Hello everyone! I'm sure you're all delighted to see that I've posted a new chapter! In all honesty, I didn't expect I'd be done with it as quickly as I did. For starters, I've had to cut my daily writing time in half recently as I divide my creative streak into working on my first official art commission as a freelancer. Also, I originally had something slightly different outlined for this chapter, as I originally planned to start the chapter with Torrhen, then shift to Jon, then Lyaella, and then end the chapter with Torrhen again. However, Longclaw 1-6 told me I should try to shrink down my chapters slightly so I can finish them and have them posted online faster.
I tried following his advice in this chapter by deciding to devote this chapter into a Meereen-only chapter and go back to the Wall come next chapter. That seemed fine and everything went smoothly... at least at first. It wasn't until I finished writing the end of the first scene in this chapter that I realized that the way I originally outlined the chapter for certain ways scenes cut off compared to how I was now writing made the chapter not flow correctly. I was missing a crucial element to make the timeline of this chapter work, and I reached out to some of my writing buddies here on to help. Thanks to Longclaw and my new GoT fanfic pal WrathofAvarice, I figured out how to get back on the right track again and was able to carry on with writing. Thank you both so much you guys! :D
Now, onto the review count! I'm over the moon right now as I report that not only did the review count reach the desired review goal, it surpassed it! I asked for all of you to try to reach 85 reviews. Instead, you all managed to churn out 87! Woohoo! We beat the review goal! I give every reviewer a virtual hug! *Happily hugs every reviewer* THANK YOU! With only thirteen reviews still needed to reach one hundred, I think it's time we all try to go the distance this time! No... let's go beyond it! How does 110 reviews sound this time? Thirteen is an unlucky number, so asking for reviews would be like dooming myself. A hundred and five... it's bigger, but it doesn't feel good enough. 110 feels just right.
Come on, everyone! It's not that hard! Just type a quick note at the end of the chapter! It's easy! :)
That's all from me for now! Enjoy reading this next chapter, and please review when you're done!
Happy Reading!
- Elphaba818
Chapter Six: Wolf out of Winter
"Aōha ankle iksis sȳrkta sir. Kostā henujagon."
"What's going on? Where are you taking me?"
"Naenie qubykta hen than iksā iēdrosa ōdrikagon. Istiti mazverdagon space syt people naejot māzigon isse."
"Ow! H-Hey! Slow down! I can't hop that — argh! — that fast!"
"Keligon whining. Aōha ankle might iēdrosa sagon sore, yn kostā geron va ziry. Ao should sagon mirre sȳrkta iemnȳ se hembar dorolvie tubissa. Kostā henujagon."
"Wait, why're we going to the entrance? Are you throwing me out? Why?"
Torrhen did his best to wrestle his arm out of the maester's tight grip, but between being forced to limp around on only one foot and trying to keep a firm grip on Shadow's fur, there really wasn't much strength to his actions. Were it not for the fact that Shadow had been forced to quickly snatch up his lute in his jaws again and trot after them when he'd been forcibly dragged out of bed, the boy would have ordered his direwolf to snarl and snap at the old windbag already. Not bite him, just scare him so he'd let him go. What did he do, anyway?
As soon as they were outside, the maester gave him a small push forward. "Gūrogon care hen aōla, riña. Se ȳdra daor rūs bona deks. Ao jorrāelagon naejot rhaenagon dekurūbare va ziry."
Torrhen groaned in aggravation, his patience finally reaching its limits. "I don't know what in seven hells you're saying! Speak the Common Tongue!"
His shouting finally made the maester realize just how annoyed he actually was. He held up a hand to Torrhen as a signal to wait a moment, then vanished back inside the sickhouse. He returned a few minutes later with a younger man in tow. Not a maester, just a regular Meereenese citizen waiting to be treated. Torrhen stared at them in puzzlement as the maester gestured to him and his wolf while murmuring something ineligible to the newcomer.
The newcomer nodded to the maester and then focused on Torrhen. "I know the Common Tongue. The maester here asked me to translate for you," he explained. "He says your ankle sprain is better now. He and the other maesters need to clear out space for those who are worse off to come in. They need you to leave."
Torrhen stared. "But my ankle still hurts! I'm not better!"
"It's better than it was. It might hurt, but you can walk on it," said the translator. "He says not to baby it anymore. You must get used to walking on it again. Take care of yourself."
And without further ado, the maester and the translator went back in without another word.
"Hey! Hey, wait!" Torrhen yelled. "You can't just throw me out like this! Come on!"
He hopped forward and tried to pull back the curtain flap to head back in, but the maester quickly reappeared in the door frame. Yelling at him harshly in the foreign language, he forcibly shoved him back out on the streets and swung the curtain shut again.
Torrhen clenched his teeth, fury boiling up inside. "Screw you! Queen Daenerys won't put up with this treatment when I tell her what you're doing!" he snapped. "Come on, Shadow!"
The black wolf dropped his boys' lute and waited until Torrhen collected it before moving obediently to his side again as extra support as they trudged along the dirt path. Torrhen was glad Shadow was here with him. Despite how pissed he still was with that maester for tossing him out, he did admit that his ankle did feel somewhat better after the past four days staying off it. But the maester was wrong in assuming it was completely better now and walkable. He could afford to put a tiny bit of weight on it in intervals, but were it not for Shadow at his side, Torrhen knew he wouldn't be going nearly as fast as he was now. They were already moving at a snail's pace due to his injury.
Truth be told, Torrhen was leading Shadow around randomly, because he had no idea at all on where to go or what to do. Finding Lyaella and Sōnar was his top priority above all else, but after four days of being stuck in the sickhouse with his bad ankle, he had come to the conclusion that his sister and their dragon weren't anywhere to be found in Meereen. If Lyaella and Sōnar were somewhere close, rumors of a silver-haired little girl with a dragon would be on everyone's lips already, in both the weird language most people spoke here and the rare few that knew the Common Tongue. Instead, the only things Torrhen had overhead people talking about in the sickhouse was the earthquake he'd apparently caused when arriving in the past, and the tragedy that occurred because of his mother's dragons directly following the disaster. Apparently, his mother's black dragon had gotten freaked out by the whole earthquake and accidentally killed a child before flying off somewhere west of the city. Torrhen knew from the stories he and Lyaella had heard from Queen Yara, Lord Tyrion, and Ser Davos while growing up that their mother's black dragon had been her favorite out of all her dragons and had been named Drogon, but they'd also heard from them and read in A Song of Ice and Fire history book that following Drogon's disappearance from the city, their mother had proceeded to lock up her other two dragons beneath the city catacombs. Lyaella had always cried when they reached that part in their mother's story, but Torrhen personally never understood the logic behind their mother's actions in doing that. Why was it necessary to lock away the two dragons that hadn't hurt anyone? If their mother had been scared about them attacking people, shouldn't she have made it her primary focus to train them not to do so? Sōnar was good and tame, but that was only because he and Lyaella had trained her not to hurt people. She was protective of them, yes, and he and Lyaella had also taught her to spit dragonfire on command in case they ever needed their dragon sister to defend them, but she would never harm anyone who meant no harm to them. He'd have to remember to ask his mother about this later after he finally met her.
But that mental note only reminded him of his primary problem right now: what was he going to do? He had no idea where Lyaella and Sōnar were, so searching for them was impossible. The next best thing was to try to meet his mother and introduce himself like Ser Jorah had suggested. But she was currently in the Great Pyramid. How was he even going to get there? Ser Jorah had been rushed by those damn Unsullied guards to leave, so he hadn't given him any directions, and all the signs on the street were written in the same foreign language the maester back at the sickhouse spoke. Again, what was he going to do?
