The Last Hope for Westeros
CastleColin, cmyatt01, Longclaw_1_6
Chapter 35: Fire and Blood
Summary:
1) Daenerys and Jon reunite in Astapor.
2) Joffrey gets acquainted with and his arse kicked by his Night's Watch brothers.
3) Alysanne is introduced to Jon and requested to assist in the deal for the Unsullied.
4) Lysa receives good news from Catelyn and bad news from Petyr.
5) Jon and Daenerys free the Unsullied as she did alone and once before.
Longclaw: Hi everyone. Sorry for the long delay. Been busy (Finished my story Empire of Ice and Fire, be sure to check it out). Gonna be starting to update more this week.
Things are heating up. Jon and Dany are putting their plans into work, the baby is close to coming, and the rest of Westeros is on the cusp of the war to end all wars.
Also, just want to give a shoutout to some new GoT stories that I think are awesome: one's called From the Ashes Begin Anew by bykim0120 - it's an alternate telling of Aegon's Conquest; another is called Wolves of War (on ) by my good friend GulfYankee23 that's a post season 8 ressurection/reconciliation fic; one is a unique spin on the post-season 8 time travel to fix the past plotline (hint, it isn't Jon or Dany going back) called Howl of the Dragonwolves by my other good friend Elphaba818; and the other is a season 8 fix-it called The Kingdom of Ice and Fire (on ) by my other good friend WhiteWolf04, starts off slow but I have assurances the plot will be awesome. All are really, really good! Check them out :D
CastleColin: The Three-Headed Dragon has returned to Slavers' Bay! We all know exactly what that means. Hopefully, it will go smoother this life around.
Cmyatt01: Sorry it took me so long to update here - I have no real excuse. If you would like to view this chapter with the moodboards, please check this story out (as well as our others) on AO3 (Archive Of Our Own)
Daenerys Targaryen
Bricks and blood built Astapor, and bricks and blood her people. Daenerys thought of the words that summed up the Slaver City of Astapor that she now returned to… but in this life. The city that the Good Masters ruled over was the most ramshackle and frankly, the poorest of the cities that the banner of the Harpy still flew over. Apparently, the Unsullied just weren't very appealing on the auction block. Yet, their infamous reputation as fearless, soulless warriors contradicted that notion. Wouldn't anyone with the purse of gold heavy enough want at least a century of these eerily silent, inhumanly subservient soldiers at their disposal? If anything, they shed the blood on the bricks that rose Astapor on this corner of Slavers' Bay.
Daenerys mulled this enigma over as she squinted out to sea. She was standing on the docks of Astapor, waiting for Jon and Davos to return from Valyria with what her husband had dreamt of to forge his new sword. Robb was beside her, also eager to reunite with his brother. Ser Jorah stood on her other side, watching the bustle on the ships loading and unloading cargo. Most of this 'cargo' were slaves captured from all over Essos and across the Summer Sea. She saw silver-haired, purple-eyed maidens from Lys… ebony-skinned, dark-haired men from the Summer Isles…. some of them she hadn't a clue on their origin. But the sight of men and women being hauled around in chains made her blood boil, especially when she heard the lash of a whip.
Thinking back to Astapor's relative poverty compared to its sister cities, she figured it was because everyone spent their gold on bed slaves from Yunkai on the way. She chuckled inwardly. After all, the only thing men like more than fighting is fucking - not that she minded in Jon's case in that regard. Whatever the reason, no man or woman would be sold like cattle when the Dragon clipped the Harpy's wings again.
Shouts rang out in the mongrel Ghiscari accent as a gang of slavers wielding sticks set upon a haggard, skeletal man who had collapsed on the ground. Thud! Thud! Thud! The sound of wood beating against flesh was sickening. Daenerys forced herself to watch and commit the faces of the gang to memory. She'd feed them to Arogon if she got a hold of them. Besides her, Robb Stark recoiled in disgust at such a barbaric sight. His sense of honor clearly held that beneath himself.
"I have to admit, Daenerys," grumbled Robb Stark. "I never really understood why slavery is outlawed in the Seven Kingdoms until I saw this godforsaken city." He kicked at a broken slave collar on the wood planks of the docks and watched it splash into the harbor. "It's utterly deplorable. Men, women, and children traded for wine, gold, whatever as if they're wine, gold, whatever." He glowered at a powdered, perfumed master ambling around in a tokar, counting the coin he'd just received from selling two young girls. They were crying loudly as the slaver led who presumably was their mother to get a better deal with a buyer than the one who bought the girls, who didn't meet his price.
"Aye, brother," she replied coolly. "That's precisely why I became the Breaker of Chains. I won't allow anyone to suffer the indignity of being treated as less than human." She glanced over at the row of crosses lining the piers. On each cross was nailed a slave, ranging from a full-grown adult to a wee child - a stark warning to any in bondage that might think of rebelling. After this sennight, never again.
Ser Jorah edged away not so discreetly. It was clear that he felt shame for selling those poachers to Tyroshi slavers. His guilt was well-deserved for a lord from a family as honorable as House Mormont. He would not make that mistake again. Not after his Hightower wife, who he had sinned for to maintain her lavish lifestyle, abandoned him so readily in his self-exile from the North. Of that, Daenerys was sure of… for his sake, not hers.
In the distance, two ships emerged out of the horizon, approaching Astapor's port. As they sailed closer, Daenerys could make out the black and gold Stag sail of Fury and the black and white Onion sail of Black Betha fluttering in the strong breeze that blew over the city. She frowned at the absence of Wraith. Why was Ser Davos' second ship missing? She hoped it hadn't been separated or worse, sunk.
"His Grace has returned," said Jorah. He watched intently to see where the the large war galley and smaller fishing galley would dock. Guessing that it would be at the quay a little way to the left of where they were, he motioned for Daenerys and Robb to follow him.
As they walked with Fury and Black Betha getting ever closer, Robb remarked, "I can't begin to speculate what Jon and Ser Davos found in Valyria. No explorer that's dared to venture there has returned alive to tell the tale. Yet, my brother did."
