Chapter 109: The Fleet
Holding Drogon's tiny claw, Daenerys quickly sensed something was wrong.
He had fallen asleep again.
With a soft sigh, she gently carried him to the small nest she had prepared in advance. Judging by experience, he probably wouldn't wake up until noon the next day.
The academy's courses were progressing smoothly, and Tyrion's proposals were beginning to show real results.
In Yunkai, only a small portion of the former slaves couldn't endure the hardship of farm labor. The vast majority were willing—even eager—to reclaim and cultivate the lands outside the city.
Daenerys had promised them that any land they reclaimed would belong to them permanently. They would be free to build homes on it, making farming and settlement easier.
That promise ignited an incredible level of enthusiasm among the former slaves of Yunkai. Some even braved the hardest work to claim large swaths of land for themselves.
By allowing the people to farm freely, one of Slaver's Bay's greatest problems was finally being resolved. For once, Daenerys found herself with a rare moment of leisure. After settling Drogon, she picked up a book on the history of the noble houses of Westeros and began to read.
She had barely read for a few minutes when a knock sounded at the door.
Shireen quickly set aside her teaching notes and opened it.
"Your Grace," Ser Barristan said urgently as he stepped inside, "the city wall guards report a fleet approaching from the sea—around fifty ships. You should come take a look."
Daenerys's expression changed at once.
She glanced back at Drogon, still sleeping soundly, then followed Barristan out without hesitation.
Five minutes later, Daenerys stood atop the city walls. As expected, the sea was crowded with ships—dark hulls spread densely across the water.
"Have Jorah and Grey Worm been notified?" she asked, frowning as she roughly counted the vessels.
"They're already on their way with troops," Barristan replied.
Fifty ships could carry no more than five thousand soldiers—hardly enough to pose a serious threat to Meereen.
Even so, Daenerys did not dare to be careless.
Ten minutes later, Jorah and Grey Worm arrived atop the city walls as well. By then, the fifty warships had stopped at a distance, with only the lead vessel continuing toward Meereen.
"The Iron Islands," Daenerys said, narrowing her eyes as she recognized the black banner bearing a kraken-like sea monster. "What business do they have here?"
"The Iron Islands are now under Euron Greyjoy, Balon's brother," Barristan added, recalling the intelligence Varys had sent a few days earlier. "It's unclear whether this fleet belongs to him."
Before long, the lead ship drew close to the walls. At its prow stood a figure clad in tight leather armor, long hair streaming behind her as she faced the city against the sea wind.
Though none of them could yet be certain of her identity, they quickly realized she could not be Euron—the unmistakable rise and fall of her chest gave that away.
"That should be Yara Greyjoy," Jorah said.
___
"I am Yara Greyjoy of the Iron Islands," the woman called out. "Is the woman on the walls Queen Daenerys? May I enter the city so we may speak in private?"
Daenerys had already guessed who she was. She gave the order to reopen the gates that had been sealed earlier, allowing the ship to dock and Yara to come ashore.
Yara was escorted into the Great Pyramid's council chamber.
As she took in the assembled officials, her gaze paused on Tyrion. She froze for a moment, then understanding dawned.
Tyrion gave her a faint nod in return.
"Your Grace," Yara said without preamble, "I have brought fifty-two warships and three thousand men. I wish to aid you in claiming the Iron Throne."
Daenerys did not accept immediately. "And what do you want in return?"
The Iron Islands had once ruled jointly with the Riverlands, and Yara was unlike Daenerys's other followers. Daenerys was not yet the true Queen of the Seven Kingdoms—this was an alliance between equals.
"When you sail for Westeros, I want your help in reclaiming the Iron Islands," Yara replied steadily. "And when you take the Iron Throne, I want you to recognize me as ruler of the Iron Islands."
"If I remember correctly," Tyrion interjected, "you have a brother—Theon. Would he truly accept you sitting the Seastone Chair?"
Daenerys glanced at Tyrion and gave a slight nod. Though she had been studying the great houses of Westeros, no one understood their tangled politics better than a man born into them.
"He's dead," Yara said flatly. "He will never rule the Iron Islands."
That drew visible surprise from the room.
"Oh?" Tyrion said mildly. "Our information suggests otherwise."
"I tried to rescue him," Yara said, her voice tightening. "But he refused to come with me. He is no longer fit to rule—and the Ironborn would never follow him."
The memory of that failed rescue stirred both anger and grief in her. Though her bond with Theon had faded since childhood, she could not forget the broken man she had seen, caged and stripped of all identity by Ramsay Snow.
Even if Theon were freed, she knew the Ironborn would never accept him again.
Seeing the pain on Yara's face, no one pressed the matter further.
Though she was a woman, it was Yara—rather than Theon—who had come seeking alliance. Daenerys had no reason to oppose her claim to the Seastone Chair.
Had Drogon been perched on Daenerys's shoulder, he would have told her plainly: Theon Greyjoy, in both body and mind, was utterly unfit to lead the Ironborn.
"And how fares your uncle Euron now?" Tyrion asked, pressing for more detail.
"He murdered my father and seized control of the Iron Islands," Yara replied coldly. "He's building more ships—and he may come seeking you."
"Me?" Daenerys said. She doubted Euron would sail this far simply to attack Slaver's Bay.
"Yes," Yara said. "He's long coveted the Dragon Queen. He wants you—and he wants your dragons. Speaking of which… where are they?"
Yara had heard many tales from Ironborn raiders about Daenerys's deeds in Slaver's Bay. She had expected to see dragons upon arrival, yet saw none—and couldn't hide her disappointment.
At the mention of Euron coveting her and her dragons, Daenerys's expression darkened. But when Yara asked about the dragons themselves, her mood softened.
"One is asleep," Daenerys said with a faint smile. "The other two are likely out hunting. You'll see them soon enough."
Thinking of Drogon, snoring soundly at that very moment, Daenerys couldn't help but smile—an expression that left Yara staring in brief fascination.
No wonder Uncle Euron wanted to come to Slaver's Bay, Yara thought.
Even she found herself momentarily captivated by Queen Daenerys.