you coward?"
Mace's voice was trembling. "Mother, do you remember the sorcerer I told you about—the one who appeared in the small council chamber and tortured Ser Meryn Trant by beating him half to death, then healing him with a wave of his hand, only to beat him again and heal him and repeat that until Ser Meryn Trant lost his mind?" He pointed at Jacob. "It's him!"
Olenna and Margaery both looked at Jacob.
Jacob's voice was calm. "I'm not a sorcerer." He looked at Mace. "Get up. I don't want to harm you, you old fool."
Stiles asked, "Jacob, who is Meryn Trant?"
Jacob's voice was cold. "Some idiot knight who used to beat Sansa when she was captive here in King's Landing."
Stiles smirked. "I see. I assume that poor bastard is dead?"
Jacob nodded. "Yeah. I took him to Sansa and Arya. Arya tortured him until he was begging for a merciful death."
Jacob turned back to Olenna. "Anyway, Olenna, you should be the head of House Tyrell—or your granddaughter. The men of your house are... incompetent."
Olenna nodded. "Okay. I'll do it. Although my stupid son was the Lord of Highgarden, I was always the one who really made the decisions."
Jacob nodded approvingly. "Good." He looked at Margaery. "Now, about Tommen. Do you love him? Or was he just a tool?"
Margaery's brow furrowed. "Why do you ask? Do you intend to kill him? He may be a Lannister, but he's innocent and kind."
Jacob shook his head. "No. You misunderstood. I don't want to harm him. I only asked to know if you want to take him with you to Highgarden or abandon him here. Let's just say that he was kind to my wife when she needed kindness the most—even if he probably doesn't remember it. But I don't like owing people anything. So I want to save him from this place. We both know you played that boy too much, and he is deeply in love with you. If you leave him here, either he will starve himself to death, or try to take his own life, or Cersei will either turn him evil like his bastard brother or get him killed. So answer my question."
Margaery was silent for a long moment. Then she said, "I'm not sure how I feel about him. But he is my husband, and if you can help me take him with us, that would be great." She turned to her grandmother. "But do we really have to leave King's Landing and follow this strange king? I mean, I'm the Queen. If we can get rid of Cersei, we can be the rulers of the Seven Kingdoms."
Olenna shook her head. "That's impossible with him around."
Margaery looked at Jacob. "From which house is he?"
Olenna's voice was tired. "It doesn't matter, dear. He has a thirty-thousand-man army with giants and mammoths among them. He and his family wield powers we can't comprehend. And he's married to Sansa Stark. That means he'll have the North soon enough—and likely the Vale as well. And the most important thing is that he has a giant dragon. So you see, even if we kill Cersei now and rule Westeros, it will only be for a little while until he comes for us. Or he might kill us right now."
Mace's voice was tinged with panic. "Margaery, please—listen to your grandmother. We cannot afford to provoke His Grace."
Jacob said, "Alright, Olenna. Gather your things and your men. Let's go. I still have to go meet someone." He paused. "And remember to apologize to Sansa when you meet her."
Olenna's brow furrowed. "Apologize for what?"
Jacob's voice was cold. "For using her as a scapegoat when you poisoned Joffrey to death."
Olenna's eyes widened. "How did you know I was the one who poisoned him?"
Jacob's expression was flat. "Littlefinger confessed before we killed him. And he did not die a quick death. So be sure to apologize to Sansa."
Olenna nodded slowly. "I never meant to harm her. But I will apologize to her when we meet."
Jacob nodded. Olenna left with her family to gather her men and things.
Jacob teleported to the throne room and used his x-ray vision to find Tommen's room. He appeared there, finding the young king lying listlessly in bed with his cat.
Jacob woke him up and told him he could leave with Margaery, but he had to give up the throne.
Tommen didn't think twice. He chose to leave King's Landing and his mother and give up the throne.
Jacob teleported with him and his cat back to Olenna's quarters and sat waiting with Stiles until Olenna returned and told him they were ready to leave.
Jacob teleported her, all her people, Tommen, and Stiles to Highgarden's front gate—he had visited the place before with his wives. Everyone except Stiles was disoriented, and some vomited. They were shocked, not understanding how they had traveled from King's Landing to Highgarden in the blink of an eye.
---
After everyone had recovered, Jacob teleported Stiles, Olenna, and Margaery to a wilderness area far from Highgarden. He summoned Kisarax from Serendell.
Kisarax emerged from the portal, her massive form blotting out the sun. Her scales shimmered like obsidian, and her eyes glowed with ancient wisdom and power. She was immense—larger than anything Olenna had ever seen or imagined.
Jacob stood before Kisarax and spoke to her in High Valyrian. Kisarax rumbled in response, her voice shaking the ground beneath their feet.
After a few moments, Jacob sent Kisarax back through the portal to Serendell.
Olenna and Margaery slowly came back to their senses.
Olenna's voice was barely a whisper. "When you told me about your dragon, I didn't believe you. Or perhaps I refused to—because believing would have meant accepting how powerless I truly am."
Jacob smiled. "I was surprised when I first saw her too. I didn't think a dragon that big was living in this world."
Olenna's voice was filled with awe. "Alright. With that dragon, I would be a fool not to join you."
She swore allegiance to Jacob, her voice steady and sincere. Jacob asked her to cut her supplies to King's Landing and told her that in a few days, he would come back to visit and give her something she could use to communicate with him.
Then he took her and Margaery back to Highgarden. He and Stiles rose into the air, flying toward Meereen using Jacob's telekinesis.
Chapter 222: Meeting Daenerys
July 24
The journey from Highgarden to Meereen took only one minute. Jacob used his teleportation ability, blinking across the vast distances randomly in Meereen's direction, each jump covering hundreds of miles.
"Next time," Stiles gasped as they materialized on a dusty street in Meereen, "warn me before you do that. I've gotten used to teleporting, but doing it multiple times still makes me feel sick."
