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“I’m sorry, my prince,” Ser Arthur murmured to himself as he watched Lyanna Stark’s body burn on her pyre. “I wasn’t there for you when it mattered, and I couldn’t even protect her.”
“No man can protect a woman the gods decide to take on the birthing bed, Ser Arthur,” Ser Gerold said gently. “Certainly not a knight, at any rate.”
“I could have saved him,” Ser Arthur muttered, feeling for far the first time since he received the news from the Trident like his chest was going to cave in on itself as his friend’s had under the usurper’s warhammer.
“We cannot focus on what might have been,” Ser Oswell sighed, holding the young prince Daemon in his arms. “Our focus must be on the king.”
“Is the ship ready yet?” Ser Gerold asked.
“It is, Lord Commander,” Ser Oswell replied, “and our scouts just reported that a small party is headed our way. The Stark banner was spotted.”
“Fuck,” Ser Arthur muttered. “If Princess Lyanna had lived, perhaps she’d have managed to talk sense into her brother, but now…”
“We must flee,” Ser Gerold sighed. “We’ll go first to Pentos and then disappear from there. The young king must be readied to retake his throne someday, when he’s ready.”
“What of the prince and the dowager in Dragonstone?” Ser Oswell asked.
“We’ll have to pray that they manage to escape too,” Ser Gerold said wearily. “Nearly all is lost, but as long as King Daemon lives, there is hope.”
“You have the right of it,” Ser Arthur sighed. “Gods, please let our luck turn here.”
It did not.
*****
Many years later, the wet sound of flesh slapping flesh echoed through the torch-lit room deep under the Golden Pyramid of Qaggaz, drowned out only by the deep, guttural cries spilling from the slave girl’s lips. Both she and the man rutting her from behind were covered in sweat, their bodies glimmering in the faint orange light, as much due to the heat as their frenetic coupling, yet neither seemed to notice, lost as they were in following the orders they’d been given.
“By the gods,” Grazdan mo Eraz breathed, watching the display with wide, dark eyes.
“An impressive specimen, no?” Yezzan zo Qaggaz grinned, his fat jowls jiggling as he chuckled. “I didn’t expect, when I decided to travel to Lys, that I would return with a male slave, but that one did catch my eye.”
“I didn’t know you were into that,” Morghaz zo Zherzyn quipped, and Yezzan glared at him.
“Just because you like buggering boys doesn’t mean the rest of us do,” he spat, and the other Yunkish nobleman sneered at him in response.
“Surely that monster of a man has never buggered anyone,” Chezdhar zo Rhaezn grimaced. “I mean, look at that thing. I’d almost think you bought him for your grotesquerie.”
“Having a big cock doesn’t make a man a grotesque,” Grazdan chuckled, “though I do imagine you’ll be sticking to having him breed only women who have already birthed babes. Why ruin something still pristine with a horse cock like that?”
“Why did you buy him anyway?” Morghaz asked, and Yezzan chuckled.
“Look at him,” the slaver said. “According to the man I bought him from, his family decided when the boy was quite young that he’d be a breeding bull. You know what the Lysene are like; obsessed with beauty and little else.”
“Well, he is a handsome creature, I’ll give him that,” Chezdhar commented, looking the still-rutting slave up and down. “Tall and broad-shouldered, with a surprisingly strong build for someone who’s spent most of his days fucking.”
“That’s why I bought him,” Yezzan replied. “The Lysene cunt who owned him saw only his pretty purple eyes and handsome face, but really look at him. He’s no warrior and yet he’s well-muscled; he’s the only sort of slave whose life is worthy envying, and yet he looks like if I gave him six moons of training, I could throw him in the fighting pits and he’d do well. It’s his blood; it has to be, and the few young boys I saw who he’d apparently fathered all looked strong as well. I think the Lysene were wasting him trying to create pretty things for them when he could have been siring future pit fighters.”
“You think he comes of warrior stock,” Grazdan murmured, watching as the slave girl the young bull was fucking shrieked and collapsed on her belly, her limbs too weak and limp to hold her up as she crested. “I guess I could see it.”
“The giant in my collection recently died and the boy will make a fine replacement for him,” Yezzan murmured, making the others chuckle, as they all knew that he had quite liked to watch his giant fuck slave girls as well. “I think he’ll also sire me a small army of boys worthy of the fighting pits. It’s one sort of slave that I don’t trade in much, and I think it will make me a small fortune in coin.”
Daemon grunted, keeping his pace measured and his face blank as he did his best to ignore the monsters talking about him. He’d learned at a young age that reacting to the things the masters said was a great way to get himself punished, and these new Ghiscari ones seemed far crueler than the Lysene ones he’d known all his life. His sale had come as a shock, as his old master, Myrmadore Dagareon, had seemed to be too fond of him and the services he provided to ever part with him, but he supposed that that was just wishful thinking on his part. It wasn’t that he particularly cared for the man, but Lys was all that he’d ever known, and he wasn’t particularly pleased with the much hotter, harsher Yunkai.
“What I want is irrelevant,” he thought to himself, trying not to scowl.
The woman under him, a rather pretty, copper-skinned woman he assumed was of Dothraki origin, shrieked as she came again, and he grunted at the feeling of her tight tunnel spasming around his pistoning shaft, using everything he’d learned in Lys to hold back his own release.
“Gods, do you ever finish?” Yezzan asked, and he furrowed his brow in confusion at the man.
“Only when my master wills it,” Daemon replied, and the hideously fat man barked a laugh.
“Well, there’s something that even we Yunkish cannot teach our bedslaves,” Yezzan chuckled. “I must have someone ask your old master how he managed it at some point. Seed the girl, boy. I want to see her belly swell with a new slave as soon as possible.”
Daemon groaned as he let go, spilling rope after thick rope of his seed inside the girl. He clenched his eyes shut, feeling them grow wet at the thought of sentencing another child to the only life he’d ever known, well aware of the fact that most slaves lived worse lives than he did. He could not disobey, though, as much as he wanted to. The girl collapsed on the floor the moment he pulled his long, thick shaft from her gaping quim, twitching and panting for breath.
“Fuck me, look at her cunt!” Morghaz exclaimed. “She looks like she just gave birth, or else took on a thousand men.”
“I think you have a point, Grazdan,” Yezzan grinned. “This one will only be given to women who have already birthed babes, lest I let him destroy something of true value. I don’t think that even my giant had a cock that big.”
