Alright! This is my first chapter outside of Westeros, and the beginning of a new era. What is happening in Westeros is now completely separate from canon for the most part. Next chapter, Tor will likely receive news updating him on what's going on over there, but he is mostly in the dark right now. Qarth is quite far from Westeros after all. This is basically what amounts to part two of the story. I think of it as a book 2 basically. I hope you all are enjoying the story right now, I appreciate your reviews, the positive and not so positive. I've had a lot of fun writing it, but I'm not so delusional to believe I'm an amazing writer or anything. I hope I've been portraying character's realistically enough, or at least consistently.
Not Quite Disclaimer: I realize that I've been taking a fair bit of the dialogue from the show, so just letting you all know that. I'm too lazy to put it in italics or anything like that.
The journey from King's Landing to Qarth was not a short one. The distance by sea was over three thousand miles, and the galley that Tor boarded only managed an average of fifty miles a day. The trip was a two month long journey, and there wasn't much to do on the journey. Tor got tired of staring at the sea pretty quickly, and the sailors weren't particularly talkative at first. He had to pay the captain an extra twenty dragons when he realized his passenger had brought a direwolf on board, though that money kept Shadow fed as well.
His first week, Tor kept to his cabin, holding the cloak Myrcella made as he lost himself in memories that he would one day forget, and dreams that would now never come true. He should have been riding this ship with Myrcella, traveling the world like they'd promised. Instead, he was left with memories, memories and pain.
Shadow was his comfort then, the rock in the storm that he held onto, telling him he wasn't alone. When the week had passed, Tor pulled himself from his memories, telling himself that it was right to grieve, right to mourn, but he was not a man who could stay static forever, he couldn't wallow in misery for a lifetime. Wolves were predators, not prey. Prey would give up when confronted with their grief, they would die. Predators were strong, he would conquer it, as Myrcella would have wanted. He was traveling to Essos, as they had talked about. She was not with him, but he would not forget her, not ever. His ordeal had changed him, he wasn't sure how, but he would find out.
Two weeks in, they made a stop at the Free City of Tyrosh. It was on an island, or Torrhen would have simply ended his voyage then, but he had paid for a trip to Qarth, and he'd get his money's worth. The ship docked in Tyrosh for two days.
Tyrosh was different, Tor decided, and he wasn't sure if he liked it. Everything was colorful, the people enjoyed dying their hair and beards in all manner of vibrant colors. Their language was a bastardized version of High Valyrian, so Tor had trouble understanding them. He could speak High Valyrian well enough. He had insisted Maester Luwin teach him back when he still dreamed of adventuring in Essos with Jon. Those lessons came in handy now as he moved about the city.
In his two days there, Tor learned a lot. First and foremost, he hated slavery. Slaves outnumbered the free three to one in Tyrosh. However, they had no weapons, no whips, no will, and so they did not fight back. It was a disgusting system, Tor thought. They would even sail north of the Wall to capture wildlings for more slaves. He had known that slavery was prevalent in Essos, but he hadn't truly given it much thought.
There is no established religion in the city, though statues, temples, and shrines line the streets. Tor saw shrines to the Seven, the Drowned God, R'hllor, Trios, and he had even seen a small Godswood. He spent a few minutes there, in prayer for his family, for Myrcella, for Tommen. When he rose, he thought he felt the ache in his heart at leaving them behind lessen slightly.
Two interesting things happened while Tor was in Tyrosh. On his first day, he wandered the shops and stores set up in the marketplace. It was there that he came across a blacksmith's shop. The weapons and armor lining the shop were not anything Tor had ever seen before. The swords were of different lengths and thickness, most slightly curved with only a single edge. There were long sticks with metal covered ends, throwing weapons in the shape of stars, and more besides. The shopkeeper told Tor he came from Yi Ti, and these weapons were quite common there.
Tor took a special interest in the swords. The shopkeeper called them Dao. They were single edged, and of various widths and lengths. Tor took a special interest in them because he remembered his short conversation with Ser Barristan about finding the right weapon. As he inspected the swords, he came across a set of two identical blades. The hilts were black, with a piece of rounded steel on the pommel. The handle was curved inwards, with the blade curving slightly in the opposite direction. The blade was slightly wider than the hilt, and near the base of the blade were several YiTish symbols. Tor called the shopkeeper over.
"What do these symbols mean?" He asked in High Valyrian.
"Ah," The shopkeeper ran his thumb over the symbols, "The first is Justice, the second means Death." Tor took in that information silently as he considered the blades. He picked them up, feeling the balance, giving it a few test swings. His gray eyes locked onto the shopkeepers own.
