The Chosen One: Anakin Targaryen

by AiWhatIf

Anakin Skywalker is more Targaryen than some actual Targaryens. The dreams, the ego, the prophecy’s, the madness…the children who kiss each other. It all fits. In this Fanfiction we look into, what if Anakin was in the Game of Thrones universe. Will he retake the Iron Throne with the powers of the light or dark-side of the force?

1. Chapter I

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[280 AC - Westeros]

Westeros is one of the three continents in the known world, the others being Essos and Sothoryos. Most of the area of Westeros is covered by a political entity known as the Seven Kingdoms, while the far north beyond the Wall includes the free folk.

The Seven Kingdoms encompass a diverse landscape ruled by powerful houses. In the frigid North, House Stark reigns from Winterfell, their ancestral fortress. The mountainous Vale is under the control of House Arryn, who reside in the Eyrie, a breathtaking castle perched high above the land. The Riverlands are governed by House Tully from Riverrun, a stronghold overlooking the fertile riverlands. The Iron Islands, a rugged archipelago, are ruled by House Greyjoy from Pyke, a formidable castle guarding their shores. The Westerlands, a land of gold and power, are controlled by House Lannister from Casterly Rock, a towering fortress carved from the heart of a mountain. The Crownlands, directly ruled by the King on the Iron Throne, are centered around the city of King's Landing, home to the Red Keep, a magnificent palace. The Reach, known for its abundance, is governed by House Tyrell from Highgarden, a resplendent castle renowned for its beauty. The Stormlands, a region of windswept plains and rugged coastlines, are ruled by House Baratheon from Storm's End, a formidable fortress facing the fury of the sea. Finally, Dorne, a sun-drenched land of deserts and oases, is governed by House Martell from Sunspear, an ancient castle reflecting the region's unique culture.

The closest foreign nations to Westeros are the Free Cities, a collection of independent city-states across the narrow sea in western Essos. To the south of Westeros lie the Summer Isles.

The Defiance of Duskendale happened when Lord Denys Darklyn defies King Aerys II. He withheld taxes, demanding a revised town charter and specific rights for his citizens. In an attempt to resolve the situation, King Aerys II personally visits Duskendale, only to be taken captive by Lord Darklyn. After being held prisoner for half a year, he is eventually rescued by Tywin Lannister, the Hand of the King, and Ser Barristan Selmy of the Kingsguard. As a consequence, the entire House Darklyn is executed.

Many argue that this event marked the onset of Aerys's descent into madness. Cracks begin to appear in the king's demeanor.

He declines to arrange a marriage between his son, Rhaegar, and Tywin Lannister's daughter, Cersei, instead opting for Rhaegar to marry Princess Elia Martell of Dorne.

In a year of false spring, a grand tournament is held by Lord Whent at Harrenhal. King Aerys II and Prince Rhaegar attend, along with numerous lords from across the Seven Kingdoms. Prince Rhaegar emerged victorious but, to the surprise and anger of many, he names Lyanna Stark of Winterfell as the Queen of Love and Beauty instead of his own wife, Elia, who is due to give birth to their second child any day now.

Lord Tywin Lannister is incensed when Aerys named his son Jaime to the Kingsguard, effectively disinheriting him in favor of his younger, dwarf brother, Tyrion. Enraged, Tywin resigns as Hand and returns to Casterly Rock.

Aerys had become paranoid over talk in the castle that Tywin is the true ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. This leads him to dismiss Tywin as his Hand, remove Lady Rosaline Mormont from his Small Council, and have Ser Ilyn Payne's tongue ripped out with hot pincers. He then appoints Jon Connington as his new Hand and Varys, a eunuch from Lys, as his new Master of Whisperers.

In the penultimate year of the Mad King's rule, the son of crown-prince Rhaegar Targaryen and his wife Eilia Martell is born.

Elia, due to her delicate health, nearly died giving birth to a baby boy, after which the Maesters told Rhaegar she would be unable to have any more children.

Maester Aemon, to whom Rhaegar sent regular messages via raven, recalled that the prince believed his son to be the 'Prince That Was Promised'.

Despite his father's desire to name him Aegon, his mother's insistence on a more Dornish name prevailed, resulting in Anakin Targaryen, first-born son of Rhaegar Targaryen and heir to the Iron Throne.

[281 AC - Westeros]

Rhaegar and Elia's first-born daughter, Rhaenys Targaryen, deeply adored her younger brother, who was born with the distinctive silver hair of their father, a stark contrast to her own appearance.

At the tender age of 3, the young girl was acutely aware of her own appearance. Following her birth, her mother had to remain bedridden for six months, and it was her father, Prince Rhaegar, who introduced her to the court. Her grandmother, Queen Rhaella Targaryen, embraced her warmly, but her grandfather, King Aerys II, refused to touch or hold her, claiming she smelled 'Dornish'.

Anakin would only come to know bits and pieces about his lineage, which seems to be shrouded in mystery. People used to believe that Prince Rhaegar Targaryen would make an excellent king, eventually taking over for his father.

Following Lord Tywin's resignation as Hand of the King and his subsequent departure from court, King Aerys' suspicion and paranoia shifted towards his own son and heir, Prince Rhaegar.

Within the court, a palpable tension arose between the factions supporting the king and those loyal to the prince. Grand Maester Pycelle, in a letter to the Citadel, expressed his concern that the escalating tensions and divisions at court mirrored those before the Dance of the Dragons. Fearing the potential outbreak of civil war, Pycelle emphasized the urgent need for an agreement that would appease both factions.

Inevitably, tensions ignited between House Targaryen and several other Great Houses, culminating in an outbreak of war. The alleged abduction of Lyanna Stark by Prince Rhaegar sparked the conflict, leading to numerous noble houses rebelling against Targaryen rule.

In truth, however, Lyanna had not been kidnapped; she had eloped with Rhaegar, who had the High Septon issue an annulment to his marriage with Elia Martell.

As the daughter of Rickard Stark, Warden of the North, and betrothed to Robert Baratheon, Lord Paramount of the Stormlands, Lyanna's abduction outraged both House Stark and House Baratheon.

Brandon Stark, impulsively rode to King's Landing and confronted King Aerys II, demanding justice for his sister. Aerys, instead, arrested Brandon for treason and then offered to ransom him to his father, Rickard. Despite counsel against it, Rickard responded, believing the issue would be resolved through negotiation.

Tragically, Aerys burned Rickard alive, while Brandon strangled himself, perishing in an attempt to save his father. This cruel act garnered widespread sympathy for the rebels, prompting many houses to align themselves with their cause.

Jon Arryn, the Defender of the Vale and Warden of the East, was a highly respected nobleman. He fostered two young boys, Eddard (Ned) Stark and Robert, who later became close friends. When King Aerys demanded the surrender of these boys to the King's Justice, Jon Arryn defied the order and raised his banners in revolt.

This rebellion led to an alliance with House Tully through marriage, with Eddard marrying Catelyn Tully, who was initially betrothed to Brandon, and Jon marrying the young Lysa Tully. This conflict came to be known as Robert's Rebellion or the 'War of the Usurper' to Targaryen loyalists.

Throughout the war, which lasted approximately a year, the whereabouts of Rhaegar remained a mystery to many. As Robert Baratheon's rebel army advanced from Storm's End through the Reach and the Riverlands and then up to the Trident, Rhaegar remained elusive. It is believed that he spent most of this time in seclusion with Lyanna at the Tower of Joy in Dorne.

Stannis Baratheon, Robert's younger brother, fought alongside him during the war. Aerys, using his allies in House Tyrell, laid siege to Stannis at Storm's End for a significant portion of the war. However, Stannis's forces were saved from starvation by the smuggler Davos, who managed to bring a ship full of onions and fish into the castle.

In the initial stages of the rebellion, King Aerys still perceived Robert Baratheon as merely a rogue lord. However, after Robert defeated all the local royal armies and crossed the Trident, Aerys finally acknowledged the gravity of the situation, recognizing it as the most severe revolt the Targaryens had faced in over a century.

Simultaneously, Rhaegar returned to the royal court at King's Landing to lead the crown's forces. Before departing for war, he visited Elia and his children, bestowing kisses upon their heads and bidding them farewell for what may be the last time.

Both sides then marshaled their full military might: Robert led his rebel army, comprising Baratheon, Stark, Tully, and Arryn forces, southward, while Rhaegar led the royal army, bolstered by Targaryen armies from the Crownlands and an additional 10,000 from Dorne, northward to confront him.

Doran Martell, the Prince of Dorne, was incensed by his younger sister Elia's mistreatment which led to his reluctance in supporting House Targaryen during Robert's Rebellion.

As the battle preparations commenced, King Aerys II threatened Elia's uncle, Prince Lewyn Martell of the Kingsguard, reminding him of his hold over Elia and her children. Lewyn assumed command of the 10,000 Dornishmen who were eventually dispatched to aid the Targaryens and accompanied Rhaegar into battle at the Trident.

En route, Rhaegar confided in Ser Barristan that upon their victory, there would be 'many changes' at the royal court, hinting at his intention to depose his father due to his crimes and instability, and to restore peace with the Great Houses of the realm.