He had to find someone who spoke the Common Tongue to give him directions. He wasn't going to be able to do anything in this city unless he figured out where everything was, especially considering how everything in Meereen was out of whack thanks to the earthquake. When he met his mother and successfully convinced her he was who he said he was, he'd have to beg her to teach him how to read and speak the local language. If he remembered his lessons and what he and Lyaella had read about their mother growing up, their history book claimed she reigned as queen of Meereen until Winter finally came to the world at the end of next year. There'd be plenty of time for him to learn at least the basics of whatever language was dominant here in Meereen if he was going to stay here for at least a good two years. If he was lucky, Lyaella and Sōnar would turn up here in the city looking for him, Shadow, and their mother sometime soon. If not… he could only hope and pray to the all the gods out there that his sister and their dragon not only made it back in time too, but that they were safe. Best case scenario, Lyaella and Sōnar had landed somewhere close to their father at the Wall. Worse case scenario… the two of them had been found by an enemies to House Targaryen or House Stark, like the Lannisters. While the twins had never met any Lannister aside from Lord Tyrion and they had mixed feelings regarding him, they knew he himself was an overall decent person and he had always treated them with respect. Anyone else from the lions den was definitely a threat… aside from maybe Lord Tyrion's older brother, Ser Jamie. According to Ser Lady Brienne and Lord Tyrion, there was indeed honor within him despite what the history books told about him. It was only hidden due to people not knowing the truth about why he killed the Mad King and the fact that he was apparently in love and had bastard children with his twin sister.
But that was all food for thought for later. Right now, he had to find someone who could give him directions to the Great Pyramid. Still steadying himself with Shadow's help, Torrhen weakly stumbled around the corner only to immediately gasp in alarm. Ignoring his direwolfs' protesting growl, Torrhen fisted his fingers harshly into Shadow's furry neck, gritted his teeth to endure the pain in his ankle, and shuffled as fast as he could off to the side where some wealthy-looking citizens were standing. He had no choice. Had they lingered in the middle of the road even a moment longer, they would've both been run over by all the Unsullied warriors dragging the enormous gold statue he'd seen in the aftermath of the earthquake the other day on ropes down the path. Torrhen stared in bafflement as they trudged down the road. That statue was enormous! It had to be at least twice the size of Winterfell castle, maybe even bigger! And it was made out of solid gold, too… It had to be worth a fortune. How many Unsullied soldiers were pulling that thing, anyway? He automatically guessed a couple hundred, but that had only been based on a quick precursory glance prior to moving out of the way. Now that the Unsullied were literally dragging the statue past him, he was sure he'd been wrong. It had to take at least a thousand warriors to move something that big and heavy…
"Incredible, just incredible…"
"I know. It's awful."
"Can't believe it. I honestly can't believe it…"
Torrhen's ears perked up, his heart leaping in his chest. The Common Tongue. The people standing near him spoke the Common Tongue!
He whipped around. "Hey! Excuse me—!"
"Don't ask us for handouts, boy," said the rather plump-looking man of the trio, a definite sneer in his tone. "You be free now, but we're still leaps and bounds better than you."
His companions chuckled wickedly. Torrhen blinked in surprise and examined them more closely. He'd noticed straight away upon getting out of the street that all three of them appeared moderately wealthy based on their fine silk clothes, but that had been based on only a quick glance. Now that Torrhen was looking at them up close, he realized there was more to them than that. They each had fat money pouches strapped to their waists and were looking down their noses at him and Shadow in obvious disdain. Torrhen wanted to scream at his apparent bad luck. An entire city full of people, and the first ones he'd found that spoke his language were a trio of former masters.
"I'm not looking for a handout," he grumbled, gritting his teeth. "I just noticed you know the Common Tongue."
The one in the middle was the tallest, and the way he seemed to tower over his companions made Torrhen feel very small. "Yes, we know it. Why does that matter?"
"I don't know the local language. I just want some directions."
The plump-looking one chuckled. "Westerosi, are you? What, stowed away on a ship looking for a grand adventure?"
Torrhen scowled, fists clenching up tight. "I'm not a stowaway! Just tell me how to get to the Great Pyramid and I'll be on my way!"
The last one finally spoke, audibly scoffing in disgust. "Oh, on your way to see the so-called queen, are you?" he sneered. "Going to beg her to make all your problems disappear?"
"Don't talk about the queen like that!" Torrhen snapped. "She's the Mother of Dragons and the Breaker of Chains! Respect her!"
"Respect her? For what?" said the tall one. "She only has power because she used those dragons of hers to steal an army for herself in Astapor, and now she's using it to completely wipe away our way of life."
"Well, if your way of life wasn't about treating other human beings as cattle, she probably wouldn't have!"
The third one rolled his eyes. "Whether you agree or not isn't the point. She has no business interfering with our livelihood, and has even less of a right to wipe out our culture and history."
"Slavery is wrong! Daenerys Targaryen is doing a good thing by ending it and you—"
"I'm not talking about slavery, stupid boy. I mean how she's turning a blind eye on the traditions and cultures of Meereen itself. She's all about freedom, yet she refuses to give the people of Meereen the freedom to act like Meereenese citizens!"
Torrhen's retorts died away on his tongue. He tilted his head, staring quizzically at the former masters. "What?"
"See for yourself. Look there, at the statue. You see what the Unsullied are doing with it?"
Torrhen turned. The Unsullied were still dragging the enormous gold statue down the street, but instead of dragging it towards the main road to cart it out of the city, they appeared to be taking it to a particular shop on this street. A blacksmith forge. The boy watched, puzzled, as a handful of soldiers approached the forge, calling out in the local language for the owner.
Still thoroughly confused, Torrhen turned back to the men. "They dragged it up to a blacksmith shop. So what?"
The portly fellow sighed. "Use your head. Instead of having a blacksmith brought to the pyramid to restore the statue, the damn Dragon Queen had the Unsullied bring the statue to the blacksmith. Why do you think they'd do that?"
Torrhen didn't know what to say. He wracked his brains, but he honestly didn't have a clue. "I don't know… Obviously she wants him to do something to it."
"Isn't it obvious?! She's not going to restore it on top of the pyramid! She's going to have it melted down!"
His brows furrowed together. "What's so bad about that?"
"It's the Great Harpy Statue. It's been part of the Great Pyramid ever since the pyramid itself was first built with the rest of the city. It's part of our history and culture… yet the so-called queen isn't going to restore it! She's having it demolished!"
"It's insulting! It's bad enough she took away our source of trade by freeing the slaves when she conquered our city. Now she's taking away our history and culture!"
"She better at least reopen the fighting pits. If she doesn't, we'll know for sure that she only cares about being in power rather than real freedom and justice."
"…Just tell me how to get to the Great Pyramid and I'll be on my way."
The portly one turned and pointed further down the street. "Follow this road 'til the second intersection. Take a left there, then left again. Follow that street for awhile and you'll find it."
"Thanks. Let's go, Shadow."
Obedient as ever, Shadow was as silent as a shadow itself as his boy hopped away from the wealthy trio. Torrhen was relieved the direwolf hadn't put up a fuss during the conversation. Those former masters definitely didn't like his future mother. Had Shadow decided to growl or make a partial snap at some of their fingers, those miserable shits would have taken it out on him, meaning they would have examined him more closely. Had they gotten a good look at his eyes and then made the connection to Daenerys Targaryen… there were countless possibilities as to what they would've done with him, and more than half those scenarios ended rather unpleasantly.
