Chapter 24

Sleep didn't come easy that night for Dany as she tossed and turned trying to get comfortable. It'd been a few hours since her dinner with Orin Stark and ever since she hadn't stopped thinking about their talk. Unlike the rest of Meereen or the people she met in Essos, Orin was one of the men who she'd have to eventually convince to follow under her rule in Westeros.

He was Westerosi, much like Jorah and Barristan, and both men had quickly become important to her because they understood the lands she wished to rule. As much guidance as she had here in Meereen, no one in this city understood the Lords in Westeros like the people who hailed from Westeros.

Orin Stark was not a lord, but his name alone carried a great deal. If she couldn't convince someone who had nothing to lose to follow her, what chance did she have with Lords who did? They'd protect their castles and families and brand her a Mad Queen just like her father.

Barristan believed that the lords would eventually rally behind her cause if they believed she could win, but she didn't want that. The people who followed her believed in her, believed in what she wanted to accomplish. If she accepted that lords would join her out of fear of losing, how would she be any different then all the other kings before her.

Aegon used a great deal of fear to have those submit under his rule, but she wanted more then that. The world she wanted for her people had to be better then all the others, because the others brought them to where they were now.

A broken system.

Still, she wasn't foolish enough to believe every lord would submit to her. There were still some who called themselves king in Westeros and she knew they would not give up that claim so easily. It seemed everything she did now came with great difficulty.

As much as she wanted to think about Westeros, Dany still had problems to deal with in Meereen. She'd made a promise to protect this city, and the others she'd conquered, and she planned on doing that. Finding out the men responsible for the Sons of the Harpy was of paramount to fulfill that promise.

It seemed all her problems decided to keep her up that night, yet just when she was about to close her eyes one more time, Dany heard a noise nearby. Lifting her head, she saw Daario approach her casually from her window, once again sneaking it. It still confused her as to why he decided on sneaking in when she was sure half the pyramid knew of their relationship.

"My queen," Daario smiled.

Sitting up, Dany sighed. "What are you doing here?"

Eyeing the bed knowingly, Daario removed his vest. "I believe you know what we're doing."

Anger rose on her face as Dany glared at him. "I'm not some whore who sits idly by waiting for you Daario Naharis."

Seeing her true feelings on the matter, Daario's smile dropped as he bent to one knee. Quickly grabbing her hand his, he smiled sincerely at her. "Of course not. You know that's not how I think of you."

Dany wanted to stay angry, but decided not to torment the man for caring about her. "I know."

Daario's smile dropped a moment at her tone. "You're troubled?"

"Of course I'm troubled," Dany pulled her hand back as she turned towards the open doors of her balcony. "The cities tearing itself apart, and we're no closer to finding out the people responsible."

"Will find them," Daario assured her. Yet he knew that wasn't all of it. "But that's not all of it, is it?"

"What?"

Smile gone, Daario shook his head. "This is about that Stark boy?"

The name had Dany harden her gaze. "What about him?"

"What did he say? What did he do?" Daario asked. Seeing the look his queen gave to him, Daario rose and headed towards the table to pour himself some wine. "Something happened didn't it?"

"Nothing happened," Dany lied.

"If you took the opinions of every person who ruled under you to heart, you wouldn't live a very peaceful life," Daario explained. He took a large sip before he waved his hand. "Don't listen to what the Stark boy said. What he thinks of you means nothing. You're a queen, and he's a son from the family who opposes you."

It wasn't said directly but Dany understood what Daario had meant. "You think I should kill him?"

"If what Ser Barristan said is true, then he has no one left." Once again Daario was by the queens side. "Starks, Lannisters, Baratheons, these are your enemies. There's only one thing you do with your enemies."

It would have been simple to rule that way. The way Ser Barristan talked about her father, she imagined he treated enemies the same way. Slaughter each and everyone without true cause or meaning. It was an easy way to think, but Dany's life had been anything but easy.

Shaking her head, she refused. "I will not kill a man because of his name."

"He was willing to," Daario pointed out.

"My father murdered his, he has a right to be angry."

Looking towards the table nearby, Daario smirked. "A day ago, this boy insulted you. Now you share meals and defend his honor. Should I be worried?"

"You were once sent to kill me and now you share my bed," Dany argued.

"Yes," Daario agreed. He knew she was right but quickly noticed she failed to answer the question. "So what will you do with him if not have him killed?"

Unsure of where he was going, Dany frowned. "What do you mean?"

"If he's telling the truth, then you have the heir to the north in your hands," Daario explained.

