Daenerys stared at him—still, quiet. His words echoed in her chest.
"Is your brother....the only last dragon?"
She took a slow step forward, lips parting.
"What do you mean by—?"
But her question halted halfway as Caesar raised his hand, gently.
"You'll find yourself," he said.
The words were calm. But his face—it changed.
Daenerys saw it.
Just a second ago, there had been warmth. A spark. Maybe even belief.
Now?
His gaze dropped to the cobblestones. Brow creased.
Something flickered behind his eyes.
A sadness. Quiet. Personal.
Like he was watching something die.
He was.
------------------------------------------------
[SYSTEM MESSAGE — INTERNAL HUD]
Unit count: 1,589
→ 1,588
→ 1,586
→ 1,582
------------------------------------------------
The number ticked down—men lost, one by one.
It reminded him of Maidenpool. Of the fire. Of the smoke.
But this time, there was no battlefield.
No warning.
Just silence.
He didn't know where it was happening. Maybe the spies in Westeros. Maybe something else.
But he had a feeling.
He glanced subtly toward Tanaka, who caught the look instantly.
No words were exchanged.
Just a nod.
Caesar turned to Daenerys with care in his voice.
"I must leave you, just for a while."
She took a step after him. "Wait—did I…"
She stopped herself. But her eyes asked the rest.
Did I say something wrong? Did I cause this?
But Caesar was already gone, his cloak catching the light as he moved.
Two figures fell in behind him—Templars, dressed plainly, but their steps were practiced, precise.
By the time he rounded the corner, a third joined him.
Kartiga.
Back straight. Expression unreadable.
...
Daenerys stood still.
The air felt colder now.
She turned, unsure, until she saw Tanaka take Caesar's place at her side. Silent as always.
She looked at him for a long moment.
Then, softly: "Did I do something wrong?"
Tanaka didn't answer at first.
His eyes scanned the crowd.
She tried again, voice lower. "Is he angry? Did I say something I shouldn't have?"
A pause.
Tanaka finally spoke.
One sentence.
"My lord isn't mad."
Nothing more.
But Daenerys held onto the words as if they were right.
She turned back to the street.
The masks were still on sale. The sea breeze still touched her braid.
But she walked slower now.
More careful.
And behind her, Tanaka followed—still silent. Still watching.
---------------------------------------
STONE CELLAR – RIVERRUN – NIGHT
The walls were damp. Lit by torchlight.
Chains clinked softly in the darkness. The air stank of blood, rot, and wet stone.
A man hung suspended—arms stretched above his head, bound tight with iron chain. His feet barely touched the ground. His body trembled with every breath.
He had been here for days.
Nails torn.
Ribs bruised and cracked.
Burns traced across his arms.
A deep slice through his thigh, left to rot open.
One eye swollen shut.
Teeth missing.
Skin lashed to pink and bleeding.
Every method had been used.
Whipped. Beaten. Pried at with iron hooks. Burned with coals. Starved. Deprived of sleep.
And still—
He said nothing.
Only silence.
His head hung low, barely conscious.
He was the last of them. Four others alongside him had died before capture, taking their poison before enemy hands could touch them.
But he had failed.
The soldiers had moved too fast. He had been caught with the pill still tucked in his cheek. They'd ripped it out before it dissolved.
And now, here he was.
Not broken.
Just… waiting.
The door creaked open.
Two soldiers entered—dragging another body behind them. Another spy, beaten nearly to death, blood across his chest and hands bound.
He hadn't spoken either.
But this one was different.
Following close behind came a figure with silver hair at his temple, eyes sharp beneath a weathered brow.
Ser Brynden Tully. The Blackfish.
He stepped into the room, staring at both captives.
"Well," he said to the soldiers. "They keep dying before we learn anything. This one at least breathes."
The soldiers stopped dragging. The man barely stirred.
The Blackfish looked at the one still hanging.
"He's the same?"
"Aye, ser," said one soldier. "Won't talk. Not a word. Bites his own tongue when we try."
"Persistent," the Blackfish muttered.
He stepped forward, arms behind his back. He studied the man's face—cut, bruised, half-swollen—but his one good eye was open.
Alive.
Watching.
"What I don't understand," the Blackfish said, "is how you got in. Through walls. Past guards. Into my castle."
No answer.
He tilted his head.
"Tell me who sent you, and I'll free you. Gold, if you want it. A ship. You'll live to see another dawn."
Still, the man didn't speak.
One of the soldiers scoffed. "He's a ghost, this one. Doesn't even scream."
The Blackfish turned, gave a brief nod.
The soldiers stepped forward. Unlatched the chains. The spy collapsed to the floor like a broken puppet.
He didn't cry out.
Didn't even groan.
The Blackfish walked over, pulled a chair, and sat.
"Bring him," he ordered.
They dragged the man across the stone floor, leaving a trail of blood and filth. He barely twitched.
They stopped at the Blackfish's feet.
Brynden reached into a pouch, tossed a handful of gold coins onto the floor.
"They're yours," he said. "All you have to do is speak."
Finally… the spy raised his head. Just a little.
His lips were dry, cracked.
But he said what he had said every time—words the maesters could not decipher, and the guards had grown to hate.
"Ninmu… kanryō.(Mission is.....complete)"
The Blackfish frowned.
"What is that?"
"He says it every time," one soldier muttered. "Same tone. Same breath."
Then—
Motion.
Sudden.
The spy lurched up, faster than any man half-dead should move. His hands—still bound—wrapped around the Blackfish's neck.
And his teeth—
Bit deep into Brynden Tully's throat.
Deep. Tearing.
The Blackfish cried out, blood spraying down his front.
"GET HIM OFF!"
Steel rang out.
One of the guards didn't hesitate—he swung clean.
Steel met neck.
The spy's head toppled to the floor, mouth still frozen in that locked jaw of madness.
The body fell next.
The Blackfish staggered, clutching his neck. Not fatal—but close. Too close.
He coughed blood into his palm.
And stared at the corpse with a strange look.
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