Jacob grinned. "Where's your sense of adventure?"
"It's currently in my throat, trying to escape."
The sun was beginning its descent toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and gold. Meereen was a city of stark contrasts—grand pyramids towering over humble hovels, wealthy merchants rubbing shoulders with freed slaves, the scent of exotic spices mixing with the stench of unwashed bodies.
Jacob drew immediate attention. His regal attire, with its gold filigree and crimson accents, marked him as someone of immense importance. His sword, Griffin, hung at his waist, and his confident stride spoke of power and authority. Stiles, despite his noble clothes, didn't draw too much attention—people just looked at him once, then focused on Jacob.
People stopped and stared.
Jacob used his superhearing, filtering through the noise to understand the mood of the city.
From the Freedmen—the former slaves—he heard immense gratitude, but also growing anxiety and fear.
"Mysa!" people called Daenerys constantly, using the Ghiscari Valyrian word for "Mother." To them, Daenerys was a savior who had broken their chains and given them freedom.
But then came the whispers of terror. "Why isn't she protecting us?"
The Sons of the Harpy were murdering freedmen. The former slaves felt vulnerable, questioning why their powerful Mother wasn't completely wiping out their enemies.
"She is forgetting our traditions," others complained. The closure of the fighting pits had frustrated even some freedmen. In Meereen, the pits weren't just for slaves—they were a massive part of the city's culture, entertainment, and economy. Free gladiators were suddenly out of work and broke, complaining that Daenerys had ruined their livelihoods.
Jacob's expression remained neutral as he processed the information.
From the Great Masters—the former slavers—he heard pure, venomous hatred spoken in harsh Meereenese Valyrian.
They called Daenerys "The Foreign Whore." They called her "The Usurper." The wealthy elite viewed Daenerys as an invading barbarian who had destroyed their economy, stolen their property, and insulted their ancient heritage.
"She cannot rule us." They mocked her inability to maintain order, pointing to the chaos in the streets as proof that Meereen needed its old laws back.
Support for the Harpy was whispered in dark corners. While they wouldn't say it out loud in the streets, the wealthy citizens secretly cheered for the Sons of the Harpy in their homes. On the streets, Jacob caught people subtly celebrating the news of dead Unsullied found in alleys overnight.
Down by the bustling docks, foreign merchants from Qarth, Volantis, and New Ghis were furious.
"She has ruined trade." They complained that her anti-slavery laws had completely collapsed the economy of Slaver's Bay. Shipping lanes were disrupted, prices were skyrocketing, and the city was under an economic blockade. They blamed her entirely for turning a rich empire into a war zone.
Jacob also heard that Daenerys would be at Daznak's Pit tomorrow to attend the Great Games—to celebrate the reopening of the fighting pits.
He translated everything to Stiles as they walked.
Stiles listened, his expression thoughtful. "So, are we going to conquer this place too?"
Jacob shook his head. "No. Westeros is enough for us."
Stiles nodded. "So, where to now?"
Jacob smirked. "Let's go meet the Dragon Queen."
They headed toward the Great Pyramid.
---
Soon they arrived. The Great Pyramid loomed before them, its massive steps leading up to the grand entrance. Unsullied guards stood at attention, their faces expressionless, their spears gleaming in the fading sunlight. They moved with perfect discipline, their eyes scanning the crowd for threats.
Jacob approached them and spoke in High Valyrian, his voice calm and confident. "I wish to see the Queen."
The lead guard studied him, his eyes narrowing slightly, and he responded in Valyrian. "Who are you?"
Jacob smiled and said in flawless Valyrian, "I am her future husband. Tell her that."
The guard's expression didn't change, but he exchanged a glance with his companion. He nodded and turned to enter the pyramid.
---
The Council Chamber
Inside the Great Pyramid, Daenerys Targaryen sat at a council table with Tyrion Lannister, Grey Worm, and Missandei. They were discussing the fighting pits and the Sons of the Harpy. The conversation had been tense, the weight of ruling Meereen crushing down on Daenerys's shoulders.
Daenerys was tired. The peace treaty with Hizdahr zo Loraq felt more like a surrender than a victory, and the constant threat of assassination was wearing on her.
Then a guard entered, bowed, and spoke in Valyrian. "Your Grace, a man who claims to be your future husband wishes to see you."
Daenerys frowned, assuming it was Hizdahr zo Loraq—the man she had agreed to marry to legitimize her crown, appease the furious upper class, stop the Sons of the Harpy, and bring peace to the city.
"Let him in," she said in Valyrian.
When the guard left, she looked at Tyrion. "What does Hizdahr zo Loraq want now?"
Tyrion smirked. "Maybe he misses you."
Daenerys rolled her eyes. Missandei smiled softly.
---
The guard returned to Jacob and invited him in.
Jacob looked at Stiles. "Well, that was easy. I thought she would refuse and we would have to sneak in or something."
Stiles shrugged. "Maybe she wants to see who's brave enough to claim to be her husband before she kills him."
Jacob grinned. "Or maybe she heard about my handsomeness and already accepted to marry me. Let's go."
They followed the guard to the council chamber.
---
Daenerys was talking with Tyrion when the guard came back with Jacob and Stiles behind him.
The moment Daenerys laid eyes on Jacob, she was stunned.
She felt a powerful attraction to him—something deep and primal that made her heart race and her breath catch. She studied him: tall, dark-haired, handsome in a way that was almost unsettling. His clothes marked him as a king, and his eyes held a confidence that bordered on arrogance.
She couldn't look away. 'What a handsome man!' she thought, her cheeks flushing.
Tyrion said, "That's not Hizdahr zo Loraq." He shouted, "Guards!"
Grey Worm also realized that Jacob was a stranger. He shot to his feet and drew his shortsword, shouting in Valyrian for the guards.
The Unsullied outside the chamber entered, weapons drawn, aimed at Jacob and Stiles.