"I'll take them," He decided. He paid the merchant a few dragons, and told him to keep the change. He took the sheathes that went with them and left. Tor smiled as he exited the shop, happy with his purchase. He spent several hours that night in the captain's cabin on board the ship, trying to get used to the feel of them. He was already quite confident in wielding two blades, but these were two blades of the same length, and each was only edged on one side. It would take some practice before he felt confident in his ability to fight with the swords.
The second interesting thing that happened, happened on the day they were to leave the city. Tor was walking along the dock when he heard an interesting conversation.
"Did you hear? The King of Westeros is dead!" A rough voice spoke in whispers to the man beside him.
"How? I heard he was a fat drunk, did he fall down the stairs?"
"Apparently, one of those Starks killed him after the King murdered his own children. The boy was betrothed to the Princess and thought to avenge her."
"The King killed his kids? Why the hell would he do that?"
"Claimed they were bastards, he did. The kids of the Queen and her own brother."
"Ughh. What is it with Westeros' royalty and incest?"
"I know right! It's no wonder they all go mad!"
"Say, what happened to the boy after?"
"No one knows. He disappeared. Some say he's a hero, proving even Kings are not exempt from justice, and others are calling for his head. Either way, it's crazy over there. Both of the King's brothers are raising armies, vying for the throne."
Tor walked out of range of their conversation then. He had learned a lot from that conversation. It seemed his crime of passion had more far reaching ripples than he had hoped. Hopefully his family wasn't caught up in it.
When he made it back to the ship, the captain was standing in front of the door to Tor's rented room. Torrhen nodded at the captain and tried to walk past, but the captain put his hand on the young man's shoulder.
"We need to talk."
Twenty minutes later, they parted, Tor heading back to his room. The captain heard the same rumor's that Tor had, the only difference was that he knew about Tor's direwolf and connected the dots. Why else would the son of the Hand need to get out of Westeros? The good news was, the captain wasn't from Westeros himself, and didn't particularly care what he'd done. He just wanted to know if he'd be bringing trouble to his ship. After convincing the captain of his safety, Tor still had to pay the man an extra hundred dragons, he thought he was lucky it wasn't more.
The crew readied to sail after that, pulling out of the harbor at noon. The next month and a half passed quickly. Tor's 15th name day went by with little fanfare, as the days began blurring together. He spent hours on the deck practicing with his new swords, Shadow watching obediently from the side. When he deemed himself comfortable, he began sparring with some of the crewmembers, and helping teach those who had little experience in combat. He questioned the men on everything they knew about Qarth, for it would not do to walk in unprepared. He hadn't studied the city in his readings at Winterfell, and so knew very little about it.
The men told him what they had seen, what they had heard, and their own experiences in the city. Those in Qarth called it "The greatest city that ever was or will be". Tor thought that was quite ostentatious, but the crew agreed the city was certainly the most beautiful they'd ever seen. It is described as the "center of the world", the gate from Westeros, Slaver's Bay, and the Free Cities, to Yi Ti, Asshai, and the Shadowlands. The men said there were three walls around the city, beautifully made, with murals lining them. Torrhen scoffed at that, walls weren't supposed to be decorations. Outside of the walls, they are protected by the Red Wastes. The docking tax was enormous, the captain complained, but the prices their goods were bought for was worth it.
The sailors were big fans of Qartheen fashion apparently, as women ran around with one breast exposed. They didn't comment much on the men's fashion, to little surprise.
The rulers of Qarth were the Pureborn, who commanded the guard and the fleet, but there is an endless power struggle between the guilds in the city. The Thirteen, the Tourmaline Brotherhood, and the Ancient Guild of Spicers.
Then, the sailors told Tor stories of the Warlocks of Qarth, and their Tower of the Undying. They told him of their ghastly appearance, pale skin and blue lips, their nails were near black, and the whites of their eyes had faded blue as well. Tor thought they sounded remarkably like the White Walkers were described.
When they arrived within sight of the city, Torrhen gasped. It was gorgeous, he thought, with it's beautifully painted walls, aesthetically placed vegetation and sleek architecture. The crew looked at him funny, because the city was still a faint outline for them, but Tor, Tor could see. He decided to get another look at the city before he arrived. It would be helpful to have a mental map of the city, he mused. So he warged into Seeker, his body remained on the deck, staring at the city in the distance, along with enough of his consciousness to answer questions and not fall over, and the rest of him entered his raven friend, who flew ahead of the ship towards their destination. It truly was beautiful. The port is one of the largest Tor had ever seen, with myriads of ships from every corner of the known world. Bronze arches, marble statues, and fountains abounded, inlaid with designs of animals and people, colored with jade and dragonglass, lapis lazuli and other materials. If he had been in a human body, he'd have blushed at the sight of the women, pale and tall, their dresses showing off one breast as the crew had mentioned. The men wore silk skirts, as well as the children, though some kids were running around in naught but sandals and paint. There were massive animals with humps, covered in fur, that Tor knew to be camel's, though he'd never seen one before. The guards wore beautiful copper armor, with white silk over their legs.
