The difference in size between the previous fighting pit and the Great Pit of Daznak was quite remarkable. One had no room for a public audience; the one Daenerys was in was overflowing with people from across the city, and others areas around the bay. She couldn't believe how so many thought of this as entertainment, their apparent blood lust sickening her. She realised that her distaste towards the fighting pits probably originated from the stories she was told as a child of how people would watch dragons fight in similar pits when they were still alive, each generation smaller than the last due to their captivity. To pay to see dragons fight to the death was one awful thing, but for it to be actual humans….she couldn't wrap her head around it.
She found herself in a similar position to her last time in a pit - perched on the centre throne on the stage, although this one was raised much higher on stone. A number of lords sat behind her, and behind them were the stands of fans; rows and rows of people eagerly anticipating the action that was to come. The sooner she left this place, the better. She looked over at Hizdahr zo Loraq, who was sat with the Meereenese lords, eating fruit and drinking fine wines. At least someone is enjoying themselves. For some unknown reason, she felt on edge ever since she stepped foot inside the arena. She passed it off as apprehension of the gruesome displays she would be actively encouraging, but the sense of foreboding continued to niggle away at her. Daario seemed to pick up on her unease as he stepped towards her.
"Are you okay, my queen?" She only nodded in reply and, although that didn't reassure him much, he backed away to his previous position, standing guard by her side. He knew that whatever was wrong with her could not be helped by any words he'd muster. Her problems were often too complex for him; he often worried that, one day, he'd simply be left behind. He was stood by Barristan Selmy, who had recovered well enough to supervise the goings on. He shook his head slightly at the shortcomings of the younger man. Their relationship was always going to be a flash in the pan.
Tyrion, Varys and Missandei stood together on the stage, observing the crowds file in quickly. Tyrion had wanted to become acquainted with the former slave and now seemed like a perfect opportunity to do so. Varys didn't have the foresight to stop him from rambling on.
"We haven't yet properly spoken, you and I." He got a polite smile in response. "You're not a talker."
"Or maybe she just refuses to speak with people like your good self, Tyrion," Varys quipped.
"Is she against dwarves?"
"Probably just against randy, drunk men that constantly spout nonsense, polluting our minds." Missandei bit back some laughter at that.
"I don't know why you find that so funny! I'd take a randy, drunk man over a bald eunuch everyday."
"That's because you're incredibly egotistical and narcissistic." Tyrion just huffed at that comment.
"When there's time available, I am sure that your company will be most welcome," Missandei spoke quietly.
"See, she does like me! And I think there was flirting in there."
"Only you would think that as flirting. She is simply being polite, a rare commodity that you, frankly, do not possess."
"I'm only impolite to you, Lord Varys, because you seem driven by the goal of infuriating me." Their bickering was brought to an end by the entrance of a number of fighters into the pit. They walked over to the stage in a line, all bearing an array of deadly looking weapons. Daenerys now knew what was expected of her, and she clapped her hands for the conquest to begin.
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"What are we going to do then?" Jorah was stood up, pacing the small room that they were in. He was incredibly nervous about Daenerys's wellbeing and was anxious to get out of here.
"I know you want to help her. That's perfectly understandable. But we need a proper plan. Otherwise we'll end up as dead as those guards." Bruda was currently acting out scenarios in his head; not many were ending well.
"Do you have a plan?" Jorah grumbled.
"Of course I do. We get out of here, help kill all the harpies and you run off into the sunset with your love."
"A realistic plan." It was no time for levity.
"It is a realistic plan. You need to realise that I'm more of a think-on-my-feet person. It's served me well so far. No point changing a winning formula. Now, get out of my way." Jorah did so, moving away from the door. Bruda balled his hands into a fist, concentrating hard. The knight watched in fascination as that golden glow returned, but this time it seemed darker and wilder. Before he could react, a golden beam shot from Bruda's hands. It forced the door off its hinges, it firing into the dark corridor. Bruda casually stepped out from their cell, looking around to see if any harpies were still around.
