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As expected, the bloodbath happened. The slaves took over the city.
Robert didn't leave his lodging that night, pounding the beauty that had accompanied him all that time. Shifting her insides with his greedy, girthy shaft, he'd never heard a single complaint from her. Rather, she looked forward to their nightly activities.
Her own life had improved greatly. Coin, clothes, and rest, she received it all plenty. The future looked nothing but bright.
But the next day, even after the city was taken over by Daenerys and her forces, the fighting pits didn't open. Then, on the second day, he finally ventured out and found out what the white-haired throne chaser had done. She'd crucified over a hundred nobles of the city in retaliation for what they did to slaves.
That wasn't a good sign for him. Daenerys had no idea how to hold back and tread carefully. Instead of first focusing on establishing herself in the city, she decided to anger all the nobles at the same time.
There were going to be repercussions. It was expected. After all, he and Robert had rebelled against the Mad King because of his murderous tendencies. To smallfolk, the lords were rulers and, to many, abusers. That didn't mean the King could simply kill the lords and make the smallfolk happy.
It was clear. Daenerys had no idea about the difference between a noble, a royal, and a smallfolk. In this case, slaves.
On the fourth day, Robert got what he was waiting for. A direct summon from Daenerys Targaryen. Everything he'd done in the city all that time was for this. Becoming so famous that every mouth remembered his name was a goal that had been achieved days ago.
Demon Of Meereen, the Undefeatable, the God's Champion—the nicknames given to him were plenty. On top of that, he'd earned a bit of a soft spot from slaves as he spent most of his earnings feeding slave children too small to earn for themselves.
All of that bore him fruit, finally.
He followed the four Unsullied, who came to escort him to the Great Pyramid, where Daenerys had established herself. He didn't bring any weapon with him, trying to look as unthreatening as possible. Though his clothes didn't help, his sleeveless tunic still revealed his mighty arms. But he didn't worry as he looked quite handsome even without his beard.
The climb up the stairs of the pyramid was a chore. Even before him, the Unsullied got tired. But eventually, they arrived at the top and headed towards the throne room.
Already, Robert could hear an exchange going on inside, and he recognized the man's accented voice. It belonged to Hizdahr zo Loraq.
"...My father, one of Meereen's respected and beloved citizens, oversaw the restoration and maintenance of its greatest landmarks. This pyramid included."
"For that, he has my gratitude. I should be honored to meet him."
Robert laughed inside. He could hear the contempt and ridicule in Daenerys' voice.
"You have, Your Grace. You crucified him. I pray you'll never live to see a member of your family treated so cruelly."
Seven Hells, I didn't see that coming. Robert held himself back from chuckling, imagining Daenerys' face falling.
"Your father crucified innocent children."
"My father spoke out against crucifying those children. He decried it as a criminal act but was overruled. Is it justice to answer one crime with another?"
Robert nodded in silence. The man said it right.
"I'm sorry you no longer have a father, but my treatment of the masters was no crime. You'd be wise to remember that."
Robert frowned deeply, hearing that. That sounded like the Mad King. Incapable of accepting one's own mistake and forcing the other side to heel. If the man's father was truly one of the good ones, then his crucifixion was unjust, simple.
What in the Seven Hells is this? Another Mad King in the making? I meant to judge if she's fit for the throne... but now, I wonder if she's even fit to draw breath. And with three dragons, no less. Madness.
With more focus, he heard the exchange go on.
"...Your Grace, I ask that you order these men taken down so that they might receive proper burials."
"And what of the slave children these noble Meereenese crucified?"
Robert shook his head. She's got no bloody idea how to rule even a single city. What does she think she'll gain by going up against all the nobles?
"...Bury your father, Hizdahr zo Loraq."
"Thank you, my Queen."
Quickly, the man left, and Robert ushered into the throne room. He saw it for the first time, so he had no clues about it. High ceiling room with tiles and walls of purple marble. Then, there she was on a plain ebony bench, many steps above the floor.
Though Robert held no special interest in white-haired women. No, his eyes instead landed on the slender, dusky woman with curly brown hair. But more than anything, her beautiful eyes captivated him, colored like molten gold. She was definitely a beauty, her form-fitting gown and that tight belt around her waist hinted at that.
"What can I do for you?"
