#camping out across from his house he gave him food and tried to negotiate with him etc until the situation got so bad that

[msmatx]

03.27.23-04.01.23— Week 26 [TLV & a National Strike]

On Sunday we went with my cohort to learn about and visit the Gaza envelope. Immediately upon arriving back at TLV, atlas said he felt sick. At first, he said he was nauseous. Then he said he also had a sore throat. Hero had been sick the few days leading up to our Gaza trip but was feeling better on Sunday so I thought he just had allergies. I immediately got them home and walked to the pharmacy to get strep throat tests. We all tested positive. When I had initially arrived in TLV, Hero’s friend’s mother, Ariela, WhatsApped me with the contact information of a pediatrician who makes house calls. I’ll never forget what she said, “Trust me. You’ll need this someday.” Sure enough, I was frantically messaging him Sunday evening.

He asked me to send photos of the positive tests. Then he agreed to write three prescriptions for each of us and instructed me to pick them up at his apartment at 8pm. Anywhere else in the world, I would have been paranoid by this. Not in Israel. Upon arriving at this apartment, his mother invited me and tried to serve me a snack. But the taxi driver was waiting to take me back. Three prescriptions, no doctor's visit necessary, record time, and at no cost. I went straight to the pharmacy to get the prescriptions filled and then home to get us ready for bed.

I woke up at 3am and checked my phone, which had numerous messages from friends back home indicating something was happening with the anti-reform government movement. During the day on Sunday, Netanyahu fired his Deputy Minister Gallant because Gallant had been vocal against the coalition's push to overhaul the judiciary. The firing was widely unpopular. The protests later that night had grown to the largest size and now included tire burning on the highway. The protests continued through Monday and were widespread across the country. Early Monday morning we were getting notifications of strikes: the banks, malls and stores, transportation, the airport, and schools (Hero’s and mine). It was anxiety-inducing because the situation felt very unpredictable. We were all still feeling under the weather but I made a trip to the grocery store before it shut down. Eventually, we mustered enough energy to sit at the beach for a few hours. On our walk there, Atlas noted that it felt like Shabbat; the streets were eerily empty for a Monday. Many people were waiting for Netanyahu to announce a half to the government reform bill until after the Passover break. That announcement didn’t come until 8pm. While it was a relief once it came, there was a palpable level of exhaustion for a few days after. And many people remain speculative that any meaningful negotiations will come from the cooling-off period.

Our week carried on as usual. Enjoying Midas Chocolates, a chocolatier in our neighborhood. And sushi at Moon on Tuesday.

Hero finally returned to “school” on Wednesday morning. His school was officially on Passover break but his teacher was the lead teacher on Wednesday for the holiday camp. Atlas and I dropped him off and walked around the corner and saw him come out of the school building to the garden. Two of his classmates ran to greet him and his teacher, Alon, gave him a huge hug. Alon has been such a remarkable person in his life this school year. Hero adores his teacher and they share a special bond.

I sent this photo to A+H of me sitting in the hallway before my class. Many of the campus buildings have a resident cat. This one was particularly friendly.

On Wednesday afternoon, Atlas & Hero took the bus alone to meet me at the university. We had dinner at the university food court and then we walked over to the ANU museum on campus to see the Codex Sassoon. The kids loved teasing me that I was making them "see a piece of paper. Ohhhh, see a really old piece of paper." They were not wrong but I was not backing down. And I do believe that they were curious about it once we were there and could read more about the exhibit. It’s not everyday you get to see a 2000+ intact Hebrew bible that is likely to sell this summer for $30-50M.

And on Friday, we headed to the beach for our evening walk.

[1ddiscourseoftheday]

Tues 4 May ‘21

Louis had an added tour date and a bunch of reschedules announce today! Next March in Utah and April in Belgium and Amsterdam and Doncaster-- Spring ‘22 LT Tour it is! Tickets for the Belgium show go on sale Friday. The newly added venues are significantly larger than the ones the tour was originally booked in, to accommodate the growth in his fandom since those first shows were booked. I’m happy for him but we really missed out forever on the tiny venue tour we were supposed to have huh? Sighhhh.

