A/N: Big news. After nine moons, Littleclaw has been welcomed into the world, a healthy baby boy :D

Chapter 29: Sold

Laying on her belly, Sansa's face contorted into several variations of a beaming smile as she giggled through each of them. "Aren't you a sweet little princess?"

Across from her, Lady had sprawled out in the same position. Back legs splayed out while she rested her head and snout on her front paws. Reaching forward, Sansa cupped the direwolf's snout which drew Lady's head up. Posed as if an old Ghiscari sphinx. Gods, it was adorable.

"You are a cutie pie, yes you are." Sansa made kissy noises with her lips, caressing Lady's sout as her yellow eyes locked with Sansa's grays. "Aren't you? Aren't you?"

The wolf made no sound, just swiped over her nose and by extension Sansa's fingers with her tongue. Once, twice… soon the maiden of House Stark was on her back while the now standing Lady lavished her face with licks.

Sansa giggled and sputtered, but Lady didn't cease her assaults. "Girl… heel… enough…" Still nothing that could budge the direwolf, so Sansa took matters into her own hands. Reaching out, she grabbed Lady by the side and flipped her. It wasn't easy, for the wolf hadn't stopped growing since but a pup but the determined Stark got it done. "Boot is on the other foot now, huh?" She tickled Lady's belly, the direwolf's legs thrashing and spine writhing around. Her maw was open, tongue hanging out.

They made an adorable sight, no doubt.

Plopping on her back yet again, Sansa wiped the slobber off her face as Lady still rested, legs high in the air and back curved. Her eyes gazed at Sansa, yellow irises pushed back as a large black void simply met her own gaze. "Oh, Lady, stop looking at me like that." The direwolf had that effect… to tell the truth, the dragons also had the effect. Sansa had observed Dany and Jon quite intently back at Winterfell, memorizing all of their interactions with Syrax and Valyrax. Truly the Stark maiden was jealous of them, dragonriders both.

That wasn't the sole feelings she held for her Targaryen kin.

"Oh, Lady, what am I to do?" The direwolf couldn't talk back, but the furry dear made for a great listener. "Dany knows I love Jon, as does she… and what's not to love?" Her best friend, growing into a handsome young man as his masculine features began to crop up. "But… I love Jon, but I… I think I love her too." Like her Aunt Lya. "What am I to do?"

Covering her face with her hands, mood starting to come down from its euphoric high to a more melancholic haze, Sansa was suddenly greeted with a nudge against her side. It was Lady, rolled back over on her legs and nudging Sansa with her snout. A mewl left the wolf's maw.

"What's wrong, girl?"

Lady simply whined, now beginning to paw at Sansa. It was gentle, as the direwolf's claws were just beginning to grow sharp and she needed to be careful, but the whines added to an intensity about them.

Sansa sat up, only for the wolf to plop her head in Sansa's lap. "Girl, you're acting strange…" But then the wolf stared into Sansa's eyes and the maiden felt a twinge in her head. A sudden but soft ache. "Gods, I hope I don't get another heat headache…"

But it wasn't. Her body jerked, eyes flickering. Sansa's mouth dropped open as white lids glossed over her eyes and she was propelled into a world she was now a bit familiar with.

Soft… very soft. Gaze looked up, seeing her muna simply sitting there. 'Muna… muna, what's wrong…?'

Sansa gasped, only it came out as a bark. 'I'm in Lady again!' But suddenly it changed.

Tail brushing on the floor, a flood of flavor - very rich flavor - exploded on her tongue. "There you go, girl," she heard Dany say, handing her a scrap of roast chicken… 'I'm Moonlight?!' But as she licked her maw of whatever juices were there, her eyes found Dany. Silver-hair pulled up into a braid. Gods, she looked pretty that day. There was no more beautiful person in the world than Daenerys.

"Right this way, Master Kraznys." Sansa - or Moonlight rather - shifted her head. Ears up as Mistress Caelia brought a strange man into the tavern. Guiding him deeper into the building. "We have many fine ladies to tickle your fancy…"

"Someone young," came the reply, the man wearing a mix of blue and gold in flowing robes, nose practically a hook. He had a heavy Ghiscari accent. "And there is more." His gaze was centered on another, a young woman carrying a tray up the stairs towards the guest chambers. Sansa felt a growl deep in her throat, one that felt like Moonlight.

She felt the distrust at the new arrival in the direwolf… and couldn't help but agree. Then a soft hand ruffled Moonlight's fur. "I don't like him either, girl," Sansa heard Dany say.