Daenerys smirked. "Neither can I. Nevertheless, I'm confident Jon found what he was looking for. Since he had Ser Davos to help him, so much easier. Smugglers are good at hiding their contraband, so he probably had an idea of where the dragonlords stashed their treasures."
"Ahoy, down there!" called two voices from the quarterdeck of Black Betha. Matthos and Dale waved from aboard their father's small galley as they steered it to stop alongside the quay. Releasing the anchor with a splash that sent seawater up to soak the three awaiting their arrival, they hurried to furl the sail and lower the gangplank.
Wiping saltwater from her brow, Daenerys watched the slower war galley steadily row to a stop after furling its sail. The anchor dropped with another loud splash and the gangplank dropped down onto the quay. Jon and Ser Davos emerged atop the main deck and headed down onto the docks to greet their welcome party.
"Jon!" Daenerys exclaimed as she leapt into her husband's arms, warmth returning to the world at finally inhaling his spicy northern scent. His soft lips met hers in a passionate liplock and she giggled into his mouth. Kissing him without abandon, promising much that she intended to deliver. Ah, it had been too long without his touch. She vowed to have more of him that night, alone.
"Brother!" Robb grinned, slapping Jon on the back and enveloping him in a bear hug. "You're late! We reached Astapor almost three days ago.
Jon smiled sheepishly. "Sorry about that. It took longer than expected to load what he found in Valyria." He smirked at how Robb's eyes lit up at the mention of his findings. "You'll soon see what they are."
"Why is Wraith not here?" Daenerys looked at Jon puzzled. He opened his mouth to explain, before Ser Davos cut in. The old knight had been conversing with Jorah about the state of the ships and the maintenance they'd need.
"I sent my other sons and Marya back to Westeros. My wife believed she and her younger children would be safer in White Harbor than out here." He sighed and rubbed his nose. "Frankly, I don't blame her. Even for a sailor like me, it's treacherous sailing in the waters past Volantis."
"That's understandable," Daenerys agreed. "I'd want to keep my family out of harm's way as much as I can." She smiled and teased, "I hope you didn't sneak anything aboard from Valyria to sell back in Westeros." She meant it as a jest, but Davos took it seriously.
"Of course not, Your Grace. Everything we brought back stays with us until you or Jon say otherwise."
Jon took a moment to fully process his surroundings. Daenerys could tell he liked none of what he saw. She cleared her throat to get his attention. "Well, now is the time to free the Unsullied. From what you told me back in Qarth, Grey Worm should be here by now."
"Aye, Dany." Jon nodded confidently - he wrapped an arm around Dany's bulging waist, hugging him to her possessively. Gods, she loved him so. "There's no one else better suited to lead the Unsullied."
"By the way, brother," Robb interjected. Jon raised an eyebrow at his brother's sudden interruption. It seemed particularly urgent. "We have new guests. You should meet them before making your purchase." He grinned slyly. The Good Masters would be paid back a hundred times over for their goods.
"Guests?" Jon asked. Hearing that from Robb threw him off for a moment.
"I'll introduce you to them," Daenerys promised. "They are allies and have come bearing… intriguing news, so to speak."
"Always enjoyed meeting new people," said Davos. "A highlight of my smuggling career."
Jorah was watching Matthos and Dale fiddle around with Valyrian steel sabres on the main deck of Black Betha . Turning to the others, he elected to stay behind and watch the ships in case some thief tried to sneak aboard. Daenerys gave him leave before tugging on Jon's arm to lead him to where the khalasar was camped.
Mixed feelings were churning in her. She was elated to finally reunite with Grey Worm and Missandei, the latter was her closest confidant apart from Jon. However, she was nervous of how to break the news of Aerys to her husband. Knowing of how he could go into a rage if he found out her twin brother wanted to steal her away, she dreaded seeing his eyes glow that fiery orange blaze. But she would have to tell him anyway. The consequences would undoubtedly be worse if he found out from Aerys himself.
My father reborn…
Joffrey Baratheon
"Sword up!" barked the instructor, a Ranger named Qhorin that everyone called 'Halfhand.' "Watch the opponent! You keep your eyes on the ground again and I'll cut your balls off!"
Freezing mud soaking into his leathers and shoes, making him feel slimy, Joffrey bit his tongue. Knowing after the last several bruises dotting his stomach not to complain, especially not to the senior brothers of the Night's Watch. Facing a boy several years older than him by the name of Edd - not that he cared - he charged, wild swings pushing him back…
"OWW!" A blow to the side from another boy named Pypar sent Joffrey toppling to the ground. Slipping on the iced-over ground to land in the churned mud that hadn't yet froze. "Fuck you, peasent shit!"
While Edd and Pyp simply laughed, Halfhand rolled his eyes. "Get up, stupid."
Groaning, Joffrey moved to push himself out of the mud - forcing himself not to burst into tears as he had the first week back after leaving Eastwatch, picked up by other rangers after the mystery prisoner with the strange words dumped him there. Only for another recruit named Rast to jab his training blade hard into Joffrey's stomach. Both causing him to retch his breakfast onto the cold ground and squelch back in the mud. "Crown Prince," Rast spat. "More like Mud Prince." He laughed. "Here's a crown for the Prince of the Mud." Joffrey felt a clump of wet dirt splatter atop his golden hair.
"Enjoy your crown, Prince of the Mud," Edd smirked, slapping forearms with Pyp. Only the sadists liked Rast among the new recruits, but none liked Joffrey.
Blinking back hot tears - the only part of Joffrey that weren't cold - he lashed out with the sword. Attempting to hit someone but only making him look more pathetic. "I'll kill you all!"
"Save the killin' for the wildlings, recruit." Even Qhorin backed away, adopting a deferential posture as Master-at-Arms Alliser Thorne strode onto the training grounds. Fourth-in-command after Lord Commander Mormont, First Ranger Benjen Stark, and Maester Aemon, he was tough but earned respect from most that served under him. "And get the fuck up, Stag shit. Do you think the damn Frostfangs or Thenns'll give you the chance to cry like a bitch - probably'll chop ya' up and eat you first, boy'o." And he was a Targaryen loyalist. A firm Targaryen loyalist.