And real pics of Harry on the My Policeman set are here at last! The paps are on site and we are flooded with HQs of filming, SO MANY of them. Yep, he’s really out there in a full cop uniform: it’s a good thing I can distinguish acting from life, unlike most of the people sending anons today, or that would really bother me, though ofc some people who do get that it’s just pretend are also unhappy about him in a role as a cop. The rest are mostly worked up about seeing him standing next to David Dawson and kissing Emma Corrin. Book readers remind us that the awkwardness you’re seeing in that kiss scene is GOOD acting, not bad, as his character is gay and attempting to play straight, with difficulty; I have No Comment with regard to people pointing out that it looks just the same as every other time we’ve seen him canoodle with a woman. At least we can finally put the Harry-is-blond thing to rest though, and next time someone cites THE SUN as a reason to believe something please remember that they told you he had bleached his hair. Also, actor and instagram sensation Leslie Jordan says Harry slid into his DMs and they chatted about acting and specifically My Policeman and Harry’s role. Regarding him ‘playing gay’ Jordan (an out gay actor) says he told him, “well you’re halfway there!”, referring to the way he dresses. Yes; at least halfway!

Niall was also papped, out and about in London with girlfriend Amelia. They’re both in high cuffed white trousers and look like they’re stoically suffering through the process of being photographed. Also he posted a bunch of pics (“NEW CAMERA” and there the camera is, visible in a mirror selfie- it’s a little film camera!) mostly of himself this time, nice. He’s with friends, he’s in the studio making music, he’s hiking a beautiful trail, he’s on the MV set with Anne Marie, he’s looking good!

Jesy from Little Mix said that Liam reached out to her after she left the band to let her know he was available if she wanted to talk. I remember him commenting on it at the time, saying “Zayn left for pretty much the same reasons and I do feel for them,” and I love that he acted on that, that’s so sweet. He also posted about Trussel Trust’s Hunger Free Future campaign to end food insecurity in the UK.

#Harry styles #louis tomlinson #niall horan #liam payne #but Discourse you ask don’t YOU hate cops? Why aren’t you upset about Harry playing one #and thus legitimizing and glamorizing the profession? Well dear reader I’m gonna be honest with you #Harry is a celebrity who I enjoy and find it fun to keep up with and I do truly feel so much love for him #but he occupies a totally different category for me than people I know in real life who work against capitalism and oppression #and my expectations for him are tbh very low #Harry is a caring and well intentioned man who occasionally mentions trendy activist causes #and cares deeply about causes that effect him (ie LGBT stuff) #and he’s also a capitalist and a reformist and he’s not even trying to participate in conversations about restructuring society #nor does anything he’s ever said or done suggest he would support that and many things pretty clearly show the opposite #like I’m sorry: but he will 100% call the cops on us when we have to storm his house with the guillotine :’{( #that said he is SO MUCH better than so many people- for example when he was being stalked and instead of calling the cops on the homeless pe #person #camping out across from his house he gave him food and tried to negotiate with him etc until the situation got so bad that #he was scared and needed to take steps. That’s great! He took pretty much all the steps suggested by ‘don’t call the cops’ trainings #(which sadly do generally end with ‘because society has not yet replaced this institution with alternatives #if you feel physically endangered and would be in less danger from cops and aren't going to get someone shot #you may need to resort to their involvement') #I love him for that! but he’s still ultimately not trying to tear down society and he was offered a great role and took it #and who knows maybe he’ll do great things for the conversation around it he often surprises with his thoughtfulness #as for me #I think it’s actually been really good for me to feel so much affection for these imperfect boys #I’ve always been a pretty intolerant person in real life and quick to write people off for not living up to my standards #learning to clearly perceive someone’s flaws and finding I can still feel love for them has been a really good practice for me tbh #that said they are random celebs who are basically a product you’re buying-- you do not have to feel guilty to unstan! Ever! #Do what supports your journey! But if you’re just moving on to the next celeb I have to warn you they will also disappoint you #the rich cannot save us and are ultimately irrelevant and have much less of interest to say than oppressed people

