A/N: Chapt 4 review responses are in my forums as normal. Additional notes below.
Chapter Five: Unburnt
Sailing into Qarth, with the sun setting the marble edifices ablaze, the interior city of Qarth looked like the setting of an extravagant fantasy movie. On the cobblestone streets, the reality was jarring.
The Silk King did not move about in isolation. He was surrounded by slaves and clients alike with the long mustachios similar to his own, but with less ornate clothing. The clients carried cudgels about their waists and seemed to serve as guards.
Inside the inner wall, they came to a wide boulevard stretched out beyond them through the entire length of the city. Taylor could see in the far distance the inner wall of the north side of the city. Along either side of the broad boulevard, spires and narrow towers rose from the midst of columned buildings with gold-leaf domes. Many buildings had riotously bright stained glass windows or brightly painted murals on the walls. In fact, color was everywhere.
But at the base of all this glory were perfectly ordinary stalls and tables crowded almost one atop the other, with hawkers shouting out their wares for all and sundry. She saw people who almost could have been Asian in the set of their eyes, but with a rich, oak-colored skin. YiTish, she heard them called. Or Lengi.
Most of the slaves she saw actually had more of a bronzed skin, but the citizens all had the milky-pale skin complexion she saw so much of in the Inn. Most of the better-dressed women wore the same style as the seamstress-with one breast bare. In a city where workmen went nude, that little flash just didn't seem that important.
Every hundred feet or so, Taylor saw statues carved from white marble set on granite plinths on either side of the street, rising up from the stalls. Every one was painted with lifelike colors and details. The details, though, were oddly exaggerated. One man had a cock that hung down almost to his knees; one hero had biceps larger than a tree. On and on they went. As Taylor studied them, she began to see a pattern. Warriors were heavily muscled and had huge genitalia. There were even a couple of female heroes, and like their male counterparts their breasts and vulvas were grossly exaggerated. Philosophers and politicians had larger heads or wider eyes with which to see truths denied lesser people.
She was about to comment on it to Ser Barristan when she saw something new set between a massive cock-bearing warrior, and an inhumanly owl-eyed architect. Three wooden planks had been fashioned into a large, leaning X-shape. On that shape hung a thin, emaciated woman in torn leathers, with a long gash of dried blood on her side. The blood had long since turned black and a bird sat on her motionless head, picking at her eye sockets for an easy meal.
The citizens and slaves of the city moved around the horrible site without a second glance, as if crucified bodies were perfectly normal, every-day things.
Across from the first body Taylor saw another wooden cross, with another body hung on it. This one was an old, bearded man. Like the woman, his skin was a shade darker than those that moved around the boulevard.
Looking further down the boulevard, Taylor saw similar Xs between each of the statues. As they walked down the center of the flagstones, flanked by men with cudgels and unarmed slaves, Taylor felt a sinking sensation and knew from his stiff steps that Baristan felt it as well.
All the time, the Silk King spoke happily about the many wonders of Qarth, and the many pleasures to be had within its walls. Finally, though, he stopped and motioned with an elaborate bow toward the X-shape set up in the shadow of a massive forum of painted marble. With the backdrop mural of kilt-clad warriors and blue-headed wizards fighting a hoard of horsemen, Taylor saw a cross that bore a petite slip of a girl with long, white-blonde hair.
Unlike the others, this girl had been stripped of her clothing. Her small, bruised body was covered in filth ranging from rotting foods to excrement. Like the others, a gash on her side bled her out.
Beside Taylor, Barristan had gone perfectly still.
"I present for your king's pleasure Daenerys Targaryen, Mother of Dragons." The Silk King sounded pleased with himself. "In her final days we made sure she was surrounded by her followers. Her most loyal lives still, so that he may continue to see his beloved queen until she rots."
Knowing her friend could not speak, Taylor did so as for him. "What was her crime against your city?"
"Many," the Silk King said. He leaned forward and spat at the foot of the cross. "This one is a murderer, and a thief. She was welcomed into these halls by Xaro Xhoan Daxos, a member of the Thirteen and an honored name within the Tourmaline Brotherhood. He accepted her into his home and showered her with gifts, food and prestige. She was welcomed by the Warlocks from the House of the Undying, and given their blessing. Her dragons were greeted by all as a miracle of magic."