"It's a good job we weren't chained to the wall," Jorah quietly said.
"Ohhh…that's not very nice." Jorah was confused as to what had caused Bruda's outburst but then looked behind the door where he was, seeing a Harpy crushed by the door. Blood spattered over the wall. "I mean, I would have eventually killed him. But in a more graceful way. This just isn't enjoyable."
"I'm sure you'll be able to rectify that in a few moments." He was looking along the corridor, listening out for any harpies that had heard the commotion.
"Hopefully. I've been cooped up in that room for far too long. I want some fun."
"This isn't fun, we're saving Daenerys."
"Yes, yes," Bruda muttered, as they walked towards the exit. "But who says I can't enjoy it a little?"
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The fighting was gruesome but Daenerys made sure she kept watching so she didn't run the risk of upsetting any of the crowd. She did flinch slightly when one of the men had a sword go cleanly through the top of his head. He collapsed to his knees, before his lifeless body slumped to the sand. Yet the victory was short lived as the other fighter's head soon was detached from his soldiers, flying some distance in the air. Tyrion swore it was still blinking as it soared against the backdrop of the clear, blue sky.
A number of other men fell in a short period of time. The most noticeable was one of the larger fighters shockingly being killed by a thrown spear that pierced right through his back, ultimately ending up protruding out of his torso. Daenerys was counting down the minutes until this horror show would be over. And yet it was simply just beginning.
She knew something was wrong when she heard a woman shriek behind her in terror. She quickly turned around, standing up in her chair. The first sight that greeted her was a man on the floor holding his throat as crimson blood trickled between his fingers. A woman, she presumed the one she had heard scream, was frantically trying to help but it was a fruitless task. Daenerys could tell that the life from the man's eyes was gone but she now had more pressing concerns because she then spotted the golden masks of the Sons of Harpy slowly converge on the stage. There seemed to be hundreds of them leaking from the crowds. She was perplexed and annoyed as to how so many had made their way into the arena; if she survived this, the Unsullied guards would feel her wrath. It was Daario who took her by the shoulders, pushing her towards the front of the stage so that they could get onto the sand, which would give them a better chance of taking on their numerous attackers. Tyrion and Varys, who had helped Missandei flee the stage just before, had managed to get down. Selmy had drawn his sword against the onrushing swarm, wanting to enact vengeance on the people who had almost taken his life. But he soon thought better of that, following the others into the open area. They made a tight circle in the centre of the fighting pit. Daenerys almost laughed at the fact that the men who had been trying to prove their worth by battling out mere moments before, had been one of the first people to flee the arena. She couldn't laugh though because they were slowly becoming surrounded.
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They were running as fast as their legs could carry them, making their way towards the Great Pit. They had acquired a sword each from some fallen Harpies that had obviously succumbed to the Unsullied guards. Jorah's heart was pounding, images of Daenerys's broken body strewn against the murky floor filling his head. He had to put those to one side though otherwise he'd have no chance to rectify that. He was surprised by how fast Bruda was going for a man of his age; he suspected that it had something to do with his magic.
"If all the harpies are in that pit, then we won't be enough to save everybody." Jorah shouted over the wind roaring against his ears.
"We need backup then. And thankfully there's plenty milling about this city." He looked over to a group of Unsullied soldiers who were patrolling the streets, unaware of the carnage taking place near to them. Bruda came to a halt, prompting Jorah to do the same in confusion. "Oyyyy!" he shouted towards the guards, causing them to turn their attention on the pair. "Aren't you meant to be keeping us in a cell somewhere?". Both the eyes of the guards and Jorah widened at that. "Yeah, we need to be running again now." The Unsullied had started at a fast pace towards them and Bruda shot off, Jorah lagging slightly behind.
"Why did you do that? Now we have to contend with them when we have other things to focus on!"
"We don't have a lot of time. You wanted some help, I got it for you. If you want, you can stop and try to explain to those lovely chaps the situation." Jorah glanced back, put off by the anger in their eyes. He picked up his pace as they got closer to their destination.
