A Song's Wayward Stride
(A/N): I have committed a most grievous sin… Yes, the sin of being a liar… I have written another story that I plan to write alongside my Star Wars one. My reasoning for such treachery to you, my dearest readers? Simple, the story simple struck my like lightning the other night, and it spilled out of me like water freely flows in a mountain stream on a spring day… perhaps this was how Charlemagne felt when he was struck? I digress. I can only ask for your forgiveness, my readers, and hope you enjoy this story as much as my other, which I have the full intention of finishing… possibly more after even… my mind connects these ridiculous stories in my head that I can't help but put down for you to enjoy. Well, I hope it's enjoyment…. If not, I apologize for being such an atrocious writer and freely ask you to flay me verbally when we cross paths in life.
And with that, I hope to excite your imaginations and allow you a moment of comfort from our turbulent world.
Much love—Axvo
The rhythmic sounds of hammer meeting it's closest of acquaintances (the anvil) rung around the steaming forge, until the noise stopped abruptly. Small buckets sat around filled with water, a large set of bellows was positioned directly over the hearth, and a man huddled over the heated coals, silently awaiting his project to reach appropriate temperatures. No noise could be heard but the low crackle emanating from the forge and steady breathing escaping from the smith's nose. Any observer would never be able to tell that the man was awaiting purely on instinct, countless hours of labor had honed his skills to such a degree where the metal spoke to him in ways another would surely miss; his eyes were no longer necessary.
The moment arrived.
In an unprecedentedly swift motion the man lunged his gloved hand into the flame and yanked out the super-heated blade, with no hesitation he placed it back upon the anvil and began again his work, shaping this harbinger of death into being, giving life to that which will take. But a tool for evil can also be used for good, or so the young man liked to believe. He hoped dearly his weapons were used for protecting, not taking the lives of the innocent; but he knew such suppositions were all allusive and idealistically trite concepts, his weapons were assuredly used to shed the blood of the defenseless. But he was skilled at what he did, and it allowed his mind a curtain of reprieve, a task where he was allowed to work on instinct alone while he could allow his wandering thoughts free reign. Can a lone soul possibly commit to that which they believe when they have no one to connect with?
The blade was nearing its finishing touches, the final quench was approaching, and it left a sort of melancholy in the young man. A finished sword was a good thing, it reflected the skill and work he would place into it, so it was a good in its own way, but it always felt he lost a bit of himself when someone walked away with his completed works. Did they know the toil he placed in shaping the blade, the hours of relentless effort he needed to commit to make sure the blade was perfectly balanced with its softness, hardness, sharpness, length, diameter… the list went on endlessly in his mind. There was little doubt that every blade echoed a piece of the his very soul, proclaiming to all that are revealed its surface that he was the creator, and no other blade would possibly match up to its exquisite beauty, nor deadliness.
While these thoughts careened from side-to-side inside the smith's mind, the sword was finished. A bastard sword, simple in its form, but the fruits of his efforts showed. The blade was a single meter long that had a perfectly sharpened edge stained a dark coral color, quite a contrast to the inner sea-green of the metal that reflected his eyes back at him. The handle mirrored the blade well, where guard and pommel matched the outer edge of the blade, the grip's metal and even the leather wrappings were matched to the inner portion.
Taking his creation over to a large, solid piece of steel he had over to the side, he swung it horizontally with a lazy flick of his wrist, bisecting the once complete block of metal. The high-pitched hum sent its inharmonious sounds around the area of his open-air forge. Several citizens passing by took a moment to gawk at the blade he was examining closely. Not a blemish touched the surface. Perfection.
Whistling a lazy tune, he picked up a common scabbard for the blade, one he planned to finish working on later, and closed the blade in. Lowering his head to the sword, whispering words that seemed incapable of disturbing even the air—a silent prayer of a wanderer to those the blade would come to impact.
"Are you sure this is the place?"
The voice broke the smith from his isolated stupor, it was a female voice, one rich in youth, but cut from the cloth of an individual who had taken the mantle of leader, but it was a symphonic voice to the smith's weary ears, something about it drew him in instinctively and free of restraint.
"Aye, Khaleesi, the sign there, see it?" 'Uzumaki Blades' was written in Valeryian on a leaf-green sign in rust colored characters. "Every person from pauper to lord in Qarth sings of this man's skill. You asked me to find you skilled individuals, and not only does this man seem to make weapons that are whispered to be superior to Valeryian steel, but he holds no allegiances. I've heard tellings that his past is shrouded in mystery, so I suggest we seek answers before long, if he is agreeable to your invitation."
