Unsullied Barracks, Astapor
Boyd:
When I leave my quarters I share with Mossador and the other ninety-eight Unsullied, I know that I don't have to worry about anyone stopping me and asking where I'm going because there are Unsullied guards guarding the gates, but there are none patrolling around the Barracks. I find two Unsullied guarding one of the Handlers' quarters but they let me in without a question, probably because they see a loyal Unsullied like them, but I'm not.
The reason I'm here is because the Unsullied aren't just conditioned to be loyal to and obey the Good Masters and whoever buys them, they're conditioned to obey whoever holds a whip that symbolizes command and ownership over them. All the Handlers have command whips and I intend to kill all of them and take the whips. If I was just Boyd, I would probably hesitate, but I'm not. I'm Boyd with an Unsullied's training and conditioning and anger. I don't hesitate.
With glowing Alpha red eyes helping me see even better than Moonlight, I stealthily kill all ten of the Handlers in the first quarters and leave with one command whip in hand. I close the door behind me and command the two Unsullied guards to follow me to my quarters. They see the command whip and follow me without question.
"Mossador!" I wake the other Unsullied up when I enter our quarters, but I ignore them for now. "That's your name again."
"This One…"
"You're Mossador again," I interrupt him, and show him and the other Unsullied the command whip in my hand.
"This One is Mossador again," he repeats obediently, emotionless; I don't feel guilty, but I know I should. "This one is pleased to serve you, Master."
He doesn't really mean it. It's an automatic response drilled into all Unsullied.
"We're not slaves anymore, Mossador," I tell him. "I'm not your master. I want to be your Alpha and for you to be my first Beta. If this is what you want too, give me your hand and I'll turn you into a werewolf and my first Beta. If you want to leave, you can leave."
I finally listen to the full Moon's call to shape-shift into my werewolf form for the very first time since I woke up in this world so that Mossador and the other Unsullied can see what a werewolf looks like. I don't know what I look like now as a werewolf, but the Unsullied in the room take up their weapons, but they don't attack. Mossador gives me his hand after a moment.
Eyes glowing Alpha red, my teeth that of a wolf and fingernails turned into long and thick sharp claws, I grab hold of his arm and Bite his forearm and wait with a racing heart. The waiting is short, for there's a full Moon tonight. Mossador's eyes are the first to shift, from human brown to cold Beta blue, the cold blue eyes telling everyone that he has killed an innocent person, a baby, like all Unsullied must to gain a shield in completion of the Unsullied training.
His first transformation under the full Moon is nothing like mine was in my original body. His transformation is smooth and he's not uncontrollably violent because of the extreme discipline drilled into him, me and the other Unsullied. I feel our Alpha-Beta connection form and I don't feel alone anymore.
"How do you feel?" I ask Mossador curiously.
"This One feels strong, Alpha," he says with muted emotion in his voice, which is better than it being completely emotionless.
And I detect a little of that earlier curiosity and interest.
"You didn't exchange one master for another, Mossador," I tell him, but I know that I'm lying. "I call you by your name, you can call me by mine."
"This One feels strong… Boyd."
I know he does, I do too, and I also know he feels angry. The Handlers that trained us for the Good Masters didn't train our anger out of us, they allowed us to keep it and taught us how to contain and weaponize it. Werewolves are fueled by anger and the full Moon. This is what I'm counting on. I only killed ten Handlers, there are far more in the Barracks, which contain about eight thousand fully trained Unsullied and five thousand in various stages of training, and they're going to feel the our pain tonight. We're going to tear them apart.
With the successful turn of Mossador, I proceed to give the Bite to the other ninety-eight Unsullied and the two Unsullied I came with in rapid succession because the night is not young, the Moon will set in a few hours and I want the Barracks to be ours by Sunrise. The Unsullied—we, me and Grey included—are done being slaves and being sold and bought. When the Sun rises, so will the Unsullied Pack.
~
The Good Masters' Pyramid, Astapor
Kraznys mo Nakloz's Servant Quarters
Missandei:
Like all slaves and servants everywhere, I wake very early in the morning before the Sun rises and the masters wake, and go about my morning routine before I attend to my duties. Unlike the others, my duties aren't to do household chores, they're learning more languages so I may serve my master Master Kraznys to the best of my abilities. This adds more value to my life and protects it. So far, it has protected even my virginity because I started showing my usefulness as a translator not long after I was stolen from my home and Master Kraznys bought me.