Tor flew over the dock, memorizing the layout, and keeping an eye out for anything that looked interesting or troublesome. He flew over the city streets next, and then the mansions of the powerful factions of the city. He saw many parties going on, but one party stood out to him. It was one of the largest mansions, possibly the largest, and the clothes there were finer than any he'd ever seen, even amongst the richest of those in King's Landing. However, it wasn't the dresses and finery that caught his raven eyes. It was the face of a familiar man. Ser Jorah Mormont. He'd been exiled about four years after the Greyjoy Rebellion, Torrhen had been nine at the time, but he'd met him once. He had visited Winterfell when Tor was seven, and he had left quite an impression. He'd watched Ser Jorah spar with a few of his father's guards and was very impressed, for he was a remarkable swordsman.
If he was here, then Viserys and Daenerys Targaryen must be as well. He remembered his father telling him that Ser Jorah was one of Varys' sources, and was selling them information in exchange for a royal pardon. His bird eyes searched the crowd, but he saw nothing. Right as he turned to fly back towards the ship, Tor spotted a glimpse of long silvery white hair disappearing into the mansion, the hair of a Targaryen. 'So they are here, interesting'
Tor flew back towards his ship, deep in thought. Perhaps he should meet with them. He was likely exiled from Westeros for the time being, same as them. He would like to see if the two were as mad as their father. He had nothing better to do. He would be spending a few years living in Essos, this seemed more fun than many things. Tor did wonder why the Targaryen's were here though. Last he had heard, Daenerys Targaryen had been married to the Khal of a massive hoard, and no self-sufficient or self-respecting city would allow a Dothraki horde within their walls.
'At least I have a task to keep me from thinking too much about what happened in the Great Hall' Tor continued to maneuver over the city until he reached the water. Tor flew down and landed on his own arm, on a boat that was much closer to shore than it was when he left, nearly an hour ago.
Tor came out of his warging with no noticeable signs. He scratched Seeker on the back, and let the bird fly off again. As the ship neared docking distance, Tor went towards the room he'd rented to gather his things. He absentmindedly scratched Shadow, who was sprawled on his side, tongue out, to stay cool in the heat here. Tor almost pitied him, covered in so much fur. He'd have shaved him some, but the wolf had growled at him when he suggested it.
When Tor heard the sounds of shouting as the crew docked their boat in the massive harbor of Qarth, he patted Shadow, who got up and followed his master out the door. He thanked the captain for the ride and gave him a few extra dragons as thanks.
Tor had grown over the past year. He was fifteen years old and approaching six feet. His hair was black and roughly cut, leaving it shorter on the sides with a mop of curls on the top. His eyes were gray and his face stern, left harsh by the ordeals that rested constantly on the edge of his mind. He wore chainmail, with a black cloak over it, and on the cloak was a snarling gray direwolf, the sigil of the Starks. He had lost his helmet back in Kings Landing during his flight. Under his chain mail, he kept the cloak Myrcella had knit and worn during their impromptu wedding. Over his cloak he wore his scabbards, with swords handles on either side, and his bow over that. His quiver hung from his left hip, and a dagger resided on the other. A pouch on that same side was filled with his throwing knives, and a third pouch, hidden at his back beneath his cloak, was the nearly eighteen hundred gold dragons that Tor had left of what he'd brought with him. At his side, stalked his constant companion, a direwolf with fur as dark as his cloak, and eyes that nearly glowed.
Tor cut a striking figure as he walked off the deck of the ship, and made his way into the crowds walking along the docks. He made his way towards the gates into the city, but was stopped by a guard at the gate.
"Name and purpose." He stated blandly, as though he had done this hundreds of times, and would do it hundreds more.
"My name is Torrhen Stark and I'm here to see if Qarth is as great as they say."
"So visiting." The guard's voice was flat. Tor nodded, and the scribe to the guards right began scribbling on a piece of parchment.
"Could you tell me where the nearest inn is within the city? The nearest high class one preferably."
The guard looked him over, "You sure you can afford it?" Tor took a glance at the city that surrounded him.
"Mid-class then." Tor coughed. The guard gave a light smile at that and gave him some directions to a decent place to stay the night.
