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GERION

"He in there?"

The Dothraki gave on slow nod. "He's there."

"Alone?" asked Gerion, putting his hand on the polished handle.

"He went in alone."

So the fire priestess is with him then. The red woman had withdrawn from the court life, no doubt as low in the Queen's favour as Gerion himself had fallen. He had wanted to avoid the woman's perceptive gaze, but dawn was on its way and it was past time he was too. Twenty years past time. He wasn't sure why but he felt the need to tell Rhaego first, it was the least he could do for the man. he blew out through his cheeks, grimaced, then turned the handle and went in.

Mylessa stood in the middle of the stone floor, hands on her hips, head hanging over on one side. Her long scarlet dress was scorched about the hem and up one sleeve, part of the collar burned away, soft materials underneath blackened. Her skin was milky white as ever though.

"Why go out there?" she was sneering, one long finger pointed out the window towards the city walls. "There is very little you can win from them. You don't even need to be here, go to the fighting pits or the gardens or wherever your mother keeps her dragons. I can help bind one to you. If you go out into that sprawling mess then there is little I can do to protect you."

"Protect me? Rhaego slouched by the dark window, hard face all in shadow, axe held loose just under the blade. "I've fought and killed warriors ten times harder than those bloody slavers."

"Slavers." Mylessa snorted. "They have support from someone else, someone organised. I have seen a man in my fires, the lash in one hand and a sword in another. Grazdan they call him. He's named after-"

"He's named after the founder of the Ghiscari Empire. He's a hero to these slaver types, as much a legend to them as Aegon the Conqueror is to the Targaryens, and no doubt this one was named after the figure and decided he was going to restart that empire. Am I right? Cult figures I understand, better than most. All you priests and sorcerers think you live in some storybook, but trust me, good steel can fix any notions of immortality."

She lifted her chin. "Where there are blades there are risks."

"Of course, that's the whole point." And he gave his axe a long, screeching lick with a whetstone.

Mylessa narrowed her eyes, lip curling. "What is it with you warriors and your damn fighting, and your damned pride?"

Rhaego only grinned, teeth shining as his scarred face tipped out of the darkness. "Oh I think that is a symptom of all men Your Highness. You're a smart woman, you know much and more about the secrets of this world." One more lick of the stone, and he held the axe up to the light, edge glittering. "But you don't know much about war. I gave up my pride a long time ago. It would have killed me out there in the desert. This is about sending a message to them waiting outside the city walls and to her waiting up above us on top of this damned pyramid."

Mylessa shook her head in disgust. "Your feud with that woman will be the death of you."

"If I die," He tested the edge, sliding his thumb-tip down it gently as one might a lover's neck, then shrugged. "Well, then you have my permission to steal a dragon."

She cowled at Gerion, and then at Rhaego as he set his axe down by the wall, and gave an angry hiss. "Foolishness." Then she gathered up her singed skirts and hurried angrily from the room, slamming the door shut behind her.

Rhaego frowned at the space she had once stood. "I swear, I think I'm in love. Though she tends to come and go as she pleases." He caught a tiny burnt piece of Mylessa's fabric in the air, before blowing the scrap away. "D'you ever wish you could just walk away from it all, Gerion?"

Only every day for the last twenty years of my life. "Maybe you should listen to her, eh?" he shifted his feet uneasily. " I've seen that woman work magic, real magic. Might be wise to take that dragon and fly on out of here."

He gave a tired laugh. "You're on their side too?"

"There's an entire army of Yunkishmen looking to get in here. They've got siege weapons, they've got thrice your numbers and you throwing yourself in the middle of all that won't bring-"

"Fuck peace," growled Rhaego, sliding a dagger from its sheath. Gerion swallowed, had to stop himself from taking a step back. "I've given these fucking people all kinds of protection. I've killed the Harpy, I've fought off malcontents, and they've taken my fucking eye." Rhaego started polishing the dull grey metal with a rag, the muscles working on the side of his head. "I'm going to kill to these Yunkishmen because I need to. I'm going to cut a red path through that army and I'm going to find this Grazdan and make such a death of him that they'll not think to rise up again for a hundred years. An eye for an eye. That's how it works." He looked up and Gerion found he couldn't meet his remaining eye and instead looked down at the floor, saying nothing. "I take it you won't be around for the battle then?"