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An Unsullied soldier fell right in front of her, his throat slit by a Harpy blade. She backed away from the dead body, observing it in fear. She had already seen a number of people die today, some for entertainment, some to send a message to her. Selmy had been caught on his left arm but that wasn't stopping him carry on fighting, taking out an onrusher as he neared Missandei. As the body hit the sand, she bent down and took the blade that had fallen simultaneously; she would not stand idly by like a pathetic little girl whilst people she knew fought around her. Daario had taken on a trio of attackers, holding his own for the time being, parrying each probe of a sword. With Varys and Tyrion pretty much useless in this scenario, Daenerys had been left perilously isolated in the ensuing chaos. And one of the harpies was stalking towards her, drawing his sword.
A sword flew in the air towards him and he crashed to the floor, dead before he had even noticed the pain. Daenerys looked around startled, trying to find her saviour. And she spotted him, stood by the entrance. Bruda had improvised; both him and Jorah had seen the approaching assailant, with the knight breaking into a run in the vein attempt to save her. Bruda had known he wouldn't make it in time and had wrapped the sword he was carrying in a coat of swirling energy before launching it. Thankfully it had worked. But it wasn't the time to admire his handiwork - he quickly rushed over to where a sword was on the floor and proceded to continue the fight.
Jorah and Daenerys locked eyes across the madness. He couldn't really tell what emotions were being displayed on her face. It seemed like...relief? At the same time, Daenerys couldn't quite get a grasp on what she was feeling as she saw the knight approach her. Despite all he had done, she still felt more secure now with him there. She suddenly had the feeling that she would survive this.
The Mormont knight slashed his long sword across the stomach of a harpy. Their lack of armour made the job so much easier but what they had on their side was their sheer numbers. Whenever one was taken out, another three seemed to take his place. He eventually reached the crowd of people in the centre of the arena, nodding at Tyrion, who didn't show the shock he felt at seeing Jorah. He was just happy to have someone else fighting on their side. The Unsullied soldiers that had followed Bruda and Jorah, quickly forgetting their initial targets to fight the numerous rebels, just weren't going to be enough against these odds.
A circle had formed, consisting of Jorah, Bruda, Daario and Selmy. They protected the others, providing a line of defence, making sure that Daenerys especially did not die. But soon they would be overwhelmed. The defenders began to take hits; Selmy was on his last legs, his age beginning to catch up to him; Bruda had been cut across his left cheek (he had promptly sent that Harpy flying into the wall with an angry flick of his wrist). They needed a pure miracle.
Bruda concentrated, holding his arms out straight, palms facing outwards, as he closed his eyes. That similar golden light began to wave around his hands. Tyrion's eyes went wide at the display; Daenerys admired the pure beauty of it but was wondering what it would achieve. Her thoughts were answered as the energy spread out to form a dome, shimmering around them. The Harpies stopped, tentative around the unknown force. A reprieve for Daenerys's team. Beads of sweat were beginning to glisten Bruda's face, his teeth gritted in strain.
"I...can't hold this bloody thing long. We don't stand a chance against these fucking numbers. But it seems that we're in luck." The wind around them swirled viciously, the sand being lifted in spirals. The flapping of large, leathery wings filled the air. A screech, a blood-curdling sound, could be heard and then, just in front of them, a blaze of fire scorched through the Harpies, decimating their numbers rapidly. The beast landed heavily on the ground and Daenerys beamed, tears brimming in her eyes. Drogon had come, sensing the distress of his mother. He roared in the face of his opponents, prompting some to attempt to flee. One of them (Daenerys didn't know whether he was brave or reckless) got too close to the dragon's mouth, being picked up in its jaws before being torn into two, blood spraying over the sand. The display was both gruesome and majestic. "I think it's time I ended this needless bloodshed." At that, Bruda lowered his arms quickly, sending the dome to surge out. It didn't harm Drogon but it knocked the several harpies to the floor unconscious. A silence settled on the arena, apart from the huffs emanating from the huge beast.