Still, he couldn't get their words from drumming around in his head as he hobbled along down the street. He didn't want to think about what they said, but he couldn't help it. Now that he'd heard things from their point of view, it was impossible not to think of things their way. Huffing a bit in self-annoyance, Torrhen glanced around at all the clean up work that was going on across the city. It had only been a few days since the earthquake happened, so it wasn't like a lot of progress had been made yet in terms of rebuilding, but Meereen was definitely on the road to recovery. Many Unsullied were working to clear out excess debris from ruined buildings and quite a few were helping rebuild the homes and businesses for former masters and freedmen alike. Progress was slow but steady. Give it a few more days, and probably all the excess rubble would be cleared off the road and at least a handful of the damaged buildings would be halfway repaired. It was all good work, Torrhen knew, and he was indeed proud of his mother for all she was doing to restore the city to its previous state… but everything the former masters said was still running through his mind. Despite his own self-hatred for doing so, he glanced back over his shoulder at the golden harpy statue in front of the blacksmith's shop.
He didn't like it, but the former masters had a point. Outlawing slavery itself was one thing, and if that caused the rich to lose their main source of income, that was their problem, not the rest of Meereen. But the statue itself… if those men were right and that statue was a great symbol of the culture and history of the city, then his mother was wrong to have it destroyed. Why wasn't she restoring it to the Great Pyramid? Even if she didn't prioritize it's restoration in comparison to rebuilding the vital areas throughout the city, the fact that she had every intention of restoring it soon would mean a great deal to the Meereenese people. As a Northerner, remembering the past and respecting traditions was a vital part of his heritage and personal beliefs. He didn't want to necessarily agree with the former masters about this, but everything he knew as a Northerner was screaming at him that they had a legitimate point. Perhaps the queen hadn't considered what the people would think when she made this decision? He'd have to mention this to her when he finally met her. If he could convince her to call off her plans for destroying that harpy statue, he might be able to help her boost her popularity amongst the freedmen and the former masters throughout the city.
Between his slow speed from his half-healed ankle and having to reroute his path due to one road being impassable from an entire mountain of rubble, it took Torrhen ages to make it across the city. It'd been sometime in the mid-morning when the maester had tossed them out, but now the sun was at its highest point in the sky. And the heat… it was so damn hot. His head pounded in agony from the harsh sunlight beating down on him, and he could tell the scorching temperature didn't agree with Shadow either. His wolf ears were tucked downward in distress, and they were trudging along much slower now compared to when they were first thrown out of the sickhouse.
"Stupid sun," he muttered, tucking his lute under his arm and wiping away a trail of sweat clinging to his brow. "How's it possible to be this hot?"
Talking at all took a great deal of effort of his part, and his arms felt as heavy as lead as he forced Shadow to halt momentarily so he could shrug his way out of his Northern winter cloak. It was too hot to keep it on, but taking it off only made everything slightly more bearable. Shadow panted heavily at his side, just as worn out and overheated as he was. Unlike Torrhen, Shadow didn't have any respite from the sweltering heat. His thick black fur was attached to his body. Torrhen still had his training sword, but he was reluctant to pull the direwolf aside and shear some of his coat off. If he had a knife, he'd do it in a minute, but a sword was so long. One wrong move when trying to angle the blade a certain way, and he might accidentally stab or slice his friend in another area of his body. Plus, one weird thing thing that Torrhen had discovered about Essos during his first night in the sickhouse was how different the temperature was at night. The desert city was blazing hot and all but unbearable to endure during the day, but after sunset, the temperature dropped completely. Granted, he was a Northerner that had only known Winter his entire life, so the chill of the city was nothing compared to the freezing nights he had spent in Winterfell over the years, but it still made him shiver a bit. Shadow was hot and uncomfortable due to his thick fur now, but that fur would keep him warm at night when the sun went down. It was impossible to be comfortable both ways.
Torrhen was all but worn out and sweating up a storm when they finally saw the Great Pyramid looming ahead, but the sight of it was enough to pull him through his heated fatigue. Smiling weakly, Torrhen forced his good foot to stumble onward. The sooner they got there, the sooner they could get inside and cool down.
Two Unsullied soldiers stood guard at the main entrance, faces concealed by their black helmets so only their eyes could be seen. Obviously they did this so as to conceal their emotions from their enemies, but Torrhen didn't miss how both their eyes snapped at once to him and Shadow as they trudged up to them.
Energy all but depleted at this point, he swallowed thickly and forced his lips to curl upwards into what he hoped was a friendly smile. "Hello…" he gasped, unable to suppress his fatigue and weariness from his tone. "I'm Torrhen. Torrhen Snow… This is Shadow… We're here to… to see Queen Daenerys…" He leaned heavily onto his pal when he was done. He had to if he was going to stay standing.
The guards said nothing to him at first. They simply stared between him and Shadow in disbelief through the thin slits of their helmets, blinking repeatedly. Exchanging mild looks with one another, they soon turned back to him.
"What you want with queen?" asked the guard on the left, his Common Tongue just as heavily accented as the soldiers he'd met a few days ago who dragged Ser Jorah out of the sickhouse. Either all Essosi spoke this way, or just the Unsullied in general. Whatever the case, Torrhen was just glad they spoke the Common Tongue in general. He didn't know what he would have done if he got here only to find that neither guard knew the language.
"We… We want to request an audience with her," he told them. "The queen… she meets with the common people regularly, right? Please let us see her! I have to see her!"
The first guard glanced over at his companion, but his companion didn't meet his gaze. His eyes were fixed solely on Shadow. "You go in, wait in line with others. But not beast."
Torrhen jerked, his heated fatigue vanishing rather abruptly. "What?! No!" He squeezed the fistful of fur in his hand twice as hard, unwilling to let go. "Shadow's my direwolf! My friend! He stays with me!"
"Dire… wolf?"
"No time to explain that! Just please! He stays with me!"
"No. Wolf might attack queen or others. It stays behind."
"He won't! I swear he won't! He's a good wolf, and tame! He'll protect me if someone tries hurting me first, but he won't attack anyone unless I tell him otherwise!"
"And what if you do ask him that? Too dangerous. We protect our queen."
"Come on—"
"Go in without wolf, or don't go in at all. Your choice."
Torrhen huffed. Annoying. Completely annoying. But it was critical that he finally met his future mother. He didn't have any other options here. "Fine, but on two conditions."
"No conditions! Listen to us or—"
"No, listen to me! First condition, look at Shadow right now! He's too hot! Promise me you'll find him somewhere to sit in the shade and give him some water! He'll die if he doesn't cool down soon! Take care of him for me while I'm gone!"
The guards blinked but glanced in unison at Shadow. Sure enough, the only reason the black wolf was still standing was because Torrhen was hanging onto him for support. Shadow was leaning listlessly into his boy as he panted heavily, a dull glaze in his red eyes as he stared blankly ahead at nothing.
"…Very well. We can do that," said the Unsullied guard on the right. "And what else?"
Torrhen took a deep breath, then hesitantly let go of Shadow to try putting weight down on his bad foot. An involuntary yelp of pain escaped him as he quickly picked it up again, trying to balance on one foot.
"I sprained my ankle a few days ago. I can't walk without Shadow's help. If he stays behind, I need someone to help me move around."
Again, the Unsullied soldiers looked at each other in surprise. The one on the right muttered something in the foreign language to the other, and the left-hand guard nodded in reply before turning back to him.
"I take you. Come along."
"Thank you. Shadow? Wait here for me, buddy. I'll be back soon."
