Chapter 9

Holy Squires

Cheese Knife

"It's true, your grace," Godry said as he swallowed his food, "It's tradition. Many knights do this."

Meereen changed over the few days they spent in the hospitality of the queen. The formality of the first meeting ebbed away and with it all fear and doubt. Godry was himself again, all arrogance and laughter, the same man they'd last seen in the company of the Hundred. How happy he'd been when they were declared friends of the queen, when servants came bearing food and gifts.

"And what makes a knight choose one thing over another?" asked Missandei.

"It depends on the knight, my lady, and their life. No matter how strange the sigil, there is always a good story behind it." Melwyn said as he joined them at the table. He'd spent most of his time in the company of the Unsullied, a lifetime of curiosity led him to watch their training, how they moved and how they spoke. Melwyn had a passion for strategy, and to see Unsullied soldiers with his own eyes kept him busy.

"Ser Davos Seaworth was one of Lord Stannis' men. His sigil was of a ship with an onion on its sails," said Gerris, sharing a laugh with Godry at the Onion Knight's choice of banner.

"What will you take for your sigil, Ser Godry?"

"A spear and a horn of ale would be suitable," said Melwyn from across the table.

"Ser Melwyn here would do well to choose a Seven-pointed star for his sigil, one made of wood, on account of how holy and rigid he is," Godry bit back.

"And you Ser Gerris?" asked Missandei. She was a curious girl, full of little questions that kept them all amused.

"I do not know, my lady," he admitted, "I'll ride under Godry's banners. It wouldn't do to let him look the fool all by his lonesome."

"Is it not tradition for knights to honor their House sigils when they make their own?" asked the queen, "Daeron the Young Dragon did so. Ser Brynden Rivers as well if I remember well."

"You do, my queen," said Melwyn, his eyes meeting Gerris' own briefly before he continued, "But these sigils can be a dangerous thing. The Young Dragon was a king, Lord Bloodraven was legitimized by one. These were two good men among many, but just as Brynden Rivers chose to serve House Targaryen, Daemon Blackfyre made his sigil a nightmare for them, something that his descendants made a habit of repeating."

The queen considered Melwyn's words, seemed to think on them before she turned to Gerris, "Will you live your entire life afraid of what others think?"

"We're knights, your grace, and we do well with steel," admitted Gerris, "But politics are beyond us. Given the choice between a banner of my own and a quiet court for you to rule, I'll choose the latter."

"There is no such thing, Jae. The best any good ruler could hope for is a loud court. I'm often reminded that only madmen rule in silence."

The conversation had taken a sharp turn. Whereas before there were laughter and amusement, there was naught but uncertainty now. Godry and Melwyn knew not to say anything, but the Dragonseed did not.

"I won't pretend to know how to rule, your grace, but a loud court serves its purpose when you set your laws, wage your wars, and make your decisions. However, in the matters of a bastard brother..." Gerris trailed off, fearing the rest of his words would sour the meal.

"He isn't wrong, your grace. No matter how honorable his intentions or actions, Westeros looks upon bastards with disdain. Regardless of the banner, you'll both have to face their displeasure," Ser Barristan's words were well-spoken, and Gerris remembered the old man served two kings and a queen, a silver tongue comes easy enough with a lifetime of practice.

"Then we shall face their displeasure together," said the queen, "And if we're to face it regardless, what say you, Jae? Would you take the dragon for a sigil?"

"You honor me, your grace."

He could think of nothing else to say that would make the offer any less uncomfortable. Gerris knew who he was, and knew what others feared him to be. His life was a testament to the cruel whims of fate. Every time he would leave one threat behind, another would rear its head. He left it at that, hoping that they would have no need to speak of it again.

"The queen has requested your presence at the war council," Missandei relayed her message from the other side of the door. Gerris met her in the hallway and followed as she led the way through the great pyramid.

"I'm not certain that I should take part in a council meeting beyond my station."

"It is our queen's wish. You are a warrior, are you not?"

Not if I sit inside this pyramid much longer.

When they arrived, the guards led the way inside. Within, Gerris bowed low and stood at the end of the table as everyone shifted and moved.

The queen was the first to speak, "We were discussing the future, Ser Gerris. I would hear what you have to say."

"I am yours to command, your grace."

