Chapter 3
(Missandei's thoughts take place during season 7, episode eight's "The Dragon and the Wolf")
Missandei's POV
After nearly a month apart, we were nearing my love, Torgo Nudho. He was safe, having valiantly protected himself and his fleet.
For him and him alone, I waited.
Onboard the massive Greyjoy ship with its proud black flag blown back by brusque winds, I stood alongside the twice exiled Jorah Mormont, the man who taught Torgo the word "precious."
"You will see him again," Jorah whispered. "I have fought at his side several times. He is one of the most agile fighters I have ever bore witness and I have battled for many years. Strong, sharp, focused, your Torgo Nudho is an honorable asset to our queen's cause."
"Thank you," I said softly, fighting against new fluid building in my eyes. I blinked back the rush of wetness, gazing out at the endless blue-green waters, waiting for the sight of shore.
"I know it is not my place, Missandei of Naath, Torgo Nudho is a fortunate man to have won the heart of so noble a woman. He, the Queen, and I value your steadfast loyalty."
"I would not have it any other way."
We shared a smile and looked back, seeing the high castle atop of the huge hunks of glistening rock. It looked impenetrable, guarded.
So this was what my queen wanted, the Iron Throne situated here. By the goddesses of Naath, we would soon achieve that.
/
During the journey to the negotiation in King's Landing's Dragonpit, my telltale heart hammered madly as though knowing its mate were near. Torgo and his Unsullied soldiers were just mere seconds, close enough as opposed to oceans and lands away. It had been many torturous months. My night dreams were filled with memories to sedate lonely mornings, everything blended and bled together in a pulsing, rhythmatic collision, the pleasure of explorative kisses, the searching of sacredness between thighs. I knew nothing greater than our amorous passion, a slow building journey that simmered thickly over time, boiled in one single night.
"I love you," I said, my low toned confession mingling with the soothing fires, our replete bodies filling the spaces of his barren room. If only we could stay forever suspended blissfully this way, touching, kissing, solely enjoying each other's company sans all the dreadful horrors that waited outside these four quiet walls.
"Love?" He asked, ever the inquisitive student.
"This word is the emotion you feel here."
I sat up and slightly dropped the blanket an inch, bringing his beautiful hand over to my heart to feel the steady thrumming. He too settled upright and looked deeply into my face, caressing my skin, feeling the heartbeat, feeling the growing warmth.
"It is like I cannot breathe without seeing your face during the day," I continued. "My heart skips every time you look at me. When I feel your eyes on me, I am alive. When you are gone, I feel loss and fear. All I want is to see you, see you seeing me always."
The Unsullied only knew words for war, limiting their vocabulary, their emotional attachments that held nothing beyond violence.
"I love you," he repeated, placing my face in his hands, caressing my cheeks and curls, staring fiercely, overprotective due in part to his raised nature.
I took one hand and kissed his palm.
"You will return to me," I vowed.
"I will," he promised.
He pressed his lips against mine, first tender and sweet, then with persuasive intensity, encouraging my mouth to open, to join our wet tongues together, thrusting and twisting, whilst his sensitive hands danced on my feverish body, his fingers searching between me again before the all consuming dawn...
I walked with Jorah, Jon Snow, and Ser Davos, Tyrion leading our party. We were directed to sit beneath a red roof on the opposite side.
Queen Cersei and her armor clanking subjects arrived soon after. The remains of my iron hot rage came to fruition, the fury like Drogon's flames that these people viciously burned the Unsullied ships and left them stranded without food in Casterly Rock. Now we were sitting in front of them, politely asking them for help. Despite my anger, however, I knew this was absolutely necessary.
I studied Queen Cersei, a strong, authoritative face, pink lips, a silver crown carefully placed above her cropped golden hair. According to Tyrion, beneath her winsome beauty were razor sharp talons that had the tenacity to inflict a world of harm to even the most innocent of people. Her disposition screamed haughtiness and obedience, the way she stared at us as though we were wasting her time, spitting on her patience. I believed every word Tyrion uttered.
"Where is she?" Queen Cersei asked, her teeth on edge, her green eyes shadowed in contempt.
"She'll be here soon," Tyrion replied.
"She didn't travel with you?"
"No."
Queen Cersei rolled her eyes, looking at her brother with such jarring malice. One wouldn't believe these two could ever be siblings. Yet his other brother, the gold haired Jaime, seemed intrigued, obviously the kinder of the twins. Yet he too had a glaring past. After all, he killed my queen's father.
Suddenly, two dragons flew ahead, their sounds crashing the awkward silence.
I smiled to myself, knowing that I must keep cool and calm. My queen made me feel belonging in spaces like these, spaces of commendable power. My former master Kraznys Mo Nabloz made sure my collar was never removed. In places such as these, I would have to remember my station despite my translation abilities.