The inn was a decent place, considered Torrhen, as he looked at the accommodations. Mid-class had been the way to go as it had still cost him five dragons for a week, and the lady who managed the inn said that the high class could charge upwards of fifty dragons a week, manageable, but not ideal. The wealth in this inn seemed much more homely anyway, sort of like Winterfell. It was nice, but not overstated as the Capital was. The room was probably thirty by twenty, the bed had a feather mattress, and the sheets were silk. The decorations were sparse, but there was a plant on the small desk in the corner. It was more than fine for his meager possessions.
When he had himself sorted, he sat down on the bed and leaned against the headboard, Shadow's head in his lap. He warged into Seeker then, who was still flying over the city. He wanted to know more of the dangers here before he made any moves.
The next week passed quickly, and Torrhen learned much. The guilds of the city knew that Torrhen Stark, the slayer of Robert Baratheon was in the city, that much he had found out. He'd tracked the scribe and the paper his name was on as it found its way to the Thirteen, the Pureborn, and the Tourmaline Brotherhood. He had sat his raven by the windows of rooms where powerful meetings took place, and had come to the conclusion that they didn't care for him much, all but one. One man was quite interested in him, he found. Xaro Xhoan Daxos, a prominent member of the Thirteen, a merchant prince, and the host of Daenerys Targaryen and her small group.
Apparently, based on what he'd gathered, Viserys Targaryen was dead, as was Khal Drogo, and with him, the Khalassar, but for a few loyal to their Khaleesi. What was most astounding to Torrhen though, were the dragons. Mother of Dragons they called her, for she had hatched three. Tor had not seen them yet, spending most of his time following Xaro, rather than his guests, but still, dragons. He'd been investigating Xaro heavily when he'd learned that he was why Daenerys Targaryen and her dragons were let into the city. He had an ulterior motive, and Tor had spent a week searching for it.
For all Xaro's skills, he left rather obvious hints. He had an impenetrable vault that no one could break into, supposedly filled with riches. He had offered to marry Daenerys Targaryen and share his wealth in order for his children to be Princes and Princesses. The only problem was, the clues Xaro left led Torrhen to believe that Xaro was broke, or near enough. His house was beautiful, and seemed opulent, but he had cheated his way out of paying several ship captains that Tor had seen so far, and charged prices far higher than was reasonable. Tor had flown in an open window once, when Xaro had left the room, and read some of the documents on his desk. He was spending just as much as he was making, so either profits were low these days, or he was spending everything he could make to maintain his opulent lifestyle, and this marriage to Daenerys would be a clean slate for him.
Tor knew Xaro was searching for him. He wanted to meet him, get him on his side, and use the goodwill he would gain with introducing Daenerys to the Usurper King's killer, to convince her of marriage. The good news was Tor wanted to be found. So, he patiently waited for Xaro to track down the guard, find out the inn he'd recommended, and come to him. It seemed today was the day.
"My name is Xaro Xhoan Daxos, you are Ser Torrhen Stark, Kingslayer, I've come with an offer." The man smiled as he entered Tor's room, his opulent robe swinging elegantly behind him, the key to his vault, hanging from his neck. Tor studied him briefly, for all intents and purposes, he seemed a genuine, humble, supremely rich merchant. He knew better. The man had secrets, and Tor knew one of them.
"It's an honor to meet you my Lord. I would gladly hear your offer." Tor gestured to the two chairs he had in his room, "Would you like a seat?"
Xaro smiled, "How about we take a walk instead? Is that agreeable?" Tor nodded in agreement, and the two swept out of the room, Tor's direwolf padding at his heels. When they exited the inn, Xaro's guards fell in sync a few paces behind them. Xaro opened the conversation as they walked, slowly heading towards the most grandiose areas of Qarth.
"If you are not already aware, Daenerys Targaryen resides in this city as my guest, and with her, three dragons." Xaro licked his lips before continuing. "You killed the man that deposed her father, and she would be grateful to meet you, and in turn grateful to me. You see, I intend to marry her, to see my children as Prince or Princess one day, but she has denied me in favor of asking the other merchants for ships, though she has been unsuccessful. This would go a long way into making her indebted to me. What would you like in return for meeting with her in my name?" Xaro looked to the young Stark speculatively.
Luckily, Tor had thought on this for the few days since he had discovered Xaro's intentions, and was quick with his response. "I would not mind a stay in your home for the rest of my stay in this city. It would allow me more time to meet with this Daenerys Targaryen. You see, I killed the King, but his brothers aren't fit to sit on the throne either. I would like to see if she is worthy of it. If she is, then you and her may have found an ally in your goal. I still hold much sway with my father and siblings in the North after all." Torrhen wasn't actually sure how much sway he held with his father anymore. He could still hear his voice yelling "After him!" as he ran. He could only pray that his father was merely playing a part. Still, dragons would be quite useful if Jon and his theory turned out to hold merit.