His grin turned vicious. "She returned this great favor with foul murder. Her dragons burned down the House of the Undying, killing many of the Warlocks who helped lead our ancestors to safety from the Dothraki. Worse, she violated guest rites by locking Xaro Xhoan Daxos within his own vault, even condemning one of her own who sought to protect him. The vault had no key, and by the time we breached it, my dearest friend had suffocated to death. We caught the false queen and her barbarians ransacking dear Xaro Xhoan Daxos' home of all his wealth."
He looked at Barristan, still smiling. "Thus is the reward for crimes against Qarth."
The Force hummed with the promise of violence. Ser Barristan Selmy, former Commander of the Kingsguard, stood looking at the bloodied, defiled corpse of his last hope, and she could almost feel his despair shifting into hopeless, suicidal rage.
"Honored Silk King," Taylor said, forcing the words out without the anger she felt on her friend's behalf. "Ser Barristan came personally because he wished the daughter of a king he once served to be treated with honor, even unto her death. I know her crimes against your city were great, but might we beg possession of the body so that we may give her the last rites?"
Not trusting words alone, Taylor subtly manipulated the man's mind with the Force. He barely even hesitated before he motioned to the cross. "Easily done. The rest, though, must remain as testimony for their crimes."
"Thank you, Honored Silk King."
Two of the thugs stepped forward and cut the body down. Only then did Barristan move. He pulled his fine white cloak off without hesitation and gently wrapped it around the petite body before lifting her in his arms. He'd pulled his face plate down, but through the eye slits Taylor saw tears.
Those teary eyes moved from her face to a point behind her. She turned and saw another body on a cross. Unlike the rest, this man was still alive, though in bad shape. He wore leather pants under a half-kilt, and a filthy, stone-bleached linen blouse.
The man's head hung forward as he stared emptily at them. Though heavily tanned, his blond hair and blue eyes set him apart from everyone else in the city, Dothroki included. "Ser Barristan, do you know that man?"
"Mormont," Barristan said. "The spy."
Seeing an opportunity to at least find out the truth of what happened, she nodded as if she were aware of what the knight had said. "Honored Silk King, that man was a spy of our king, sent to insinuate himself into the graces of the Usurper. It was by his hand we learned of her presence here. If harm was done, it was not by his will. I know we have asked much of you, and we are truly grateful for your generous time. Might we take him as well? He'll never again walk these streets."
Another subtle manipulation, and once more cudgel-bearing thugs were cutting a body down. The man, Mormont, collapsed in a heap on the flagstones. Taylor stepped to his side.
"You should have let me die with my Khaleesi," the man whispered in a bone-dry voice. "I deserve no less."
"If you want to honor her, shut the fuck up and come with us," Taylor hissed back. Louder, for the benefit of their host, she said, "I am called Taylor of Asshai Beyond-the-Shadow. I have been entreated to return Daenys Targaryen to her ancestral home. Your duty is done, Ser. You may come home now."
Stained, bloodshot blue eyes stared at her incredulously, but he made no effort to stop her as she hoisted him to his feet. Like Barristan, she stood easily an inch taller than him. With his arm around her shoulder, she turned and bowed to the somewhat confused-looking Silk King. "You have been most kind and generous, Honored Silk King. Our task in your mighty city is complete. May we beg your leave to return to our inn so that we may begin preparations for our journey home?"
"Easily given," the man said magnanimously.
He didn't bother to escort them back to the wall. Mormont continued to lean heavily on Taylor, causing her to pull on the Force to find the strength to keep walking. It was a long-way back to the Inn.
Half-way there, with the body of his queen in his arms, Barristan finally spoke. "Why did you stop me?"
"Because I'm selfish," Taylor said without hesitation. "Because you're the best friend I have in this world, and I'll be damned if I stand by and let you get yourself killed. I'm sorry, Barristan. I'm so sorry. But...I just couldn't stand there and let you do what you were thinking."
The old knight said nothing. Instead, he just continued to carry his dead queen through the streets of the Queen of Cities.