Oh, how she wished Dany would stroke her hair like that…

In an instant her eyes returned to normal and Sansa gasped out a breath. Reaching down to still her heart as always when she came out of a warging spell. "Gods… what just happened?" Below, Lady snuggled into her. "Were you trying to show me something, girl?" The wolf licked her nose, making Sansa snort. "A prissy princess, but not as smart as you think you are."

A knock on the door drew her attention. "Lady Alayne." The door opened to reveal Missandei, always a welcome face. "Your lemon cakes."

Sansa smiled. "I hate that I'm using up all your stores of lemons." The yellow delicacy made her stomach rumble just looking at them.

"Forgive us, my Lady, for causing you guilt… but lemons are plenty here. We get them cheaply." Missandei set the tray down. "Will that be all?"

"Please, Missy, no need to be so formal."

The slave girl hesitated, neck bobbing under her collar, before she nodded. "Very well… Alayne." While Sansa would've preferred to be referred to by her true name, this was a good step for Missy, who ended up meeting her smile with one of her own. "Is there anything else? Or would my companionship be all you require?"

Thinking, Sansa cleared her throat. "Just one thing… who was that man that just showed up? With the beaky nose?"

Missy's face clouded over. "That's Kraznys mo Nakloz. From Astapor."

"Astapor?"

"Aye… the Good Masters of Astapor. Prolific slavers." That explained her fear. "He speaks a horrible Common Tongue and High Valyrian, but Mistress Caelia wished me not there, instead to speak with him privately."

Whatever that meant, it wasn't good. "On second thought, Missandei, I would like your company for the day." The look of relief on the slave girl's face was worth it.

"Why are we here?" The bustling harbor of Lys loomed large in the distance, a way's walk away from the small peninsula that jutted into the ocean around them. It was deserted, but Daenerys felt that solitude was the point on Shienna's part. Better no one see them, but why by the ocean? "Are we here for the tranquility?"

Shienna sat quietly, her legs crossed and eyes closed. "No," she replied in a nonchalant tone. "We're here just in case you catch fire. Then you can jump into the water."

Dany opened her mouth to speak… but her words died. It was rather practical and simple a reason. "Fine." She crossed her arm, having expected something more philosophical or magical. Then her eyes widened. "Wait, will I catch fire?"

"If you're somewhat skilled, a possibility. If a prodigy, then no."

A gulp. "I'm not afraid," she managed to say, and partly believed her own words.

Opening her eyes, Shienna smiled. "It is alright to be afraid… I was when my parents taught me." She sighed, stretching her muscles. "The creation of fire is not a natural reaction as it is with the dragons… nor is it simply about the guidance of the flames. There is no idle action. I cannot simply snap my fingers and allow a flame to be lit as one would with a flint. Do you understand?"

"I… I think so?" What had Daenerys gotten herself into? Suddenly the swordsplay lessons that had left her slim and toned seemed… not nearly good enough for what she would need now.

"Do not be nervous, that is detrimental." Shienna took a deep breath, inhaling and then exhaling. "Just close your eyes and allow yourself to breathe. Imagine your body as a forge and your lungs as the air pressed into it." An apt analogy as Daenerys complied, closing her eyes. Letting the tension roll out of her body like a wave.

Her lungs inflated and then deflated, the gentle evening breeze off the ocean pleasant and calming. Dryer than King's Landing, Lys held little of the fetid humidity of her home and it truly felt comfortable and relaxing. I must ask muna and Rhaegar to bring us here… or at the very least Dorne. A relaxing beach vacation, her and Jon and Sansa frolicing in the sand and in the surf.

Mmmm… Jon… But her mind, drifting aimlessly along as each breath seemed to leave her more limp and boneless, thought not only of Jon shirtless, muscles flexing in the ocean as he swam. But of red hair wet and cascading across a pale back. Grey eyes twinkled and a bright smile shone on Sansa's face pictured in her mind, and for once Dany felt a tingle at it. The same one she received whenever she hugged her nephew.

Something that plagued her ever since she bore witness to the three people in the brothel, watching them with rapt attention…

"Larra."

Dany blinked her eyes open, almost jumping from her cross-legged position as Shienna clapped her hands. "Have you calmed yourself?"

Aside from the wandering thoughts… "Aye, I have." Not a lie, for the calmness had brought on the wandering thoughts.