Master Kraznys would rather I save him money by eliminating the need for many translators he would have to waste money to feed than warm his bed. He has many bed slaves, and can get more, but there's only one of me. No one else is as gifted as I am when it comes to matters of the tongue and he keeps on getting me tutors to sharpen this gift of mine. Some tutors only teach me what they should, others are generous and teach me more than they should.
My current tutor is generous and I enjoy every moment of his lessons and this morning is no different. Perhaps I enjoy the lessons a little too much because I'm annoyed when a servant interrupts and calls me away. Of course, I don't show or voice my annoyance. That would be foolish and I'm not foolish. I quickly follow the servant because Master Kraznys doesn't like waiting.
"Master," I greet Master Kraznys in High Valyrian, which is the most common language spoken here, at the entrance of the Pyramid with my head bowed and eyes cast down. "You called for This One?"
This One… I have a name, but I dare not speak it unless I'm asked. No slave does. We don't address ourselves in first person, at least not out loud in my case. I highly doubt I can say the same for the four Unsullied guards that always accompany Master Kraznys and me when we walk to the Unsullied Barracks to give buyers that don't speak High Valyrian a tour, which is where we're going judging by the presence of the three men I've never seen before.
I say this because the Unsullied have no sense of self whatsoever due to their harsh training. I've watched Master Kraznys command enough Unsullied to harm and even kill themselves just to prove to buyers that they're completely obedient and feel no pain. He even cut off an Unsullied's nipple once and the Unsullied thanked him for it. I'm glad I was not born a boy, this would have been my fate if I was.
"Make yourself useful and translate," Master Kraznys confirms my judgment of the situation and my work begins as we walk to the Barracks.
As usual, every now and then he insults the buyer and his two guards because they don't speak High Valyrian. I don't translate what is said most of the time, I paraphrase and do my best to see to it that trading will take place and my master will be pleased. This is how I learned to trade. Another usual occurance during these walks to and from the Barracks is that the buyer wants to know if he can buy me as well.
The answer is always a definite no. Several potential buyers have not taken the answer well, not used to being told no, and responded violently, and our four Unsullied guards have put them in their place. This buyer is not one of them, although he looks at me with plain lust in his eyes and asks if he can at least have me for a night. Master Kraznys likes having something no one else can have and showing it off, so he fondles my breasts and buttocks before he tells me to say no.
In truth, he prefers Ghiscari women with more meat on them over a slim Naath like me. Regardless, I'm relieved when he stops touching me and directs the attention to the gatehouse of the Unsullied Barracks with four armed Unsullied guards standing guard atop it. Strangely, the gate is down when it should be up. A servant is always sent ahead to inform the Unsullied Handlers about a tour so we can find the gate open and Unsullied ready near the gatehouse to he presented.
"Open the gate!" Master Kraznys commands when we reach it.
With his command, the gate is opened without delay, for he holds an ownership whip of the Good Masters that outranks the command whips of the Handlers and even the ownership whips given to buyers, not that they know this. It's a safety measure the Good Masters take to ensure the Unsullied aren't used against them.
"Apologies, Good Master Kraznys," the Head Handler apologies with a shaking voice, approaching us with equally shaking legs, the Unsullied to be presented nowhere to be seen. "We did not expect you today."
"What do you mean you did not expect me?!" Master Kraznys frowns deeply. "I sent a servant to inform you."
I notice that the Head Handler's eyes keep looking at the gate in desperation, probably afraid of the punishment that awaits him for the embarrassment, even if the buyer and his guards don't speak High Valyrian.
"The servant did not deliver your message," he forces out the words through a dry and tight throat. "Even so, the Unsullied are always ready for your arrival and to be presented. May I lead you to them, Good Master?"
Seeing a man who trains the Unsullied to be fearless warriors so scared is… interesting. Even more interesting is getting to see the Barracks beyond this point. In all my years coming here, I've never went deeper into the Barracks, I've only seen the front section the Unsullied are presented in.
"Are you a man or a goat?" Master Kraznys questions, looking at the Head Handler like he's being foolish. "Do you want outsiders to know the layout of the Barracks? Bring the Unsullied out here, you fool!"