“So...good,” the girl whimpered, shaking like a leaf as she rolled onto her side and curled up, smiling widely.
“Get her out of here and bring another of the slave girls,” Yezzan commanded, gesturing to a pair of Unsullied guards he owned. “Boy, you will seed everyone I have brought to you today and don’t waste as much time getting the rest of them ready.”
“Master, this one has found that if the girls are not ready enough, they can tear in ways that can be fatal,” Daemon said as diplomatically as he could, staring down at the ground. “If your magnificence doesn’t care about losing slaves, this one will do as you wish, but…”
“Fine, fine,” Yezzan muttered, shaking his head. “If you insist on lapping at them like a damn dog, I’ll allow it, but be quick about it this time. I want to hear her scream at being fucked by that monstrosity between your legs.”
“Yes, Master,” Daemon replied, wishing more than anything that he could strangle the fat man to death with his bare hands. It was a futile wish, he knew, for no power in this world would ever make him free enough to strike back against the masters, but he wished for it dearly all the same.
*****
“Yunkai is yours, Khaleesi,” Jorah announced, and Daenerys let out a sigh of relief.
“We have won,” she grinned, though her face quickly fell as she looked around. “Where is Daario Naharis?”
“Daario is being tended to,” Jorah replied, clearly trying to keep some degree of satisfaction out of his voice.
“He was wounded?” Daenerys asked. “Is it serious?”
“He...took an arrow, Khaleesi,” Jorah replied.
“Where?” Daenerys asked.
“Somewhere most unfortunate, your Grace,” Arstan replied, joining them. “He should live, though I imagine he doesn’t want to at the moment. With the city having surrendered, the gates should be opening soon.”
“Good,” Daenerys smiled, looking out at the city. “I wish to look upon these thousands of newly freed men, women, and children.”
The two of them both nodded, and she walked past them, intending to march on towards Yunkai now that it had been subdued. What followed the next day was the most joyous moment of Daenerys’ young life as, in their thousands, the former slaves streamed out towards her. This had been what she’d sought all along, to take these poor people held in bondage and ensure that they would never again suffer the indignities of slavery, indignities she felt she understood well. As she rested in the city later that day, already plotting out her move against Meereen, another slave city that had risen up against her after she crushed the masters of Astapor, Missandei entered the chambers she’d taken.
“You called for...who is that?” the former slave breathed, seeing the corpse of a man being wrapped up by her guards.
“Mero was his name,” Daenerys replied. “He was the one with the long red beard we saw before, if you recall.”
“Oh,” Missandei said, staring down at the dead man. “This one did not recognize his face without it.”
“He survived the battle and was less than pleased that I’d won it,” Daenerys sighed, looking down at the man with open contempt. “I think he meant to follow us to Meereen and strike at me later on, but one of the freedmen spotted him and alerted us. He barely got inside here before the Unsullied slew him.”
“You wished to see me, Your Grace?” Missandei asked, and Daenerys smiled.
“I did,” she replied. “I need my braids undone. We’ll be staying here for the night and continuing on in the morning towards Meereen.”
“Understood,” Missandei replied, getting to work on her hair.
“I must admit, as strange as they appear, I have come to appreciate these pyramids,” Daenerys murmured, sighing in contentment as her handmaid tended to her. “This one was emptied before I arrived, the masters of it slain by their slaves.”
“One of the slaves,” Missandei corrected her, and Daenerys turned her head towards her. When she cocked an eyebrow at her, the former slave continued, saying, “I was speaking to some of the freedmen earlier, and apparently the former owner of this place, a slave master named Yezzan, was killed by one of his slaves in the chaos. The man all but emptied the pyramid out for you.”
“He must be quite the warrior,” the Valyrian beauty mused. “Did you catch his name?”
“Daemon, your Grace,” Missandei replied ,and Daenerys furrowed her brow.
“A Valyrian name,” she commented.
“Indeed,” Missandei replied. “Those I spoke with said that he doesn’t have the look of one, save for his eyes.”
“I’ll want to meet him,” Daenerys replied. “One can never have too many skilled warriors in their service.”
“Right,” Missandei replied, sounding suddenly awkward as she continued to work on Daenerys’ numerous braids. “Your Grace, you’ve said before that I can speak more freely around you than I could before…”
“If you have a question, ask it,” Daenerys murmured, smiling up at her.
“You’ve mentioned before that you were cursed, but you’ve never gone into details,” Missandei replied, and Daenerys sighed.
“I tried to help a terrible woman back when my husband, Drogo, still lived, and it cost me greatly,” Daenerys replied. “When a minor wound he suffered festered, I was terrified. My brother was dead, having been killed by Drogo for threatening me and our child, and without him, I knew that I’d be all alone while carrying his child, whom the others would quite likely kill as a rival. I was willing to give anything to avoid that, and when that maegi, Mirri Maz Duur, said that saving Drogo would cost a life, I accepted, being willing to give up my own if that’s what it took. Instead, she slew my child and locked my husband into a half-life, breathing but mindless.”
“Gods, I’m so sorry,” Missandei breathed as Daenerys wiped the tears from her eyes.
“She burned for it, but that didn’t bring them back, and I’m certain it didn’t end her curse,” Daenerys scowled.
“What curse was it, exactly?” Missandei asked. “I’m sorry to bring up such terrible memories, but…”
“I will never carry another child,” Daenerys whispered, too emotional to get any more than that out. “Before I had her killed, she made it clear that I would never have another one. I traded my Rhaego’s life for nothing, and so my line ends. The dragons are my children, my beloved children, and they’re the only ones I’ll ever know.”
Missandei took a deep breath at that, preparing to ask the question that had prompted this in the first place. She had heard from some of the others that her savior had lamented the fact that she’d never be a mother, as the people of Yunkai had named her earlier, but wanted to get confirmation from her before she suggested what she had in mind.
“I don’t wish to offend you, but I must ask, have you...tried since?” she asked, and Daenerys whipped around.
“Are you seriously asking me if I have…taken a man to bed since Drogo?” she asked incredulously.
“I just mean to say that she could have lied,” Missandei replied defensively. “Whatever magic she used to kill your son, that might have been all that it did, and you won’t truly know unless you…”
“I...suppose you’re right,” Daenerys murmured, staring off at nothing as she remembered the older woman’s cruel words. “She just seemed so absolutely certain and gleeful about the extent of the damage she had done to me.”
“She was a wretched woman who rewarded the kindness you showed her with great cruelty,” Missandei said, “but it is possible that cruelty was the sole point of her words.”
