Daenerys woke up with the sun shining directly in her face.
For a moment of panic, she didn't know where she was. The room was strange, the bed different, the sounds outside unfamiliar.
Then he remembered everything.
He had escaped.
I was in Astoria.
He was free.
She sat on the bed, hugging her knees, processing the enormity of what she had done.
She had abandoned Viserys . She had fled Illyrio . She had rejected a marriage that was supposed to restore her house.
And I felt no guilt.
I felt relief.
A soft knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts.
—Daenerys ? Are you awake?
It was Marcos' voice.
—Yes, come in .
The door opened and Marcos entered carrying a tray.
"Good morning. I brought you breakfast. I didn't know what you liked, so I brought a little bit of everything." She placed the tray on the table: bread, cheese, fruit, something that looked like scrambled eggs, and a pitcher of tea. "Did you sleep well?"
"Surprisingly, yes." Daenerys stood up and approached the table. "This is... a lot. Thank you."
"You're welcome." Marcos leaned against the wall, keeping a respectful distance. " Listen , I need to tell you something. News of your disappearance has already spread. Illyrio is offering a reward for information. Viserys is furious. And Khal Drogo... well, I don't know how he reacted yet, but he's probably not happy."
Daenerys felt a knot in her stomach.
—How long before they come here?
"That's the question." Marcos crossed his arms. " Illyrio probably doesn't know where you are yet. But it's just a matter of time. He has spies, informants. Eventually, he'll connect the dots."
—So I came here for nothing. I just postponed the inevitable.
"No." Marcos looked at her seriously. "You came here for a chance. And I'm going to protect that chance. But I need you to understand something: when they come, it's not going to be diplomatic. It's going to be violent. And you're going to be at the center of it all."
Daenerys looked at him.
—Do you regret bringing me here?
" What? No. Not at all." Marcos shook his head emphatically. "I just want you to know what you've gotten yourself into. Well, what I got you into." He paused. "If you ever want to come back..."
"I don't want to go back." The answer was immediate and firm. "I'd rather die free than live as property."
Marcos smiled.
—Good. Because I have plans to make sure we don't die. None of us.
— What kind of plans?
"The kind of thing where you build defenses that would make the Romans green with envy." Marcos straightened up. "But first, I need you to familiarize yourself with Astoria. Get to know the people, the place. And if you want , you can help with whatever interests you. There are no obligations, but I also don't expect you to be locked up in this room."
— Can I help with... anything?
—Anything. Administration, construction, agriculture, medicine, you name it. Here, everyone works because they want to, not because we force them.
It was such a strange concept for Daenerys that it took her a moment to process it.
—And nobody complains?
"Some people complain. There's always someone complaining. But it's different when it's your place, your community." Marcos walked toward the door. "Take your time. When you're ready, come downstairs and I'll formally introduce you to everyone."
When Marcos left, Daenerys ate slowly, savoring every bite.
The food was simple but good. Better than what Illyrio gave her, which was always too elaborate, as if he were trying to impress her.
This was honest.
Like everything else in this place.
An hour later, Daenerys went down to the main floor of the building.
There were people working: writing on parchment, discussing maps, moving boxes of supplies.
Everyone stopped when they saw her.
They looked at her silver hair, her violet eyes.
And then, one by one, they nodded respectfully and went back to their tasks.
No one knelt. No one called her "princess." They simply... accepted her.
" Daenerys , come here ." Marcos beckoned from a large table covered with maps. "I want to introduce you to the key people."
There were four people around the table.
"This is Garrett, captain of the guard." A burly man with a scar on his cheek nodded. "Elia, director of the Medical Institute." An older woman with gray hair smiled warmly. " Lysor , representative of the farmers." A middle-aged man with calloused hands bowed awkwardly. "And this is Mira, who's in charge of resource management." A young woman with freckles waved to her.
"It's an honor to meet you, Lady Targaryen ," Garrett said.
"Just Daenerys , please." The formality made her uncomfortable. "I'm not... I don't have any title here."
" You're a refugee under our protection," Marcos said simply. "That gives you the same rights as any other citizen of Astoria. No more, no less."
Daenerys felt something warm in her chest.
Equality.
I had never experienced that before.
—Now, to today's topic. —Marcos pointed to the map—. Garrett, what do we have in terms of defense?
"Ten trained guards. Twenty civilians learning basic combat. Solid walls, but only one layer. Five watchtowers." Garrett paused. "If a large force comes, we're going to have problems."