"I've followed you a long way."

"You have."

"You saved my life, and I saved yours. Our debts are paid."

"I suppose they are." Rhaego watched him, the good side of his face in the light, the other hidden in the shadows, and Gerion started spilling reasons he hadn't even been asked.

"I'm an old man. I know I don't look it but by the Gods I feel it. I've spent the last two decades trapped so far from everything good and soft." Rhaego just kept watching. "I've lost so much of my family, never got to see them in the end, never got to say goodbye. Too many lives that I don't have closure on. My brothers are all dead. Homelands have been ripped apart by murderers and cutthroats. And by the Gods there's Joy, I haven't seen her since she was four. She'll be grown up now and I haven't seen anything. She's my little girl and I….and I…."

"And you miss her," said Rhaego.

Gerion's shoulders sagged. It hurt him to admit it aloud, but that was what it came down to in the end. "I miss her so much." He had to clench his teeth and curl back his lips to stop the tears. It was as if saying it made all the pain of it all hit him at once. So many of his loved ones were now in the ground and he could never tell them how much they meant to him, even Tywin. Especially Tywin, for everything he did, he was still my big brother…

Rhaego just nodded as he slid the dagger carefully back into its sheath. "We all love someone and we all need someone. A man who's gone through your experiences shouldn't ever be ashamed of that, not ever."

Gerion just gritted his teeth, and swallowed his tears, and managed to find some dry words to say. "I'm sure you've got it all worked out, that strategic mind of yours."

"I'll be alright."

"Good." Gerion thought that Rhaego would be. He'd been pushed to an edge, half by the world and half by himself, but he didn't think that the young man was beyond saving.

The big man looked around suddenly before pulling out a small chest from near the bed. Opened it and scooped up a handful of gems that he slapped into Gerion's palm. They were big stones. "That should get you started. A ship back home I'd think."

"Thank you," said Gerion, and he meant it.

Rhaego stretched out a little. "Do you have a plan to slip past the siege lines?"

"Some of Relequo's men know a path out through the sewers leading to the coast. That damned Tyroshi has a boat waiting to take us back to Volantis at the very least. From there it should be relatively smooth sailing."

Rhaego reached for his axe, gently twisted the pommel between finger and thumb, the pointed tip twisting into the stone tiles. "You look after that girl when you find her."

"I will. These past few years have taught me one thing, that family is….precious." Gerion stood there for a moment but Rhaego didn't answer. So he took a breath, and he turned to go.

"It wasn't always like this between me and her."

Gerion stopped; hand on the door, hairs prickling up his neck. But Rhaego just stood there, looking downcast.

"Used to be just me and her, a thousand years ago it seems." His eye looked distant, softer. "I had no one, and neither did she. She'd never met any of them, only just had second-hand stories from her mad brother." He took a shuddering breath that made his entire chest shake. "She was sold to my father. Like an animal. Then he died and everything went to shit and it was just her and me, a squealing, screaming, little burden. She had to sell her dragon eggs for food, for safety, all because of me. I've always felt like a burden….so I left, trying to give it all back." He narrowed his eye, looking down at his scarred and calloused hands. "That was my mistake. By the time I got back she had gone and found new children, and I was grown up." And he looked up and smiled, one of the few Gerion had ever seen on his face. "Good luck, Gerion."

He remembered Meereen as a powerful looking place when he first saw it, but things had changed considerably since then. The streets were thick with fear, the sense of threat so heavy that it seemed to stick to Gerion's clammy skin and made the hairs on his neck prickle. That wasn't to say that it was devoid of life, there were people about. They lined the streets in places. They filled the doorways, huddled under blankets against the cold. They crammed the shadowy arcades of an empty market in their dozens, cowering as a column of Unsullied tramped past, armour beaded with moisture, gleaming by torchlight.

Gerion felt eyes following him as he rode through the streets, fearful eyes, suspicious eyes, and the predatory sort trying to judge if he was soft enough to rob. He met each and every one of them with a glare of his own all the way until he came across the westernmost wall that faced Slaver's Bay. He could already see Relequo and his men up ahead, their hoods doing a poor job at hiding their colourful hair and attire. He gave the Great Pyramid a final look and urged his horse on faster.

