AN: Yes, this is two chapters in quick succession. And this one has the debut of a fan favourite character. Please enjoy.
As he reclined on a soft couch, Tyrion Lannister popped another grape into his mouth.
This may be another gilded cage… still, it's far better than being the Yellow Whale's slave. Or being a sellsword, for that matter.
"It's still pretty noisy out there… Just what could be happening?"
Those words came from the only other dwarf in the room—indeed, the only other person in the room. She was nineteen at most, closer to being a girl than a woman in Tyrion's eyes. Few would call her attractive, with her squashed nose, heavy brow and the twisted proportions typical of dwarves. Her brown eyes were the best part of her… and there was too much trust in those eyes for Tyrion's comfort.
"I am just as much in the dark as you," Tyrion said. "Perhaps our—" he resisted the temptation to say "jailers", "—guards know, but I doubt they are willing to tell us."
"What if, the next time they come to ask questions, we offer a show for them?" Penny suggested. "Then they might be willing to tell us," Her expressions darkened. "But we… don't have Pretty Pig and Crunch to do that show."
Tyrion groaned internally. He never wanted to do another dwarf joust in his life, so he was grateful that the two mounts needed for that joust were no longer around.
But that pig and dog were like family to her… And isn't that a damning indictment of everyone in her life until now?
Still… I should try to lift her spirits…
"Penny, think about that battle again," Tyrion said. Truth be told, it was more of a slaughter than a battle, but now wasn't the time to be pedantic. "We, three slaves-turned-sellswords, managed to escape in the chaos. Others escaped as well, you saw them, didn't you?"
Penny nodded. "Yes… didn't they manage to enter the city too?"
"Yes, that's right, and my point is, that battle gave us the chance to be free," Tyrion said. "So perhaps… Pretty Pig and Crunch are free as well. Perhaps they're calmly living in the plains outside right now, eating whatever they please, sleeping whenever they please."
It was incredibly unlikely. Tyrion suspected the pig and dog had been killed even before the battle outside Meereen. He'd heard a tale of a slave-catcher carrying around a severed dog's head. Even if that wasn't Crunch's head, there had been lots of soldiers out there before, hungry for fresh meat and uncaring of any trauma they might inflict on some dwarf slave.
Still, Penny looked less glum now. That cheered up Tyrion as well—he'd often found it difficult to be happy when his companion wasn't.
That still leaves the question of what is causing this commotion… Tyrion glanced at the door. Perhaps I should take a risk. It wouldn't even be the greatest risk in my life.
Tyrion got off the couch, went to the door and opened it. Standing outside were two burly men in brass masks—one shaped like a crocodile's face, the other an eagle's.
"Pardon me," Tyrion said. "Can you bring me to Barristan?"
The Brazen Beasts looked at Tyrion. Even through the masks, he could feel their contempt.
"Should we?" Crocodile Mask said. "Ser Barristan never said he's a prisoner, not like his friend."
"Might as well," Eagle Mask said. "He's only a dwarf, couldn't hurt us even if he tried."
Carefully maintaining a smile on his face, Tyrion thanked the Brazen Beasts for their kindness. He turned back to Penny to let her know he'd be gone just for a short while. Then he was led away by Crocodile Mask. Eagle Mask stayed behind to keep guarding the door.
As the pair walked down one dim corridor, a servant ran past in the opposite direction. He was so occupied with his own business that he barely looked down at the dwarf.
Tyrion asked his escort, "Pardon me, but do you know why everyone is so busy?"
"Not my job to answer a dwarf's questions," Crocodile Mask snorted. "Ask Ser Barristan, if he cares to answer."
They reached a stairwell and walked up three flights of stairs, causing Tyrion to curse his short legs. It wasn't even the tenth or twentieth time he'd done so in his life.
I never expected this little trip to Essos would mean so much… physical exertion. Then again, I never expected the majority of what's happened.
A man like me should have died several times over. Instead, somehow I've continued to survive…
When the chaos had begun, Tyrion initially thought Meereen's forces had launched a sortie against the Yunkai-led alliance. That misunderstanding had lasted until he saw a man be sliced in half by a blue blur.
Brown Ben Plumm… Tyrion recalled the battle-hardened captain of a sellsword company. I can't say I ever liked the man, nor he I. We only decided to work together for mutual gain. Still, seeing him die so suddenly, without even the chance to struggle… it was certainly a shock.
Tyrion and his two companions had then been left to fend for themselves. Almost everyone else was running away, but Jorah had refused to go anywhere except towards the city of his queen. Thus Tyrion and Penny had no choice but to follow him, as their survival odds without him were about as high as a gnat's in a spider's web.