“You think that she just wanted to make me think, even as she knew that her fate was completely sealed and that her end would be suitably terrible, that she had destroyed my womb as a way to strike at me one last time?” Daenerys asked, her heart racing as she felt a hint of hope about her situation for the first time since she lost her son.
“I think that it’s a possibility that you might want to consider,” Missandei replied. “Obviously, I’m not suggesting that you just take the first man you lay eyes on to test out my theory…”
Daenerys giggled at that and smiled up at her handmaid and friend.
“Thank you,” she sighed. “I know it sounds silly but I really did just take her at her word.”
“You suffered two terrible losses at once,” Missandei said soothingly, smiling softly at her. “You can’t be blamed for not thinking entirely clearly through that.”
“That does raise the question of who I could...test with,” Daenerys murmured, blushing as she did so. “Daario was an option once but then he took an arrow to the cock...”
“Daario?” Missandei asked in surprise, unable to stop herself and she winced as Daenerys looked offended. “I mean, of course. Daario is quite striking with his blue hair and…”
“It isn’t worth discussing at any rate,” Daenerys muttered, waving her off. Tapping her fingers on the table, she murmured, “Who could I pick?”
“Actually, the whole reason that I brought up any of this was because I thought that I might have an idea,” Missandei replied. “I had heard that you thought you couldn’t have children because of a curse and wanted to make sure that that was true before I suggested that you might wish to see if this Daemon man could break it.”
“Why him?” Daenerys asked curiously. Her curiosity only mounted as Missandei blushed and she chuckled, asking, “What is it? Missandei, if you’ve seen this warrior and like the look of him, you could just try to charm him yourself. I’m flattered that you’d think of me, but…”
“He’s not a warrior, Your Grace,” Missandei corrected her. “Clearly he has some skills at violence, given everything, but he was, first and foremost, a stud slave.”
“A...what?” Daenerys asked, and Missandei blushed again.
“The children of slaves owned by the masters of Slavers’ Bay are themselves made slaves from birth,” she replied. “Because of this, there are some who force their slaves to breed as one would cattle, often by having specific slaves lay with other specific slaves seen as being more likely to give them valuable offspring.”
“Gods, I loathe this wretched practice,” Daenerys muttered.
“It is said that in Lys, slaves are bred for beauty,” Missandei replied, “and this man was purchased from a slaver in that city by the former master of this pyramid.”
“So he’s beautiful, is he?” Daenerys asked, cocking an eyebrow at Missandei, who just looked away.
“I have not seen him yet,” she replied, “but I did hear from the other freedmen that he claimed to have sired over a hundred children for his former master back in Lys, and even though he’s only been here for less than two moons, already two women that he’s lain with have stopped bleeding.”
“A Hundred?” Daenerys asked, blinking in shock.
“His seed is clearly strong, and I thought as I heard about him that it might very well be strong enough to overcome the curse, should there even be one,” Missandei finished, and Daenerys leaned back in her chair, intertwining her fingers as she rested her hands on her soft, flat belly and considered the other woman’s words.
“I would like to have children,” she said. “I cannot ride three dragons, after all, and if I had babes of my own, they could be riders for the other two.”
“It would also help secure your reign when you take back your kingdoms,” Missandei murmured, and Daenerys sighed, not particularly wanting to think about Westeros while there were still people in this land who needed her help.
“I would meet this man,” Daenerys declared. Blushing scarlet, she added, “I’m not saying that I would take him here and now, but it might well be worth speaking with him, and thanking the man who cleared out this pyramid for me to stay in would not be out of the question.”
“Of course,” Missandei replied. “Do you wish for me to find him and let him know that you seek to thank him for what he did?”
“Please do,” Daenerys replied. “I doubt I shall be getting to sleep anytime soon anyway, excited as I still am, so I could speak with him.”
“I’ll see it done,” Missandei smiled, “and I will, naturally, not mention anything about your other reasons.”
“Thank you,” Daenerys replied, watching her leave.
*****
“Your queen wishes to see this one?” Daemon asked, more surprised by the command than he had been by the interruption.
“She does,” the lovely, dusky-skinned woman who had apparently been searching for him for several minutes replied. “She would prefer if you referred to yourself as I or me as well.”
“Then thi...I shall go at once,” Daemon nodded, wincing as he moved his shoulder.
“Are you alright?” the woman asked.
“When I tried to take down a man I recognized from the meeting he’d had with Mas...Yezzan the other day, he shoved me and I landed on my shoulder,” Daemon replied. “He would have likely tried to do more if I hadn’t alerted the guards.”
“I would tell her Grace about that too,” the woman said. “If we’re talking about the red-bearded man who was slain trying to reach her, she’s quite pleased about his death as well.”
Daemon nodded at that and made his way out to the chambers this strange queen had taken for the night. They were Yezzan’s chambers, and though he’d been there for only seven weeks, he knew well where they were, having been brought there many times to perform for the dead man’s amusement.
“Dead by my hands,” he thought to himself, staring down at them as he walked.
He’d surprised himself by his reaction to the news that this army was seeking to free the slaves of Yunkai from their chains. He had loathed Yezzan zo Qaggaz from the moment that he laid eyes on him and still hadn’t thought that he’d ever bring himself to kill the man. As the opportunity came, though, he found himself moving faster than he could think, and soon enough he was staring into the lifeless eyes of the terrible man, holding the bloody knife with which he’d opened his throat.
“The queen will see you,” one of the two Unsullied guards standing watch outside the doors to her chambers said as they spotted him, and Daemon nodded, keeping his head down.
They opened the door, and he walked inside, coming to an instant halt as he spotted the absolute vision that awaited him. He had seen his share of silver-haired, purple-eyed women in Lys, a city where the blood of Old Valyria remained unusually strong, but not one of them had ever held a candle to the beauty of the woman standing before him. She was stunning; there was no other word for it, standing there in her purple gown. Her face was heart-shaped, with prominent cheekbones, full, pouty lips, and a cute nose. Her silver-gold hair spilled across her shoulder and back in waves, and as he let his eyes roam down over her slender form for a moment, he felt himself stir in a way that forced him to look away.
“You’re him, then?” Daenerys asked. “You’re the one who slew the former master of this place.”
“This...I am,” Daemon replied. “If you wish to kill me for it, that is your right, but…”
“Oh, that’s the last thing I wish to do,” Daenerys replied, walking over to the corner where a jug of what he recognized as Yezzan’s favorite wine sat on a table and pouring two cups of it. “You’ve never drunk your former master’s wine, I’m sure.”
