The Divine Ascendant

Daenerys wasn't really listening to what they were talking about at all. Her attention simply wasn't here.

Her violet eyes drifted across the ruins of the Dragonpit, the scorched stones of her ancestors acting as a somber, hollowed-out theater for a meeting she found increasingly tedious.

This was where the dragons of old, the pride of House Targaryen, had been chained and diminished until they were no larger than cats and dogs from what she'd heard.

Her gaze passed over the assembly with a detached interest. There was Jon Snow, Tyrion, whose clever tongue seemed to be tripping over itself in his desperation to maintain peace at the moment, Varys, she saw her own loyal attendants, Theon Greyjoy looking like a man haunted by his own skin, Ser Jorah Mormont watching her, and Davos Seaworth, by the northern king's side.

Further back stood the warriors, The Hound and Brienne, and then there were the others, Olenna Tyrell, who had insisted on coming despite the danger, and Ellaria Sand, clutching her last living daughter, who too wanted to come if only to gloat at Cersei that they were alive.

Then, her eyes landed on the opposition. Cersei Lannister sat on her makeshift throne with a smirk that didn't reach her cold eyes, her brother Jaime at her side. Behind them loomed the Mountain, a golem of rotting meat and plate armor that didn't seem to breathe.

And finally, the yapping monkey.

Euron Greyjoy.

From the moment the man had opened his mouth, it had been a relentless stream of yapping and nonsense. Honestly, Daenerys wondered if he even realized how small he sounded.

Perhaps it was because she had changed. Yes, she acknowledged it internally with a sense of grim clarity, she had changed. Months in the presence of someone far greater had ruined her for traditional politics.

Lord Aether had, in a way, shown her just how small she was. Yes, she was greater than a lot of people, but with someone like him, it was like she was nothing at all. And in a way, too, he had been teaching her, and he was someone who would call her out when she did something stupid.

The "Game" They were playing, too, had helped her in a way, as she had started to understand humans better in what they like, how they acted, and what made some people tick. When to back down, when to pressure, and when to accept something without waving her big sticks(her dragons) at every problem.

His attitude had also somewhat rubbed off on her. Because of him, she hadn't rushed into King's Landing to burn it to the ground the moment she arrived. She was playing a longer, more calculated game.

She could, after all, be more patient in her ways, Cersei could not. She had already secured places to get food for her army and cut Cersei off, so even just waiting the bitch out was an option, and they was the last option if all else really failed, her children.

A small, private smile touched her lips as she thought of her children. Her five beautiful children.

Baelon and Rhaenon had grown at an astonishing rate, their scales beautiful and their wingspans stretching until they had caught up to Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion. She now possessed five full-grown dragons, forces of nature that the world simply wasn't prepared for. She had more dragons than Aegon when he conquered the seven kingdoms. She nearly let out a snort at the thought of Cersei's reaction if the woman knew that the "three" everyone whispered about were now five.

She had the power to end the war in a single afternoon. She could take King's Landing, pull Cersei from her throne, and turn the Red Keep into a pile of slag. But that meant death on a scale that made her stomach turn. She truly wanted to be better than her father, the Mad King, who had wanted to burn everyone. She wanted to be a queen whose legacy would never be forgotten.

That was the primary reason she was here right now, enduring this farce.

When Jon Snow had first told her about the White Walkers, she had wanted to be skeptical. She wanted to deny it, to call it a Northman's bluff or a desperate ploy for her armies. But her skepticism had died the moment she met Aether. After meeting a god who conjured dragon eggs out of thin air and healed the dying with a single drop of liquid gold, the idea of the dead walking felt like a mundane reality.

She also remembered a conversation with Lord Aether where he had mentioned, almost in passing, a greater threat to her in the North. She had assumed he meant the Great Houses, but she had been wrong. Terribly wrong.

She had taken Jon Snow onto Viserion's back and flown beyond the Wall to see for herself. What she saw there had scared the hell out of her, thousands upon thousands of the dead, moving south towards them.

She would never forget the Night King. She would never forget the way he had gripped that ice spear, the air around him freezing as he stared at them from the ground.

He had thrown it with terrifying precision. She had been on Viserion's back when the weapon was hurled, and only a frantic dodge had saved them. The spear had grazed Viserion's scales, leaving a jagged, frost-bitten gouge that had bled black ichor and smoked with cold. Had she not dodged, Viserion, her child, would have died at that moment.

He had suffered a serious injury from that and needed days to heal, and at one point, she thought he'd not even make it, but he eventually did.

She was not willing to lose her children to a monster of ice just because she was too proud to speak with a monster of flesh. So here she was, in a truce with that bitch Cersei, and a part of her was already regretting it as the insults began to fly. They hadn't even been there for ten minutes before Tyrion started his explanations and Euron started looking for blood.