We quickly realised that it was all being done by one person, one person who was not human in the slightest.
Then they'd witnessed the defeat of two dragons, the transformation of two dragons. Jorah, next to Tyrion, had been on the verge of trying to interfere, despite the utter stupidity of it. He'd only changed his mind after seeing the three other inhumans approaching.
Shortly after that, they were brought into the city, while hundreds of soldiers went out to loot and burn the bodies. Also to break up the siege weapons to reuse the timber. With the gates wide open and countless men going in and out, with wagons full of cargo, we found our way in…
The strange trio had stayed in a run-down quarter of Meereen for two days. But eventually, Jorah had run out of patience. He couldn't stand not knowing Daenerys' whereabouts or what was being done to find her. He'd thus decided to try sneaking into the Great Pyramid. Tyrion had been brought with him as a valuable captive, and Penny had come along for her own safety.
But as it transpired, the Great Pyramid's security was too much for a bear and dwarves to slip past… and that brings us to the present situation.
After some more walking, Tyrion came across Barristan talking to someone else. Someone whom Tyrion had seen before, though she'd been much less clothed at the time.
"—for the last time, Viserion, please be patient," Barristan said. "Your mother would not want you to leave her nest undefended."
Viserion was dressed somewhat like a picture of a female Dothraki that Tyrion had once seen in a book. She was also far more attractive than any female Dothraki, or indeed most women that he had ever seen. If not for fear she would crush or burn him, Tyrion wouldn't mind a night in her bed… assuming she slept in a bed now.
At this moment, the dragon was pacing around in obvious frustration. "Not take long, just a few days!" she snarled. "I can go, meet them!"
"No, Viserion. That is all I will say—oh. Lord Tyrion."
"Yes, it is I!" Tyrion said in the Common Tongue. To emphasise his words, he spread his hands as far apart as possible, which wasn't very far. "I was hoping for the chance to talk to you, ser."
Barristan looked at Tyrion with an expression best described as polite disgust. It was something the dwarf had plentiful experience with.
Do you wish I wasn't here? Do you wish you didn't have to host a self-confessed kinslayer here? Unfortunately, your honour also won't let you simply turn me out.
"That one," Viserion said, looking confused. "Child? Or sick?"
Tyrion laughed. This was, for once in a while, genuine laughter.
"Oh, I'm no child," he said, returning to Valyrian. "You might say I've been sick since birth. A sickness that stops me from…" his mind struggled to find the next word, "getting as big as normal."
"He is what is known as a dwarf, Viserion," Barristan explained. "Lord Tyrion—"
"As I said yesterday, I am no lord," Tyrion said. "Not any longer."
"Tyrion Lannister," Barristan said irritably. "Why have you come here?"
"To understand what is happening, naturally."
Barristan sighed. "Very well. Then I shall inform you of the good news: Her Grace, Queen Daenerys Targaryen, is on her way back to Meereen."
Tyrion recalled that moment two weeks ago, that unforgettable memory of a gorgeous silver-haired girl flying off on the back of a ferocious black dragon.
Many have discussed it since then… Many have claimed she fell from the beast's back, or was burned to ashes, or burned then eaten… quite reasonable possibilities…
"How was she found?" Tyrion asked. "And how do we already know of this? More… magic?"
Barristan nodded. "You told me you'd seen the four monsters outside Meereen. Well, their leader flew out from Meereen two days ago, tracking Her Grace via magical means. Last night, the monster reported back—also via magic. Through that method, I heard the unmistakeable voice of my queen."
"And Viserion's sister too!" Viserion chimed in. "Drogon!"
Tyrion pictured the black dragon who'd descended on Daznak's Pit, killed a boar with its flame, begun consuming the boar and also a dead pit fighter, then gotten into a chaotic fight that created hundreds of charred corpses by the end.
And even it—she, has become like the rest now… I'd never heard of any magic that created beautiful inhuman women before, but clearly it exists. Clearly all the maesters are wrong about what magic can do.
The world would be a rather improved place if that magic is used more. Perhaps I should ask that 'monster' for a favour when she returns.
Tyrion looked down at his stunted figure and grimaced. He'd never been able to get any woman to do what he wished without money involved. With this monster, he wasn't even sure if money would help.
And at the moment, I have not a single copper to my name… ah, such irony for a Lannister.
"When are they expected to return?" Tyrion asked.
"They are expected in two days," Barristan said. "They are currently seeking out the scattered bands of Dothraki, who'd earlier gone out in search of the queen, to tell them they may return. As for we in Meereen, we are currently preparing to welcome the queen back. That is the source of the commotion you've noticed."
"Ah, I see. I suppose most of Meereen must be eager to have their Mhysa back."
