My opponent shuddered under the blow of my sword, a strong young fighter, but before my might he looked so soft. His features were pinched and squished beneath his helm, and his shoulders were shrugged up high. He skittered back a few feet.
Whirling my blade overhead, I struck at him again and again, first from an angle, then from the side, then down toward the top of his head. He hung on, but only just, and he teetered on his back foot now. I pushed forward, thrust, left shoulder, right hip, right shoulder, thrust again. He was on his heels now, stumbling back and back and back, and he slammed straight into the stone wall.
I rushed forth and slashed at his wrist and scored one blow against him. I then continued my swing and batted him across his helm before planting a powerful kick to his gut. He collapsed to the dirt with a cough and a splutter. I whipped the tip of my blade to his throat.
Illyrio Mopatis clapped jovially from overhead, and he cheered my performance. A few of his servants followed suit, though them seemed less than enthused. The boy was one of their number after all, a talented fighter, too talented to remain a lowly manor guard. He was Unsullied, and easily the best of Illyrio's warriors despite his youth.
He did not raise his hands to yield.
"Good show, Your Grace" said Illyrio, and he clapped some more. "Expertly fought! Remarkable! Truly remarkable!"
I offered a hand to the Unsullied. He would not tell me his name, if he even had one. It was not in the culture of Unsullied to reveal such things, besides; he would not tell me his name anyhow. He glared up at me. Bested by a girl of fourteen? I could sympathize with his wounded pride, I suppose.
"Do come up to talk, Your Grace," said Illyrio. "I'd love to discuss the contest, provide a few tips, if I could. I was a well-regarded swordsman in my youth, you know!"
I did in fact know. I would have known even without my secret knowledge of the world of Ice and Fire. Illyrio rarely allowed a conversation to pass without mentioning his glory days. I sighed and did not bother offering my hand to the Unsullied. He would not take it. I'd tried on numerous occasions before with no success.
I removed my helm and tossed it to the armorer, and I ran my fingers along my single plait braid. I returned the bastard sword to him by hand. Throwing swords was unwise, and I also wasn't willing to pay for damaged goods should something go awry – goods here including the servant who served as Illyrio's armorer. We hadn't the money to afford damages.
The armorer helped me with the straps of my breastplate, literally in my case – or becoming literally, though I did not suspect mine would grow particularly large. The greaves and bracers followed, and soon I was on my way up to Illyrio's balcony. I couldn't disappoint our host, especially not before the big event he had planned.
The marriage between Daenerys and Khal Drogo was set to go ahead. My fortunate position required me to do very little to assist Daenerys in her rise to queendom. In terms of canon events, her time with the Dothraki Kahlasar, while heartbreaking, built her strength and formed her into the leader she had to be. The old cliché "character building" applied in this instance, and it left me with an uncertain future.
Being the younger twin by only six minutes, I stood to inherit nothing if and when Viserys died. Daenerys would be the heir to House Targaryen and rightful queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Theoretically, Viserys could have chosen me as the one to marry to Drogo, but Illyrio had cautioned him against this, citing my inferior looks when compared with my sister. The Khal would be most displeased if, at his wedding, he received the uglier of the Targaryen twins as his bride, while the ethereal Daenerys was held ever out of his reach.
What I was to do then was rather a mystery to me.
I entered Illyrio's garden overlook and was greeted by a servant offering me a towel and a black silken dress.
"The Magister requests you change, Your Grace," said the girl, blonde of hair and eyes of blue.
"Very well," I said and took the proffered items.
"He requests also that you apply a perfume to clear the stench of sweat."
"Far be it from me to refuse his request," I smiled and winked. "I assume the offer of perfumes is immense."
The girl blushed and turned her head. She liked me, I think. She was bought exclusively to provide Viserys with pleasure of the sexual sort, but Illyrio had taken a liking to her otherwise. She was pretty, with a gracious curve to her posture and a gentle smile and an innocent gaze. I wished I knew her name, but I couldn't keep Illyrio waiting long.
She showed me behind a wooden shade where I could receive a bit of privacy, and she looked to her bare feet.
"Would you prefer if I assist you?" she asked. "The Magister tells me I have good taste in perfume."
