Game of thrones: A storm is coming

The streets of Pentos bustled with life as Daeron and Daena strolled through the market square, accompanied by a small retinue of guards. The air was filled with the aroma of exotic spices, freshly baked bread, and roasted meats. Children played in the alleyways, while merchants shouted over one another to advertise their wares.

"Prince Daeron the Great! Prince Daeron the Great!" A group of children chorused as they ran up to him, giggling and holding out their hands. Daeron crouched down with a grin and ruffled a few of their hairs.

Daena followed closely, her silver hair catching the sunlight, drawing more attention than she was comfortable with. "They really love you here," she said, gesturing at the crowd. "Prince Daeron the Great, huh? How'd you land a title like that? Save a princess? Slay a dragon?"

Daeron snorted. "Save a princess? Please. You're the second I've even met, and I've yet to be properly rewarded for saving you."

"Is that so? Is the heartfelt promise of my support till death meant nothing?" Daena quipped, raising an eyebrow.

"Nah, I want a castle made of gold," Daeron replied with mock seriousness. "But no, the title's less about theatrics and more about… stuff I've done."

"Stuff?"

Daeron crouched to the kids level, producing a pouch of candies as if by magic. "Alright, one each, no shoving! And if I hear of any fighting, next time, you get broccoli."

The children gasped in horror at the mention of vegetables. "Not broccoli!"

Daena watched the scene with a smirk. "You're a hero to children too, I see. How touching."

"Kids are the real critics," Daeron said, standing and dusting off his knees. "Adults are polite. Kids will tell you if you're boring."

Daena pressed him. "So, seriously—what's this Prince Daeron the Great business? Did you wrestle a bear?"

"No, but that's an idea for next week," Daeron joked. "The title came about because I, uh… helped a few people, I guess."

One of the kids asked incredulously, " Big sister, you don't even know the tale of 'Daeron the Great'?"

Another added from beside, " She is pretty but stupid." To which Daeron gave him a light bonk, "Don't be rude!" 

Daena crossed her arms and huffed, "Alright! i don't know this story. Now tell me."

Another kid took a dramatic pose while the rest followed his suit taking their positions as audience.

He cleared his throat and spoke," Listen well to this heroic tale, for this tale is of a heroic prince who saved everyone and gave freedom to them. The brave prince Daeron, flying on his mighty dragon once flew past the city of Meeren. As he flew by the ancient city, he heard the cries of slaves and saw the innocents being harmed. His kind heart felt sad for this injustice, so he swooshed down his mighty dragon, burned all the evil masters, and liberated whole city." To which the other kids clapped and cheered.

He continued "Once the liberated slaves asked him to rule the city, He only smiled and refused. He told them, 'I gave you freedom to choose your own fate, not to become your new master. I helped because I had the power to do so.' Then he flew away on his mighty dragon , to help others in need. Thus people called the Prince 'Daeron the Great', for no other title would be more fitting!" 

The children cheered, and Daeron reached into his satchel, producing a handful of copper coins. He handed them out with a wink. "Alright , enough with the hype, kids. And don't keep changing the story each time!"

Daena, watching the scene unfold with a bemused smile, leaned closer. "Prince Daeron the Great, huh? Quite the title for someone who claims to be humble."

Daeron smiled and changed the topic, "You know, it was one thing after another after I arrived here. There was the time I outsmarted the Triarchs of Volantis in a trade deal and brought cheaper grain to the city during a shortage. Then there was that business with the Shadow Council's spies; found them all, flushed them out, and gave the city its first decent night's sleep in years. You have no idea how much shit those guys are responsible for."

Daena tilted her head, intrigued. "Go on."

He gestured dramatically as they walked, earning a few curious glances from passersby. "And let's not forget the spice trade. Pentos used to be a backwater for spices, but now? We're the flavor capital of Essos! People are addicted to my cinnamon buns."

"Cinnamon buns?"

"They're revolutionary!" Daeron declared, as if unveiling a grand military strategy. "Warm, sweet, a touch of spice. Perfect for breakfast or bribing children to chant your titles."

Daena laughed, shaking her head. "You're impossible."

"Oh, and did I mention the time I convinced the Merchant Princes to fund the city's first public bathhouse? That was a hit. Clean citizens are happy citizens, Daena."

As they turned a corner, an elderly woman waved from her stall. "Prince Daeron! My back hasn't hurt since you brought in that healer from Lys. Bless you, my boy!"

Daeron waved back, beaming. "Ah, and there's my proof. I also dabble in public health, you see."

Daena gave him an amused sidelong glance. "You've done a lot for this city."

"Well," Daeron said with a shrug, "a great city makes a great prince, and a great prince makes…"

"A great city?"

"Exactly!" He grinned, clearly pleased with himself.

