[Mereen]

The candle flickered low. Less than an inch of wax remained, casting a dim glow over the queen's bed. The flame danced erratically, a sign it wouldn't last much longer. Dany felt the weight of the moment. Another night was slipping away, and morning always came too quickly. She hadn't slept. She couldn't sleep. The thought of closing her eyes terrified her; she feared waking up to daylight.

If she had the ability, she would stretch the night into eternity. But all she could do was stay awake, trying to savor the last moments before dawn turned them into mere memories. Each passing minute felt like grains of sand slipping through her fingers, fleeting and irretrievable. The stillness of the night offered her a rare moment of reflection, a time to ponder not just her own ambitions but also the fate of her family's legacy that hung precariously in the balance.

The stillness of the room was deceptive. Outside, the city stirred. The people of Meereen were waking, their lives moving forward without her. They had their struggles, their dreams. Dany wanted to give them hope, but she feared her own power. She recalled her brother, Viserys, and his relentless hunger for the throne. Had he sought the crown for the realm or for himself? That fear gripped her. She could become him. The thought of losing her way was more terrifying than any enemy.

She pictured the Iron Throne. A seat of power drenched in blood. It represented both the pinnacle of her ambition and the potential for her downfall.

What if she became a footnote in history, remembered for her failures rather than her triumphs? That fear gripped her. It was a constant battle against her insecurities.

Dany rose from her bed, pacing the small room. She needed clarity. She had made choices, some right, some wrong. But every choice had led her here. She thought of her advisors, the ones she had trusted. Some had already betrayed her. Would Grey Worm remain loyal? Would Tyrion stand by her side when the tide turned? She needed allies, not just followers. She needed friends who believed in her vision, not just her power.

Then there was the looming presence of the Harpy. The cult that threatened her reign was more than just a group of assassins. They represented the unrest in the city. Dany felt their eyes on her, waiting for her to falter. Every corner turned could lead to betrayal. She had to act. But how? The weight of her decisions pressed heavily on her shoulders.

Then came the revelation. She learned she wasn't the last Targaryen after all. Across the Narrow Sea, a niece awaited her—Alysanne, the daughter of her brother Rhaegar. Likely named for the Good Queen who had once brought hope and prosperity to their house.

Both women shared the same blood, yet they were strangers. Each has grown up in a different world, shaped by different experiences.

Daenerys had spent years alone, believing she bore the weight of her family's legacy on her own.

Quentyn Martell, Alysanne's cousin and Daenerys' distant relative, had arrived with a proposal. An alliance was necessary. Both women aimed to reclaim the Iron Throne, to restore their family's legacy. Alone, they stood no chance.

There was more. Alysanne also had dragons—three of them, growing quickly. Just like Dany. The stakes were high, and time was short. The night may be fading, but hope flickered like the candle's flame.

What would an alliance between them even look like?

Both wanted the Throne, yet only one could sit it.

That was how it worked.

The ruler, typically a king, sat the Iron Throne, while his wife, the Queen Consort, offered him counsel when necessary.

This traditional structure weighed heavily on Dany's mind as she contemplated what it would mean to share power with another Targaryen.

The last woman who attempted to sit on that fabled seat was their ancestor, Rhaenyra Targaryen—a woman whose ambition had ignited a civil war that tore apart their family and ravaged the realm. Rhaenyra was set to be the first Queen, having been named heir by her father, King Viserys I. But Rhaenyra was betrayed—usurped by her half-brother Aegon II—who later killed her in a brutal act of treachery that sent shockwaves through history.

Rhaenyra would have been the first queen to rule in her own right—and hopefully not the last—but history had shown its ugly face once again.

The misogyny ingrained in Westerosi culture ignited a war simply because she was a woman—an injustice that Daenerys could not ignore or accept lightly.

Daenerys wanted to prove that women were just as capable as men—that they could wield power with grace and strength rather than succumb to societal expectations that relegated them to mere ornaments beside their husbands.

Daenerys had seen firsthand how men dismissed women. They labeled them as weak, unworthy of the throne, or as rulers in their own right. She could not allow herself to be another casualty in this ongoing battle for recognition. She needed to prove herself—not just to the realm, but to herself.