"Mhysa," Viserion corrected. "It's Mhysa!"
Tyrion blinked. He'd never expected to be corrected in his pronunciation by a dragon before, but then he'd never expected to see a dragon in the flesh.
I suppose she's heard the Ghiscari word for 'mother' many times, having been around Daenerys… It's only natural for her to know it well.
"Then that leaves the question of how she'll react to my humble self."
"The queen does not judge men for the sins of their fathers—or brothers," Barristan said. "The sins men commit themselves, however…"
Tyrion grinned. "Why, I think my 'sins' are quite helpful to her cause. Daenerys wants Westeros, does she not? And Tywin Lannister would have been a great obstacle to her, don't you agree?"
"True on both counts," Barristan conceded. "But that does not change the fact you slew your own father."
"A father who'd never treated me as a son even once," Tyrion said coldly, reverting to the Common Tongue again. "You know that full well, ser. Most may think of the Kingsguard as just swords without minds, but I know you've seen and heard much in your time. Do you call me a liar? Do you claim the great and noble child-killing Lord Tywin ever treated me as a son?"
"…No," Barristan said, looking away.
Viserion looked between the exiled dwarf and the exiled knight. "What was that? Only understood part…"
"An uncomfortable discussion, Viserion," Barristan said, softening his expression. "I hope you never experience such… trouble with your own family."
Well, it's not as if she has a father to know, Tyrion thought. All the stories I've heard claim Daenerys hatched three dragons from seemingly petrified eggs, with no living dragons nearby or anywhere else in the world.
"Well, that is all I wanted to discuss," Tyrion said. "I'll let my companion know. The news of Daenerys' return should cheer her, she was quite excited at the idea of performing in front of a queen."
"I'm glad to hear that," Barristan said. "But is that truly all? Do you not wish to know about Ser Jorah?"
"Jorah? He kidnapped me." Tyrion grinned, showing how one of his teeth was missing, courtesy of a strike from Jorah some time ago. "Dragged me across half of Essos in chains, accidentally got us caught by slavers, all to make up for his own foolishness towards a queen who wants nothing to do with him. Oh, and I had not mentioned this before, but he wasn't even faithful to her. When I stumbled across him, he was with a Lyseni whore, one with the typical features of her people."
Barristan clenched his fists in quiet fury. He no doubt knew that Lyseni typically had silver hair and purple eyes, features shared with the Targaryens.
"…I will inform the queen when she returns…"
"As for Mormont's fate, I care not," Tyrion continued. "Chop off his head, hang him, lock him up and throw away the key, it matters not one whit to me."
Crocodile Mask spoke up. "She'd probably have him burned by dragons, I think."
Viserion frowned. "Jow-rah? Why we burn him? He do wrong?"
Tyrion made a mental note that the dragons, or at least this particular one, had trouble understanding human activities. That knowledge might prove useful in future.
"Jorah… lied to your mother for a long time," Barristan explained. "She told him to go away and never come back, or she would have him killed."
"Lied?" Viserion said, tilting her head. Tyrion watched in fascination at how this made her silky hair frame her face. "Lied… What lie? Why lie?"
As Barristan tried to explain, in simple terms, what Jorah had done to merit exile, Tyrion casually sat himself on a stool that happened to be in the room. The dwarf wished he had some snack to munch on as he watched the impromptu entertainment.
Said entertainment was soon interrupted by a servant bursting into the room.
"Ser Barristan! Come to the window—huff—any window on the west side will do! You must see this!"
Barristan hurried towards the exit, with the others following closely behind.
What is this now? Tyrion thought, running as fast as he could. Daenerys would be returning from the north. To the west lies the sea. Are ships approaching?
Tyrion recalled what he'd seen in Volantis a while ago. He'd been there during the city's elections, where the people choose a new set of three triarchs to rule over them.
Volantis' triarchs and triarch candidates… as I recall, they can be divided into the tigers, who favour war, and the elephants, who prefer peaceful trade. But Daenerys' obsession with fighting slavery has sent shockwaves throughout the trade network… enough that there was an expectation of at least two tigers being elected. Perhaps this is a fleet come to end the dragon queen's rule.
If so… we shall see how one, rather shrunken dragon fares against warships.
They reached a window. It fortunately went low enough that Tyrion could see through the bottom portion, sparing him the indignity of needing someone to lift him up.
"Those are ships indeed…" Tyrion murmured. "But they do not look like Volantene ships…"
"It is still too far to be certain," Barristan said. "But those ships… some of their shapes are reminiscent of… Ironborn."
"Ironborn!?"
