Vlad continued explaining as his finger slid southward, toward the Citadel and Oldtown.
—After securing Highgarden, we'll land fifteen thousand men in Oldtown. While Daenerys and I fly with the dragons, we will destroy the seat of the Faith after exposing their conspiracy against the Targaryen's. In doing so, we'll take control of the Citadel, securing the center of knowledge on this continent.
He then moved another ivory piece.
—Once our base is established, forty thousand more men will set sail from Meereen with golden dragons, supplies, and artillery. The Dothraki cavalry will control the roads; the Black Fleet, the seas. Then, Daenerys and I will personally visit the western houses to ensure their loyalty.
—Will those houses swear fealty to Your Grace? —asked Missandei.
—Or they will burn —Vlad concluded, curtly. The Westerlands were only valuable for their mines. He could eliminate all noble families and place loyal ones in their castles.
—This must be done within a year and a half from the next moon, gentlemen —Vlad declared.
The council members looked at one another, surprised.
—My lord, that is very little time —observed Daario Naharis.
—I know. But everyone here knows the truth behind this war. Believe it or not, you all understand that we must unify Westeros quickly, while conserving our strength.
His inner circle had already been told the true threat: beyond the Wall, the White Walkers and their wights were advancing, recruiting warriors that felt no pain nor fatigue.
It should be said that skepticism varied among them, but those who had served Vlad long enough had witnessed his magic and his power. They understood that, if the threat was as deadly as he claimed, Westeros had to unite, or it would fall… and Essos would follow.
Vlad let his words settle before continuing.
—That's all for now, gentlemen. The rest we will plan in the field; we know plans never survive first contact with the enemy. We will not waste effort on strategies too far ahead.
One by one, the attendees began to leave. Some in silence, others whispering to each other, but none dared question what they'd heard. Vlad remained by the map, unmoving, eyes fixed on the pieces as if he could still see the war playing out in his mind.
Daenerys approached once everyone had gone. She walked without hurry, crossing her arms while watching him with one eyebrow slightly raised.
—Is something bothering you?
Vlad let out a faint sigh, barely audible. He took a moment to respond, and when he did, his voice was lower than usual.
—I take no pleasure in bloodshed… It's not what I want, nor what should be necessary. But there's no alternative. This goes beyond a throne, Dany. You know that if it were up to me, I'd spend eternity with you in some distant castle. —A warm smile lit his face.
She didn't reply right away. Instead, she stepped closer and placed a hand over his chest, right above his heart, which no longer beat… just like hers.
—You're not alone in this anymore —she said simply—. We'll do it together, no matter what comes.
Vlad looked at her, serious, for a moment more, then his expression softened. He leaned in and kissed her, gently at first, then with more intensity, as if the moment itself gave him breath. Daenerys kissed him back the same way, her hand at the back of his neck, not letting go.
No more words were needed. With just a look and a knowing smile, they left the room quickly and disappeared into the tower's corridors. To spend a warm night together.
As always, the days passed swiftly. Vlad spent his time planning until the moment came to leave for Braavos on Drakul's back, now the size of a blue whale, large enough to swallow a grown man whole.
The flight from Meereen was surprisingly quick, even by Vlad's standards. Drakul flew as if trying to impress him, gliding through the air currents with precision, using every draft to gain speed.
Vlad rarely felt stress, but coordinating a war effort was one of those exceptions. Yet up there in the sky, he felt weightless, free. Drakul twisted through the air as if showing off, as if saying "Look at me, father." His metallic armor clinked with every move, and the leather saddle was the only thing anchoring Vlad to the beast's back.
As for the dragons, Vlad knew the ritual had connected them all in a special way. It was a kind of empathic bond: he and Daenerys could feel what the dragons felt, and vice versa. His magic had also made them grow faster, stronger, and smarter than any dragon that had ever existed, even before Valyria. Slowly, they had even begun to speak. Simple, short phrases —but clear. Anyone who heard them would understand what they meant.
When Braavos emerged on the horizon, Vlad merely watched it in silence. The city was a gray and damp sprawl, crossed by canals and shrouded in mist. The Titan of Braavos stood in the bay, but it paled before Drakul's shadow looming over the rooftops.
The dragon did not go unnoticed. His roar echoed between the towers, unleashing chaos. The Braavosi were brave, but no courage could withstand such a creature.
Had it been Daenerys arriving, they would have welcomed her with reverence; all of Essos knew and respected the benevolent Mother of Dragons.
Her husband was another story.
As soon as it became clear that the dragon rider was a man, the city fell into panic. Bells rang, sailors rushed to secure their ships, people pointed at the sky, screaming. A stampede of citizens tried to flee as far as they could from "The Lord Impaler."
Vlad's reputation had already become legend in the Free Cities, a sort of modern boogeyman. Merely mentioning his name was enough to make men, women, and children shiver.
Upon seeing the chaos, Vlad could only smirk. That was precisely his goal: to be the demon under the beds of those who defied order, the only way to prepare the world for the Long Night.