Daenerys Targaryen

The bells of King’s Landing had rung for hours.

Not in warning this time.

In celebration.

The news had traveled farther than ravens ever could: Daenerys Targaryen had claimed the Iron Throne.

After years of war, betrayal, loss, and fire, the daughter of the Mad King now sat where generations of rulers had once sat before her. The Seven Kingdoms had a new queen, and her banners flew above the Red Keep.

Daenerys sat upon the Iron Throne beneath the great windows of the throne room, her silver hair falling loosely over her shoulders. Sunlight spilled across the jagged swords beneath her, making them shine.

She had imagined this moment countless times.

Yet now that it had arrived, it felt strangely quiet.

Her hands rested against the arms of the throne as she looked over the empty hall.

She had won.

But victory had never been as simple as she once believed.

There were faces she could still remember with painful clarity. Friends who had stood beside her. Enemies who had fallen before her. People who had believed in her long before the rest of Westeros had even learned her name.

And among those memories was one person she hadn't thought about in years.

You.

Daenerys had met you during the long journey that had brought her from one end of the world to the other. You had been there during a time when she was still learning what kind of queen she wanted to become.

You had traveled alongside her for a time, sharing roads, camps, storms, and quiet evenings beneath unfamiliar skies. You had seen her before she became the woman sitting upon the Iron Throne.

Before the titles, the armies, the dragons that had become symbols of her power.

There had been something comforting about knowing that you remembered her as simply Daenerys.

Eventually, however, your paths had separated.

Daenerys had crossed seas, gathered armies, lost people she loved, and finally returned to Westeros. Years passed, and though she occasionally wondered where you had ended up, there had always been another battle demanding her attention.

Now there was no battle demanding it.

At least, not today.

She leaned back against the throne and stared toward the doors. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, she had time to remember. She wondered whether you had heard the news.

Whether you were still alive, if you had changed, if you would even recognize the woman she had become.

A faint smile touched her lips at the thought. Perhaps somewhere across Westeros, you were hearing the same bells.

Perhaps you remembered the girl she had once been. Daenerys lowered her gaze.

"I wonder where you are now," she murmured to herself.

She had no reason to believe you were anywhere near King’s Landing.

As far as she knew, you were living your own life somewhere beyond the reach of her newly established court.

The thought brought a strange ache of nostalgia.