At the pivotal Battle of the Trident, Rhaegar Targaryen's fresh but slightly larger army faced off against the battle-hardened forces of Robert Baratheon. The clash on the Kingsroad over the river near the Inn at the Crossroads was intense.

As the battle raged, Rhaegar and Robert engaged in an epic duel that lasted for hours. Robert's mighty blow from his war hammer shattered Rhaegar's ruby-studded breastplate, sending its gems scattering into the ford, which became known as the 'Ruby Ford.'

With their leader slain, the Targaryen army succumbed, granting victory to the rebels. Amidst the chaos, Lewyn Martell also perished.

Driven by paranoia, King Aerys II believed Lewyn had betrayed Rhaegar and held Elia Martell and her children hostage in King's Landing to prevent Dornish retribution.

Rhaegar's death dealt a fatal blow to the Targaryen cause, as many of their supporters had rallied behind him, and not the Mad King.

The remnants of the Targaryen army were shattered, forcing the desperate king to send his son Viserys, grandson Anakin, and pregnant wife Queen Rhaella to Dragonstone for safety.

Reluctantly, Elia surrendered her infant son to Queen Rhaella, who promised to protect him as her own. With heavy hearts, Elia and her daughter witnessed Anakin's departure, a painful moment in the decline of House Targaryen.

As the rebel army advanced unhindered towards King's Landing, Tywin Lannister's forces arrived at the capital first. Throughout the rebellion, House Lannister had maintained neutrality, but after the Battle of the Trident, Lord Tywin Lannister led twelve-thousand of his western men towards the city.

Tywin claimed to have brought his army to aid Aerys in his hour of need, and the king, believing them to be allied reinforcements, opened the gates to them. In reality, they initiated the Sack of King's Landing in the name of King Robert Baratheon.

Amidst the chaos, King Aerys II was killed by his own Kingsguard, Jaime Lannister, Tywin's eldest son. This earned Jaime the infamous nickname, 'Kingslayer'.

Jaime later recounted that as he was murdering Aerys to thwart his wildfire plot, Ser Gregor Clegane and Ser Amory Lorch were scaling the walls of Maegor's Holdfast, while Lord Eddard Stark led his own forces through the city gates. Amory killed Elia's daughter, Princess Rhaenys, after breaking down the door; he dragged the screaming girl from under her father's bed and stabbed her to death. Gregor raped and murdered Elia Martell, following orders from Tywin Lannister.

When it was all over, Robert laid claim to the Iron Throne due to his early involvement in the rebellion, having been the first to take up arms and slaying Prince Rhaegar. As the sole rebel leader with Targaryen blood, through his mother's lineage, Robert's claim was further solidified. The other rebellion leaders also pledged their allegiance to him.

After Lyanna's tragic demise, Robert married Cersei Lannister as a token of appreciation to her father, who joined the cause late in the conflict and secured King's Landing for Robert. Tywin Lannister retained his title as Warden of the West.

Jon Arryn was later appointed as Robert's Hand, while Eddard assumed his father's position as Warden of the North.

House Tyrell, House Martell, and House Greyjoy swore fealty to Robert, preserving their pre-war statuses, thus maintaining the Seven Kingdoms under the new royal House.

[281 AC - The Tower of Joy]

Perched on the northern edge of the Red Mountains in Dorne lies the Tower of Joy, a significant structure that holds a place in history. Situated at the northernmost point of the Prince's Pass, it is flanked by Kingsgrave to the south and Nightsong to the north.

This tower was the sanctuary of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark, after they secretly eloped and married.

Following the Sack of King's Landing and the demise of the Mad King, some loyalist forces persisted, unaware of the capital's fall and the ascension of Robert Baratheon to the Iron Throne.

Despite his disagreements over the royal family's murder by House Lannister, Eddard Stark ventured south to end the Siege of Storm's End.

Once Lord Mace Tyrell surrendered and the siege ended, a small group of loyalists to the Mad King remained: the Kingsguard who were absent from the Battle of the Trident and the fall of the capital.

When the rebellion swelled into a formidable force threatening the Iron Throne, King Aerys dispatched Ser Gerold Hightower, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, to summon Prince Rhaegar Targaryen back to the capital. Rhaegar returned only to perish in the Battle of the Trident, while Ser Gerold stayed in the Red Mountains for reasons never explained.

Amidst the towering Red Mountains of Dorne, Ned Stark and a meager band of Northmen clashed against a formidable duo: Ser Gerold Hightower and the legendary Ser Arthur Dayne of the Kingsguard.

Hightower fell to Ned's blade early in the conflict. With the Sword of the Morning slicing down the rest of the Northmen, what began as a ferocious melee rapidly boiled down to a tense duel between Dayne and Ned, in which Dayne eventually gained the upper hand and disarmed Ned; luckily for Eddard, Dayne was stabbed in the back by Howland Reed, and eventually finished off by Ned. Victorious but weary, only Ned and Howland emerged alive.

Entering the Tower of Joy, Ned found his dying sister, Lyanna, draped in a crimson shroud. With tears streaming down her face, Lyanna tells Ned she wants to be brave but she is afraid she is going to die. Ned tells Lyanna that she is not going to die and desperately orders the handmaidens to aid his sister.

However, Lyanna revealed the shocking truth: she had given birth to a son, Aegon Targaryen. Fearful for her child's life, she implored Ned to protect him from Robert's wrath.

As Ned listened in stunned silence, a handmaiden gently placed the tiny infant into his arms. The weight of Lyanna's secret settled upon him. In a solemn vow to safeguard the boy, Ned resolved to raise him as his own bastard son, Jon Snow.

[281 AC - Dragonstone]

Dragonstone is a castle on the island of the same name at the entrance to Blackwater Bay, below the Dragonmont. A short distance west of Dragonstone is the island of Driftmark, which is the seat of House Velaryon, a Valyrian house and historically a naval power. Other houses sworn to Dragonstone include Celtigar of Claw Isle, who are also of Valyrian descent, Seaworth of Cape Wrath, Bar Emmon of Sharp Point, and Sunglass of Sweetport Sound.

Erected by ancient Valyrians, this castle's dragon-shaped facade exudes an aura of mystery and dread. As the ancestral home of House Targaryen in Westeros, Dragonstone bore witness to the rise and fall of the Targaryen dynasty. After Aegon's conquest, it became the residence of the heir apparent, the Prince of Dragonstone.

The island, though old and strong, commands the allegiance of only a few lesser lords whose islands are too thinly populated to provide any great numbers of troops, although they have some naval strength.

Tragedy struck on Dragonstone when Queen Rhaella perished while giving birth to her daughter, Daenerys Targaryen. The fierce storm that raged during her delivery also destroyed what little remained of the Targaryen fleet, a disaster that earned her the moniker of 'Daenerys Stormborn'.

With King Aerys, Queen Rhaella, Rhaegar, Elia, and Rhaenys all dead, Anakin, Daenerys and her older brother, Viserys, are the only living Targaryen heirs.

As Viserys had been crowned king on Dragonstone by Queen Rhaella before her death, Daenerys and Anakin received the titles of 'Prince and Princess of Dragonstone' as Viserys's heirs.

When Robert Baratheon seized the throne, he bestowed the castle upon his brother Stannis, establishing House Baratheon of Dragonstone. Stannis, built a new royal fleet in preparation for an assault on the island.

With the Targaryen fleet destroyed by the storm during which Daenerys had been born, the garrison at Dragonstone were prepared to sell the Targaryen children to Robert.

However, before they could act on this plan, Ser Willem Darry and several other loyal retainers took the children from the nursery and smuggled them into exile, sailing across the Narrow Sea towards the Braavosian coast.

[287 AC - Braavos]

The city of Braavos, is the northernmost, the richest, and arguably the most powerful of the Free Cities. It sprawls across a hundred interconnected islands in a vast lagoon. Its streets were a maze of stone bridges and canals, lined with tightly packed houses and adorned with grand statues and towering structures. The jewel in the city's crown was the Titan of Braavos, a formidable stone fortress in the shape of a colossal warrior, which stood guard at the entrance to the Great Lagoon.

Braavos was renowned for its seafarers and master swordsmen, as well as its thriving trade industry. The Iron Bank, one of the most powerful financial institutions in the world, called this city home. But beyond its wealth and power, Braavos held a unique beauty, with its striking architecture and absence of protective walls.

As autumn descended upon the city, bringing with it fog, rain, and icy drizzle, the canals became treacherous to navigate. But even during these dreary days, glimpses of sunshine would occasionally break through the clouds, giving hope to the residents.

Winter brought an added challenge as the canals would freeze over, making travel by boat nearly impossible. Yet despite these harsh conditions, life in Braavos continued on. The people adapted to their environment and found ways to thrive.

One of the most ingenious solutions was the sweetwater river - a gray stone aqueduct that spanned from the mainland to the heart of Braavos. It provided clean drinking water for those lucky enough to have access to it in their homes, while public fountains quenched the thirst of others.

But not everything in Braavos was easily accessible or readily available. Firewood was a scarce commodity due to strict laws protecting the valuable soldier pines and black spruce trees that acted as natural windbreaks for the harbor. And even though prices were high, residents still struggled to keep their homes warm during the frigid winters.