Stiles smirked. "It seems we were not who they were expecting."
Jacob ignored the guards completely. His eyes were fixed on Daenerys. She was wearing a white dress that complemented her silver-gold hair and blue-green eyes.
He thought, 'Beautiful. I'm definitely marrying her. Even if I have to kidnap her... Oh no, my hoarding instinct and greed are acting up again.'
He smiled at her. "Is this how you treat your guests, Dany?"
Daenerys heard him call her Dany, and her heart skipped a beat. She blushed and thought, 'What's wrong with me? All I can think about is taking this man to my room and making him mine. Forever.'
What she didn't know was that Jacob's charm was working on her. Since he was interested in her, and since she had a connection with dragons, his charm was affecting her twice as strongly as any normal woman.
Missandei called, "Your Grace?" But Daenerys just stared at Jacob.
Missandei caught her hand and called again, louder. "Your Grace!"
Daenerys blinked and looked at her. "W-What?"
Missandei leaned in and whispered, "Your Grace, you keep staring at that man without blinking. Your face is all red. I called you several times, and you didn't respond. We need to figure out who he is."
Daenerys cleared her throat awkwardly and looked back at Jacob. "Who are you?"
Jacob winked at her. "Your future husband."
Daenerys blushed again, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson.
Missandei stepped forward, her voice sharp. "Show some respect. You are standing in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, rightful heir to the Iron Throne, rightful Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, the Mother of Dragons, the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains."
Daenerys raised her chin, looking smug and proud.
Tyrion caught her reaction and frowned. 'Something's off. She's behaving like a child—or, if I didn't know any better, like a lovesick girl.'
Stiles smirked. "With all her titles, at least we know she's as arrogant as you. And with the looks she's giving you, I think she's a pervert too."
Jacob glared at him. "Shut up and introduce me."
Stiles said, "Fine, fine."
He took a step forward, making Grey Worm and the guards tense and raise their weapons.
Stiles cleared his throat, puffed out his chest, and declared in his best heraldic voice, "Hear ye, hear ye! Presenting His Grace, King Jacob Flameborn of House Alexandre, King of Serendell, King of Dragons, Future King of Westeros, Protector of Women, Father of Dragons, the Most Handsome Man Alive, the Demon Slayer, King of the Free Folk and Giants, the Husband That Was Promised, Collector of Wives, Husband of Many, Prince Charming, Tamer of Hearts, and—let it be known—the King of Perverts, who didn't even spare a coyote and a bird and married them both. His life motto is: 'Why marry one when you can have them all?'"
Daenerys and Missandei's jaws dropped at the ridiculous introduction.
Tyrion's face twitched, but he quickly composed himself as he realized that Jacob was the man Kinvara the red priestess had told them about a week ago.
Jacob smiled and patted Stiles on the back hard. "Nice. I love how you introduced me. But next time, don't say I'm a pervert who married a coyote and a bird. People who don't understand will think I'm into bestiality."
Stiles bowed dramatically with a smirk. "Noted, Your Grace."
Jacob leaned in and whispered, "I know you still want to say that again. But if you do, I'll tell Erica that you want a harem, and all she has to do is ask you, and she'll know if you lied to her. And even if you can deal with her, I still have Cogman. I'll shrink him and ask him to get inside you and play with your organs from time to time."
Stiles paled. "Alright, alright. I will never say that again. Just don't let Cogman get inside my body."
Jacob looked at Daenerys. "Hey, Dany. Could you please tell your guards to lower their weapons? I don't like people pointing weapons at me."
Daenerys studied him for a moment, her eyes searching his face. Then she spoke in Valyrian, telling the guards to lower their weapons and leave.
The guards obeyed, filing out of the room. Only Grey Worm remained, moving to stand behind Daenerys's chair, watching Jacob and Stiles warily.
Jacob and Stiles walked to the table and sat down.
Daenerys's eyes never left Jacob. She said, "Missandei, serve our guests some wine."
Jacob shook his head. "Don't. We don't drink, and I don't like the smell of it."
Tyrion raised his hand. "I would like a drink."
Daenerys glared at him. "No drink for you."
Jacob looked at Tyrion. "I just saw your sister an hour ago. She's miserable."
Tyrion blinked. "That's impossible. She's in King's Landing."
Jacob shrugged. "I know. I was in King's Landing an hour ago."
Tyrion's eyes widened. "Do you know how far King's Landing is from Meereen?"
Jacob smirked and wrapped Tyrion and Daenerys in his telekinesis. They disappeared from the chamber.
Missandei and Grey Worm panicked, their queen, Tyrion, and the strange man gone in an instant.
Stiles raised his hands placatingly. "Calm down. They'll be back soon."
---
King's Landing
High above King's Landing, Jacob appeared with the disoriented Daenerys and Tyrion, hovering in the air with his telekinesis.
Both Tyrion and Daenerys screamed as their dizziness faded and they realized they were high in the sky. The city sprawled beneath them, a patchwork of streets and buildings, the Red Keep gleaming in the distance.
Jacob caught Daenerys in his arms. "Don't be afraid. You won't fall."
Daenerys saw Jacob's face so close to hers and blushed. She looked away, forgetting her fear, and thought, 'What's wrong with me? I feel so happy being in this man's arms. He definitely did something to me.'
Jacob smiled as he looked at her, then glared at Tyrion. "Would you shut up, man? You're not going to fall."
Tyrion kept screaming until Jacob slapped him. He stopped screaming and caught Jacob's leg, refusing to let go.
Jacob shouted. "Hey, let go of my leg, you bastard. Only women are allowed to hug me."
Tyrion shook his head. "No. I'm not letting go."
Daenerys looked down at the city beneath them. "Is this really King's Landing?"
Jacob ignored Tyrion. "Yes."
Daenerys looked at him, her eyes wide with wonder. "But how did we get here? And how are we floating in the air?"