[mirismuffins-ovo]

Plant Palace pt 8🌿

John felt guilty,he hadn’t expected Eddie to accept him back so easily but it still hurt to feel rejected. John had gone back to his car. It was a colder night but he sleeplessly stayed there for the night. Missing his kids and filled with sadness,what would he tell his kids if he came back and said Eddie didn’t want anything to do for John. He’d felt lonely for such a long time and feared losing the one person he wanted to be with most.

He stayed there for the rest of the night,ignoring his hungry stomach begging for food. John normally went hungry for the sake of the kids when they handed out rations for the camps and he’d gotten into the habit of eating less. His clothes hid that fact for the most part,he had examined Eddie's house,it was nice. Eddie had done well for himself,and he didn’t blame Eddie for being mad at John,he’d ran off after promising they’d have a family together and raise the babies together. Sleeplessly lying in the driver's seat with it reclined thinking about everything.

Eddie groaned as he woke up. Leafy and Bitty were pawing at his legs as he realized where he was. He never left the front entry way and didn’t think about the cats.

“Shit.” He groaned.

He got up, going to feed the cats when Bitty looked up at him and meowed before rubbing up against his leg. Then it all dawned on him.

“SHIT, JOHN!”

He fled his apartment, running outside, seeing maybe the man fell asleep at his apartment complex entry way. He didn’t care if it was early in the morning, He fucked up. He had promised himself over the years that it didn’t matter what happened to John. He wasn’t human so he had to do what the man had to do, and Eddie accepted that when they were dating. Just his own jealousy got in the way. He ran in the opposite direction he walked home in the night before, shouting for John’s name. He didn’t even look in any of the parked cars on the side of the street or alleyways. All he wanted to do was find his old lover and hold him in his arms again and apologize for being a complete dick.

John looked over with restless eyes from his small car seeing Eddie running around seeming to look like he was distressed.He wondered would Eddie really be better off,as he listened to him call his name. It seemed like it from what he said last night but he got out of the car,his eyes burned from crying the whole night but also no sleep. He shut the car door loud enough to let Eddie know to look over. John couldn’t bring himself to look at Eddie.

John leaned on his car,watching the man somberly,hearing the rapid steps from Eddie darting around in frantic search. He’d figured Eddie would be better with someone more normal...after all he said maybe it was better that people like them shouldn’t be together. John had spent all night trying to decide whether he should’ve turned the car around and driven back to camp. He hoped he didn’t choose wrong.

As soon as Eddie heard the car door close, he whipped around seeing the smaller distressed frame of the familiar man. Eddie took off full he speed,as fast as his older body could before flung himself at John, embracing him and swinging him around.

“Thank God you didn’t leave!” Eddie exclaimed in pure joy as he set John down from the spin.

John looked up confused but also trying to hide a blush on his cheeks.

“I know we have a lot to work out, but I am so so sorry for being an ass last night. I had a shitty band practice and so I went to get a few drinks and this one girl kept hitting on me at the bar and then I heard your song on the bus home and I…” Eddie paused himself,pulling the red head in for a hug again. “I’ve missed you so so much..I feel like I’m in Heaven right now seeing you again..” he muttered in a loving tone. Placing a gentle hand on the back of Johns head still holding him.

Eddie was crying tears of joy again. John was alive, John was safe, John was here.

John had frozen shocked by the sudden action,he didn’t know what to say. He felt happier than ever and relieved but still filled with confusion, “I’m sorry..I don’t know what I should say” he muttered in a dry voice,batting his eyes a few times while streams of tears ran down his face. Now in the arms of Eddie tightly burying his face into Eddie's upper shoulder. John's stomach said something for him with a loud growl. He blushed embarrassed and pulled away from the hug to look up at Eddie.

