42

Caesar stood at the head of the stone table, his eyes—draconic slits of molten gold—gleaming beneath the torchlight. Before him sat four of his most trusted killers and conquerors: Drogo, still scented of horse and blood; Sandor Clegane, the Hound, licking grease from his fingers; Tom of the North, the snow-eyed engineer turned warlord; and David Sand, the bastard of Dorne turned architect of empire.

Caesar's voice cut through the room like a sword.

"Well then, speak. David. Tomorrow is the dawn of a new era, but tell me—how fares the soil?"

David leaned forward, a cocky smile on his lips. "My king, the soil sings. With the gold you poured in, and the tools we brought over from westeros that you had made, we've created fields that will outlive any siege. Fertilizer. Rotation. Irrigation. Every city and outpost has ten sealed grain vaults, buried deep. Stone-thick. Flame-tested. Enough to last a year each."

He paused, raising a brow. But since we haven't gone through a full year and the cities and outpost aren't fully finished building as well as the towns we won't be able to fill them for a few years so we won't make a profit.

Caesar grinned, sharp as a knife. Don't you worry gold we have. Power we seize. But starvation is the death of all kingdoms. Not mine."

He turned to Tom, who tapped ash from a thick cigar.

"The cities?"

Tom exhaled slow, like a dragon warming up.

"Built from nothing and making rapid progress putting so many people to work and the skilled and numerous managment itll be done in the next year, itll be done fast but clean. We started with sewers, just like you said. No city can grow while choking on its own shit. The Dothraki don't understand walls yet neither do the Lhazareen, but they understand comfort. They're beginning to settle."

Caesar nodded, satisfied. He strode toward the heavy chest in the corner of the room—old Valyrian steel, lined with black iron. When he opened it, the firelight seemed to bend toward the contents. Four dragon eggs, each the size of a man's skull, shimmered with color and power.

Gasps escaped both David and Tom.

"Dragons," David whispered. "You weren't lying."

"I never lie," Caesar said, placing a hand atop the red egg. "Only delay the truth."

The Hound stood, pacing toward the eggs like a wary animal.

"You sure this ain't madness?" he growled. "Waking monsters? Burning ten thousand men? Even I wouldn't feed that many to the fire."

Caesar turned, his voice velvet-wrapped steel.

"And that's why you follow me, Sandor. Because I would."

He lifted the red egg. "Blood brings fire. Fire brings strength. I've hoarded the worst of them: rapists, traitors, bandits, killers. Each egg gets 2,500 souls. They die, so these live. So we live. So our enemies burn."

Drogo stood now, arms folded, dark eyes burning.

"The Dosh Khaleen say the fire cannot be tamed. They say dragons serve no master."

Caesar walked toward him slowly, locking eyes with the great khal that couldve been if not for me.

"Then I will not be a master. I will be their father."

I Lifted my hands. Flames burst from my palm. My skin did not char. My flesh did not blister. Fire clung to me like a cloak.

"I will bleed onto these eggs. I shall bathe in fire. My blood has magic coursing through it. My seed is shall make kings. I am the beginning of a new line. A true Targaryen—without their madness, without their weakness, without their mercy."

I snapped my fingers. The flames vanished.

"And I will do what they never could: make the whole world mine."

A heavy silence fell.

"What's the plan then?" Drogo asked at last.

Caesar walked back to the table, poured himself blackwine, and raised the goblet.

"Tomorrow, under the full moon, we ride. I've prepared a pit, deep and wide, in the heart of the Dothraki Sea. The Unsullied will guard the perimeter. No witnesses. My highest sorcerers will be present to bind the dragons. The sacrifices will burn, and I will walk into the fire with the eggs."

"You're going in the fire?" Tom asked, blinking.

"Yes," Caesar said simply. "They must see me born anew."

He leaned forward. "And when they rise—when wings break the sky and shadow covers the world—we strike."

"Where?" asked David, his eyes glittering with hunger.

"Everywhere."

He set the goblet down.

"Now… let's speak of rewards."

Each man straightened.

"David. You shall have Dorne. Your homeland. Keep it soaked in wine and bastards if you like—but your heir will marry one of mine."

David smirked. "Gladly. I'll build golden palaces in the desert and fill them with every pleasure the world can offer."

"Tom," Caesar said, turning. "The North is yours. The cold, the walls, the snow-wolves. But greenhouses will make your people fat and loyal."

Tom nodded. "The North remembers. They'll remember me next."

"Sandor."

The Hound grunted. "Stormlands. Strong women. Strong drinks. I'll be happy."

"Drogo."

The khal tilted his head.

"You said said the riverlands are where you want me to rule and that it rains a lot which I would love to be in the rain the sand and sun of the dothraki sea has tired me I want something new if you will it my khal I shall ride the riverlands.

Caesar grinned. "It is my will."

Ceasar raises a finger. "One condition. Your firstborn marries into my line. Your grandchildren will marry into the lower houses. You will breed kings, and their blood will bind this world for a thousand years."

"What if a house refuses to marry?" asked David, already knowing the answer.

Caesar's smile was ice and fire.

"Then they die. Slowly."

They all laughed—loud, raw, drunk on the future and power they shall have.

"Now," Caesar said, standing tall, "enough talk. Let's raid the kitchen before we raid the world."

The Hound roared and was already halfway to the cellar. Tom and David raced after him. Drogo followed with a proud smirk but not slowing down lest the best liqour os drunk by the hound and the others.

Caesar lingered at the door. From the shadows padded a massive lion, golden and silent. It had once been caged. Now it walked freely happily running after the men knowing where they are going so happily will have food for him too .

"well i must hurry too," Caesar said, reaching for his cloak. "It's time to feast. Tomorrow, we bring fire back to the world."