“I haven’t,” Daemon confirmed, trying not to stare at her magnificent ass, the shape fo which he could make out through the purple silk almost perfectly.
“Then do so,” Daenerys smiled, turning around and walking up to him, goblet in hand.
As he took it from her, there was a spark so strong that he nearly dropped it in surprise, and they both froze, staring into each other’s eyes.
“They really are as purple as Missandei said,” Daenerys murmured.
“I’m sorry?” Daemon asked, having barely heard what she said, mesmerized as he was by her beautiful eyes.
“Your eyes,” Daenerys said, “they’re like mine.”
“They might be purple, but they’re not like your eyes,” Daemon murmured. “They’re like two polished amethysts, sparkling and beautiful.”
Daenerys’ breath hitched at that, and she took a step back, trying to ignore the heat pooling in her core. Daemon was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, his long, handsome face looking like it was cut from stone with his strong, square jaw and high cheekbones. His tempting lips, long, straight nose, and dark curls, which fell to his shoulders, were all lovely too, but it was his eyes, the deep, dark purple orbs, that truly drew her attention.
Daemon noticed her nipples poking through the silk gown she was wearing and looked down at his goblet to try to keep his cock from swelling too noticeably. Sipping it, he said, “Mmm, this is really good, thank you.”
“It is,” Daenerys smiled. “When I heard what you did here, I decided that I wanted to meet you. How many of his guards did you have to fight off?”
“Only two,” Daemon replied. “He had sent most of them to fight in the battle against your forces. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to convince them to turn on him, so I slew them and then slit his throat.”
“To kill three men on your own like that you must be quite the warrior,” Daenerys murmured.
“I wouldn’t say that, but my old master’s wife liked to see the most comely slaves trained to fight,” Daemon replied. “She claimed that learning from warriors made us more attractive to her, and that was undeniably important for her.”
“The Lysene place that much importance on beauty?” Daenerys asked. “I had heard where you came from.”
“She also liked to take her favorites among us to bed,” Daemon replied, and Daenerys blinked at him.
“She managed to hide that from her husband?” she asked, and he shook his head.
“Those two had an...unusual relationship,” Daemon replied. “I turned out to have a talent with a blade, and she made sure that I was as well trained as anyone in her service.”
“I could use another skilled hand at my side,” Daenerys murmured. “My Unsullied, my remaining Dothraki warriors, and my guards are quite the force, but I don’t know if it will be enough to take on Meereen.”
“I will serve you as you wish,” Daemon replied. “From what I’ve heard of your forces, they could likely to defeat Meereen, but once Yunkai turns on you, you’ll be surrounded.”
“Why would Yunkai turn against me?” Daenerys asked, furrowing her brow in confusion.
“You’re sparing the masters, are you not?” Daemon asked. “Once your back is turned, they will take control back, and then you’ll have them at your heels before long.”
“You say that as though it’s certain,” Daenerys muttered.
“It is,” Daemon replied. “All these people have ever known for their entire lives is that they own everything and everyone they see. I assume you have a crown, and so I have to ask, if someone stole it would you not try to get it back?”
“That’s not the same thing,” Daenerys scowled.
“It is to them,” Daemon replied simply. “As long as they live, the Wise Masters of Yunkai will seek to reclaim their slaves and take revenge for this humiliation.”
“So you wish for me to kill them all?” Daenerys asked.
“I wish to be free,” Daemon replied. “All my life, this is all I’ve ever known, and the idea of being able to live without a master commanding my every moment is thrilling, but I know it will all be temporary if they’re left around. Why did you free us?”
“I know what it’s like to be sold as though you’re a thing rather than a person,” Daenerys replied, her eyes dimming as she looked down. “I was the wife of a Dothraki khal, sold to him by my brother for an army, something which didn’t end very well for him. When I arrived in Astapor and saw the sheer depravity of the masters there, all I could think was that there lived people who suffered even worse than I did.”
“This place is rather awful,” Daemon sighed. “My old master could be unpleasant at times, but not on the level of the Ghiscari masters. I might have hesitated to kill Master Myrmadore, but Yezzan? I took the first chance I got. I won’t ask you to kill the others, but I will warn you that there is no way for you to ensure that those you freed will stay that way as long as the Wise Masters live.”
Daenerys nodded at that, processing what he’d said. “Given your name, I expected you to be a Valyrian.”
“Given my eyes, I might be one,” Daemon chuckled. “All I was ever told about why I was called Daemon is that it’s what the men who took me heard the dying men on the ship they came across call out.”
“Ship?” Daenerys asked, and he nodded.
“It was one of Master Myrmadore’s favorite tales, about how he came upon a vessel that had been waylaid by a terrible storm and sacked it,” Daemon replied. “A number of people he carried off as slaves, including me, and there were apparently more than a few valuable treasures on the ship as well, though I never heard just what he found.”
“So you were raised as a slave,” Daenerys sighed, looking up at him, and he nodded.
“It’s all I’ve ever known,” Daemon said. “To tell you the truth, I’m not entirely certain what I will do with myself now.”
“As I said before, I could use another skilled sword arm at my side,” Daenerys replied, brushing her fingers over his forearm. “The choice is yours, though, Daemon. That’s the whole point of this.”
“You freed me, Mistress,” Daemon smiled. “If you want me by your side, I will happily join you.”
“Don’t call me that,” Daenerys sighed. “Your Grace would suffice.”
“Your Grace,” Daemon rumbled, and she felt her heart flutter at the sound of his deep voice. “Do you require anything from me tonight?”
“Yes, you lying under me while I ride you like a khal on a horse,” Daenerys thought to herself, holding back a whimper as she felt her insides clench and unclench at the image. He was so handsome, so utterly beautiful, and she knew that she’d enjoy him, but she wasn’t about to bed a man she’d just met, especially when that was the first hint of true desire she’d felt since the night she took Irri to bed.
“No,” she said. “We’ll be leaving on the morrow to ride north towards Meereen. You’ll come with me?”
“If you’ll have me,” Daemon grinned.
“I could have you right here,” Daenerys thought to herself. “Goodnight, Daemon.”
“Goodnight, Your Grace,” Daemon replied.
*****
“No! No! Please!” Hizdahr zo Loraq screamed as Strong Belwas’ blade came down onto his neck, severing his head cleanly.
“You’re certain that this is how you wish to handle this, Your Grace?” Ser Barristan asked gently.