~~Quintessence~~
~~Quintessence~~
They did not stay in the same inn that night. Instead, they sought out a less expensive inn closer to Groleo's ship. The innkeeper stared at the armored knight and the body he carried with wide eyes and offered them the largest of the rooms, one with several beds. Once alone, Barristan placed the girl's body on the bed nearest the door, rolled away his cloak, and stared with a broken expression down at her face.
The other man they saved collapsed boneless on the far bed. Taylor grabbed a pitcher of water she found by the wash stand and just handed it to him. He drank slowly; methodically. "Whatever that fop said is a lie, I swear it."
"Tell us," Taylor said.
"I...who are you?" the man said. "You sound nothing like the Shadowbinder I know."
Taylor tore off her mask and pulled her hood back. "I'm an alien super-soldier from another planet," Taylor said. "Barristan helped save me."
The man choked on his water. "Wha...I did not understand any of that."
"That's not my problem. What happened?"
"Answer her, man," Barristan said without turning his head away from the body.
Mormont bowed his head to swallow his pride and anger. "Xaro Xhoan Daxos conspired with the Warlocks to steal the Khaleesi's dragons," Mormont said. "He only let her enter the city because of their value. There are men who would pay a king's ransom five times over for a single dragon. Khaleesi and I were distracted, and when we returned to the place we stayed, we found many of the Khal slaughtered like animals, and the dragons gone. We learned the dragons were at the House of the Undying. I…"
He started coughing and had to drink more water. "I don't know what happened. They had magic-one moment my khaleesi was there, the next she was not. But within the hour I heard her dragons, and saw flame. She'd freed herself and her dragons, and we fled. When we returned to Daxos' home, we found one of the Khaleesi's trusted handmaids in bed with our supposed host, and learned he had betrayed us. The Khaleesi ordered them locked in his empty vault, and then took what we could find to compensate for our lost people."
"And that's when you were caught by the other Qartheen," Taylor said.
"Yes." The man put the pitcher down and covered his head. His misery was not feigned, from what Taylor gleaned from his mind. As much as Daenerys was Ser Barristan's last hope, to this man she was an idealized vision of perfection. He was in love with her.
Neither man moved, both so torn by the loss they could not think or speak. Though this inn didn't feature an airy, marble balcony, it did have a broad window that at the moment had full sunlight. She put aside her problems long enough to set her solar charger back up to get some more charge into her flight suit.
Neither man had the emotional energy to care.
"Barristan, will you take her back?" Taylor finally asked.
"To what?" Barristan asked bitterly. "I have no queen nor king, nor home to return to."
She noticed how Mormont looked up in surprise at that.
"Do you know her last rites?" Taylor asked.
"She was Dothraki, at the end," Mormont said. "She grew to love her husband, and was going to give him a son. She spoke their language and adopted their customs. She was my Khaleesi. She would wish to be cremated to be with her beloved in the stars."
Taylor could almost taste the man's bitterness and loss. "You were spying on her," she said.
"Aye, I was. I was a fugitive from the Seven Kingdoms, and rightfully so. I did a crime and fled a just punishment. I sought to atone for my crime by serving the king. And yet...she was extraordinary. Brave, strong and beautiful. She was only a child when her brother Viserys sold her to Drogo in the hope of fighters. Instead, she prospered and thrived, and he died with a crown of molten gold. She...when her Drogo died, she took her dragon eggs and stepped into the pyre."
Barristan stiffened, then turned at last to stare at the man. "The hell you say."
"With my own eyes, I watched. She stepped into the flame. Her clothes burned from her body, but when morning came there she sat, unburnt, covered in soot, with three dragon hatchlings crawling about her. That's what her followers called her, Daenerys Stormborn, the Unburnt, the Mother of Dragons."
Taylor could see it in his mind, as clearly as if she stood there watching. A slip of a girl, bereft of hope and yet somehow sure of herself. More, she sensed from Mormont's mind the events leading up to it. Though it should not have surprised her to learn that there were darksiders on this world who could harness the Force as magic, nonetheless it was a shock to see a Shadowbinder work their terrible magic within this man's memories.