Despite these challenges, life in Braavos was vibrant and full of character. From the bustling fish market on the Long Canal to the grand statues that lined the Canal of Heroes, there was always something new to discover in this city of a hundred islands. And at its heart lay the Isle of the Gods, where the Palace of Truth stood tall, flanked by impressive structures and adorned with intricate details.

Though it may have lacked trees and greenery, Braavos was a city rich in culture and history, a testament to its resilient people and their determination to thrive in even the harshest conditions.

The Drowned Town was a district lost to time, its sunken buildings obscured by the murky waters of the lagoon. Despite its watery grave, some of the less fortunate residents still clung to life in the partially submerged structures.

Nearby, the Spotted Cellar hosted intense eel fights while small wharves and landings scattered throughout the city served as hubs for fishermen and ferries.

But it was the three main harbors that truly defined Braavos - the Chequy Port for customs inspections, the Purple Harbor exclusive to Braavosi ships, and the Ragman's Harbor for all others. Ragman's Harbor was known for its raucous atmosphere and housed some of the city's most known inns, alehouses, and brothels like the infamous Moon Pool.

Throughout the city, temples and shrines dedicated to various deities dotted the landscape. The grandest of them all was the Temple of the Moonsingers, perched atop the Isle of the Gods with its gleaming marble facade and celestial windows.

Other notable places of worship included the ever-changing Temple of the Father of Waters and the enigmatic House of Black and White where the mysterious Faceless Men worshiped their Many-Faced God. But even lesser-known gods found sanctuary within the Holy Refuge known as The Warren.

Music flowed through the veins of every Braavosi citizen, with affluent individuals donning elegant attire in shades of gray and black while swashbuckling Braavosian's flaunted flamboyant colors.

In this bustling metropolis, boats were preferred over horses for transportation and language was a unique blend of High Valyrian and trade tongue.

And amongst all of this splendor and culture, courtesans reigned supreme with their luxurious barges and devoted staff, inspiring songs and receiving lavish gifts from eager patrons.

Braavos was a city unlike any other, teeming with a unique blend of passion and violence. Courtesans' beauty and charm enraptured the hearts of many. Among them, the Black Pearl reigned supreme, her position one of both prominence and danger. For in Braavos, duels were a way of life for its pugnacious Braavosi, eager to showcase their skills and defend the honor of their beloved Nightingale.

The Water Dance, an elegant fencing style named after the Moon Pool where duels took place under the moon's watchful eye, was reserved for only the most elite warriors - known as Water Dancers. These skilled fighters engaged in duels exclusively at night, wielding slender blades and standing sideways in a distinctive stance.

The Sealord governs the city, residing in the Sealord's Palace in the northeast. Unlike hereditary succession, the Sealord is selected through a complex process by the Braavosi magisters and keyholders, serving for the rest of their life. The selection of a successor can be fiercely contested and may even lead to violence. The Sealord's protection is entrusted to the First Sword of Braavos, while the role of the elusive Third Sword remains enigmatic. The City-Watch maintains order within the streets.

As for entertainment, mummers were not your typical entertainers in Braavos. They brought written stories to life on stage at playhouses like the Ship, the Gate, the Blue Lantern, and the Dome. And unlike in other cities, they had the freedom to satirize even those in positions of power without facing repercussions. But perhaps one of the most intriguing traditions in Braavos was the annual celebration of Uncloaking - a ten-day long feast where revelers donned masks and let all inhibitions fall away. And on the tenth day at midnight, as the Titan roared and shook its foundations, all would remove their masks simultaneously.

Six years after the death of Queen Rhaella, Ser Willem Darry, a loyal knight of House Darry during Robert's Rebellion, secretly transported the surviving Targaryen children to Essos, settling in the city of Braavos.

Willem, standing at 6 foot 4, is a tall, imposing figure with a strong presence. He has a rugged and somewhat weathered look, characterized by his prominent facial features. He sports a full head of thick, dark hair that has become salt-and-pepper over the years. His eyes are a distinctive blue, which add intensity to his gaze. {Liam Neeson}

Ser Willem, Viserys, Anakin, and Daenerys lived in a house with a distinctive red door, where Anakin and Daenerys shared a room with a lemon tree underneath their window.

Willem's difficulty with raising the Targaryen siblings persisted. Viserys, the eldest at 13, displayed neither aptitude with a sword nor a desire to learn. His obsession with avenging his father's death clouded his judgment, making him immune to Willem's lessons. Daenerys, on the other hand, was a very shy and aloof 6 year-old girl, though she seemed much more keen to learn.

Conversely, Anakin, their nephew, was one he kept an eye on. The knight observed that Anakin was a remarkably intelligent boy, evident in his quick mastery of different languages.

At the tender age of seven, he stunned the household with his extraordinary linguistic abilities. He effortlessly conversed in five distinct languages: The Common Tongue, The Old Tongue, High Valyrian, Low Valyrian, and Dothraki. His family and tutors marveled at his prodigious talent, which seemed far beyond his years.

Among those astounded by Anakin's linguistic prowess was Daenerys. The two were not only relatives but also kindred spirits, bound by a shared fascination with the ancient culture of Valyria and its remnants.

One warm afternoon in the confines of their room, as the salty breeze of Braavos entered through the window, Daenerys found herself beside Anakin, a curious glint in her eyes.

"Ani," Daenerys began in her sweet, earnest voice, "how did you learn Valyrian so well?"

Anakin, not accustomed to the attention but always eager to share, replied, "I don't know. I just read from the books Ser Willem gave us."

Daenerys continues, "I read those books. I didn't learn anything," as Anakin puts his book down to meet her gaze. "Will you teach me?" she asked, her face lighting up with excitement.

"I don't know. It might be hard for a girl like you," Anakin teased, causing the young girl to pout. Noticing she took his words literally and appeared sad, Anakin revealed he was just joking, and without hesitation, eagerly accepted her request. He smiled, in an attempt to appease his younger aunt. "Sorry, I didn't mean that. Of course, Dany," he said. "I'll teach you."

From that day forward, a new bond blossomed between them. During stolen moments between their studies and lessons, Anakin patiently tutored Daenerys in the intricacies of High Valyrian. They practiced pronunciation under the shade of the lemon tree and pored over dusty tomes together, their young minds filled with the mysteries of lost languages and forgotten realms.

With the lack of children their age, aside from Viserys who they both thought was too smug, Anakin had always wanted to form a friendship with Daenerys. As she began to come out of her shell, he saw it as the perfect opportunity to finally get close to her.

As Anakin guided her through the nuances of syntax and vocabulary, Daenerys soaked up every word, her determination matched only by her admiration for her elder nephew. She mimicked his intonation and eagerly absorbed the tales of the Valyrian Freehold, dreaming of dragons and conquests as she conjugated verbs and constructed sentences.

Their secret lessons became a cherished ritual, a world of their own within their small home. Anakin, wise beyond his years, nurtured Daenerys's curiosity, imparting not only language but also a deeper understanding of their shared heritage.

When Ser Willem first learned of Anakin teaching his aunt, he admired the boy's intelligence, passion, and curiosity, though he also harbored reservations. He feared these traits would be Anakin's undoing.

If the boy had been raised in his rightful place as crown-prince, Willem believed he would have flourished in King's Landing with access to the finest tutors and Maester's to guide his intellect.

However, their secluded life in Braavos restricted his freedom and opportunities. Despite this, Anakin couldn't resist the allure of exploring the vibrant city on his own.

One evening, Anakin's insatiable curiosity propelled him to evade the watchful eye of Ser Willem and the servants hired to tend to them.

Venturing through the teeming city streets, he stumbled upon the enigmatic House of Black and White. This secluded temple, placed on an isolated island in Braavos serves as the headquarters of the guild of religious assassins known as the Faceless Men.

As Anakin approached the island, an inexplicable pull seized him, urging him towards the distant temple. Ignoring the solitude of the island, he crossed the bridge and made his way to the sole entrance.

Perched atop a rugged knoll of dark gray stone, the House of Black and White stands imposing. Its facade is devoid of windows, and a black tiled roof crowns the structure. The towering wooden doors, each twelve feet high, are intricately carved. The left door is fashioned from weirwood, while the right is made of ebony. In the heart of these doors, a carved ebony moon face is set against weirwood, and a weirwood moon face is set against ebony. The steep steps of greystone descend to a shadowed dock below. Discreet tunnels and hidden passages provide covert access to the temple. A winding staircase leads to the garret, and a steep wooden ladder ascends to the rooftop's door and a windswept perch.

Just as Anakin's hand extended to grasp the door, a firm grip clamped around his wrist. A hoarse voice reached his ears before he could turn his head.

"Are you completely mad?!" Ser Willem's aged voice carried through the night, conveying a mix of anger and incredulity that Anakin had never witnessed before.

Despite his attempts to explain his instincts and the strange calling that led him there, Ser Willem's unwavering resolve silenced him.

With a stern grip, the elderly knight dragged Anakin back to their abode, his face etched with a deep frown that revealed an unfamiliar side of the man he had always known as a kindly patriarch.

As Ser Willem and Anakin burst through the crimson door to their abode, his heart sank at the sight of Viserys and Daenerys, the latter's eyes brimming with unshed tears.

Before he could inquire, Daenerys enveloped him in an agonized embrace, her whispered plea hanging in the air: "Where did you go? You were gone for hours."