Away from Meereen.

RHAEGO

The others had all gathered near the battlements to watch the Yunkishmen's grip on the city tighten. Barristan stood with his right hand at his side, left hand slack on the pommel of his sword, wrinkles tightening around his eyes as he frowned. Grey Worm was on Rhaego's other side, staring balefully. His mother stood before them, watching closely as the armies of Yunkai made their slow march forwards with the slightest of frowns. The Shavepate looked even more sour than usual. The Dornishmen were muttering to each other further along the parapet, occasionally throwing glances towards Rhaego when they thought he wasn't looking. I've still got the one eye left you damned fools….

Daario broke the silence with a laugh. "Well, it's not every day that you get to see a slave army of that size!"

"There are a lot of them," Rhaego grunted.

"Mostly malnourished slaves." Barristan pulled out a myrish glass and inspected them. "A few pit fighters perhaps, some flags of a few Sellsword companies near the right wing towards the coast, but a small minority in a sea of men more used to the lash than the ways of combat." He turned to Rhaego's mother. "Your Grace, I believe if we can strike at the leaders hard enough then we should be able to scatter them. They may have more men, but their army is no army at all."

"They have siege engines," noted Quentyn Martell, looking glum.

Barristan nodded at the prince. "Aye, but with the right amount of effort we can bring them down before they are ready. We just need to move fast, and hard. "

Rhaego watched his mother, wondering what was going on inside her head beyond hesitation. She looks like a damned child, he thought occurred to him that with all the scars he had taken these last few weeks that he probably looked older than his own mother. Damn this city. "My riders could put the fear of the Gods back into them," he said casually, his voice betraying none of his bloodlust.

"When can you be ready?" she asked finally.

Barristan looked over at Grey Worm, Daario and then finally to Rhaego. They were all warriors, despite their differences and all shared a level of understanding. Rhaego scratched at the scar near his cheek before mustering up his voice. "I think we can probably get a sizeable force ready within the hour."

His mind was buzzing as he hurried towards Mylessa's chambers. His skin felt hot, feverishly so. Heartbeats were so powerful that they were like to burst through his chest. Every muscle in his body felt tense and ready. He was going to fight. The prospect of going out and unleashing the fire in his veins felt like the greatest thing he could do at the moment, it was the closest he could feel to the Gods.

Despite being in chainmail armour he was almost running to Mylessa's chambers, such was his lust. I should see if I can take her into my arms before I depart. Fighting, fucking and killing. What else am I made for? It was a tempting idea, but one he had to ignore. He would need his red woman to be focused on what he asked of her, even if that meant waiting for her embrace.

Rhaego was at her door when he felt someone laid a hand on his arm. He spun around and grabbed the offender's throat, pushing him against the nearby wall. It took a moment for his head to clear and for him to realize that it was only Quentyn Martell. He let the man go. "Sorry," he grunted.

Quentyn Martell took a moment to gather his breath back, looking hesitantly at Rhaego. "Prince Rhaego," he huffed. "I would have words with you."

"Speak then," he grunted. "And do it quickly, for a have a battle to fight."

The Dornishman made himself stand as tall as he could and forced himself to look Rhaego in the eye, surprisingly he didn't even show all that much disgust at the scars there either. "Dorne has long sought an alliance with House Targaryen, long have we sought to avenge the loss of mutual family. My father and I thought that we could do that with Queen Daenerys," he hesitated, unsure of how to give voice to his next words but forcing them out nonetheless. "Queen Daenerys is not the only Targaryen in the world, and one dragon is as good as another." There was a strange silence for a beat before he continued. "….what I'm trying to say, Prince Rhaego, is that Dorne would welcome you with open arms and gladly support you as heir to the Iron Throne."

Rhaego wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the thought of it, but the look in the Dornishman's eye was enough to give him pause. By the Gods he truly means it. "And what exactly would I have to do to secure Dorne's love?"

"I have a sister," he said carefully, somewhat embarrassed. "She is older but still very beautiful and capable of providing you with heirs…it would not be the first time Martell and Targaryen have wed. It would also bind you into the hearts of the people of Westeros, believe me when I say that they are eager for a dragon to return, and with Dorne's help we could make you king of all."

Ah….now this is interesting.