~~Quintessence~~
~~Quintessence~~
An hour after sunset, a sad little procession walked the length of the wharf before leaving the shaped stone entirely to walk amidst the rocks reaching out into the Straits of Qarth.
Ser Barristan still wore his plate, and carried in his arms the cleaned, slight figure of Daenerys Targaryen. He'd wrapped her in his white cloak. Behind came Ser Jorah Mormont, the spy turned besotted disciple. He carried on his back a small cutout canoe. Behind them walked Taylor, carrying two oil lamps.
When they reached the rocky shore, Mormont placed the boat on the edge of the water. Despite his ordeal-one whole day and night spent on the cross-he did not complain or make a sound. He stepped back as Barristan lovingly placed the white shroud and body into the boat.
Without a word, Taylor handed him the unlit oil lamp. He spread the oil over the shroud and the boat itself before breaking the clay lamp on the prow. With a grunt, he pushed the little boat out into the water. Only then did Taylor hand him the second, lit lamp.
Barristan stood for the longest time, staring at the dark little canoe and the small body within, before he tossed the fire into it. Alive she was unburnt; dead, Daenerys' body burned like any other.
"Thus goes my heart," the old knight said, as if quoting.
"Into the darkness, borne by the Stranger's hands," Mormont said. Only then did Taylor realize they were quoting the same work. It hammered into her again that she was on an alien world, with its own history and its own culture she still knew nothing about.
It felt awkward, standing near two men who so deeply grieved for a girl she knew nothing about. In a way, though, neither men truly mourned for the girl named Daenerys. Barristan mourned for the hope she represented that was now gone. And Mormont mourned for the absolution he hoped she might give him for his past sins.
And Taylor?
Taylor felt lost once more.
"What will you do now, Ser Barristan?" Mormont asked.
"Grow old," came the bitter response. "And you?"
"It's time I accept my punishment. If you'd give me passage, I would take the Black. Go to the Wall as I should have, years before. Perhaps I can do some last good for the kingdoms before I die."
Taylor had no idea what the Wall was, but it sounded very much like some type of ritual exile. She felt a touch of concern when Barristan nodded. "Aye, perhaps that would do for me as well. If I have no queen to fight for, then at least I can fight for the kingdom in the Black."
With nothing to add to the conversation, Taylor drifted away, back to the quay. So far, Ser Barristan had provided an anchor for her in this strange world. His presence in the Force was clear enough, and his character honorable enough, that she felt good joining his quest. But that quest was now burning on a boat in the sea. Where did that leave her?
Pondering the question, she'd just made stone when she felt a Force presence appear in her senses as if from nowhere. She spun around, startled, and saw a woman standing just feet away in a long, featureless gown made black by the moonless night. Her face was hidden behind a mask made up of long, copper hexagons over red velvet. Dark eyes stared intently at her.
Other than the cloak, she wore the same style as Taylor. "Who are you?" the woman demanded in Qartheen.
"You first. Who are you?" Taylor responded.
The masked woman stepped closer. Taylor tensed; somehow the woman had hidden herself from the Force, masking her presence until she was almost on top of her. She reeked of Dark Side power, though not necessarily of the Dark Side itself. "I must know who you are!" the woman declared.
"Quaithe! You!" Mormont almost snarled the words as he scrambled over the rocks with murder in his eyes. "You sent us to the House of the Undying! Did you sic those Qartheen dogs on us as well!"
Well, Taylor had a name, at least.
Before Quaithe could answer, Mormont reached them. To Taylor's shock, the man cocked his arm back and slugged the newcomer right in the jaw. The woman dropped to the quay with a cry. Taylor didn't understand the situation, but she immediately saw lingering rage, and also a touch of horror in the man's face that he'd hit a woman who made no effort to defend herself.
"Was it all a lie?" he demanded in a voice thick with emotion. "Were you a part of it?"
Quaithe held a hand to her chin, but did not look at Mormont at all. Her eyes continued to burn into Taylor's through their mutual masks.
