- 24 AC -
- Meereen -
The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long, blood-red shadows over Meereen. To the untrained eye, the city was a sprawling marvel of multi-colored bricks shimmering under the Essosi sun, but its true foundation was much darker.
The economy of Meereen worked mostly on slavery. Slaves were both an exported good and something that the Greatmasters used as a labour force. And without them, the city would stop functioning overnight.
So, if one were to analyse this delicate little detail a bit closer, one would find out that taking over Meereen wasn't as difficult or as complicated as it was believed to be. There were far more slaves than there were free men with weapons.
As Maegor Targaryen moved silently and furtively through the twisty alleys and wide brick streets, the brutal reality of the slaver city was laid bare. The Skahazadhan River, which was essential to the city's trade, flowed into the saltwater bay, where massive galleys continuously unloaded their cargo of goods, such as captured and defeated slaves they bought from Dothraki or from pirates.
Slave trade was a business like any other to the Great Masters; they mined the resources in the nearby hills, built houses and structures, maintained the lush brick terraces where night-blooming flowers and lemon trees grew, organised the households and died in the fighting pits for entertainment.
Above the filth and the suffering stood the Great Pyramid, crowned with the massive bronze Harpy of Meereen. Several lesser pyramids displayed the proud colours of the other great masters. Another important part of the city was the Temple of the Graces, which existed in each Ghiscari city. The Graces are the priestesses of the Ghiscari religion and wear different coloured robes to denote different functions.
Maegor observed one of the Great Masters of the House of Kandaq and Merreq make their way inside a particular high-standing pleasure garden, talking to the Red Graces with calculating eyes. The Red Graces are priestesses who provide sexual services.
At nighttime, the Red Graces wait in little snuggeries in the pleasure gardens every night until a man chooses them. Those who are not chosen must remain until the sun comes up. Even girls of noble blood, as soon as they are of age, must serve a mandatory year of service in the pleasure gardens in the Temple of Graces.
Seeing the two men from different noble Houses enter the pleasure gardens was what Maegor had been waiting for.
He felt no moral outrage at the concept of slavery; he was a dragon after all, and dragons ruled lesser men, but he found the utter physical weakness of the Meereenese Masters who relied on chained wretches to fight their battles and pour their wine and suck their cocks.
Tonight, he would teach some of them a lesson in true power and the importance of combining physical and mental power. After weeks of staying and fighting in Meereen, it was finally time for Maegor's plan to begin.
.
Under the cover of night, the small escort of Targaryen ships, which had arrived at the docks a few days ago, was being prepared for the journey back home. Maegor did not immediately go to them, since they had their orders. Instead, he made his way toward the opulent estates near the fighting pits, zeroing in on a massive slave enclosure that belonged to none other than Great Master Grazdan mo Ullhor.
A dozen Unsullied guards patrolled the perimeter, their spears shining in the torchlight.
Maegor did not hide in the shadows like a thief. He walked directly into the torchlight, where his big, heavily muscled frame made for an imposing sight. The guards were alerted when someone approached and raised their spears in near-perfect sync, aiming them at Maegor.
Maegor's heartbeat accelerated, the whites of his eyes turning black as the purple started to shine. Blue silhouettes detached from the guards, revealing their coordinated attacks before they even happened. And then, he shot forward.
He moved like a blur, which the night and the torches' light made even worse, and arrived in front of them.
He stepped inside the reach of the first spear, his strong fingers wrapping around the Unsullied's throat and crushing it with a sickening crunch. He grabbed the falling man's spear and drove the sharp end through the bronze breastplate of the man closest, piercing his thorax, lungs and heart and launching him backwards into three others.
Maegor made sure not to use his powerful body to kill them, but instead used their spears. He didn't want anyone to know that it was him, and if he made as much of a mess here as he did in the fighting pits, then things would become rather obvious.
In less than ten seconds, the dozen Unsullied, who were some of the most deadly fighters in Essos, were a pile of pierced, bleeding corpses. He moved the bodies slightly to make it seem as if a fight had taken place, and then positioned the weapons perfectly as well.
Maegor grabbed a heavy iron keyring from the captain's belt and tossed it through the bars of the slave pen. They had heard the fighting and, with confusion and fear, observed him do it.
"Take their weapons," Maegor commanded in high Valyrian. "Free yourself and the other slaves. Burn the streets and the pyramids of the Great Masters. Reclaim what was taken from you and pay it back a hundredfold. This is your only chance."
His deep voice cut through the stunned silence of the captives.
He didn't wait to see if they obeyed because he knew they would. He had shown them that he was impossibly powerful, and with such an example, they would follow.
That was the spark that lit the fuse of one of the most bloody and chaotic events in the history of Meereen, after the Ghiscari Empire fought against the Valyrian Freehold.
The enraged slaves unlocked their cages, grabbed the bronze spears and other weapons they could find, freed other slaves and surged into the streets with roars of vengeance and a thirst for blood. The alarm bells of Meereen began to ring.
