Pheline: Thank you, and sadly no. Specific rules on this site about doing stories like that and unfortunately they aren't allowed. Although I am surprised after so long for someone to mention them hahahah.

Chapter 25

The city of Meereen was unlike any other in the world. Whereas ones in Westeros had castles and keeps for their people, the great pyramid was the pinnacle structure of the city. Orin had never such a building before in his life as he remembered looking upon its greatness for the first time.

Walking along the halls with Daario, it was easy to notice that the pyramid they currently occupied was unlike anything else in the city. Of the few rooms Orin had already seen, everything was built with it's own uniqueness. There wasn't a single room that looked like another, giving the rarity of the building to be that much more prominent.

The only thing in common with Kings Landing was that like the Red Keep, a poorer population surrounded the great pyramid. The streets leading up to the pyramid were eerily similar to Flea Bottom. Yet, poor or no poor, the pyramid the queen occupied was an incredible sight.

Passing by the throne room, Orin noticed an obscene amount of people waiting patiently. Only the guards he now knew as unsullied were present, and neither group said a word. It was silent as if no one was there at all.

As Orin and Daario got closer, the first man in line widened his eyes at the two before heading over. His unusual attire was what the masters apparently dressed themselves in as Daario had pointed out earlier during their time in the city.

"Hizdahr," Daario said. Orin could have sworn he heard a bit of annoyance in the sell sword. "What can I do for you?"

"I'd like an audience with the queen," The man asked quietly as he gave Orin a once over.

"I believe the queen was final when she gave you her answer," Daario explained.

"That very well may be true," Hizdahr answered back. "But I'd rather much discuss this with her then you."

Giving the two one last look, the nobleman rejoined the others in line. Daario could only shake his head before leading Orin past the group of people and towards their destination. You'd have to be a fool not to see the tension between the two men but Orin thought against asking head on. Instead he decided to go about it a different way.

"Seems like a persistent man," Orin offered.

Laughing out loud, Daario didn't even bother to deny it. "He's a snake. The masters deserve to be punished, not ask for audiences with the queen."

"Punished?" Orin repeated. That was a different way of saying killed.

"There only interested in staying rich. Money is all they know."

"How so?"

"There are many great traditions in Essos that you foreigners wouldn't understand. One of which are the fighting pits."

The term was lost on Orin. "Fighting pits?"

"The concepts rather simple really," Daario explained. He led them past another hallway and up a stairs. "Men inside a pit fighting till the death."

"For what purpose?"

The idea was barbaric. The only thing Orin could think of that came close to what Daario explained was the tournaments held at great castles back home. Of course no men fought till the death at these gatherings, making the custom very sensible to Orin. That wasn't to say people never died during a joust, but the purpose was to unseat the man, not kill him.

"Men fight for different reasons. Until recently the fighting pits were a way of making money for the masters. Now that slavery is over, they've taken quite the hit."

"That's good to hear."

"Maybe," Daario mused, before stopping them both. He looked at Orin seriously as he spoke. "But I grew up in the fighting pits. I understand what they could do for a man. What it did for me."

"Fighting shouldn't be for entertainment," Orin argued.

"Why not? If men enjoy killing, why not have them kill for people who enjoy watching? What makes dying in a battle field more honorable then dying in a pit?"

It was a shame that the man actually thought what he believed in was right. Whatever pleasures Orin got out of killing those who wronged him, he knew the difference between killing for reason rather then sport, and he prayed to every god that he would continue to do so.

"I don't expect a sell sword to know anything about honor," Orin whispered back.

Taking a step closer, Daario eyed him hard. "Just because you carry around a fancy sword, doesn't make you a great warrior. You want to do the honorable thing? Go ahead, you'll end up like your father. But I choose to live, and just because I make money out of it doesn't diminish that, rather makes me smart for getting paid to do something I'm good at."

The mention of his father had Orin drop his hand towards his sword.

"You sure you want to do this?" Daario smiled.

"Brandon Stark was a greater man then you'll ever be," Orin spoke quietly. His hand gripped the hilt of Dawn tight before it dropped. "But I'm not going to dishonor his memory by dying at the hands of another Targaryen. The moment I kill you, I die. You're not worth my life."

"You're so sure you'd win?" Daario asked, a little impressed.

Refusing to give the man the satisfaction of answering, Orin took a step back. "We shouldn't keep your queen waiting."

"I like you," Daario smirked at him. Giving Orin a tap on the shoulder, he continued past ahead. "Come on Stark."

The man's aloofness confused him as he followed Daario up another set of stairs. One moment they were close to drawing swords, and the next he was smiling like they were best of friends. Maybe the customs really were different in Essos.

The familiar sight of the room he'd shared a meal in with the queen came into view as Orin followed Daario inside. There, sitting by the table with Ser Barristan standing nearby, the queen sat with a smile on her face.