Joffrey's anger was still boiling. "Thorne, you hedge knight dog! Punish these men in the name of your rightful Crown Prince!"
Jaw dropping slightly, eyes twinkling with mirth, Thorne turned to Qhorin. "Hear that, Halfhand? He's giving orders to me." At the smirk on Qhorin's face, Thorne now looked at the other recruits, all of them mere weeks from swearing their oaths to the Night's Watch. "The 'Crown Prince' has ordered me to punish you. What should I do? Rack? Lash? Or just kick the shit out of ya'?"
Giving each other looks, Edd glanced down at Joffrey before answering for the group. "Would take far more time for the Master-at-Arms to fetch anything than he should give. Do the last option."
"Fair enough." A mere moment passed before Thorne's face contorted into a snarl, foot lashing out to smash into Joffrey's gut. "Fuck you! You're a fucking disgrace to the Red fucking Keep you little Stag Shit!" Another kick, this time right in the balls, Joffrey wincing and dry heaving from the pain. "Your fucking, whoring father took away the greatest King I've ever known, and you think you can fucking tell me what to fucking do?" He delivered another kick to Joffrey's side, the last of the contents of his stomach heaved onto the ground.
"What's going on here?!" All eyes - many stopping at what they were doing to watch the show put on by their Master-at-Arms - shifted to the balcony of Castle Black. There was the Lord Commander himself, grizzled facade glancing down upon Thorne with a disgusted face. "Who did this to that boy?"
"I did," Thorne admitted easily. "And I enjoyed it, was a long time coming for this little shit."
Jeor nodded upon seeing Joffrey, the former Prince wiping the mud off his face to expose his golden hair. "Get back to your tasks. That's an order." With that, he disappeared into his chambers.
Spitting on Joffrey, Thorne's sneer of contempt didn't disappear. "Privy duty for the next four days, all except when it's time to train - starts now." Barking at the rest of the boys to get to their duties around the keep, Joffrey finally had a chance to push himself up. Unable to stop his tears, he began to trudge towards the trough to wash himself off. "Hey, I didn't say you could get off your duty. Grab a bucket and get the fuck up to the privys!"
I'm gonna kill you all when I get my throne back! But for once, Joffrey held his tongue. Battered so many times until even the cat going for the fish would learn to be cautious of the smack it would get each time. Mud still dripping from his body, Joffrey gritted his teeth and let his hate and desire for vengeance to drive him forward. Grabbing the bucket and lugging it up the steps. Wincing each step from the bruises inflicted by his 'brothers.'
A cold wind blew down from the Wall, Joffrey shivering violently. Each chatter of his teeth aggravating his injuries. Fucking cold. Fucking father. Hobbling down the balcony, two hushed voices from within the Lord Commander's quarters caught his ear.
"...not tell the men of this." The voice of Lord Commander Mormont. Joffrey would know it anywhere.
The wary voice of Maester Aemon was also one he'd not soon forget. "Five thousand wildlings through the Nightfort with our approval would cause a mutiny."
Joffrey's eyes widened. Everyone hates the wildlings. Since he hated everyone, that was one source of common ground he had - the only time the other boys didn't beat him up were when they all groused about the wildlings.
"Ned Stark is moving them to the Gift as we speak. Once out of there they are Lord Umber's problem - think they'll support the Targaryens?" Targaryens?
"If Mance supports my great-nephew and great-niece, then they will. Ned going there personally for his son and gooddaughter will be respected by them, no doubt."
"Good." At the sound of steps towards the door, Joffrey ambled away. Making sure not to be seen. Niece… Daenerys Targaryen? His own father had yelled about the living Targaryens enough for him to remember the name and connection. If that fool Jaqen does what I bid him to do, she won't be a problem. But what was this about a nephew… son of Ned Stark? But if they were the ultimate masterminds of the wildlings, no one would give a crap. Targaryen Thorne would likely cheer.
Cursing the entire Night's Watch for the thousandth time this week, Joffrey merely went about his privy duty. Better than getting the shit kicked out of him again that day.
Alysanne Sand
It had been sudden. One moment she was sharing supper with her mother, the next Alysanne was being escorted by the Sand Snakes to the tent of the King and Queen. In the distance the massive pyramids and glittering statues of the great harpies loomed, glistening in the light of sunset. She had never been to Slaver's Bay, but their reputation for brutality preceded them. A shiver passed through her delicate frame, only just now beginning to swell with her pregnancy.
"Easy, little one," she murmured. Calming her babe as she entered. Her eyes quickly widened at the masculine figure standing by the roaring fire. "Your Grace." Alysanne moved to bend the knee, but was stopped by the firm hand of King Aegon.
"Don't, my Lady." He had kind eyes. Kind, grey eyes. Slight but tough build, raven hair… Alysanne had enough contact with members of the Company of the Rose to know northern looks when she saw them. "So, it is true. You are my aunt by my… grandfather."
Alysanne nodded, biting her lip. "And you are Rhaegar's son by Lyanna." He seemed to tense. "The northern looks… it's rather obvious."
Rising, her pregnant belly close to popping, Daenerys wrapped her arms around Aegon. "She has a point, my love."
Nodding, Aegon motioned to a plain wooden chair. "I am Aegon Targaryen, the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms… though I'd be perfectly fine with you calling me Jon. It's my northern name… the name of my mother's heritage, and the name I had when my wife fell in love with me." Daenerys beamed and kissed his cheek, and even Alysanne couldn't smile. They were clearly a very loving couple - like she and Aerys… long before. "Daenerys told me many things, but I want to hear it from you personally." He motioned to her. "Start at the beginning."
And so Alysanne told him the entire story. Aerys' birth, her birth, the mysterious change in her husband and half-brother's personality. Her escape and all that had happened when facing the blue dragon… Ragnar. She watched Jon's expressions throughout, a mix of emotions. Anger, confusion, utter bewilderment, and… sadness.
At the end, the normally stoic Jon Targaryen was close to tears. Shifting eyes away, getting up and walking to gaze at the fire, he didn't move even as Daenerys touched his shoulder. "All this time…" His voice was hoarse. "I thought we were the last of our house."