Tyrion recalled the days of the Greyjoy Rebellion. Back then, the Ironborn fleet had managed to burn the Lannister fleet while it was at anchor, leaving the Westerlands undefended. That humiliating defeat had surely pricked at his father's pride for every day afterwards… at least, until Tyrion had ended his life with a crossbow belt.
Knowing Father, perhaps that loss still rankles him, even in the seven hells…
"What would Ironborn be doing here!?" Tyrion asked in the Common Tongue. "Their islands are on the west side of Westeros! To even get here, they'd need to… to sail around Westeros, across the Narrow Sea, then along half of Essos!"
"As I said, it is still uncertain. But for now, it is time for an emergency meeting."
That meeting began a quarter of an hour later. Various people gathered in the audience hall of the Great Pyramid: a spacious chamber containing a round table and numerous tall chairs.
Tyrion was in the audience hall as well. No one had invited him, but no one cared enough to have him thrown out, either. He used this opportunity to observe the others in the meeting.
So this is the council that rules Meereen in the queen's absence… Tyrion looked at men of varying ethnicities and ages. Quite the motley bunch. Though almost all of them look like military men, the sort to fight and to command on the battlefield.
And then there's the much more attractive members. Well, perhaps not members officially, but I'm certainly glad they're present.
Two of the monsters were present, the ones with horns, wings and tails. They had different hair colours and different body shapes, one with a pear-shaped figure and the other with an outrageously hourglass-shaped figure. The latter also had strangely transparent wings, like an insect's. Both had the same kind of ethereal beauty that Viserion had now, but they were far better-groomed than the dragon.
Hmm, Tyrion discreetly looked at the figures of the monsters. I remember legends of demons who used their wickedly lewd appearances to seduce men into depravity, then steal their souls to devour.
With demons like them, I'd certainly be willing to part with my soul. And if it was both of them together… ah, I've been too long without a woman. I'm becoming lost in impossible fantasies.
Viserion was also present. Many members of the council kept shooting nervous glances at her.
When everyone was gathered, Barristan clapped his hands once to draw attention. "Thank you all for coming. I have called this meeting to discuss the fleet that now approaches Meereen."
"And I should apologise for not being present."
That youthful, almost-musical voice was coming from the direction of the blonde-haired monster, but her lips had not moved. She was holding up one of the gem-studded bracelets she wore, and it seemed this was the source of the voice.
"It's the queen…"
"Mhysa!"
"Your Grace, where are you now!?"
The councillors were looking at the bracelet with awe—though Tyrion wondered if some of them weren't also stealing peeks at the bracelet's wearer too.
So this is Daenerys Targaryen… Last of her bloodline, barring one almost-dead maester at the Wall, who might well be dead by now. Conqueror of cities, yet still just sixteen years of age… and she wasn't sixteen when she began. The girl that half of Essos has tried to kill.
"We… the four of us have landed on the ground in order to have this conversation," Daenerys said. It sounded like even she still had trouble believing her situation. "Drogon, Rhaegal… Wilmarina, and me. We are still in the Dothraki sea, we were searching for the Dothraki sent to find me, to tell them that they can now return. But more importantly," her voice took on a resolved tone, "what is happening in Meereen?"
"Ships have been sighted on the west horizon," Barristan reported. "We expect them to make landfall within the hour."
"It must be the Volantenes," said a bald and ugly-looking man with a scowling expression. He reminded Tyrion of Jorah. "Their elections have ended in a victory of tigers, clearly. Now they come hoping to crush our city!"
"It is not yet clear if Volantis is responsible, Skahaz," Barristan said. "I have half a dozen men posted by the windows, to report to me as soon as they see any distinguishing features of the ships."
"Whoever they are, I doubt trade ships would be coming to Meereen now," said a dark-skinned man with the typical expressionless face of an Unsullied. Tyrion recognised him as Marselen, someone who'd been guarding his room last night. "We should proceed under the assumption they're here for war."
"Whoever they are, I can just burn them!" Viserion growled, bringing all eyes on her. "Ships're wood, aren't they? Wood burns!"
The councillors exchanged uncertain glances. Viserion in her original form might have been a good countermeasure against an enemy fleet. However, it was unclear what Viserion could do now. Tyrion, and probably many others in the hall, had yet to see her new capabilities.
But considering that this Wilmarina defeated the two dragons before, I should not assume that looking like a beautiful woman is mutually exclusive with being dangerous.
"Viserion," Daenerys said. "You are the only dragon there, and not yet fully grown. I do not think you should take this risk."
"Just wait for us!" said another feminine voice, which Tyrion guessed was Rhaegal. "Be back soon!"
Then there was another voice from the bracelet, deeper and much harsher than the previous two: "Just burn them…"
Tyrion had never heard that voice before, and probably most in this room hadn't. Yet judging from the fearful expressions on many of the councillors, they all realised who it was.