Daenerys approached her child. He turned his head sharply towards her. She stopped slightly before confidently continuing and, as she got closer, she reached out her hand towards his head. He lowered it slightly, and she smiled appreciatively. The others watched, letting them have their moment, before they began the cleaning up process. Jorah stepped towards Daenerys cautiously, not wanting to interrupt her.
"You probably know him as well as me," she whispered. Jorah was shocked that she spoke first.
"Aye. I helped raise them. Drogon was always a bit more boisterous than the others." She laughed lightly.
"Truer words never spoken. And yet, if that wasn't the case, we'd probably be dead by now." Jorah remained silent as she stroked Drogon's snout. "And I'd more than likely be dead if it wasn't for you." He still didn't trust himself to speak. "You betrayed me."
"I did," he muttered, hanging his head in shame.
"I sent you away. I imprisoned you." He was expecting her to, this time, tell him that he had crossed the line, pushed her too far. "And yet when I saw you, this irrational feeling of relief and happiness washed over me. Can you explain to me why?"
"I don't know, my queen."
"I think it's because you have helped, advised and saved me over the years I have known you, You may have once gone against me, but I now realise that you have done more for me than anyone. I will forever be grateful to and for having you."
"I don't know what to say."
"Say yes. Say that you'll accept my apology and help me claim the throne."
"It would be my honour." He smiled at that, properly for the first time in a long time. She reciprocated it and they stood there for a few moments, looking at each other.
"I hate to break up such a heartwarming moment…" Bruda had sidled up next to them, a slight grin sent towards Jorah.
"Warlock Bruda. A pleasure to see you again." Her tone was slightly sarcastic.
"Well I was just passing by. Heard the commotion, thought I'd help out."
"Passing by? Last thing I knew, you were in a cell with Jorah."
"I don't remember that. Interesting."
"I'm curious as to how you got out." He waved his hand, producing a delicate flower and handing it over to her. He winked at Jorah, who was less than impressed. "But I took your staff."
"You did. I'd like that back actually. It was a good thought, taking it from me. An incorrect one, but nice try anyway. The staff is just more of a showpiece, makes me look more intimidating." Before he could continue, they were interrupted by an unexpected voice.
"My queen, you're safe! I was incredibly worried." It was Hizdahr. Daenerys noted that he didn't seem dirty or covered in blood, which was the case for all of them.
"Why hello there," Bruda greeted him, taking a step towards the lord. "Just stop there for me."
"Excuse me? Who are you?"
"A passer by. From what I suspect, you were sat with the other lords, which I believe would have been on the stage. Am I correct in this?" Daenerys nodded. "How very peculiar. Because you must have angered those lords by siding with this lovely woman here. And judging from what I saw, you would have been right next to where the Harpies attacked from, meaning you probably should have been the first to die."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Just...shush. Please. Because what fascinates me is that, if you were the first possible target, and you didn't make it off the stage, since I didn't see you fighting, then you should be dead." Hizdahr's expression turned dark. He unsheathed a blade that was hidden in his sleeve but, before he could lunge towards any of them, he was stopped by a nonchalant wave of Bruda's hand. He took the knife out of his hand and cast a spell over it. "Oh that's nasty. A mixture of poisons on the tip here. So, your colleagues didn't succeed so you thought you'd finish the job. Bold move. An incorrect one to make, but bold nonetheless."
"She's ruining our city. She thinks she can simply change the way we live then move on. She deserves to perish. All these deaths are her fault; if she'd drank that glass of wine I gave her the other day, then this wouldn't have had to happen." He spat at her feet. Daenerys thought back to that night, and how Varys had made sure to take the glass. She looked over at him, seeing him nod slightly.
"Sadly, you're mistaken. Well, one death today will be down to her." Bruda turned the blade towards her, handing her the hilt. "Don't worry, the poison is gone." She looked at the small knife and then towards the hateful eyes of the lord. She stepped towards him, looked him in the eyes and unceremoniously slashed the metal across his throat, leaving him to writhe on the ground.
"I think it's time we all reconvened," she said to them, before walking away from the dying man.