Jacob's voice was calm. "It's one of my abilities. Just like fire doesn't burn you, and you can control dragons."
Daenerys looked down at the city again. "So this is my home."
Jacob asked, "Do you want to see the throne room?"
Daenerys turned to him with excitement. "Yes..." She blushed again when she realized how close he was and looked away.
Jacob whispered in her ear, "Give me a kiss first, and I'll take you."
Daenerys glared at him. "No. You've already molested me enough. And take your hands off my ass."
Jacob chuckled. "Fair enough."
He teleported the three of them to the throne room.
Daenerys looked around, her eyes wide with awe. The throne room was vast, its ceiling vaulted and grand. And there, at the end of the hall, sat the Iron Throne—a monstrosity of twisted steel and jagged edges, forged from the swords of the enemies of her ancestors.
She tried to get out of Jacob's embrace but found she couldn't. She gave him a look. "Aren't you going to let go of me yet?"
Jacob sighed and reluctantly let her go.
Daenerys walked toward the Iron Throne, her steps slow and reverent.
Jacob looked down at Tyrion, who was still clinging to his leg. His face darkened. "Tyrion, believe it or not, I will beat your ass if you don't let go of my leg."
Tyrion let go and sat on the ground, his legs shaking. "Sorry. I still can't control my legs yet."
Jacob ignored him and followed Daenerys, standing beside her in front of the Iron Throne.
"You can sit on it if you want," he said. "But it's really uncomfortable."
Daenerys rolled her eyes. "It doesn't matter if it's comfortable or not. What matters is what it represents and what it means to me."
Jacob asked, "Do you want me to help you steal it?"
Daenerys shook her head. "You still don't understand."
Jacob's voice was calm. "I understand very well. It was made by your ancestors, so it means so much to you. And whoever earns the right to sit on this uncomfortable throne means he or she is the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms."
Daenerys touched the throne, her fingers tracing the cold steel. Then she turned to Jacob. "This is not how I want to sit on it."
Jacob nodded. "Alright."
Tyrion finally managed to stand and looked around the empty throne room. "Where is Cersei and Tommen?"
Jacob smirked. "Well, Cersei is in the dungeons of the Sept of Baelor. You see, she gave power to some fanatics to deal with the Tyrells, and those fanatics turned on her and captured her for the sins of killing Robert Baratheon and incest. She's miserable, but she will get out eventually, I guess."
Tyrion asked, "And Tommen?"
Jacob said, "Before she was caught, Cersei helped those fanatics put Margaery and Loras Tyrell in the dungeons. I saved Margaery and her brother, and in return, Olenna swore allegiance to me. When I took them to Highgarden, Tommen chose to give up the throne and go with his wife."
Tyrion's eyes widened. "Is he safe there?"
Jacob nodded. "Don't worry. I'm not using him as a hostage or anything. I don't play those kinds of dirty games. He will be much safer in Highgarden than here next to Cersei."
Tyrion asked, "Are you sure? Olenna was probably the one who killed Joffrey."
Jacob's voice was firm. "I give you my word. Tommen will come to no harm from the Tyrells."
Tyrion sighed in relief. "Good. Although Cersei loves her children very much, that kid Tommen is too innocent. She will either break him and turn him evil or get him killed. He will be safer away from her."
Jacob turned to Daenerys, who had walked to the window and was looking out at the city. "Dany, shall we return to Meereen? We still have much to discuss about the future."
Daenerys sighed. "Give me a moment. I want to see the city my ancestors built."
Jacob said, "Then let's go see it up close."
He teleported the three of them to the streets of King's Landing, and they walked there for a while.
Jacob walked side by side with Daenerys without speaking, while Tyrion followed from behind, still slightly shaken from the experience.
Jacob and Daenerys were too eye-catching. Whenever the Gold Cloaks approached to ask questions, Jacob just used his Conqueror's Haki and knocked them out. Daenerys and Tyrion exchanged a glance after he used it the first time, then ignored it after that.
After an hour, Daenerys said, "Alright, let's go back to Meereen."
Jacob pulled her into a hug. She stiffened. "What are you doing?"
"I need to touch you to teleport you back," he replied smoothly.
Daenerys's cheeks flushed, but her eyes narrowed. "You didn't touch me when you brought me here. You only hugged me after we were already above King's Landing."
Jacob shrugged. "Don't worry about the details."
He wrapped Tyrion in his telekinesis and teleported the three of them back to the council chamber in the Great Pyramid of Meereen.
Tyrion fell to the ground the moment they appeared, and Jacob helped Daenerys sit back on her chair.
Stiles, who was playing on his phone, said, "What took you so long, man?"
Jacob sat down. "Dany wanted to take a stroll in King's Landing."
Grey Worm sighed in relief when he saw his queen back, and Missandei walked to her. "Your Grace, are you okay?"
Daenerys rubbed her temples. "I'm fine. I'm just a little dizzy."
Tyrion sat up and brushed himself off. "I'm fine, too. Thanks for asking."
Missandei didn't spare him a single glance.
Tyrion sighed and stood up, sitting at the table. He looked at Jacob. "Alright, King Jacob. Why are you here in Meereen?"
Jacob looked at Daenerys, his eyes locking with hers. "I'm here for her."
Chapter 223: The Dragon and the Mother of Dragons
July 25
After returning from their tour of King's Landing, they settled around the council table.
Jacob sat calmly, his gaze locked on Daenerys with an intensity that made her heart race. Torchlight flickered across his face, casting shadows that made him appear both regal and dangerous.
Tyrion broke the silence. "Alright, King Jacob—why have you come to Meereen?"
Jacob didn't look away from Daenerys. "I'm here for her. I want to marry her."
Daenerys's eyes narrowed. "First, tell me what you did to me. Why do I feel such a strong attraction to you?"
