riley1506106: Orin will continue to always speak his mind and be frank with Daenerys, just not insult her like he did during their first meeting. He'll still test her patience with the way he speaks, but he understands what kind of person she is now as well. It's a fine line to juggle because you want tension, yet you also want progression, and it also has to be believable in the fact that Dany won't take anymore shit from him hahaha. So hopefully I'm achieving that. And of course, thank you for the review!
Hail King Cerion: Thank you very much, and I'm glad you're enjoying their interactions. It's hard to find the right words for both these characters because I really want to make their scenes together work. So I'm very glad to read this review. Hopefully I continue to make it work.
Chapter 28
The mood around the city had vastly improved after the announcement Daenerys was to wed Hizdahr zo Loraq. There was no specific date as to when the marriage would consummate, but for now, the news was enough to settle the citizens. It'd been a difficult few weeks for them, but now they were united for one purpose.
Adding to the good news for the people of Meereen, the queen had also allowed the traditional fighting pits to be re opened. Both the former masters and slaves seemed pleased at the news.
Orin for the most part stayed mostly to himself after his talk with the queen. She'd been very busy with her responsibilities as ruler and solely focused on that. Other then Missandei, who was always by the queen's side during that time, Orin had literally no one to talk to.
With Ser Barristan still bed ridden, Orin felt no one in the pyramid could relate to him. The distinguished knight was someone who could give valuable information on Orin's family, but couldn't at the moment. Now he was alone, surrounded by unsullied soldiers who didn't talk, and second sons who Orin had no mood to talk to.
So far away from home, surrounded by strangers, and nothing to do, Orin thought of the one thing he could always turn too.
Training.
That's where he found himself the morning he woke. It was either having to spend another day in his bed, or to train, and Orin had enough rest. His body felt terrific for the first time in long while and he took advantage of it.
Outside under the warm sun, Orin stood facing off against a sparring dummy, as he held Dawn in his hands. He hadn't used a dummy since he was a child, but thought against asking someone for help.
Gripping the hilt, Orin swung the blade hard, taking the head of the dummy clean off. Surprised at the result, Orin looked down at the sword and stared. The blade really was sharp like the stories had said. It looked like any old blade, except for the color of course, but he'd never known a sword that hardly needed sharpening.
He wondered if his uncle, Ser Arthur Dayne, ever sat around sharpening his blade mindlessly. Some knights, and not the fancy ones strutting around Kings Landing who'd never seen a battle before, had a connection with their sword. It was the one thing that men depended on most to survive during a fight.
Orin was sure his uncle held great pride for this sword, as did he, but unlike his uncle, Orin still felt he hadn't earned it. He'd already killed a few men with it, but still it felt wrong. One day perhaps he'd finally feel comfortable holding it, like his uncle.
Looking back towards the dummy, Orin's eyes landed on the weapons rack behind it. A few rusted swords remained hanging with no one in sight to use them. Remembering the old stories of his uncle, he made his way over.
All the used swords looked the same as Orin used his free hand to hover over them. The sight of his finger's missing annoyed him as his hand grasped the sharpest one he saw. Pulling upwards, his fingers almost dropped the blade at the sudden movement.
He'd always wanted to be able to use two swords. Apparently his uncle had on occasion and had been near unstoppable to defeat. Lewin had stressed that it was a forgotten practice, and one Orin would never learn, and for a long time he accepted it.
Yet there was no one around to scold him, so here he was.
Gripping Dawn tight, Orin readied his other hand and lifted the other sword. Within seconds his newest sword dropped to the floor. Cursing at his misfortune, he quickly picked it up.
Again he gripped both swords and held them high. His three fingers held the sword tight as he turned towards the headless dummy. Quickly taking a step forward, Orin swung Dawn, connecting with the dummy before spinning halfway and swinging the other sword towards it. The blade connected but on impact fell from his hands.
The sharp movement pained his hand as he sighed in frustration. His fingers were basically useless as he eyed the fallen sword. It shouldn't have annoyed Orin, knowing he still had his dominant hand. Gods forbid, he was lucky he didn't end up like Jaime Lannister.
Yet it still bothered him.
Refusing to quit, Orin bent down slowly as he picked up the sword once more. Maybe the fault was swinging at an actual target. The first thing he learned when he was younger was to just get comfortable swinging the sword. Afterwards, he moved towards a dummy and then a person.
It was steps, and right now, Orin was ignoring the first one.
Turning his back to the dummy, Orin stared towards nothing as he held the swords high and ready. Quickly he swung at the air, relishing the fact that neither sword toppled to the ground. Stepping back, he spun Dawn in his hand, deflecting a would be attack as he lowered his knee and spun his other sword towards the make shift attacker.
The grip felt off, but the sword remained as Orin rose. It felt different to everything he was custom to, but he had a taste, and now wanted it.
For the next hour or so all he did was swing at nothing with both swords. He failed many times, and after each time, he failed again, but bit-by-bit the sword began to remain in his hands. His moves were sloppy, his foot stance was wrong, and he would have been dead a hundred times over. Yet as he swung one last time at nothing, Orin had a small smile behind his dirty face.
"Sitting through the great games is enough torment."
