Gojo awakened with Daenerys curled beside him, her silver hair spilled across his chest like moonlight spun into silk.

  She was lovely in the morning light—barely stirring, her breath warm against his skin, one arm wrapped lazily across his waist. For a moment, he didn’t move. Just watched her. Listened to her soft breathing. Let himself feel the peace in the silence.

  But his decision had already been made.

  Joffrey Baratheon would die. And with him, every accomplice who had raised a hand to Ned Stark.

  Gojo brushed a hand through Daenerys’s hair, then leaned down and kissed her awake. Her violet eyes fluttered open, and she smiled at him sleepily.

  “Morning,” she whispered.

  “Today’s a big day,” Gojo murmured. “Time to make an announcement.”

  She nodded, and nestled closer to his chest for one last moment before rising.

  By the time they were dressed, Daemon was already outside Gojo’s chamber—waiting in silence, eyes sharp and expectant.

  Of course he is, Gojo thought with a smirk. The man moves like a shadow with a crown.

  The entire tree-town gathered soon after. At the heart of Tokyo stood the Great Grove—a natural amphitheater formed by colossal, interconnected trees. Bridges and branches spiraled upward, allowing the Children of the Forest to look down from above, their luminous eyes blinking curiously at the gathering.

  Gojo stepped forward, Daenerys seated gracefully on his lap, her hand resting against his chest. Snowylocks gripped his left hand tightly, her white eyes unreadable. Ash, whose skin shimmered like embers beneath her cloak, held his right. Behind him stood Daemon—tall, proud, and battle-scarred, his hands clasped behind his back.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  A hush fell.

  “I have made a decision,” Gojo said, voice carrying effortlessly through the grove. “The death of Ned Stark cannot go unanswered. The boy king, Joffrey Baratheon, and those who enabled his crime must be removed.”

  Murmurs swept through the crowd, like wind through branches.

  “I am going south,” Gojo continued, “to claim the Iron Throne. The old world of cruelty, of war for the sake of pride, will end.”

  The Children of the Forest began to stir. One, one of them wrapped in moss and ancient leaves, stepped forward.

  “You were not meant to rule men, Gojo,” she said gently. “You were meant to guard balance. Stay. The world will always have kings. Let their blood spill without you.”

  Gojo stood, his wives flanking him, Daenerys’ eyes steady on his.

  “I am balance,” he said. “And I will return here, to this place. Tokyo is not just a sanctuary anymore—it is the future capital of the Eight Kingdoms. A place where magic, fire, and peace can coexist.”

  More gasps. More murmurs. Even Daemon’s gaze flicked to Gojo in visible surprise.

  But Gojo wasn’t finished.

  “I will begin by removing the blight that poisons the very heart of this world—the Wintermoon.”

  Silence.

  Not even the birds dared to sing.

  He stepped away from the grove, rising slowly into the air. Leaves trembled around him as his cursed energy flared—a soft, radiant pulse that warped the air like heat above a flame.

  Gojo looked skyward, his hand raised toward the silver orb that hovered always over the Lands of Always Winter.

  His Domain Expansion opened.

  It was no longer just a field of overwhelming information—it was a perfect sphere of balance and conversion, of limitless power and control. The sky darkened for a moment. A ring of blue flared behind him. The clouds twisted, then scattered.

  And then… the Wintermoon moved.

  The false, cursed satellite that had loomed for millennia above the north was pulled, slowly, deliberately, until it passed behind the natural moon. For the first time in remembered history, the Lands of Always Winter knew shadow.

  And then… warmth.

  The blizzards died.

  The trees in the far north began to thaw.

  Flowers long buried beneath frost stirred in the earth.

  Gojo hovered in the air, glowing like a new god, as his voice echoed across the land:

  “This is just the beginning.”

  Below, Daenerys watched with tears in her eyes and a quiet awe blooming in her chest. Daemon stared upward, jaw tight, eyes like twin coals. "the prince that was promised" Daemon murmurs.