— How big?
Fifty trained soldiers might be a problem. One hundred would be a disaster. And if a Dothraki Khalasar comes ...
"We're history," Marcos finished. "Yes, I know. That's why we need to improve our defenses. Today."
" How?" Mira asked . "Building additional walls takes time. Training soldiers does too."
Marcos smiled.
—Not if you have magic and infinite resources.
Everyone looked at him.
"Chief, are you going to do that weird thing where blocks appear out of nowhere again?" Garrett asked.
—Exactly that. But on a larger scale.
During the next six hours, Daenerys witnessed something she would never forget for the rest of her life.
He saw Marcos Vidal build defenses that defied all logic.
First, he built a second wall. But not just any wall: he built a double wall with space between the two layers, and filled that space with compacted stone. The result was a three-meter-thick structure that would be virtually impossible to demolish.
Then he added additional towers. Not five. Ten. Strategically placed to provide a complete line of sight around the perimeter.
Then came what Marcos called "defensive innovations":
He created battlements specifically designed for archers, with perfect spaces for shooting while maintaining cover.He installed double reinforced iron doors which, he explained, could withstand battering rams.He built a dry ditch around the wall (there wasn't enough water for a wet one, but a three-meter-deep ditch still stopped horses).And most impressively: he created automatic defense systems using " Redstone ".
"This is like Home Alone traps , but for medieval warfare," Marcos explained as he installed mechanisms that would automatically fire arrows if someone crossed certain points on the perimeter.
" Home what?" Garrett asked.
—Nothing, it's a reference to my homeland. The point is: these defenses are going to multiply our defensive capacity tenfold.
Daenerys watched everything with fascination.
It wasn't just the magic itself (although that was impressive), but the way Marcos worked. He was methodical, thought through every detail, and explained his decisions to anyone who asked.
He was not a tyrant building a fortress for his ego.
He was an architect building a home for his people.
" Can you always do this?" Daenerys asked when Marcos took a break, panting from the mental effort.
"Technically, yes. Practically, it's exhausting." He wiped the sweat from his brow. "Creating large structures consumes massive mental energy. It's like... running a marathon with your brain."
—And you do it anyway?
"Because it's worth it." Marcos looked at the wall he had just finished. "Every stone I lay is a life I potentially save. Every defense I build is a family that can sleep safely." He looked at her. "Including you."
Daenerys felt that warmth in her chest again.
No one had ever worked like that for her.
Viserys had only used it.
Illyrio had sold it.
But this stranger, this man who barely knew her, was literally moving mountains to protect her.
—Thank you —she said softly.
Marcos smiled.
—You're welcome. Now, would you like to help with something more fun?
- That?
—We're going to create a system of warning signals. Basically, special torches that can be lit from the towers to communicate danger. I need someone to help me decide which signals mean what.
- I?
—You. You're intelligent, you have strategic perspective (you survived years with Viserys , that requires strategy), and I need a second opinion.
Daenerys blinked.
No one had ever asked for his opinion on anything tactical.
— Okay . Yes. I want to help.
And so, the last Targaryen spent her first afternoon in Astoria designing defense systems alongside a reincarnated Argentinian with godlike powers.
It was surreal.
It was strange.
It was perfect.
That night:
Astoria held its first official community meeting in the central building.
Everyone was there: guards, farmers, artisans, families. Approximately fifty people in total.
Marcos was in front, with Daenerys standing beside him (she had tried to stay back, but he insisted that she was part of this too).
" Okay , everyone, listen up." Marcos raised his voice. "As some of you know, we have a new resident. Daenerys." Targaryen . Yes, THAT Targaryen . And before anyone asks: no, she's not going to claim any throne. Yes, people are coming for her. And yes, we're going to defend her.
There were murmurs.
" Why?" someone asked . "Why risk Astoria for a stranger?"
Marcos looked directly at the person who asked the question.
"Because it's the right thing to do." Her voice was firm. "She's a child who was being sold like merchandise. I offered her refuge. She accepted. And now she's one of us." She paused. "Astoria isn't just a settlement. It's a promise: that the people here have value because they are people, not because of their usefulness or their blood. If we start handing people over because it's 'easier,' then all of this"—she gestured around—"is a lie."
The silence was absolute.
Then Lysor , the farmer, stood up.
"I came here because I was given a chance when no one else would. If we now refuse to give that same chance to others... then we are no different from Pentos ." He looked at Daenerys . "Lady Targaryen , it is an honor to have you here."