Dany stood impatiently atop her balcony looking over the great city. She wished she could remain standing instead of sitting through a torturous afternoon with Hizdahr as they watched men butcher each other for sport. She'd given the people what they wanted, and now she had to endure it as well.
Dany had hoped giving the Meereenese what they want would be enough, but as Hizdahr now explained, it was tradition for her to visit the lower pits before the great games. Apparently honoring the men with her presence was custom to the pits.
"Your queen," Daario announced behind her. Turning, she spotted the captain of the second sons standing over her intended. "You can choose not to go."
"It's tradition," Hizdahr argued.
"The queen decides what is and what isn't tradition," Daario pressed.
Dany appreciated the aid from her lover but shook her head. "He's right. It's tradition for the city, and I will follow it best I can."
"Thank you your grace."
Dany ignored the man's smile as she turned to Daario. "Will you be joining us?"
"Probably best I stay with Missandei," Daario explained. "I still have a few things I need to check in with my second sons about patrol now that Greyworm is bed ridden. I'll try and hurry if you need me there."
"The queen will be protected," Hizdahr offered.
"By you?" Dany asked innocently. The look on the man's face was enough to satisfy Dany as she turned to her advisor. "I'll be fine."
The sound of footsteps approaching had Dany's attention as she watched Missandei and Orin enter the room. She's almost forgotten that her northern guest had requested a meeting with her today. It'd been a stressful two weeks and her mind hadn't been as keen as it usually was.
Eyeing the man, Dany's eyes widened at his current state. Dirt and sweat covered most of his body as her mind began to wonder if another attack had happened.
"Is everything all right?"
Looking down at himself, Orin rubbed his head shyly. "I probably should have washed."
"Yes that's quite the smell," Hizdahr mumbled.
Dany wanted to glare at the man but could only offer Orin a small smile. "It's fine."
"Get in a scrap?" Daario asked, a bit curious.
"Training."
His answer was short and simple, but Dany heard the undertone. She'd half to be daft not to notice the tension between the two men. For whatever reason both men wanted the other dead, and Dany could only wonder why.
"Perhaps you'd like to enlist in the great games," Hizdahr offered. The others turned to his curious stare. "It'd be very unique to have a Westerosi knight fight."
"No!"
The room was silent at Dany's sudden outburst. All eyes turned to her, as she remained silent. She could see their confusion but did her best to ignore it. For whatever reason, she would not have the heir to the north die in some pit for the amusement of others. Whether or not Orin Stark supported her claim, his death would not come from the fighting pits.
Looking at each person, Dany sternly spoke. "Please give us the room."
Her authority was clearly heard as everyone left without another word. It was good that no one questioned her, fearing that if they had she might snap.
Now alone, she turned to Orin expectantly.
"You asked to see me?" Dany asked, no emotion in her voice.
"Your off to the pits today?" Orin asked, eyeing the retreating forms of the others. "Your soon to be husband seems happy enough."
"Don't call him that," Dany ordered. Her bite startled him as her face softened. "I apologize. It's been very stressful few days."
"To be expected," Orin sympathized, as he sat down. "I imagine watching men kill each other won't be much fun."
Dany's eyes hardened at his tone.
"I know you don't agree with it," Orin continued, seeing the anger in her eyes. "Hopefully with time the city will disregard the tradition under your rule."
"I do not plan on staying in Meereen forever."
It was the first time the two had mentioned Westeros since their first conversation. Dany knew that the man understood she'd eventually turn her eye west, but didn't know his feelings towards it now. At first, it was clear he wanted nothing to do with a Targaryen on the throne, but things had changed between the two. The bit of tension was still there, but they had come to an understanding for the most part. Dany didn't need Orin Stark's support, but she would be grateful for it.
"How can I help you?"
Remembering why he'd come, Orin straightened. "I'd like to leave."
His words startled her as she too soon sat down. "Leave?"
"I've been in Essos for too long," Orin tried to explain. "I need to go home."
"Home?" Dany repeated. She knew little of Orin Stark's life, but knew there wasn't anything to go home to. "And where would that be exactly?"
Shrugging his shoulders was all Orin could do. "I don't know. But I can't avenge my family from here."
"So you wish to return home and kill everyone who's hurt you alone, which from my understanding is quite a lot. Forgive me but that doesn't sound like a good idea."
"It's not," Orin agreed. He looked at her expectantly. "Do you have a better one?"
"Stay."
The two sat frozen staring at each other after her answer. One word held so much meaning for the both of them as they stared down one another. For the first time since they'd met, Dany could finally see him. She saw past his name, past his scars, and past whatever tension they held between them. She wanted him here, and she wanted his help.
"Stay?" Orin repeated.
"Stay here, and when the time comes I promise you we will bring justice to those who have wronged us. You have my word."
The two shared a common enemy and Dany hoped that would be enough to sway him.
"Why would you help me?" Orin asked.
Smiling softly as his confusion, Dany leaned forward. "You are not my enemy. And perhaps helping you get justice for your mother will undo some of the horrors my family inflicted on yours. I cannot bring them back, but I can see the ones responsible pay. Swear me your sword Orin Stark, and I promise we will avenge Ashara Dayne together."
