Volantis – Three Days After the Trial by Fire
The air had changed.
Not just in scent or wind, but in the undercurrent of every breath the city took. After Daenerys emerged unburnt from the Red Temple's trial, even the most hardened skeptics had bent the knee. The Red Priests had declared her "Chosen by Flame," and her banners now flew not just over the palace, but above the temple towers, where once the Triarchs' emblems had fluttered.
But faith was a fragile rope. And ropes could be cut.
Kael stood on the western ramparts of the city walls, gazing toward the jungle-covered delta that sprawled out in the distance. He could feel it—like tension before a storm. An ache beneath the skin of the world. Not divine, but man-made.
"Saddle the scouts," he said to Grey Worm behind him. "Now."
The Attack Begins – Nightfall
It began with fire.
Explosions rocked the eastern gates just after sunset. Saboteurs embedded within the city set fire to several armories. At the same time, ships flying neutral flags turned their ballistae inward and launched iron bolts over the seawalls.
Kael heard the first blast as he sat across from Daenerys in council. The flamelight from the chandeliers above trembled.
Grey Worm burst into the room moments later. "The Tiger's Legion. They've returned."
Daenerys rose immediately. "I thought they surrendered."
"They did," Kael said darkly, moving to her side. "And now they break oaths."
He paused, eyes narrowing. "No… they never swore them."
Chaos in the Streets
The Sons of the Harpy had been brutal in Meereen—but the Tiger's Legion was worse. Their loyalty lay with the old nobility of Volantis—the Triarchs who'd once ruled through money, bloodlines, and fear.
Masked in silver helms, they stormed through the merchant quarters, inciting chaos. Civilians loyal to Daenerys were butchered in alleys. The Red Temple's outer sanctums were set aflame. Fires lit up the night sky like signal beacons.
Kael moved through the carnage like a ghost, blade flashing gold in his grip—not divine, but forged by his own hand to mask his true nature.
Each kill was clean. Silent.
But the deeper he moved into the city, the more he realized: this wasn't a riot.
It was a coordinated coup.
The Queen's Command
Back in the palace, Daenerys donned her battle armor—black leather shaped to her body, dragon-scaled at the shoulders. Her hair had been tied into twin braids of war.
Missandei stood by her side, fearful but calm.
"Send word to the Unsullied," Dany ordered. "Seal the city gates. No one gets in or out."
Jorah arrived bloodied from the outer walls. "The Tiger's Legion numbers in the thousands. If they breach the center—"
"They won't," she said, fire in her eyes.
Kael entered a moment later, his armor singed, his expression grim. "This was timed. It's not just Volantis. Envoys from Yunkai and Lys were spotted outside the western watchtowers."
Daenerys turned sharply. "They're joining the fight?"
"They fear what you represent now," Kael said. "Faith. Flame. Unity. And something… unnatural."
Battle in the Temple District
Fighting erupted at the base of the Red Temple. Loyal Red Priests fought side-by-side with Unsullied against the Tiger's Legion. It was a rare sight—fanatics and soldiers of discipline defending the same altar.
Kael moved with them, not leading, not commanding—but always one step ahead. When a priestess was surrounded, he cut down her attackers. When fire threatened to collapse the steps, he summoned only enough wind to quell it, never more.
He restrained himself—not out of weakness, but promise.
Still, even the mortals around him began to notice.
"Who fights like that?" one murmured.
"He's not one of us."
"He's something else."
And Kael knew. The more he protected Daenerys in this world, the more he exposed what he truly was.
He was supposed to be her shadow. Her storm. Not her god.
The Palace Breached
By midnight, the southern gate fell.
A breach in the palace wall allowed a detachment of Tiger's Legion to enter the queen's stronghold. They stormed the hallways, screaming for the Dragon Queen's head.
Daenerys met them herself.
She wielded a curved blade, forged in Qarth, coated in obsidian lacquer. Her dragons had not returned from the skies, but her fury had never been so focused. She carved through attackers with clean grace. Grey Worm and Jorah flanked her, but even they were stunned by her ferocity.
Then, from the far end of the throne room—
A single figure stepped forward.
Tall. Black armor. Silver tiger helm. He removed it to reveal a Volantene noble, scarred and proud.
"You're no queen," he spat. "You're a pretender in a city of corpses."
Daenerys said nothing.
She stepped forward—and cut his throat.
Aftermath – Blood and Smoke
Dawn broke over a ruined Volantis.
The fires still burned in the lower quarters. The Red Temple was half-collapsed. Over five thousand dead lined the streets.
But Daenerys still stood.
Kael found her on the eastern ramparts, overlooking the River Rhoyne. Her face was stained with soot, her armor bloodied, her hands trembling slightly.
"Another enemy gone," she whispered.
He said nothing.
"Tell me I did the right thing."
"You gave them a chance," he replied softly. "They chose swords."
She turned to him. "And what if every city chooses the same?"
Kael stepped closer, brushing a blood-matted braid from her cheek. "Then they'll learn what it means to face fire."
Their lips met briefly
They were no longer conqueror and guardian.
They were simply two people burning at the center of a world that refused to bow.