Others nodded.
One by one, people began to express their support.
Not everyone. Some still had doubts. But most agreed.
Marcos was right: Astoria was more than a place. It was an idea.
And the ideas were worth defending.
When the meeting ended, Daenerys stood there, overwhelmed.
" Is it always like this?" he asked Marcos.
- What thing?
—This. The way people... listen to you. Follow you.
Marcos laughed.
"Believe me, not always. Sometimes they ignore me. Sometimes they argue with me." He shrugged. "But that's the point. I don't want blind subjects. I want people who think, who question, who participate. Empires built on fear die quickly. Those built on conviction last."
Daenerys nodded slowly.
Everything he was learning here contradicted what Viserys had taught him about ruling.
And I was beginning to think that Viserys was completely wrong about everything.
Daenerys ' escape :
The rider arrived in Astoria at noon.
He was a young, thin man, wearing dusty travel clothes. And he was nervous.
Garrett stopped him at the gates.
— Who are you and what do you want ?
—I come with a message from Magister Illyrio Mopatis of Pentos . —The messenger produced a sealed parchment—. To the ruler of... Astoria?
— Wait here.
Garrett brought the parchment to Marcos.
—Chief, we have a message from Illyrio .
Marcos broke the seal and read.
Her expression went from neutral to amused to downright sarcastic.
"I can't believe this," he murmured.
—What are you saying?
"Read it yourself." He handed the parchment to Garrett.
Garrett read aloud to everyone present ( including Daenerys ):
"To the ruler of Astoria,
It has come to my attention that Princess Daenerys Targaryen has been spotted in your territory. As her legal guardian, I demand her immediate return.
If she is returned unharmed, I will forget this... situation. If she refuses, it will be considered the kidnapping of a noblewoman under my protection, and I will respond accordingly.
You have two days to respond.
—Magister Illyrio Mopatis "
There was silence.
Then Marcos started laughing.
—Is this guy serious? "Legal guardian"? "Protection"? Was he SELLING her?
" What are you going to answer?" Garrett asked.
Marcos grabbed a pen and parchment.
He wrote quickly and handed the letter to the messenger.
— Take this to your teacher. And tell him that if he sends more threats, the next response will be less diplomatic.
The messenger sped off.
Garrett took the parchment that Marcos had written:
" Illyrio ,
Daenerys Targaryen is under Astoria's sovereign protection by her own choice. She is not a prisoner. She is a refugee.
You have no rights over her. You never did. You were using her as merchandise.
If you want it back, you're going to have to come and get it. In person.
Good luck with that.
—Marcos VidalFounder of AstoriaP.S. If you send assassins, they won't work. If you send armies, they'll lose. If you send the Dothraki... well, then things get interesting.
Garrett whistled.
—Chief, you have just declared war on one of the richest magistrates in Pentos .
"Technically, he declared war on me. I just responded." Marcos smiled. "Besides, what's he going to do? Cry with his magistrate friends ?"
—Send mercenaries. Armies. —Garrett looked at him seriously—. This is no joke, Marcos.
"I know." Marcos's smile faded. "That's why we're finishing the defenses tomorrow. And we're starting intensive military training the day after."
Daenerys , who had heard everything, approached.
—This is my fault.
"No." Marcos looked at her. "This is because of guys like Illyrio who think people are property. You just made the right decision. The consequences are my problem."
"Ours," Garrett corrected. "We are Astoria. All of us together."
Marcos nodded.
"Our problem then." He glanced at the defenses he had built. "And we're going to solve it. Together."
That night, Marcos didn't sleep much.
He was in his office, planning.
I knew they were coming.
Illyrio wasn't going to take no for an answer. He had a reputation to uphold. And worse, he had a furious Dothraki Khal who probably wanted blood.
Marcos needed to be ready.
For war.
For siege.
Whatever it was that came.
He looked out the window at Astoria sleeping.
Fifty people trusted him.
Fifty lives that depended on their decisions.
And a dragon princess who had taken the biggest leap of faith of her life.
"I won't let you down," he promised quietly. "Whatever comes, we'll face it."
In Pentos , Illyrio received Marcos's reply.
He read it three times.
And then, with trembling hands, she began to write letters.
To Varys .
To mercenary captains.
And most importantly: Khal Drogo.
This wasn't going to end well.
For someone.
[END OF CHAPTER 9]