Jacob leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "I didn't do anything to you. You see, I have this passive ability—makes me more charming to women I'm interested in. It's not magic, not mind control, not manipulation. Just makes me a bit more appealing. That's all." He studied her blushing face thoughtfully. "But maybe it's affecting you more than other women because of what I am and what runs in your veins."
Daenerys frowned. "What do you mean by that?"
Jacob said, "They say that Targaryens have dragon blood in their veins. Maybe that's why you're feeling such a strong attraction to me."
Tyrion interjected, his voice carrying a note of curiosity. "Do you also have dragon blood in your veins?"
Jacob smiled enigmatically. "You could say that."
Daenerys leaned forward, her eyes narrowing with interest. "Do you have Valyrian blood? Are you a Targaryen or a descendant of another dragonlord family from Old Valyria?"
Jacob shook his head. "No. I'm not a descendant of any dragonlord family."
Daenerys pressed further. "Then how do you have dragon blood?"
Jacob's smirk widened. "Marry me, and I'll tell you."
Daenerys snorted. "I heard you have more than one wife."
"Yes. But don't worry—I treat my wives equally and make sure they are all happy." Jacob paused. "But I'm surprised you heard of me even in Meereen."
Tyrion said, "We heard you conquered the Free Folk and the North. We heard you have strange, dark powers. We were told you are a sorcerer. A demon. That you have aligned yourself with forces that would destroy the world. That you are an evil that must be stopped."
Jacob gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest in mock offense. "Who is slandering me?" He turned to Stiles. "Is it you who is spreading bad rumors about me?"
Stiles shrugged. "Not me, man. Why would I do that? Maybe it was Cogman. Maybe he thought if he told people that you are a demon that will destroy the world, they would attack you, and he could have fun killing them."
Jacob thought for a moment. "That sounds like something he would do. But no, it's not him—he's still busy with the satellites and the weapons."
He turned to Daenerys. "Who told you those rumors about me?"
Daenerys's expression was serious. "A woman named Kinvara told me about you. She said she is the High Priestess of the Red Temple of Volantis. She told me that you are a threat to me and the entire world, and that I am the only one who can stop you and save the world."
Jacob's eyes flashed with cold amusement. "That bastard R'hllor is spreading bad rumors about me. Stiles, remind me later to destroy the Red Temple of Volantis."
Stiles asked, "Why not just kill R'hllor and be done with it?"
Jacob said, "That would be boring. He's probably the only creature in this world that can give me a good fight. Let him live for a while and send his servants to try to kill me. That will make life more interesting. Maybe he'll even team up with other hidden demons in this world to deal with me."
Stiles gave him a look. "Then isn't letting him live just stupid and dangerous?"
"No, it's not," Jacob said, his tone casual. "I'm dangerous myself, as you know. And Allison and the others are dangerous too. We can kill a few demons."
Daenerys and the others were shocked about what the two lunatics were discussing.
Tyrion finally found his voice. "Are you two seriously talking about killing a god?"
Jacob looked at him and said, "Don't be stupid. There's only one God—and He can't be killed or harmed."
Tyrion leaned forward, genuinely intrigued. "Tell me more about your God. I want to know what you believe in."
Jacob's expression softened, and for a moment, the dangerous edge in his demeanor faded, replaced by something deeper—something approaching reverence.
"To me, there is only one true God—the Eternal, the First, who existed before all creation, with nothing before Him. He is the source of all existence, the Creator of all things. He neither begets nor is born, nor was He created. He simply is."
He paused, letting the words sink in.
"If He wants something, He simply wills it, and it is. He is all-powerful, omnipotent. He doesn't demand blood. He doesn't ask us to burn our enemies alive to prove our devotion. He gives us life, free will, and the capacity to choose between good and evil. He lets us make our own choices. And He alone will judge us all with absolute justice after we die. That is the only God worth worshipping. That is my belief. That is my faith."
Tyrion raised an eyebrow. "And what about the other gods?"
Jacob shook his head firmly. "I don't believe in them. I don't believe they are gods. Like I said, to me, there is only one true God, and anything—or anyone—worshiped besides Him is a false god. But I'm not here to force my beliefs on anyone. God gave us free will and intellect to choose our own path. He gave us the ability to reason, to question, and to seek the truth for ourselves."
He met their eyes, one by one.
"Everyone is free to believe what they wish. I won't burn people for it. I won't punish them for it—as long as they don't worship demons and burn people in their name, of course. That will not be allowed in my kingdom."
Tyrion nodded slowly. "That's a nice faith you have. Maybe I will convert."
Jacob smiled. "Maybe you should."
Daenerys spoke up, her voice thoughtful. "Kinvara told us you are a demon. Of course, I don't believe her, but why should I believe you? Why should I believe that R'hllor is a demon?"
Jacob gestured to Tyrion. "Let's talk about facts. Tyrion, could you please tell us what the red priestesses and priests do in the name of R'hllor?"
Tyrion's expression turned sour. "They burn non-believers because the Lord of Light apparently enjoys a good barbecue. They stare into the flames until their eyes go red, claiming they can read the future like a maester reads a scroll, though they usually manage to misread the most important parts. And if you don't bow down to their glowing heart standard, they'll happily carve your own out to keep the night from getting too chilly."
He looked at Daenerys and continued. "But it's the human sacrifices where they truly shine. They'll look a man in the eye, tell him his blood has royal magic, and then roast him like a prize pig just to see if the wind changes direction. They call it a sacred offering to keep the darkness at bay."
He turned to Jacob. "That's all I know about them."
Jacob nodded approvingly. "Stiles, tell us what demons are."
Stiles leaned forward at the table, his voice dropping to a serious tone. "Demons are powerful supernatural creatures. They come to humans wearing masks of beauty or majesty, usually pretending to be gods. They whisper promises of unstoppable power, forbidden knowledge, or deepest desires fulfilled. And then they demand a price—blood, a sacrifice of the innocent. They especially like babies and virgin girls, for some reason. They claim the price is the fair cost of the bargain."
