Supported by the Queensguard, Daenerys carefully descended the steps as Ser Barristan approached at a measured pace.
Suddenly, she turned and looked up at the grotesque chair towering above them. "Ser, will the Tyrells fulfill their duties from now on?"
Standing nearby, Ser Barristan paused slightly. "They will."
The old knight's gaze remained sharp. "The Tyrells must do so. Your Grace, you and King Gryn have already bestowed sufficient glory upon them."
"I hope the Seven Kingdoms will know peace forever—"
Daenerys murmured. The pressure on her was considerable. She feared that her own negligence or mistakes might affect her husband at the edge of the world, and worried about the great war tied to humanity's fate.
Although she had decisively "dealt with" the heir of Highgarden just moments ago, once her emotions settled, she could not help asking herself again and again—was there a more appropriate way to "appease" this rose family that had contributed so much?
And lately, her emotions had become increasingly difficult to control. Her original intention had only been to intimidate the unruly heir of Highgarden, but—earlier, she had nearly ordered dragonfire unleashed. Her dragon could sense her killing intent.
She even felt a lingering fear. She had read of her father, the Mad King, and had personally witnessed her brother grow ever more brutal—
Yes, whenever Gryn was not by her side, she became deeply uneasy, though she had never shown it—
For Gryn, she could be strong, but during this time—
Daenerys guessed it was because of her pregnancy. Her hand stroked her lower belly. Her and his bloodline—this was her sweet burden.
Her gaze left the Iron Throne, and she tilted her head slightly. "Ser, will Willas serve the coming war wholeheartedly at Highgarden?"
"He will. Viscount Tyrell must display absolute loyalty."