"The black…"
"Even it… she was transformed?"
"Lady Wilmarina did defeat the other two, and that was with them together…"
"To confirm, I have indeed transformed the third of the dragons," said a smooth and elegant voice, one that certainly—in Tyrion's mind at least—fit the leader of the band of monsters. "And… educated her to be less aggressive."
There was a snarl from the unseen Drogon. However, Tyrion didn't hear any signs of a fight breaking out.
That beast slaughtered half the pit fighters in Meereen, as if they were children, and she defeated it… apparently without effort, judging by the sound of her voice.
Hmm. I was hoping to have my revenge on my sweet sister using the power of dragons. But it seems the power of these monsters is superior…
Tyrion glanced at the two monsters here. From what little he'd seen of them, they didn't have any fighting capability and their personalities were more like that of his estranged wife, young Sansa Stark.
But their mother presumably cares for them… not that I know of such things. If I can find a way to influence them, I can influence their mother. "If" being the operative word.
"So to conclude, please wait there, Viserion," Daenerys said. "Your mother and sisters will be there with you by…"
"Tomorrow, noon at the latest," Wilmarina said.
Viserion growled but said nothing more.
"That still leaves the problem of this fleet," Skahaz, the bald man, said. "They'll be here long before the queen, two dragons and monster return."
"Are they a major threat?" Grey Worm said. "Their fleet may be superior to that of Meereen, even after our recent capture of ships. Yet their fleet alone cannot breach Meereen's walls. The siege we faced until very recently also had a fleet, yet it had to work in concert with a large land army, and our walls could still hold them at bay."
"If this fleet is from Volantis, then it will be nothing like the fleet of the Yunkai alliance," Skahaz said, slamming a fist on the table. "Volantis is the biggest of the Free Cities. They'd be able to muster hundreds of ships, as well as tens of thousands of troops. You can expect them all to be proper troops, none like those fools brought along by Yunkai."
Barristan stroked his chin. "In the worst-case scenario, we need only hold out until tomorrow. I do not think even a fleet of Volantis could stand against three dragons, and the being who defeated them—unless I am presuming too much?"
"No, you are not," Wilmarina said. "I can help fight them for you—provided you keep my daughters safe until then."
Tyrion felt a shiver run down his spine. He was reminded of when Catelyn Stark had kidnapped him some years ago. Catelyn had been acting on mistaken beliefs, but her determination and cunning to protect her family had been quite real.
Now I'm imagining Catelyn Stark with magical abilities… if that had been the case, my family would never have won the War of the Five Kings…
"We shall," Barristan said. "In the interim, I have already sent orders to the ships we recently captured. They are to move upriver, putting them out of reach of this potentially hostile fleet."
"Then we should discuss the other defensive measures," Grey Worm said. "First, the guards on the walls…"
There was a discussion on military matters, one that Tyrion soon lost interest in. His interest became focused on the two monsters in the audience hall.
Only two here... the one in a giant flower is not present.
Unlike most in Meereen, Tyrion actually did know what lay hidden behind those petals. He, along with Jorah and Penny, had been watching events from behind a low hill. He had thus seen that green-skinned monster's womanly body, as she tried to wake an unconscious Wilmarina.
Very different from the others, but still quite pretty, from what I could glimpse from a distance. Just why is she so different, though…?
Tyrion recalled the dragons shrinking down into women. For various reasons, it was something that would never fade from his memory.
The dragons went from reptilian beasts to women with reptilian features. Then… is that flower monster the result of… a similar transformation, but of a flower? And was it a normal flower or some magical equivalent?
After what felt like a few minutes, Tyrion's speculation was interrupted by a servant rushing in.
"Ser Barristan! Saw sigils on some of the ships! The ones I could make out were a scythe, a squid and a fish!"
Tyrion's jaw gaped. "Wait… it is Ironborn after all?"
A few of the councillors looked at Tyrion. While they hadn't cared before, it seemed they were now wondering why he was here.
"Who is that?" Daenerys' voice asked. "I do not recognise him."
"Your Grace, I told you the previous night of Jorah Mormont returning with one Tyrion Lannister," Barristan said. "You have just heard Lord Tyrion."
"…I see," Daenerys said. It sounded like various emotions were mixed in her words. "And just what brings you to—well, not to Meereen, since my former knight did that. What brings you to this meeting? Why do the affairs of Meereen concern a Lannister?"
"It is a long story, one best told in person," Tyrion said. "And currently, there is a more pressing issue. One that I am willing to help with, however little I can, since my own life is on the line as well."
Grey Worm nodded at this. "This one concurs. What do you know of the capabilities of these Ironborn?"