She looked so eager before me that I could not refuse, and I had to admit that I was somewhat eager myself. The Lyseni was a rare beauty, no doubt the result of careful breeding by her master to produce just the sort of traits he desired, as was the custom in Lys.
"I know nothing of perfumes," I said and gestured for her to join me. "So, please."
She hurried forth and began helping me with my tunic and pants. Her warm fingers brushed against the skin of my neck as she unwound the strings of the tunic, and she helped me pull it over my head. She stood on her tiptoes, reaching as high as she could to extricate the cloth from my neck. Then I stood with my breasts bared.
"What is your name?" I asked while she folded the tunic.
"Sir-," she started, then stumbled over her words when she looked back at me. Her eyes traced down from my neck and rested for a moment. She blushed.
"Sirina," she said then cleared her throat.
I smiled and she worked on my pants. Her hair trickled in little ringlets over her shoulder as she bent down. It tickled the skin of my stomach ever so slightly.
"Sirina," I said. "Your name is beautiful. Sirina."
I could feel the heat of her cheeks as she worked. With my eyes I traced the elegant swoop of her neck down to her back and her semi-translucent white robe. I fidgeted slightly, shaking one foot then the other. A little stiffness from the fight pierced my calf. Sirina swayed back, fumbling the strings at my movement.
"Apologies," I said. "Just a little sore is all."
"Of course, Your Grace," said Sirina. "Your swordsmanship is spectacular. Fancy that."
"I prefer to think of myself as a warrior princess."
Sirina laughed. It sounded like the tinkling of wind chimes.
"The title suits you, Your Grace," she said.
"Ah," I said. "My namesake."
"You remind me of Queen Visenya," said Sirina. "A fierce warrior, wise and independent, and a harsh beauty."
"Has Viserys been telling you stories?"
"Some. He thinks it's funny how alike the two of you are."
"Visenya and I?"
She at last got my pants untied, and I lifted one leg then the other as she pulled down. Sirina stood straight again, and she seemed in a state of permanent blush, eyes focused low.
"You're beautiful," she said. "I've always heard Targaryens were beautiful. You and your sister prove the rumors to be sure."
"My brother doesn't think so."
"Doesn't think you're beautiful?"
"He much prefers Daenerys," I said. "It's why he's marrying her to the Khal. She's the beauty of the two of us."
"No," said Sirina. "Your Grace, he thinks differently. He told me he once intended to marry you both, and to conquer Westeros with his sister-wives just like Aegon."
I hummed while Sirina picked up my dress and showcased it to me. When I'd been reborn as only a babe, it had been my plan to sway Viserys, to affect his personality as best I could. While sister-wives in particular hadn't crossed my mind, it wouldn't have been so bad. Yet, I'd failed at that task, and whatever madness resided in my brother's heart was too deeply set for me to change.
Sirina showed me the dress in full. It sparkled with a gold threaded dragon slithering up the right side under the sleeve, its head reaching up to the right breast. The dress probably cost a fortune, and it was definitely custom made. Illyrio was likely gifting me this because he liked me. I know he had once contemplated having Viserys killed and marrying Daenerys. Now I was here, he might have seen an opportunity to wed a Targaryen.
"Speaking of my brother," I said. "Is he treating you well?"
She set the dress aside a moment and walked behind me.
"Would you like it if I undid your braid, Your Grace?" Sirina asked.
She started releasing the hair of her own accord, then she went and grabbed a brush and went to work tidying my hair. Mine did not shine like Dany's silvery tone. It was whiter, like soft snow.
"If he's mistreating you, I'll get him to back off," I said. "I know how he is. Overbearing, inconsiderate."
"May I please just do your hair, Your Grace?"
"It sounds like he might be giving you trouble."
"Your Grace," said Sirina. "I cannot speak of this. If the Magister receives any hint that I might be even slightly disobedient, I'll be punished."
"So Viserys is giving you trouble."
"Please," said Sirina, and she rested a hand on my shoulder and looked up to meet my eyes. "Your Grace."