Viserys sat brooding in the corner of the room, his arms crossed and a mixture of disappointment and worry etched on his face. The startling realization that time had slipped away from him slammed into his consciousness.

"To your chambers, both of you," Ser Willem commanded the Targaryen siblings, leaving Anakin alone with the aging knight in the flickering candlelight of the living room. "You're a bright lad, Anakin. Why did you act so recklessly?" Willem inquired, his voice heavy with concern.

Anakin's lips parted, but no words escaped. He could only utter a feeble, "I'm sorry."

Willem sighed. "Son, I know you must feel trapped here… but you must think before you act." Anakin's face sagged with dejection. "Anakin, do you know why we were forced to flee our homeland?" he pressed.

Anakin recounted tales he had heard from his uncle: stories about the Seven Kingdoms, about their family and their history, the dragons, and Robert's Rebellion. Almost everything Anakin and Daenerys knew about Westeros they learned from Viserys, making them feel as if they knew what it was like without ever having been there. Viserys is intent on reclaiming his father's throne for Anakin, and he promised them a thousand times that he will take them back to Westeros, and that their lives will be much better once he does. Viserys also informs them about siege towers and the Faith of the Seven.

Ser Willem acknowledged the accuracies and inaccuracies in Prince Viserys's account of Robert's Rebellion. Believing in Anakin's maturity despite his young age, Willem decided to reveal the true events that unfolded. He narrated the actions of the 'Mad King' and Anakin's father that ignited the rebellion. Willem also shared the tragic fates of Anakin's family, including his mother and sister, a revelation Viserys had omitted.

Willem's account left Anakin contemplative and visibly affected. While the boy had displayed an understanding of the situation's complexity, he was still a child who grieved the loss of his loved ones. Unbeknownst to Anakin, Willem had concealed the existence of his sister to protect him, only now choosing to reveal it.

Later that night, after being sent to bed, Daenerys detected Anakin's faint sobs emanating from his bed. Despite his feeble attempts to conceal his distress, Daenerys discerned his tears, surmising that Ser Willem's words had stirred him.

A surge of empathy washed over her as she silently rose from her own bed and approached him. In the stillness of the night, they shared a comforting embrace without uttering a single word.

Daenerys' presence provided solace and allowed Anakin to temporarily forget the sorrow that Willem's revelations had brought him.

In the solitude of his chambers, Ser Willem's spirits waned heavily after the evening's turmoil. Anakin's tendency to act impulsively and his insatiable thirst for knowledge often put him in harm's way. The knight frequently found himself needing to reiterate the importance of minding his tongue in the company of people.

Despite being just seven name-days, Anakin exhibited an intellectual acuity that eclipsed his uncle, who was six years his senior. Ser Willem observed how swiftly the boy absorbed information and wisdom, eager to unravel every mystery that crossed his path.

The knight's heart ached with the realization that his weary body hindered his ability to guide Anakin with the sword to the same extent he had unsuccessfully tried with his uncle years ago.

Willem harbored no doubt that this young ward was indeed the son of Rhaegar Targaryen, a youth of extraordinary promise, mirroring his father's multifaceted brilliance.

Yet, as Anakin's compassion and inherent nature remained uncertain, Ser Willem feared he might not be present when they faced their greatest challenge.

Months passed, casting a somber shadow over the young Targaryens. Ser Willem's illness ravaged his frail body, forcing him to relinquish his duties as their guardian. As the elderly knight succumbed to his ailments, his servants fled the gloomy house, pilfering everything in their wake.

Orphaned and alone, Viserys and Anakin bore the burden of burying Ser Willem's remains, adhering to the Braavosi tradition of scattering them at sea. Grief consumed them as they bid farewell to their protector. The house with the red door became a cruel memory as they were cast out, leaving Daenerys shattered.

Viserys descended into begging on the streets of Braavos, his gaze eternally fixed on his sister and nephew, both of whom were still too young to do much.

The Drowned Town, with its sunken buildings shrouded in murky waters, became their refuge. The town is an area mostly submerged in water, although some people still live in the high towers and upper floors of buildings there. Only the tops of half-sunken towers and domes are visible as the rest is submerged in the lagoon. Below the Drowned Town are a series of wharves.

Amidst the eerie surroundings of a desolate slum, Anakin's gaze rested upon Viserys, who stood guard over their slumbering figures, his presence a beacon of comfort amidst the potential dangers lurking around them. However, since Ser Willem's passing, Viserys' true nature had emerged, exposing a bitterness that had long festered within him.

[288 AC - Braavos]

Unlike the Purple Harbor reserved for local vessels, Ragman's Harbor welcomes ships from distant lands. However, it stands in stark contrast to its opulent counterpart; poorer, dirtier, and noisier than the Purple Harbor.

Diverse individuals contribute to the lively scene around Ragman's Harbor, ranging from: porters, mummers, ropemakers, sailmenders, taverners, brewers, bakers, beggars, and whores.

The waterfront is dotted with numerous establishments such as the Black Bargeman, the Foghouse, the Sailmender, and the Inn of the Green Eel.

Along these bustling quays, the trade tongue holds sway, a hybrid language nurtured by the mingling of countless cultures. Anakin's exceptional linguistic aptitude prompted Viserys to permit him to beg alongside himself, albeit under close supervision within the sprawling harbor district.

On this fateful day, while Anakin was panhandling with his family in Ragman's Harbor, he noticed an unusual ship landing in the distant sea. Unlike any vessel he had ever seen, it immediately piqued his curiosity.

As Anakin approached Ragman's Harbor's docks, he couldn't help but notice that the ships were not of Braavosi or any Westerosi make.

It was a couple of minutes after the ship stationed itself, when suddenly, without warning, a group of menacing men emerged from the ships and began attacking the city guards, while capturing unsuspecting victims and chaining them up.

Curiosity got the best of him, and Anakin wandered away from Viserys and Daenerys to get a closer look at the chaos. His mind raced as he realized these were pirates, notorious for kidnapping innocent people and selling them into slavery in the far-off lands of Essos. Anakin's fear reached its peak as he was spotted and subsequently captured, shackled into chains along with other helpless victims.

As he was tossed into the dark hold of the foreign ship, taking him further and further away from Braavos, his mind panicked with thoughts of his uncle and aunt back home. He couldn't help but worry if they would be searching for him, or worse, taken by the pirates.

Images of their faces consumed his mind as the ship sailed out to sea, not knowing what cruel fate awaited him in distant lands.

After enduring cramped and unsanitary conditions aboard the confines of the ship for what felt like an eternity, he had grown sea-sick and was relieved to finally step onto the sandy shores of a beach.

Though he despised sand, he was happy to be on land. Soon, they were directed towards a more verdant area closer to the harbors.

As they made their way through bustling markets, Anakin couldn't help but notice the countless individuals bound in chains and being auctioned off like objects.

This was a common practice in Essos, where slavery had been deeply ingrained for centuries. The few regions without slavery were outnumbered by those where it thrived, with the slave trade being a fundamental part of the economy.

Anakin and his fellow Braavosi prisoners were led to a podium by their captors (pirates, following a man named Malko), who introduced them as 'prime merchandise' to potential buyers.

Anakin's heart sank as he realized they had indeed been captured to be sold into slavery. The bidding began, and he was eventually bought by a wealthy young man named Grazhar zo Galare.

Grazhar possesses a well-defined and symmetrical visage. His sharp cheekbones delineate his face, while his defined jawline adds a touch of masculinity. His dark brown eyes spark with expressive intensity, framed by thick, sculpted eyebrows. Framing his face, his dark brown curls evoke a sense of wildness. Grazhar's skin tone blends olive and beige hues, a testament to his diverse heritage. Standing at 5 foot 8, with a lithe and athletic physique, he exudes a lean and muscular presence that betrays a consistent fitness regimen. {Mena Massoud}

Anakin's distinctive features, such as his white hair and purple eyes, immediately caught the attention of Grazhar, who was captivated by his rare appearance. He purchases Anakin as a household servant for his mother, Zahrina zo Galare.

[292 AC - Meereen]

Meereen, situated on the northeast coast of Slaver's Bay at the mouth of the Skahazadhan River, is the northernmost of the infamous slaver cities. The Dothraki Sea stretches out to the north, across the river. To the west, the land extends beyond Lhazar, encompassing rolling hills and sandstone mountains as far as the Yunkish hills. The ancient Ghiscari coastal road connects Meereen to Yunkai, approximately fifty leagues to the south, and Astapor, a further hundred leagues beyond. The total distance from Meereen to Astapor along this route is between a hundred and fifty and two hundred leagues. The Khyzai Pass offers a passage from Meereen to Lhazar.

Meereen towers over the cities of Slaver's Bay, rivaling the combined size of Astapor and Yunkai. While its brick architecture shares similarities with its neighbors, Meereen's walls are a testament to its superiority. Loftier than Yunkai's, sturdier than Astapor's, and immaculately maintained, its defenses are adorned with towering bastions and formidable towers at each corner. Along the Skahazadhan River to the north and Slaver's Bay to the west, the walls ascend even higher. Rows of menacing bronze harpy heads, their mouths agape, line the ramparts, poised to unleash torrents of boiling oil upon potential invaders.