"Your advice is noted and taken, Ser Jorah. And I do believe he will be… agreeable."
The smith's curiosity piqued, he set down the blade against his anvil and waited with his arms folded for the figures to approach. They assumed he had failed to hear their conversation, they had used lowered voices, but with hearing as keen as his own, it was hardly his fault he found himself eavesdropping on what they discussed. He would not blame them for caution, he actually respected them greatly for the forethought, not that it was astounding in this blood-filled world.
Daenerys Targaryen approached the tall smith that stood shirtless, he was young, possibly only a year or two her senior, his arms crossed over his sweaty and heavily sun-tanned chest. Numerous stab and slash wounds covered his arms and torso, corded muscles covered these previously wounded areas, but one old wound that stood out in particular was a truly grizzly site. Directly to the side of where his heart would be was a massive scar that looked as if a hole had been blown straight through him. How does someone survive such a lethal wound? she pondered inwardly before continuing to size him up. His hair was long, coming down well below his shoulders, it seemed to mirror the sun itself in its color, and his eyes bore into her. The color of piercing orbs seemed to make the sky pale with their vibrancy, but they were also flecked with a strange golden pigmentation that swirled in their depths. The oddest feature he possessed? That would be the unusual markings on his cheeks that closely resembled a feline.
The smith examined them in return, Jorah was a man nearly as tall as him, strong in build, light clothes adorned his body to stave off the heat, and the picture of a bear was stitched into his shirt. His hair was a sandy blond, though slightly receding, he had a weathered face, but there was a steadfastness behind his eyes that the smith related to well.
The beauty next to Jorah captured his attention.
Silver locks spilled down her back, eyes that seemed to be chiseled and formed from amethysts bore into him calculatingly, trying to divest his secrets from appearance alone. Her face was shaped in perfect symmetry, and the light blush from the heat made her all the more attractive in his eyes. A simple but elegant dress draped her body, clearly of high class, but allowing for ease of movement.
"Hello, travelers, looking to place an order?" his voice was amiable, free of any concern or worry, the picture of hospitality.
"No, nothing like that, master smith. My companion and I are here to inquire about… other matters," Daenerys responded smoothly, her velvety voice sent a shiver down her interlocutor's spine.
She approached his forge and examined his tools and hearth, no particular interest being shown, but something was operating behind her eyes that he found mysteriously enchanting.
Jorah approached his anvil where he still stood, he had yet to move but an inch, his eyes tracing along Daenerys path transfixed, while the ever loyal man had been drawn by the sword resting against the anvil.
"May I?" he asked out of courtesy.
Startled slightly, the smith glanced over, "Huh? Oh, yeah, knock yourself out, my good man. Let me know what you think."
Jorah palmed the elegant handle, something about the blade felt right in his hands, as if the blade had been shaped and intended to be held by him, that no one else would ever understand this blade the way he felt he did in this moment. Excitement coursed through his veins in a way he had not experienced in years, wrapping his fingers around the leather, he freed the blade from its confine, a hum met the air as the metal sped through it.
"This…" it was perfect, not only in its craft, but in his hand, this blade whispered to him, telling him to stand true to his convictions, to fight for the woman he cared for and loved, to stand for what he believed in for the rest of his time.
"I take it you approve, Ser Jorah?"
Jorah looked up at his Khaleesi, an amused smile played on her lips at the dubious expression he had been staring at the sword with.
"Yes, your grace, I've never held a sword as fine as this in all my life," far greater than even Longclaw, he acquiesced internally, not daring to speak such disrespectful words aloud, he had stained his family's name enough for hundreds of life times.
"Well, you're free to have it," the smith lazily said, raising his clenched fist to his mouth in a yawn.
"I dare not ask how much a weapon like this costs," Jorah responded slowly, though a hint of reluctance could be heard stitched between his words.
"No, I mean it now belongs to you, Ser Jorah."
"Surely you jest?"
"I seldom jest these days, good Ser," a distant look housed itself on his visage, staring up into the bright sky, he appeared to be staring somewhere else entirely. "Some days I get orders placed for a particular kind of sword, and I make it for whatever fee the person is willing to pay. Other days I simply feel a need to make a blade. The feeling is overwhelming, and all I can do to satiate it is work. When those days occur, I give it away to the first person it seems to connect with. Today just so happened to be one of those days and… you felt it, did you not?" the gaze of the smith unnerved Jorah a bit, he was still away from them, imagining a place no one else could see, but talking to them as if they stood there right next to him. Daenerys watched from the side with rapt interest.