The direwolf nosed his hand for a moment, looking up at him with big, sad eyes. Still, he obeyed Torrhen's words. Trotting over to a small patch of shade from the shadows of a building across the way, he laid down on his belly and stared across the road at the pyramid entrance. Waving goodbye to his dearest companion, Torrhen stumbled up to the guard who offered to help him before glancing over at the other.
"Don't forget to give him water. You promised."
"I won't."
Nodding thankfully, Torrhen allowed the soldier assigned to assist him to wrap an arm around his shoulders and hobbled slowly alongside him as they entered the pyramid.
"You're gonna take me straight to Queen Daenerys, right? It's very important that I see her right away."
"I take you to where everyone waits to see her. You wait your turn."
"Wait my turn? What?"
"Everyone wants to see Mother of Dragons, ask for help after earthquake. Everyone come before you? They arrive first, so they see her first. You wait your turn."
Torrhen groaned. Were it not for the fact he had to hold on to the Unsullied soldier with one hand and his lute with the other, he would've pinched the bridge of his nose to deal with his aggravation. "How many are still waiting to see her?"
"Over a hundred."
A string of colorful curses escaped his mouth in rapid succession. The Unsullied obviously didn't know enough of the Common Tongue to know the full gist of everything he said, but Torrhen didn't care. He was entitled to be pissed for a minute. Of course it would still be impossible to meet his mother straight away upon his arrival. Nothing could ever come easy, now could it?
When he was finally done, he pressed his lips together and closed his eyes, trying to suppress the fury building inside him. It was hard not letting it consume him, but he had to try. Whatever the reason was that caused him to get angry so easily these days, he had to fight it. He might be descended from House Targaryen, but he couldn't let his rage consume him. He wasn't a prince any more than his sister was a princess, and the last thing he wanted to do in this timeline was earn the nickname the Mad Prince. "Please tell me I'll be able to see her before court closes for the day," he pleaded. "It's… It's vital that I meet her."
"Depends how fast line moves. Sometimes it does, sometimes it doesn't. Come early tomorrow if not."
Torrhen gritted his teeth in annoyance. It was the only way he knew he could hold his tongue when they entered the main waiting area and he saw for himself how many people were lined up to speak to the queen. Sure enough, there were so many people inside Torrhen couldn't even count them all. Wealthy and poor, young and old. It was a like an endless sea of people everywhere. Torrhen barely had enough time to take them all in before the soldier steered him to the very end of the massive line-up, winding all the way around the room to the very back-most corner behind a grouping of ornamental marble pillars. Bowing to the boy once he was in place behind a rather tired-looking goat herder, the Unsullied spun around on his heel and marched out the door without another word.
Unable to stay standing thanks to ankle, Torrhen huffed and slumped to the ground against the closest pillar, making sure to stay close enough to the line so that no one could try claiming he was too far away from it and had therefore forfeited his place. Dumping his cloak and lute next to him, he sighed as leaned back against the hard marble.
This was going to be a long wait.
"Thank you so much, your grace. My family thanks you. Your generosity knows no bounds."
"It is no trouble at all. After tragedy, everyone must come together to pull through. If you'll follow Red Ant down the hall, he'll escort you to where more of the Unsullied are passing out extra food and provisions to those who need it."
"Yes, your grace. Thank you again."
Dany waited until the peasant man had fully left the room before allowing her polite, queenly smile to fade away. "I never realized just how heavy the weight of a crown could be…" she sighed. "Two hundred people already, and it's only midday."
Missandei turned to her, concern shining in her dark eyes. "Would you like to take a short break, your grace? We could adjourn for lunch and continue in an hour."
Despite how she rubbed her temples, Dany shook her head. "No, no, Missandei. That's not necessary. The people out there have already been waiting for hours now. It's not right making them wait even longer. I just need a moment."
From where he stood behind her in his bodyguard position as the Lord Commander of the Queensguard, Barristan smiled and stepped forward a bit to look her in the eye. "Your brother Rhaegar would be so proud of you, my queen. Him and your mother. Many rulers wouldn't care about the consideration of the smallfolk, let alone making sure they're well provided for after a natural disaster."
She smiled brightly. "Well, I don't intend to be like all those rulers, Ser Barristan." she replied. "I might not have been raised in a castle, but I intend to be the type of monarch who always puts my people needs ahead of my own."
"Spoken like a true queen, your grace. Well said."
"Thank you."
"But your grace, you really should consider taking a short break," Missandei interjected. "I spoke with Grey Worm before he and his men left to take the harpy statue to the blacksmith. He said there were still almost a hundred people waiting to speak with you. I'm sure more have arrived since then."
Dany closed her eyes, inhaling slowly. It was all she could do to stop herself from sighing. That earthquake had to be one of the worst possible things that could have happened to the city. These past few days she'd been running herself ragged trying to deal with the aftermath. Her Unsullied were stretched thin as they helped the citizens. Clearing debris, rebuilding dwellings, passing out supplies to citizens, and searching for survivors possibly trapped beneath the rubble. It honestly never occurred to Daenerys that people might be still alive beneath the debris after the first twenty-four hours passed, but to her surprise, Grey Worm had reported that some of his men had found a young woman still alive and buried in a small air pocket in the rubble two days after the disaster. Since then, three other survivors had also been found in that way, but the majority of the time, her soldiers mainly found dead bodies buried in the sand and stone and had them brought to the Temple of the Graces. That was a whole other ordeal that added to her stress: organizing the mass funeral for all those who had sadly passed. So far, it seemed as though nearly forty people had died during the earthquake, former masters and freedmen alike. So many citizens had been coming to her over the past few days asking for her aid, but the hardest ones for her to face were those who came asking if there was a chance their missing family members had been found alive by her Unsullied. It broke her heart to tell them that their loved ones were gone.
"Did I upset you, your grace? I didn't mean to."
"It's not that Missandei, don't worry. It's just all very overwhelming."
Barristan nodded thoughtfully. "It has been a long few days. The whole city seems to be waiting to speak to you."
"That they have, Ser Barristan. I don't wish to criticize the people, but they're all asking for the same things," she mused. "Medical aid since the sickhouses are overcrowded. Food and water. Temporary lodgings…"
"Perhaps we could come up with a better system for those who wish to see you, your grace?" Missandei suggested. "We could start asking citizens when they arrive what they wish to speak to you about? We can keep requests sorted that way."
"A good idea in theory, Missandei, but I do not wish for the people to think I am intentionally rushing through their visits. I want them to know that I care by listening to each of their requests."
"What do you propose we do then?"
Dany was silent for a short time as she considered things, but then brightened considerably. "Perhaps we've been handling all this the wrong way. We should be looking at the restoration of Meereen as a way to improve it, not merely rebuild it."
"Your grace?"
"I don't understand, my queen."
"We've only been focused so far on dealing with the current rebuilding status and ensuring that the people are provided with temporary housing and rations. We haven't thought about what will happen after everything goes back to normal," she explained. "So many former slaves were living in shelters even before the earthquake because they had nowhere to go. There aren't sickhouses to go around to care for people in the event of another tragedy. And the masters are still angry that their main source of profit is gone since I've outlawed slavery. We should use this time to rectify all this."
Barristan's eyes lit up with delight. "That's a wonderful idea, your grace. It could help bring the city together, the freedmen and the former masters alike. If we frame this right, it could show the people that you care about everyone in the city, not just the common people."
Dany nodded. She personally didn't care what the nobles of Meereen thought about her after seeing for herself how they crucified all those innocent slave children on the road to the city, but she couldn't deny that they too were now her subjects. They too deserved the chance to live in her new world, provided of course that they understood and respected her laws and rulership. So long as they accepted this and didn't challenge her, she would be just and fair towards them too.