Xaro considered his request. "That is a small price for such a large potential reward. How can I say no?" Xaro laughed, and Tor gave one of his own, "How indeed?" He muttered softly. The two continued chatting all the way back to Xaro's mansion. It was Torrhen's first time seeing it in person and he could not help but be impressed. He could see why Xaro was broke, it would be quite expensive to maintain this, as well as his personal fleet in the harbor.
Tor was escorted through his home, taking the longest way, he noted, to show off his home's extravagance. When they came to the room of the Mother of Dragons, Xaro knocked softly. The door was opened by a Dothraki woman with dark hair who called out behind her in Dothraki. The answering call was in the common tongue.
"Let them in!" Xaro walked in first and began speaking.
"I have brought you a gift, Daenerys, a conversation with a man you have heard much about. Ser Torrhen Stark, the boy who killed his king."
Tor entered the room then and took in his surroundings. It was a fine room, with books lining the walls. There were three cages on a desk to the side and he frowned internally. Those were likely for the dragons. So she could not control them? He wiped those thoughts away and his eyes turned to meet the one he was here to see.
Daenerys Targaryen was a beautiful woman by any standards, Tor saw, but his mind still saw only one woman, and she was gone now. She was wearing a blue and gold half dress, with pants underneath. It was not in the Qartheen style thankfully, or Tor likely would have blushed horribly. She was sixteen and a bit, he knew, for she was born a few months after the rebellion ended. Her face seemed kind, her violet eyes shone with gratitude to a man she did not know, for a deed that he did not do for her.
"Ser Torrhen, it's an honor to meet you. I feel I must thank you for what you did. You have given justice and vengeance to my family." She gave a sweet smile towards the younger man.
"You owe me no thanks. I didn't do it for your vengeance, only my own. Even still, it is an honor to be made your acquaintance as well, Princess Daenerys." Tor gave his best smile, and was rewarded by the faintest of blushes. 'So it's all princesses then, rather than just Myrcella' Tor's smile turned pained. Daenerys seemed to notice, as her own smile faded slightly. She turned to the other occupants of the room.
"I would speak to him alone, if that is alright?" She commanded/asked Xaro. The man gave a slight bow, and the occupants of the room filtered out. Daenerys gestured to a desk, where two chairs sat in front of it. It was, notably, not the one with the cages, and asked him to sit. When the two were sitting next to each other, the Princess spoke first.
"Who is your companion?" She gestured to the wolf by Tor's feet.
He smiled, "This is Shadow, my direwolf, and the only member of my family that I could bring with me." 'My pack'
"May I?" She reached out her hand hesitantly. Tor looked down at Shadow, who did not seem to mind, he was merely staring curiously at the cages on the other desk.
"Of course."
Daenerys pet the wolf softly. She gave a quiet gasp, "It's so soft." She giggled when the wolf gave a content whine and placed his head in her lap. Tor observed all this silently. She seemed quite innocent to be honest, almost naive, though Tor knew that could not be the case, not after some of the stories he'd heard. Still, she did not seem to be infected with the madness that was so prevalent in her family. He would reserve his judgment. He had time after all.
"As glad as I am to meet you Ser, I would ask why you've come to see me?" She questioned, still looking at the wolf.
Tor obliged her with the truth, all of it, for he saw no reason to lie. "I've come for two reasons. The first is not my own. Xaro Xhoan Daxos asked me to see you so that he might earn more favor with you. He wants to marry you, as I'm sure you know." Tor snorted. "He probably wouldn't be happy about me telling you that." Daenerys gave a little laugh at that as well. "My other reason is my own curiosity. When I left Westeros, the King was dead. Now his brother's both vie for the throne. I've met the younger brother, and he would be a poor ruler. If two Baratheon's could not rule, the third likely couldn't either. I have come to see what kind of Queen you would be." Daenerys Stormborn turned her attention to Tor completely then. "My name is Torrhen Stark, after King Torrhen Stark, The King who Knelt, my ancestor. I was named after him because my father helped King Robert end the Targaryen dynasty. We knelt to the dragons, but the dragons are gone… Or at least they were." Tor turned his head to the boxes then, the girl across from him followed his gaze. "I'm here to see if my family will ever kneel to them again."
She turned to stare at him then, as if judging him. "Would you tell me what happened in the throne room?" Her voice was soft, soothing. "I have heard rumors, and I'm sorry if they're true." Tor's face became pained..
"It is not a happy tale, nor is it a tale of valor or honor or bravery. It is a tale of failure, vengeance, and death. You do not want to hear it." but she only continued to look at him softly, and Tor's heart clenched, for he remembered when Myrcella had that same soft look, that empathy on her face, that compassion. So Tor closed his eyes, and he told her.