Shienna nodded. "Ah, good then." Pressing her hands together, the Valyrian noblewoman stretched them till her knuckles popped. "As I said, the art of conjuring fire requires the greatest of internal strength. Both that of mental fortitude, physical stamina, and self-harmony."

"I have all of those!"

"Do you?" She chuckled. "I sense much fire in you, little one. A Valyrian trait, no doubt, but one which uncontrolled can lead to destruction." Eyes closing, Shienna began to move her arms as if pushing or lifting something heavy. A vein pulsed in her temple and her face twitched, sweat starting to run down her forehead and nose… until twin orange-yellow flames emerged from her.

"Whoa…" Dany gazed at the flames, violet eyes sparkling as she fell entranced.

The noblewoman began moving her arms in the same dance as when Dany first found her, though the dramatic flourishes became something more sensual and slow. "The Valyrians of old, the gods favored them with a sense of magic and belonging to a harsh nature that spewed fire and storms and toxic gasses that would make most life inhospitable. Only the hardiest could work at the secret fertility of the region… and tame the dragons and fires."

Hearing the secrets of her people only made Dany simper with glee. If only muna and Lady Shienna could talk… oh, and uncle Aemon too. It would happen if Dany had anything to say about it.

"The dragonriders had the easiest time of it, forging a bond with a sentient being they could communicate with and turn into a child or sibling." Exactly what I have with Syrax. Dany missed her dearly. "But those of the fire magic, to tame the Fourteen Flames themselves, we had to make a bond with our own internal core."

Dany blinked. "What?"

"Ah, confusing no?" Shienna giggled. "That was Althor's reaction as well as mine." She flicked her fingers a bit and suddenly the tongue of flame that traced along her shoulder turned pitch black. "The fire in your soul is a living being, almost like a dragon to a dragonrider. Only there is no communication but through you. You must be mindful of it, for it lives, and not as a slave."

"A dragon is not a slave," Dany spoke in High Valyrian exactly as her muna told her.

"The Targaryens used to say that a lot… they were always purists on the issue back in Old Valyria, even as the other dragonlords grew arrogant." A sigh, as Shienna extinguished the flames. "They grew arrogant too, which led to the dragons going into hibernation till King Rhaegar. House Aekylosh's poverty kept us humble, and our fires strong." She gestured to Dany. "You must keep your fire strong and your soul humble if you would hope at all to control it."

"Alright." Dany bobbed her head in agreement. "May I try now?"

"Not sure, are you ready?"

"I… I think so…" She didn't feel as confident as before. "How do I feel it in me?"

A smile. "My muna once told me that dragons are fire made flesh, but magical fire is your spirit given a physical manifestation. It is an embodiment of everything you are and feel." She closed her eyes and suddenly the tips of her fingers began to glow. "If you are true to yourself and the desires of your heart then it is strong and bright. If you are the opposite then they grow weak and burn you for the betrayal you commit to yourself."

"I… I don't know if I'm ready then."

Shienna chuckled. "Perhaps you should try asking the fire within if it is ready to emerge."

Taking another deep breath, Dany thought of what Shienna said. "Inner fire," she murmured. "Inner fire." If it was much like her bond with Syrax… she could start with that. Come out, inner fire… come out… It must've felt quite childish, but this was not something Daenerys was used to. Dragons were one thing as Shienna said, but within herself…

The times it had come out, she was cold. She was threatened. Both were out of necessity, so Daenerys plunged into those feelings. Had she willed it, or did something dormant inside her emerge to protect her…

A heat spread on her fingertips.

Dany's eyes flew open, gazing at her palms. "I… I felt something."

"On your hands?"

"Aye, heat."

"Stoke the flame, draw it out - clearly it wants to emerge from its slumber."

Again did Dany breath. Deeply, in and out. The heat returned, first as a tingle and then seeming to capture all her fingers. She let herself think. She let herself beckon for it to come forth. Fire, come to me. Show yourself… I am your wielder, your bonded one.

Aye. Not the powerful voice of Syrax or a feeling like with Moonlight, but she heard the whispered word just as a red flame flickered to life upon her palm. "Kessa!" Dany beamed. Across from her, Shienna beamed just as widely.

Sliding the sheaf of paper to the side, Tyrion pursed his lips. "Lord Baelish?"

The man seated across from the Master of Coin with the table betwixt them smiled. "Yes, Lord Tyrion?"

