Third Person POV
299 AC, Astapor – Morning
The sun blazed over Astapor, its harsh light glinting off the red-brick pyramids that loomed like silent tyrants. The air was thick with dust and the stench of sweat, blood, and chains, a city built on the backs of slaves. Daenerys Targaryen stood at the edge of the Plaza of Pride, her silver hair bound in a braid, her violet eyes fierce beneath her riding leathers. Dark Sister hung at her hip, a promise of steel to match her fire. Beside her stood Missandei, her sapphire silks a stark contrast to the city's grim palette, her telepathic senses probing the Good Masters' deceit. Aeron Sand, leather-clad with swords, scanned the crowd, his weathered face alert. Jon Snow, clad in black, his grey eyes hard, gripped his sword, his identity as Aemon Targaryen a quiet strength. Ser Jorah Mormont, grizzled and wary, stood at her rear, his loyalty newly sworn, his past as Varys's spy a shadow he sought to outrun.
Daenerys's retinue faced the Good Masters, a trio of corpulent slavers draped in garish tokars, their oiled beards glistening. Kraznys mo Nakloz, the lead negotiator, smirked through his translator, a young slave girl, as he boasted of the Unsullied's discipline. "Eight thousand Unsullied, fully trained, plus five thousand still in training," he said, his voice dripping with arrogance. "They feel no pain, fear no death. Perfect soldiers for a queen."
Daenerys's expression was unreadable, her voice calm but commanding. "I want them all—every Unsullied, trained or not. Name your price."
Kraznys's eyes gleamed with greed, his translator relaying his words. "There are a total of 25,000 unsullied. Good master asks for 4 million gold dragons."
Then Daenerys says, "I will sell my dragon."
Kraznys says, " Three dragons."
Daneyres says, "One."
Kraznys says, " Two"
Daneyres says, "One."
Kraznys says, " I want the biggest."
Daneyres says, "Done."
Daenerys nodded, her voice unwavering. "Morghul for all your Unsullied. Agreed."
Kraznys clapped, his tokar rustling, and signaled his men. A slave handed Daenerys a ceremonial whip, its handle carved with serpents, symbolizing control over the Unsullied. Her fingers closed around it, her Mera Mera no Mi simmering beneath her skin. Morghul, perched on a nearby dais, hissed, his black scales shimmering, red highlights flaring as his leash was handed to a slaver. The Good Masters smirked, believing victory theirs.
Daenerys raised the whip, her voice ringing across the plaza. "Unsullied! I am Daenerys Stormborn, your new master!" The ranks stood motionless, their training absolute. Her eyes blazed, her command a thunderclap. "Kill the Good Masters! Slay every slaver in this plaza! Spare the innocent, but let no chains remain!"
The Unsullied moved as one, their spears thrusting with lethal precision. Kraznys's smirk vanished, his scream cut short as a spear pierced his chest, blood staining his tokar. The other Masters fell, their guards overwhelmed, spears and swords useless against the Unsullied's disciplined fury. Morghul roared, his leash burning as flames erupted from his jaws, incinerating the slaver holding it. The plaza became a maelstrom—slavers screaming, chains breaking, blood pooling on the red bricks.
Daenerys unleashed her fire, flames spiraling from her fists, targeting slavers fleeing the Unsullied's wrath. Morghul took wing, his fire raining down, turning whip-wielding overseers to ash. Jon and Aeron fought back-to-back swords carving through slaver guards, their movements a deadly dance. Missandei, unarmed but fearless, used her telepathy to guide slaves to safety, her voice a beacon amid the chaos.
The slaughter was swift, the plaza a graveyard of slavers, their wealth and cruelty reduced to cinders. Daenerys climbed the dais, Morghul landing beside her, his wings casting a shadow. She held the whip high, then snapped it in two, her voice carrying over the silence. "Unsullied! You are no longer slaves. You are free men, beholden to no master. Choose your path—stay with me, or go where you will, but know you are brothers, not chattels."
The Unsullied, faces trained to stoicism, lowered their spears, a murmur rippling through their ranks. One stepped forward, his voice steady. "We choose to follow you, Daenerys Stormborn, Mother of Dragons, Breaker of Chains." The others knelt, their loyalty freely given, a tide of bronze and resolve.
Daenerys's heart swelled, her gaze meeting Missandei's, who smiled, her telepathy sensing their sincerity. "Astapor is ours," Daenerys declared. "No more chains, no more pyramids of pain. This city will rise anew." She appointed Unsullied captains to maintain order, freed slaves to govern alongside them, and tasked Jorah with overseeing the transition. Astapor's red bricks would no longer echo with screams, but with hope.