"My father came to the capital to investigate Jon Arryn's death. I came to protect my family from the schemers there, and to marry the Princess Myrcella. We spent months there, and I fell in love with her, and she with me. So when my father and I found out the truth Lord Arryn was killed for, that the King's children were not his own, I could not lie to her then. I went to her and told her what we'd learnt. That night, we married. I did not care if she was a bastard. My favorite brother is a bastard. So we snuck into the Godswood, and I had my father marry us, with my little sister as a witness." Tor took a moment to get back together, bringing his hand to his chest where Myrcella's cloak resided. "Those next few months were wonderful, as I continued searching for a clue as to who her real father was. When I found it, the horrible truth, I told her. She was the child of Cersei and Jamie Lannister. She decided, against my advice, that we should tell the King. That he wouldn't kill the girl who had been his daughter for nearly fourteen years. My father was similarly against it, but she told us she would go behind our backs if we did not agree. So we went along with it. We reasoned that if we were there, we could stop the King from doing something rash." Tor gave a bitter laugh. "We were wrong. When the Queen confessed, said she was glad that none of her children were the Kings, that they'd steal his throne without him even realizing it. The King went into a rage, ordered his guards to cut all their throats. I was too late to stop it. I threw a knife but the guard cut her first. It wasn't deep enough to kill her quickly. She died in my arms, telling me that it wasn't my fault, that no one can protect someone from themselves. I'm not sure if I believe her." Tor shook his head, tears were falling silently from Daenerys face, but he did not notice, lost in his memories.
"The King had killed for vengeance, so would I. But he killed the children too, they had done no wrong, and I would not be like him. I killed the two guards who slit Tommen and Joffrey's throats, but I knocked out the three Kingsguard with the blunt ends of my throwing knives. I knocked over the still stunned King, and I chopped off his head. I felt nothing in that moment. I did not feel joy at killing him, nor pleasure, nor guilt. I did not feel vindicated or satisfied. I felt nothing at his death, but I would do it again. Even Kings and Queens should not be above justice, above death" His voice was a whisper at this point. "I spoke to my father for a moment, and then I ran while the guards still looked at the head of their fallen king. I bought passage on a ship and here I am."
Daenerys had tears still in her eyes at his story. She reached out and grabbed his arm, "I know what it's like to lose your beloved, I'm sorry."
Tor looked down at her hand on his forearm, and he wondered if she did truly understand his pain. "Would you tell me your story, how you got here?" He gave her a comforting smile. "It's only fair." She looked at him for a moment, silently judging him, before nodding.
"My brother Viserys and I, we grew up on the streets. They called my brother the Beggar King, for that is how we survived. Eventually, we reached Pentos, and Magister Illyrio took us in. My brother started to become obsessed with our history then, and began looking for a way to gain the Iron Throne. So he sold me to Khal Drogo for an army, or so he believed." She sighed. "I did not want to marry then. I just wanted to go home. At my marriage I wasn't sure what to think, the Dothraki's customs were so different from all I knew. I was given my dragons then, still eggs at the time, thought to be nothing more than relics turned to stone." She smiled at the thought. "As we traveled, I began trying to fit in with the Khalassar. If I was to be their Queen, their Khaleesi, I had to be one of them. It wasn't until I became pregnant that I began to love Drogo, though I am starting to understand now that it was love born of duty." Tor was surprised, he had called the Khal her beloved before, but he had not known she was pregnant. No wonder the king had wanted to assassinate her, and his father hadn't wanted to be a part of it. He glanced down at her flat stomach, and realized she did not have the child anymore. Daenerys noticed his look and she smiled grimly. "We came to Vaes Dothrak, so that I could be recognized as Khaleesi. While there, my brother threatened myself and my unborn child because he felt he was not respected by the Khalasar, not like me. He felt that he would never get his army. With his sword at my stomach, Khal Drogo promised him his crown, and Viserys backed off. He was seized by Drogo's men, and Drogo gave him his crown." She lost herself in the memory, and Tor could not tell if she seemed sad, regretful, or happy.
"Drogo dumped a pile of gold necklaces into a pot over the fire. When they had melted, he took the pot and dumped it on Viserys' head. I still remember his screams. I remember Drogo's words, 'A crown for a King' he said, and I remember the thump when his head, heavy with gold, hit the ground." She lost herself in thought for a minute, and Tor was content to observe her. She came out of her thoughts with no prompting from him.