"I've heard of them only in passing," Skahaz said. "Aren't they pirates of Westeros?"
"That much is correct," Tyrion said. "The Ironborn are a culture focused on the sea and on raiding—they believe that paying coin for goods is less impressive than taking goods and people by force. 'Pirates' is an apt description. 'Slavers' would also be correct."
Actual Ironborn might disagree with the latter description, based on certain books Tyrion had read. Still, there was almost no difference in practice between the Ironborn's thralls and salt wives, and the slaves of Essos.
"The kraken is the sigil of their ruling family, House Greyjoy, while the scythe and fish are sigils of two lesser families," Tyrion continued. "But it is very strange for them to come here, so far from home. And Meereen is not an ideal target for them. They prefer weak targets such as fishing villages, not walled cities."
"The Ironborn…" Daenerys murmured. "I can think of one possibility, but it is so unlikely… Ser Barristan, what side did the Ironborn take during the Usurper's Rebellion?"
"They did nothing at first," Barristan replied. "Only late in the rebellion did they involve themselves, and they fought against the Reach, who were supporting your family."
"Then my possibility is more unlikely still…" Daenerys said. "In any case, here is my decree: meet with the Ironborn leader, if they are willing to do so, and find out their purpose. If they prove hostile, then hold Meereen against them until my return."
Barristan responded with "Yes, Your Grace!" Other members of the council had similar responses. And Tyrion saw the two monsters looking flustered, apparently wondering how they ought to respond.
After some more discussion, the meeting came to an end. They agreed on a certain group heading out to meet the Ironborn.
Amelia and Elise, the two monsters, had been wondering if they should go. However, their mother was very firm on them not taking a step out of the Great Pyramid until her return.
Viserion had wanted to go, but she was still… very far from diplomatic. Her mother thus told her to stay put, unless she heard a call for help.
The group ended up including Barristan, Grey Worm and similar individuals, naturally. They put on their various sets of armour, checked their weapons, then marched out from the pyramid.
Yet this group also included someone who was rather out of place.
"Is it necessary to bring the dwarf with us?" Grey Worm asked.
"Lord Tyrion is of Westeros, like myself," Barristan replied. "He is also possessed of a keen mind. He may be able to offer additional insights on the Ironborn."
Being praised, even slightly, by Barristan the Bold is something I never expected, Tyrion thought. Out loud, he said, "Worry not, Lord… Grey Worm. I won't be going anywhere near the Ironborn, so you won't have to protect my stunted self."
Grey Worm frowned. "This one is not a 'lord'. Only a commander of soldiers."
"Well, this one is not a lord either, not anymore. Yet our honourable knight still finds it difficult to omit my title."
While exchanging banter in this way, they walked through the streets of Meereen. People lined up along the sides of the streets to watch.
All these proud, tall warriors… and one dwarf. Perhaps I should have been hidden in a barrel and carried by the others.
Tyrion noticed children pointing fingers at him and giggling. Some of the children were taller than him.
Then these miserable brats would be spending their time in more productive ways…
Westeros and Essos were two quite different continents, each with a diversity of cultures. Yet it seemed that one thing they had in common was disdain for dwarfs. And a dwarf who no longer had a nose would attract even more attention.
They eventually came to a gate in the western wall of Meereen. There was a marketplace in front of the gate, though the merchants currently looked nervous. A few brave ones did try hawking their wares to the passing soldiers.
At the gate itself, Tyrion separated from the rest, staying here while Barristan and his men went out. Tyrion still continued to watch from the half-open gate.
Outside the western wall was a large port with numerous piers, and beyond this was a bay of blue water glistening in the sun. Filling this bay were dozens of ships. Many were the famous longships of the Ironborn, shallow-drafted ships built for speed. Yet there were also large and powerful warships, as well as a motley collection of what looked like merchant ships and slaver ships.
I can certainly recognise the slaver ships, after being in one for a time, Tyrion thought as he glanced at large galleys, built with plenty of hull room to store their wretched cargoes. Although they were too far for him to smell anything, he could easily imagine the terrible stench of hundreds of captives packed together.
The fleet was currently at anchor. One of the warships, bearing the golden kraken of House Greyjoy, had stopped ahead of the others, so close to Meereen that Tyrion could see the faces of those on-board.
There were many brutal-looking men with scars and tattoos, typical Ironborn. One of these stood out for being half a head taller than the rest, as well as for wearing plate armour on most of his body. Another was also unusually tall, and he had coal-black skin and flame-shaped tattoos on his face.
Moqorro!? How did he get on an Ironborn ship!?
Tyrion had met the red priest once before, while travelling together on a ship from Volantis. He'd thought the man dead after he was swept overboard in a storm.