I sighed, and Sirina went back to fixing my hair. It was sad, a pretty young girl like her, and she was forced to please a fat middle aged man with appalling oral hygiene and my brother. Her knuckles ghosted across my spine as she worked the brush, and I wondered whether she might have been doing it on purpose. It happened so regularly.
"Come," said Sirina. "Let's get you dressed. I've other duties to attend to."
She helped me into the dress, and then she selected a perfume for me, applying it expertly. I caught her by the wrist as she prepared to leave. We locked eyes for a moment.
"If he hurts you," I said. "Come get me, and I'll make it stop. I promise."
Sirina caught my hand and gave it a squeeze. The life of a whore, I shook my head.
"But," I smiled. "I'd love to see you again, Sirina. You should come by my apartment some time."
I winked at her again, and I exited onto the balcony with Sirina trailing just behind.
"Ah!" said Illyrio. "Your Grace, so good of you to finally join us."
I saw he meant "us," as he was joined by Viserys who was sipping wine from a fine silver cup while a dark-haired girl massaged his shoulders. He opened one eye to look at me.
"Hello sister," he said. "I hear you've been embarrassing our host's best men again."
"And bringing me great pleasure in seeing it," said Illyrio. "I don't suppose I could hire you as my personal bodyguard?"
I ate dinner alone with Daenerys, no Illyrio, no Viserys. Illyrio enjoyed my company, but he sought to butter Viserys up as much as he could prior to his departure. He could've done it in our presence, but I'd intervened on behalf of Daenerys, convincing the men she needed a night to herself before the wedding. Illyrio had been happy to oblige my request. He did not care for Dany particularly. Her meekness could be grating.
"If I'm fortunate, it won't be long before we cross back to Westeros with the Dothraki," said Daenerys. "That's what Viserys says."
"You're putting a lot of faith in him," I said. "More than he deserves. You think they won't just go their own way, do whatever Dothraki do – rape, pillage, set towns ablaze – when they aren't marrying Targaryens. Viserys won't be able to control the Khal, or any of them for that matter."
Daenerys frowned. She took a small sip of her wine.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I shouldn't put thoughts in your head. I just worry for you, that's all."
She stared at me with those brilliant violet eyes just beneath those perfectly arched brows. Her hair glistened under the lamplight, sparkling like diamond threads, and her skin was like soft white cream.
Despite being twins, we looked very little alike. She was short – five-four or so; I was tall – six feet already. Her face was round and features welcoming; my face angular and features austere. Her skin was warm; my skin was pallid. Her eyes were deep in their color; my eyes were pale, somewhere between red and pink and purple. Her curves were soft; mine were hard. She was like flowing water; I was like tempered steel. One of few features we did hold in common was our smaller than average breasts, and we both bore the upturned Valyrian nose.
"Will it hurt, do you think?" Daenerys asked.
I knew what she meant.
"Couldn't say," I said. "Just try to relax. I've heard that works wonders."
"Relax," Dany mumbled.
She looked down to her food, and she placed her head in her hands and sighed. I sipped my wine. She wouldn't cry now. I knew she wouldn't, not yet. We hadn't built our conversation to that point yet.
"Look on the bright side," I said, reaching out to her shoulder. "At least you'll receive some excellent gifts tomorrow."
"I don't want gifts," said Dany. "I just… I don't know."
I just wanted to hold her close, to clasp her to my breast and tell her everything would be all right. I loved my sister. Yet, the moment I did, I knew the tears would start to flow, and I had to hold myself back because she needed to gain confidence of her own accord. There was no other way for her to build her worth as a ruler. I could not treat her as I would treat a little child, no matter how much I wanted to hold her tight.
"Dany," I said. "Stay strong. Don't let anyone hurt you. Remember, you are a dragon. Who are you meeting? Who are you marrying? Some little horse lords? Little horse vagabonds more like. They can't touch you."
I reached to her face and caressed her cheek and brushed a strand of hair from over her eye. She looked up at me.
"They can't measure up," I said. "No one can, no matter how hard they may try. They may beat you down, dirty you, bloody you, bruise you, but you are a Targaryen. You have the dragon's blood flowing through your veins, and what are they but some little men on prancing ponies?"
Dany smiled and rubbed her eyes.
"You should be queen, Visenya," she said. "A speech like that?"