Missandei nodded at Barristan's words, but a hesitant smile was on her lips. "I agree that it's a fine idea, your grace, but I fear you're forgetting one thing."
Her brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"
"The cost of rebuilding everything is already quite expensive. We've gone through so much gold having extra food and medicines brought in on the trade ships. We might not be able to afford to build any extra projects, let alone finish rebuilding at all."
The queen tensed. She hadn't realized just how much she'd been spending to get the city back on its feet. That was indeed a problem. "Do you suppose we should request a loan from the Iron Bank? I personally don't like the bankers considering they wouldn't entertain my brother's loan when he went to them, but my brother was both foolish and arrogant in how he dealt with them. They might be more willing to negotiate with me."
"I strongly advise otherwise, your grace," Barristan interjected. "When King Robert died, he left the crown in significant debt with the Iron Bank. They don't take kindly to not being paid back. When you reclaim the Seven Kingdoms, they'll be looking to you to repay that debt. Don't add an additional loan from them on top of that."
Dany's brow rose. "But I am not King Robert. I can see what they would expect the Lannister's to repay that loan, but they would ask the same from me?"
"If the Lannister's haven't repaid it themselves by the time you reclaim your birthright, then yes, your grace. They do not care who sits on the Iron Throne so long as the whoever wins it repays them for its previous occupants mistakes."
She sighed tiredly. "I see. That's very unfortunate. I suppose I'll have to slightly alter my initial for that fallen harpy statue."
"Are you sure, your grace?"
"I have no other choice, Ser Barristan."
"At the very least, wait for Hizdahr to return from Yunkai with the Second Sons. I know you're not fond of him, your grace, but he claimed his father was in charge of restoring many of Meereen's important landmarks before your arrival. He might have some ideas on how to execute your plan at a moderate cost."
Dany saw the logic in this and nodded. "Very well. I'll speak with him about it after he and Daario return this afternoon. In the meantime, I must continue serving the people."
Barristan nodded and stepped back into his proper place as her loyal guard while Missandei signaled to the Unsullied guarding the entryway to allow the next citizen inside. Hours passed as Dany listened to the citizens pleas. It was long and tedious, but she maintained her queenly smile and helped the people as best as she could. Holding court was certainly not as exciting as conquering, but she was a queen. It was her duty to watch over and provide for the people.
She had just finished saying farewell to a local merchant when Grey Worm entered the audience chamber, followed swiftly by Hizdahr zo Loraq and Daario Naharis. They had finally returned from their diplomatic mission to Astapor and Yunkai. They approached the steps to her dais and bowed.
"My queen," said Grey Worm, his accent quite heavy. "Unsullied do as you asked. We took statue to blacksmith. He works on it now. We came across Second Sons ambassadors on way back."
Hizdahr nodded politely. "We have returned, your grace."
"It took forever, that mission. Did you miss us?" Daario grinned cockily.
Dany's lips curled upward. "I'm glad you've both returned. I trust everything went well in Astapor and Yunkai?"
He winked. "Nothing to worry about. We handled it. Though, it seems like things haven't been doing too well while we were gone. We heard about the earthquake, and the clean up looks rough. Still, you look like you're handling things well, Daenerys Stormborn."
Dany's eyes twinkled as she nodded. Daario was a flirt, but his roguish charms were like a breath of fresh air. As a queen, the men around her had to be loyal and respectful. As a conquerer, they had to be aware of her strength so there had to be a touch of fear as well. That Daario cared little about any of that was both annoying and refreshing. And he was good in bed, that was undeniable. Always eager to please her needs… And it didn't matter how many times they tumbled in bed together. She had no reason not to since she couldn't have children.
"I'm glad to hear that. So the councils in both cities are willing to accept the end of slavery?"
Hizdahr nodded. "They have, your grace. They have agreed to your rulership and shall send all important matters to you for review."
"Good."
"However… they do ask for some concessions."
Dany's smile immediately became quite fixed. "Concessions?"
Hizdahr opened his mouth to explain, but he quickly closed it in bewilderment when Grey Worm stepped in front of him, his expression quite tight.
"My queen, I am sorry for interrupting, but my men came across something else while on our way here. I must tell you immediately."
At this, Dany straightened considerably. "What is it? Has there been any sign of Drogon?"
"No. There was an attack on one of my men. He was off-duty. We found him dead."
Dany's lips parted, but no sound came out. Missandei and Barristan were equally surprised.
"…Was the person responsible captured?" she finally asked, eyes steely. "Any attack on one of you is an attack on me. I will not permit such a heinous act to go unpunished."
Grey Worm shook his head. "No sign of those responsible."
"They did leave behind a calling card, though," said Daario, reaching into the small pouch strapped around his waist. "For you."
He pulled out a mask made entirely out of gold, with great horns carved out of its sides like the many harpy statues situated throughout the city. Flashing it back and forth between his hands so everyone could see it, he hopped up the platform steps two at a time and handed it to her.
"They… They also left a message for you, your grace," said Hizdahr, sounding rather nervous. "It was left for you on the walls of the… building the man was found in."
Daario snorted. "What? You're too shy to tell it to her straight? Brothel. We found him in a brothel."
Missandei's brows furrowed and Barristan blinked in confusion, but Dany wore her queenly mask well, allowing no one to guess her innermost thoughts. "What did the message say?"
Grey Worm's eyes narrowed, the muscles in his face tightening with suppressed rage. "'Mhysa is a master. Sons of Harpy free Meereen from her chains.'"
"It… It was written in the man's blood," Hizdahr added hesitantly.
Silence. Complete silence. Dany's fury radiated off her in waves. No one dared to so much as breathe loudly as they absorbed the full extent of their queens' rage.
"Grey Worm," she said slowly, her voice low and hard. "I would like for any able-bodied Unsullied in your ranks that is not otherwise busy with rebuilding the city to be patrolling the streets. Find the man or men responsible for this and bring him to me."
"At once, my queen," he said, bowing low.
"Everyone else? Gather together in the council chambers, and Missandei? Please send for Mossador. We need to discuss what will be done in regards to this heinous act."
Missandei nodded. "Yes, your grace, but what about the court sessions?"
Dany's anger faded a bit at the question, and she sighed in regret. "I'm ending early for the day. Would you also please extend my apologies to those who are still waiting out in the reception hall? Have everyone provided with additional food rations as compensation for not being able to see them today."
Daario grinned and swaggered forward importantly. "I can take care of that. The Second Sons can pass out the food."
"Very well, thank you Daario."
"Perhaps I should accompany him, your grace?" Hizdahr suggested. "I could speak on your behalf, quell the complaints from the citizens."
"Any other day I would agree that would be a wise idea, but I have another matter I need to discuss with you, Hizdahr," Dany proclaimed, rising from her small bench. "An idea for rebuilding the city that you might be able to assist with."
"Of course, your grace. I'd be happy to help."
"Follow me, then. I'll expect everyone in the council chambers within the next half hour."
Nodding and bowing acquiescently to the Mother of Dragons, everyone parted as they hurried to fulfill their queens' orders.
There was a crack in the floor. A long, jagged crack that ran deep into the tiles. Exactly six other thinner cracks were adjacent to it. One main crack, six adjacent cracks. Seven all together. He knew that because he'd counted them.
He'd counted them exactly seventy-seven times since he'd sat down in this seemingly neverending line.
