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Episode 2
Part 3 - Great plan
Bruce leaned his head back against the edge of the copper bath, feeling the hot water softly touch his skin but offering none of the usual relaxation. Everything was... wrong. He tried to close his eyes, hoping for just a few minutes of peace, to forget about the idiot “advisors,” their stupid rules, and that ridiculous “canon.” But his thoughts wouldn’t settle.
His hands slid mechanically down his body, and there it was again— that damn softness under his fingers. The chest. Bruce still couldn’t get used to the fact that it was part of him now. Every single movement reminded him of it, and it was driving him crazy. This wasn’t something he could just accept. What the hell was going on?
He opened his eyes and looked down. The skin was smooth, pale, like it had been treated with some elite cream. Every drop of water sliding down this new body only emphasized its fragility. His muscles—the ones he had spent hours sculpting in the gym, the ones he was proud of—were gone. Replaced with thin arms, delicate lines. He was weak. And that feeling of helplessness was making him furious.
"I look like some kind of fucking doll," he hissed to himself, frowning. Back in school, those guys—the ones now sitting in the council, playing at being important strategists—had feared him. And now? Now they acted like big-shot tacticians, telling him what to do like this was all some kind of game. Even after he stood up and said he was taking control, they still didn’t take him seriously. They started babbling about how they’d figure out what’s best, telling Bruce to relax, to take a break, like he was some fragile princess who needed a little peace and quiet. That was their biggest mistake. They’d forgotten who he was. They’d forgotten who the real leader was here.
He’d stormed out to his chambers, and the servants had drawn him this bath—on the council’s orders, of course. Bruce wasn’t even surprised. But he figured, "fuck it," he did need some time to think. This wasn’t a joke, and it seemed like he was the only one who grasped just how serious this shit was. The only one who realized they were actually stuck in this damn world.
"Fuck!" he slapped the water with his hand, sending splashes flying everywhere. The whole thing was so absurd that he could barely contain his rage. But Bruce knew sitting around being pissed wouldn’t help. This body, these idiot council nerds, this fucking Meereen—it was all real. And if he wanted to get out of here alive, he had to do something about it.
He leaned back, feeling the water wash over his thin, fragile body. "Sons of the Harpy," he muttered to himself, remembering those bastards rising up because they didn’t want him—or rather, Daenerys—to stay in power. Bruce smirked. If he were in his own body, he’d just plow through them with his fists. He wasn’t the type to hide or play by someone else’s rules. But now things were different. These guys from Meereen, just like his advisors, saw him as some delicate girl, clueless to the fact that inside this "little" body was a force that was anything but feminine.
Bruce pondered, dragging his hand across the surface of the water. "This shithole’s about to blow. A rebellion is brewing. The Harpies are ready to kill me and seize power for themselves. If I were just Bruce, I’d get the hell out of this cursed city. But here, I’m Daenerys. And, damn it, I have dragons."
He lifted his hand to his face, staring at his soft fingers covered in water, and felt that familiar irritation again. This body wasn’t his. It was weak. But he had one advantage—dragons. Bruce wasn’t a strategist, didn’t know how to pull off complicated moves, but he sure as hell knew how to crush his enemies.
"The Harpies want to bring back the old order? What if I just... destroy that fucking order?" he thought. If those bastards want an uprising, let them see how easy it is to wipe them off the face of the earth. With dragons at his side, he could burn everything to the ground if he wanted to. He didn’t need to follow any damn canon. He could make his own path.
"But how do I make the dragons listen to me?" Bruce squinted, lost in thought. He couldn’t just order them around. He had to find a way to connect with them, to control their instincts. "Shit, those beasts understand her... me, don’t they? They have to!"
Right now, he had three dragons. Well, technically two—both locked up after Daenerys had imprisoned them before Bruce found himself in her body. The third one was free, God knows where.
Bruce sat with his shoulders slumped, staring at his reflection in the water. His mind kept cycling through the same question: "How do I get the dragons to obey me?" These weren’t just animals. Dragons sensed power. They respected those who could dominate. Bruce might not be in his old body, but his spirit and willpower were still there. That should be enough.
"Two dragons locked up, the third out there somewhere, but fuck, I can’t just..." He squinted, his thoughts halting mid-sentence. "Why the hell can’t I? What if I try to free them and use them to wipe out the Sons of the Harpy?"
He stood up abruptly, his naked body instantly feeling the cool air. Thoughts of how the dragons would respond to this blonde, weak figure that was now his own made him smirk inwardly. But dragons weren’t people. They sensed fear, power, determination. They weren’t nerdy little shits who’d piss their pants at the sight of a big guy with solid biceps.
"They’ll obey me, just like everyone else. Dragons won’t care what I look like. What matters is who I am inside. And I’m Bruce, goddamn it, and I’ve never lost to anyone!" His thoughts rushed, pushing him closer to his decision.