I waved my hand and finished the last bite on my plate.
"You've the name for it," Dany said.
"I'm not so certain," I said. "Far be it from me to speak ill of our ancestor, but I don't think she'd have made a very good ruler."
"But she was a great warrior. Everyone we meet posits that you might be the reincarnation of the warrior queen herself. Who am I called? Naerys."
"You think it's bad to be compared to the most beautiful woman in recent history?"
"It's not nearly as queen worthy as being likened to Visenya, legendary conqueror, sister-wife to Aegon the Conqueror."
"Not as legendary, perhaps," I said. "But queen worthy is a different matter. I'm only trying to help, because we both know our brother would make a very poor king, and you're next in line to the throne."
"What are you saying?"
I shook my head and held up my hands. Dany bore an inscrutable expression upon her face. Her lips were pursed.
"Nothing like what you're thinking," I said.
Dany would not finish her dinner, and she stood and looked out the window over the garden. I joined her and rested against the balcony. I wondered whether it was her marriage she was contemplating, or her feeling of inferiority when compared to me. Soon enough, that feeling would be gone all on its own. She would be Mother of Dragons, and I would just be the girl with the sword.
"Do you think the Dothraki will join Viserys to reclaim Westeros?" asked Dany.
"I think it unlikely."
"What will we do then?" she asked and turned to face me.
She looked up, and her eyes looked even bigger due to the difference in height. The adoration in her gaze, I lingered in it a moment, perhaps longer than I should have. She was a vision, and I had to cast aside my thoughts about her. Such things would not be appropriate, not for a time, maybe not ever.
"I'm sure you'll think of something, Dany," I said. "You'll be the wife of the Khal. That's got to count for something in a Khalasar, doesn't it?"
"I suppose it does," said Dany. "Thank you for coming tonight. It's been good to just talk, like two sisters should."
"It has, but you should get some rest, Dany," I said. "Tomorrow is going to be a long day."
My eyes lingered over a tome on the Lord of Light. I wasn't really reading, as focusing proved a challenge while my mind swirled. Soon, I would be calm again, so long as my request was met, which I expected it to be. There were advantages to having servants, I had to admit.
With Dany's marriage tomorrow, we would soon be off, venturing about with the Khalasar. Though, for myself, it seemed an awful waste of time to travel about with them. For Dany, her time with the Khalasar was important, formative. She would gain experience in a leadership role and gain confidence, and she would pry herself free of Viserys's tyranny. Yet, from a purely material perspective, there was no benefit to travelling with her. I would be tied down, unable to advance our cause whilst cavorting with smelly horsemen and trying not to get raped.
No, the Khalasar was not the place to begin my preparations for the invasion of Westeros or for the Long Night. There were other engagements which would provide me with a superior advantage. I could spend my time gathering allies, or honing my skills as a warrior, or even attempting to make a bit of money. Also, I could spend my time trying to learn about magic.
Magic existed in my new world; I only had to find a way to access it. The supernatural seemed the appropriate place to start my research, and I had read on a number of religions and esoteric philosophies which existed across the world of Ice and Fire. Though, from what I remembered from the books and from the show, the truest of all these faiths and myths seemed to be the Red Faith. Red Priests truly performed magic spells, not cheap tricks, and they truly prophesied. I knew as well that the Asshai'i practiced forms of magic.
To disregard such tools was foolish, so I planned to take advantage of them. I was left only with the question: how do I access these tools?
Regardless, the opportune path before me was clear. I should leave Dany and Viserys to journey with the Khalasar and venture forth alone to gather new knowledge of magic and prophesy, along with anything else that would help. Then, using my knowledge of the timeline, I could predict where Daenerys's location and travel to her when I could become useful again. Perhaps I could meet her in Qarth, or in Meereen. Either would be acceptable.
There was a Red Temple here in Pentos, a good place to begin my quest perhaps. Thus, I sought to learn what I could of R'hollor before I began my investigations into the priests. I'd always been good at scholarship in my previous life, philosophy, history, etc. My talents carried to theology, it seemed, but I was no closer to learning about the magic of the Red Priests.
I heard a knock at the door.
"Enter," I said and looked up.