“I missed you Eddie...I should've tried to take you with me” John's pale frail hand wiped a tear falling,from his cheek as he let out a soft shaky breath. His stomach letting out another growl craving food once again.

Eddie just ignored the words for the time being and broke them apart for a quick moment before smooshing their lips together in a super long, 2 year delayed, kiss. It felt good to finally connect this intimately with the person he loved dearly. Suffocating one another in affection,but another growl from John’s stomach snapped them out of it,Eddie snickered as John blushed with embarrassment.

“Come back to my place, I’ll cook something. Plus I’m sure there is someone who’d love to see you right now.” Grabbing John’s hand, Eddie started to drag him in the direction of his house.

When they were reaching his apartment, he forgot to close his door and was afraid the cats got out. He quickly approached the door and looked inside, calling to his two kitty companions. He left John at the door to see if he could still find them.

“Spspspsp” He sounded out and waited. The singer walked in looking around to see Bitty pinning Leafy down who was struggling to move as he wanted to go out the door. “Good kitty! Keeping Leafy inside!” He cooed, getting them treats. “Daddy’s sorry he left in a hurry, I’ll give you extra kibble.” Both cats heard food and started to pour more into their dishes.

“You can come in now.” Eddie called, hearing the footsteps enter his home and close his front door.

Bitty lifted her head up in wonder to see who came inside her home when the kitty smelled an old but familiar smell. “Murrrrp? Merrrrp!” She ditched her food dish and ended up rubbing herself on her old cat dad. She meowed and purred vigorously when John picked her up and started laughing.

“Awww my lil Bits” He held her like a baby and gave her head small kisses “I missed you so much my lil one” he laughed softly and set her down purring loudly as she pranced over to the food bowl “I missed her,Thankyou for taking care of her Eds”

John tiredly sat down on a chair relaxing a bit as Eddie started to cook up breakfast,he looked like he was ready to fall asleep then and there. John was exhausted from his worrying, “your house is really nice,I also like the new cat” he smiled at Eddie from across the table. He fidgeted with his red hair “the girls wanna meet you Eddie..and I can’t stop thinking about it” Johns eyes were closed now,smiling at the thought of his sweet kids “my moms taking care of them right now”

Eddie smiled. “I would love to see them too John…” He got out a couple of plates. “But we need to work out what’s between us. We need to make sure it's really safe for Humans and Abbies to live together and be allowed to love each other. Things have been trying to change for the better between our species, but there’s always that loophole that continues to set everyone back.”

He dished up the food and handed one plate to John who carefully begin to take small bites to ease the food into his stomach. Eddie ate like normal, scratching Leafy’s ear when the kitty decided to beg for his food.

“No, Leaf, go eat your kibble.”

Eddie turned his attention back to John. “So… How have you been, like really been?”

John thought about the question pausing his meal,he normally tried to not think about how he was feeling. “I-...I’m tired,it’s been a rough few years raising the kids...and helping my mom with the rebellion,getting captured then breaking out of a facility.I really lucked out they didn’t find I could have kids,...we aren’t seen as humans in facilities” John gave an awkward laugh attempting to hide his grim recount,before he shoved another bite into his mouth chewing slowly. “It’s been...lonely” John had gotten sick during one of the harsher winters after he had the girls. He let out a deep breath rubbing his burning eyes. “It was actually my mom and the girls who said I should try to come back to see you…I mean I was planning to anyways, but I just wasn’t sure if my mom could watch the kids that long. Or if you’d want to even see me.” John ran his fingers through his petal filled hair,it all stressed him out. “Anyways how've you been…” John didn’t wanna tell Eddie that he longed to continue the dream of having a family with him,getting married and actually carrying the children of Eddie. He knew it would be too much to say,it’d been so long after all. He didn’t wanna rush things too fast and lose him again.

