Back in their tent, Vlad entered first, with Daenerys close behind, her breath still quickened by the thrill of his speech. There was no doubt that what she had just witnessed had stirred something deep within her. Her violet eyes followed him intently as the fabric of the entrance fell shut behind her, cutting them off from the noise outside.
Without a word, she stepped forward and kissed him with fierce passion, taking him by surprise. It wasn't a delicate kiss—it was hungry, desperate, as if she meant to devour the very essence of the man she had come to love. Vlad responded with equal intensity, wrapping her in his arms and pulling her against him. For a moment, there was nothing else but the fire of their lips, their shared desire, the certainty that together, they were unstoppable.
When they finally pulled apart, Daenerys rested her forehead against his, her hands brushing over the edges of his war cloak. With a soft but resolute voice, she broke the silence:
—Were you serious? Do you really mean to free all the slaves?
Vlad didn't hesitate.
—Of course. —His tone held not a trace of doubt—. I know you, Daenerys. I know what it does to you to see men in chains, to feel their pain, to hear their cries. I know how deeply it torments you. And that is why… —he looked into her eyes, a fierce light burning in his golden gaze— I will end it.
Daenerys stared at him, stunned by the absolute certainty with which he had spoken those words. For so long, she had believed no one could truly understand her yearning to break the chains of the enslaved, that she lacked the power to change anything—and she hadn't wanted to burden Vlad with her hopes. So she had kept it to herself. But Vlad had seen it. He had seen it—and changed everything.
Her lips parted with a question she could barely contain.
—Are you doing it… for me?
Vlad blinked, then suddenly burst into laughter, a low, guttural sound laced with outrage. Before she could react, he cupped her face in his hands with overwhelming intensity. His eyes burned like the fire of the comet.
—For you? —he repeated, incredulous, as if the question itself were absurd—. For you, my love, I would let the world burn.
The silence that followed was thick as the night. Daenerys felt her breath catch—not from fear, but because in that instant, she understood what it truly meant to be with a man like Vlad. A man who didn't just love her, but would tear down empires and defy the gods for her.
She said nothing more. She didn't need to. She simply kissed him again.
[King's Landing]
Edward Drakul moved like a shadow through the darkened corridors of the Red Keep. His elegant black garments absorbed the flickering torchlight; his steps were silent, his presence imperceptible to mortal eyes. He had been one of Vlad's first offspring, saved from hunger and slavery, gifted with a power he never could have imagined in his mortal days. In return, his lord had asked only for loyalty—and for him to gather information in King's Landing.
Edward considered himself unworthy of such grace. So now, entrusted with a task of true importance, he would not let anything go wrong.
It wasn't the first time he had moved through the Red Keep unseen. He slipped through it so often, he probably knew its halls better than the people who lived there. The stone stairs barely creaked under his weight as he ascended steadily toward the chambers of Ned Stark's daughters.
In front of the door, two Lannister guards were speaking in low voices, unaware of the shadow descending upon them. Edward didn't even slow his pace. With a single glance and a whispered word, compulsion wrapped their minds like a choking mist. A flicker of confusion crossed their faces before, with mechanical movements, they drew their daggers and, without hesitation, drove them into their own throats. No screams—only a strangled gurgle as dark blood spilled across the floor.
Edward pushed the door open with a sharp motion. The lock cracked and broke, and the door flew inward, startling the Stark sisters. Arya, ever instinctive, was already on her feet with a candlestick in hand, while Sansa brought a hand to her mouth, horrified by the sudden intrusion.
—Who are you? —Arya demanded, placing herself in front of her sister.
Edward showed no reaction. His eyes, dark as night, scanned the room coldly before settling on them.
—There's no time, —he said firmly—. Your father will be executed. After that, you'll be used to force the North to submit to Joffrey.
Sansa felt the ground vanish beneath her feet.
—No… that can't be… —she whispered, shaking her head as if denial could undo reality.
—You're lying! —Arya clenched her fists—. My father is an honorable man. They can't kill him like a criminal!
Edward looked at her with a mix of pity and impatience.
—My lord will not allow the Lannisters to hold such power over the North, —he continued calmly—. So I'm taking you out of here, my ladies.
—We're not leaving without our father! —Arya growled, raising the candlestick.
Edward turned his head to her and spoke a single word:
—Silence.
The compulsion struck Arya like an invisible wave. Her body tensed at once, her mouth sealed shut, and the candlestick clattered to the floor with a dull thud. Her eyes widened with fury and helplessness, but her limbs no longer obeyed her.
Sansa stifled a scream and rushed to her sister, shaking her.
—What did you do to her? Leave her alone!
—Don't argue with me —Edward warned—. I don't have my lord's patience. Master Drakul wants you safe, not happy. Please, don't make me use force.
—Drakul? You mean Vlad Drakul? —Sansa whispered, her voice trembling with fear and confusion—. What does the demon of Essos want with the daughters of the Warden of the North? Why is he helping us?
Even in King's Landing, she had heard the stories of the monster from Essos. A khal with the largest army ever seen, a man who could not be harmed, who impaled his enemies, who drank blood, who even had dragons.
Edward felt a hint of satisfaction. Even in this filthy city, his master's name already inspired fear in men's hearts. Still, he held back his smile.
With a swift motion, he pulled aside a rug and lifted a loose stone slab, revealing a narrow passageway descending into darkness. Without giving them a choice, he pushed Sansa in first, then Arya, who was still struggling against the compulsion.
The stone closed behind them.
Sansa felt the weight of the world pressing down on her as they moved through the tight corridor. Each step took her farther from her father.
—Father… —she whispered, voice breaking.
Edward didn't stop. He wasn't there to save Eddard Stark from his own naivety.