The Head Handler doesn't look like he wants to go get the Unsullied, he looks like he wants to run to the gate and this is exactly what he does. He runs to the gate with the desperation of a slave trying to escape, but something suddenly hits him in the back and scents him flying into the wall of the gatehouse and pins him there. It takes a moment for me to realize that something is a long spear.
"Who did that?!" Master Kraznys demands to know as our four Unsullied stand in front of us protectively with their shields and the buyer and his guards take out their weapons, looking where the spear came from, the gate of the wall that separates the front section of the Barracks from the inner section.
"I did!" An Unsullied without a helmet on answers, coming of the gate flanked by two Unsullied with helmets on.
A moment later, Master Kraznys, the buyer and his guards suddenly hold the backs of their necks before they collapse. Our four Unsullied move to attack the trio.
"Chameleon, throw the ownership whip to me!" The Unsullied without a helmet says with urgency in his voice while the two flanking him hold out their shields.
An Unsullied suddenly appears out of thin air near Master Kraznys, takes the ownership whip from the floor and quickly throws it over the attacking four Unsullied into the hand of the Unsullied without a helmet just as they reach him.
"Stop!" He commands, and the four Unsullied stop immediately while the Unsullied that appeared out of thin air holds a sword to my throat and Master Kraznys and the buyers and his guards try to speak but can't seem to open their mouths. "Things have changed since you were last here, and now they'll change further. You four, stand here while I handle this."
The Unsullied with the ownership whip leaves our four Unsullied standing and walks over to us with the two flanking him.
"I don't know why you didn't turn into a werewolf, but I'm glad you're a were-chameleon, Chameleon," he tells the Unsullied holding his sword to my throat and then looks at me; I avoid looking at him. "Um, are you the translator?"
"Y-yes," I stutter my answer, my entire body shaking in terror.
"Are you hired or are you enslaved to Kraznys?"
I've never heard a slave call the Good Masters by their names before, let alone an Unsullied.
"This One is enslaved to Good Master Kraznys," I reply.
"Do you want to be free?" the Unsullied that defies what I know about the Unsullied asks a question that is not easy to answer.
I know what it's like to be a slave, I don't know anything about being free. The thought of being free is scary. As a slave, Master Kraznys' slave, I know my role and I'm protected and provided for. I only have to worry about learning new languages and walking the fine line of translating and paraphrasing and I'm good at that, I enjoy it. I don't know what I would do if I'm suddenly free.
Where would I live? What would I do for a living? Who would hire me as a translator? Who would protect me? What if I'm captured and sold to a crueler master who doesn't have use for my talent with languages and only sees me as a bed slave to be discarded when he's tired of me? There are too many unknowns.
"Why are you so conflicted?" The strange Unsullied asks. "This is not a trick question. Do you want to be free?"
"This One doesn't know how to be free," I tell him.
"Neither do the Unsullied," he says, and I glance at his face to see understanding; I've never seen understanding on an Unsullied's face before, or any emotion, they've always been stoic, so this is a shock. "For most of us, this is all we've ever known because of people like them. (He points at Master Kraznys, the buyer and his guards and the dead Head Handler.) It's time we make them pay. Chameleon, let go of her and drag these three to the interrogation room and tie them up. Tell the were-vultures to come get that one off our wall."
Chameleon removes his sword from my neck, sheaths it and does exactly as instructed like a normal Unsullied. I breathe a little easier.
"What's your name?" The strange Unsullied asks me. "Mine is Boyd."
An Unsullied with a normal name? He's truly a strange one.
"This One's name is Missandei," I respond, taking the chance to speak my name out loud and savor it because I don't get it often.
"Missandei?" He, Boyd, sounds surprised. "Are you from the Island of Naath? Do you have brothers by the names Mossador, Marselen and Musedar?"
I don't just glace at him this time, I look at him in shock.
"Yes! Are you, are you my brother?" I hope against hope that he is; perhaps he changed his name, Unsullied get a new name everyday.
"No," he shakes his head, and my heart sinks. "He is. (He motions at the Unsullied to his right with his head, smiling.) Mossador, take off your helmet."
I wait with baited breath as the Unsullied that is allegedly my older brother Mossador takes off his helmet after Boyd takes his spear. I've long forgotten what my parents and brothers used to look like, but when I see Mossador's face, I see my father's face looking back at me. Tears blur my vision and I feel lightheaded. I think, I think I'm going to faint. Yes. I'm going to faint. I hope this isn't a dream and that he'll be here when I wake up.