He paused, looking at everyone around the table.
"But a deal with a demon is always a cruel trick. Every gift they give is a cage. The power they lend is never enough, so people keep sacrificing more and more for them, keep obeying their demands. The knowledge they give drives people mad. And the moment you accept a demon's offer, the demon begins to feast—not on your flesh, but on your soul. It drains you piece by piece until nothing remains but a hollow shell, bound to its will forever. By the time you realize you've been duped, you no longer own yourself. The demon owns you."
Stiles leaned back in his chair. "That's what demons are."
Jacob looked at Daenerys. "That's all you need to know to draw your own conclusion."
Daenerys's brow furrowed. "Aren't they like humans? Isn't there good and evil among them?"
Jacob shrugged. "I don't know. We've met three of them so far, and they are all evil. Maybe there are good and kind demons, but we haven't met one yet."
Daenerys pressed further. "Why is R'hllor targeting you? Why would he say you are a danger to the world?"
Jacob's expression grew cold. "I met him before. When I fought Stannis and his army, there was a red priestess called Melisandre with Stannis. She convinced him to burn his own eleven-year-old daughter so R'hllor would give him powers to win against me and sit on the Iron Throne. She even convinced Stannis that he was the hero that was promised to save humanity."
Missandei gasped. "Did he agree to burn his own daughter?"
Jacob nodded grimly. "Yes. Stannis and his wife agreed to burn Shireen. They tied her to a stake with another hundred men from his army, ready to burn them all. But I saved the little girl along with the hundred men. She's now living with my family."
Daenerys exhaled slowly. "That's good."
Jacob continued. "Anyway, I provoked R'hllor—who was watching me through Melisandre—until he possessed her and talked to me personally. Let's just say I made him very angry, then killed his servant and promised him that one day I would kill him too."
Daenerys asked, "That's why he hates you and wants me to join his priests to fight against you?"
Jacob nodded. "I think it's more fear than hate. I think he's scared of me."
Tyrion raised an eyebrow. "Are you powerful enough to scare something that ancient?"
Stiles looked at Tyrion with a smile. "Trumpkin, you have no idea what this pervert can do."
Jacob looked at Stiles. "Trumpkin?"
Stiles said, "The dwarf from one of The Chronicles of Narnia films."
Jacob's expression brightened with recognition. "Oh, I remember now." He looked at Tyrion. "It's really him."
Tyrion's brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?"
Jacob smiled. "We're talking about your doppelganger—a man who looks exactly like you from where we are. His name is Peter Dinklage."
Missandei looked at Jacob with confusion. "Excuse me, you are a king, right?"
Jacob nodded. "Yes."
Missandei pointed at Stiles. "Why does he keep disrespecting you and calling you a pervert?"
Jacob gave Stiles an evil smile. "She's right. I should punish you when we go back home, peasant."
Stiles said, "Come on, it's not like you care if I call you a pervert."
Jacob shrugged. "I don't care, but you should respect me in front of outsiders."
Stiles said, "I don't see any outsiders here." He looked at Daenerys. "I only see your wife and her people."
Jacob laughed heartily. "Good, good. You're right—my wife's people are my people. I will not punish you anymore."
Daenerys shot Stiles a glare. "Who said I agreed to marry him?"
Stiles grinned unapologetically. "My apologies, Your Highness. I just assumed the constant blushing and the dreamy looks you've been giving him since we got here meant something. You know—like you're falling for him. Guess I read that wrong."
Daenerys's face flushed crimson. She turned to Jacob with barely contained anger. "I demand you send your lowly vulgar servant outside!"
Jacob said, "Alright, Stiles, stop with the jokes." He looked at Daenerys. "He's not my servant—he's my friend, and my brother-in-law or whatever you call the stepbrother of your wife. Anyway, he's family."
Daenerys's voice was sharp. "I don't like him."
Jacob shrugged. "I don't like him either sometimes. Anyway, you can beat him after you marry me—or just ask Cogman to do it. He would love to beat Stiles and torture him for you."
Stiles panicked and said, "Hey, hey, hey, don't give her ideas." He looked at Daenerys. "I'm sorry if I was rude. Just don't ask Cogman to do anything to me. You know what, why don't I leave and take everyone here with me so you can be alone with Jacob?"
Daenerys narrowed her eyes at him.
Stiles raised his hands. "Okay, okay, I'll leave alone." He stood up and said to Jacob, "See you later, man." Then he teleported back to Serendell.
Jacob looked at Daenerys with a smile. "Don't worry about Stiles. He's just an idiot."
Tyrion said, "That Stiles—he has powers too?"
Jacob nodded. "Yes. Everyone in my family has powers."
Daenerys studied Jacob with her piercing blue-green eyes.
"Do you really have a dragon?" she asked.
Jacob nodded. "Yes. In fact, I have two. Little Alex is about the size of a horse now—he grows fast. And I have a big one. Her name is Kisarax. You guys will be shocked when you see her. Also, each of my wives has one."
Daenerys exchanged a look with Tyrion. They both saw the shock in each other's eyes.
Tyrion found his voice first. "And how many wives do you have, if I may ask?"
Jacob counted on his fingers. "Five without counting Dany."
Daenerys's voice was sharp. "Hey! I'm not your wife!"
Jacob looked at her blushing face and smiled. "You will be."
Tyrion said, "So you have seven dragons?"
Jacob shook his head. "No. There are nine dragons in my family, but only two of them are real ones."
Tyrion's brow furrowed. "What do you mean by that?"
Jacob explained, "The creatures you call dragons—the ones like Daenerys has—we call them wyverns where I'm from. A real dragon has six limbs: two forelegs, two hindlegs, and two wings attached to the shoulders. Wyverns have only four limbs. And dragons are much stronger than wyverns—much, much stronger. They are also highly intelligent, sentient, and capable of speech."