“I’ve been better.” Eddie replied. “Just been working on a new EP with the band. After a few concerts, Greenhouse was a success to my surprise. I guess it resonated with a bunch of people. Some people have called it the ‘Barrier Breaker’, saying it’s what's going to bring the people together.” He shrugged. “But who knows.”

He let out another sigh. “So you’ve mentioned you’ve broken out of a facility. But it’s legal for Humans and Abnormals to live together now. Does this mean you’re a fugitive? Does your Mom know you were taken? What about the girls?” He started spilling questions. But then he stopped.

“Sorry. But if you really are on the run, then we have to figure something out so you’re really free.”

“I was a fugitive,this wasn’t the first time I was in a facility. So when we first met I could technically be considered a fugitive,but after this break out and some political negotiations with the governor. My mother and I with a few others were able to make it legal in this state to live in city’s with regular people.” John took a deep breath trying to not overload Eddie with information. “And now a few other progressive states it’s legal,it’s making its way to the presidential office,so hopefully it’ll be countrywide soon” John had an awkward smile for a moment. “we’re working on the details about Abnormals and Regulars getting married and such” He shrugged and sat back in his chair,”Before we were together,a few years back I did some shit as a teenager that got me put in a facility” clearing his throat he continued “it’s why Quinn blew up when I asked about them taking the babies,but now, I’m not a fugitive,I’m ‘legal’ now”

Eddie felt so relieved, like his heart was mending back together.

“We should talk more but you look like you’re about to pass out. Stay for a few days, rest up and eat. I’m still in the middle of the album so I’ll be in my studio most of the day. If you need to leave…” He looked at John with seriousness, giving a warning in his tone of voice. “Tell me. If you run off again, I won’t be as forgiving.”

He got up, went to take a shower real quick then left for the studio. Eddie was elated that John was back, but he couldn’t forgive him just yet. He needed to mend his broken heart and he knew just how to do it. Eddie dried off and got dressed in pajamas,making his way down the hall. John who’d finished eating and seemed to pass out on Eddies couch.

When he walked into his studio, he got set up, texted his band about what’d happened,then began to strum his guitar. He heard only one song ringing through his head now,the song that had been haunting him for years. He closed his eyes, sliding his finger and plucking the first string, beginning to play Eden.

[aboveallarescuer]

Dany’s problems and actions in her conquest of the three cities

As I was rereading ASOIAF, I made it my goal to compile all* the book passages demonstrating either certain key attributes of Daenerys Targaryen (e.g. that she's compassionate and empathetic) or aspects of hers that are usually overblown (e.g. that she's violent and ambitious).  Doing such a task may seem exaggerated, but I'd argue it's not, for many, many misconceptions about Dany have become widespread in light of the show's final season's events (and even before).

It must be acknowledged that it can be tricky to reference, say, ADWD passages to counter-argument how she was depicted in season eight (which allegedly follows ADOS events). Dany will have had plenty of character development in the span of two books. However, whatever happens to Dany in the next two books, I would argue that there is more than enough material to conclude that her show counterpart was made to fall for flaws that she (for the most part) never had and actions that she (for the most part) would never take.

Another objection to the purpose of these lists is that Game of Thrones is different from A Song of Ice and Fire and should be analyzed on its own, which is a fair point. However, the show is also an adaptation of these books, which begs the questions: why did they change Dany's character? Why did they overfocus on negative traits of hers or depicted them as negative when they weren't supposed to be or gave her negative traits that were never hers to begin with? Another fact that undermines the show=/=books argument is that most people think that the show's ending will be the books', albeit only in broad strokes and in different circumstances. As a result, people's perception of Dany is inevitably influenced by the show, which is a shame.

I hope these lists can be useful for whoever wants to find book passages to defend Dany's character in analysis or even conversations.

 *Well, at least all the passages that I could find.

Also, people may interpret certain passages differently and then come up with a different collection of passages, so I'm not arguing that this list is completely objective (nor that there could ever be one).