The door creaked open to reveal Sirina. She still wore the white shrift from earlier in the day, and her hands were clasped before her.
"You sent for me, Your Grace?" said Sirina.
I pushed the book aside and leaned back in my chair. Sirina fidgeted from one foot to the other.
"Did you need something?" she asked. "Help in choosing a dress for the wedding tomorrow, perhaps?"
"No," I smiled. "I thought it best to keep you from my brother's clutches for tonight."
Sirina stood still, and she stared at me in awe. Then she smiled too.
"Thank you," she said, bowing her head slightly. "You are very kind, Your Grace."
"So he was hurting you then," I said. "Why didn't you tell me before?"
"I couldn't," Sirina stepped forth and stood awkwardly in front of me. "The Magister… If he found out…"
I stood and embraced her, and Sirina leaned up against my breast, her face pressing pleasantly against me. She breathed deep in and out like she was trying not to cry. I hushed her and gently stroked her hair.
"You don't need to worry anymore," I said. "I'm here. I've got you."
"He didn't hit me," she gushed, and she started wheezing her words in between sobs. "Not often anyway. Just the occasional twist of the wrist or yank of the hair. But his words, they cut like swords. He was so cruel, calling me this and that, degrading me. I'd try to be kind, try to please him, but it was never enough for His Grace. He'd slap me, spit on me. I felt vile, hated, and every word he speaks gives me the urge to retch."
"I'm sorry," I hugged her tighter.
"I know I'm a whore," Sirina said. "But I'm still a person. He treated me like dirt, like shit on his boots."
She cried.
"It's all right," I said and guided her to sit on the bed while I held her.
Soon, her tears had run dry, and my night cloak was soaked in them. Sirina sniffed and wiped her eyes.
"I'm so sorry, Your Grace," she said. "I forgot myself a moment. I shouldn't have burdened you with this."
"No need for apologies, Sirina," I brushed the hair from her face as she looked up at me. "I'm happy to unburden you."
"That's… You're too kind, Your Grace," she said. "Is there any way I can repay you?"
I shook my head, but her fingers crept up my shoulder, and her nose and lips brushed along my sleeve. Was her reaction instinctual? Did she seek to repay a debt the only way she knew how?
"I could," her breath warmed my skin, and I shivered. "Fuck… If you like…"
Her hands were at my neck now, and her touch against my bare skin was electric. Blonde hair trickled over my breasts as her lips planted a kiss on my shoulder. Fingers laced through my hair, and Sirina's hands were travelling down again to feel the strength of my back. She kissed my collarbone twice, getting closer and closer to my neck.
"No," I said and shrugged her away. "There is no need for repayment, Sirina. You're not in my debt. I did what I did because I wanted to, and for no other reason besides. My action was its own reward."
"Are you sure?" her hands still stroked up and down my arm. "I saw the way you looked at me today. I know you want me."
"Not tonight, Sirina."
She stopped and looked up, and she grasped my hand tightly. Her dainty fingers wrapped around my palm, her thumbs drawing circles into my skin idly.
"Am I not pleasing to you, Your Grace?"
"Sirina," I said. "Tonight is yours. Do as you wish, but do not act to please me. All I request is that you stay the night in my bed, not to fuck, only to sleep. I just want you to be safe, to be free of worries for at least one eave. No commands, no responsibilities, no harsh words, just peace and quiet. We may talk, if you wish, about anything you want."
"Your Grace," said Sirina.
I placed a kiss to her forehead, cupping her cheeks between my hands, and I met her eyes for a brief period. Then, I went back to my desk and my book, and Sirina laid down on the sheets and stared quietly at the ceiling. Tomorrow, when she was calmer – when her mind was more tranquil and rational – I could fuck Sirina. Lord knows I wanted to just now, but I considered myself a good woman, the sort that wouldn't take advantage of a vulnerable girl throwing herself upon me. Tomorrow, I would also begin my investigation into the existence of the Lord of Light.
Eventually, when research became impossible and my eyelids began to droop, I joined Sirina in my bed. She had not fallen asleep, and still she stared at the ceiling. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her to me, my breasts against her back. I held her hand, and together we fell asleep.