Then again, I've survived quite a few things I shouldn't have… a man with his physique and… possible magic would be far more likely to survive crises.
Meanwhile, Barristan's group was waiting at the end of one pier, putting them close to the Ironborn warship—the flagship of this fleet, Tyrion realised.
"I am Barristan Selmy, Hand to Queen Daenerys Targaryen!" Barristan declared in a booming voice. "For what purpose have you come to Meereen!?"
The tall Ironborn in plate armour stepped forward. He had black hair flecked with grey and black eyes. He was solidly built, with a huge chest and thick arms that looked like they could crush a man with ease. Despite being on a ship rocking in the waves, he moved effortlessly towards the railing at the ship's edge.
"I am Victarion Greyjoy, commander of the Iron Fleet!" His voice was even louder than Barristan's. "I have come here seeking an audience with Queen Daenerys!"
"She is not present currently!" Barristan replied. This information had been deemed acceptable to share. "She will return to Meereen on the morrow!"
Victarion looked down on Barristan. He certainly didn't look like a man used to being denied anything.
Barristan the Bold, against a fierce captain of the Ironborn… a confrontation that would be sung of for generations. But I do hope it doesn't come to that. I prefer my famous battles in song rather than right in front of my eyes.
"…On the morrow," Victarion said. "You swear this is true?"
"I swear on my honour as a knight and my oath to my queen, Her Grace will return on the morrow."
That seemed to satisfy the Ironborn. "Very well. Even on the Iron Islands, the name of Barristan Selmy commands a measure of respect. I shall wait… one day and no longer."
Victarion turned and walked away from the railing.
Moqorro, however, did not turn away. He looked down at Barristan's group, probably inciting fear in the non-Unsullied members. Then he looked up and his eyes met with Tyrion's.
He…!
Moqorro smiled and bowed his head briefly. Then he too turned away, soon disappearing below decks.
Tyrion took a few moments to catch his breath.
He… was he… greeting me, now that we've reunited?
Tyrion had met many people who were considered terrifying, for a range of reasons. One of the latest being an inexplicably powerful existence who could defeat dragons in open battle.
Yet the aura that priest gave off… it still shook him to the core.
I must be imagining things… yes, that must be it.
Barristan's group returned to the gate. They looked like they were just as confused as they'd been before the meeting.
"Why would a Greyjoy come to this remote land to meet the queen…?" Barristan wondered. "I know of this Victarion. He fought for his father Quellon during Robert's Rebellion, then for his brother Balon during the Greyjoy Rebellion. All that I know of him suggests a true Ironborn, and a man dedicated to his family's cause. I do not think he, or House Greyjoy as a whole, now plans to serve Queen Daenerys…"
"Perhaps he's come here seeking her hand in marriage?" Tyrion suggested half-jokingly. "I've heard many men want the same thing."
"Even if she were not married already," Grey Worm said, "this one doubts she would accept such a man."
"Grey Worm, he was not being serious when he said that," Barristan told his fellow commander.
"Well, if you want to be serious, then I have this to say. That black-skinned man who was with Victarion, I've met him before. He's a red priest."
Barristan showed little reaction to that. However, several others flinched at Tyrion's words.
"You're sure of this?" asked Grey Worm.
"Yes, he explicitly told me of his faith, in our last meeting," Tyrion replied.
"I do not know much of these red priests," Barristan confessed. "As I recall, they serve a god named… Ralor?"
"R'hllor," Grey Worm corrected. "Also called the Lord of Light. His is one of the greatest faiths in the world, with thousands upon thousands of worshippers."
"When I was in Volantis, I heard their high priest speaking of Daenerys," Tyrion said. Technically, Jorah had translated the words to him, but that was a pointless detail. "These priests see her as… some sort of chosen one? A hero from the legends? Moqorro was sent here in the hopes of converting Daenerys to their faith."
Barristan frowned. "Her Grace knows of many faiths, but she is not particularly adherent to any of them."
"Well, this Moqorro wishes to change that," Tyrion said. "That's as far as I know. The man is… an enigma. To begin with, have you ever seen or heard of any man with skin of that shade?"
Everyone else in the group shook their heads.
He looks as if his very flesh has been burned black as ash, Tyrion thought. And isn't that a pleasant image? Perhaps it's some magic that renders him immune to further burning. If so, it would make him a good emissary to the dragon queen.
"…You have indeed proven useful, dwarf," Grey Worm said. "But what does all this mean for our current plans?"
"We must inform Her Grace at once of what we've learned." Barristan said.
They began hurrying back to the Great Pyramid. Quite a few people called out questions, wanting to know what this strange fleet was here for. Barristan simply replied that that was still under investigation, but the fleet wasn't a threat for now.