The blood of the dragon had always been both a gift and a curse. Each Targaryen had faced their demons. Dany had her own. Alysanne might not be the same. Would they bond over their shared history or be driven apart by ambition?

The problem was complex. They needed to establish terms. They should meet, discuss their options. But how could they agree on anything if both wanted the same throne? Dany had her vision of a just rule, one where women stood strong. Alysanne might have her own ideas. Could they create a shared vision? Or would the Iron Throne become a point of contention?

She thought of the dragonfire that dwelled inside of her. She had fought for her right to rule. She had endured loss and hardship. Mereen was a city she had liberated, a testament to her strength. Yet, as she considered the potential alliance, she imagined Alysanne's face. A young woman, filled with dreams of a restored Targaryen dynasty. Daenerys felt a flicker of hope. Together, they could be stronger. They could challenge the usurpers. But could she truly bring herself to share her power?

The Dance of the Dragons had devastated the realm once before—an internal conflict that pitted Targaryen against Targaryen in an unforgiving struggle for supremacy. History had shown that such rivalries often led to ruin rather than glory.

She feared the same fate awaited her and Alysanne. This was not just a matter of reclaiming the throne. It was about legacy, survival, and the future of their bloodline.

Westeros would revel in watching Targaryen fight Targaryen; it would be entertainment for those who thrived on chaos and division. While they did not wish for another Dance of the Dragons—or its ensuing destruction—they understood that many would welcome the end of the Targaryen line entirely; it would mean no one left to bond with dragons or use them in battle or secure their rule through fearsome might.

Dany envisioned a different approach. Instead of fighting each other, they could unite their forces. Use their dragons to intimidate the enemies. Forge an alliance based on mutual respect rather than rivalry.

What if sharing power didn't have to mean losing it? What if her strength complemented another's?

The more she pondered, the clearer it became. She needed to gather her thoughts, to deliberate on the qualities she sought in a partner. Strength? Yes. Loyalty? Absolutely. But there was also wisdom. The ability to listen, to understand the complexities of ruling. Dany had always been a fighter, but she knew the importance of strategy. She needed someone who could balance her fire with calm.

She could not let her desire for power blind her to the lessons of history. Instead, she needed to forge a new path. One where women stood together rather than tore each other apart.

As the candle burned down, Dany thought of the Targaryen legacy. Fire and blood. The words echoed in her mind. She had fought for her right to rule, but how much blood would be spilled in the process? Dany felt the weight of her ancestors pressing down on her. She could not let history repeat itself. The realm had suffered enough. Could she break the cycle?

Alysanne was a Targaryen. Just like her. They shared blood, history, and a legacy. Perhaps an alliance could mean something different. A chance to show Westeros that Targaryens could unite. To prove that they were more than the sum of their conflicts. She envisioned a future where they fought together. Where they reclaimed what was theirs, side by side.

Alliances in Westeros often came with hidden agendas. Dany couldn't afford to be naive. She needed to know where everyone stood. The fate of her family depended on it.

Dany considered the lords of Westeros. They thrived on betrayal. They would see a Targaryen alliance as a threat. Would they work together, or would they play into the hands of their enemies?

Dany pushed aside her doubts. She needed to meet Alysanne. Face to face. They needed to discuss the future. An alliance could be powerful, but it had to be built on honesty. They could combine their strength, but it would require trust.

As the candle burned down further still, Dany thought deeply about what it meant to carry forth the Targaryen legacy—fire and blood—their ancestral motto echoing ominously in her mind like an ancient curse. She had fought fiercely for her right to rule but at what cost? How much blood would be spilled in pursuit of power? Dany felt an overwhelming weight pressing down upon her from generations past—a burden borne by those who came before her who had made choices steeped in desperation or ambition—and she knew she could not allow history to repeat itself through reckless ambition or betrayal.

As dawn approached, Dany wrestled with the decision. The night was fading, but her resolve had to harden. She had to approach Alysanne with caution but also with an open heart. The world may see them as rivals, but they could become a force that even the most cynical lords couldn't ignore. They could rewrite their story. "A Targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing," she reminded herself. But maybe, just maybe, together they could reshape what it meant to be a Targaryen.