Also, some passages have been cut short according to whether they were, IMO, relevant to the specific topic of the list they're in, so the context surrounding them may not always be clear (always read the books!). Many of them appear in different lists, sometimes fully cited, sometimes not. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To justify the existence of this list ... Well, look at the examples of this other list. They justify this one too, lol.

NOTE: This list was tricky to make compared to this one or this one. Originally, it was going to be divided into a list about the problems Dany is facing and another about the actions she took to solve them. However, unlike in ADWD, it is not as clear-and-cut in ASOS. 

Take, for example, ASOS Dany II, when Dany arrives in Astapor and negotiates with Kraznys the purchase of the Unsullied. It is easy to say that that's what she did, but there is no single passage that sums it up. Instead, there are lots of descriptions about the Plaza of Pride and exposition about Old Ghis and the Unsullied's training, with the latter being key to understanding why Dany decides to rebel. What do I add? I decided that more is better than less in this particular case.

ASOS Dany IV also informs a lot through dialogue - the assessment of Yunkai's military forces, Dany's meetings with the sellsword captains, Dany's military plan - and so it would be hard to parse out the problem itself from the solution she takes.

I did manage to separate Dany's problems and actions from the advice she receives, though that often overlaps as well.

This is a long-winded way of saying that this list will be bigger than it should for only covering six chapters.

Dany’s problems and the actions she took

ASOS Daenerys I

“These are Illyrio’s ships, Illyrio’s captains, Illyrio’s sailors ... and Strong Belwas and Arstan are his men as well, not yours.”

“Magister Illyrio has protected me in the past. Strong Belwas says that he wept when he heard my brother was dead.”

“Yes,” said Mormont, “but did he weep for Viserys, or for the plans he had made with him?”

“His plans need not change. Magister Illyrio is a friend to House Targaryen, and wealthy ...”

“He was not born wealthy. In the world as I have seen it, no man grows rich by kindness. The warlocks said the second treason would be for gold. What does Illyrio Mopatis love more than gold?”

“His skin.” Across the cabin Drogon stirred restlessly, steam rising from his snout. “Mirri Maz Duur betrayed me. I burned her for it.”

“Mirri Maz Duur was in your power. In Pentos, you shall be in Illyrio’s power. It is not the same. I know the magister as well as you. He is a devious man, and clever—”

“I need clever men about me if I am to win the Iron Throne.”

Ser Jorah snorted. “That wineseller who tried to poison you was a clever man as well. Clever men hatch ambitious schemes.”

Dany drew her legs up beneath the blanket. “You will protect me. You, and my bloodriders.”

“Four men? Khaleesi, you believe you know Illyrio Mopatis, very well. Yet you insist on surrounding yourself with men you do not know, like this puffed-up eunuch and the world’s oldest squire. Take a lesson from Pyat Pree and Xaro Xhoan Daxos.”

He means well, Dany reminded herself. He does all he does for love. “It seems to me that a queen who trusts no one is as foolish as a queen who trusts everyone. Every man I take into my service is a risk, I understand that, but how am I to win the Seven Kingdoms without such risks? Am I to conquer Westeros with one exile knight and three Dothraki bloodriders?”

His jaw set stubbornly. “Your path is dangerous, I will not deny that. But if you blindly trust in every liar and schemer who crosses it, you will end as your brothers did.”

His obstinacy made her angry. He treats me like some child. “Strong Belwas could not scheme his way to breakfast. And what lies has Arstan Whitebeard told me?”

“He is not what he pretends to be. He speaks to you more boldly than any squire would dare.”

“He spoke frankly at my command. He knew my brother.”

“A great many men knew your brother. Your Grace, in Westeros the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard sits on the small council, and serves the king with his wits as well as his steel. If I am the first of your Queensguard, I pray you, hear me out. I have a plan to put to you.”

“What plan? Tell me.”


“Illyrio Mopatis wants you back in Pentos, under his roof. Very well, go to him ... but in your own time, and not alone. Let us see how loyal and obedient these new subjects of yours truly are. Command Groleo to change course for Slaver’s Bay.”