Tyrion asked, "And you have two of these so-called real dragons?"
Jacob nodded. "Yes. There are two in my family, and the other seven are like Dany's dragons. I also have a wyrm—a giant one."
Everyone stared at him in disbelief.
Daenerys came back to her senses first.
"You could take it," she said, her voice carrying genuine curiosity. "The Iron Throne. All of Westeros. You have the army, the dragons, the abilities I've heard of and seen with my own eyes. So why don't you? Why not simply kill Cersei and claim what you could so easily seize?"
Jacob met her gaze, his expression steady and serious. "Because conquering a kingdom and ruling one are two very different things."
He leaned back in his chair, his voice taking on a thoughtful tone. "Could I take the Iron Throne any time I want? Yes. I could march south with my army, or unleash Kisarax upon King's Landing, and reduce the Lannister army and the Red Keep to ash. Or I could simply go there alone—no army, no dragons—and still destroy any army that stood in my way and sit on that twisted pile of swords tomorrow."
"But then what? I'd be king of a shattered continent. The lords would rebel. The smallfolk would starve. My armies would be stretched thin holding territory I'm not ready to hold yet. I'd be enforcing laws that don't yet exist."
"Conquest is the easy part, Dany. Anyone with enough power can break things. The true test—the measure of a king—is what he builds after the dust settles."
Daenerys asked, "So what is your plan, then?"
Jacob said, "I'll conquer the North first and establish my kingdom there. I will build it properly, from the ground up. Laws that apply to everyone—noble and peasant alike. Healthcare so the sick don't die in the streets because they can't afford a maester. Schools so children can learn to read and write, regardless of their birth. An economy that doesn't collapse every time a harvest fails—because we'll have reserves, trade routes, and infrastructure that actually works. And we'll teach farmers better ways to work the land. Crop rotation so the soil doesn't tire out, irrigation so fields don't dry up in summer, and grain stores so no village starves through winter."
He looked at Tyrion and continued.
"Then I'll expand—slowly, methodically. The Vale, the Riverlands, the Reach—one region at a time. Each territory will be integrated into my kingdom before we move to the next. The lords can choose: accept my rule and keep their lands—or resist and lose everything. The common folk will have honest work and fair pay. Their children will learn to read and write without paying a copper. The sick and old will be cared for by the crown. Women who have no one will be given the means to live with dignity—no abuse, no need to sell themselves. And every orphan will be taken in and raised by the kingdom, not left to die in alleys."
He turned back to Daenerys, his eyes meeting hers.
"If I conquer too much too fast, I'll overextend my resources and manpower. I'll have rebellions on every border, supply issues in every region, administrative problems that multiply faster than I can solve them. I'll spend all my time putting out fires instead of building something that lasts. A kingdom built on a solid foundation can withstand any storm. One built on sand will crumble the moment I look away."
Tyrion said, "All of what you said is nice, but you will definitely meet resistance. What will you do to anyone who opposes you?"
Jacob said calmly, "Anyone who takes up arms against me will receive no mercy. I will kill them and keep killing them until they either surrender or perish. Those who surrender but refuse to accept me as their king will have a choice: leave Westeros with everything they can carry—or face the alternative. I think you understand what that means."
Tyrion's voice was sharp. "Aren't you just a ruthless tyrant? A monster?"
Jacob shrugged—slow, almost bored—and his voice carried the weight of absolute certainty. "To build a better world, I have to be ruthless and destroy anyone who stands in my way. Sure, some people will call me a demon, a monster—but I couldn't care less. I will never harm the innocent. I will never burn cities and villages. I will never abuse people. But I will show my cruel side to anyone who dares to be my enemy."
He met Tyrion's gaze, releasing a small fraction of his dragon aura. His eyes glowed crimson with vertical pupils. "Because a king who can't be feared by his enemies will never be loved by his people."
Tyrion jumped from his chair in fear and fell to the floor. Missandei and Grey Worm felt the primal terror too, their bodies tensing with fight-or-flight instinct.
Jacob turned and looked at Daenerys with his glowing red eyes. Instead of fear, Daenerys felt her attraction to him deepen. Her face flushed as she whispered, "Your eyes! Those are a dragon's eyes!"
Jacob's eyes returned to normal, and his voice was serious. "Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen—will you marry me? Stand beside me and my wives, and together we'll build something that will last. I'm not offering you a chair of swords—I'm offering you a kingdom worth ruling."
Daenerys was silent for a long moment, weighing his words. Her eyes studied him, searching for any trace of mockery or hidden intent. She found none.
She spoke carefully. "The Iron Throne is what I've been working toward my entire life. So what if I refuse your marriage? What if I said I want the Iron Throne—I want it to be mine alone?"
Jacob smiled, a confident, knowing smile. "Then I will not force you to marry me, and you're welcome to compete for the Iron Throne. But you won't win—and all you'll achieve is the deaths of your army."
Daenerys studied him for a long moment. Then, slowly, she smiled—a small, genuine smile.
"I didn't think a dangerous man like you would give up on me so easily. I'm disappointed."
Jacob raised a brow. "What? Who said I've given up on marrying you?" His smile was confident, almost cocky. "You will definitely become mine, Dany."
Daenerys's voice was teasing. "Why so sure?"
Jacob's smile widened. "Other than my handsome face, which no woman can say no to, I have something you want more than the Iron Throne."
Daenerys's eyes narrowed. "And what's that?"
Jacob said, "I can heal you."
Daenerys frowned and went silent.
Tyrion, finally finding the courage to stand and sit back in his chair, still wary of Jacob, and looked at Daenerys with concern. "Are you sick?"
Daenerys ignored him completely, her eyes locked on Jacob. "How do you know about that?"
Jacob's voice was gentle. "Let's just say I know a lot of things. You should have never trusted that witch."
Daenerys's voice was barely a whisper. "Can you really heal me from dark magic? Can you really heal me from my curse?"
