Viserys's blood had been washed away by the next morning.
Daenerys sat on the cushioned couch on the terrace, cradling the hatchling named Nightshade.
The little creature slept soundly, its black scales gleaming softly in the morning light. The blood-red marking along its spine looked like a wound that had yet to heal.
With every breath, its tiny chest rose and fell, and two thin wisps of white smoke puffed from its nostrils.
Daenerys stroked it gently, feeling the warmth and vitality beneath her palm.
She knew this hatchling had been bought with her brother's life.
But she felt no sorrow, only the calm of knowing that everything had finally settled.
The old Targaryen line was dead, destroyed by Viserys's madness and stupidity.
And she would forge a new age alongside Lynn.
"Your Majesty."
Missandei's voice came from behind her. She carried a plate of sliced fruit and a bowl of warm goat's milk.
Daenerys came back to herself and smiled at her.
She had grown used to that form of address.
Ever since Lynn had announced in the Council Chamber that she would oversee Astapor's internal affairs, everyone, including Jorah Mormont, had begun addressing her as Queen.
Everyone knew Lynn's ambitions.
It was only a matter of time before she became Queen.
She looked out the window.
The former Plaza of Punishment was now the busiest place in the city.
Countless craftsmen sweated beside their furnaces, forging new armor for the Unsullied.
In the streets, free people queued for food under the Unsullied's guidance and cleared the rubble left by the war.
Everything was orderly and brimming with life.
Grey Worm, the newly appointed commander of the Unsullied, had done better than anyone had imagined.
He spoke little, but possessed an iron will and a remarkable ability to get