Dany was not certain she liked the sound of that at all. Everything she’d ever heard of the flesh marts in the great slave cities of Yunkai, Meereen, and Astapor was dire and frightening. “What is there for me in Slaver’s Bay?”

“An army,” said Ser Jorah. “If Strong Belwas is so much to your liking you can buy hundreds more like him out of the fighting pits of Meereen ... but it is Astapor I’d set my sails for. In Astapor you can buy Unsullied.”

“The slaves in the spiked bronze hats?” Dany had seen Unsullied guards in the Free Cities, posted at the gates of magisters, archons, and dynasts. “Why should I want Unsullied? They don’t even ride horses, and most of them are fat.”

“The Unsullied you may have seen in Pentos and Myr were household guards. That’s soft service, and eunuchs tend to plumpness in any case. Food is the only vice allowed them. To judge all Unsullied by a few old household slaves is like judging all squires by Arstan Whitebeard, Your Grace. Do you know the tale of the Three Thousand of Qohor?”

“No.” The coverlet slipped off Dany’s shoulder, and she tugged it back into place.

“It was four hundred years ago or more, when the Dothraki first rode out of the east, sacking and burning every town and city in their path. The khal who led them was named Temmo. His khalasar was not so big as Drogo’s, but it was big enough. Fifty thousand, at the least. Half of them braided warriors with bells ringing in their hair.

“The Qohorik knew he was coming. They strengthened their walls, doubled the size of their own guard, and hired two free companies besides, the Bright Banners and the Second Sons. And almost as an afterthought, they sent a man to Astapor to buy three thousand Unsullied. It was a long march back to Qohor, however, and as they approached they saw the smoke and dust and heard the distant din of battle.

“By the time the Unsullied reached the city the sun had set. Crows and wolves were feasting beneath the walls on what remained of the Qohorik heavy horse. The Bright Banners and Second Sons had fled, as sellswords are wont to do in the face of hopeless odds. With dark falling, the Dothraki had retired to their own camps to drink and dance and feast, but none doubted that they would return on the morrow to smash the city gates, storm the walls, and rape, loot, and slave as they pleased.

“But when dawn broke and Temmo and his bloodriders led their khalasar out of camp, they found three thousand Unsullied drawn up before the gates with the Black Goat standard flying over their heads. So small a force could easily have been flanked, but you know Dothraki. These were men on foot, and men on foot are fit only to be ridden down.

“The Dothraki charged. The Unsullied locked their shields, lowered their spears, and stood firm. Against twenty thousand screamers with bells in their hair, they stood firm.

“Eighteen times the Dothraki charged, and broke themselves on those shields and spears like waves on a rocky shore. Thrice Temmo sent his archers wheeling past and arrows fell like rain upon the Three Thousand, but the Unsullied merely lifted their shields above their heads until the squall had passed. In the end only six hundred of them remained ... but more than twelve thousand Dothraki lay dead upon that field, including Khal Temmo, his bloodriders, his kos, and all his sons. On the morning of the fourth day, the new khal led the survivors past the city gates in a stately procession. One by one, each man cut off his braid and threw it down before the feet of the Three Thousand.

“Since that day, the city guard of Qohor has been made up solely of Unsullied, every one of whom carries a tall spear from which hangs a braid of human hair.

“That is what you will find in Astapor, Your Grace. Put ashore there, and continue on to Pentos overland. It will take longer, yes ... but when you break bread with Magister Illyrio, you will have a thousand swords behind you, not just four.”

There is wisdom in this, yes, Dany thought, but ... “How am I to buy a thousand slave soldiers? All I have of value is the crown the Tourmaline Brotherhood gave me.”

“Dragons will be as great a wonder in Astapor as they were in Qarth. It may be that the slavers will shower you with gifts, as the Qartheen did. If not ... these ships carry more than your Dothraki and their horses. They took on trade goods at Qarth, I’ve been through the holds and seen for myself. Bolts of silk and bales of tiger skin, amber and jade carvings, saffron, myrrh ... slaves are cheap, Your Grace. Tiger skins are costly.”