"Aye, I cannot explain what it was with words properly, but the sword called to me even before it touched mine hand."
"You'll never find someone who can make blades like I can, I assure you… they're… one of a kind."
"And you give these blades away for free?" Jorah retorted with the evident incredulity spun in his tone, making the question seem far more rude than he had intended.
"Money is a pointless thing for me. It can make men follow you, lie for you, kill for you, it can buy anything your heart so desires in the material world. But what if there is nothing the material world offers that you desire? What if you have no desire for power over others? What if all you wish is people stopped killing and raping one another with such fervor and lack of thought? It may seem backwards and foolish, but all I hope for when I make a blade is that it will protect; if life needs to end by steel, that it is done in an act seeking to free others from their chains, to protect an innocent child from torture, a father protecting his family, whatever the purpose… I simply hope and pray for better and brighter days."
Daenerys listened intently, unfolding his words over in her mind. She wondered how someone so clearly skilled could be so abstracted from the world that surrounded him. No desire of material things? Everyone she had crossed in the world sought something for themselves deep down, whether it be power, recognition through position, satisfaction through fulfilling one's inner lust, or simply to fill their coffers evermore. A man entirely disconnected from these things was alien to her mind, but it was also a breath of fresh air in this caustic world, and there was something about this man that drew her in. Perhaps his beliefs in protecting those incapable of doing so drew her closer, but before she knew it, she was standing next to the anomaly of a man. He still stared off into the sky.
Placing her hand delicately onto his shoulder, he was jolted from his reverie, gaze snapping over to hers.
"What is your name?" she had failed to ask earlier, but she felt an itching need to know.
"Naruto. Naruto Uzumaki."
Such a strange name, it sounded bizarre to her ears, something entirely misplaced.
"An interesting name. Does it have any meaning?"
A smile quirked onto his lips, "Yeah, it's one of a kind," he chuckled at his jape darkly, hating the truth weighing behind those words, "Naruto means maelstrom… And Uzumaki means spiral."
"What language does it come from?"
"Trust me, no one would know it."
How can no one know a language? Nothing about this man makes any sense, but it doesn't frustrate me, it intrigues me. There's so much pain in his eyes, more than I've seen in even the poorest of soul's.
Jorah watched the conversation from the side with interest, allowing his Khaleesi to handle this conversation, but equally intrigued by the man's odd statements.
"Would you join me, Naruto Uzumaki? You say you seek nothing, but I can offer you a place among my people, we could use someone of your talents."
"And just who are you exactly?" Naruto asked in a teasing tone.
Daenerys bristled at the casualness of his voice, until she stopped short, realizing that she had failed to introduce herself to him. Her inquisitiveness had thrown away her manners, when was the last time something like that had happened?
"Forgive me, it does seem rather presumptuous to gain an ally without proper introductions, doesn't it?" she said easily, letting the anxiousness spill out of her. This man had her on edge, but not in a way where she felt unsafe. If anything, this was the one of the least intimidating men she had met. But that was just it, it felt as if he were a coiled spring, waiting to be released if the proper pressure was needlessly applied. "I am Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen, First of her name, Mother of Dragons, and Khaleesi."
A low whistle escaped the man's lips, "I heard talk that you had made your way into the city, but I assumed it was merely rumor. Forgive me if I was rude, your Grace," he seemed genuine in his apology, "I've always tended to do poorly with nobility, it isn't exactly something I can adjust to easily."
"You've done fine," she said with an absent wave of her hand. "So, what do you think about my previous proposition? Will you join me?"
His gaze steeled itself as a question formulated deep within, "Why do you fight, Daenerys Stormborn?" he raised a finger to stop her, before finishing, "Outside of returning the kingdoms your family once ruled back under your command, why is it that you fight?"
Why did she fight? After everything she had seen with the Dothraki, the way slaves were treated over the entirety of Essos, a world full of strife and subject to the whims of those with riches, there was only one thing she fought for now.
"I fight to free those in chains. The oppressed are silenced in this land. I was not born here, but I grew here. This land is as much a home to me as the way the ever-distant Westeros truly is. When I see the weak put under the whip… it boils my blood, makes me want to spit fire upon these… Masters. I want mothers to be able to feed their babes, for fathers to have proper work to provide for their own, for children to be allowed to learn and explore what they desire in the world..." a shadow containing the memory of her dead and unborn son flashed across the axis of her mind, bringing a grimace across her beautiful face, but she pushed onward, "Will you watch these people be put under the boot of the powerful? Or will you come with me and free this world?"