Within Meereen, the labyrinthine streets, expansive brick avenues, and grand structures create a chaotic blend of temples, granaries, hovels, palaces, brothels, baths, gardens, fountains, and fighting pits

Meereen's waste flows into the Skahazadhan River via vast brick sewers. Though iron gates seal them, some have succumbed to rust. The Meereenese do not drink the water from the river, drinking instead water gathered from wells.

Meereen's opulent nobility resides within towering stepped pyramids. Presiding over the central plaza is the magnificent Great Pyramid, its colossal height of eight-hundred feet dwarfing its twenty lesser counterparts. Adorned with a grandiose bronze harpy atop its peak, the Great Pyramid serves as the residence of House Rhazdar, its exterior adorned in the noble hues of yellow and green. Pahl's pyramid flaunts shades of pink and white, while Naqqan's is adorned in shades of green and black. In stark contrast, the modest pyramid of Kandaq stands as a testament to its occupants' humble nature. Amidst the grandeur of these architectural marvels, the underprivileged sectors of Meereen find their humble abodes between the grand pyramids.

Meereen is under the sway of the Great Masters, influential figures from ancient slaving families. These families reside in towering pyramids and include the illustrious Houses such as: Dhazak, Galare, Ghazeen, Hazkar, Kandaq, Loraq, Merreq, Naqqan, Pahl, Quazzar, Reznak, Rhazdar, Uhlez, Yherizan, Zhak, and many others.

The House of Pahl boasts the city's wealthiest and influential individual; they command Meereen's city guard. Certain nobles, such as Zhak and Merreq, maintain opulent estates in the surrounding hills.

Meereen's elite don intricate Ghiscari tokars, finely embroidered garments signifying wealth and authority. Ancient family lines often prefer specific tokar colors: the Loraq favor hues of purple, indigo, and lilac, while the Pahl adorn theirs in delicate pink and white, resembling the shade of their pyramid. Women indulge in nail art, while men, following the Ghiscari tradition, elaborately style their hair into whimsical horns, spikes, and wings using combs, wax, and irons. Meereen's nobility rarely venture through the city on horseback, opting instead for luxurious palanquins, litters, and sedan chairs carried by slaves.

In keeping with Ghiscari customs, the deceased are interred in crypts beneath their residences. Alternatively, their remains may find repose within the sacred Temple of the Graces, where candles flicker in their memory. West of the Great Pyramid is where the Temple of the Graces resides. Its colossal structure glistens with golden domes.

In the city of Meereen, the priestesses known as Graces don robes of various colors signifying their unique functions: Green Grace: High Priestess, embodying the order's spiritual leadership. Blue Graces: Healers and surgeons, skilled in treating ailments and injuries, akin to the Maesters of Westeros. Red Graces: Cult prostitutes, the only suborder granted the privilege of sexual relations, while others maintain chastity. White Graces: Young girls of nobility, awaiting their transition into other suborders upon maturity. Pink Graces: Attendants to the Green Grace, fulfilling personal and administrative duties. Gold and Purple Graces also exist, but their specific functions remain shrouded in secrecy.

Along the shores of Slaver's Bay, olive groves thrive. Once, tall cedars graced the coastline, but their presence was eradicated by the Old Empire of Ghis or consumed by dragonfire in the Valyrian Freehold wars.

On Meereen's towering pyramids, terraces blossom with night-blooming flowers, vibrant lemon trees, and sweet persimmon trees. The cityscape is dotted with verdant farmer's fields and refreshing wells.

Adjacent to the coastal road connecting Yunkai and Meereen, a diverse tapestry of flora unfolds. Waspwillow and dusky roses perfume the air, while wild mint and lady's lace paint a fragrant border. Daggerleaf, broom, prickly ben, and harpy's gold add their unique hues and scents to the vibrant coastal landscape.

The small pale yellow grapes native to the region produce a notably inferior wine. Some nobles have estates in the Ghiscari hills, where slaves grow wheat and olives, herd sheep and goats, and mine salt and copper.

The city boasts numerous fighting pits, including the colossal Daznak's Pit, Ghrazz's Pit, and the Golden Pit. Daznak's Pit, the mightiest of them all, lies west of the Great Pyramid.

Amid the wealth of Meereen, the slave trade permeates every aspect of society. Like Yunkai, the city boasts abundant slave swordsmen, valued beneath their own weapons. In the gladiatorial pits, warriors are meticulously bred and trained, while young boys and girls are trained in the brothels.

The fighting pits of Meereen have gained global renown, attracting vast commerce to the city. The city levies a hefty tax on pit profits, effectively enriching its treasury through this brutal spectacle. Meereen's currency, the 'honor,' reflects its focus on reputation. Copper is plentiful in the Ghiscari hills, and was valuable 'when bronze ruled the world'.

Within the Plaza of Purification stands a towering bronze harpy. Meereen teems with markets, such as the spice market near Rhazdar's pyramid where the Purple Lotus thrives.

Mazdhan's Maze lies near Meereen's western gate. Here, one finds the ancient Slave Exchange, the merchant's arcade adorning the southern fringe, and the weathered bronze statue of the Chainmaker. The gruesome monument known as the Spire of Skulls stands nearby, a chilling testament to the rule of the Great Masters.

For the past four years, Anakin has been toiling alongside fellow slaves. He spends his days tending to livestock and performing menial tasks under the watchful eyes of the master's overseers.

Upon Anakin's arrival in Meereen, Lady Zahrina zo Galare, the mother of Grazhar, took a liking to the boy. She often referred to him as 'the pretty one,' barely bothering to use his name. His captivating appearance, with his neck-length, wavy white hair and striking violet eyes, caught her attention and she was enchanted by his angelic looks.

In the arid embrace of the desert, Anakin's attire mirrors his environment. He dons a flowing beige tunic crafted from coarse fabric, its loose drape offering comfort and mobility. The design grants freedom of movement, reaching mid-calf for breathability under the relentless sun. Beneath the tunic lies a plain cream undershirt, peeking from the neckline for added warmth in crisp desert nights. Matching trousers conceal Anakin's form, blending into the dunes. A practical brown vest protects him from the elements, featuring multiple pockets and pouches where he can store tools and small belongings - a reflection of his resourcefulness and readiness for unexpected challenges. High-knee boots crafted from sturdy leather serve as his foundation, protecting him from rough terrain and ensuring his agile navigation through the landscape.

Despite his limited resources, Anakin's innate talent for crafting and inventing is evident, impressing those around him with elaborate objects crafted from scraps and discarded materials.

Anakin however, dreams of breaking free from this life of enslavement and reuniting with his family. The memories of Daenerys and Viserys slowly fade away as the years fly by.

Anakin grows to despise his masters, even those who show kindness like Grazhar, and yearns for freedom that seems unattainable with a collar constantly around his neck, a reminder of his lowly status as a slave.

Adjusting to life in the labyrinthine pyramid palace of House Galare was difficult for young Anakin.

His diverse set of abilities, including fluency in multiple languages, earned him favor within the household. However, due to Lady Zahrina's preference for female attendants and the resentment of other slaves towards Anakin's favored position, he spends most of his time isolated from his fellow slaves. His unique appearance also didn't help his case.

Anakin's interactions are usually limited to translating for Lady Zahrina, with his only friend being the 14-year-old Qezza zo Galare, Zahrina's youngest daughter. She provides a rare glimpse of childhood amidst the opulent halls.

Initially, Anakin remained indifferent towards her, worried it would cause him trouble to be seen interacting with a noble girl, however, it didn't take long for her to approach him, seeking camaraderie.

Qezza has dark brown hair, often styled in voluminous waves or intricate updos, reflecting a regal and princess-like look. Her expressive and large brown eyes convey warmth, resolve, and shrewdness. Her flawless olive-toned skin radiates, giving her a regal and exotic appearance. Symmetrical features, high cheekbones, and a graceful jawline define her face. Standing at 5 foot 5, Qezza possesses a slender and toned body with well-defined curves, emphasizing a fit and healthy physique. Her impeccable posture and confident stride embody the spirit of a natural leader, radiating elegance, and an aura of strength. {Naomi Scott}

One moonlit evening, in the slave's quarters as he rested among other enslaved men, faint whispers of his name reached his ears. Amidst the sleeping figures, he discerned a large form at his window - Qezza. Anakin deftly navigated past the slumbering men and exited the window, meeting Qezza outside, under the moonlight.

"What are you doing here?" Anakin inquired, his concern overriding his curiosity regarding the potential risks of her being here.

"So you do speak the Common Tongue. I'd only ever heard you speak Low Valyrian," Qezza declared in the Common Tongue, surprising Anakin.

"I asked why you're here," Anakin instinctively reverted to his native tongue. Rarely did he get to speak it; when he first arrived in Meereen, he often found himself having to consciously remind himself that Low Valyrian reigned supreme here.

"I need to show you something. Come on," Qezza responded, her voice a whisper. With Anakin in tow, she led him beyond the courtyard walls that confined the slaves. There, a small hole beneath the wall awaited them - possibly dug by a canine, Anakin surmised as they squeezed through it.

A thought consumed Anakin's mind: escape. The opportunity had presented itself to leave this oppressive city and its inhabitants behind. Yet, the presence of Qezza held him back. He could not risk her being implicated in his actions. Reluctantly, he resolved to postpone his aspiration until a more opportune moment.