The slave revolt was the perfect distraction; Maegor needed to do what he was actually here to do. He had someone to meet that night.
.
Amidst the ensuing chaos of screaming guards and citizens and burning palanquins outside, Maegor scaled the stepped walls of Grazdan mo Ullhor's private pyramid with terrifying speed and dexterity. His heavy muscles didn't seem to slow him down at all, not even the two bodies he carried with him while he did. The tips of his fingers showed incredible strength as he reached for the very small gaps in the stone.
By the point he had made it up there, the slave revolt was in full swing and, like a tsunami, had grown and would only continue to do so.
He reached the balcony of the Great Master's private quarters, where the man used to drink his expensive wines, have pleasure slaves please him and sneer at the inferiority of all others. Maegor set down the two bodies he carried and then tore the heavy wooden doors from the stone as easily as a man might pull a weed from the dirt.
Inside, Grazdan was frantically packing chests of jewellery, while shouting at two Unsullied guards.
"Secure the Pyramid and inform me of any changes that happen," Grazdan said.
"His Radiance! A disaster! The slaves have managed to enter hte pyramid. We need to leave at once!" one of the household servants entered the room.
"What?! How?!" Grazdan shouted.
"We don't know. One moment they were not here, and we had everything under control, and the next--"
"Enough! I don't care! What about the Targaryen Queen and Prince?"
"We don't know anything about them. It is chaos out there, Your Magnificence!"
"Shame, I wanted to bend that whore under me and fuck her on the balcony for all to see and hear her scream. Get everything here and come with me! We're going to the fortified dungeons and then leave through the tunnels. But I will not leave my gold here for the worms to get. Otherwise those cunts might steal it!"
Maegor stepped into the lavish room. His presence alerted the two men.
"Y-YOU!! SILVER-HAIRED DEMON! THIS IS YOUR FAULT!! GUARDS, KILL HIM!" Grazdar shouted.
The Unsullied entered the room, their spears already prepared, but they were hopelessly outmatched. Maegor moved his head to the side, dodging the spear thrust, caught the first Unsullied's spear with his hand, and drove his palm upward into the eunuch's nose, driving the bone into his brain.
He moved back a bit, dodging the other's attack, and using the spear from the first Unsullied, threw it across the room, pinning the second Unsullied to the heavy wooden door by his throat.
"Urkkk..."
The two men never made more noise than the gurgling and silent grunts of pain as they died. Maegor had to respect that; such warriors deserved his recognition.
Grazdan backed away, tripping over a silk rug and falling to the floor, his purple tokar tangling around his legs. He stammered and whimpered in fear, while the servant was about to run out of the room.
Maegor caught him and twisted his head.
"You..." Grazdan stammered, his eyes wide with terror as he looked at the blood on Maegor's hands. "The gold... you won the wagers! My men delivered the chests to your mother! I will also deliver the rest I still owe! Why are you here?"
Maegor walked slowly toward the Great Master, his footsteps completely silent on the stone floor, as the cacophony of whatever was happening in the pyramid was growing louder.
He reached into the leather pouch at his waist and withdrew a small, ornate vial. It was made of dark glass, filled with a cloudy liquid.
Grazdan's face drained of all colour as he recognised what it was.
"A celebratory gift of sweet wine, sent to our quarters by the generous Great Master of House of Kandaq," Maegor spoke smoothly, turning the vial in his fingers. "Did you truly think I would not smell the manticore venom masking the scent of the grapes? You pathetic waste even used one of the other noble houses' names as an insurance. You sought to poison us to keep your gold, because you didn't think I would win all those fights."
"No!" Grazdan cried out, pressing his back against the wall. "It was a mistake! A servant's treachery!"
Maegor's cold, purple eyes narrowed, and he let out a short scoff.
"If you were simply after my life, that would have been alright. It is, after all, expected of a man of your station to cut throats left and right and improve your position. And yet, that's not really why I'm here and why this is happening to you."
Maegor was not right in front of Grazdan, talking to him as if he were a child.
"Th--then... why?" the man managed to say.
"Simple. You looked at my mother with lust and greed. Just like what I heard you say just moments ago. Truthfully, I planned to kill you before that, but I could have ended you swiftly."
Maegor reached down, his iron-dense fingers wrapping around Grazdan's jaw, lifting the grown man off the floor by his face. Grazdan kicked and thrashed, but Maegor's grip was like steel.
"Don't cry, Grazdan. You have a chance to witness something nice before you die," Maegor whispered.
With his free hand, Maegor uncorked the vial. He squeezed Grazdan's jaw, forcing his mouth open, and poured the entire contents of the poisoned wine down the Great Master's throat.
Doing it this way was rather cruel. Manticore venom was lethal as soon as it reached the heart, but by ingesting it, the process took far longer, since it had to first pass through the stomach and liver before reaching the heart.