"Apparently not," Daenerys said, hugging him from behind. "But this is… terrifying. We never experienced this before. Our plans, they are already obsolete without our foresight."
Brow rising, it was Alsyanne's turn to be bewildered. A feeling that increased when Jon spoke. "Perhaps that is why your memories didn't come back fully to you. Something wrong with Melisandre's ritual in your past?"
"Excuse me, but I am confused." Eyes shifted to her, wary and sad. "What… what will happen to me."
Daenerys leaned down, hugging her. "You are our family, Alys. The Last Dragons."
"I trust Ser Barristan, and spoke with him earlier," Jon replied. "He vouches for you, and thus you will be our honored guest." He smiled. "We'll explain everything, I promise. No need to be confused. But there is something you could help us with."
"Name it," Alysanne murmured. In the embrace of her sister, full of love and warmth, she finally felt like she belonged.
"We need your help, for purchasing the Unsullied."
Kraznys mo Nakloz was a cruel man. Alysanne never met him, and her sister and nephew truly didn't speak of him more than in dismissive words, but it was clear he was trying to say something. To send a message to the Targaryen do gooders that arrived on his doorstep. A seaside road leading to his palace on the tip of a narrow peninsula. Close to the city market, bustling with people both freeborn and slave. But it wasn't simply the market that the giant statue of the holy Ghiscari harpy overlooked.
A solid line of slaves, bound to crosses and crucified - left to die. Some lucky ones had their limbs broken and had already passed into the afterlife. Most, however, were left to burn in the sun and die of exposure. Many badly beaten. Alysanne wanted to vomit at the sight.
"I thought I've seen everything." Even the arrogant and handsome Ser Jaime Lannister was appalled, forced to look away. "At least the men butchered in battle have a fighting chance." At least the men Aerys burns die within moments. The last year or so with him, after his pilgrimage to Old Valyria, Alysanne learned to live for those small comforts.
Her hand went to her stomach, willing the babe within to calm. "How could men do this to other men?" Most of the masters that passed by didn't even give the crucified slaves didn't even spare them a glance. The ones that did… either spat or threw rocks with laughter, or browbeat their own slaves over them.
Barristan opened his mouth to speak when Daenerys answered for him. "The walk of punishment. Made to show the slaves of Astapor exactly what fate has in store for them if they resist or disobey." She had a faraway look, only snapping out of it when Jon hugged her from behind. Anger clouding his face as he pressed a kiss against her forehead. Turning in, snuggling her pregnant body into him for a few seconds, Daenerys suddenly motioned to her bloodriders. Barking something in Dothraki.
They each handed her their waterskins, jostling with liquid. She kept one, Jon getting the other - and the King handing the third to Alysanne. The implication was obvious… one that she gladly accepted. Both her nephew and sister looked her over with appreciative eyes, all three approaching those upon the crosses. One, a young woman, turned to the violet-eyed girl. "Ivestragī…" she murmured, parched. "Nyke morghūljagon..." Alysanne bit her lip. Let me die.
As they leaned up on the platforms to soothe the parched throats of the condemned 'property,' Barristan stepped forward. "Please, your Graces. This isn't worth it, dealing with these monsters."
Glancing in the eye of the poor female slave, glassy from resignation to death - widened in stunned silence that someone as beautiful as the bastard daughter of House Dayne would stoop to caring about them. "Gods know what they do to the Unsullied. We can't let them have any sort of projection power." Surprised herself at how… determined she sounded, a glance at her sister found the Queen's violet eyes sparkling with… pride?
"We can defeat Aerys and secure the Golden Company. Buy all the sellswords from here to Pentos." Jaime was just as worried as Barristan, likely knowing his continued survival remained with the Targaryens.
"Sellswords? They fight only for gold, Khaleesi," Jorah countered. "And your twin… he'll be hard to defeat. Only the Unsullied would tip the balances in your favor."
"Yes," Daenerys finally answered. "Yes, they would."
"All?! Does this bitch have some sort of madness about her?" Alysanne bit her tongue, catching the insults but saying nothing. Not wanting to jeopardize the deal but arising her family's anger. Aerys had suffered greatly for such insolence… at least until he started feeding naysayers to Rhaelyx. Dany and Jon… they couldn't afford to get brutal like that.
"Her father was mad," the other Good Master stared. "His too, considering he destroyed his kingdom for a random slut."
Clearing her throat, the cowed translator spoke in the Common Tongue. "Master Kraznys feels that, given your family history, you may be speaking without seriousness." She bore the collar of a slave, and from the manner in which Kraznys mo Nakloz eyed her bust and backside, it was obvious to Alysanne the particular consequences of disobedience.
"Yes, all." Daenerys was calm but firm. "All sixteen thousand. And the boys in training, along with the non-combatants."
"You're mad."
This time it was Jon that spoke up. "Her Grace would never waste your time with an empty offer. When she says all, that means we want all." Translating in halting Valyrian, Alysanne didn't miss how his hands clasped the hilts of his swords tightly. A slight quiver of anger in his jaw. Eyes flashed orange, before a deep breath brought them back to a dark grey.
Kraznys scoffed. "Are we sure he's even a Targaryen? He even smells like a hairy savage." Before Missandei could put a diplomatic spin on it, he waved her off, continuing.
"Master Kraznys hopes that you are willing to sell off the vast majority of your Dothraki horde. They are… uncultured." Ironic, she left out the parts where the Good Masters used terms such as 'bitch,' 'gigolo,' and 'dirty horsefuckers.'
"I know you think little of the Dothraki, but they are our people," Daenerys began, Alysanne struggling to keep up with the High Valyrian words. I'll have to find a better tutor. She only brought shame to their house, just as Aerys had told her many times.
The masters burst out into mocking laughter at that. Needed no translation. "We could have sacked your city," Jon added, words sharp as Valyrian steel. "A third of our horde would have died, but we'd have won. I consider the fact we're here discussing a business arrangement to be enough to bargain with." A smirk was on his face, as if this were a game to him. In fact, Daenerys wore the same smirk.