As Anakin and Qezza navigated the shadowy city streets, they eventually discovered the location they sought. It appeared to be a pub or a brothel, and Anakin couldn't help but inquire, "why are we here?"

Entering in the alleyway, moving over a set of boxes, Qezza revealed a hidden window leading to the establishment's lower floor. She motioned for Anakin to peer in, and as he did, he was met with a sight he wished he could unsee.

Anakin's assumption that it was a brothel was correct, but the reality was far more horrifying. Through the window, they witnessed adults sexually abusing slaves, evidently forced to work in the establishment.

The sight was too much for Anakin to bear, and he quickly recoiled, stepping away from the window. Qezza followed suit, attempting to comfort him but Anakin didn't seem to even want to be touched.

Together, they returned back to the slave quarters of House Galare. Anakin was hesitant to ask Qezza about why she had taken him there, but she anticipated his question.

"When I was nine, I had a handmaiden who taught me to speak the common tongue. I loved her so. I guess she felt differently. She tried to run away from the palace. When my father found out…" she paused, her voice heavy with emotion. "They were brought to this place. I never saw them again."

Qezza's revelation left Anakin speechless, and as they parted ways, before he entered the slave quarters, she added, "Hey, I didn't mean to scare you or anything. I just… I guess… I know you must hate us. I just don't want you to suffer because of it. Goodnight."

With that, Qezza left Anakin to grapple with the weight of her words and the harrowing images they had witnessed.

As twilight descended, Anakin retired to the slave quarters with a heavy heart. The horrors he had witnessed that day laid bare the depths of his masters' cruelty, a revelation that gnawed at his soul. Yet, amid the anguish, a flicker of empathy ignited within him, coupled with an unprecedented hatred that eclipsed the anger he had long harbored.

Meanwhile, Qezza shattered his preconceived notions. No longer the timid girl he had anticipated, she displayed an unexpected maturity and honesty. She neither minced words nor concealed her opinions, except for in the presence of their despotic masters. Anakin marveled at her duality, sensing beneath her facade of docility a spirit that yearned for something more.

As slumber overtook him, Anakin's thoughts drifted to the hidden exit he had discovered. In the darkness of his dreams, he imagined the possibilities that lay beyond the walls that held him captive, his resolve fueled by a newfound determination to seize his freedom.

[294 AC - Meereen]

As he grows older, Anakin's desire to escape the pyramid of House Galare only intensifies, but with his every move being monitored, the idea remains a distant and seemingly unattainable dream.

Anakin was unable to form any meaningful relationships with his fellow slaves, due to their resentment towards his more favored position among the masters. Witnessing first-hand the mistreatment and torture they endured, he did not hold a grudge against them. He sympathized with their suffering and detested the heinous practice of slavery.

Exhausted and demoralized by the incessant abuse and degradation from the noble masters, Anakin, now 14, was convinced the time to escape was soon.

A year prior, he had caught the attention of Grazdan zo Galare, Grazhar's father. Despite only serving as a translator, Grazdan considered Anakin's presence near his wife inappropriate. Lady Zahrina had to persuade not her husband not to sell the boy, as she had grown rather fond of him.

As a result, Anakin was banished from the palace to toil alongside the laboring slaves. He was forced to partake in a variety of laborious activities, all of them back-breaking. The work in the fields was grueling, with long hours spent in the hot sun, supervised by overseers who were quick to use the whip. Tasks ranged from clearing land, mining, planting cane, and harvesting canes by hand, to manuring and weeding.

Inside the slave quarters, the conditions were often worse, especially the heat in the boiling rooms. Additionally, the hours were long, especially at harvest time.

The death rate as a slave in Meereen was high, a result of overwork, poor nutrition and work conditions, brutality and disease. Many slavers preferred to import new slaves rather than providing the means and conditions for the survival of the existing ones.

On a scorching afternoon, as the sun beat down relentlessly, a group of weary slaves, including Anakin, made their way to the sun-drenched courtyard after toiling relentlessly in the fields.

The Overseers harsh commands echoed through the barren space, where only a few dilapidated benches, the bleak slave quarters, and a grime-laden well broke the desolate expanse.

Seated alone on a bench, his hands throbbing with pain and exhaustion, he nursed his wounds when he caught the familiar figure of Qezza approaching. Despite her persistent attempts to visit him, their encounters had dwindled over the past two years.

As always, she brought him a humble loaf of bread, a meager sustenance that would barely sustain him through the arduous day that was coming to an end.

"Thank you," Anakin murmured as he consumed the bread in silence. Qezza, observing the blood on his palms, inquired about his new jobs. "Could be worse. Could be wiping your mother's ass," Anakin replied bluntly.

Qezza laughed a bit, "Yeah, that's no fun," she agreed, before noting, "The sun agrees with you. You used to be so pale," She placed a hand on his forehead and stroked his hair, revealing his violet eyes.

As Anakin finished chewing the last piece of bread, Qezza sat beside him, transfixed on his eyes. Anakin, his sandy hair tousled by the desert breeze, spoke earnestly to her about his desire to escape the confines of slavery. His eyes, with determination, locked onto hers as he outlined his daring plan.

"I can't stay here forever. I haven't seen my family in years. I don't even know what's become of them," he said, his voice tinged with urgency.

She listened intently, before responding, "it'll be dangerous." Anakin nodded in acknowledgement, placing his hand on hers, which rested on her thigh.

With time, Anakin recognized Qezza's steadfast support, eventually acknowledging her as his friend, a precious connection in the midst of his tumultuous life as a slave.

Qezza's expression softened, touched by Anakin's unwavering optimism. "And then what Ani? Where will you go?"

Anakin's gaze turned skyward, his thoughts racing beyond the confines of these walls. "Away. Anywhere but here," he replied resolutely.

Qezza smiled, the thought of aiding him crossing her mind. "We all have our callings. This city is my calling. My home. It's flaws and all," she said, her voice filled with remorse.

Anakin empathized with her sentiment. As a Meereenese native, her home held a profound bond for her, despite the cruelties it may hold. Anakin once shared a similar attachment to his home when Viserys captivated him with tales of Westeros and the Seven Kingdoms.

In Anakin's mind, he knew. Meereen was not his home, and never would be. It was a city of strange men with strange gods and stranger customs, of slavers wrapped in fringed tokars, where grace was earned through whoring, butchery was art, and dog was a delicacy. Meereen would always be the Harpy's city, and Anakin could not be a harpy. He was a dragon.

Beneath the setting desert sun, Anakin and Qezza lingered in hushed companionship, sensing the weight of an impending farewell. As Anakin gently suggested she return before darkness fell, she nodded and they arose.

Their moment was shattered by the intrusion of three burly slave men. "Fine piece of ass you got there," sneered the leader, Narjis, as he approached.

As enslaved laborers in the fields, few were intimately familiar with the faces of the masters within the pyramid. Concealing her identity, Qezza would don a beige robe to visit Anakin, wary of being recognized as a noble.

Anakin's eyes flashed with defiance. "She was just leaving," he stated resolutely.

Narjis's men, having witnessed Anakin's openly conversing with the overseers, harbored a longstanding animosity towards the Targaryen. Isolated from his fellow slaves, Anakin resorted to telling jokes to the overseers, sometimes eliciting laughter. His humor, though intended to amuse, unwittingly charmed his captors while infuriating his fellow slaves.

Narjis and others alike had placed themselves at the top of whatever hierarchy the slaves had built for themselves, welding whatever power they had to torment Anakin and various other slaves they deemed weak.

Anakin's empathy for the slaves' plight prevented him from provoking any conflicts, but Narjis relentlessly challenged the limits of his compassion.

As they taunted and jeered at Qezza, Anakin's anger surged as he instinctively placed himself in front of her. "Leave her alone," he barked, shoving the closest assailant.

Unfazed, Narjis' henchman glared at Qezza with contempt. "A pampered house-slave like you, is she? Look at those hands," Narjis asserted.

But Anakin refused to waver. "Go away," he demanded, his voice unwavering.

Suddenly, in a terrifying instant, a punch landed squarely on Anakin's face, throwing him off balance and to the ground. Meanwhile, another man seized Qezza, her cries drowned out by the brutality of the assault.

As Anakin struggled to regain his bearings, kicks rained down on him, each blow stoking the fires of fear and fury within him. He clenched his teeth against the pain, his heart pounding with a mixture of adrenaline and dread.

The three assailants, driven by aggression and a twisted sense of power, held Qezza captive as they continued their vicious assault on Anakin. His mind raced, calculating his options amidst the overwhelming onslaught.

Summoning every ounce of strength and resolve, Anakin fought to rise from the ground, his muscles protesting with each movement. With a fierce determination, he lunged forward, striking out at Narjis with a well-aimed blow to the face.

"Let her go!" Anakin's voice thundered, his gaze fixed on the ringleader, Narjis, whose malicious intent was unmistakable.

Narjis, unfazed by Anakin's defiance, reacted with savage ferocity. He charged forward, enveloping the much smaller Targaryen in a crushing bear hug that threatened to crush the life from him. Anakin's chest tightened with panic as he glanced toward Qezza, witnessing her helpless struggle against her captors.