As she unwound the anger that had stacked up from expressing how she truly felt, a hand was extended to her, looking up the arm she saw Naruto beaming at her, smiling in a manner that made you want to drop all your guards was on his stuck to his lips. She grabbed onto it, shaking it firmly.
"I'll follow you, Daenerys Stormborn."
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Night began its descent upon the city of Qarth, dark tendrils stretching through alleyways, along the docks, the buildings being the catalyst of their expansion as the world above began to twinkle into life. Sat atop the home of Xaro Xhoan Daxos (the rich and pompous asshole that had provided Daenerys and her people refuge in the city after their journey across the Red Waste) was Naruto, running the day over in his head again and again, trying to understand why he had chosen to follow Daenerys. Her drive to free the oppressed was commendable, but he knew that was secondary to what he had seen behind her eyes. A past of pain, one where she had been dragged along for the ride for so long, but now she was the pilot of her own existence, and that captivated Naruto, drove him to want to get closer to the beautiful woman. But those were all foolish ideas, he was a no one. The sky was proof enough of that. Neither a star he could recognize no matter which direction he looked, nor a foreign planet that seemed familiar—nothing. This was a place he did not belong but now found to be his home. Will he ever adapt?
Ripped from his musings, he heard the gentle huff of breath as someone climbed up the rampart to get to him. What is she doing? He could hear the beautiful Targaryen woman mutter quietly about stupid smiths that like to climb and ignore her, making him chuckle. When her hand touched the top, she began to pull up, but a slight loosening of her fingers allowed gravity to work its devilry, yanking her body back to the balcony below. Before Daenerys could fall even an inch, a gust of wind picked up and she found her hand in the grip of Naruto.
But-but he was on the other side… how did he move so quickly? That couldn't have been but the blink of an eye.
"Careful there, princess, the buildings capture moisture at night that burns off from the sea during the day. Makes it rather dangerous without proper hold."
"Clearly, but what are you doing up here? I went to look for you in your room, but the servants said you came up here hours ago."
"Oh, and what did you want from me?"
"Answers."
"Isn't that what so many want? Answers for the riddles that life binds us with?"
"Perhaps, but you seem… different. You're like a tree somehow surviving in the desert, no water, no other plant life to draw from, you are alone in a world even when surrounded by others. I've met a variety of people in my travels, but no one has the presence of… absence that you seem to exist in… perpetually."
A deep sigh lead down the confusing path of human emotions into full-blown laughter, drawing out the ire of the woman sitting next to him, an experience Naruto was all too familiar with, so plenty happy to diffuse..
"Sorry, sorry. You simply have no idea how right you are… the irony simply stunned my mind and set me off, entirely inexcusable on my part," the mirth dancing in his voice gave little credence to the validity of his apology, but she somehow found herself not angered by his attitude. It felt different having someone treat her… normally? As if she were any other person, not an object to be placed on a pedestal, where every detail is examined to find what uses you can play in their game.
"Then who are you, Naruto Uzumaki? What do you fight for?"
"Oh, using my own words against me. How devilish of you, Daenerys," his eyes redirected themselves from her own to the stars above once again, "Does the night sky seem familiar to you, Daenerys? Does it bring you comfort seeing the ever present lights above that guide you through the world, do they give you hope that those lights are other worlds far away that perhaps resemble your own?"
"I suppose, I don't think I've ever thought of the what stars are in significant length."
"Well, it brings me only pain. It is a reminder," his voice was dim, a whisper on the wind that caressed gently within her ears.
"A reminder of what?" trepidation dripped from her tone, wondering what this man would reveal.
"I do not belong to this world."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Exactly what it does. This world is not where I was born."
"You actually expect someone to believe that?" her voice was shaky, granted it was not from anger, but fear, fear that what he said was the complete truth. He had said jesting was an irregularity for him.
"I expect no one to believe me, but you are the first person to truly observe my interactions with the world and ask about who I am. The people I've interacted with have only been concerned with what I can give to them. Our worlds are similar in many respects… the strong rule over the weak… but the things that divided those in my own were different than this."
"Such as?"
"Such as… you know of magic, no?"
The simple word magic made the woman next to him want to rage and scream, the wretched practice had stripped her of both husband and child, "I do."
The frostiness in her voice was not missed by Naruto, but he decided (wisely) to venture on and not unwind past, still festering wounds, "My world had something… similar, but very different… Picture this, can you imagine a woman your height and size being able to blow apart mountains with nothing but her fist?"
A gentle laugh escaped Daenerys' lips, the concept being so utterly preposterous that it could only be a joke… from anyone else, "No, I cannot say such an image is easy to imagine."