"Some of these expenses are… extravagant in nature…"

"Nothing but the best for the comfort of the King and Queens, my Lord," Petyr Baelish replied, that smile not faltering. "Given the many Lords and Ladies that arrived in the capital as the guests of the Iron Throne, it was necessary to add more to the food and drink monies."

"That I understand, even though some purchases should've been haggled better. Casterly Rock pays far less, and the journey from it to the Lannisport docks is less than the journey from the Red Keep to the docks of King's Landing." If helping his cousin Devan manage his father's keep had taught him anything, it was that the longer a trek by cart, the more expensive it was. "But that isn't the expense report of yours that concerns me."

Blinking, Baelish shifted forward. "These expenses were approved by Lord Blackwood."

"They are continuing payments… some in regards to a large house on Dragonstone and the other to a manse overlooking the ocean near Rhaenys' Hill?"

"Oh, that." Littlefinger chuckled. "Those were at the request of Prince Viserys."

"Prince Viserys?" That was certainly a surprise - while he had a standing seat on the Small Council as a councilor without portfolio, the Prince barely attended. Mostly he spent time fighting in tourneys and making progresses round the Kingdom if a Targaryen was needed to appear somewhere via dragon. "What does he need this amount of coin for?"

"He swore me to secrecy, my Lord…"

Tyrion rolled his eyes. "You are my deputy, Baelish, so you will tell me."

A nod. "There are… two ladies that the Prince sees fit to… fund. Them and their children."

If anyone could understand that, it was Tyrion. "Oh." He winced. "Well, I will still need to visit these… ladies in order to make sure the coin spent is needed and not superfluous. I will need their locations."

Baelish smiled. "I will see them to you. Is that all?'

Tyrion waved him off. "Aye, you may go. Podrick!" The young lad opened the door. "See Lord Baelish out." When the man departed, Tyrion sighed. "They say he's a magician. Need coin, he makes it appear."

"My Lord?" Podrick asked. While technically a joint squire to him and Jaime, with Jaime gone he was left as a glorified errand boy for Tyrion and the Imp truly regretted it. He was a good lad.

A sigh. "We're in debt, Podrick. The Crown is in debt."

"That sounds bad."

"Not as bad as one might think… We make most of our expenses with taxes and other revenue, but these incidentals… a third is borrowed from my father, a third from the Iron Bank, rest from either House Hightower, Volantis, or the Rogares in Lys. Seven hundred thousand gold dragons…"

Pod's eyes widened. "Seven hundred thousand?!"

"Quiet lad, quiet. The walls have ears." Another sigh. "The Crownlands and Riverlands are still devastated from the damned Red Plague… if we can get their productivity up then I can pay off this debt, but we haven't and it's just giving me a headache." Noticing Pod silent and shifting, Tyrion cleared his throat. "Care to say something? Have more to dump on my plate?" He didn't mean to be so gruff, but it just came out.

"Um… Lord Tyrion… while you were in with Lord Baelish, a Nymeria Sand came, asking if you were still keen on dinner together?"

Eyes widening, immediately a smile formed on Tyrion's face. "Lady Nymeria, oh yes." Shuffling the papers, he pushed them back into a ledger and then into a locked drawer of his desk. "Sorry Podrick, just a bit stressed but this should help greatly." Given all that had happened, the long-awaited date between the two that he won was constantly postponed, but it was about time. "Where did she say she was going?"

"She said she'd wait for you in your chambers."

The smile widened. "Perfect." He handed Pod a silver stag with Rhaegar's profile upon it. "Go, enjoy yourself tonight… as I hope to." He was practically skipping out of his office.

The closer Tyrion got to his chambers - given his gait, it took far longer than it would for those of ordinary height - the more his elation turned to nerves. This… was the first time since Tysha that he actually attempted to woo a woman, and that turned out to be something set up by Jaime to give him love and experience. All others had been whores, and they were rather… compliant to say the least as long as one paid and didn't try to kill them. Nymeria Sand wasn't an arrogant highborn, but still quite out of his league if he cared to admit. Tyrion Lannister was nothing without his name and fortune, but all dwarves were but bastards.

Worse than actual bastards, given at least one of them could look like his nephew Robb or Daemon Blackfyre, while he was the way he was be his name Lannister or Tyrion Tanner from Flea Bottom.

"Well," he mused to himself as he reached his chambers. "Too late to give up now." Taking a deep breath, he reached up for the knob and entered.