Jacob nodded. "Yes. I can heal you—and not only me. Two of my wives can heal you too." He paused. "Let me demonstrate my healing abilities."
He looked at Tyrion. "Do you want to get rid of that scar on your face?"
Tyrion smirked, but there was a flicker of interest in his eyes. "Of course not. The ladies love it. It's a good conversation starter."
Jacob's voice was flat. "I'm serious."
Tyrion considered for a moment. Then he shrugged. "Okay. Show us how you will heal it."
Jacob smirked and stood up. Before Tyrion could react, he drew his sword and slashed him accurately across the face, reopening the old wound.
Tyrion fell to the floor screaming.
Daenerys, Grey Worm, and Missandei panicked.
Jacob waved his hand, and a white light shot from his palm, enveloping Tyrion's entire body before fading. He sheathed his sword and kicked Tyrion lightly. "Stop screaming and get up. Your face is already healed."
Tyrion stopped screaming and sat up, wiping the blood from his face. He felt no pain.
Missandei gasped. "You're really healed! There's no scar on your face!"
Daenerys studied Tyrion's face briefly, but she didn't ask Jacob to heal her. She understood the price—his help came with a proposal. Instead, she looked at Grey Worm, then back at Jacob. "Can you heal Grey—"
Jacob interrupted gently. "Sorry. The Unsullied undergo a total and brutal castration called 'The Cut' when they are young boys. The slave masters of Astapor completely removed both their penis and their testicles. I can't regrow missing body parts."
Grey Worm met Jacob's gaze without flinching. "I do not need to be healed. I am what I am. I serve my queen. That is enough."
Jacob and Daenerys exchanged a glance, then sighed in unison. Neither spoke.
Tyrion touched his face, his expression one of wonder. "Did you have to wound me?"
Jacob nodded. "Yes. I can't remove fully healed wounds unless I re-injure them and make them new."
Tyrion's voice was sincere. "Thank you. And I feel my body is much lighter."
Jacob smiled. "You're welcome."
He looked at Daenerys, his expression softening. "You don't have to give me an answer now. I'll be at Daznak's Pit tomorrow during the Great Games. You can give me your answer after the games. And if something happens during the games, you can ask for my help—you only need to shout my name, even if you don't see me. But calling my name is equal to accepting my marriage proposal. So think carefully before you accept my help. Because once you do, you will be mine—I don't let go of what's mine."
Tyrion raised an eyebrow. "You sound confident something will go wrong."
Jacob shrugged. "Call it a hunch. The Sons of the Harpy and the slave masters aren't exactly fond of Dany."
He paused, his voice hardening. "One more thing, Dany—I'm a very jealous and possessive man. End whatever you have with that sellsword, Daario. If he touches you again, I'll know. End it cleanly, or I'll end him."
He walked toward her. Grey Worm tried to stop him by standing between them and raising his shortsword.
Jacob smirked and waved his hand, using his telekinesis. Grey Worm flew backward and stuck to the wall, unable to move.
Daenerys, Missandei, and Tyrion were shocked.
Jacob walked to Daenerys and lifted her chin with his fingers so she would look at him. "I'll see you tomorrow, gorgeous."
He pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. Her breath hitched, her heart raced, and a deep blush spread across her face.
Jacob smiled, then vanished—teleporting back to Serendell.
The moment Jacob disappeared, Grey Worm—who was still stuck to the wall—fell to the ground as he was freed from Jacob's telekinesis.
Daenerys composed herself and looked at him. "Are you okay?"
Grey Worm stood, his expression pained. "Yes, Your Grace. Please punish me for not protecting you."
Daenerys waved her hand dismissively. "That's not your fault. You can't protect me from a man like him."
She turned to Tyrion. "What do you think of Jacob?"
Tyrion poured himself a cup of wine, took a long sip, and sat back at the table. "The man is terrifying—no question about that. And he's no fool. There's a sharp mind behind all that arrogance. And what I find interesting is the world he wants to create—and the methodical way he plans to go about it. That's not the talk of a madman—that's the talk of a ruler."
Daenerys asked, "Should I accept his offer?"
Tyrion took another sip of his wine and set the cup down. "Your Grace, I've met a great many men in my life—kings, lords, sellswords, fools. Jacob is something else entirely. He's terrifying, yes. But he's also competent, which is more than I can say for most rulers. So if I may speak freely—I think you should accept his offer. I don't know what ails you, but he clearly can heal it. And with his powers, his family's abilities, and his dragons... marrying him seems the wisest path. You've already agreed to marry Hizdahr zo Loraq for political gain, so why not choose the better option? Jacob is stronger, smarter, and more interesting than Hizdahr could ever hope to be. And Jacob can make you queen of the Seven Kingdoms—not Meereen."
"One of the queens," she said flatly.
Tyrion took a sip and shrugged. "One of the queens is still a queen. And he did say he wouldn't force you, so the choice is yours. You could refuse him, stay in Meereen, and build your own kingdom here. He doesn't seem to care much for Essos—that might be your best chance at ruling without sharing."
Daenerys rose from her seat. "Meereen is not my home. And call it a hunch, call it instinct—but I'm sure that man will never let me go." She fell silent for a moment, then let out a sigh. "I'll take the night to think properly about his proposal."
She moved toward the door. "I'm tired. I need to rest. We have a long day tomorrow." She paused and looked at Grey Worm. "If Daario comes looking for me, send him away."
She stepped out and called over her shoulder, "Missandei, come. You'll stay with me tonight."
Missandei followed, with Grey Worm and a few guards trailing behind.
Tyrion remained in the council chamber, staring into his cup. He took a long drink, then let out a heavy sigh. "Well, Cersei and Jaime are f***ed. There's no defeating that terrifying monster." He swirled his wine and muttered, "I know Cersei will never surrender—but I'll do what I can to help Jaime keep his life."