Kraznys barked out more insults, leaning back in his chair bored. Sipping from wine a very young slave girl brought him. "If you truly wished to make a bargain, Master Kraznys says, then you should have sacked Qarth and its treasures. Your… kindness will cost you now. It is 70,000 of your Horde along with their horses, or no deal."
Well, there's the end of that. Alysanne, along with the knights, all slumped in resignation.
Their monarchs were a different story. Glancing at each other with a knowing glint, Daenerys delivered the counteroffer. "We have dragons." Alysanne's eyes widened, jaw dropping. "I'll give you one in exchange for the Unsullied." As it was translated, the masters began speaking in hushed whispers to each other.
All the knights dashed forward. "Your Grace, reconsider," Barristan pleaded.
"Aegon won the throne with dragons, not slaves," reasoned Jaime Lannister.
"Khal… Khaleesi…" Jorah had the most fearful look of all. "The dead cannot be defeated without dragons." Dead? Alysanne was shocked and confused at this point. She wanted to speak against this, but something about her sister and nephew… they just seemed too confident.
Kraznys leaned forward. "Six."
"One."
"Three."
"One."
Sweat beaded on his bald head, but he nodded. "Done."
"Oh, one more thing." Jon stepped forward, pointing at the slave translator. "The girl, Missandei." A look of surprise formed on the girl's face, her actual identity likely not one to be even given a second thought by anyone she would encounter. "She comes with us."
"Why the fuck would you want this slut?"
Another flash of orange, this time from Daenerys. Jon, however, remained calm. "My wife is having my first child. I'm… rather happy. What better present could there be than her very own handmaiden - the only ones she has now are… Dothraki." He shrugged. Daenerys happened to laugh and roll her eyes, while Alysanne smirked. The King… he was dour and brooding by nature, but had a teasing nature underneath for the ones he loved. Perhaps her brother was like that… or perhaps Lyanna Stark?
"Look at that. The gigolo is concerned with what a woman thinks." Kraznys laughed. "Probably doesn't have a large-enough cock to properly break the slave in." Nevertheless, he motioned for Missandei to go with them. "We have a deal, Dragon Whore."
Several minutes later, they found Robb outside, Ghost and Grey Wind with him. "Well, what happened?"
"Their Graces are trading one of their dragons for the Unsullied," Jaime started, still a bit shell shocked at the whole thing.
Robb looked as if he were to faint. "WHAT?" The Direwolves stilled, sensing something amiss. "Are you mad?!"
"Calm down, brother," Daenerys stated firmly. "You are family, but watch yourself."
"We are the King and Queen, so you will have to trust us. You're advising us, not ruling us." Nodding as the others stopped their words, he pointed behind Robb. "Missandei, come here." Stepping forward, the translator was visibly cowed - eyeing the direwolves with barely disguised fear. "You know what your duty is now, correct?"
"Yes, your Grace. To serve yourself and her Grace."
Smiling, Jon patted the slave on the shoulder. Very informal and friendly- Alysanne has seen enough slaves attending to the Golden Company to know such things were just not done. "I think you'll be happy in the Queen's service."
"My happiness does not matter, your Grace."
Jon frowned. "Well, it does to us." Turning to Daenerys, he brought her in a passionate kiss. A pang hit Alysanne's heart - such had been how Aerys kissed her… before he left for Old Valyria that is. "Robb and I will prepare the khalasar to march to Yunkai. Do not take too long."
"I won't, my love." Daenerys kissed him again. "Kesi ipradagon īlva havor hēnkirī, aderī."
"Nyke jurnegon naejot naejot ziry." Ignoring Alysanne's wide eyes, he motioned to Ghost. "Stay with Dany." The direwolf wagged his tail as he and Robb mounted their horses and galloped off.
The ladies were now alone, knights behind them for protection. "Follow me."
"You… you speak Valyrian?" Alysanne asked, shocked. From the look in Missandei's submissive expression, she thought the same but was conditioned to keep silent.
"Most 'men of culture' think girls weak and northerners wild savages. Sometimes it's good to play into such stereotypes.." A smirk formed on her face, a dark one. "The halting Valyrian, that was a good touch."
Alysanne hung her head in shame. "That… that is how I speak, Daenerys."
The smirk turned to a frown. "Unacceptable, you are the blood of the Dragon - I taught Aegon and you must be taught as well." She shifted to the girl. "Missandei, you can teach my sister, correct?"
"I can, your Grace." The translator's dark eyes were trained on Ghost warily.
Alysanne couldn't help but giggle. "It's fine. This is Ghost… he's harmless, if you don't wish to harm the Queen or King." Cocking his head at Missandei, the direwolf's tongue hung out of his mouth. He looked like an overgrown puppy, all furry and white and adorable. "Go ahead, pet him."
"Yes, my Lady." Missandei reached out and hesitantly petted his fur, causing the direwolf to yip. Something formed on the tip of her tongue, but Missandei quickly killed it.
Such was noticed by Alysanne, and by extension Daenerys. "You wish to tell me something?" After Missandei shook her head, Daenerys stopped, reaching up to lightly grab her shoulders. "From now on, you are to speak freely to me, my husband, and my advisors - including my sister Alysanne here." A warm, happy feeling passed through Alysanne at being accepted by her sister. "Are we clear?"
Biting her lip, the translator nodded. "It's just… how do you or his Grace know my name? Master Kraznys never mentioned it… nor knew it himself."
This brought a smile to Daenerys' face, adding to the mystery before Alysanne. "I know all about you, Missandei of Naath. You are smart, loyal, and kind, someone I hope shall be a close friend and advisor for the future." She seemed… unburdened now that the dark-skinned translator was in their service.
"But I am a slave, your Grace."
To the girl's complete shock… and Alysanne's surprise and approval, Daenerys simply unfastened her collar and tossed it in the dirt. "I free you as your mistress. You may go anywhere you wish, but I would very much like it if you served me as a free woman." Unable to respond, a hesitant smile formed on her face, falling into step behind Daenerys and beside Alysanne once again. "Missandei, the Unsullied are larger in number than I thought. Why?"