Maegor also forced him to swallow just enough to most certainly kill him, but not enough to do it quickly. Now, the venom fought the stomach's sour gastric acid and slowly moved through his bowels until it reached his bloodstream.
And that was bloody painful.
"NO!! No no no NOOO!! Urgh... URGHH.. aahhh...!!"
The pain would slowly start to grow worse and worse. But until then, there was something else to do.
Maegor moved to the two bodies he had carried up here and slapped their faces.
The men, who had only been knocked out, woke up and looked around in surprise.
"What is going on?! Wha... Grazdan?! What happened?" the Great Master of House of Merreq asked.
Grazdan was starting to groan and held his stomach as it grew hotter and hotter. The Great Master of the House of Merreq was utterly confused and looked around, seeing another Great Master he knew well.
"Pahl? What are you doing here?! What is going on here?!!" he shouted.
"Urgh, my head... I have no idea what's going on... How did we get here?" the Great Master of the House of Pahl asked.
They moved towards Grazdan in worry.
"What happened?"
"Who did this to you and how did we get here?"
Grazdan looked at his former rivals, with tears in his eyes. He cried, shook his head, and then pointed to the back of the chamber.
"Huh?"
The two men turned around and were shocked to find Maegor standing right behind them with two short knives in his hands. They jumped up and tried to move away.
"You!! What are you doing here?!"
"Did you bring us here?!"
"Answer me!!" Merreq shouted.
"What's happening is that one of you will die tonight," Maegor started.
"What?"
"This is an outrage!! You will--"
Maegor slapped the two men, making sure not to kill them.
"You can count yourselves unlucky or lucky; that depends entirely on you because tonight doesn't have to be your last night alive. You can save yourselves."
The two men looked at the dragon prince in fear. The groans of pain coming from Grazdan were growing louder and longer. He was close to starting to shout as the poison sizzled through his bowels.
Maegor threw the two knives in front of them.
"It is simple. You both will fight using these knives. One of you will die, and the other will get to live. But not only that, he will get to take all the wealth that Grazdan has in this pyramid of his for himself."
"..."
The two men looked at each other. Naturally, there was fear in their eyes and panic. But what were they supposed to do?
"You should hurry, however. By the sounds of fighting outside, I'd say you don't have much time before the slaves make it in here."
Under normal circumstances, this would have been a long discussion, where neither man would have agreed right away. But the shouts of pain from Grazdan and the sounds of incoming angry slaves drove the two men over the edge.
Merreq grabbed the knife off the ground and tried to pierce Pahl, only to slip on the soft silk and fall. Surprised by this, Pahl understood that he had to act and grabbed the knife as well.
He jumped forward, on top of his rival and tried to pierce him. This, however, didn't work out so well, and they started cutting and stabbing without planning. It was a hideous, horrendous sight to witness.
...
A few moments later, Marraq actually managed to emerge victorious, having cut open Pahl's coronary artery. But he had been stabbed into his stomach several times, and it was only a matter of time before he bled to death.
Grazdan meanwhile hit the floor, clutching his stomach. He convulsed, his eyes bulging as bloody foam erupted from his lips. He clawed at his own throat, screaming a horrific, gurgling sound as his insides burned to ash.
"AAAAAHHHH...GGGGAGGGG....!!!"
Maegor left without a flicker of emotion. It would take another two agonising minutes before the Great Master finally died.
.
The heavy wooden doors of the chamber opened, and half a dozen Targaryen guards stepped in, led by Ser Vorian Massey. They looked at the dead Unsullied, the agonising figure of the two Great Masters, and the young prince standing calmly in the centre of the room.
"The city watch is distracted by the slave riot in the lower districts and two pyramids, my prince," Ser Vorian reported.
The veteran knight's eyes lingered nervously on Maegor's blood-stained hands. They knew the prince's reputation, and were aware of his potential for cruelty. But this was still hard to swallow for a knight of Westeros. Maegor was supposed to be 12.
"The Queen awaits your return."
"Good," Maegor said.
He kicked open Grazdan's personal chests, revealing the treasure.
There were three chests of heavy Meereenese copper and gold, a trove of rare, uncut rubies and sapphires from the Jade Sea, and even rare Valyrian scrolls Grazdan had hoarded as curiosities.
"Take everything of value," Maegor commanded. "How are the others doing?"
"They have already managed to loot most of the wealth that was stored, my prince. Two of the pyramids are now basically empty, and thanks to the slaves, no one will suspect us. But we had to stop, since the weight was getting too much for our vessels."
"Understood. We leave tonight. Back to Westeros. I have a tourney in King's Landing to attend to."
As the guards hastily loaded the last bit of wealth of the Great Master, Maegor stepped back out onto the balcony. He looked out over the burning streets of Meereen, listening to the screams of the slavers and the roars of the freed slaves.
He had come to Essos to bloody his hands, but he was leaving with several ships filled with gold and riches.
His 13th name day was approaching, and he would finally go to King's Landing again, to attend it.