She hadn't noticed them and for a moment, Orin felt his insides turn. Without the history her name carried, or the little he knew about her, Orin could only see a girl sit happily in the sunlight with a mesmerizing smile. It wasn't because she was beautiful, or because she was a queen, or any other trait that could sway a man, it was because in this moment, without knowing anything that was going on around them, Orin could only see pure joy come from her face.

He'd forgotten what it looked like to be happy. Yet looking at Daenerys Targaryen smile at Ser Barristan Selmy, he knew that's what it was.

"Your grace," Daario interrupted. The moment he spoke her smile dropped and Orin was quickly reminded of the real world once more. "Hizdahr wishes to speak with you, along with hundreds more."

Sighing in frustration, Dany turned to Barristan with a knowing look. "Will you be joining us Ser Barristan?"

"I think I can protect you your grace," Daario added before the man could speak.

"I think I can protect me," Dany answered sarcastically. Orin had to hold back a smile as she turned to Barristan. "Go Ser Barristan, sing a song for me."

"Your grace." Nodding his head, Barristan rounded the corner and headed towards Orin and Daario.

Looking quickly towards the queen, Orin caught Dany already watching him intently. He nearly took a step back at her powerful gaze.

"Perhaps Lord Stark would like to join to Ser Barristan," The queen offered. She had a small smile on her face, an almost taunting one. "I'm sure he has a great number of questions about his uncle."

The name bothered Orin but knew she did it on purpose. As long as he continued to refuse her as his queen, she'd continue to mock him as Lord Stark. Still, he supposed the name she had for him was better then having him killed. He imagined Joffrey would have his head on a spike if he had refused to call him king so many times.

Little victories.

Nodding his head towards Ser Barristan, Orin turned towards the queen before he spoke. "Of course My Lady."

Once again Orin walked the streets of Meereen but this time with someone he didn't mind. In fact Ser Barristan was the only person in this city Orin felt comfortable around. He was the only one from his homeland and the only real person who Orin felt he could understand. Of course it didn't help that very few people in this city did not speak the same language as him. So he appreciated the rare moment with the knight.

"You still refuse to call her queen," Barristan spoke up.

Orin turned towards him as he walked alongside him in the empty street. "And that bothers you?"

"Your uncle refused to call Joffrey his king. In the end it cost Lord Stark his life."

"Joffrey was no king," Orin snapped, a little too harshly.

"You'll find no quarrels with me," Barristan said truthfully. The knight still felt angry at his dismissal.

"You think your queen will kill me because I refuse to acknowledge her claim to the throne?"

It seemed petty, but people had killed for less.

"No." It sounded as if the man truly believed that. "A ruler who uses fear to make those follow them isn't one who inspires loyalty. Eventually the people will turn on them when they realize that the cost of their life is better then the life they lived under that rulers thumb.

"The Mad King used fear to keep his kingdom and in the end his rule ended with his death. Daenerys is not her father. Thousands of men woman and children do not follow her out of fear. She gave them the courage to take back their lives and believe in a world that's better then the terrible one they were used to. I've served 3 kings in my lifetime, she's the only one I truly believe in because of that."

Having the belief of a knight was a great honor, Orin would know. He carried the belief of Conin on his shoulder for most of his life like a badge. It made him feel proud to have such a man believe in him the way his friend did.

Ser Barristan Selmy was one of the greatest knights in recent memory and probably the most famous fighter living. So to have his belief and trust was a great honor as well. It was earned, and whatever Daenerys had done, she clearly had a devote follow in Barristan the bold.

"And her father?" Orin asked. He remembered that the Mad King had started off good as well. "What if one day she decides to burn a city to the ground? Or watch as a son strangles himself to death trying to save his father? Will you still believe in her then? You saw what the Mad King did, you knew his cruelty, and still you protected him. My uncle protected him. How could I believe in a monarch when their own men will turn the other cheek during their tyranny?"

It was a hard realization for Orin to admit, but one he knew to be true. His uncle was the greatest swordsman who ever lived. One of the most honorable men there was. Yet he stood by and protected a madman. He wondered if his uncle stood in the throne room watching his father die.

Looking back at Ser Barristan, Orin felt badly seeing the conflict in the man's eyes. "I meant no disrespect Ser Barristan."

"And you've given none," The man smiled kindly. Stopping them in their tracks, the man grabbed his shoulder gently. "I cared for your mother once, a long time ago. She was without a doubt the most enchanting woman I'd ever seen. Not because of her beauty, any man could see that, but her grace. She was such a kind soul. Her brother was one of my closest friends. You could not find a more honorable man then Ser Arthur Dayne. Your family has meant a great deal to me in my life, so I feel very comfortable saying to you that I've made many mistakes. I watched good men die, your father included, because I was too stubborn to do anything otherwise. I have to live with those mistakes Orin, till the day I die. All I could do in the little time I have left is make sure that the best person for Westeros sits on the Iron Throne."

