DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING
A/N: As always thanks to everyone who left a review :)
Rhaego had found that his cellmate was prone to singing come night time, or rather, what he assumed was night. Soon after he had killed the Summer Islander the guards had driven them back into their cells like cattle and a queer sense of quiet fell across the prisoners as they slowly marched back to their hovels. Gerion's spirit however was unperturbed who had started singing Dance of the Dragons loud cheerfully, causing more than one of the guards to curse at him. He was halfway through The Rains of Castamere when Rhaego finally had enough.
"Keep your mouth shut or I'll make sure you can never close it again." He growled from his bunk without turning to look at the man.
"Why is it that all you Targaryens insist on violent threats? "Join me or burn" or "Serve me or burn" you're a tad different in the manner in which you threaten but still…it doesn't do to burn people who disagree with you…soon everyone starts to disagree with you. A shame Aerys never learnt that."
Rhaego turned his bulky frame and looked at Gerion. "You talk about my grandfather often, but how is it that you and your brother knew him so well?"
The Golden haired man looked away for a moment as something flashed over his emerald eyes, Rhaego couldn't be sure but he thought it looked like shame. "In his youth….the King often paid visits to Casterly Rock."
"Lannister."
"Aye, the youngest son of Lord Tytos Lannister sits across from you; forgotten by the world and by my own kin." A smile quickly came over the man's comely face and he chuckled to himself. "The gods have a sense of humour don't they? A Lion and Dragon, or rather half a dragon, forced to work together."
Rhaego send him a sharp glare. "Just don't take up your brother's traitorous ways or you'll find out how much of a dragon I am."
Gerion brought his emerald eyes to the young Khal, a small frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Aerys Targaryen was your grandsire, but don't think for a second he was a good man. He was a beast who preyed on the very people he ruled, even his own wife. Jamie rightly did away with him and saved the realm from his madness." his frowned deepened. "But that does not excuse my brother for allowing Clegane to butcher the children."
He looked at the golden haired man for a moment, searching for any falseness in his voice, yet found none. "I grew up with stories about how treacherous and evil you Lannisters were, betraying your good and kind friend the king and murdering Aegon and Rhaenys and raping Elia Martell. For years I hated and reviled a great many of the Westerosi lords for the rebellion, but then I grew up. I lived in a world where death waited around every corner and every day brought a new struggle. I care little for the events that happened long before my birth, so you can rest easy Lannister I will not do you any harm as long as you keep your word."
Gerion leant forward from his cot and studied Rhaego before giving a nod of acceptance. "Fair enough, though I think you should let me in on this escape plan of yours. How are you going to get past the crossbowmen?"
"In two days' time my Khalasar will attack the prison," said Rhaego. "With the guards attention divided we'll climb out of this cold damp shithole and escape in the confusion."
"What about the few men that they leave behind? It only takes a single bolt to end your life and the plan's over."
Rhaego's mouth twisted into a grin. "I expect those animals out there will want their freedom too. If they want it then they'll need to fight. A crowd of men should be enough to keep a half dozen crossbowmen busy don't you think?"
"You're forgetting one thing. That bearded Priest will down any man who even tries to climb those steps and many of those 'animals' fear him more than they do those sentries." said Gerion.
Rhaego laughed then, a laugh as cold and hollow as if it had come from the bottom of a well. "Leave the axeman to me."
The next day during their round of the pit Gerion pointed out two different men whom ruled over the small clans of prisoners. Each group stood as far away from the others as possible and Rhaego knew it would be difficult getting them to work together after years of what he presumed was pure hatred. Hatred born of boredom if nothing else, they'll come to heel readily enough he reassured himself. If not, then he'd simply have to apply more force.
"That man there with the purple beard is Veero Notaris, leader of the Tyroshi. It shouldn't be too hard to persuade him to our side; I've heard it said that he has a wife and child waiting for him in Tyrosh." Gerion informed as he and Rhaego walked about the grounds, Jakerhro and Togo flanking them.
"That one amongst the Lyseni is Plyde; though most just call him the mute on account of him missing most of his tongue for talking back to one of the guards. He can still huff vague sounds out and I'm sure he'd love to get his revenge on the guardsmen."
Gerion seemed fairly convinced that most of them men would do as their appointed leaders commanded, within as much reason as any thug would at a chance for freedom. He noticed that the twelve or so Summer Islanders were scattered about, looking unsure of themselves. "What of them?" he asked.
"HA! Well we don't need to worry about getting their leader under heel seeing as you smashed his throat shut." The Lannister's grin was large and infectious and his smile went straight to his eyes with genuine mirth.
Rhaego rubbed at the stubble that had formed on his jaw and eyed off the various prisoners, all looking half-starved and irate, he very much doubted that they had anything close to discipline. This is my army, he told himself, these are the tools the Gods haven seen fit to give me.
"Well, I'll speak with the gambler first." He decided before storming over to the Tyroshi group.