"The chains I've broken have been reforged, and the people I've set free, my people, have been enslaved once more. I cannot leave Meereen or risk the same happening in my absence and the absence of my army. If I allow Slaver's Bay to return to its former disgrace, what breaker of chains am I?"

"The only one who tried, your grace," said Gerris. She smiled kindly at him then and he felt proud.

"What do you think I should do?"

"I'm hardly familiar with Essosi warcraft, your grace, I couldn't tell you what to do if I tried. But I know that the people who follow you, love you dearly. It was Slaver's Bay that gave you your armies and your power. I can promise you that the woman who broke their chains is the only hope they cling to."

"You'd have the queen risk her life and her armies retaking the cities?" The man who spoke dressed like a sellsword. Gerris spared him but a glance, his eyes fixed on the queen.

"We can look to Westeros and pretend none of this happened. We'd likely try to forget, and perhaps in the comfort of the west we might succeed. But they will not forget."

"You speak of legacy."

"I speak of being worthy, your grace, and of honor."

His words made Ser Barristan rise to his feet, and the Sellsword in the corner took a threatening step towards him, only to stop when the queen motioned for him to stand down.

"Explain yourself, Ser Gerris."

"We must be better, your grace, those who rule must be better or all is lost. If a lord pledges to protect his bannermen, he must keep his word or die trying. If he does not, he would have bannermen no more and can expect only rebellion. A promise freely given must be honored. It's as true for the smallfolk as it is for a queen. If you promised them freedom, your grace, you must honor your words."

"You'd have us march back?" asked Ser Barristan.

"Only a small force, Ser, there is no need for the army to move," said Gerris, "Your men know the cities, they know their defenses and their weaknesses. Your Unsullied are unmatched in battle. We gather all that we know and make a plan to infiltrate the walls, free the slaves, kill whoever rules, and take the city back in your name."

"You must bring them Fire and Blood, Ser Gerris." the queen's words brought a chill to his bones, "They will understand nothing less."

Gerris blinked in silence. The Sellsword spoke before he did, his question mirroring Gerris' own thoughts. "Him, your grace?"

"Can you do it?" asked the queen, "If I gave you the men, would you do this for me?"

Gerris took a deep breath, met her eyes, and nodded, "I am yours to command, my queen. I know Melwyn and Godry have been waiting for a fight."

"Then it shall be so. The army will remain here, and we will secure the freedom of the slaves before we speak of Westeros. In the meantime, Ser Gerris and his knights will lead a small force to take back what was lost."

Her advisors seemed unconvinced, save for Missandei who looked on with approval.

"By your leave, your grace, I'd like to say a prayer in private and prepare for the journey ahead."

"Of course, Ser Gerris. Grey Worm will see to it that the men who know the cities best are brought to you."

He turned to leave, but the queen called his name, Jae, not Gerris, and he stopped at the door. She walked towards him and took his hand in hers, fire found fire.

"Thank you," her parting words felt warm all the way to his quarters. They felt warm when he thought of Queen Rhaella and whether she would be pleased with him, with where he was and what he aimed to do. Here is your knight's song, sister, may it be one of victory.

Night had already fallen when he raised his head from prayer and opened his eyes. No warnings or dreams today. The Seven-pointed star in his hand, carved from wood by Ser Bonifer himself, was a comfort, one that he stood and carefully placed by his bed.

A knock on the door announced a late and unexpected visitor.

"Ser Gerris, forgive me," Missandei spoke. It seemed she was making a habit of talking to him through doors. "The queen invites you to sup with her. There are important matters to discuss before morning."

"Think nothing of it," he said as he joined her in the hallway, "I'm here to serve."

"I hope Daario's words during the meeting caused you no offense. He is wary of strangers."

"Then I shall thank him for it," with steel, fist, and nail if need be. He smiled at the girl who had been nothing but kind to him since his arrival. Missandei found him interesting, or perhaps she hoped his presence would make Daenerys happy.

"He is a good warrior, and our queen is fond of him." Gerris grimaced at her words, hearing the meaning within. He liked the sellsword even less.

"So long as he's loyal and true," and stays out of my way.

They arrived to find the queen alone in the room, a feast spread out across the table, and in the corner Daenerys stood, admiring the black armor before her.