"Well, I witnessed it. The woman was quite special to me, the closet thing I've ever known what having a sister would be like was with her. War… war destroys so much… and my world was no stranger to war, it was in our nature to fight. Here, 'magic' is supposedly on the decline, it has been for over a millennia, but, in my world, the numbers that could use our 'power'… were immense. Our skill in killing each other only improved in its brutality and its efficiency, further strangulating the relations of borders. Eventually, this all culminated in a single mad-man seeking to rule our entire world… his plan was… horrid."
"What was it?" Daenerys whispered in interest. All thoughts of doubt were thrown out for her, the allure of his melancholic voice captured her in its darkened allure.
"A world of illusion. One where you are allowed to live whatever life you most dearly desired. Have you lost loved ones? They shall live again in this world. A place where all the things you believe should have taken place in your life will in this world. A lie. Such a wretched lie!" his arm swiped through the air, as if trying to cast away some imaginary foe that haunted him. "In my world, people were born with… special gifts… his family's gift were the eyes they possessed. Those cheating, bullshit eyes," Naruto slammed his foot against the ground in frustration, sending spidery ripples of cracks through the roof, shocking Daenerys and almost knocking her over if he had not reached out and steadied her with ease, sending her an apologetic expression.
"Imagine if your enemy could predict everything you did before you did it. Those damnable eyes allowed them to slow down your movements, take in every detail behind them to find the faults in your attack… Anything the eyes perceived were recorded in their memory for life, giving the eyes the nickname of the 'Copy Wheel', they could strip the hard work and toil another put into learning in mere moments. Gods, those cursed eyes haunt my dreams every night. What this monster wanted to take advantage of from the eyes were their powers of illusion," Naruto pointed to the moon clinging gently above the surface of the sea. "He called it the 'Moon's eye plan', where he would project his gaze upon the moon, subjecting the world to their fantasies. Forever."
Silence danced between the two, it was not an uncomfortable one, but Daenerys was reeling. Who had she allowed to join her? This man was not an anomaly, he was the anomaly. She could walk far and wide, and she would never discover another like this man before her. Had she struck gold or lit the flames of her demise by bringing him along with her? He had not a lick of evidence, but he was expressing his pain and frustration at his… failure?
"What happened?"
"Fuck if I know," he said in agitation. "Shit got crazy. It would take so long trying to go over the details of what occurred, it is something I relive in my head each day. But… if I'm to guess? I pray everyone is safe… that they succeeded, but sometimes I wonder if-if its… only a wish."
Tears poured out Naruto's eyes as he stared at the moon with a look of absolute hatred, a man who would do anything to tear it out of the sky by the strength of his hands alone, but could only watch from afar as it taunted him each and every night, again and again in an endless cycle. A gentle hand was placed on his arm, he turned to look back into the eyes that captured him earlier that day, gave him a cord to grab onto and try to find some meaning in this chaos. Daenerys smiled at him sadly, the gentle tears pooling in her eyes reflected off the moonlight in such a way that Naruto, for the first time in so many days, found himself actually thankful for the silvery glow the moon possessed, it admixed with this fiery woman in an ethereal way.
"You are beyond beautiful, Daenerys Stormborn… your beauty and spirit will capture the hearts of those screaming for release, you can free the world from the trappings they find themselves in. What would you have me do?"
Her heart beat in rapid, uneven palpitations. She had been showered with flowery and honeyed words, all in the attempt to gain something from her, to allow them to achieve something through her, but he wanted to know what she would have him do? A man who could conquer the world if he so desired, she could feel it burning in his eyes, strength and will unlike any she imagined, one that dared the world to contradict him, it was something she wanted to embody as well. How does one fight for others but also oneself? She had it backwards, it occurred to her now, she was seeking the power her family once had, and, in proxy, she had found a goal for herself of freeing the slaves. But, deep down, inside the innermost parts of her being that shield their operations from prying eyes, she still felt it was her right for the throne, no approval from others was needed. What would she have done for them? Killed those ruling over them? Allowed for those that surrendered to live? Would she fall into the hole that was the eternal and constantly moving Game, losing all that she once stood for? No, she refused such a reprehensible potentiality.
"Show me something I've never seen before."
A wry grin spread across his lips. She watched as the inner golden pigments of his eyes swirled faster. His right palm rose in the air, her eyes affixed to it in a trance as golden energy began to spiral and swirl inside his hand, his fingers curled around it, not touching, but somehow holding it in place as it hovered above his palm.
"What is it?"
"A creation of the man who gifted with me with this madness we all call life."