"Eh?!" Robert grunted, squinting at Daenerys. "Do fer me? The hell's that s'posed to mean? I ain't the one doin' the askin' here, lass. Yer tin-can eunuchs dragged me in."
Daenerys' brows rose in shock and amusement. Even the strongest of men, when standing in a monarch's palace, showed some respect and fear. Yet here, this tall man refused to even greet her first.
But before she could speak, Ser Jorah, standing beside her, leaned down and whispered into her ears. "Your Grace, he's the man the rumors spoke of."
"You're Ned? The Demon of Meereen?" Daenerys asked him. "You're from Westeros?"
"Aye, I am—or was, rather. Mum and Dad were done in by those damn squids; bastards dragged me off. I ran, and got caught by Volantis' slavers. Killed the lot of 'em and became my own bloody man." Robert grinned, arms crossed. "Heard you've got dragons, eh? Reckon I could have a go at one of 'em? Bit of a challenge, you know."
Daenerys chuckled. "You wish to fight my dragons?"
"Why the hell not? I've taken down ten bloody elephants! The pitmasters've been scrambling, tryin' to find me somethin' to put up a fight for days!" Robert replied and focused back on the dusky-skinned woman standing not far from him. Her face reflected a sort of innocence, but he knew it was false.
It was with intent. There was no way to get close to Daenerys right away. But getting close to one of her trusted handmaidens was a different thing entirely.
Daenerys stood up from her throne and followed Robert's gaze. "Aren't you overconfident?"
"I ain't gonna know 'til someone kicks my ass!" Robert answered. "And trust me, only your dragon can… possibly."
This was the most interesting and peculiar man Daenerys had met in her life. Some desired to fly on the back of a dragon. Some desired to sleep with the Mother of Dragons. This was the first time a madman wanted to fight the dragons.
"What if you're lying? What if the rumors are just rumors?" Daenerys asked, and walked down the steps, eventually standing beside Missandei. "Why should I entertain you?"
"Then don't." Robert shrugged. "I'm headin' East anyway, lookin' fer a real fight, not some poncy chair-measuring contest. Speakin' of, that throne o' yers—heard it's just a pile o' rusty pig-stickers. Sounds like sittin' on a damned bear trap. Bah! Nobles an' their stupid arses."
Daenerys couldn't tell half of the things Robert was saying, but it was easy to guess. Somehow, despite his offensive words, they only mused her. Her interaction with the people of Westeros was limited, so this was a fine addition.
"I will permit it," she said, her voice firm. "You may face one of my dragons in battle. But when you lose—and if you still draw breath—you will serve in my army."
"Eh…" Robert frowned and rubbed his chin. However, his eyes remained focused on the dusky woman the whole time. This was new even for Daenerys, as most men only ever sang of her beauty. "Works for me, but if I win, the girl is mine."
Daenerys glanced at Missandei and then back at Robert. "She's not for sale! Nor is she a slave!"
"What? Slave? When in the piss-soaked hells did I say I'd buy her? I just fancy her and want a roll in the hay! Slave?" Robert hawked up a gob and spat on the side. "You could split every gods-damned slaver from gut to gizzard in here, and I'd still sleep like a babe."
Daenerys shook her head, her voice firm. "Missandei is no whore for you to claim."
"Ain't said either, lass! You pay a whore fer that, but I ain't plannin' on it here!" Robert glanced at the Missandei and smiled. Aye, he was a fine-looking warrior, tough as a mountain. "Let me rephrase, then. I'll defeat a dragon fer ya, and if I come out on top, I'll be wantin' a proper reward. A bedroll and yer company, aye?"
"No! I won—"
Just as Daenerys was about to retort, Missandei stepped forward, summoning an expression of confidence. She looked up at Robert's face and measured him as a man. He was no eye-sore, no woman could ever claim that.
Then, Missandei nodded her head. "I'll wager."
"Missandei, no!" Daenerys shook her shoulder.
"No one can stand against a dragon, Your Grace." Missandei turned to Daenerys, her voice calm but firm. "Let him try if he must. He is a fool, and fools meet their end soon enough."
Robert didn't retort and just smiled. He didn't know how tough it was going to be, but he had no fears.
Eventually, Daenerys sighed and glared at Robert. There was no reason to even entertain such a man. But somewhere in her heart, she wished that the rumors were true so she could better her chances of victory with his help.
"Very well. You shall fight Drogon in two days."
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