“The slavers have made it clear that there can be no negotiation with them,” Daenerys replied, watching the executions. “They see the slaves as their rightful property and will not give them up. If I am to free them, I must slay their masters. I doubted it when Daemon said as much back in Yunkai, but I eventually saw that he had the right of it, and while I offered to spare these ones if they surrendered to me, they did not.”
“As you say, Your Grace,” Ser Barristan murmured.
Daenerys looked over at her old knight for a moment before turning back to Belwas. She’s been more than a little angry to learn that Arstan had turned out to be a man who served the Usurper, but his valor in the Siege of Meereen had helped soothe her. As vexed as she was by the idea that he willingly served Robert Baratheon, he had proven his loyalty to her well enough, and having someone around who truly knew her family was too great a thing to give up. Once the last few masters had been slain, she rose from her seat, and she and her guards left the arena, making their way back to the Great Pyramid. In the courtyard of the massive structure she’d taken as her palace, she found a number of her men training, including one who drew her gaze immediately.
“Tell me, Ser Barristan,” Daenerys murmured as she stared openly at Daemon and Grey Worm, watching the pair spar, “what do you make of him?”
“He’s good, Your Grace,” Ser Barristan replied, watching the pair with keen eyes. “To be honest, there’s something almost familiar about him.”
“Jorah used to say the same,” Daenerys muttered, scowling as she thought about the traitor.
“Jorah just thought he looked like Ned Stark,” Ser Barristan thought to himself, recalling overhearing the man mutter as much to himself before.
“His training was a little lacking when we first found him in Yunkai, but he’d improved quite a bit on the road, and he proved his valor in the siege,” Ser Barristan replied.
“I’m pleased to hear that,” Daenerys murmured, biting her lower lip as she watched him sidestep Grey Worn’s thrust and riposte towards his shoulder.
Grey Worm dodged the strike easily enough, and the sparring session continued. Daemon wasn’t going to win this, she could tell, but she didn’t expect most people to best her Unsullied one-on-one, anyway, given how well-trained they were. The fact that he was holding his own at all was impressive enough, and it was far from the only impressive thing about him.
“Gods, he’s gorgeous,” she thought to herself, feeling her insides quiver as she continued to watch him.
“To think, if not for the Lysene, he might well have drowned at sea as a babe,” Daenerys murmured.
“I’m sorry, your Grace?” Ser Barristan asked.
“Daemon,” Daenerys replied. “The Lysene man who enslaved him found him as a babe on a ship in the Narrow Sea that had been hit by a terrible storm. I’m going to have him guard me for the day, so you can take it off.”
“As you say, Your Grace,” Ser Barristan replied, having barely heard her as he lost himself in thought. “He looks to be about her age, has a Valyrian name and purple eyes, and he was found in the Narrow Sea as a babe. He also looks a fair bit like a Stark...no, it’s not possible.”
“Daemon?” Daenerys asked, and both he and Grey Worm stopped at once.
“Yes, Your Grace? Daemon asked.
“You’re guarding me for the rest of the day,” Daenerys declared. “Come.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Daemon replied, following her without hesitation.
Daenerys felt her heart rate spike as she led him up to her chambers at the apex of the Pyramid, a plan having already formed in her mind. She had wanted the former breeding slave since she laid eyes on him, and in the weeks sense, that desire had only grown. Not only was he tall, broad, and handsome, but he had proven himself a capable warrior and a fair advisor too.
Slaughtering the Wise Masters of Yunkai had been something she did reluctantly, but it had since proven to be a good idea. Whereas Astapor had become a problem, with a local butcher having taken power, threatening her peace, the other city seemed to be faring well. It would be a simple matter to bring Astapor to heel, but if Yunkai had rebelled as well, as it surely would have in the chaos with the slavers still around, that would have been quite the problem.
“The executions were finally finished today,” Daenerys said as they entered her chambers. “It’s going to take a lot of work to clean up the mess they left me here, but at least I won’t have to worry about them acting against me from the shadows.”
“The living have no reason to fear the dead,” Daemon nodded. “I heard that you sent Daario with a force to pacify Astapor.”
“Yes,” Daenerys replied. “This Cleon will die, and someone more stable and capable will be put in his place. I should have selected the council more carefully.”
“You’re new to ruling,” Daemon pointed out.
“My family ruled the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros for nearly three centuries,” Daenerys muttered. “It should be natural for me.”
“Walking is natural for us,” Daemon replied, “and yet we must still learn how.”
Daenerys chuckled at that and poured a couple cups of wine for them before handing one to him.
“I heard that you acquitted yourself quite well in the battle,” she murmured, walking past him and closing the door.
“I survived, and the men I fought did not,” Daemon replied, sipping his wine.
“You’re not one to brag, are you?” Daenerys asked, turning to look at him.
“I’ve never been one to try to draw attention to myself,” Daemon replied. “In my experience, those who did usually came to regret it.”
“And yet you’ve drawn my attention,” Daenerys replied. “Sit with me?”
“As you command,” Daemon replied, watching her sit down on the edge of her bed before joining her.
“I’ve heard about what it is you did before we met,” Daenerys murmured, looking into his eyes, and he sighed.
“I suppose I should have expected that,” Daemon replied, setting his wine down and immediately reaching for his belt.
“No, wait, stop!” Daenerys exclaimed, and he stared at her in confusion.
“What?” Daemon asked. “But you said…”
“I said that I had heard you were a breeding slave before I freed you, but that wasn’t a command to do anything...like that with me,” Daenerys replied. “I just wondered if you wanted to talk about it.”
“I don’t know if there’s really much to say,” Daemon replied. “Mistress Fysara noticed when I was very young that I was...rather unlike the other boys and decided that I should be a stud slave for them. She trained me herself, both to breed and to...perform for audiences...”
“Perform?” Daenerys asked.
“Many among the Lysene like to watch slaves fuck,” Daemon replied. “I was prized as a performer for my stamina and uniqueness.”
“Gods,” Daenerys muttered, looking away as her face grew warm. “The Dothraki enjoy bedding each other out in the open, but you make it sound like the Lysene watch such acts like plays.”
“They seemed to enjoy it,” Daemon replied. “I honestly preferred when they just wanted me to just put babes in women, as that was often far less tiring. The shows could go on for hours.”
“Hours?” Daenerys asked, her eyes raking over his form for a moment.
“Often involving multiple women one after the other,” Daemon replied. “I know it sounds like the average man’s paradise, but trust me when I say it is possible to have too much of anything.”