Torrhen gritted his teeth together as he stared intensely at the main crack. Focusing on that instead of how much he was drumming his fingers on his thigh was the only thing stopping him from getting up and hobbling out of this ridiculously long line. He was hot, he was tired, his ankle still hurt, he was worried about Shadow, and more anything, he was done with sitting around. He'd been stuck in this line for over three hours at this point, and during the past ten minutes, the line hadn't even budged. How long was he going to have to wait to see his future mother? He reckoned there were only another ten or so people still ahead of him now. He was nearly there! So why wasn't the line moving?
Snarling to himself, Torrhen tore his eyes away from the stupid crack and pulled his lute onto his lap. "Ridiculous. Fucking ridiculous…" he muttered. "What's taking so long?!"
At that moment, a dark-haired young man with a thick goatee and leather armor emerged from the hall that led to where the queen was holding court. Everyone else in line glanced at him curiously, but Torrhen ignored him. He looked like a typical sellsword, no one in important. He wasn't one of the Unsullied and he certainly wasn't the Mother of Dragons. He wasn't worth paying attention to.
Huffing in contempt, Torrhen slouched back against the wall and idly plucked a random lute string. A single note rang out from his instrument, low yet strong. Feeling the familiar twang of the string between his fingers normally brought him relief, but right now he was too impatient and annoyed to feel much of anything regarding his lute. Ironic, considering when he and Lyaella were first gifted their lute and lyre by Ser Davos for their sixth nameday, they had been beyond thrilled. Their father's former hand to the king had always been so kind to them, the only person the two of them had ever known who had never criticized them for embracing both sides of their heritage in their own way: Never actively promote their Targaryen blood but don't hide it either, and despite how much they hated the only three surviving Starks, be proud of that their father upheld the forgotten values of the late Eddard Stark more than any of his siblings. He was against what their mother had done to King's Landing during her war for the Iron Throne, but he personally believed she had been a good person despite that lapse in judgment. He had known their father and told them stories about how he was the most honorable man he'd ever met after the death of Stannis Baratheon, and how it still pained him, the way he died.
Despite how the memorial service that year had been a downer like it always was, that nameday when they received their instruments was the second-best nameday the twins ever had. The year before was the only other nameday that topped it, the only time Torrhen could actually recall having a nameday that felt like a nameday was supposed to feel like in terms of simply being happy. But the months that followed that wonderful nameday? Terrible. Just plain terrible, considering what had happened. Worst time in their lives, what happened that year…
Torrhen squeezed his eyes shut, clutching the neck of his lute tightly in both hands. The North remembers, that's how the saying went. He and Lyaella hatedremembering what happened back then, but they were Northerners. Remembering terrible events was part of their stupid Northern heritage. They couldn't forget no matter how much they wanted to, how much they shouldhave been allowed to be angry with their fucking relatives for what happened had they only been ordinary people instead of Northern royalty. It was horrible time for himself and Lyaella, learning for themselves just how cruel their goddamn relatives truly were. They lost any form of love they previously had or would ever have for their bitchy aunts and empty headed uncle after that. What they'd done to their parents, to them… unforgivable. It was all unforgivable. Had it not been for Ser Davos coming to Winterfell in the following months for their sixth nameday to give them their lute and lyre, Torrhen had no idea how he and Lyaella would have gotten through that awful period.
But now that he was back in the past, everything could change. He was going to change things for the better. His parents were going to live this time around. His mother would sit on the Iron Throne. His father was going to rule alongside her. And the bloodthirsty wolves were going to have to kill him first if they dared to tear them apart. It didn't matter that he was alone aside from Shadow. Wherever Lyaella and Sōnar were in this current era, he knew they'd feel the same way.
"Winter is coming, House Stark," he growled under his breath. "House Targaryen will bring the dawn, with fire and blood."
The words had scarcely left him when he was jolted out of his thoughts by the furious shouts of those in line around him.
"Jaeli naejot ūndegon se dāria!"
"We've been waiting for hours!"
"Skoro syt iksis ziry avoiding īlva?!"
"What's going on?! We have a right to know!"
"Settle down, settle down. The queen is sorry, all right?"
At the mention of 'queen,' Torrhen shot to attention. Draping his cloak over the arm holding his lute, he used the wall behind him as additional support as he carefully stood up, being mindful of his bad ankle. He looked around curiously. It was hard to see anything considering he was so short and almost everyone in line were tall adults blocking his view, but he managed to limp his way forward a few paces to poke his head through a small gap in between bodies to see what was happening. The dark-haired sellsword was in the center of the room now and calling out to everyone. Many other sellswords accompanied him. While a handful kept their hands on the pommels of their weapons strapped to their waists in the event the crowd became a violent mob, the majority of them were passing out fat loaves of bread to those in line.
"The queen is sorry, but an urgent matter has happened and she has to end the court sessions early today," announced the leader. "She knows lots of you have been here waiting for hours, and she wants all of you to be compensated for your time. Extra bread, people! Everyone gets a loaf!"
While a handful in line were grumbling to themselves, the compensation of extra food rations was enough to placate the crowd. Aside from the few of the more stubborn citizens, everyone else was thankful for the queen's generosity and gratefully accepted the bread the sellswords passed out.
Everyone was happy… except for one boy, that is.
Torrhen stared, frozen, at the sellsword leader that made the announcement. No… no, no, no! His mother couldn't end her court session. Not now. Not when he hadn't even seen her yet! How many people were still in line ahead of him exactly? He whipped his head around, eyes wild and frantic as he mutely counted the number of people who were still in front of him. Twelve. Twelve people were still ahead of him, so he was the thirteenth in line. That wasn't that many. All she had to do was wait to decide this until after he'd introduced himself. Why was this happening now?!
No… this was someone's idea of a bad joke. He did not travel all this way back in time, become separated from his twin sister and their dragon, painfully dragged himself halfway across this scorching hot city on a half-healed sprained ankle, and then sit here in this ridiculously long line for over three hours just to be told he wasted his time! That was bullshit!
He didn't give two shits what that sellsword said. He was going in there if it was the last thing he did. He was going to see the queen whether he and those other mercenaries liked it or not.
He was going to meet his mother. Now. Not in a few days when his ankle was fully better. Not tomorrow when court would open again. Now. Today. This very minute!
Torrhen's eyes narrowed into thin slits as he shoved his way through the tightly packed line of people. A few people grumbled at him as he pushed past, but he didn't pause in his stride. He was focused on one thing, and one thing only: the open archway leading to the audience chamber. He was going to walk into that hallway and see his future mother. No one was going to stop him.
"Oi, you! Get back in line," called out one of the mercenaries. Torrhen's felt his eye twinge. The world really wanted to test his patience today, didn't it?! "You'll get your loaf soon—"
"I'm not here for bread!" Torrhen snapped. Ignoring the random sellsword, he moved as fast as he could on his bad ankle to the entryway. Sadly, he wasn't fast enough. He had barely moved more than three feet away from the man when he felt a hand clamp it's way onto his shoulder.
"Woah, there! Where do you think you're going, kid?"
He looked back. The sellsword captain was the one who stopped him this time. For some reason, the cocky grin on his lips coupled with that bold glint in his eyes made Torrhen's blood boil even hotter.
"To the very person I've been waiting in line three hours to see!" he snapped. "I'm going to see the queen!"
He tried to shove aside the mans' hand and continue trudging forward, but the fingers tightened around his shoulder.
"Aw, come on, kid. Ease up," he chuckled. "The Mother of Dragons has a real crisis on her hands right now. She sends her apologies. Here—" he plucked a loaf of bread from the basket of one of his fellow sellswords who passing by "—take a loaf and get going. Share it with your family. I'm sure they'll be thankful."