"Who are you?' she said, her voice rich with the pain of the blow and her eyes moist as she stared up at Taylor. "I saw you in the flame, but I don't understand. I saw you fall from the sky in a bleeding star, trailing smoke until you fell into salt. You bear a flaming sword. You are Azor Ahai, the Prince Who was Promised, but you cannot be! WHO ARE YOU? Please, I beg you, tell me who you are?"
The outburst left Mormont confused. Barristan had arrived by then and caught most of what she'd said. "What did you say?" the old knight demanded. "That phrase! Mormont, who is this woman?"
"This is a Shadowbinder," the younger man said. "From Asshai-Beyond-the-Shadow. I thought she was counseling me to help my Khaleesi. It seemed good counsel. And yet by following it, I lost everything."
As the men spoke, Quaithe remained on the ground with her hand holding her cheek. Taylor knelt down. "I'm done with masks," she said. She removed the one she wore as part of her disguise.
The other woman made no move as Taylor pulled her mask away next to reveal not milky white, but more olive-toned skin, with a large, Romanesque nose and piercing dark eyes. Even in the shadows of the night, Taylor could see a large bruise forming along her jaw.
Quaithe said nothing as Taylor placed her hand to the jaw and healed the bruise. Her eyes widened and tears welled, but she said nothing. Though Barristan had seen her heal, Mormont cursed and stepped back from them both.
Barristan did not kneel, but bent over. "Speak to me, woman. 'Prince that was promised.' I heard Prince Rhaegar Targaryen speak those very words of his son. Just as his father spoke those words of him. What does it mean?"
"A prophecy," Quaithe said. "Made a thousand years ago. 'When the red star bleeds and the darkness gathers, Azor Ahai shall be born again amidst smoke and salt.' The darkness is gathering all around us. The Long Night comes and the Red Comet pierced the sky. But the mantle of the Prince moves. It shifts. All men must die, it is written. When one potential dies, another is chosen. The mantle has moved again." A tear rolled down her cheek. "Please. I beg of you. Who are you?"
The Force went still, as if all life on the planet suddenly, inexplicably held its breath. And Taylor knew in that moment why her friend Dinah let her go. Why she was there, on that planet.
"I am the Quintessence of the Force," Taylor told her. "I am the avatar of that energy that binds all life together. Warrior, healer, leader and scholar. My name is Taylor Hebert. I was born on a world so far away the light of my sun won't reach your sky for ten thousand years. I came here in a ship that could pierce the heavens. It was damaged, though, and I crashed. I imagine I left a trail of smoke and flame in my wake, and I landed in the salty water of the Summer Sea, where Ser Barristan rescued me."
Mormont stared first at Taylor, then Barristan. "Is this true?"
"Aye, as far as I know," Barristan said. "Pirates set upon is in the ocean-Ironborn. She held a weapon in her hand that blew out the whole prow of an Iron-born raider. She scuttled it in a second. Never seen the like."
Quaithe looked up at her as if the two men had not spoken. "The dragons live," she told Taylor. "Beings of magic and fire. In the wrong hands they could burn the world. They remain in the city, for now. You must claim them, to fight the coming darkness. You are the Prince that was promised. You are now the one destined to save the world from the Long Night!"
Taylor couldn't help but look at Barristan. The old knight studied her in the dark. Abruptly, he grinned tightly. "The Wall can wait, it would seem."
A/N: To any of you who did not rage-quite, yes, I did that. Here's why:
1) In the books, Daxos saved Dany's life after she burned down the House of the Undying. That was the city's mystic center, and she burned it down. The other Thirteen wanted her dead, but Daxos saved her hoping for her hand in marriage. When she refused, he ordered her to leave. Without him, she would have died.
In the series, after burning down the House of the Undying, she murdered Daxos and stole all his shit. And we the audience were expected to just accept that none of the other city leaders would do anything about this? This chapter was the result of the Dany in the show facing the consequences of the world GRR actually wrote.
2) What is the point of plopping a character from one UNiversty into another if they don't radically change the story? I never cared for stories where the crossover character just tags along with the existing heroes through stations of canon. THe moment Taylor landed, she was going to change Planetos. Otherwise, there was no point in writing the story.
So, for those of who you were able to get past how Dany's situation ended, hang on to your britches, because there's a new queen in town.