Gerris stepped inside, his eyes fixed on armor he'd only heard about from Queen Rhaella and what was written in Dragonstone's records. Black steel adorned with rubies forming the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen.

"Do you like it?" asked Daenerys as he moved forward to admire the excellent craftsmanship.

"Is that-"

"No. I had this made for you. The smith would take no payment from the queen's brother. Ser Barristan helped. He has a good memory for his age."

He raised a hand and traced the rubies carefully, unsure whether to rejoice or mourn.

"Your grace, you honor me, but I cannot accept this."

"You're my brother, just as he was. I feared you cruel like Viserys or mad like our father. I feared you a liar and an imposter. But all you've done and said since you came, how you told me the truth I needed to hear when no one else would, for that I am grateful. When you ride out to face our enemies, they will remember, and they will tremble," She held his arm and sought his eyes, "You've honored him in ways I cannot, in ways only a warrior can. I'd have you carry his blade once again, from this day until your last."

Words eluded him, and the things he felt threatened to spill out and paint him weak. He wanted it, he wanted the armor and the honor, the sword, and the promise. He wanted it all and felt shame for it. "Until my last, Daenerys, I swear it."

"Good," she said, satisfied, "When you return, Ser Barristan shall knight you once again as Jaehaerys. You have no need to be Gerris anymore. I am with you and you have nothing to fear." She lovingly held a hand to his face, the closest I've come to family since you were born.

He could not trust his voice, dared not trust the words he would say. So he nodded and held her in his arms, her height reminding him that this was his little sister, and despite the power and strength of a queen, she was his little sister.

"Forgive me, your grace," he spoke at last, "I may have ruined your dress."

She looked to the stains on her shoulder, "I'm afraid I'll have to take these gifts back now, Ser." She squeezed his hands in her own, "Now sit and eat with me, your queen commands it."

They spoke of things that mattered little. He repeated the jests Godry would often share in the night and told her stories of his time as a squire. She spoke of the places she'd seen, the people she'd met. And though both had darkness in their past, they spared one another from it.

Later, he sat admiring the set of armor he'd been gifted. With wine in hand and quite a bit of it in his belly, he followed the pattern of glittering rubies.

"It's said he thought of prophecy and fate often," said his sister.

"I wonder if he dreamt of it," he replied, "I wonder if he dreamt of us."

"Have you?"

"I've always dreamt of you, sister," he offered with a smile, "You were always in my thoughts. But the dreams I speak of are no ordinary dreams, they are-"

"Warnings," she finished his sentence for him, and he nodded.

"I see them when I pray. Sometimes they come even if I do not, but the gods are as cruel as they are merciful."

"I doubt the gods have anything to do with it," she said, "There as many gods as there are people to worship them."

"I'm sure someone somewhere worships your dragons as gods," his words were meant to be a jest, something to take their conversation far from the topic of the seven he held so dearly.

The queen had a strange look in her eyes. She smiled, mischief coloring her features, "Would you like to see them?"

"I think I've had enough gifts for one day. but if I ever do meet them, I'd like to be sober for it, else I'd never believe my eyes."

They made use of the council chamber to make their plans. The three knights were joined by Grey Worm and three of his Unsullied, those who knew Astapor best. They stood around maps of the city and its defenses. Godry was seated at the table, a glass of wine in hand. Melwyn stood beside him, arms crossed and expression pensive, his eyes roaming the maps as Grey Worm spoke.

"They will expect the queen to send another force to reclaim the city. They sit and wait, hoping all free Unsullied would march on them and leave Meereen undefended. The masters will try to take the city if we leave."

"Perhaps this could work to our advantage, Grey Worm," said Gerris, "If we're seen marching away from Meereen, it would reveal their hand, and the Unsullied army will be waiting."

"We propose a ploy to invite their attack. We march in numbers, our small force as well as a substantial number of Unsullied. We make it seem as though the bulk of the army is not here to defend Meereen. As we journey towards Astapor, our forces split up, and the Unsullied wait here," Melwyn pointed out the forested areas far enough from Meereen as to not draw attention, but close enough to deliver an unexpected attack. "The plan is to make use of ravens and riders to know when the masters draw near. Once they push their attack, the Unsullied come around their rear and crush them against the city walls."

"They will come on ships," said Grey Worm, "They will have dozens of them in the waters, and the Unsullied would have no way to reach them."