"Such a circuitous way to say your father."
"Forgive me for some minor theatrics," he said, a chuckle rumbling from deep within the confines of his chest, one that sounded true to Daenerys, the first since they had met hours before. "He named it the Rasengan… it means 'spiraling sphere' in my language. My old man wasn't exactly the most creative of individuals when it came to naming things."
Giggling lowly to herself, allowing the artificially-built exterior designed to protect her from the manipulations of others to dissolve. She found it relieving to be free of those constraints, if even for but a moment.
"Oh, and how did he name you?"
Naruto ran a hand over the back of his long hair, looking away in embarrassment. Mumbling slightly under his breath.
"What was that? The wind seems to have picked up and carried your voice away with it."
Naruto gave her a pointed glare, one telling her how much he believed such a ridiculous ploy.
"He named me after a character in a book he read… it was written by someone important to both him and myself."
"Who?"
"My teacher, and his before me. He was a strange man, but… deep down he stood for what was right. He fought for a better tomorrow, to free people from the horrors that come from war, to achieve peace. The character in his book embodied this ideal, it was dissected through the interactions he had with the people around him and the actions he committed in search to achieve this dream… He had a phrase he would always use when the situation seemed to be most dire… 'You can give up on me giving up.'" his final words were choked out, as if revealing them was to expose a tremendous burden, a burden that had festered in his soul since arrival, one built entirely upon this single phrase.
"I never gave up… did I?" he seemed to be talking to himself at this point, looking out at the calm waters below, the moon having made its way above them, spilling out an elongated reflection upon the careening surface.
A gentle hand rested itself on his cheek, forcing his attention back to the woman next to him.
"You never answered my question, Naruto."
He let out a choked sob intertwined with laughter filled the night, "Which one?"
"What do you fight for, Naruto Uzumaki?"
A pause broke out as he stared into her eyes, the gaze he sent her way was entirely incomprehensible to her, but, in a word, it was… burning.
"I fight for you, Daenerys Stormborn, I believe in you. The doubt exists in your eyes, the fear that you won't stick to the words you spoke to me earlier, that you desire the power residing behind your family's name. Cast those worries away and focus on your goal; know that whenever you need protection, I'll be behind to catch you. I won't siege cities for you in unwarranted destruction. You must lead your people to free themselves. Prove to them that you can bring them better lives. But, if you are ever in danger, backed into a corner without escape, I will guide you to safety."
Those words struck the young woman, it felt the words trampled over her worries like an angry horde of wild animals set on a rampage. Had she ever trusted another so easily? Everything that had prepared her for ruling told her to keep everyone at an arm's length, that men and women alike had the potential to stick a knife in your back if you allow them the opportunity. But none of that preparation had predicted such an enigmatic individual would appear in her life.
He would never betray her, she could feel it in the marrow of her bones.
"Naruto."
The mentioned man had been staring at the swirling chakra held within his palm, he glanced up at her as he allowed it to fizzle away, vanishing into small golden wisps that found themselves absorbed by the blanket of night, "Yes?"
"Tell me stories of your home."
"What do you want to know?"
"Everything."
The night was young, but they would spend it together, atop the roof, alone in their small, personal world, whispered tales were weaved of a world so unimaginable to Daenerys that she found herself thankful she had been born here. A foreign part of her wished to have known what this man had been like in his youth, before the inescapable weight of the past tore apart his bright spirit. She was seeing only the tattered remains of who he once was, but could he be pieced back together? It was her wish to see it happen.
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Daenerys stood in one of Xaro's numerous gardens. A gathering of guests were sprawled across the grounds, mingling amongst one another, chatting amiably, but she could see the glances they all sent her way, trying to measure her worth by the way she presented herself. A woman whose name she failed to properly recall was droning on beside her.
"And you must visit the night market. The Qartheen night market is truly one of the marvels this world has to behold," the woman gushed animatedly, attempting to embellish every detail of her wondrous city.
"It sounds wonderful," Daenerys responded blandly, though trying to throw in a semblance of interest to her tone.
"The Meereenis think they have a night market," she released a light huff at the sheer audacity of such anidea. "I will take you there myself."
"Pardon me, there seems to be something I need to deal with."
Daenerys thanked whatever gods resided above that she spotted Jorah speaking heatedly in Dothraki to two Dothraki soldiers.
"What are they doing?" Daenerys asked seriously, noticing the strange way Malakko was sizing up the statue he was looking at.
"Malakko claims the statue is too heavy to carry. Kovarro decided to call Malakko an idiot, because they can gouge the gems out of the statue, and, since gold is rather soft, cut the rest up to bring with us."