The fire was crackling and a sea breeze wafted in from the open window - but Tyrion didn't noticed, too riveted to the woman leaning against the column beside the window. "You know, I didn't expect this to be an actual dinner," Nymeria said, sharpening her knife as she spoke.

Gulping, Tyrion took in her… flawless appearance. Her hair was let down freely rather than the braid she usually wore, while her dress was a gauzy material that showed her long legs, limbs, and midriff through sheer fabric, the rest darker and non-translucent. Also it was pink in color, rather a rare color for her. "If you means to kill me, at least I caught a glimpse of the gods before my death.

To her credit, Nym blushed. "I'm not gonna kill you, Lord Tyrion. Just bored."

"I see." He closed the door, gesturing to the table he had set up in the middle of the chambers. "Please, sit. I insist." She sighed and sauntered over, taking her seat just as Tyrion climbed into his. The wine was already poured, while he reached over and removed the cover to the dish. "Something simple, a proper honey-roasted ham and carrots. Plus bread and cheese."

"Not usually a staple in Dorne, but I've eaten Dornish food all my life so a little variety is good." Nym used her knife to cut herself a portion, then for him. "Go ahead, ask about my godsawful dress."

Tyrion chuckled. "It does seem… different."

"Tyene picked it out. I think she hates me."

"Take it from someone whose sibling did hate him once - and likely still does - the teasing is a sign of love."

"It's a sign of me eventually slitting her throat in her sleep. Least Obara's at the edge of the fucking world." Nym took a swig of the wine, sighing. "Ah, I'm going to need more of that."

"If you wished a drinking companion after dinner, you came to the right place." Tyrion began to eat himself. "And truthfully about the dress, it looks ravishing on you. Though anything would."

"Well… thank you." Nym smiled, this time without a grimace. "I would suspect you'd prefer me in nothing."

"Any man would, but I do say you are discriminatory about who does."

She chuckled. "You know me so well already." They ate in silence for a moment, Tyrion for his part simply adjusting to the situation. He tried to keep calm, but in the presence of such a tanned beauty it was hard. Those lips, they needed to be kissed. That body worshipped. Damn him to the Seven Hells for being such a lecher, but he consoled himself for being romantic in his desires rather than debased. "What do you want of me, Lord Tyrion?"

He was deep in thought and it wasn't till he was mid chew that he caught her voice. "Hmm?" He swallowed. "What do you mean?"

"If you expect this dinner to end with me letting you rut into me, that's not happening." Her scowl was prominent - and much like her aunt the Queen. "I'm not a whore you can pay."

"Never thought you were." He sipped at his wine for courage. "If I may be bold, I wished to win our bet since I wanted the opening to court you."

That seemed to shock her. "Court me? The fuck?"

"Aye… I wish to settle down, and I find myself smitten by you."

"I… but… I… what?"

"I do believe I've rendered you speechless," Tyrion chuckled as she downed her wine. "If it disgusts you then I will stop."

"No…" She gasped out a breath. "It's not that, Lord Tyrion, just I never expected it. Few… want to do more than just fuck me."

He nodded. "Because you are a bastard, aye?"

She smiled sadly. "Dorne is better than most, but there is still a stigma. I could be the paramour of a Lord, a kept woman… perhaps a landed knight would marry me, or a third son, or an older Lord seeking to sate his desires for a younger woman, but it's still an insult and they would rather seek better. At least like my younger sisters, highborn on both sides even though bastards."

"I see." He shrugged. "I know the feeling."

"You're trueborn."

He smiled sadly in return. "All dwarves are bastards in their father's eyes. Tywin Lannister has use of me, but truly only Jaime and my aunt Genna loved me. The rest… at best tolerate me."

She was silent for a moment. "I see." A sip. "Well… if you wish for this to happen again, I won't say no."

It was his turn to blink. "Promise, you shan't regret it." Nymeria smiled back at him, raising her cup in a gentle toast to what would come.

"You're playing with fire, Missandei."

Stacking the silver stags from behind the bar, notching down the numbers in the ledger book - unlike payments over flesh, the take from refreshments and food wasn't necessary to individually document, Missandei looked up. "What do you mean?"

The whore laughed, flipping back her straight blonde hair behind her shoulder. "That family you've been seen associating with. The Westerosi hedge knight and his children, namely the girls. Making friends with them is just gonna end in pain."

She frowned. "I am not friends with them… they are just tenants."

"That asked for you by name," came the reply. "And I'm sure it wasn't because either young lad wishes to fuck you - Mistress Caelia won't let some hedge knight's son take your maidenhead." She chuckled at that, while Missy winced at the implication.