The girl answered quickly. "The Golden Company… they stopped taking bids over ten years ago. Since Yunkai and New Ghis hired them in the past, the Good Masters felt they would be better served with double the soldiers they had. It was a… busy time."
"I remember that… my mother told me just as Jon Connington was marshalling the Golden Company behind Aerys' cause." Alysanne shuddered. "They called it the Year of Blood. Thousands of slaves were shipped to Astapor only to die in the training for the Unsullied." Her fists balled together… what Aerys would call 'Waking the Dragon.' "These masters must pay for what they did."
"Valar Morghulis, mis… your Grace," Missandei said, confidence long suppressed starting to bubble to the surface. Free of her collar, neck bare to the world for the first time she could remember, there was nothing but propriety keeping her from actually speaking her mind.
"And in the Common Tongue?"
It was Alysanne that answered. "All men must die."
She saw Daenerys cast her a smirk. "But we are not men, are we dear sister?" Approaching where the bloodriders waited with their mounts, Alysanne couldn't help a smirk of her own.
Lysa Arryn
"My lady," called the Maester of the Eyrie. "A raven arrived from Winterfell. From the seal on it, I assume it's from your sister." He walked across the cold stone floor of the Eyrie's main hall over to the Lady Regent of the Vale, who was seated with a goblet of wine in hand. The maester handed the wrapped scroll over to Lysa Arryn, who accepted it with a gracious smile.
"Thank you, Maester Faroe," she responded as she took the letter from his outstretched hand. He bowed and turned to leave the room. She wasted no time in ripping the seal off, with its wolf sigil, and unrolling the parchment so quickly that a loud rip was heard. My Sweetrobyn had better arrived at Winterfell safely, or I'll have Yohn Royce's head!
Dearest sister Lysa, I am happy to inform you that Robyn arrived in Winterfell as of this letter's writing. Your son will be given all the hospitality my husband and I can offer him. Lord Royce will ensure his safety, I can assure you of that. He will also have the aid of House Stark's Household Guard if ever needed. Jory Cassel is the most exemplary captain I could ask for to keep Winterfell secure. I very much look forward to fostering the future Lord of the Eyrie and getting my children to bond with him as their cousin. I will send future letters should anything come up that I feel you should be let known. Do not hesitate to write me if you're concerned for your son's well-being at any time. Catelyn Stark, Lady of Winterfell, Queen in the North
An audible sigh left Lysa's lips as she read the first line in her sister's correspondence. She had never been to Winterfell, but had heard it was the strongest castle in the North. As long as her son was behind its walls, she felt confident he'd be safe. However… the North was a wild place with more dangerous animals roaming free than among the Mountains of the Moon. She sweated at the thought of her son being mauled by a pack of wolves on a hike through the Wolfswood. Maybe it would be best for him not to partake in any hunts or hawkings - at least not until he came of age. She would have to write to Cat about that immediately.
She swallowed another gulp of wine and laid the goblet on the stone armrest of her chair.
"My lady," called Maester Faroe again, jolting her out of her thoughts. She raised her head to see him walking briskly back into the room with another scroll in hand. "Another message for you - from King's Landing." She put her sister's letter aside and took the one from her maester's outstretched hand. He bowed his head before heading again back out the hall to presumably his quarters.
The sigil on the seal of this scroll was of a mockingbird. She smiled brightly. Her Petyr always could lift her spirits, even if only through ink on parchment. Then her grin gave way to puzzlement as she furrowed her brow, trying to figure out what he wrote her for. There wasn't anything she could recall that immediately concerned her attention, unless something new happened in the capital.
Breaking the seal and unrolling the parchment, Lysa guessed that was the reason. Petyr must have heard of something that he felt that she should know too.
My Lady Lysa, I have disturbing news to inform you of. Unfortunately, it does concern Sweetrobyn. I plead with you not to panic, for you would only make matters worse for your son. The North's independence is apparently a mummer's farce. Through my reliable agents, I have uncovered what appears to be an alliance between your sister's husband and the Mad King's daughter, who is currently in Essos. I believe that Ned Stark fears retaliation from Daenerys Targaryen's impending return and has pledged his banners to her in hopes that he and his family will be spared for the Starks' part in the Rebellion. This treason can't be tolerated, regardless of the North's official separation from the Seven Kingdoms. I do not know if Catelyn is aware of her husband's machinations, but I'm certain she would not stand for it if she did. After all, the Mad King was responsible for killing her first betrothed, Brandon. Robert has called his banners to invade the North and has requested that you dispatch the Knights of the Vale to join him. I understand that Robyn will be caught in the midst of this chaos, so I strongly advise you to answer our king's call. Your son will survive this war if his soon-to-be bannermen are among the forces marching north, who will pressure the other forces to do everything they can to spare him harm. I pray that your dear sister does not suffer consequences for her husband's conspiracy with the Targaryens, who should've died out long ago. I promise that I will do everything in my power to persuade Robert to grant leniency to our Catelyn. Yours, Petyr
"AAAAAHHHHHHH!"
The shrill, ear-piercing scream echoed through the Eyrie as the letter dropped from Lysa's hand onto the floor. Spots swam before her eyes and she started hyperventilating. She felt like she'd been struck over the head with a heavy book.
"My lady!" came an urgent shout as Maester Faroe again ran into the Eyrie's main hall with panic across his face. "Are you alright?! What happened?"
"Get me a quill, ink, and parchment, Faroe!" Lysa screeched in response. She snatched up her goblet and threw it at him. "NOW!" The wine painted a bright red slash over where it stained his robes and the goblet clattered near the Moon Door. Maester Faroe gingerly stepped near it to pick up the goblet, despite the favored execution device of House Arryn being shut tight.
As the maester retreated to get what she demanded, she sat back in her chair with her mind racing. Forget the Targaryens! Forget Ned Stark! Forget even her sister! All she could think about was her son impaled on a spear or shot full of arrows as Winterfell burned around him. She would write to her sister now and insist that she send him home to her at once! There was no chance in the Seven Hells that her sweet boy would even hear the drums of war!