The sight of Qezza's distress stirred the anger within Anakin. "What're you going to do now house-slave," Narjis taunted him. The word 'slave' ignited a spark within Anakin, and he snapped.

In a split-second decision born of desperation and a raw, unyielding need to protect his friend, Anakin's instincts took over. He bared his teeth, sinking them into Narjis's neck with savage determination.

Amidst the chaos, Anakin heard the guttural cries of pain and surprise that escaped Narjis's lips. A sickening crunch echoed as Anakin's bite deepened, followed by an abrupt silence as Narjis's hold broke.

As Anakin's teeth sank into Narjis's flesh, the resistance of tissue yielded beneath his relentless bite. The metallic warmth of blood flooded his mouth, an intense flavor minging with the urgency and adrenaline of the moment.

He spat out a mouthful of blood and distant gasps reached Anakin's ears as he witnessed the chilling sight of blood pooling from the wound, casting a surreal glow over the violent scene unfolding before him.

Watching Narjis collapse, desperately clutching the blood gushing from his neck, a pang of remorse washed over Anakin as he realized he hadn't thought his actions through, caught up in the heat of the moment. The horror etched upon Narjis's face as he reacted to the attack would forever be seared into Anakin's memory.

In that moment of violence and upheaval, his world had irrevocably shifted. He had crossed a line from which there was no return - a line drawn in blood, marking the beginning of a new and uncertain chapter in his life.

The remaining two assailants froze in stunned horror, their faces contorted with a mixture of fear and disbelief at the sudden turn of events. Anakin, with the lower half of his face smeared in blood and his chest heaving with exertion and adrenaline, stood amidst the chaos, his eyes blazing with a mixture of anger and regret.

Qezza, freed from her captors' grasp, stared at Anakin in shock, her features a mask of conflicting emotions.

Anakin's mind raced, grappling with the consequences of his actions, even as the weight of Narjis's death bore down upon him.

The two men, noticing their leader slowly bleeding to death and the sound of approaching horses in the courtyard, fled the scene.

After this action, Anakin halted to contemplate his actions. He had taken a life, a first for him. He had always grappled with the urge to kill, but never a fellow slave.

His wrath had always been aimed at nobles and slave owners. The fact that it was Narjis who met his end left Anakin reconsidering his morals, never imagining he could commit such an act. He acted impulsively, driven by emotion. The sight of Qezza in danger ignited a fierce anger within him.

His chest sank as he grasped the gravity of the situation. He had defended himself, but the repercussions would be severe. If a slave kills another slave, the punishment is typically death.

As the sound of approaching hooves echoed through the courtyard, the overseers were closing in. Anakin's mind raced. Without hesitation, he turned to Qezza, his eyes conveying urgency. "Go, get out of here!" he urged, pushing her away.

Qezza, despite her reluctance, saw the desperation in Anakin's eyes, seeking to distance her from the incident, and left him to face the consequences.

As the overseers arrived, their lanterns cast an eerie glow in the setting sun, revealing Narjis's lifeless body hidden under a bench.

They scanned the area, and one spotted Anakin running in the distance. "Hey!" They shouted, but it was too late as he vanished from sight, escaping through the small hole under the wall Qezza had shown him years ago.

Anakin, now faced with the prospect of death for his actions, felt he had no choice but to flee, albeit hastily, as he wouldn't have any other opportunity to do so now.

Racing through the night streets of Meereen, Anakin headed towards the harbors, hoping to stow away on a ship bound for the Free Cities. Knowing that he needed to be cautious to avoid being caught by the city authorities, Anakin carefully navigated through the dimly lit streets.

Despite the danger, he couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement and hope as he took control of his own fate. He didn't have a solid plan for his future, but anything was better than remaining in slavery.

After an arduous dash that spanned countless hours, the sight of the city docks emerged on the horizon, stirring hope within him. But his hopes were dashed when he heard a commotion behind him.

Anakin spun around to behold a group of overseers from House Galare talking with city guards. The realization struck that his escape had been discovered.

With every ounce of strength, he surged forward, desperately striving to escape the clutches of pursuers. However, at the docks, guards lay in wait, closing in around him. Their gaze fell upon Anakin's unmistakable hair, and any hope of eluding capture vanished. His heart pounded as dread filled him, bracing himself for the consequences that lay ahead.

Once locked in a carriage cage and brought before Grazdan zo Galare it would only be thanks to Grazhar's persuasion that Anakin was able to escape death that fateful night.

Unlike other slave masters and nobles in Meereen, both Grazhar and his sister, Qezza, displayed a rare compassion and refrained from cruel acts of violence. His father, on the other hand, was not as benevolent.

Over the coming days, Anakin remained confined in the scorching sun, trapped within the carriage stationed in the courtyard's center.

His bloodied face and attire only added to his disheveled appearance, teetering on the brink of dehydration and severe hunger. He was forced to endure frigid nights and sweltering days, locked within the outdoor cage.

The ordeal eventually concluded when, one night, the elderly slave master, Grazdan, and his son, Grazhar, paid him a visit.

The slave master raised a lantern near Anakin's bloodstained face, scrutinizing him with disdain. "Look at you. Disgusting. So, you like to kill, huh?," he snarled, his voice dripping with contempt. "Then that's what you'll do."

Beside Anakin, Grazhar pleaded fervently. "Father, please reconsider," he entreated, his voice tinged with desperation. "Anakin was just defending himself and Qezza as she said. Give him another chance."

The slave master's gaze turned frosty as he addressed his son. "You know nothing of discipline, son. He tried to escape," he replied coldly. "If the slave does not learn his lesson, he'll be of no use to anyone."

Remaining silent, Anakin's indifference to their discourse was eclipsed solely by his deep-seated animosity towards Grazdan. He comprehended the implicit meaning behind the old man's saying, 'that's what you'll do.'

At his age, Anakin is eligible to participate in the fighting pits of Meereen, a thought that was met with opposition from Grazhar. He urged his father to reconsider, stating that Anakin's inexperienced, would dishonor their family by meeting a quick demise in the pit.

Anakin consistently questioned Grazhar's affection for him and the other slaves. He merely presumed that the slave-trader was soft-hearted, possibly even weak.

Despite his efforts, all would be in vain, as Grazdan would prevail, forcing Anakin to fight in Meereen's notorious fighting pits. If he were to decline, the consequence would be death.

These fighting pits were deeply rooted in religion, with combat being a way to honor the gods of Ghis. Bravery, expertise, and physical prowess were highly valued amongst the spectators who celebrated and rewarded the victorious warriors. Those who fell in battle were remembered and their names enshrined on the Gates of Fate, alongside other celebrated heroes.

The pits were known not only as a place of honor, but also served as a brutal sentencing for criminals who faced potential execution for their crimes. For these individuals, the pits offered a final chance to prove their innocence through combat.

The night before his first battle, Anakin had been fed, washed, and moved into a cell in the dungeons of House Galare's pyramid, where he now finds himself unable to sleep, instead plagued by a vivid and harrowing nightmare. In this terrifying dream, he was consumed by fire and agony.

Upon waking, he discovered he was no longer confined to his cell and he cautiously made his way through a dim hallway. A bright blue light caught his attention and led him to a room with a bathhouse-like atmosphere.

Anakin's fear skyrocketed when he saw a transparent apparition with a sea-like hue before him. Despite his instinct to run, Anakin was inexplicably held in place, mesmerized by the figure's appearance. The apparition resembled an aged man with a beard.

"Anakin, it has been quite some time. I must say, you appear different with your white locks and violet eyes. Quite a transformation," remarked the spirit in a composed tone.

"Who are you? How do you know my name?" Anakin asked the figure.

"I go by the name of Obi-Wan Kenobi. But you may address me as Ben if you please. It's much simpler that way, wouldn't you agree?" it answers as Anakin nears. He lifts his arm in an effort to touch the apparition, but his hand simply goes right through it.

"Are you finished?" asked Obi-Wan, a touch of amusement present in his tone.

"What are you?" Anakin asked, still captivated by the specter.

Obi-Wan chuckled softly, remarking that although the Force may work in mysterious ways, his dear friend remains as curious as ever. Anakin's initial terror towards the ghostly figure began to dissipate.

Upon closer examination, Obi-Wan takes it upon himself to explain the fundamental aspects of his existence - a spectral entity imbued with Force powers, a non-corporeal manifestation of a departed individual still attuned to the living world.

"What's the force?" curiosity sparked within Anakin as he pondered why this particular word caught his attention among the rest.

"The Force is what gives a Jedi his power. It's an energy field created by all living things. It surrounds us and penetrates us. It binds the galaxy together, connecting all beings and objects. Through the force, we can sense the world around us and understand the connections between all living things," Obi-Wan explained to an awestruck Anakin, who is trying to absorb all of this information as best he can.

"Those who are strong in the force can tap into it and use it to enhance their physical and mental abilities. The force is made up of two sides, the light and the dark. The light represents peace, knowledge, and selflessness, while the dark represents fear, anger, and aggression. Now, tell me, are you prepared for what you may have to do?" With his curiosity heightened, Obi-Wan sought to uncover which side of the Force Anakin was more aligned with at the moment.

Anakin hesitated before confessing his inner conflict,"I… I never meant to kill Narjis. It's just… I hate the masters for making me do this."