Tugging slightly at her kinky hair, a nervous habit, Missandei jotted down another figure in the ledger book and shrugged. "They speak decent Valyrian but not bastard Valyrian. I am sure they are glad for a translator that knows what she's doing."

A snort. "I'm a whore, Missandei. I've spent my life trying to please men and women sexually, and every damn day I've heard the stupid cunts trick themselves into thinking I enjoy what they do to me - I've experienced every sort of wishful thinking and your words reek of it as the brothel reeks of cheap perfume." Caelia wouldn't ever risk the expensive stuff on an average workday.

"It's not…" A sigh, Missy's expression growing sorrowful. "I spend all my time with them thinking I'm crossing a line, that they'll beat me or rape me if I do something wrong… or that Mistress Caelia will be the one to do it, but in truth I haven't been as happy as I am now since being taken from Naath."

Expecting another dismissive insult, instead the whore placed her hand upon Missy's. "Listen, I am free now in name but not in truth. I owe Caelia a lot of coin and likely won't be able to pay it for a while, even though she freed me from bondage five years ago. Now, you'll be similar to me in the future but for now there is the collar on your neck." Missy reached up to touch the leather collar - when she was first captured, it chafed her and made it feel like she was choking, but now it was second nature to her.

As it would always be.

"You'll never know any true friendships while that collar is on your neck, not when the ones you've bonded with are a whim away from being sold to Vaes Dothrak or some illegal brothel in Oldtown."

She nodded, a tear in her eye. "I know."

"So make your peace, before it destroys you." Downing her drink, the whore was off. Missy knew particularly that this was her night off, so an evening of blissful sleep either alone or with her female lover was the plan. Even she had someone to comfort her… without Larra or Alayne, Missy had no one.

The door to the tavern opened and… Missy noticed Ned enter. "My Lord," she called out, as she always did. Every freeborn was a Lord to a lowly slave. "May I be of service?"

Ned seemed surprised to hear her, but rallied himself. "Missandei… sorry, I just didn't expect anyone but the guard or a few patrons, and they don't usually say a word to me."

"Just counting the day's total take, my Lord. My apologies for startling you." Each stack of silver and bronze coins made their way into purses, a specific amount into each that was stenciled atop it. "You need not let me keep you from your activities."

He shrugged, tunic rumpled and dark curls a bit… askew. Missandei's mind - primed by the brothel in which she worked - immediately went into the gutter but she did not say anything. "Just… don't tell Larra or Alayne that I was out. They don't need to know everything I do even if they wish to."

As a friend, Missandei would've raised her brow and pried further - but considering the advice she'd been given, it was best to act as a mere servant rather than a friend. She could never be their friend. "Of course, my Lord," she nodded her head. "You need not worry, my lips are sealed."

Ned grinned and brushed past. "Thank you, my dear." Without prompting, he pecked her cheek as one would a sibling or dear friend, Missy's jaw dropping but not a word able to leave till he had departed. Her cheeks flushed, a small smile curling upon her lips… until it fell into a frown.

Regardless of anything, when the family left she was careening for a very hard crash. It was inevitable, she had bonded to them.

Trudging to Mistress Caelia's private solar with the sacks of silver and bronze coins, Missandei knocked on the door without much energy. Sadness overwhelming her system. "Mistress, I'm here with the daily take."

"Enter." Expecting her alone… or perhaps being serviced, sometimes she didn't care if another slave witnessed that, Caelia instead was fully clothed in the presence of the bald Good Master from earlier. His eyes raked over her, teeth bared in what was supposedly a smile. Missandei felt herself shiver, unsettled. There were… certain whores that routinely had their patrons gaze at them like that. They never lasted long here, while Caelia was paid double for them. "Put the sacks on the table."

Missandei did so, curtseying as she was done. "Does Mistress wish anything else of me?"

"No, not anymore." Caelia clicked her tongue. "You've been sold."

Eyes widening, her eyes went to the Good Master. "What? I've been sold?"

"Yes." Caelia's voice was bloodless. "I truly wished for you to become the one who ran this place for me, but Kraznys mo Nakloz made me an offer I couldn't well refuse. You are his now."

Speaking in bastard Valyrian, this Kraznys grabbed Missandei roughly by the arm. "You're coming with me, girl."

Faced with this clear nightmare, all Missy could think of at the moment was one thing.

She wouldn't even be able to say goodbye to her friends.