Dany rolled her eyes remembering her earlier conversation with the supposed heir to the north. "He does not want the north."

"What does he want?"

"I don't know." Thinking hard on it, Dany realized that maybe she could find out. "But perhaps you can help."

"Of course."

Smiling at his eagerness, Dany spoke. "Get close to him. Figure out what it is he wants. Why he's here in Essos?"

"Why not ask him yourself?"

The history between Starks and Targaryens made the idea difficult. "He still sees me as the enemy. It'll be much easier for you."

"As you wish," Daario nodded, before sitting himself onto the bed. Slowly he descended towards her, his face stopping above hers. He waited a moment before pushing down to claim her lips but was stopped by her hand. "What's wrong?"

"I'm not in the mood," Dany whispered, looking back up at his disappointment. She was a bit surprised herself; thinking maybe afterwards it might help her sleep easier, but she did not want it. Her mind was elsewhere at the moment. "That will be all."

Daario wanted to press the matter but thought against it. "My Queen."

Slowly Dany watched as the man nodded gracefully before heading outside her room. He was good to her, and he made her feel happy, but as she lied in silence, nothing felt right. She'd taken up residence in the great pyramid, taken a man into her bed, had trustworthy council from people she considered dear friends, and still Dany was unhappy.

If she closed her eyes, she could almost hear her dragons below shouting for her. Her failure at controlling them weighed heavily down on her as she thought of her other child, Drogon roaming free around Essos. Between the separation from her children and Meereens fragile state, Dany almost questioned her ability to rule.

Almost.

And what right do you have?

Closing her eyes, Dany remembered what Orin Stark had said and frowned. She knew his words shouldn't have bothered her, like Daario said, but it did. She was a queen, and from what Barristan had told her, he'd been a bastard from Dorne all his life. It shouldn't have mattered what doubts or insults he threw her way. Yet a small part of her took his words to heart.

Sighing in frustration, Dany wondered if maybe Daario was right all along. Maybe tomorrow she would have him killed. She was stressed enough during the day with all the problems going on around her that she didn't need to be thinking about a Starks opinion before she slept.

"Are you sure you want to be doing that?"

Looking up at the reluctant face of Ser Barristan, Orin nodded. The next the day the knight had come to his original chambers to see him and caught him in the middle of the act of taking off all the bandages the healers had wrapped him in. He was tired of being covered up uncomfortably. If the injuries hadn't killed him, then he assumed it was okay.

"Are you in pain?" Barristan asked, seeing the muscles tense in the boys face.

"It's not the best feeling," Orin admitted, unwrapping the cloth around his hand. His back and chest were a little worse for ware but nothing to serious. His leg, or more precisely his calf, was still painful enough that he walked with a limp.

All that was left was his hand and face. Looking down, Orin was far more concerned with how his hand would feel then how his face would look. His ability to fight was the only that he knew he could rely on, and hoped it wouldn't falter his skill. An ugly scar was of little consequence to him, he wasn't some highborn lord who cared about how he looked at a feast.

First he removed the wrap on his face, slowly as it peeled off against the cut. He held a mirror in his good hand as he accessed the damage. Zazhor had been kind enough not to poke his eye out, but still, the cut ran from the edge of his eye towards his jaw. It was still red and swollen, but overtime it'd heal, never fully though.

"You're lucky you didn't lose an eye," Barristan offered.

"Yes," Orin agreed, turning to his hand.

Hesitantly he began to unwrap it and hope for the best. Whoever patched him had done a terrific job since it took him a few moments just to finally reach the skin. Peeling off the last of it, Orin's eyes widened at the sight. It was hard to look at for a moment, just staring at the bottom where his two fingers had been. For however long he lived, every time he looked down, he'd be reminded of Zazhor's cruelty.

Looking up, Orin met Barristan's timid face. He didn't want the man's pity, or anyone's. Fingers or no fingers, scars or no scars, this would not cripple him. Reaching for Dawn, Orin stood from the bed and strapped the belt around. The sword rested comfortably against his injured leg. He looked like a mess, and quite frankly felt like one, but rejected the notion of giving in.

"Are you sure you're fine?" Barristan asked one last time.

Orin nodded. "I am. Now what can I do for you Ser Barristan?"

The knight smiled at his stubbornness before remembering why he was there. "The Queen would like a word."

The Queen. Orin thought. This should be interesting.

Dany sat patiently alone in the room most of her council meetings took place. It'd been almost an hour since she'd sent Ser Barristan to escort her guest to her and he'd yet to return. She wondered if maybe something had happened but thought against it. Barristan Selmy had yet to fail her, and she imagined he never would during her reign.