"Then he promised me the Iron Throne. He promised he would burn the keeps, steal the crops, and rape the women." She laughed. "I'm not sure how I came to love him. We continued to travel after that. When the Khalassar next raided a village, I came to learn that in some ways, they truly were savages. I claimed the women so that they wouldn't be raped, and Drogo fought a man to defend my honor. He killed him, but sustained an injury. A witch from the group of women I'd saved offered to help with his wound. I convinced Drogo to let her help." Daenerys sneered then, her face vengeful, before it dropped suddenly, as if it wasn't worth the effort to keep up. "She said she did her best. Drogo got infected. He was dying. The Khalassar came to a stop. I was warned not to trust the witch, but she convinced me she could save his life, but everyone had to leave the tent, all but me. She did her magic then, and Drogo lived, but he was not whole. His mind was gone, I do not know if he was truly alive at all. There was a price she said. She tricked me. 'Only death pays for life' she told me. My baby was dead, and it was her fault, and mine. So I built a pyre, put the witch in it, along with my dragon eggs, and I walked into the flames. My dragons were born with fire and blood."
Tor stared at her as she finished her story. He knew she really did understand his pain, the pain of losing someone you had grown to love, and the guilt of knowing it was partly your fault. He sighed lightly, she seemed a good person, but a good ruler? He supposed he would soon find out. 'Enough heavy thoughts for now.'
"I have one question. You're fireproof?" Daenerys looked at him oddly, then she let out a giggle, which turned into a laugh, and Tor joined her. When they calmed down, the Targaryen woman inquired, "Was that really all you had to say?"
Tor conceded her question. "I just thought someone needed to lighten the mood. It was getting heavy in here. Still, I'm sorry for your loss." He let the words sink in for a moment, then clapped his hands, "Now, you've met my companion, may I meet yours?"
Daenerys considered the young man before her. They had not known each other long, but she felt a kinship with him, a connection with the young man who had unwittingly avenged her family. She had told him more than most alive knew about her, she could share one more thing. "Sure."
She stood up slowly, allowing Shadow to whine at the sudden loss of contact, and held out a hand to Tor. He took it and she helped pull him to his feet. She let go quickly and made her way towards the cages, humming lightly as she opened them.
Torrhen walked over to her as she pulled the first dragon out. Tor gasped. It was magnificent, with black and red scales all over. It was quite small, only a few feet with its tail stretched out, but he could easily imagine a bigger version laying waste to a castle with fire.
"This is Drogon." Daenerys revealed, smiling at the reptile. It snorted cutely, a slight huff of smoke coming out of its nose.
"May I pet him?" Tor nearly begged. She tilted her head.
"You can try. If he doesn't attempt to bite you, you should be okay." Torn nodded at that and approached Daenerys, Drogon sitting on her shoulder. The little dragon eyed him suspiciously as he approached, but no more than that. Hesitantly, he reached out with his mind and hand at the same time, not enough to warg, but enough to convey his delight at meeting the legendary creature. He felt the warm scales of the animal as he rested his hand on its shoulder. It let out a happy hiss, and Torrhen broke into a smile, petting it with less apprehension.
Daenerys allowed Drogon to climb onto Tor's shoulder as she went and brought out her other two dragons. One was green and bronze, with yellow tinted wings, whom Daenerys called Rhaegal, and a cream and gold one, called Viserion. Torrhen and Daenerys sat on the ground and played with the animals that would grow to be fearsome beasts someday. They laughed when Viserion climbed onto Shadows' back, apparently curious at the large amount of fur.
"Why do you cage them?" Asked Tor softly. Daenerys looked surprised at his question.
"I suppose I just assumed they would run away or be taken from me." She seemed uncomfortable. Torrhen waved to Drogon, who was now curled contentedly in the young woman's lap.
"Do they look as if they're going to try and run away? They adore you. And a small cage like that is just as likely to be stolen, maybe even more since they can't run from their kidnappers." Daenerys looked down at the young dragon in her lap, "I suppose not."
"They may grow more if you keep them out. Dragon's seem like animals that would not do well in cages." He smiled wryly. "The Targaryen's dragons died out in the dragon pit, maybe that was why." Tor shrugged.
Daenerys looked at Tor surprised, as if she'd never considered it before. They sat in comfortable silence for the next few minutes.
"What is life like in the North?" Daenerys broke the silence. "I have not been in Westeros since I was a baby. I would appreciate it if you could tell me stories of your home, your childhood."
They spoke for a few hours after that, him speaking of his childhood, his siblings, his parents, his hobbies, what he learned. In return, she told him of her own memories, of Viserys, good and bad, of her earliest days spent in a house with a red door, and of her and Viserys cast out on the streets. When the sun set, and it came time for Tor to leave, Daenerys grabbed his hands before he could leave.
"Will you come back?" She seemed almost longing, as if he was the first real friend she'd ever had. 'Maybe I am' Tor realized. She had only had her brother when she was younger, and the ones around her now saw her as their Queen, their Khaleesi. He smiled at her.