The pain was evident on Barristan's face. It took a lot of courage to admit to when you were wrong, and Orin imagined it was even harder when you admitted it to others. Barristan Selmy was a good man; Orin knew that from the little time they spent together. If he was strong enough to admit his faults, then Orin had to be strong enough to accept them.

"I hope you're right," Orin smiled gently.

"If you believe anything I say, believe this. She is unlike any other person I've ever met. Give her a chance. I swear on my honor she's the best chance Westeros has."

"A chance?" Orin repeated. He thought he was mad for even thinking about it, but seeing the old mans face, he saw the belief in his eyes. Nodding his head slightly, he smiled. "I think I can do that."

Barristan's hopeful smile was cut off by a loud noise in the city. Both the men's eyes lifted as the sound of bells was heard off loudly in the distance. The empty street they occupied soon filled with scared citizens as they headed towards them in fear. Orin looked around trying to find the cause of the chaos but saw nothing.

"What's happening?" Orin asked.

Drawing his sword, Barristan turned towards him. "Get back to the pyramid."

"I'm not leaving you," Orin insisted. Pulling out his own sword, he held Dawn ready.

Orin could see the struggle on Barristan's face but he relented. "Come on then."

Racing through the streets, the two did their best not to collide with any frightened people. The bells above them started to get louder as the streets started to empty. Soon all the scared people running had disappeared leaving only Orin and Ser Barristan.

Orin's body still ached but he did his best to ignore it. Instead, he kept quiet and let the veteran knight lead as the two made their way into an alleyway. Off in the distance the sound of metal clashing could be heard as they quickened their pace. Unsure what they'd face, Orin cleared his mind and readied himself.

Together they turned a corner as saw mayhem ensue. Standing in the middle of men covered in golden masks, an injured unsullied warrior crouched on one knee in pain. Most of the men were too busy fighting him off to notice Ser Barristan run in a stab one from the back. Falling dead on the floor, the rest of the golden masked men noticed their deceased friend, and turned to them.

Readying his sword, Orin eyed the dozen or more men and their surroundings. The shallow alleyway wasn't ideal for such a large sword, but Orin would have to make due. Standing side by side with one of the greatest knights, Orin charged first into the mob of men.

Their small daggers could hardly reach him before he struck one down, slashing his neck. Quickly spinning towards the others, Orin tried to grip his sword with both hands to better defend himself, but found he couldn't grasp the sword well enough.

The masked men took the moment to strike, slashing a dagger cleanly across his upper leg. Flinching in pain, Orin was saved from another attack when Barristan drove in with his sword, before pushing the man back with his foot, and swinging his sword towards his head.

Orin didn't have time to admire as the head split clean off, as the two stood back to back surrounded by men. The golden masked men with spears soon advanced, sending a fury towards them. Orin dodged the first, but heard the second connect with Barristan behind him. He wanted to turn and help but soon two more with daggers charged at him.

He parried the attack, and quickly pulled his small dagger from his own belt and shoved it into one of the men's belly. His grip in the dagger loosened with his missing fingers, so Orin abandoned his blade and spun to the next one.

His body began to tire from all his old wounds and knew he wouldn't last much longer. Hearing another scream come from the old knight, Orin killed off another attacker and made his way towards Barristan.

The knight had taken a dagger in the back as Orin quickly shoved Dawn through the back of the man responsible. Pushing him aside, Orin leaned down, trying to help the man up.

"Are you all right?" Orin asked breathlessly.

Looking up, he saw half a dozen more ready their knife's to finish them off before the forgotten unsullied solider stabbed one in the back with a spear. Taking the surprised moment, Orin lunged forward, cleaving a man's head clean off.

Together, him and the unsullied battled off the remaining ones, driving their attacks away from Ser Barristan. The unsullied spear was very useful as he jammed it towards the golden masks, keeping them at a distance. As soon as one of them was brave enough to attack, that's when Orin struck, killing him.

They quickly dispatched the last of them before turning to Ser Barristan who'd taken it upon himself to fight off three more. Orin watched in awe as the knight, even with two knifes stuck in his torso, took down the remaining three with such ease. It was brilliant to see until the man collapsed onto one knee.

Orin's eyes widened at the sight of one of the masked men rising from the floor, barely alive, raise his sword towards Ser Barristan. He was too far to save the man's life as he watched the sword fall.

In an instant, a spear hurled through the air past him, and into the chest of the masked man. Orin turned to the unsullied soldier, who had now collapsed onto the wall nearby. Surrounded by dead men, Orin sprinted to Ser Barristan.

Grabbing hold of his shoulders, he tried to lift him off the ground and onto his back. "Come on. Stay with me."

Orin felt his hands bloody as he held the dying man. Barristan's eyes were heavy as he looked up. He tried to speak, but only his heavy breaths could be heard. Unsure what to do, Orin looked around frantically, trying to see if anyone had come to help.

"Stay with me," Orin whispered, holding the man close. He could feel the life leave the man's body as he shook him violently. "No. No no no you don't die. This is not your time."

Lifting his head, Orin began to shout.