Queen Daenerys Stormborn, Mother of Dragons, Breaker of Chains, the last Targaryen rode in on Drogon's back. She gracefully stepped off her child like a proud, beaming mother, her steel gaze cutting Cersei's with obvious displeasure. Yes, my queen does know how to make an entrance. The other regal woman, icy and cruel, tried to hide her impression under a sneer at my Queen's tardiness. The braids I made for her remained firm and proud with two curled tendrils framing the sides of her face.
It was quite strange that these two opposing sides were in middle a war for the Iron Throne while one side desperately hoped to join together to defeat this otherworldly evil that could kill us all.
We already lost one dragon in the North. Poor Viserion.
"We've been here for some time," Queen Cersei remarked to my queen, each word delivered in chilling upset.
"My apologies," Queen Daenerys said, not the least bit intimidated.
"We are here to-" Tyrion stated, rising, interrupted by a gruff man.
"Theon, I have your sister. If you don't submit to me here and now, I'll kill her."
No one said a word. Just looked particularly stunned by the rude outburst.
I hoped, however, that the kidnapped woman was alright.
"I think we ought to begin with logic concerns," Tyrion said.
"You're the smallest concern here."
"Sit down or leave," Queen Cersei said to the disrespectful interloper.
Tyrion resumed the meeting, leading commendably. I was quite impressed with his remarkable leadership- a man who could drink endless goblets of wine and tell obscene jokes on one hand and the other be the serious voice of reason despite those who didn't particularly respect him due to his height. I too felt like an outsider, due to my skin color and being a woman, but our queen made us both feel above adequate and often took our advising into consideration.
"The same thing is coming for all of us," Jon Snow intervened. "A general that you can't negotiate with. An army that doesn't leave corpses behind on the battlefield..."
"I don't think it's serious," Queen Cersei sneered. "I think it's another bad joke. You're asking me for a truce."
"Yes," Queen Daenerys said. "That's all."
"That's all? Pull back my armies while you go on your monster hunt? All while you expand your position."
"Your capital will be safe until the Northern threat is dealt with. You have my word."
"A word of a would be usurper."
"There is no conversation that will erase the last fifty years," Tyrion interrupted. "We have something to show you."
The tall, scraggly man with distinctive facial scars named The Hound came up the entrance on the stage, carrying a heavy crate at his back. He took off the chains and pried off the lid. For a long moment nothing happened. He flung it upside down and a creature escaped, running like mad towards Queen Cersei.
I gasped, momentarily frightened for the stony queen.
It was something inhuman, of no visible age, a hunched, vicious corpse running amok. Ugly, mottled gray flesh in torn clothes must have smelled like mold. The sight of it horrified everyone including the sudden reactionary Queen Cersei.
"We can destroy them by burning them," Jon said, setting fire to a torn, still animated arm, "and we can destroy them with dragon glove. If we don't win this fight, then that is the fate of every person in the world."
He stabbed the miserable creature's head with a dragonglass sword and took his seat.
Queen Cersei first agreed, but on the conditions that the King of the North made no allegiance. Jon passionately pledged to my queen. Though Tyrion disputed the young man's declaration, I inwardly lauded his honesty, for sometimes such a thing strengthened my humble opinion of a stranger's character. With my queen asking for his counsel more and more, this would certainly added in her favorable treatment of him.
Tyrion decided to speak to his sister privately. I stood beside Jorah, watching the older man sweep his jealousy beneath civility at Jon and our queen speaking privately. Oh how I felt empathy for him, loving a woman from afar, seeing her fall for others. Yet our queen loved Jorah in a whole other way, not as lovers that he so obviously wanted and pined for, but as a man. That trust was just as valid and important. However, I would be devastated too if I hadn't ever received Torgo Nudho's love.
/
After the private meeting, Queen Cersei had a change of heart. The woman who had wished us all death in one icy breath, now would join her forces with ours. Tyrion's persuasion obviously struck her as hard as the rest of us. Yes, he had a way with words. That sly, clever hand of my queen's was something else indeed.
Still, this upcoming battle made me uneasy. My queen had lost one of her children to these creatures straight out of grotesque nightmares and fairy tales. When she had described them, had told me of their violence and speed, I hadn't been prepared to see it in the flesh, decayed flesh rather. Together, the North, King's Landing, and our Unsullied and Dothraki were going to fight thousands of that terrifying creature, these soulless monsters that walked like men, skin deflayed, growling incoherently
Inside, my usual fear for Torgo Nudho tripled.
It was as though our lives had shifted from bad to worse. The moment we were freed from our master's collars, new dangers threatened to keep us from living the harmonious peace we truly desired.
I prayed that we all survived.
"Well," my queen said, approaching me and taking my arm. "I will have your confidence on this meeting of ours later, but..."
"Yes?" I asked, allowing her to lead me away from the men.
"I think I know what you need right of this very moment and pray tell do not deny that you know of what or whom I speak."
She smiled like she had an enticing secret and I blushed immediately, my intuitive heart almost crushing from the great weight of expectation. If there weren't any doubt of how much my queen deserves my loyalty, our loyalty...
First things first, however, it was time to see my love at last.