Meeting The Mother of Dragons.

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Aeron stepped into the heart of Astapor with a calm stride, the air thick with the scent of saltwater and the sounds of distant voices. His Northerners followed, still gaping at him in disbelief, whispers filling the air.

"How did you manage that, my lord?" one of them asked, his voice full of awe. "Talk their tongue like it's your own. we thought that High Valyrian was only spoken by the nobles and the Valyrian-blooded."

Aeron smiled a small, enigmatic smile. "I said something pleasant.".

Another of his soldiers chuckled, shaking his head. "You always have something up your sleeve, don't you, my lord?"

Raya, keeping pace at his side, gave him a skeptical glance. "What exactly did you tell them?"

Aeron winked. "Nothing they need to worry about." They didn't need to know the truth—after all

As they walked through the city, a barracks-style building stood out, full of movement. Dark, close-fitting armor-wearing soldiers approached and departed, their eyes scanning the streets with trained vigilance. A tall, imposing captain of the Unsullied guarded the door, his eyes flashing toward Aeron and his men.

The captain spoke to them in High Valyrian, his tone formal, yet unfazed by the newcomers. "You will come with me," he said, motioning toward a nearby area where a pair of soldiers began to move toward them, preparing to restrain the men.

The Northerners at once stiffened, confusion and alarm crossing their faces. "What are they doing, my lord?" one of them ventured, eyes open wide. "why are we being held?

Aeron's gaze flicked over to them, the peace in his eyes comforting, though in his head, he was running. He could feel the familiar sensation of a plan coming together. "Don't worry," he said calmly, his voice firm and reassuring. "This is part of their traditions. They bind all strangers who come through here."

The captain's eyes tightened a bit as he advanced, one of his men moving to cuff Aeron's crew. They were led to a small, guarded chamber, where the soldiers began to prepare them for whatever strange procedure they had to undergo. Aeron stayed still, watching quietly, but his mind was already connecting the dots.

'If Daenerys has indeed abolished slavery here, they'd be bringing me straight before her for trial. or death.' He gave Raya a hasty glance, who remained staring at the scene in confusion. 'This. is the fastest way to find her. It's a tad too risky, but something I can handle.'

Raya stared him down, her brows furrowed. "What's really going on, Aeron?"

He leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice so only she could hear. "Trust me. We're doing this the quickest way possible."

Her expression softened for a moment, but there was still uncertainty in her eyes. She trusted him—she always had—but this situation felt different. Still, she gave a reluctant nod, letting him lead the way.

The Unsullied captain towered above them, regarding Aeron with icy, calculating stares. But even as the moment hung suspended, Aeron remained impassive. His next step was already mapped out.

****

The air inside the grand chamber of Daenerys' palace felt heavy with tension while she sat on her throne, surrounded by her trusted advisors. Her violet eyes, as pale as dragon glass, were focused on the reports from the city, but her thoughts lingered elsewhere on her next move to conquer the remaining cities Yunkai and Meereen. The echoes of her past of betrayal, war, and the long journey to this city still weighed heavily on her heart. She had fought, bled, and sacrificed to get here. Now, as queen of a city of freed slaves she had liberated, she couldn't help but wonder what the future held.

In High Valyrian, Daenerys' voice rang out, smooth yet with a sharp edge of curiosity, "Skoriot gōntan bisa vala māzigon hen?" (Where did this man come from?)

Missandei stood at her side, she paused, her brow furrowed for a moment as she turned to face Daenerys. "Bisa vala māzigon hen Vesteros, se ziry poghash bona ziry iksos belmurtys." (This man came from Westeros, and he says that he is a slaver.)

Daenerys felt a pang of irritation rise in her chest. Her fingers gripped the arms of her throne as her gaze shifted toward the man standing before her. He was cuffed, his expression unwavering, and she could feel the weight of his presence in the room. The air around them seemed to grow thicker as she studied him, the defiance in his stance unnerving yet strangely compelling.

Her eyes locked with his, her heart giving an unexpected flutter. 'Westeros', she thought. 'A slaver?'

The man remained still as stone, his gaze never once faltering, as if he were daring her to do something.

Aeron, still bound by his restraints, didn't even flinch. His eyes never left Daenerys, and in a swift movement, he tore through his bindings as if they were nothing more than mere twine. The sound of the chains hitting the floor rang in the silence of the room, her guards—Grey Worm and Jorah Mormont among them—moved into action, weapons drawn.

Daenerys' hand raised with a calm and commanding gesture, stopping them in their tracks. She didn't need to speak for them to understand her command. The guards hesitated, eyes flicking between her and the man who had somehow broken his restraints.

Aeron's gaze remained on Daenerys, intense and unwavering, and finally, he spoke his voice fluid and strong, His words were in High Valyrian, but his confidence in the language made it sound like he was from Valyria itself.

"Nyke jeldan naejot rhaenagon ao Daenerys Targārien," he said, his voice steady, clear, and calm. (I wanted to meet you, Daenerys Targaryen.)

The words seemed to hang in the air between them like an invitation, a challenge, a promise all at once. Daenerys blinked, a flicker of something she couldn't quite place crossing her features. Her lips parted slightly as she processed what he just said.

Grey Worm's hand tightened around his spear, ready to strike, but Daenerys raised her hand once more, stilling him.

"I said no," she repeated, her voice firm yet quiet.

Daenerys took a step forward, her curiosity getting the better of her. "You are from Westeros?" she asked, her tone more thoughtful than accusatory. She studied him, trying to gauge his intentions. "And you call yourself a slaver? What is it you want here?"

Aeron allowed a smile to cross his lips, though it wasn't one of mockery. "Ha, a slaver" he said, his voice low and compelling, "No, I'm not, i just said that to get to you."

Daenerys tilted her head, her mind working as she studied the man who had come from across the seas. "Then tell me," she said, her voice cold but intrigued. "What is it you truly seek but first how did you speak my mother tongue," she said, her voice betraying her surprise. "How is that even possible?"

Aeron's gaze softened just slightly as he answered, his voice calm, almost amused. "Yes, I did learn it. Took some time, but it was worth it."

Daenerys took a step closer, her eyes narrowing as she processed the implications of his words. "A man not from a great house, not from Essos, and yet you can speak the Valyrian tongue?" She shook her head, unable to suppress the disbelief. "It doesn't make sense."

Aeron's lips curled into a faint, knowing smile, the firelight flickering across his face. "You're probably informed already, but there is a war going on in Westeros right now. A war I can win easily."

She laughed, a sound that was cold and sharp, like the crack of ice. "Win easily ?! strength alone is not enough, slaver. Just because you managed to uncuff yourself, doesn't mean you can win a war alone."

"i'd prefer to be called Aeron" Aeron's eyes gleamed with a dangerous intensity. His voice dropped low, thick with certainty. "Come out."

The room fell silent. For a moment, nothing happened. But then, slowly, from the shadows around them, figures began to emerge—tall, imposing figures, with glowing eyes and an aura of malevolent power. Aeron's entire shadow army materialized before them, stretching in all directions like a dark tide. The soldiers were not mere men; a giant, beasts, they were shadows bound to his will, and their presence sent an electric shiver through the room.

The Unsullied, Jorah Mormont, and Daenerys herself all froze in shock. The air felt heavy with the weight of their power, and for the first time, Daenerys truly understood that this man was not making false claim, nor like anyone she had ever faced before.