Chapter 8

Author's Notes: Sorry again for the delay, this not much I can say for this just once again, school got in the way. Hopefully everyone will enjoy the chapter and continue reading like you have been.

Spencer lay on her bed. Around her, the other handmaids had fallen asleep long ago. Spencer could not.

She had spent the evening contemplating her next move. Her hand did the chores but her mind wandered. The Khaleesi had asked for her. No, had invited her to her cabin. She wasn't sure whether to be afraid or excited. She was curious, and in the end, the curiosity had won the battle. Once she heard Ser Jorah leave his cabin above her, she had decided to see what the Khaleesi had wanted from her. Various situations rushed through her mind, most were centered on her true identity being unearthed and her immediate death following. If not her death, then being sold into slavery. Or kept as ransom while being fed on crumbs in the lower cabins where the sailors would leer at her and…she had stopped all her thoughts there.

As she had approached the door which was surprisingly open, she heard the murmur of voices. Believing it to be the Khaleesi and her handmaids, Spencer raised a hand to knock. The low burr of Ser Jorah's voice had stopped her. She watched through the sliver of the door as he had approached the Khaleesi while she dressed, kissed her and proclaimed his love for her. Spencer's heart had pained her in such a way when she had heard that declaration. This sensation was so sudden and new that Spencer could feel herself becoming faint, and dared not to be discovered at this very moment. She had turned around and returned to her cabin as quietly as she could, escaping any notice or suspicion. She had then heard Ser Jorah enter his cabin again and pace before laying down to sleep as well.

Spencer did not understand why she felt so different. When she heard Ser Jorah's proclamation she had understood his reasoning. The Khaleesi had no partner who could provide heirs to her throne. The Targaryen principles proved that she could take more than one husband at a time, three then given the privilege of riding alongside her on the dragons. That had been the Targaryen way for as long as anyone could remember. Ser Jorah's proposal, for all intents and purposes, was correct. And yet, the mere voicing of this had made Spencer's stomach turn.

She had not forgotten her dreams. The first time she had seen the Khaleesi as she rode into the khal with Ser Jorah had reminded her. The Khaleesi had been too far away for Spencer to see each feature but she recognized her from the girl in her dreams. Ser Jorah had led her quickly to another direction and Spencer had resigned herself to never gaining the chance to see the Khaleesi again. Then, as the months had gone by, marching and sailing to each of the Free Cities for the Khaleesi to once again gain her throne, Spencer had the chance to observe her again when they had camped by a river and she had been washing the linen. She could barely form a sentence then and she still could not manage to do that now in front of the Khaleesi. That afternoon had been her confirmation. Yet, Spencer had been disheartened. She knew she would never get the chance to know the Khaleesi let alone speak to her without any deference or the company of hundreds between and around them.

The Khaleesi had surprised her again. Today, as she stood watching the dragons she had been fascinated by since the first time she had seen them in the sky, the Khaleesi approached her again and requested her presence in the evening at her cabin. Spencer did not want to appear nervous or frightened, which she had been, but it could not be helped. Her few words in each answer made her appear so. I sounded as if I never learnt how to speak until a few years ago, Spencer berated herself. The invitation had given her hope. She had left the Khaleesi's presence in almost disbelief. Now she had come back to the real world. Her life had completely changed. She was nothing like her former stature and status had been. She had become another number, with no hope of ever regaining what she had lost. Let the Gods be with you Kyla, was Spencer's last thought as she drifted into her troubled slumber.

In the center of the Plaza of Pride stood a red brick fountain whose waters smelled of brimstone, and in the center of the fountain a monstrous harpy made of hammered bronze. She had a woman's face, with gilded hair, ivory eyes and pointed ivory teeth. Water gushed yellow from her breasts but in place of arms she had the wings of a bat or a dragon, her legs were the legs of an eagle and behind, she wore a scorpion's curled and venomous tail. The harpy of Ghis, Ashley thought. The harpy of Ghis had a thunderbolt in her claws. This is the harpy of Astapor.

"Tell the Westeroi whore to lower her eyes," the slaver Krazyns mo Nakloz complained to the slave girl who spoke for him. "I deal in meat not metal. The bronze is not for sale. Tell her to look at the soldiers. Even the dim purple eyes of a sunset savage can see how magnificent my creatures are, surely."

Krazny's High Valyrian was twisted and thickened by the characteristic growl of Ghis, and flavored here and there with words of slaver argot. Ashley understood everything he said, but she smiled and looked blankly at the slave girl, as if wondering what he might have said.

"The Good Master Kraznys asks, are they not magnificent?" The girl spoke the Common Tongue well for one who had never been to Westeros.

"They might be adequate to my needs," Ashley answered. It had been Ser Jorah's suggestion that she speak only Dothkari and the Common Tongue while in Astapor. Mormont is more clever than he looks. "I must consider carefully."

The slaver shrugged. "Tell her to consider quickly there are many other buyers. Only three days past I showed these same Unsullied to a corsair king who hopes to buy them all."

Ashley knew she would take more than a hundred, if she took any at all. She could hear Arstan's stick tapping on the ground steadily, showing his displeasure at this business. "Remind your Good Master of who I am before he decides to sell to others."

Yet her words did not move the plump perfumed slaver. "Tell the whore that if she requires a guide to our sweet city, Krazyns mo Nakloz will gladly serve her…and service her as well, if she is more woman than she looks."

"Good Master Krazyns would be most pleased to show you Astapor while you ponder Your Grace," the translator said.

"Tell her how pretty the pyramids are at night," the slaver growled. "Tell her I will lick the honey off her breasts, or allow her to lick honey off mine if she prefers."

"Astapor is most beautiful at dusk, Your Grace," said the slave girl.

"Thank the Good Master for his patient kindness," Ashley said, "and tell him I will think on all I learned here."

Ashley turned to leave but stilled when she spotted Spencer in the crowd. Jorah's kiss had awakened something in her she had not felt for some time. Lying in bed that night, she found herself wondering how it would be to have someone she loved squeezed in beside her in place of her handmaid. Sometimes she would close her eyes and dream of them, but it was never Jorah Mormont she dreamed of; her lover was always younger and more beautiful to behold, though their face remained a shifting shadow. Now, that face morphed more often than not into Spencer's face. It had scared her the first time. She wad woken up breathing heavily and wild-eyed. As time wore on she welcomed that face each night, looking forward to a day where she could see it in reality than a recurrent dream.

"Ser Jorah who is that girl?" Ashley asked.

"Which one Khaleesi?" Ser Jorah replied, his eyes searching the crowd.

"The one facing us. Fair hair, blue eyes. She seems to be one of your handmaids."

"Oh…that is Lysa, Your Grace."

"She has not been with us since the beginning has she? She seems like a Westeroi." Ashley questioned as she cast her gaze to Ser Jorah's face.

" No but she is the daughter of an old servant of my family and he asked that I should take care of her once he passed. Is there a problem?"

"No but I want her to be one of my handmaids from now on."

"Your Grace?" Ser Jorah asked, confused and worried by this sudden request.

"I have spoken to her before and she seems to be intelligent and disciplined. I need someone like her to talk with from time to time. Send her over as soon as you can." With that Ashley climbed back onto her horse, leaving Ser Jorah wondering where this request had come from. He took one last glance at Spencer and climbed back onto his own horse as well.

Right, so I've set the story now for Ashley and Spencer to interact much more and maybe lead to something else;) Thank you again to everyone who has been reading this story. And for those of you who have been reviewing, I love you guys! You really do make my day/night. I don't ever get the time to reply to you all but once I do I'll reply every single question/review. Thanks again and don't forget to review:)