"Then put the Stormcrows to use. Have them guard against anything that comes through the sea, and once your attack at the walls is successful, the masters will surely retreat," said Gerris.

Grey Worm contemplated the idea, exchanging a look with his officers. "This is for the queen to decide, the city is for the Unsullied to defend. We ride with you until you are on your way to Astapor, but then we wait for the queen's orders."

"You are the commander, Grey Worm," said Godry. He'd been drinking more and more ever since they set foot in Meereen. While Melwyn suspected their friend bored and restless, Jae believed Godry missed the company of the Holy Hundred. He is bitter, dissatisfied, and mourns his past.

"Speak to the queen," urged Gerris, "And whatever she thinks best shall be the plan. But our path is the same, Astapor is our prize, Meereen is yours."

Gerris glanced to the other men in the room, as rigid and unmoving as Grey Worm himself.

"You have our thanks for riding alongside us," said Melwyn, "Gerris might lead, but we all speak our mind here. Should any of you have something to say on this journey, we would urge you to say it."

"Free men make their own choices," agreed Grey Worm, his tone reminiscent, and the Unsullied in the room shifted ever so slightly.

"We shall sail for Astapor and fly no banners. We land on the Western coast and make our way into the city. The Unsullied shall lead the way until we're behind the walls. We find the slaves and we have ourselves a small army," said Melwyn.

"Pray we get there before they're all cut," Godry added, further souring the mood.

"For the queen," said Grey Worm.

"For the queen, friend," agreed Gerris. He paused and looked from one face to another, seeing nothing but resolve. He nodded, satisfied.

"Let's get to work."

"Grey Worm has respect for you," she told him later when he joined her for supper.

"And I have respect for him. A bit rigid, perhaps, but a good commander with a good head for strategy. And loyal to a fault."

"He told me about your plans. Quite clever, Jae, to draw the masters into their own trap."

"That's Melwyn's doing. He makes the plans, Godry wields the spear, and I lead the charge of steel. It's the way of the Holy Squires."

"I hope you do so with caution," her tone was that of the queen, a tone of warning. "You're valuable to our plans in Westeros. Should you charge, I hope you do so with care in Astapor."

"It's a good plan, your grace, we will bring you victory," he assured.

"Good service is always rewarded."

"I've had plenty of rewards since I found you, your grace, I need no more."

"And what of your friends?" she asked, "Ser Godry and Ser Melwyn, what is it that they desire for a reward?"

"Adventure and glory," he replied. He chuckled at the thought of a married Melwyn, as holy and cold in his marriage bed as he is on the battlefield, "A fat purse and a wife perhaps."

"Do you want a wife someday?" It was something he never contemplated until she asked. And though the idea of a wife and keep would appeal to any man, Gerris wondered if there would ever be enough time and peace for marriage. In the heart of war, there is no place for love, only duty, for nightmares are easy to find in the realms of men. He wondered if the gods would damn Stannis for those words, damn him for the bitter mark he left on his soul.

"I don't know," he said, "I was more fortunate than most, but I would never wish the Dragonseed's curse on another child." Let me be the last Targaryen bastard of this lifetime, let Dragonstone stand for something else.

"Did I not tell you he would serve loyally?"

"You've told me many things, old man, but until he gives our queen conquered cities, I'll keep to my doubts."

"How odd it must be, for a man who sells his sword for gold to pledge to a queen and then doubt her flesh and blood."

"Her father's flesh and blood. I'm no Westerosi, old man, but I know this bothers you just as much as it bothers me. And to be a sellsword, one must see if there is loyalty in a man's eyes."

"And you see none in his?"

"None for himself, plenty for his shit knights. He hates himself. That makes him a threat to the queen."

"It seems to me the Stormcrow liked his skies until the dragon came. You are jealous, Daario, and there is nothing more to it."

Quick Note: The story kinda sucks, but I promised someone that I'd see it through, Gary Stus, bad writing, and major plot holes be damned.

Think of the first three chapters as one big prologue. I intend to write through different POVs going forward. Let me know which you prefer, a Jae/Gerris centered fic that strictly follows his adventure or a story told through different characters.

If you would, please write reviews that provide constructive criticism. I really want to improve, and I can't do that unless I'm told what isn't working, what is cringy, and what should be refined.

Thanks for reading.