Daenerys let out a sigh. It was so loud that the entire place fell into an abrupt, awkward silence.

"Are we boring you?" Cersei sneered, her voice dripping with venom.

Daenerys turned to the current Queen of the Kingdoms, giving her a deadpan, unimpressed look that she had borrowed directly from Aether's repertoire, that annoying look he'd give her when she asked a question he didn't want to bother answering.

"Frankly? Yes," she said, leaning back comfortably in her seat.

Her clear, blunt reply made some gasp and gap. Even Olenna Tyrell looked at her with a glimmer of renewed interest.

"We came here for a truce to deal with the walking dead," Daenerys continued, her voice echoing in the stone pit. "But we haven't even gotten to the point, and all I'm hearing are petty insults. Yes, Ellaria, I know you want revenge. Yes, Cersei, I know you want to keep the throne. And you, Euron... you just seem to want to hear yourself talk. Everyone has their grudges and their shit, but that is not why we are here now, is it."

She leaned forward, her violet eyes hardening into flint. "If you all cannot stay civil long enough to actually discuss our survival, then I'll just leave. We can finish our war now, and I'll deal with the dead myself later if I have to."

It was a lie, she knew she couldn't face that army alone, but she was certain she could hold them back for a while until Lord Aether returned. She hadn't seen him since he saved Olenna and Ellaria, but she could feel him.

Ever since she had started to pray to him, she felt... different. Energized. Stronger. It was as if her connection to her dragons had been reinforced, she could feel their moods more clearly, and sometimes she even thought she heard the echoes of their thoughts in her mind.

The silence that followed her outburst was absolute. Cersei looked like she was about to turn a violent shade of red from pure, unadulterated anger. Then, a sharp, rhythmic sound broke the tension.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

"Damn, that was beautiful."

Daenerys's back straightened instantly. She recognized that voice. Around her, her allies stiffened, their hands flying to their weapons.

Lord Aether was back.

He walked into the Dragonpit like he was taking a leisurely stroll through a garden, completely ignoring the fact that he was surrounded by the most dangerous people in Westeros. Cersei's guards drew their swords, but Aether didn't even glance at them.

"Well said, Daenerys," he said, looking genuinely pleased. "And here I thought you hadn't grown since I left."

"Lord Aether," Daenerys said, standing up immediately to greet him. "Welcome back. I was hoping to offer my apologies, given the actions of Lady Ellaria when you were last with us."

She had been worried that his sudden departure after the insult meant she had lost her chance at his favor, or worse, his healing for her condition. He waved her off with a lazy hand.

"I was busy with other things," he said, laughing. His eyes were literally sparkling with a strange, emerald light. "And I got a surprise of my own, so I'm in quite a good mood as of late."

"Who's this cunt?" Euron Greyjoy's voice cut through the air.

Daenerys winced. 'Oh, you absolute fool.' She nearly let out another sigh. Was this the attitude of everyone in this world, to see a stranger and immediately insult them? People really should be more polite, you never know when you might be insulting a god.

She watched the way Aether's smile simply... froze on his face as he turned to look at Euron.

"Oh? 'Cunt'?And who is it that you think you're speaking to, boy?" The word 'boy' seemed to vibrate in the air as he spoke.

"Who is this commoner?" Cersei added sharply, annoyed someone had the audacity to interrupt them.

Daenerys watched the amused spark leave Aether's eyes. She stayed quiet, as did everyone on her side of the pit. She was sure she wasn't the only one praying for Cersei to say one more wrong thing.

"Sister," Tyrion yelled out to Cersei, "shut your mouth now". He could already see the god's mood was dropping.

"You dare to tell me—" Cersei began, but she never finished.

The world suddenly felt like it was a hundred times heavier. Cersei and her men fell from their chairs, and where they stood, hitting the stone ground. They heaved and panted, unable to draw air, their bodies pinned by an invisible, unstoppable weight.

"I asked a question, mortal," Aether's voice rang out, echoing in their very bones.

Daenerys could feel a little of the pressure, but it wasn't meant for her and her people, thankfully. Euron was on his knees, struggling for air, terrified. He saw the Stranger standing beside him, a cold blade resting against his neck. Then, as quickly as it had come, the pressure lifted.

"Ah, what the heck," Aether said, waving a hand. "I'm in a good mood at the moment."

Relief flooded the room, but it was short-lived.

"So, since I'm feeling generous... I'll only punish one of you."

Before anyone could blink—Snap.

Euron Greyjoy's head exploded. There was no warning. Just a spray of blood across the stones and his body that slumped over like a discarded rag.

Silence consumed the Dragonpit, as absolute fear followed. No one spoke. No one moved. no one dared to

Aether turned back to Daenerys with a bright grin.

"Now then... where were we? Ah, yes."

"I'm back."

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