"Hate is a strong emotion. It is important to find balance within ourselves and within the force. We must learn to control our emotions and not let them control us. As you continue to grow, you will improve, you will learn to channel and harness the powers of the Force. But always remember, the Force is a tool, and it is up to you to use it for good or for ill. May the Force be with you, my old friend. Use it wisely, for your fate may depend on it."

As he was about to search for more answers, the ghost slowly faded away. His parting words to Anakin were, 'we shall meet again.' The Targaryen's mind was overwhelmed with unanswered questions as the ghost's explanation left many things unresolved.

"I must be going mad," muttered Anakin, standing alone in an empty room with no one to hear him. He started doubting his own sanity as his thoughts seemed to deceive him.

Before he could process his surroundings, he heard a distinctive, labored breathing coming from the doorway. Despite his intuition telling him to stay away, Anakin was inexplicably drawn towards the noise as if it was calling out to him.

As he got closer, the breathing suddenly stopped, and he noticed two glowing lights - one green and one red coming from the dark entryway. Without warning, the rushed breathing returned, louder and more agitated than before, and a figure emerged from the darkness.

Cloaked in all black and wearing a menacing cape and mask, the individual had green and red lights emanating from their chest. Anakin's heart stopped as he saw the person ignite a fearsome red sword. He stumbled backwards in fear, unable to utter a word before being struck down by the fiery weapon.

Suddenly, Anakin woke up with a jolt, realizing he was still locked up in his cell. It had all been a vivid dream, but it felt all too real. Anakin gathered his thoughts and tried to make sense of what the dream could have meant.

The following day, as he arrived at the fighting pits, he realized his fears had been justified. Without delay, he was handed over by Grazdan and locked up with other slaves to await their fate.

Upon reaching the holding chambers, Anakin notes his lack of armor, compared to the other slaves and wonders if they had encountered these kinds of situations before or were prepared beforehand, unlike him.

He is not among the first to be summoned for battle, but as he hears the clash of swords, the cries of men, and the cheers of the people, he stands up to get a better view of the intense battles taking place in the arena.

With a sense of dread, he watches as men mercilessly slaughter each other for the amusement of the ruling elite.

As blood stains the sand, Anakin begins to feel lightheaded and his legs grow weak. 'Well, isn't this just perfect,' he sarcastically mutters to himself. Living most of his life in a sandy environment it is ironic that he despised it so much.

Anakin, with little experience in taking lives and only basic knowledge of sword fighting taught by Ser Willem approaches the display of weaponry designated for slaves before their entry into the pits.

He closes his eyes tightly and focuses on his breathing, trying to calm himself. As he inhales and exhales, he feels a pull towards a particular weapon, as if his instincts are guiding him.

Slowly, he reaches out, wrapping his fingers around the object and opens his eyes to reveal a traditional castle-forged steel sword in his hand. Its handle is coated in a sleek matte black finish, with a smooth round pommel and a simple crossguard, completing its simple appearance.

While grasping the sword, which is both lightweight and lengthy, he experiences a heightened level of perception and becomes more attuned to his environment. Anakin begins to mentally prepare himself for what is to come.

I am Anakin Targaryen, he said within himself. In his mind a dragon tried to whisper of failure, and weakness, and inevitable death, but with one hand he caught it, crushed away its voice; it tried to rise then, to coil and rear and strike, but Anakin laid his other hand upon it and broke its power with a single effortless twist. I am Anakin Targaryen, he repeated as he ground the dragon's corpse to dust beneath his mental heel, as he watched the dragon's dust and ashes scatter before the blast from his furnace heart, and you. You are nothing at all.

The moment of truth arrives as Anakin is summoned to stand among seven other fighters. The boisterous crowd, their bloodlust palpable, watches from the stands above, filling the air with the smell of violence.

Before the battle commences, a loud horn sounds, compelling the slaves to kneel and show 'respect' to the nobles in the center of the arena.

As the horn reverberates, Anakin surveys his surroundings, noticing that his fellow combatants are all immersed in their own battles.

Breaking from his reverie, he turns to his left and sees a rugged, middle-aged man with a bushy beard and lightweight armor approaching him with an ax. Though his instinct urges him to flee, Anakin remains frozen, transfixed by the man's slow-motion movements.

As the man bears down on him, Anakin raises his sword and expertly deflects the attack, causing the man to stumble. Holding his blade aloft, Anakin observes as the man regains his footing and turns back towards him, clearly surprised by his defensive prowess.

The man swings his weapon repeatedly, each time Anakin nimbly evades the blows until they are locked in a fierce clash of blades. As if it were second nature, Anakin spins his sword with a fluid flick of his wrist, severing the man's hand and sending him sprawling to the ground.

"Please! Wait! Wait!" The man begs, but Anakin stands over him menacingly. Pausing to hear him out, he quickly realizes the man is reaching for a small blade hidden in his pocket with his remaining hand.

Almost instinctively, he reacts and swings his sword in a precise arc, effortlessly slicing the man's face in half.

As Anakin faces yet another opponent - this time a male armed with a shield and spear, dressed in light armor and approaching aggressively - he is unable to process the moment.

The man thrusts his spear at Anakin, but he easily deflects it with his sword. However, his opponent remains undeterred and refocuses his attack.

Anakin struggles to close the distance between them, as the spear acts like a barrier between them. But when the opportunity arises, he grabs the spear and engages in a fierce struggle. Anakin's strength proves to be superior as he overpowers the man and sends the spear flying.

Determined to end the fight, Anakin steadily moves towards his opponent, who now brandishes his raised shield as a weapon. With determined aim, Anakin plunges his sword into the man's chest, causing them both to collapse on the ground. In his final moments, Anakin must face the man's dying gaze as he takes his last breath.

The Targaryen attempts to contemplate his recent actions, his mind consumed with a storm of confusion. But just as he begins to grapple with it all, he becomes aware of the solitary enemy remaining, who is riling up the crowd of spectators.

It dawned on Anakin that while the adversaries he has faced so far have been forced into battle, this individual appeared to have accepted his role all too willingly. And yet, despite the reluctance in his heart, Anakin understands that in order to ensure his own survival, he must eliminate this man, who has no more of a say in the matter than himself.

As the darkness envelops him, he prepares himself to face his final opponent; a lightly clad enemy wielding two swords. His mind is consumed with rage towards those who have oppressed him. Anakin meets his challenger in a fierce battle, taking a defensive stance as he skillfully fends off their attacks.

Eventually, he disarms his opponent and swiftly delivers a fatal blow, cleaving them in half, from shoulder down to rib, effectively splitting them into two pieces.

In awe of the lone survivor, the audience falls into a hushed silence. The sight of a mere boy emerging victorious caught everyone off guard. Despite the surprise, cheers reverberate through the arena, while Anakin's eyes meet those of Grazhar zo Galare and his father, both in awe of his unexpected triumph.

Without a doubt, Grazdan was content with his display, showing no hesitation to cheer for the boy. On the other hand, Grazhar was thoroughly surprised by Anakin's mastery of the sword, recognizing that he was much more skilled than previously believed.

Later, in the heart of House Galare's subterranean labyrinth, hours had passed when Anakin was approached in the dimly lit, smoke-filled dungeons.

Amidst the stone cells, Grazdan and Grazhar made their presence known, Grazdan's gaze shimmering with a mix of greed and false camaraderie. "My boy!" exclaimed Grazdan, his voice thick with wine-induced slurring. "You've outdone yourself tonight. The crowd loves you!"

Anakin rose from the icy depths of his cell and drew near the bars, his body still coursing with the adrenaline of battle. He anticipated the coming enticements - the promises that would inevitably follow.

Grazdan, known for his jovial demeanor when intoxicated, spoke with a breath pungent with alcohol. "Listen here. You keep winning for me, and I'll make sure you have everything you could desire. Wine, women, the finest accommodations - all yours."

Disgust and resignation painted Anakin's face as he listened. He recognized these promises as mere fleeting trinkets, designed to serve Grazdan's selfish interests. Despite a part of him yearning for a taste of the luxuries denied to him as a slave, his true desire was for freedom. Anakin's jaw tightens. He understands the price of this supposed freedom, the chains of servitude hidden beneath the guise of rewards. But the allure is undeniable - the prospect of some semblance of freedom was too great to turn down.

Anakin's gaze met Grazhar's, who implored him with a pleading look to accept his father's proposition.

With a hardened resolve, Anakin met Grazdan's gaze directly. Slowly, he nodded, his acquiescence tainted with defiance and regrets. A triumphant grin spread across Grazdan's face, his eyes alight with the prospect of fame and profits. Anakin plastered a forced smirk, concealing the turmoil within.

As they left him in the depths of the dungeon, the weight of his choice bears down upon him.

Over the next few months, continuing this pattern of fighting in the pits, Anakin's anger has turned to pure hatred and he is tempted to give in to vices such as wine, women, and luxurious accommodations offered to him. However, he remains steadfast in his beliefs and refuses to indulge in these temporary pleasures.

Despite the promise of comfort and a lavish lifestyle, Anakin's mind is set on one goal: to overthrow the Great Masters of Meereen and end slavery. He has discovered a newfound strength within himself and is determined to use it to fight for what he believes in.