A vein pulsed in his neck. His nostrils flared, his clenched fists quivering. His family? This conceited jerk was the only thing still barring him from meeting his only nearby family! Every inch of Torrhen's body was fighting the urge to scream and rage. He had to. He had to control his anger. He was furious by what was going on, but he wasn't going to make a scene beyond shoving his way inside.
"I don't have time for this," he said finally, teeth clenched hard. "I'm not here because of the earthquake! I'm only in Meereen to meet Daenerys Targaryen! I came all the way from Westeros! I've gotta get in there!"
The sellsword only looked further amused. "Oh? You're a Westerosi runaway? Came here to meet and pledge your sword to the true queen's cause?" he teased.
"What?! No! I'm—"
"Kid, I can guarantee our queen won't be pleased to see you like this, acting all angry and demanding. Come back tomorrow when you've calmed down." Shoving the bread roll in the young boys' hands, the sellsword captain waved over one of his men who had nearly finished passing out all the loaves in his basket. "Get him out of here."
"Right away, Captain Naharis. Come on, kid. Get moving."
The massive brute seized Torrhen's free arm and started dragging him off, not caring at all how the boy whimpered in pain with every step he was forced to make on his bad ankle just to keep up. They were officially making a scene now and drawing stares from numerous citizens still waiting to receive bread rations, but Torrhen didn't care. He was in too much pain from his ankle, and he was steaming from how he was being dragged away like a toddler. He wanted to start yelling and shouting curses at that conceited jerk for how he'd brushed him aside and let his anger roam free. But he didn't. He ignored the fiery instincts, shoving them deep inside himself despite how his heartbeat was pounding hard and fast inside his skull, raging at him to let his anger run free. He had to. He'd heard what this second mercenary had called his leader.
Captain Naharis. That arrogant sellsword over there was none other than Daario Naharis, the captain of the Second Sons. He was one of his mother's top ranked generals while she ruled Meereen. He could help him, take him directly to his future mother. The only reason why he wasn't now was because he hadn't really explained who he was or why it was so crucial that he meet her immediately!
Bracing himself for the inevitable rush of pain, Torrhen spun around, swiftly sank his teeth into the exposed skin of the Second Son mercenary dragging him off, and audibly yelped as he hopped fast onto his bad ankle long enough to harshly kick the man's knee with his good foot before he could recover from the bite.
"Argh! Fuck! Fucking seven hells!"
Torrhen didn't waste any time. Yanking his arm out of the whiny man's grasp, he limped away from him as fast as he could. Anyone who hadn't already been staring at him before was now officially gawking at him. Even Daario blinked in disbelief.
"What the fuck, kid?! Are you insa—"
"My name is Torrhen! Torrhen Snow!" he cried out desperately. "I'm a Targaryen bastard!"
Silence. Dead silence. No one said anything. No sharp intakes of breath. No astonished, hushed whisperings amongst those in attendance. No indication whatsoever that anyone had possibly dropped something in shock. Just complete, total silence.
Torrhen swallowed thickly as he stared up at Daario. Everything was riding on this moment. The past. The future. His and Lyaella's hopes of ever having a real family some day. Saying he was nervous would be a vast understatement.
"Please," he begged, his voice trembling. "I need to see the queen. She needs to know that I'm here. That she's not alone. If you're really Daario Naharis, then you're the commander of her sellswords. You've… You've gotta go tell her I'm out here! You've gotta help me!"
All was quiet once again in the waiting hall as everyone slowly turned to stare at the man in question. Daario didn't appear the slightest bit phased by all the eyes on him, though. He just kept staring at Torrhen with wide eyes, expression otherwise vacant.
Then, without warning, his chest started quivering. His shoulders soon followed. And then his lower lip. Seconds later, he doubled over and hugged his sides as he burst out laughing. Following his cue, everyone else there, civilian and mercenary, started laughing themselves.
Torrhen jerked, shocked by the insulting reaction. "Stop that! I'm not lying! I'm a Targaryen bastard! Honest!"
His words made Daario laugh so hard he started slapping at his knees. "Sure! Sure you… you are kid!" he wheezed. He could barely even get the words out. "Yeah, you're a… a long lost Targaryen prince…! And Old Valyria is a summer paradise!"
His words made half the people in the hall roar even harder, some even falling to their knees as they hugged their sides. Seeing their reactions was more than enough for Torrhen's face to puff red, flames as hot as Sōnar's dragonfire in his heated glare.
"I'm not lying, and I'm no prince!" he spat, disgusted. "Take me to the queen! Please!"
Wiping away a few tears in his eyes, Daario managed to control his laughter enough to straighten up and look at him. "Look, kid. I don't know what rock you've been living under all your life, but the queen is the last Targaryen, and they all had silver hair. You must think I'm an idiot."
"You are an idiot! You're an idiot because you're not listening to me! I can prove it! I have—"
"Get him out of here. Make sure he stays out."
Torrhen yelped and accidentally dropped his lute, cloak, and loaf of bread as the sellsword from before snatched him up and draped him over his shoulder as though carrying a sack of flour before heading toward the exit to the Great Pyramid. Another sellsword hurried forward, collecting his things and following them out.
"Put me down! Put me down, asshole!" Torrhen screamed, squirming as hard as he could while hitting the mans' back with both his fists and doing this best to kick him in the front with his one good foot. "I have to meet Daenerys Targaryen! Put me down!"
His antics earned him a semi-hard whack upside the head by the the pissed brute. "Knock it off, brat!"
Torrhen growled. Kicked the man firmly in the jaw one last time for good measure, he focused his attention back on Daario. The arrogant ass was staring after him with that utterly annoying grin back on his face. His control exploded at the sight of it.
"You made a big mistake today, Daario Naharis! I'm gonna meet the queen, and when I do, I'm—"
The black wolf panted happily, tail swaying back and forth. The curly-haired boy laughed and threw a stick. It shot off after it, quick as a flash.
The two small children peeked around the door. There they were in front of the crackling fireplace, all three of them. The bloodthirsty wolves. Carrying on like always, without remorse.
The little girl cautiously stepped outside and looked around. Seeing no one out and about in the snowy courtyard, she opened the door wider and motioned her friend to follow. The dragon warbled as it stepped out beside her, nosing her silver hair affectionately with her snout. She laughed.
"—gonna tell her exactly what you— huh?!"
Torrhen blinked rapidly, anger all but evaporating. The sudden quick flashes he'd just witnessed made his head spin. What in the world?
"Oi! You got something you wanna share, brat?! If you don't have the balls to finish threatening the Captain, don't think I'm gonna care about your empty threats!"
The boy tensed, only now becoming aware of his immediate surroundings. The sellsword was still carrying him and the other still had his belongings, but Daario Naharis was no longer in his field of vision because they were now exiting the Great Pyramid. Torrhen's head whipped around wildly as he took in everything going on across the street, his thoughts a disoriented jumble. Only a second ago he'd been yelling at the arrogant leader of the Second Sons, but then that mess of thoughts happened out of the blue, and now they were suddenly outside.
It had all been instantaneous to him, and that meant only one thing. Still, there was no way he could know for sure unless someone confirmed it.
"Hey, can you two tell me how long I—?" Torrhen's words died on the tip of his tongue as the man carrying him dumped him on the ground without warning. He cried out as he landed in the dirt. "Ow!"
"For the love all things holy, kid! Shut up!" snapped the mercenary. "Shut up like you did five seconds ago!"