Right on cue, Dany's eyes lifted as she spotted the knight enter the room with her guest. He bowed his head gracefully before turning towards Orin Stark and motioned him forward. It took all her strength not to gasp in shock at the sight of the man before her. Unlike yesterday where everything had been mostly covered, the wounds he suffered at the hands of the slavers were open for the world to see.

Her eyes didn't know where to look first as she first came upon his injured hands before looking up at the gash on his face. She felt foolish for looking and felt even worse when her eyes met his and saw shame in them. She wasn't sure why he felt that, knowing what he suffered had been no fault of his.

"My Lady," Orin greeted quietly.

Remaining calm at the title, Dany turned to Ser Barristan. "Leave us."

"Your grace."

Now alone again, Dany rose from her seat and approached her guest. He refused to look away and she stood mere inches away, once more looking at the cut on his face.

"Does it still hurt?" She asked.

Orin wanted to lie but found he couldn't. "Yes."

"The men who did it," Dany began, looking back down at his hand. "Are they dead?"

"I wouldn't be here if they weren't."

Once more her eyes met his. She'd seen a great number of people the past few years, many with different backgrounds and different looks. The Dothraki had been incredibly unique, just as the people in Qarth had been. Even now in Meereen, every day she saw how different each city was when it came to their citizens. Yet after all the people she'd met, never in her life had she seen eyes quite like Orin Starks.

She didn't feel lost in them like one does with their lover, but rather fascinated. It was so strange to see that shade of violet on a man that seemed so…hard. Dany didn't know much about northerners, and the only one she'd ever met had been Jorah, but she did know they were unlike any other folk in Westeros. They were tough, wild, and from the stories she knew, incredibly difficult to control.

Orin Stark highlighted these traits in the brief time she knew him.

Yet only his eyes shattered the image of his northern heritage. They almost looked out of place on him as he stared down at her. Dany hardly realized how tall he stood before she took a step back, looking away from his eyes.

"It's good they're dead," Dany finally said.

"Good?" Orin asked.

Turning back to him, her eyes hardened. "Men capable of horrors like that do not deserve to live."

"I imagine many of your citizens feel the same way," Orin mused. He remembered Vilar's depressed face after being thrown in chains. "It can't be easy living side by side with the men who owned them for much of their lives."

"No," Dany agreed. She knew the difficulties well enough to keep her sleepless many nights. "But I am not here to rule over a city and watch as it tears itself apart. The masters will be punished."

"The guilty," Orin corrected.

The subtle distinction had Dany looking up in anger. His refusal to call her queen and his constant need to question her was starting to annoy her. From her experience men who crossed her didn't last very long.

"The masters used slavery to get where they are," Dany said sternly. "I ended it. I made sure no man woman or child would ever be put in chains again. If they cannot abide by my new world, they'll suffer the consequences."

"All of them?"

Eyes hard, Dany took a step forward. "All of them."

"I don't think…"

Stepping another foot closer, Dany watched as Orin's words died in his mouth. They were close, very close, and she took the moment to make sure he understood who exactly was in charge right now.

"I did not bring you here to question my authority," Dany pressed. She saw his eyes flash in uncertainty. "Do not think because you aren't in a cell that gives you right to talk to me however you please. I am a queen, and right now, you're just a boy very far from home."

The anger in his eyes was almost too obvious to Dany, yet he relented with a nod. "Apologies…My Lady."

Dany's eyes flashed once more. He must have thought he was very funny insulting her like that to her face. It was almost as if he took great pleasure in annoying her. Still she refused to let the words of Orin Stark bother her too much.

Once more the tension was back between the two as they stared down one another. Thankfully, in that moment Daario decided to walk in and announce himself to the both of them.

"Is this a bad time?" Daario asked, a hint of a smile on his face.

Giving one last hard look at Orin, Dany turned to Daario and shook her head. "You're right on time. Please escort Lord Stark."

Dany took solace in the fact that the title bothered the man. She saw his body tense at her words and would have smiled at the fact.

"To the cells?" Orin asked.

Shaking her head, Dany smiled. "Apparently you've been asking to have your friend properly buried. I imagine you might want to say a few words as well. Daario will escort you there."

Momentarily stunned at the news, Orin wasn't sure what to do.

"Goodbye Lord Stark."

Orin's breaths were heavy as he looked up into the bright sky. He'd lived in warm climate all his life, but never had he experienced the burning temperatures he was feeling in Essos. Thankfully as he looked around the dirt hole he stood in, he was almost finished.

