Breaker, Broken | Jorah Mormont

Chapter 11

Ruling a city was no easy feat.

She felt she understood why her sister was always so frustrated. Trying to handle the situation in Meereen was hard enough without also having to worry about Astapor and Yunkai. Taking power and money here, giving power and money there, listening to everyone to make sure she wasn't forgetting something important.

People loved to talk when they were miserable and she had too much to learn from them.

"There is always something happening out there," said Saera tiredly, sitting behind Missandei to braid her hair now that Daenerys wasn't here to do it. "Today, someone stole a blanket from another at the shelter. A blanket! I thought it would be simplest to have them give the blanket back then give one of their own so this would not be necessary, but thievery cannot go fully unpunished, so I had to decide that the thief serve the wronged person for three days, in any way they needed."

She tucked a gold band around the first braid. "Then, one of the children clung to my leg the entire time I walked from one trade center to another, insisting he had no friends and wanted my company. The sweet thing... he told me he dreamt about a cream-colored dragon. Viserion. He wants to fly on him."

Missandei smiled. "The people of Meereen like you, Princess. They are glad to see you more often. You listen to them as your sister did."

"And yet they say she is a master, too," mumbled Saera. "How long until they say the same about me?" She sighed, knowing Missandei would not dare speak ill of Daenerys the way others might be willing to, "Do not answer that, I know it won't happen... they will not see her as a master much longer. That is my hope."

But what if they do?

She'd received another letter from Ellaria telling her about what was happening in Westeros. Stannis Baratheon was dead after failing to take Winterfell from the Boltons. Most of his men abandoned him after he and his Red Priestess, a woman named Melisandre, burned his daughter at the stake to make it through the Northern snow.

A man called the High Sparrow had practically brainwashed young King Tommen and had, for a time, imprisoned Queens Cersei and Margaery as well as Margaery's brother Loras. Saera was sure that now– unlike ever before– those immediately affected by this religious swarm wished that Joffrey were still King. He never would have allowed this.

Queen Cersei was a wreck, not only because a religious group now controlled the city so soon after she lost her son (a horrible brat of a boy born to what was now a vicious manipulative bitch, yet still a son snatched away from a mother), but because her daughter Myrcella had been poisoned and killed by Ellaria and the Sand Snakes.

They'd taken over Dorne, killing the 'useless' Prince Doran and seizing power with the intention of getting revenge on the Lannisters. Saera had written back updating her on the situation to let her know she temporarily sat the throne in her sister's name, to which Ellaria had responded a week later with congratulations and pledging Dorne to their service when they were ready to come to Westeros.

She wished Ellaria hadn't hurt Myrcella. There was no telling what the Lannisters might do as soon as they had breathing room. They could only wait and see and hope that they were ready to respond when the time came.

A son for a son was called for in the past. I hope Cersei will not take one of Ellaria's daughters.

After a month of no Daenerys, Saera started visiting the dragons. She made the executive decision to release both Viserion and Rhaegal, having enlisted Missandei's help in speaking to Rhaegal (who at the very least was calm when Missandei was around) so that they would sleep in the catacombs at night but fly during the day without harming anyone.