The men were playing a game of dice, far too caught up in their gambling to notice the large Dothraki walking towards them until his shadow fell over their game, causing them to look up venomously until they saw the size of the one who had intruded.
The purple bearded man stepped forward cautiously; both hands behind his back undoubtingly containing a shiv of some kind in case Rhaego tried anything. A sharp rock won't do much against me little man he thought with a smirk.
"What do you want Horse lord?" asked Veero.
"You Tyroshi seem like you have a little more life in you compared to the rest of the dregs in this hole, how would you like a chance at freedom?"
The men about him looked at one another cautiously and then to Veero who simply sneered at Rhaego. "I'm not interested in any plots made by a desperate madman…certainly not those by mad Dothraki. Leave before you lose something valuable."
Rhaego set his burning purple eyes on the other man. "Tomorrow my Khalasar comes to attack this place. When that happens you can stay here and rot until the end of time or you can join me in the escaping this hell and maybe even seeing your family again."
He saw the slightest twitch of the Tyroshi's eye when he mentioned his family and could see that the man was conflicted. He said nothing and nothing until finally he spoke. "How can I be sure you are not a liar? Or that you are not mad?"
The faintest of smiles crossed Rhaego's face at that. "You can't and you don't, but I'm not. I ask you this, is it better to face a certainty of life imprisonment or to instead a chance at seeing your family again?"
"I suppose I have nothing left to lose….what would you have us do?"
"Just wait until it starts, and then kill every guard you can see."
Getting the mute to join him had been of little difficulty. All Rhaego had to do was mention the amount of guards that would be vulnerable when his attack was launched and the maimed Lyseni had grinned broadly and huffed and hissed out words of agreement.
The Summer Islanders were a different matter. Ever since Rhaego had killed their leader they had turned against one another and were cautious around others, yet the young Khal had managed scare sense into them, at least enough for them to gather around and listen to what he had to say.
"You men have no lives; this prison sucked them out of you and left walking corpses. I can make you as you once were, I only ask that you follow me and fight those who would keep us in this dank, damp hell when my Khalasar comes for me on the morrow."
"But what if your men don't come," Asked a stout man with a messy stub for a nose. "It is said that horse lords are fickle and only follow their own strength, and what of the Bearded Priest up there, surely you don't mean to fight him unarmed."
Rhaego had harboured secret doubts of his own, but not of his men. His Khalasar would gladly die for him if need be and he had Jorah with them to keep them focused. No, the Priest that stood watch over them all, married to his axe, was the real concern yet Rhaego knew that if he allowed such doubts to grow then they would be his undoing.
So he slapped the other man twice across the face, sending him reeling. "The first was for questioning the loyalty of my riders, the second for your questioning of my prowess. If you try and speak out of turn again I'll make it so that you join your old leader in the dirt." He should not have hit the man so hard yet he needed to make it clear to them that he was the new force to which they owed submission. "My men will come on the morrow, and I will see that priest dead at my feet."
Picking their friend to his feet the men all gave solemn nods of agreement. "We will be ready." said the stout man.
Rhaego felt his own confidence growing with each of the prison clans that swore to aid him and thought that perhaps the gods were not so cruel as he had once thought, that or they had a mad sense of humour. He had given some final words to Togo and Jakerhro before being marched back into his cell by the bored looking guards. Once inside he lay down on his small bunk and tried to get what rest he could before the trials he would face on the morrow.
"So tell me, after you get your egg what then?" asked Gerion, stirring him from his brief respite.
"I'll return them to my mother in Pentos." He answered automatically.
The Lannister hummed at that. "You're quite single minded, but why go to all this effort for three lost gems? They're valuable I'll grant you that, but only a fool would push himself through hell for mere riches."
A low rumble of laughter erupted from Rhaego's throat. "Says the man who was born to the wealthiest family in the known world….though it is not the riches or fortune I seek. It's about paying a debt back to the woman who gave up everything for me. My mother is the rightful Queen of Westeros and the last true born Targaryen and now she lives at Pentos as a humbled guest."
Gerion gave him a curious look. "What of you?"
"I'm not so foolish to believe I would sit the Throne, I'm merely the son of some Dothraki. I know how to kill men, not rule them." he replied in a tired voice.
"Heh, modesty from one of Aerys kin, who would have thought?" he rubbed his golden beard. "Tell me of Daenerys Stormborn."
Rhaego gave the Lannister a dull look. "I'm not the one to ask, I've not seen her since I was small."
"I've heard tales of her kind nature and beauty….but then again when you're sailing with a bunch of rogues who haven't so much as seen a woman in months everyone becomes more beautiful and gracious in their minds…what I mean to ask is whether or not she takes after her father?"
The young Khal thought about it. "Ser Jorah and Ser Barristan have both compared her to my uncle Rhaegar."
A quiet smile settled over Gerion's face then and gave a happy nod before lying back down on his bunk. "What a queen that would be."
He had a pleasant, dreamless sleep that was cut short by the shouts and arguments that were echoing through the hallways just outside their cell. Gerion stood by the cell door listening intently and when he saw that Rhaego had awoken, he silently urged the man over.