Yunkai – Same Day
Across Slaver's Bay, in the Yellow City of Yunkai, Dominic Augustus, King of Uruk, strode alone, a solitary titan in black silk edged with gold, his golden eyes burning with unyielding purpose. His 6'6" frame, enhanced by Gol D. Roger's Haki and earth-bending powers, made him a force of nature. Yunkai's Wise Masters, cloaked in yellow tokars, had laughed at his lone approach, their bedslaves giggling, their sellswords jeering the "fool king" who dared challenge their city without an army.
Their laughter died as Dominic struck. With a stomp, the earth shuddered, stone pillars erupting from the ground, impaling the Masters' palanquin, their silks and flesh torn apart. His Conqueror's Haki unleashed a wave of willpower, paralyzing sellswords, their knees buckling under its weight. His sword Ace flashed, severing heads with surgical precision, each strike a vow of liberation. Yunkai's guards, their ornate armor gleaming, fell as Dominic reshaped the earth, walls crumbling, streets splitting, their spears useless against his seismic might. Charizard's flames and claws tore through sellsword ranks, his roars shaking the city's yellow walls.
The Wise Masters' compounds collapsed, their gold and jewels spilling into the streets as slaves broke their chains. Dominic's voice boomed, amplified by Haki, resonating like a god's decree. "You are free! Yunkai is no longer a slaver's den but a city of the free!" The slaves—men, women, children—wept and cheered, their shackles falling as they rallied to his banner. By dusk, Yunkai was his, its governance handed to freedmen under his command. Dominic stood atop a pyramid, Charizard roaring beside him, a king who conquered alone, his earth-bending cleansing the city's sins.
Meereen – Same Day
In Meereen, the white-and-gold city of the Great Masters, Daemon, commander of Uruk's Unsullied, led half of Dominic's army through the city's fetid sewers, their bronze armor dulled to avoid detection. Dominic's orders were precise: infiltrate, arm the slaves, ignite a rebellion, and crush the slavers. Daemon, his face a mask of discipline, navigated the tunnels, his men silent, their spears ready. Above, Meereen's pyramids gleamed, unaware of the storm rising from below.
Emerging in the slave quarters, Daemon's forces armed the captives with daggers, spears, and slaver-forged swords. "You are no longer chattels," Daemon declared, his voice low but unyielding. "Fight for your freedom, Break your Chains." The slaves, their eyes alight with suppressed rage, rose, their weapons gleaming in the torchlight.
The rebellion erupted, a wildfire sweeping Meereen's streets. Slaves stormed pyramids, dragging Great Masters from silken beds, their screams drowned by the clang of bronze harpies toppling. Daemon's Unsullied led the charge, their spears a tide of death, cutting through sellswords and slaver knights with ruthless precision. By nightfall, the Great Masters were dead, their blood staining the white marble, their wealth redistributed to the freed.
Daemon raised Uruk's banner—the Wings of Liberation (a cobalt blue emblem from Attack on Titan) symbolizing freedom from oppression—over Meereen's greatest pyramid, declaring it a free city under Dominic's rule. The freed slaves, now citizens, chanted "Breaker of Chains," their voices echoing across the bay. Daemon sent ravens to Uruk, reporting Meereen's fall, his mission complete.
Astapor – Evening
In Astapor, Daenerys stood on a balcony overlooking the city, her dragons—Morghul, Rhaegal, Tyraxes—perched nearby, their eyes glowing. Missandei joined her, her voice soft. "You've done it, Dany. Astapor is free, its people yours."
Jon approached, his face stern but proud. "The Unsullied are yours, Dany. They'd follow you through fire."
Aeron nodded, cleaning his swords. "Slaver's Bay trembles. Yunkai and Meereen will fall, if they haven't already."
Jorah, standing apart, spoke cautiously. "Your Grace, this is a bold start, but the Free Cities will strike back. We must prepare."
Daenerys's gaze was fire, her voice a vow. "Let them come. I am Daenerys Stormborn, Mother of Dragons, Breaker of Chains. With my dragons, my Unsullied, and my family, we'll burn slavery from Essos and forge a new world."
A raven arrived, bearing news of Yunkai's fall to Dominic and Meereen's capture by Daemon. Daenerys smiled, her heart soaring. "Dom moves like a storm," she said. "Slaver's Bay is ours."
Missandei touched her arm, her telepathy sensing Dany's resolve. "What next, my queen?"
Daenerys looked west, toward Westeros, her voice unyielding. "We consolidate, rebuild, train. Then, we take the Free Cities, one by one. Essos will be free."
Jon's eyes met hers, a silent oath. Aeron grinned, his swords sheathed. Jorah bowed, his redemption begun. Slaver's Bay was reborn, its chains shattered, but the game of thrones burned brighter, its shadows stretching across two continents.