The Dragon and the Hawke 27
The arena and the pits would not be ready for weeks, and that was if Daario and Hizdahr managed to actually come up with a system in less than three or four days. Any more than that, and it would be months before the arena would be ready to see combat.
Well actually, the arena wasn't the problem. As big as the Dragons were, and as destructive as they could be, they took care of their nest. The arena had been their nest for close to a year, and so the argument could be made that it was in better condition than it had been before the city had been claimed.
But the goings on in the city of Meereen were not the important events at the moment. In fact, aside from a rather ironic death involving a butcher, a bull, and a leg of sausage, nothing really of note was going to happen in the city for weeks. The Sons of the Harpy were naturally causing problems, but Daario's guard was a competent force, and most trouble they tried to make ended with them running away as fast as they could.
And so the story moves from the great hurricane of nature that is Marian Hawke and all the people she has direct access to, and instead moves a few hundred miles outside the city, to a fat spy and a drinking dwarf.
"I do wish you would slow yourself," Varys notes as he watches Tyrion Lannister down his sixth goblet of wine of the afternoon.
"Why? We are still two days ride from reaching this queen you're so eager to hand me to, I can sober up by then," the dwarf twitches his face and pours himself another goblet.
"It is more that I was hoping to tell you what I know, and I cannot do that if you are too drunk to remember the conversation after we are done."
Tyrion snorts, "It will take more than this watered down swill to put me in the black, my friend."
"Then do you think you could listen?"
"I have been listening," Tyrion tells him, "And so far all you've done is ask me to slow down."
He then takes a small sip of his wine and smiles, "So this is me, slowing down. Tell me what you want me to know."
"Well to start, it seems that your father's belief that the queen's council could be broken with news of Jorah Mormont's old loyalties were mistaken. Rather than execution or banishment, he now rules Yunkai in the name of the Queen."
Tyrion nods, "A wise decision. Old mistakes shape men, but they do not define them. If it was clear that Mormont was loyal to the Queen, but she felt she could not see him, it makes sense that he would be sent far from sight but remain useful."
"Indeed. In other news it seems that the city of Meereen is experiencing some form of armed revolt."
"What? Like what my dear sister is handling back in King's Landing?"
"Exactly," Varys nods, then smiles slyly, "Only it seems that Queen Daenerys is dealing with the revolt in her city far more effectively than the Queen Regent."
"And who does she have to thank for that?" Tyrion asks, remembering the few details he had managed to learn of the queen, "From what I recall of your reports, she did not have the knowledge necessary to route something like that."
"Correct, she does not have that knowledge, instead she has Daario Naharis, former lieutenant of the Second Sons mercenary band, who now serve as the city's guard force, and Marian Hawke, by all accounts a god in human flesh."
"Really?" Tyrion straightens, "From your old reports I thought she was just some mad practitioner of the lost arts?"
"It seems I was mistaken," Varys concedes, "Very much so, for apparently this woman wields the powers of the elements like no other is able, tame dragons, speak counsel to a queen, and dance like a drunken loon through a city as she slaughters her way to its ruling body."
Tyrion blinks, and after a second, adds, "I think I'm going to need an explanation for that last bit."
"She apparently danced through the streets of Yunkai on her way to confront their Wise Masters," Varys tells him, "And she killed all but one, who now acts as advisor to Jorah Mormont."
Tyrion sips his wine, "Well, it seems the trend of violent gods continues. Fantastic."
"Actually, it may not be as bad as you think," Varys reassures him
"How could it not be as bad as I think?" Tyrion raises an eyebrow at his friend
"It seems this violent hatred that our burgeoning goddess experiences lies solely for the Masters," Varys tells him, "And even with everything we are, we are not slave masters and never will be."
"And aside from that, she is a pleasant god?"
"Far more pleasant than most. When last I received word from one of my little birds, I learnt that she and Ser Barristan of all people had walked into the city and put on a show like common street performers."
Tyrion's eyes fly up, then lower as he frowns, then he smiles, "Well, unless she enjoys tits and wine, I'll abstain my approval until I see her for myself."
"Well I don't know about wine, but I have heard that she does enjoy the company of her own sex," Varys tells him, timing his statement so that Tyrion is taking a sip just as he gets to the good part.
Tyrion spits the wine out, splattering it against the wagon door, then turns his eyes to Varys, "You're joking?"
"I am not."
"hm, would you look at that, a god I would get behind."
"Hopefully not literally, I hear that her lover can be quite powerful in her own right."
"In what way?" Tyrion wonders if there were actually two goddesses, rather than one, that he would have to be careful not to antagonize to the point of killing him
"It is said that she can lay men low with but a few choice words," Varys tells her, "Almost like you, actually, except she is apparently kinder about it."
Tyrion smiles, and there is yet another woman that he would love to make the acquaintance of. Though he would definitely have to be careful with his words, no need to make someone who can take a city alone an enemy.
Moving a hundred miles back to the city, the two women that are being discussed are laying in bed, talking. The subject that arises now comes from Marian as she tells her lover, "We need some new people to talk to."
"We have plenty of people to talk to," Missandei lifts her head to look into Marian's face
"Yeah, but we always talk about the same stuff," The mage turned god complains, "We all have the same stuff we experience, so we always end up repeating conversations. I'd like to get someone new that we could share an intelligent conversation with."
"We have intelligent conversations all the time," Missandei notes, an eyebrow rising in challenge
Marian chuckles and kisses her, "Yeah, we do, but I can only take so many existential debates."
"We do not have many of those, though."
"We have them all the time. We just have them after we run out of other stuff to talk about."
"We could always make something to talk about," Missandei suggests.
Marian shifts and looks down at her love, "What do you suggest?"
"Ser Barristan recently brought up the subject of marriage," Missandei remind her
"Yeah, between Dany and whoever manages to catch her fancy that she can use politically," Marian rolls her eyes, "Not a very fun subject, really. But if you want, we can talk about Dany's nuptials."
"It is not Queen Daenerys's nuptials that interest me," Missandei tells her, "It is ours."
Marian blinks, then looks into Missandei's eyes, then blinks again, then asks, "Did you just ask me to marry you?"
Missandei smirks, "I did."
The mage smiles widely and pulls her up to kiss her heavily, "Sneaky girl."
"Well?"
"You expect me to say no?"
"I expect you to say yes."
"Well then, yes, Missandei, I will marry you."
"Good, our wedding is tomorrow."
"It is?" Marian blinks at that
"Of course," Missandei nods, then narrows her eyes and tells her lover with certainty, "You will be mine for all eternity, and nothing you can say will dissuade me."
"Yes Ma'am!" Marian agrees with a sharp nod of her head.