“Well, rest assured that you will never be made to do anything like that again,” Daenerys muttered. “The very idea of forcing others to take each other against their will…”
“It was still better than it was in Yunkai,” Daemon replied. “The Dagareons could be demanding, but they weren’t cruel like the Wise Masters were. The Lysene in general seemed less harsh than the Ghiscari masters.”
“Well, that isn’t something you need to worry about anymore,” Daenerys smiled.
“New Ghis still stands,” Daemon reminded her, and she scowled.
“They will be brought to heel in time,” she assured him. “They still made you sire countless children for them, children you’ll never know. Does that not bother you?”
“Of course it bothers me,” Daemon sighed, running a hand down over his face. “I likely sired dozens of children, all of whom remain in chains. I don’t think I let myself think about that back when I still wore a slave collar, but now…”
He trailed off, and she rubbed his shoulder, suppressing a shudder when she felt how warm and firm his muscles felt. He was like Drogo without all the rough, unpleasant parts she’d forced herself to ignore.
“If I take Lys…” she went to say, and he chuckled.
“You are incredible, Your Grace,” Daemon replied, “but even you could not conquer all of Essos, and that’s exactly what you’d need to do to conquer any of the Free Cities, save for Braavos, of course.”
“Perhaps not yet, but once my dragons are larger, anything will be possible,” Daenerys breathed, cupping his cheek. “You could get to know all of them and help free them.”
“Your…” he went to say, and she shook her head.
“Daenerys,” Daenerys said. “When we’re alone, it can just be Daenerys.”
“Daenerys,” Daemon smiled, testing out the word to see how it felt on his lips. “Has anyone ever called you Dany?”
She froze at that, her eyes widening with surprise, and she sighed, saying, “Only one, and he’s a man I try not to think about much.”
“Oh,” Daemon replied, looking down.
“I think I might like it from you, though,” Daenerys added, making him smile.
“Dany,” Daemon said.
“To sire dozens of children, you must have bedded a great many women,” Daenerys murmured.
“Hundreds,” Daemon replied. “It’s a wonder I never became sick from it.”
“Hundreds,” Daenerys breathed, barely able to fathom it.
“It was what I was trained to do,” Daemon shrugged. “Mistress Fysara was very thorough in my training and made sure that I knew every way there was to pleasure women, mostly so I could use what I learned on her and her friends. She died a few moons before I was sold, which probably should have made me see it coming, though it didn’t.”
“I was taught how to please a man by a Lysene girl,” Daenerys whispered, not trusting her voice not to squeak as she stared down at his simple tunic. “She was a pleasure slave as well.”
“I take it she died?” Daemon asked.
“In the Red Waste,” Daenerys replied.
“I’m sorry,” Daemon whispered, leaning in closer as he peered into her eyes. “You said that I’d never be made to bed a woman again.”
“That’s true,” Daenerys nodded, her thumb ghosting over his cheekbone. “No one should be made to do such things against their will.”
“What if it’s not against their will?” Daemon asked. “What if the person doesn’t think that he’s ever wanted anything more in his life?”
“Well, that’s alri…” was all she got out before he pressed his lips to hers.
Kissing had been as foreign a concept to Drogo as it had been to Daenerys when they first started, as he didn’t seem to have bothered before with any of the countless women he took like beasts. That wasn’t true of Daemon, who quickly showed her that there was a whole art form to the act that she’d never learned. His lips were an instrument, one that he’d mastered years ago, and as they captured hers and he gently nudged her onto her back, they stoked desire in her the likes of which she’d never known. When his tongue pushed past her lips, she moaned into his mouth, brushing her own against it, and so they kissed wildly and passionately. Her arms wrapped around him, her hands brushing over his strong back, and when she spread her legs and went to wrap them around his waist as well, she felt something that made her break the kiss immediately.
“Um, Daemon, what’s that?” Daenerys asked.
“That’s...why Mistress Fysara took such a keen interest in me back in the day,” Daemon replied, sighing as he rolled onto his back and reached for his belt.
“Wait, you’re saying that’s…there’s no way in...” Daenerys stuttered, only to trail off as he stood up, undid his belt, and let his breeches fall to his ankles, revealing his cock. “By the gods.”
“I don’t honestly remember when I first realized that I wasn’t like other boys, but I know it was when I was quite young,” Daemon replied. “I thought I was a grotesque at one point, but Mist…”
“If you’re going to mention her in my presence, leave off the title,” Daenerys snapped, suddenly feeling absurdly envious of the dead woman. Standing up, she walked over to him and wrapped a hand around his cock, whimpering when she realized that her fingers didn’t come close to touching. “Fuck, it’s so big.”
“Before you ask, yes, it will fit,” Daemon chuckled, amused by the wide-eyed look of awe she was giving him. “You might not be able to take more than half of it, but I’ll be able to fit at least that inside you, and I have quite a bit of experience working with whatever the woman I’m with can take.”
“Has anyone ever taken the whole thing?” Daenerys asked.
“A fair few,” Daemon replied, and she shivered, suddenly overcome by determination to do just that.
“How much could Fysara take?” she asked.
“She never managed to take the last inch,” Daemon replied, “at least after I stopped growing. She swore as I developed that I kept resizing her, stretching her out more and more, but eventually I reached her limit.”
“I’m taking every inch if it kills me,” Daenerys thought to herself, overwhelmed by how badly she wanted to exceed the woman he’d mentioned more than once that day.
He was at least half again as long as Drogo and so much thicker that she swore her wrist was narrower. Wanting to test that, she pressed him against his tunic, feeling the flat, muscular stomach under it, and put her forearm up against it to compare, whimpering when she saw just how close they were. He was going to destroy her; there was no question about it, and in that moment, she didn’t know if there was anything she wanted more in the world.
“By the gods,” Daenerys breathed, and he chuckled, taking her hand and pulling her up.
She watched as he pulled his tunic off, saying, “If you really want me, I’ll give you a night you’ll never forget.”
“I want more than a night,” Daenerys breathed, her eyes roaming over his gorgeous body.
“Already?” Daemon asked, amused. “Usually women wait until I’ve had them once to decide that they want more.”
“No, that’s...that’s not what I meant,” Daenerys replied, looking down at the floor.
“Is something wrong?” Daemon asked.
“I lost a child some moons ago,” Daenerys replied.
“Gods, I’m so sorry,” Daemon said.