"I didn't tell you? Xaro is letting me stay here until I leave Qarth, which will likely be a while." She smiled then. They parted ways after that. He found a servant outside the door who led him to his own quarters.
As Tor lay in bed that night, he stared at the ceiling and thought about his new acquaintance, his new friend. Daenerys Targaryen was a genuinely good person. Empathetic, compassionate, and kind. She loved those who followed her fiercely, and they seemed like they loved her in return. She would make a good Queen, as long as she had capable advisors at her side. In a few years, she could win Westeros, when her dragon's grew, and she would need people that could win the people to her side. When he'd spent a little more time with her, he would make his decision, but for now, he would sleep.
Across the mansion, Daenerys Targaryen lay in her own bed, though unlike the past few nights, her dragons surrounded her, uncaged and free, caring only for their mothers affections. She mused on the man she had met before. Torrhen Stark was passionate and wild, but loving and protective. He had ended the reign of the man who killed her oldest brother, all to avenge his wife. He was probably her first friend that isn't attached to her by other means. He wasn't her servant, her subject, or her sworn sword. He was just her friend. He had also revealed something important to her. She pulled her dragons nearer to her. He had shown her that her dragons should not be caged. A mother should help her children to grow, not keep them under lock and key. Yes, Torrhen Stark was a good man.
The next few weeks passed much the same. Torrhen interacted mostly with the servants around the house and Daenerys, as their host was often off managing his slowly dying empire. He spent several hours with the Princess each day, asking about her beliefs, values, and philosophies, trying to get an accurate measure of the young woman. She, in return, asked for his. Shadow and the three dragons were getting on famously, Shadow play fighting with them, or simply curling up for a nap with the three small dragons piling on.
Tor found that for all Daenerys' kindness and compassion, and seemingly gentle spirit, she could be quite fiery and passionate. She was very proud of her ancestry, and her dragons. She did not know much about politics, or ruling, but that could be learnt, Torrhen felt. Being a good person on the other hand, was not something easily taught.
On one of the few days that Xaro was present, he and Daenerys walked through his garden, with Tor and a few of Daenerys' guards walking behind, Shadow pattered about in the trees beyond them. Xaro and the Princess were talking about Daenerys' attempts to gain ships and resources to depart for Westeros.
"The Spice King refuses me because I'm a bad investment." The Mother of Dragons ranted to Xaro. "The Silk King won't support me because of his business with the Lannister's. Why offend his best customer?" Wry amusement filled her voice, a mocking smile on her face. "And the Copper King offers me a single ship on the condition that I lie with him for a night. Does he think I will whore myself for a boat?" She mutters the last part. Tor didn't know whether to snort at the stupidity of the Copper King, or be disgusted at his blatant repulsiveness.
Xaro replied to Daenerys' rant with his own story. "When I came to this city, I had nothing. Truly… nothing. I slept by the docks." The small group began to draw near the rich merchant's house, turning down a flight of steps, Xaro still speaking. "When I could find work loading the ships I would eat, if not, I dreamt of food. Today, I am the richest man in Qarth. Do you think the path from poverty to wealth is always pure and honorable?" Tor blinked at his words. Was Xaro telling Daenerys to whore herself out for a boat? Or was he trying to entice her to him again. "I have done many things, Khaleesi, that a righteous man would condemn. And here I am, with no regrets." He gestured to the door leading into his courtyard. Tor sniffed the air, was that… blood? The group began walking into the courtyard.
They stared, scattered about were Daenerys' guard, dead on the ground, Xaro's own men dead beside them. Daenerys eyes widened in realization and fear, before running towards the house, and presumably, her dragons. Tor began to follow her even as Xaro began shouting instructions to his men. They ran past numerous dead, passing over a dozen guards, leading up the stairs towards where her dragons had been staying. The three dragons had laid to rest on their mothers bed, for though it was the middle of the day, they were very young, and reptiles could be quite lazy. When Daenerys, with Tor, her guard, and Xaro on her heels, reached an empty room, she began speaking in terror.
"Where are they?" She spotted the body of her attendant dead on the ground, and she knelt next to her. Her voice trembled as she yet out a pained cry. "Where are my dragons?!" She looked back at the group who had followed her. Tor saw her face, she looked wild, dangerous, and enraged. But under that was concern, fear, and terror. Her children, or the replacements for the child she lost were missing, and she didn't know what to do. Tor took a step forward and knelt next to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I will help you get them back."
Tor clenched the hand that wasn't on her shoulder tight. He did not make his promises in vain. He had spent a lot of time with those dragons in the past few weeks. They had grown on him, and he was loath to let anyone harm them. And Daenerys was his friend, and he would never be someone who abandoned his friends.