Thinking back to Petyr, she slowly calmed down and her breath became more regular. Her dear Petyr was right. She'd call her banners to ride north with Robert Baratheon. No chances would be taken in getting her son back where he belonged, safe and sound. Yohn Royce would stay with Robyn. She wouldn't risk him leaving her son's side. His firstborn, Andar Royce, would lead her knights.
Upon Maester Faroe's return with her writing materials, she dipped the quill into the inkpot and set to write furiously…
Jon Targaryen
"I still do not understand, Jon," Robb whispered harshly. He was dressed in his northern-style finery, sword clipped to his belt and direwolf-emblazoned ringmail armor clinking as he walked. "We should have slaughtered these slaver scum and taken the Unsullied."
"You worry too much, Robb," Jon laughed in response. His eyes looked at the rattling cage draped with a cloth and atop a large wagon. A screech came from inside. Calm, Arogon. Kepa is here, he'll make sure no one hurts you. The screeching stopped, though the cage still rattled.
He peered at the King with a look of incredulity. "A dragon? You're seriously going to give them a dragon?"
While his brother looked like a powerful King of Winter, Jon stood tall and resplendent - aside from the grey eyes and raven curls spilling over his shoulders, he looked every inch a Valyrian dragonlord. From the library/armory in Old Valyria, a set of dragonscale Valyrian steel armor now hugged his every muscle. Red cloak tied over his shoulders, he had added a black tunic and boots underneath the armor. Red and black, the colors of his house. Surrounding him were Jaime, Ser Barristan, and Nymeria Sand, along with the ever faithful Grey Wind. Waiting outside in the courtyard of Kraznys mo Nakloz's palace, lines and lines of Unsullied standing firm ahead of them. He gazed in awe at the powerful warriors he had fought alongside in his past life… and burned with hate at the overseers stepping between the centuries, whips in hand.
Head turning to Robb, Jon narrowed his eyes. "Did I ever tell you the story of how Daenerys acquired the Unsullied?"
Robb furrowed his brows. "No. You just told me she did."
The scowl slowly turned into a wolfish smirk. "You're going to enjoy this." A dark chuckle. "I'm honored that I shall be involved." Steps scuffing along the stone behind him, both the Targaryen and Stark turned to find the rest of their party, save for Ser Davos, who was at his reading lessons with Shireen. He told them that he had seen enough fire lately, and would no doubt see plenty more upon returning to Westeros. Obara and Tyene stood joined by Ser Jorah, Ghost, and their bloodriders, shepherding the most precious people in Jon's life. Ashara Dayne bore a rather modest, purple Dornish dress - he didn't really know her, but anyone who was the mother of his aunt was his family to protect. Alysanne wore a simple black dress, exposing the cleft of her ample chest to all. She was a Targaryen beauty that Jon would already plunge into the seven hells to protect, but the King saved his wandering eyes for only one.
Matching her pregnant figure in a look that radiated power while also enticing her King, Queen Daenerys clearly bore the air of a great Targaryen Queen - Visenya or Rhaenyra. Dark Sister was slung along her back as the train of her black and red dress dusted the stone. Her hair drawn into the same intricate braids that Jon remembered from their first meeting. Gods… That image had haunted his dreams for years.
On her left was the still docile and cowed Missandei - hopefully that would change, since the strong and determined Naathi translator had been an indispensable ally in the withdrawal to Pentos in his past life - and the smirking Melisandre. But both stood with the rest of the group as Daenerys approached him. "My Queen," Jon bowed, smile on his face.
His wife's determined expression shifted to a smile of her own as she attempted a curtsey - hard for her, considering the swell of their son. "My King." Dany leaned up and kissed his cheek. "I'm happy you're here, my love."
"So am I." He moved his mouth to her ear. "To be honest, I loved you telling this story since it always turned me on." The Queen drew back, sultry smile on her lips and a glint in her eye - they would be tearing each other's clothes off as soon as they got alone, Jon was sure of it now.
But as Kraznys mo Nakloz entered the courtyard holding the golden whip of command, the moment would have to be postponed. "Robb," Daenerys said. "Go stand by the cage." Brow raising quizzically, he nevertheless did as bidded. "Are we ready for our arrangement?" she asked Krazys, translated through Missandei.
He sneered. "Give me what is mine, and the arrangement will be consummated." There was a burning greed in his eyes. One Jon was quite familiar with, what he knew Dany was familiar with. "Where's my dragon?!"
Daenerys nodded. "Aegon, bring him here."
As Jon complied, armor clinking on the surface of the courtyard, he could hear the mocking laughter. "Weak girl-man taking orders from a woman." He ignored it, continuing till he opened the cage. Hand on the rope that served as Arogon's leash, a calm coaxing through their connection preventing his wife's hybrid dragon from destroying their enemies as of yet. Poking his head through the lip of the cage, Arogon emerged. Sunlight glinting off his shiny red scales as he screeched, flapping into the air. Kraznys gaped at Jon and the dragon, eyes lighting up. " Bring him here! Bring me what's mine!"
Gingerly ascending the steps, Jon handed the dragon off to Dany, who took the rope to Kraznys. Gods, what must it have been like for the young and alone pretender to the throne? Pulling this stunt off? Jon felt his love and admiration for his warrior Queen soar. "Is it done?" Dany asked, whip in hand as Kraznys tried to corral the mighty dragon.
"The army belongs to the bitch and her gigolo," he replied through Missandei, smiling like a kind caught in a jaw of sweets. "And now I am Dragonmaster!" The Dragonmaster didn't seem to master the dragon very well, observed Jon. Arogon screeching and flapping his wings with a mix of irritation and rage. Meeting eyes with Dany, he saw them form into an icy blue. Calm. A cold fury, buoyed by the knowledge that justice was to be done.
"Is this it?" Robb asked with a hiss. "You're just going to let him take Arogon?"
"It's madness," Ashara observed, though Alysanne was quiet. Waiting for the show to begin. "Your Grace?" Dany and Jon walked right by her to gaze out at the mass of Unsullied.
He looked at the whip in her hand, feeling the same revulsion to it that she undoubtedly did. Daenerys reached out to him with her free hand, grounding them both as history repeated itself. The time for this mummer's play was over. "Dovaogēdy!" she yelled. The soldiers crashed to attention, while many pairs of eyes among their own advisors and guards widened. Didn't know she could speak Valyrian. Jon smirked. "Naejot memēbagon!" The thousands of black leather clad hoplites began to march. "Keligon!" They halted in place as one.