The other sellsword nodded, deliberately dropping the boy's possessions on the ground as opposed to on his lap. "Mouth off again and I'll cut that flapping tongue of yours right out of your mouth!"
Torrhen fumed. Rising unsteadily to his feet despite his ankle, he fumbled for his training sword. "Try it! You're not mutilating me without a fight, shithead!"
"Have it your way, then!"
Both of the sellswords reached for their blades, but there was a sudden loud snarl followed by a blur of black fur. Shadow's red eyes were wild as he leapt in between his boy and the mercenaries. He pawed the ground repeatedly, hackles raised as he bared his fangs and growled.
The sellsword that had just threatened Torrhen shrieked in terror as he fell over on his bottom, crawling backwards several paces. The other sputtered in alarm, quickly drawing his sword and holding it out shakily between himself and Shadow with both hands.
Torrhen smirked. "What's wrong? Never seen a half-grown direwolf before?" he asked.
Neither said anything. They just stared, jaws dropped and eyes bulging, at the raging black beast in front of them, ready to sink its teeth into one of them should they make any sudden moves.
Torrhen chuckled as he hopped over to his things. "That's Shadow. He's my direwolf. Direwolves are from beyond the Wall in Westeros," he told them innocently, focusing on wiping away the bits of dust clinging to his bread rather than looking at the sellswords as he spoke. "They're almost extinct now, but everyone knows they're more dangerous than other wolves. They're just as smart as people. And when they bond with someone, they bond for life. They don't take kindly to someone threatening their human."
The sellswords eyes darted quickly darted to one another before back to Shadow and then to each other again. With a wordless nod, the one holding up his sword cautiously sheathed it, and the other visibly trembled as he rose up.
"Just… Just go. Tell that wolf to back off and go."
"Yeah. Get out of here, kid. You and that… that beast."
Torrhen scowled. "I'm not leaving. Not until I meet the queen."
"Not happening, kid. Not our decision."
"We… We listen to what Captain Daario tells us. He told us to kick you out. We did as he asked."
"But I have to see—!"
"Try again another day, kid! Now call off your wolf! It looks ready to eat us!"
Torrhen huffed, blowing a loose curl out of his eyes. It was clear they weren't going to listen to him. If not even Shadow could make them step aside, nothing would. He was just wasting his time now. "Down, Shadow."
Growling one last time for good measure, the black direwolf gradually calmed. His fur flattened down to its usual resting place and his fangs pulled back into his mouth. His ears remained pulled back in warning though, and his red eyes remained locked on the Second Sons mercenaries in case they tried anything. But they didn't. As soon as Shadow lowered his guard, they bolted back inside the Great Pyramid without another word.
"Assholes. Hope they get stuck doing the shit jobs in the rebuilding projects," Torrhen muttered to himself. Shaking his head a bit, he turned to glance down at his direwolf brother. "Thanks, Shadow. You did great. Those jerks deserved a good scare."
Shadow lightly panted, his pink tongue lolled out of the side of his mouth as his boy happily petted him. Tail wagging happily, he peppered Torrhen's hand in slobbery kisses before curiously turning his head to the loaf of bread in his other hand.
Torrhen initially laughed, but then a thought suddenly occurred to him and his smile fell. "No, boy. That's not a treat. If anything… that's gonna be our dinner. For the next few days, probably."
Shadow blinked and cocked his head to the side, almost looking genuinely curious.
The boy sighed. Draping his cloak over his arm again and passing his lute to Shadow to carry, Torrhen motioned for his friend to follow him as he started limping down the street. "I didn't get to meet her, bud. The queen. I didn't. I got thrown out before I could see her. The guards wouldn't listen to me. We're on our own for now, Shadow. Just you and me. And since we don't have any money… that's all the food we've got. We're gonna have to make it last."
A low whine escaped Shadow's throat. He nudged his boy lightly with his wet nose as they kept walking.
Torrhen half-heartedly smiled. "Thanks, pal. I know you're on my side. With our sisters gone, I'd really be alone if you weren't here. And speaking of Lyaella and Sōnar, I know they're okay. At least… At least I think they are."
Shadow looked up at him again, intrigued.
Pausing momentarily to hop out of the way of some freedmen wheeling carts of rubble down the dirt path, Torrhen bit his lip and continued. "My fire flickered again, boy. You know how it is for me when that happens. Only this time… this time something really weird happened. It seemed instantaneous to me like usual, don't get me wrong. But I also… I also saw stuff."
Shadow was a good listener. He didn't gasp or furrow his brows in disbelief like a person would have at such a statement. He simply blinked his red eyes curiously and waited for Torrhen to continue.
Ducking into a debris-filled alley to get out of the way of the busy streets, Torrhen slowly stumbled over to a rather large piece of rubble that was both flat and large enough for him to sit on. Once he was settled, he dumped his stuff next to him and sighed.
"Maybe I'm wrong and I imagined something. I've never really been able to comprehend anything during a fire flicker before, but I guess it's possible. I don't know… And it all happened so fast!" he added, waving his arms around to emphasize. "I didn't get the chance to absorb everything, but… but I saw things happening. Moments, really. But not whole events… Sorry, am I not explaining this well, boy?"
Shadow evidently didn't understand. Torrhen could tell. After all, if his direwolf did understand what he was trying to say, he would be listening attentively, not currently circling around himself in place and curling himself up into a perfect ball to nap in a shady spot at his feet.
Snorting humorously to himself, Torrhen gave him a quick scratch behind the ears before slouching backwards to lean up against the wall of the building behind him.
"There was a boy with a wolf like you, Shadow. A black one! And the boy had curly hair. They were playing. I don't think it was us, though. Then… Then it was like looking at myself. I saw me and Lya. It was only for a second, but I think… I think it was that day I saw."
Shadow's ears perked up at that, and he quickly open one red eye. A low growl escaped his throat. Torrhen wasn't concerned though. He knew why his friend was growling. The memories of that day were enough to make him want to growl too.
"Then… Then I saw Lyaella and Sōnar together. They looked fine. They were in some empty courtyard somewhere. It was all snowy. I think they're somewhere in the North, Shadow. I don't know where, exactly, but I could tell she's safe. She and Sōnar both are."
Shadow relaxed at that statement and settled down again after a few licks to his fingers. Torrhen smiled. He was glad Shadow was relieved to hear they were okay. He himself was relieved. It was a weight off the boys' shoulders knowing he didn't have to worry about her accidentally being stuck in the future without him or possibly kidnapped by someone against either House Stark or House Targaryen in the past. He still had to figure out where she was, that was a top priority, but he was happy to know she and their dragon were both okay.
Still… he didn't know what the heck all that had been about. Was his fire flicker developing a new twist? If so, why now? Why now when he was stuck in the past without Lyaella and Sōnar? No one other than his sister had ever believed him about his fire flickers. If she were here, he knew she'd understand. She'd be just as puzzled about it as he was, but she would try to figure out whatever it was that he saw. She was the smart between them, after all. Him? He was a fighter, through and through. He had to be. She was so shy and meek, and couldn't fight well at all. Someone had to protect her whenever Sōnar or Shadow couldn't.
He had no idea what happened to him, but if it was just a one-time occurrence, then he was glad that it showed him his sister was safe. At least one of them were, considering his current circumstances.
Chuckling dryly, Torrhen stared up at the sky. "Alone on the streets with only my direwolf, lute, training sword, and one measly loaf of bread. No money, and no clue at all now how I'm gonna meet my future mother… and I don't know the local language. Fantastic prospects for changing history for the better!"
What in the name of all the gods out there was he going to do?