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'My Queen,' Syrio said, ascending the stairs to the dias before the throne where Queen Daenarys sat. A young woman in a platinum-grey dress with a crown of silver, her hair neatly braided in a tight bun, she had a regal bearing that belied her youth.

'I thank you for the care that you have shown my apprentice,' he said, bowing with his hand on the hilt of his rapier and she smiled.

'You are welcome, my Lord,' she said and Syrio held up his hand.

'I am no Lord, my Queen, simply the First Sword of Braavos...'

'...very well,' Daenarys said. 'May I ask what you intend to do, now?'

'With your permission, your Grace, I will remain until my apprentice is well enough to travel and we will then take our leave...'

'Of course. Chambers will be provided for as long as you require them...'

'Thank you, your Grace...'

#################

'What did she say?' Arya asked as Syrio closed the door to her room and sat down in the chair next to her bed.

'We can stay until your wound is healed,' he said. 'Now, sit up, child...

Wincing slightly, Arya pushed herself up, raising her nightshirt to show the bandage around her midsection. Gently, Syrio unwound it, revealing the cut on her abdomen.

'It heals well,' he said, wrapping a new bandage around it and she sat back. 'You will be ready to travel in a few days. Now, how are you feeling? Have you eaten? Slept?'

'...yes,' Arya said and he gave her a small smile.

'Good. Tomorrow, we will start training. For now, you must rest...'

'Yes, Syrio...'

#################

Syrio closed the door of Arya's chambers behind him, stopping when he saw a bald, dark-skinned man in a blue-black armour, with a helmet held in one hand.

'You are Unsullied,' Syrio said and he nodded.

'I am. This one is named Torgo Nudho...'

'Are you the one who found my apprentice...?'

'I am. I saw her kill two Sons of the Harpy. She has shown courage...'

'Thank you,' Syrio said, bowing to him. 'Good night, Torgo Nudho...'

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