They reached the central square, where another group of children swarmed Daeron like a flock of overly enthusiastic pigeons. "Prince Daeron!" one of them shouted. "Can you tell us a story?"

"Story? Alright," Daeron said, crouching to their level. "Once upon a time, there was a very busy prince who had to explain his whole backstory to a very nosy princess...."

"Hey!" Daena interjected, but Daeron continued with a grin.

"—but he loved his people too much to let them down. So he gave the princess an apple to keep her quiet and went back to his noble work."

The children giggled as Daeron handed Daena an apple, straight-faced. "There. A happy ending."

Daena took the apple, shaking her head. "You're ridiculous."

"And yet, beloved," Daeron replied, standing and stretching.

Daena chuckled, her violet eyes sparkling. "You're quite the character, Daeron."

He gave her a mock bow. "At your service, Princess. Though if you decide to make a song about my greatness, I might have to reconsider our alliance."

She smirked. "Oh, don't worry. I'm not much of a singer. But I will admit—you've earned your title."

Daeron grinned, and for a moment, the weight of their respective pasts seemed to lift, replaced by the simple joy of a bustling city and the warmth of its people.

Later that evening, Daeron stood on the balcony of his private chambers, the cool night air brushing against his face as he gazed at the shimmering lights of Pentos. Acnologia rested in the garden below, his immense form illuminated by the pale moonlight.

Soft footsteps drew Daeron's attention, and he turned to see Daena stepping onto the balcony, Albion perched gracefully on her shoulder. The young dragon chirped softly, its silver-and-blue scales gleaming in the starlight.

"You're troubled," Daena said, her voice gentle but perceptive.

"Not troubled," Daeron replied, though his tone was contemplative. "Just... thinking about the next step. Pentos is secure, my forces are getting ready, but I feel the pull of Westeros. It's calling me, Daena. That's where everything began, and where it must be resolved." He looked her and spread his arms, " It's funny really. I haven't been there for long, and I don't particularly have good memories of it. Yet I miss it. Or maybe I just miss kin." 

Daena studied him carefully, her violet eyes searching his face. "Then take me with you," she said, her voice firm and resolute. "Albion and I owe you our lives. Whatever lies across the Narrow Sea, I want to stand by your side."

Daeron's expression softened, but his voice carried a quiet steel. "Daena, I can't."

She frowned, her grip tightening on Albion. "Why not? Don't you trust me?"

"It's not about trust," Daeron said, stepping closer. "It's about your safety . My enemies will stop at nothing to exploit my weaknesses. To them, I'm a crucial pawn, but they don't have any leverage over me. and by taking you, I'd be putting you in harm's way.

Specially when your dragon was just born. Westeros is a viper's nest, and I won't drag you into its venomous coils if I can avoid it."

"I'm not afraid," Daena insisted, her voice trembling with both unwillingness and conviction.

Daeron placed a steady hand on her shoulder, his gray eyes meeting hers with unwavering sincerity. "I know you're not. But courage isn't enough. If something were to happen to you, it would be my failure, my regret to carry. I won't risk getting you killed for no reason , Daena—not when you've just found your freedom and your purpose."

Daena looked down, her fingers brushing against Albion's smooth scales. The dragon nuzzled her cheek, sensing her turmoil. After a long pause, she exhaled, her voice barely above a whisper. "I understand. Is there any other way I can help?"

Daeron stepped back slightly, his tone softening. "While I'm gone, I need you to do something for me."

She raised her head, her expression curious. "What is it?"

"Take care of Pentos," Daeron said firmly. "Get accustomed to the responsibilities of governing a city—its people, its politics, its needs. You've seen what leadership entails. Use this time to grow, to prepare. Orlen will help you if you have any questions.

When I return, I promise I'll take you across Essos. We'll travel to new lands, see the unknown , and maybe… even help you reclaim your kingdom if possible ."

Daena's eyes glistened with unshed tears, her lips parting as if to speak, but no words came. Instead, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms tightly around him. Her embrace was warm, trembling with emotion.

"Thank you," she whispered against his chest, her voice choked with feeling. "For everything, Daeron. For giving me hope when I thought I'd lost it all."

Daeron hesitated for a moment before gently patting her back, a faint smile curving his lips. "You're stronger than you think, Daena. And when I return, we'll shape a future worthy of that strength."

Daena pulled away abruptly, her cheeks flushed. She looked at him one last time and whispered, "Come back safely," before turning and hurrying back inside, leaving Daeron standing on the balcony with an amused yet wistful expression.

"Ah, the feelings of youth," he murmured to himself, glancing down at Acnologia, who rumbled softly in approval.

Daeron's gaze returned to the city lights below, his resolve hardening. Westeros awaited, but he left knowing Pentos and its people were in capable hands. He did not know what awaited him across the narrow sea, but he was eager to find out.