“Thank you,” Daenerys sighed. “He was slain within my womb by a witch who said that I’d never have other children. I believe there’s a chance she might have been lying, but I won’t know unless I try.”
“That’s why you were asking about the others I had sired,” Daemon murmured, and she nodded.
“I want to know whether or not that woman really did make sure that I’ll never bear children,” Daenerys sighed. “I need to.”
“We know that I can put children in women easily enough,” Daemon said. “Say the word, and I’ll do everything I can to make you a mother of more than dragons.”
“Do it,” Daenerys breathed. “Put a babe in me.”
He kissed her again and walked her back to the bed, undoing the laces holding her silver gown on with practiced ease. Before they reached the foot of the bed, the silk was already falling off of her, and as it pooled at her feet, she almost laughed, having never been undressed that quickly in her life.
“You’re perfect,” Daemon breathed, looking down at her gorgeous body. Cupping her sizeable, very perky breasts, he added, “Utterly perfect.”
“Oh gods,” Daenerys gasped, feeling him gently massage her small pink nipples with his fingers and thumbs.
His mouth found her neck, and she mewled as he started peppering the slender column with hot kisses. When he found her pulse point and gently nipped it, the flash of heat she felt in her core made her knees buckle, and she fell back on the bed, taking him with her.
“I want you inside me,” Daenerys all but demanded, and he grinned, brushing her long hair out of her face and peering deeply into her eyes.
“I’ll fill you up in ways you’ve never dreamed of,” Daemon whispered in her ear, making her quiver with need, “but first, I want to worship this incredible body of yours.”
“Worship?” Daenerys asked, and he merely grinned.
She thought it a strange word to use as she heard it, but over the next several minutes she came to understand it perfectly. With his hands, lips, and tongue, he mapped out every inch of her, his every touch driving her wilder and wilder. She squirmed under him, moaning and gasping as he made her feel things she’d never felt in her life.
Even after she convinced Drogo that there were other ways to fuck a woman than to just bend her over, hope she was wet enough, and rut her like a dog either way, sex between them had remained largely focused on him. Her only other experiences were with Doreah and Irri, both of whom had used their fingers to bring her pleasure, and so she thought that was all there really was to it, something that Daemon proved her wrong about.
“Wait, wait!” she exclaimed as she saw him kissing his way down along her inner thigh. “What are you doing?”
“Tasting you,” Daemon replied with a grin, spreading her silver curls aside to reveal her glistening, fleshy pink nether lips.
“Tasting?” Daenerys asked, confused. “What do you...oh gods!”
She’d never had anyone even mention the idea of licking her there, and the thought had never occurred to her. As she felt his long, dexterous tongue begin to dance through her folds, though, exploring her thoroughly, all she could think was that she dearly wished she’d discovered this absolute delight sooner.
“Fuck, fuck!” she cried, squirming under him, and he grinned, his eyes never leaving hers.
“Enjoying yourself, Dany?” Daemon asked, sounding amused as she clawed at the bedding above her head.
“How...have I never...experienced this before?” Daenerys asked, her voice shaky.
“You’re not the first to think it strange in the beginning,” Daemon murmured, swirling his tongue around the throbbing little nub atop her weeping cunt. “I can make you scream in pleasure just as easily like this as I can with my cock, though.”
“Don’t stop!” Daenerys cried, her thighs tightening around his head. “Don’t you dare stop!”
“Not until you beg me to,” Daemon rumbled, wrapping his lips around her clit and sucking gently on it.
She squealed, her feet kicking in the air as the pleasure overwhelmed her. Nothing had ever felt this good in her entire life, and she practically sobbed at the pleasure coursing through her. It crested higher and higher, reaching the part where she’d begged Irri to stop all those moons ago, fearing the sheer intensity of it.
“Stop, stop, stop,” Daenerys begged. “It’s too much!”
“What?” Daemon asked, confused. “But you haven’t cum.”
“What?” Daenerys panted, feeling like her body was on fire.
“You know, what a man feels when he spills,” Daemon explained, and she just blinked at him in confusion.
“But I’m not a man,” Daenerys replied, and he chuckled.
“Something I am most grateful for,” Daemon murmured, leaning in and kissing her softly.
She returned the kiss, happy to find that she didn’t taste as bad as she’d feared when he first started licking her and furrowed her brow in confusion when he pulled back and stared into her eyes.
“Do you trust me?” Daemon asked.
“Yes,” Daenerys replied without hesitation. “I know we haven’t known each other for long, but I do.”
“Then trust when I say that you don’t want me to stop just yet,” Daemon smiled. “That intense, scary feeling you had back there, like something was building and building inside you, you want it to build a little more.”
“If...if you’re certain,” Daenerys replied, and he nodded.
She nodded, and he began kissing his way down along her body again, taking a moment to kiss and suck on her nipples before continuing down along her belly back to her cunt. He swirled his tongue around the throbbing nub again, making her cry out, and then pushed two of his thick fingers inside her, stretching her in ways she hadn’t felt in ages.
“Fucking hells, she’s so tight,” he thought to himself, his cock throbbing at the thought of how she was going to feel around him.
He curled his fingers upward, searching for a spot that he knew would do the trick, and when he found the rough little patch and she immediately shrieked, he grinned and started sucking on her clit again. Daenerys cried and screamed, squirming on the bed as sensations more powerful than any she’d ever known racked her body. She gripped the bedding on either side of her so tightly that her knuckles turned white and fought with everything she had against the urge to tell him to stop again.
It felt so good; it felt too good, and she had no idea what exactly he was expecting to happen to her. The intensity grew and grew until all she could focus on in the entire world was the burning pleasure in her core, and just as she was about to beg him to stop again, certain that it was going to drive her mad, something inside her snapped, and she shrieked at the top of her lungs.
“I wouldn’t have expected to be soaked by a dragon, yet here I am,” Daemon thought to himself in amusement as she squirted all over him, her back arched so high off the bed that she nearly missed his face.
She writhed and convulsed on the bed as ecstasy the likes of which she’d clearly never known thundered through her body. He left her clit alone, knowing that it would already be too sensitive, but continued to pump his thick fingers in and out of her spasming cunt, stroking that spot inside her over and over again. Her climax fed into another and then another as he discovered, much to his delight, that she was multi-orgasmic, and by the time he finally relented and pulled his middle two fingers from her quivering cunt, she looked completely destroyed. Covered in a sheen of sweat that glistened in the light of the fire and shaking like a leaf, she stared out at nothing, her eyes glassy as she smiled widely.