Though Rhaego had little understanding of the Norvosi brand of Valyrian he could pick out the words Dothraki and attack easily enough and heard the rising panic in their voices as they hurried about. He glimpsed a torch moving closer as a guard made to run past, yet just as he did Gerion slid his arm out and around the man's neck quick as a snake, bringing the man up against the bars of the cell door.
"Easy there my friend, if you want to live to see the morrow then I'd suggest you hand us those keys." The Lannister's voice was oddly calm as if he were discussing the weather or a meal he had just eaten.
The man quickly fumbled with the keys that hung from his side and handed them up where Rhaego took them. As soon as they got their hands on the keys Gerion squeezed down tight on the guards throat until the man turned purple in the face before falling limp. After that they freed themselves from their holdings and quickly hurried out into the small corridor.
"Which way?" asked Rhaego.
"If we follow the tunnels behind us we should be able to get to every cell in this block, hopefully they won't have time to notice before it's too late."
And so they hurried along in the darkness, with only the occasional torch lighting their path. Dim as it was, the light was welcome in the otherwise blackness of the curving tunnel. Finally they came upon another collection of cells and went about unlocking the doors, the metal groaning in protest as Gerion swung them open. "Remember what you promised." He reminded them as they left their cells for the cramped hallway. On and on it went until finally they had all the prisoners marching behind them through the dark tunnels. Finally they emerged out a hole into the open pit and quietly made their way towards the giant stone staircase. They were halfway up when one of the guards spotted them and began shouting for help.
Just as the man made to load his crossbow Plyde the Mute leapt from his place on the steps over onto the railing where the guard stood and slowly pulled himself up until he was feet away from the crossbowman. However just as he made to strike the man he received a bolt to the stomach and fell to his knees uncomprehendingly.
The guard began the arduous process of reloading the weapon when suddenly two more prisoners followed their dead compatriot's lead and clambered up to him. He had barely wound the bolt when the men struck him and began stomping on his downed form. Soon they snatched the weapon away from the dead man and loaded up while Rhaego and the rest continued to climb the steep steps.
The commotion soon attracted more guards who came running in from one of the higher platforms and began unloading their bolts into the mass of angry prisoners, causing several of Rhaego's men to become pinned to the stone from where they had been struck yet soon enough the two Lyseni that had avenged Plyde went about unloading their own acquired crossbow at the guards, providing cover fire while the rest of the prisoners made their climb. Rhaego smiled at their bravery. Undisciplined yes, but let no men ever question their courage…
Rhaego finally made it to the very top of the staircase, yet he only took a single step before the Bearded Priest Shiro Kala emerged from the shadows, axe in hand. The look he gave was cold with promise and Rhaego could taste the beginnings of panic in the back of his throat before he quickly swallowed them down and returned the man's gaze with equal intensity, the noise of battle going on behind him forgotten.
"Are you just going to stand there or are you going to try and kill me?" he asked with a growl.
The man said nothing and swung his gargantuan axe in Rhaego's direction, his long arms providing an added reach for the already huge weapon. He felt the blade just narrowly brush past his face as he sidestepped and ducked left. He had no weapons at all to fight with other than his hands and even if he did by some miracle find something that could be used against the giant it would likely have done him little good against the power of that axe.
The axeman continued to swing his massive blade across and around while all Rhaego could do to duck and weave around the man's blows, though he was quickly losing his strength and energy. Eventually the Priest caught onto his manner of movements and reversed his thrust so that his axe swiped backwards, its curve slashing across Rhaego's unarmoured chest and sending a splash of red along the mighty weapon.
Upon feeling the throbbing pain on his chest, Rhaego found himself overwhelmed by an animalistic rage and suddenly rushed forwards with his fists ready. When the Axeman saw what he was doing he casually brought his blade downwards, hoping to cleave the young Dothraki right down the centre. As the blade fell Rhaego moved aside just enough so that the blade was but inches from his body and quickly took hold of the long steel handle.
The Bearded Priest looked at the Dothraki in utter confusion and tried to pry the great axe from Rhaego's grasp, yet the young Khal would not relent. A smile passed over his face as he realised that the man could not make use of his steel bride while Rhaego had hold of it and pulled the weapon with all his might.
Rhaego gritted his teeth and gave the Axeman a look of utter hatred as he struggled to pry the axe out of his large hands. "GIVE ME THE AXE!" he screamed before taking one hand off the handle and smashing a fist down on the priest's own clenched hands, causing a sickening pop to be heard as the knuckles moved out of their correct place.
The flash of pain that crossed through the man's body was just enough for Rhaego to seize the weapon out of his grasp and stumble back a few paces. Without breaking momentum the young Khal turned and swung the axe around and separated the priest's head from his body.
His whole body was trembling from the effort and the howls of dying men once again filled the air behind him but he allowed himself the briefest of moments to look down on his fallen opponent. He held up the axe to its previous owner's severed head. "I'm keeping this."