Several days after their conversation about Westeros, Vlad had finally finished gathering his blood essence. It was this essence that would transform Daenerys, like him, into a progenitor, his equal, his eternal bride.
In practice, there were different ways to create vampires. The majority involved giving the blood of the "sire" or creator to a human, either replacing all of their blood or just a part of it. Generally, the only difference this caused was shortening the transformation and awakening process. But Vlad, being a progenitor, could accelerate it naturally, so he usually used the first method—it was less cumbersome.
However, if he wanted Daenerys to be his equal, those methods were out of the question. Fortunately, he had total control over his abilities and an encyclopedic knowledge of his own nature, so he knew how to achieve it. No vampire in history had ever attempted such a thing. Being a progenitor meant occupying the pinnacle of the vampire hierarchy, and giving up that privilege was unthinkable. What immortal being would sacrifice their absolute dominion? Vlad, however, was no ordinary vampire. In this world, where his lineage was the only one that existed, there was no reason to fear another of his kind. Daenerys would be his wife, not a rival. Furthermore, it would take centuries before she mastered her abilities with the skill he possessed. After all, Vlad had been designed to be the epitome of his species.
A subterranean room in the Great Pyramid of Meereen had been prepared for the ceremony. To be honest, it didn't need such fanfare—it wasn't a ritual. Vlad could have simply given her his essence and laid her in a bed to wait.
But for both Daenerys and Vlad, this was something solemn. For her, it was like a second wedding, but unlike the first, it was a union for love, a bond that would bind her to Vlad in life for all eternity.
For Vlad, it was something similar, though more in tune with his vampiric nature. Marriages didn't mean much to a being who could live forever... but this—giving your blood essence, a crystallization of your heart and power, to the woman you've chosen to spend eternity with? That was a real, tangible commitment. And he would do it gladly.
The exterior of the room was guarded by his five blood riders, and the entire wall of Meereen was on high alert, reinforced by the best-trained freedmen and trusted soldiers of the Second Sons. Jorah Mormont and Ser Barristan were in the palace gardens with Missandei, waiting. Vlad had informed them that he would be performing an important ritual with Daenerys, which might last two days or more. He explained that there was nothing to fear, but warned that if anything—anything—dared to interrupt it, he would reduce all of Meereen to ashes.
No one believed his words were an exaggeration. Those under his command had come to know him, and they knew that Vlad never lied. If he made a promise, he kept it. That's why the Dothraki, the freedmen armies, the Second Sons, and the Unsullied were all on high alert. The four dragons circled above the pyramid at regular intervals, and the sentinels kept torches lit as an emergency signal. A total curfew had been declared. No one left after dark. Any suspicious person was arrested and executed without trial. No one knew exactly what was going on, but there were rumors among the people that someone had tried to attack the queen.
That simple rumor was enough to make any pickpocket, thief, assassin, and opponent hide like rats or flee the city. For this reason, all armed groups under his command were active: the Dothraki patrolled the alleys and outer areas of the city in small mounted groups; the freedmen maintained order in the markets and civilian districts; the Unsullied sealed the palace entrances; and the Second Sons controlled the main gates, ready to shut or evacuate as needed. Even some trusted spies infiltrated the population to prevent disturbances or identify saboteurs.
No one in Essos wanted to awaken the wrath of the Impaler. Not after what happened with Kraznys mo Nakloz, whose body still hung in Meereen's square, impaled on a cross forged by Vlad and kept conscious through blood magic, suffering endless torment.
While the city remained in an uproar, the subterranean room was warm and calm, even silent. Daenerys Stormborn, of House Targaryen, observed the room's decoration: banners of her house and Vlad's hung on the walls, excellently lit by oil lamps and candles, making the space feel welcoming rather than ominous.
In the center of the room, there was only a red velvet chaise longue where Daenerys could recline, and a table with a chalice made of carved quartz crystals.
—Are you ready, my love?—asked Vlad, gently caressing her face.
—Will it hurt?—asked Daenerys, uncertainty in her voice. Vlad had explained to her that to be reborn, she must first die.
—It will be like falling asleep—he replied, caressing her tenderly.
—And then I'll wake up again—she said, more as if trying to convince herself than as an affirmation.
—I'm sure of it. But if not, I will go to the gates of death and tear you from its claws. Nothing in this world will separate you from me, I swear—Vlad said solemnly, his eyes fixed on hers.
Daenerys closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath.
—I trust you.
Vlad smiled, a tender gesture reserved only for her. Then, with precision and calm, he sank the claws of one finger into his own chest, right above his heart. A drop of scarlet blood emerged and floated toward the chalice.
And then, the drop expanded. As if it contained an ocean, the blood grew, filling the cup to the brim, undulating and alive. Vlad held the vessel delicately and offered it to her.
—Everything I have been and everything I am is here—he pointed, looking at the blood in the cup. —And now, like my heart, it belongs to you.
Daenerys didn't know what to say; she simply looked at him with all the love she felt for him and drank in one gulp. To her surprise, the blood didn't taste bitter or unpleasant; it was like water, fluid and clean.
She placed the cup on the table and, without thinking, kissed Vlad. A soft kiss, so full of love that it was almost tender. He took her hand, helping her recline on the chaise longe, staying kneeling beside her, gently stroking her head.
Daenerys felt an overwhelming need to sleep, and before closing her eyes, she whispered softly:
—Forever.
She didn't need to say more. Vlad responded to the whisper, though there was no need for him to say the "I love you" they both knew was there.
—Forever—he replied, watching her fall asleep.