"Or melt it. Very simple," Kovarro grunted to two observers.
"We are his guests!" she hissed in return with their native tongue. "You are not allowed to pry it, to chop it, or to melt it!"
"Of course not, Khaleesi! We will wait until we leave," Kovarro responded, obviously believing fully that such adept moralistic reasoning perfectly justified his theft.
"Not even when we leave!" she retorted, frustration building in her tone.
Kovarro gave her a confused look and asked, "Why not?"
Daenerys scrutinized the man under her stern gaze, "Our host saved our lives from the Red Waste, and this is how we return his kindness? I will hear no more of it!"
Both Kovarro and Malakko gave her annoyed glares as they left the party, the former reaching out and snatching one of the many gold goblets from one of the tables as they did so.
"My brother once claimed that the only thing Dothraki are skilled at accomplishing is stealing that which other men have built."
"Aye, but their skills are twofold: stealing what the better men have built by being ferocious warriors and showing no mercy in their skill with the blade."
"That's not the kind of queen I'm going to be," Daenerys said determinedly, thoughts of her late night conversation with Naruto floating to the surface of her lake-bed of memories. Is this what 'the Will of Fire' is supposed to feel like? Perhaps if the Targaryens had met such a man before the Dance of Dragons… does it make me an awful person that I'm secretly happy he's here, now, with me? Not somewhere else, landed in some other world… He's suffered so much, but why does his loyalty to me feel so… intoxicating?
Meanwhile, as her thoughts were running from left to right, she had failed to notice the man approaching Jorah and herself. He was tall, with a long cloak hung over his body, the lapel fluttered out at the back in a circular shape, creating a dome around his bald head, which was gaunt, appearing hallowed out, stained blue lips were chapped, and his bloodshot eyes were unashamedly trained on Daenerys.
"Mother of Dragons, on behalf of the Warlocks of Qarth, I welcome you to our esteemed city," he paused for a moment after giving a slight bow. "A demonstration, perhaps?
He held out a his hand, a small gem dangling from the tips of his fingers, offering Daenerys to take a closer look at it. She obliged the man, seeing no reason to not humor him. She wanted to know what tricks this Warlock had in store.
"Take this gem," so she did, holding it in her palm, "Look at it, deep into its depths… so many facets. Tread carefully, for you look closely enough, you will see yourself in them… often more than once," his voice was whispered and sweet, trying to present what occurred next as marvelous.
Looking over her shoulder, the crowd gasped as they spotted a doppelganger of the Warlock standing behind her. But what followed directly after startled even the Warlock.
"I don't see what the big idea is!" came a loud exclamation from the side.
Daenerys recognized that voice.
"I know, right? Like, yeah, so what, I can clone myself. What a chump."
"I bet three hundred gold honors."
"Call."
"Call."
"Fold."
"Fuck you. Fold."
Everyone's attention was directed at the table that seemed to have gone unnoticed for some time, until the attention was drawn towards it from the loud conversation the group started, right when the Warlock made his big display. How convenient, Daenerys chuckled in her mind at her friend's play. Drawing attention to himself in a very effective manner, but he must be playing a bigger game, of this she was certain. She would simply wait and observe his choice of tactics. The table previously mentioned was filled with blond haired clones chatting, betting, and laughing away as they ate at the various treats offered to guests, no care that the food was being entirely wasted on them. Dear reader, you cannot blame them for such a decision! The guests already wasted enough on themselves, whilst the Narutos were simply reflecting the gluttonous spirit of the opulent back at them.
"As you can see, Warlock, your tricks are not so impressive," Daenerys said dismissively, as if she were talking to someone of absolutely no consequence whatsoever.
The Warlock shot her a heated glare as he swept out of the party in a swift stride, not before he snagged the gem out of Daenerys' hand roughly.
"Do you know who that is?" the voice of Xaro came from her side, he was staring at the men at the table in abject confusion.
A small smile danced on the corner of her lips, threatening to expose full-blown laughter if she did not tread… carefully. Damn you, Naruto Uzumaki…
"I do in fact," she said no more, sending the bait out.
"And…" (so easy,) "who is it?"
"Someone Ser Jorah here recommended I send an invitation to… join my ranks. He has been an excellent acquisition."
She could tell Xaro was beginning to fume at her evasiveness, if the tightening of his jaw and temple were any indicators, so he asked more directly, "His name, what is his name?" Calm yourself, Xaro, how unbecomingcoming from one of such…. nobility, the Dragon Queen sneered in her mind.