"Why not burn him?" Daario called from above. "We had a pyre made for him."

"He's from the north," Orin said. He didn't expect a man who sold his sword to understand what it meant to do the honorable thing. "He deserves a northern burial."

"Seems like a waste of time to me," Daario said.

Looking up at the man, Orin wondered why he was still here. "It's a good thing you aren't doing anything then."

"The wolf has a bite. Are all northerners so hard headed?"

"I'm not a northerner." The smirk of the man annoyed him, almost as much as what he'd said. "And you're very welcome to leave."

"And leave you armed and alone in our city," Daario pointed out. He shook his head. "That doesn't seem like a good idea."

"Our city," Orin repeated, turning back to the hole. The shovel felt weird in his hands now that he was missing two fingers. "Careful, you're not king yet."

"I have no desire to be king," The man answered honesty. Orin had no reason to doubt the man, what good would lying to him do. "It's only her I care for."

Whether or not the man was good enough for the queen mattered little to Orin. It made sense to him that she'd taken this man into her bed. From the little he knew, he could tell the sell sword would do whatever she asked of him. He worshipped her and that must have made her feel powerful. Orin had gotten a glimpse at what happened when you questioned the queen's authority, and knew then and there, that she wouldn't have it.

The sell sword followed orders well, like a dog, and for now that was enough for the queen.

Satisfied with the depth, Orin crawled out of the hole and headed towards Rendal's body. He was glad to see the body had been covered. The sight of the dead man who he now considered a friend wouldn't have been a pretty one. Rendal had already looked terrible last time he saw him, he didn't need to see how time fucked him up even more.

Pushing his hands underneath the body, Orin lifted him slowly, careful not to drop him. He was heavy, for heavier then he expected, but he didn't ask for help. Instead he slowly made his way towards the hole, and dropped the body inside. A loud thump was all he heard as he stared down at his friend.

He didn't deserve to die the way he did, but Orin was glad that he'd gotten the chance to bury Rendal from Bear Island the way he was supposed to be. He couldn't save him, but he did his best to honor him.

Taking the shovel once more, Orin began to cover the grave.

Orin expected to find himself back in his room after burying Rendal but instead sat comfortably inside a tavern with Daario seated across from him. An older gentleman had brought the two a drink a couple minutes ago, and since then the two had remained in silence.

Taking the time to look around, Orin took in the sights of the establishment. Unlike in Dorne where the places he frequently went for a drink with Rydan were loud and cluttered, the place he now sat in was quiet and empty. Empty chairs littered around their table and the only people besides the tavern owner had been half a dozen men in the corner talking quietly.

In fact, remembering their walk through the streets of Mereen, Orin noticed that many roads and alleys had been empty. There were no citizens around to notice. Whatever had happened under the queen's rule, clearly the city hadn't flourished under it.

"You don't talk much," Daario noticed. He took a sip of his ale before looking down at Orin's sword. "Apparently that's the most famous sword Ser Barristan tells me. You know how to use it?"

"I'd be dead if I didn't."

Smiling, Daario gestured towards his injured hand that rested against the table. "Must be difficult now."

Looking where his fingers used to be, Orin shook his head. "I use my right."

"That's a greatsword," Daario pointed out. "Two hands. I might not look like I understand the difference when it comes to fighting like a Westerosi knight, but I assure you, I know the craft well."

"Well I use one hand." He didn't need tips on how to fight from someone he didn't trust.

"Fair enough." Feeling his drinking partner's walls come up, Daario tried a different tactic. "Speaking of Westeros, you're a long way from home. Running or hiding?"

Running or hiding?

He wasn't sure he was doing. The plan he made with Conin died the moment his friend passed away in the burning ship. Now he was just the poor fool trapped across the narrow sea with no chance of getting back.

"Says the man serving the rightful queen of Westeros," Orin countered. "Your queens reign in Meereen doesn't quite meet the qualifications of ruling over Westeros. I'm afraid it's long way away."

"She'll eventually turn her sights west, and once she does the Lords of Westeros will have no idea what's coming."

His belief in his queen was admirable. Orin had no doubt Daario believed in his queen's plans to rule. He was sure many of the people who followed her felt the same, but belief did not win wars. Men won wars, and from the little he'd seen from the city, Daenerys was missing quite a few to rule 7 kingdoms.

"You're a few men short," Orin smiled. He thought of the resistance they'd face once a Targaryen reached the shores of Westeros. "I don't think you understand how difficult it will be taking 7 resisting kingdoms."

Daario only laughed. "Men aren't the only way to take a kingdom."