Tyrion ran out of breath partway through. He'd improved his stamina after coming to Essos, but he still wasn't able to keep up with the battle-hardened and non-dwarf men around him. Eventually, Grey Worm picked him up and carried him over a shoulder. Tyrion was too exhausted to even complain about the indignity.
Once they returned to the Great Pyramid, and Tyrion had regained a little of his breath, he addressed Barristan again.
"It seems this faith of R'hllor is spreading its influence everywhere. While I was still in Westeros, I'd heard of Stannis Baratheon taking a red priestess into his service. There were… rumours of her possessing true magic, and using it to influence the course of the war. Mostly dismissed as fanciful tales…"
"But Stannis Baratheon is not a man to fall for superstition or mummer's tricks," Barristan said.
Tyrion, and no doubt Barristan as well, thought about the grim and humourless man who aspired to be king of Westeros. Stannis was nothing like his older brother, who might have taken in a red priestess purely out of his lust for female flesh.
What is Stannis doing at this moment? Most of his strength was crushed on the Blackwater, but he himself escaped. And he is not a man to surrender.
…I do hope he hasn't overthrown my family already. I could never be satisfied if he cheated me of my chance at vengeance…
"Many say the red priests have true power," Grey Worm warned. "Though, admittedly, it is not comparable to what Lady Wilmarina has demonstrated, or even the dragons."
"Well, I'll leave that for you to discuss with the queen, magic and gods are not my specialties," Tyrion said. "As for me? I think I'll go back to my pleasant rooms, tell Penny what I've learned today, then take a well-deserved nap."
"Then this is farewell," Barristan said. He looked uncomfortable. "Tyrion Lannister… I am grateful for your assistance today."
Tyrion waved a hand dismissively and walked away. He'd had enough dealing with honourable warriors for one day. He much preferred the dishonourable sort.
I almost wish Bronn was here… he'd have some choice comments on the situation.
Moving on, it's clear why Moqorro has come here, but why the Ironborn? Much like Stannis, they are not the sort to just follow the whims of a foreign god. They cling quite stubbornly to their own Drowned God.
Perhaps Victarion Greyjoy was truthful about being here for Daenerys. The Ironborn haven't been a serious threat to the rest of Westeros for centuries. That would… change drastically if they had dragons.
But that can't be all. Ironborn may be iron-headed fools with barbaric traditions, but even they are not such fools as to think this young conqueror will make an alliance with them, not when they've shown no loyalty to her family in the past.
So, just what are they planning?
After agonisingly climbing many flights of stairs, Tyrion returned to his rooms. Instead of Crocodile Mask and Eagle Mask, a different pair of Brazen Beasts now guarded the door.
"Dwarf," said a Brazen Beast with a locust mask, holding out an arm in front of the door. "Do not go in now."
"What? Just what is happening in there?"
"It's alright, Tyrion!" called out Penny in her cheery voice. "You can come in."
Locust Mask reluctantly withdrew his arm. Tyrion opened the door and went in.
"Penny, just why did they—oh."
Inside, Amelia was sitting next to Penny and touching the latter's hair, which had now turned bright green. An Unsullied was standing nearby, and he looked at Tyrion warily.
Normally, a stunningly gorgeous woman in my rooms would be a happy occasion… but considering who her mother is, I must be very, very careful what I do and say.
"Hello, it's Tyrion, right?" Amelia said, waving a hand while smiling in a way that would have most men kneeling at her feet. "I just came here to talk to Penny, hear her story."
Penny giggled. "And she offered to help me look however I want, using magic!" She bounced a lock of her green hair up and down. "I've seen Tyroshi with colourful hair before, but I never thought I'd get to try it myself!"
"It turns out… she's been through a lot," Amelia said quietly.
Amelia and Tyrion maintained eye contact for a while. Tyrion suspected that she was thinking the same thought that he'd had many times.
Just how can a girl who's lost her family, who's looked down on by the world, who's forced to put on humiliating shows to make a living… still be so optimistic?
"Anyway, now that you're here, I want to hear your story too," Amelia said. Her gaze dipped briefly to a point below Tyrion's eyes. "You're a dwarf too, but you had a really different time growing up, from what I heard."
Tyrion sat down on a chair. "Yes… that's one way to put it. Being born into a noble family meant I never had to worry about money, for most of my life. But there were other issues…"
For the next half an hour, Tyrion told his story. And while he learned some things from Amelia, helpful for his long-term goals… he also revealed far more of himself than desirable. Not Tysha, he managed to keep that sorry moment in his history a secret, but many other facts spilled from his lips.
Once again… my weakness to a pretty face betrays me.