Arogon screeched loudly, Jon turning his head to see Kraznys struggle to hold him in place. "Ivestragon se aspo zirȳla dyni kessa daor māzigon," he snarled at Missandei.
Now it was Jon's turn. "Zaldrīzes buzdari iksos daor," he boomed in High Valyrian. He was sure Robb's eyes had popped from their sockets in shock. No one but Dany knew of how she and Missandei had taught him till he was fluent in his past life, and they rarely spoke their mother tongue outside the bedroom.
Slowly, realization dawned on Kraznys' face. "Ao ȳdragon Valyrīha?" Face paling as he stared at Dany and Jon.
"Ao iōragon gō Aegon Vīlībāzma se Daenērys Jelmāzmo hen Targārien Lentor! Anogar hen uēpa Valyria iksis isse īlva! Valyrīha iksis īlva muña ēngos!" Gods, Jon had never wanted to make love to her more since their wedding night.
But they had work to do. Taking the whip from her hand, Jon thrust it into the air. " Dovaogēdy! ossēnagon se āeksia. Ossēnagon se mentyr. Ossēnagon tolvie vala qilōni holds iā qilōny, yn ōdrikagon daor riña." At his command, the overseers found Unsullied spears ran through their stomachs. Centuries marching into the city to carry out their new King's orders.
Kraznys was apoplectic at this point. "Ossēnagon se aspo! Ossēnagon zirȳla sir!" Freeborn guards suddenly charged towards the two monarchs, curved swords waving around in a wild attack. Bad idea.
Within moments Ghost and Grey Wind had jumped two, screams dying in a gurgling mass of blood as the direwolves ripped their throats out. Robb, the Sand Snakes, and the Kingsguards had their swords out, engaging closely with every guard they saw. Three though had managed to break through to the Targaryen royals. Dawn and his castle-forged longsword were already out and at work. Jon slashed both right across the front of one of the guards - his leather armor sliced open like paper by the razor sharp blades. A clash of steel rang out as the second guard lunged… only for Jon to block it, twirl around and slice his sword hand off. Kicking the screaming master down with a sharp kick.
Dark Sister spun around her wrists, the pregnant Targaryen Queen took two parries before batting aside the attacker's blade and burying the Valyrian steel into his midsection. The blade glinted with blood in the sun as she raised it high. Ordering the remaining Unsullied in the courtyard - Jon swore he could see Grey Worm at the vanguard. "Pryjagon se belma hen tolvie buzdari ao ūndegon!"
"Bisa iksis ribazmoqitta!" Kraznys shrieked.
Melisandre looked completely calm during the entire scuffle. "Bantis zōbrie issa se ossȳngnoti lēdys, āeksio Kraznys." Jon knew she was just waiting to proclaim it to the world.
Now, it was just Kraznys and his cohorts staring down him and Daenerys. "Kostā daor gaomagon bisa!"
Glancing Dany's way, Jon nodded. Delighted that he could enjoy this moment with her. Their eyes glowed a merciless blue. "Suvion!" Irritation turning into a roar of defiance, Arogon reared back his head to unleash a torrent of ice upon the foolish man that thought he could enslave a dragon as he did his fellow human beings. Kraznys screamed as the ice began to quickly turn his flesh into frozen meat, death painful but creeping upon him.
Gazing at the other masters, both monarchs felt their hate rising - remembering the crucified innocents. Blue turning to a pulsing orange."Dracarys!" Arogon didn't need to be told twice.
Fire and blood had come for the Masters of Slaver's Bay.
Notes:
CastleColin: The Targaryen army is complete. Joffrey's getting his comeuppance. Lysa's panicking as usual. We're very curious to see how this all adds up.
Translations:
Kesi ipradagon īlva havor hēnkirī, aderī - We will dine together soon
Nyke jurnegon naejot naejot ziry - I look forward to it
Dovaogēdy. Naejot memēbagon. Keligon - Unsullied. Forward march. Halt
Ivestragon se aspo zirȳla dyni kessa daor māzigon - Say to the bitch her beast won't come
Zaldrīzes buzdari iksos daor - A dragon is not a slave
Ao ȳdragon Valyrīha - You speak Valyrian
Ao iōragon gō Aegon Vīlībāzma se Daenērys Jelmāzmo hen Targārien Lentor! Anogar hen uēpa Valyria iksis isse īlva! Valyrīha iksis īlva muña ēngos - You stand before Aegon Warborn and Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen! Blood of Old Valyria is in us! Valyrian is our mother tongue
Dovaogēdy! ossēnagon se āeksia. Ossēnagon se mentyr. Ossēnagon tolvie vala qilōni holds iā qilōny, yn ōdrikagon daor riña - Unsullied! kill and masters. Kill and fleet. Kill every a man who holds a whip, but harm not children
Ossēnagon se aspo! Ossēnagon zirȳla sir - Kill the bitch! kill her now
Pryjagon se belma hen tolvie buzdari ao ūndegon - break the chains of every slave you find Bisa iksis ribazmoqitta - This is madness
Bantis zōbrie issa se ossȳngnoti lēdys, āeksio Kraznys - The Night is dark and full of terrors, master Kraznys
Kostā daor gaomagon bisa - you can't do this Suvion - freeze
Longclaw: It was so fun writing the Joffrey section. He's getting exactly what he deserves - Sansa's enjoyment of his suffering is pretty much on the money. Alysanne... she's pretty much a Targaryen as much as she is a Dayne. While Jon and Dany are shocked at the huge changes from their past lives, she is a good person and thus both of them would be happy to have more of their family - they aren't the last Targaryens after all. The Astapor scene was pretty perfect on it's own, so most of what I focused on was more of how the presence of Jon and the others affected Dany. You'd have to imagine seeing Dany dressed in Targaryen colors and Jon in full armor kicking ass and taking names. Plenty of that is coming up.
Cmyatt01: Sorry for the formatting