“You’re...a...god,” Daenerys panted, and he laughed, lying next to her and pulling her in until she was resting her head on his chest.
Running his fingers through her long, silver-gold hair, he murmured, “I’m no god, Dany, merely a man who’s learned that women can experience pleasure too.”
“I want to...ride you,” Daenerys panted, staring into his eyes, “but I can’t feel...my legs.”
“We’re not pressed for time, Daenerys,” Daemon smiled, drawing random little shapes on her smooth back. “When you’re ready, we’ll continue.”
“Are you not desperate for me?” Daenerys asked, reaching down and wrapping a hand around his massive cock. “I can feel you throbbing.”
“I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything,” Daemon replied, “but I will wait for you to be ready all the same.”
“Fuck me,” Daenerys breathed, rolling onto her back. “I need you.”
“As you wish,” Daemon grinned, moving into position between her legs.
When he slapped his massive shaft on her mound, her eyes went wide as saucers and yet even as she found herself wondering again if he’d even fit, she knew that she wanted him desperately. Fisting his cock, he brushed the thick head through her wet folds teasingly, making her gasp and twitch, and then carefully lined himself up with her weeping opening.
“Are you certain?” he asked, and when she nodded, feeling safer than she ever had with any man before, he pushed forward, and they both moaned.
“Oh gods!” Daenerys cried, wrapping her arms around his neck as she felt his invading length spread her inner walls wider than she thought possible.
“Fucking hells, you’re so bloody tight,” Daemon groaned, burying his face in the crook of her neck and inhaling deeply of her scent as she molded around him like a wet silk glove. “You must really be part dragon too because I’ve never known anyone hotter.”
“You make...me feel...so small,” Daenerys panted as he started fucking her slowly, burying more and more of his cock inside her with every thrust.
“You’re safe,” Daemon whispered, cupping her cheeks.
“I know,” Daenerys whispered, feeling tears form in her eyes.
Daemon kissed her passionately, and she returned it in kind, wrapping her legs around his waist. He was fucking her with longer strokes by then, having buried most of his shaft inside her, and when his hips finally came to rest against her pillowy ass, he stopped and smiled down at her.
“That’s all of it,” he said, and she gasped, staring down at the point where they were joined.
“I can...actually see you inside me,” Daenerys marveled, reaching down to palm the visible bump in her lower belly. “You’re so deep.”
“I can stop here for a moment if you want,” Daemon offered.
“No,” Daenerys replied. “Move, please. You burn a bit, but you feel so good.”
“As you wish,” Daemon grinned, pulling most of his cock from her clinging depths and thrusting back inside, making her cry out.
Her hands found his chest and shoulders, feeling the well-defined muscles there, and she felt her insides quiver around him as she did. He was easily the most gorgeous man she’d ever met, and she didn’t think she’d ever desired anyone as much as she did him. The feeling of him moving inside her was indescribable, the sheer extent of how much he’d stretched her out making everything so much more intense than it had ever been with Drogo.
“I’m never going to be the same again, am I?” Daenerys asked, and he grinned.
“Of course not,” Daemon rumbled as he leaned in. When his lips were right by her ear, he whispered, “You’re going to be a mother.”
“Oh gods!” Daenerys cried, her insides clenching hard around him.
He picked up his pace, fucking her harder and faster, and as he saw her breasts begin to jiggle and roll on her chest, he reached out to palm and knead them.
“These beautiful breasts will swell with milk for our babes,” Daemon continued, grinning when he felt her flutter around him at his words. “Your belly will swell too, making room for them.”
“Them?” Daenerys squeaked.
“Oh, you don’t think I’d stop at just one, do you?” Daemon asked. “If I have my way, you’ll spend the next twenty years almost constantly heavy with child after child. I don’t know if I’ll ever get enough of your perfect little body.”
“Oh gods!” Daenerys screamed, grabbing the headboard for support as her eyes rolled back into her head. “Do it! Make me a mother! I want nothing more!”
Daemon grunted, leaning in and capturing one of her hard pink nipples with his lips. When he grazed the sensitive nub with his teeth, she clenched so hard he thought she had cum again and, realizing that she was just really close, he licked his fingers and reached down to stroke her clit. The effect was immediate as her screams grew louder and louder, and a moment later, she squealed, cumming hard.
“GODS!” Daenerys shrieked, writhing in pleasure.
Daemon grinned and continued fucking her at the same pace, prolonging her pleasure as much as he could. She writhed and convulsed under him, her tight cunt milking him hard, and yet he held on with practiced ease, wanting to make her cum again at least once more before he spilled for the first time that night. As she went limp under him, he rolled them over and held her tightly as she panted for breath.
“That...was...wait, did you...not finish?” Daenerys panted, planting a hand on his chest to push herself up and looking at him in confusion.
“I have a lot of control over my body, Dany,” Daemon replied. “I’ll spill inside you multiple times tonight if you like, but I want to see you writhe for me at least once more before I do at all.”
“You truly are...a wonder,” Daenerys panted, smiling tiredly down at him as she cupped his cheeks.
Leaning in she kissed him deeply and started to roll her hips, riding him slowly. As she did, she decided to try out one of the things that Doreah had taught her. As she lifted herself off of him, she clenched her inner muscles, milking him hard, and he groaned, looking up at her in surprise.
“I did say I was trained by a Lysene pleasure slave,” Daenerys smirked, resting her hands on his shoulders for support. As the pair grinned at each other, both knew that it was going to be quite some time before they left that bed.
*****
“GODS!” Daenerys’ latest pleasured squeal echoed through the pyramid a couple hours later.
“I’m glad she’s enjoying herself,” Missandei thought to herself as she made her way to Ser Barristan’s quarters. “With luck, he’ll put a babe in her so she can know for certain that she can have them.”
As she knocked on the door, she found it wasn’t entirely shut, and it swung open, revealing a wooden board standing across from it with numerous pieces of parchment pinned to it on which certain phrases were written.
“Stark look, purple eyes, presumably born during the rebellion, found on a ship, good around the dragons,” she read in her head. “What the…”
“Who’s...oh, Missandei,” Ser Barristan said as he spotted her. “Did you get the report I asked for?”
“I did,” Missandei replied. “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s that?”
“Just something I’m trying to convince myself isn’t impossible,” Ser Barristan replied. “Nothing to concern yourself about for now. The report?”
Missandei handed him the scroll, and as he read it, she looked back over at the board, wondering just what it was about.