"Oh, I'm surprised you don't recognize him. Well, he did trim his hair this morning at my suggestion." Trimming was putting it lightly, his hair was back to the length he had it when he arrived in this world, though it still baffled the crowd with how it seemed to break the constraints of gravity. It spiked and stood in random directions without the application of any cosmetic product, a most unusual head of hair no matter where you traveled in Essos or Westeros. "He's rather famous in your illustrious city, my Lord, he used to run a small forge… perhaps you've heard of it? What was it called again, Ser Jorah?"
She knew the name. How could she not? But this was another way to waste the man's time, something she was deriving great pleasure from at this moment in time.
"It was 'Uzumaki Blades', Khaleesi," Jorah added casually, eyeing the blonds with a look of utter bemusement, but trying to stifle it by answering her question as normally as possible.
"Y-you can't be serious! Do you have any idea how much money I've had my servants offer the man to work for me exclusively?! And he joins you for what? Your cunt?!" Xaro was furious, the slight on his person he felt this bastard had just committed made him desire blood to stain his grass in retribution.
"Oi," Xaro was pulled from his thoughts at the call coming from another version of the blond, leaning against one of the pillars of the veranda his party was in, though the eyes boring into him told him this was the real Uzumaki. "Talk to my queen like that again and you won't be able to eat, speak, or sleep… ever."
The threat was followed up by the blonds at the table having turned their attention on Xaro, grinning maniacally at him, begging to be thrown a reason to strike him down. Each eye present was affixed to the scene playing out, unable to tear themselves away. But, something else was strange, random guests sprinkled throughout the party had the same predatory gleam in their eyes, like they were in on something he was not. He had never felt so worried to be in his own home in all his life.
Daenerys made her way to Naruto and placed her hand on his shoulder, "Now, now, Naruto, I'm sure Xaro was simply… forgetting himself. Isn't that right, my Lord?" the condescension that poured from her lips was a sweet symphony to Naruto's ears.
"Y-yes, forgive me, it simply astounded me that you would join our Khaleesi here," Xaro stuttered out quickly.
"Hmm… I'll forgive you… momentarily," Naruto responded. "Come, Ser Jorah, your grace, there are things we must discuss," he added as he guided Daenerys out of the party with his arm looped through hers, Jorah following closely behind.
Once they made their way into the beautiful Qartheen streets, sandy buildings lined each sides, the architecture was magnificent. The city was an escape from the Red Waste, this was paralleled quite plainly with the lavish interior and the 'Garden of Bones' that existed right outside the city's triplet wall system. They passed by fountains with fixtures of manticores, dragons, and griffins, all done in a fashion fit only for the wealthiest, buildings with massive archways that had columns adorned in bronze that reflected the gleaming overhead sun, and people streamed through the busy streets with an excited chatter and optimistic spirit.
"Here will do nicely," Naruto said as he pulled Daenerys off to the side.
"Here?" she asked doubtfully.
"People think they should find somewhere discreet for passing intel. Look around," he waved his hand at the people passing by. "Do any of them appear to care about what the three of us are up to? Most focus on themselves when in such large numbers; it becomes overwhelming to try and pick someone out of in this mess unless you narrowed the proximity between yourself and the target."
"He has a point, Khaleesi," Jorah added.
"So what did you find?"
"Nothing good. I would recommend our third plan."
"Really?"
"Yeah, Doreah is already nestled nicely in Xaro's pockets… I'm sorry," Naruto said while his eyes shone with sympathy.
"It's… okay. I… don't really know how to feel about that. What were they planning?"
"Do you really want to know?"
"Tell me."
"They were going to steal your dragons," Naruto said with a gulp at the burning fury that ignited in her eyes.
"How dare those cretins think they can touch me children?! And Doreah… Drogon loves her… how dare she even think to cross me?!"
Daenerys began rambling about the revenge she would enact until she was torn from these gentle musings by Naruto tapping her forehead. She glanced up to see Jorah smiling lightly at her, a hint of regret could be seen in his eyes at what was revealed.
"So that's it? We leave?" she asked Naruto.
"Wait, what?" Jorah asked in confusion.
"That's right," Naruto answered.
"Where are we going?" Jorah inquired, wondering what this man and his Khaleesi had talked about last night, it seemed plans upon plans had been prepared with the enigmatic smith.
"Meereen."
(A/N) Well, I hope you had a good time with the first chapter. Feel free to leave feedback and critiques. I know these types of stories are not for everyone, but I enjoy writing them. So, for those that share in my sentiment, I hope it met to your standards. I'm off to continue with my Star Wars story now. Adios!