“Those are Illyrio’s tiger skins,” she objected.
“And Illyrio is a friend to House Targaryen.”
“All the more reason not to steal his goods.”
“What use are wealthy friends if they will not put their wealth at your disposal, my queen? If Magister Illyrio would deny you, he is only Xaro Xhoan Daxos with four chins. And if he is sincere in his devotion to your cause, he will not begrudge you three shiploads of trade goods. What better use for his tiger skins than to buy you the beginnings of an army?”

That’s true. Dany felt a rising excitement. “There will be dangers on such a long march ...”

“There are dangers at sea as well. Corsairs and pirates hunt the southern route, and north of Valyria the Smoking Sea is demon- haunted. The next storm could sink or scatter us, a kraken could pull us under ... or we might find ourselves becalmed again, and die of thirst as we wait for the wind to rise. A march will have different dangers, my queen, but none greater.”

“What if Captain Groleo refuses to change course, though? And Arstan, Strong Belwas, what will they do?”

Ser Jorah stood. “Perhaps it’s time you found that out.”

“Yes,” she decided. “I’ll do it!”

 ASOS Daenerys II

“Tell the Westerosi whore to lower her eyes,” the slaver Kraznys mo Nakloz complained to the slave girl who spoke for him. “I deal in meat, not metal. The bronze is not for sale. Tell her to look at the soldiers. Even the dim purple eyes of a sunset savage can see how magnificent my creatures are, surely.”

Kraznys’s High Valyrian was twisted and thickened by the characteristic growl of Ghis, and flavored here and there with words of slaver argot. Dany understood him well enough, but she smiled and looked blankly at the slave girl, as if wondering what he might have said.

‘The Good Master Kraznys asks, are they not magnificent?” The girl spoke the Common Tongue well, for one who had never been to Westeros. No older than ten, she had the round flat face, dusky skin, and golden eyes of Naath. The Peaceful People, her folk were called. All agreed that they made the best slaves.

“They might be adequate to my needs,” Dany answered. It had been Ser Jorah’s suggestion that she speak only Dothraki and the Common Tongue while in Astapor. My bear is more clever than he looks. “Tell me of their training.”

“The Westerosi woman is pleased with them, but speaks no praise, to keep the price down,” the translator told her master. “She wishes to know how they were trained.”

Kraznys mo Nakloz bobbed his head. He smelled as if he’d bathed in raspberries, this slaver, and his jutting red-black beard glistened with oil. He has larger breasts than I do, Dany reflected. She could see them through the thin sea-green silk of the gold- fringed tokar he wound about his body and over one shoulder. His left hand held the tokar in place as he walked, while his right clasped a short leather whip. “Are all Westerosi pigs so ignorant?” he complained. “All the world knows that the Unsullied are masters of spear and shield and shortsword.” He gave Dany a broad smile. “Tell her what she would know, slave, and be quick about it. The day is hot.”

That much at least is no lie. A matched pair of slave girls stood behind them, holding a striped silk awning over their heads, but even in the shade Dany felt light-headed, and Kraznys was perspiring freely. The Plaza of Pride had been baking in the sun since dawn. Even through the thickness of her sandals, she could feel the warmth of the red bricks underfoot. Waves of heat rose off them shimmering to make the stepped pyramids of Astapor around the plaza seem half a dream.

If the Unsullied felt the heat, however, they gave no hint of it. They could be made of brick themselves, the way they stand there. A thousand had been marched out of their barracks for her inspection; drawn up in ten ranks of one hundred before the fountain and its great bronze harpy, they stood stiffly at attention, their stony eyes fixed straight ahead. They wore nought but white linen clouts knotted about their loins, and conical bronze helms topped with a sharpened spike a foot tall. Kraznys had commanded them to lay down their spears and shields, and doff their swordbelts and quilted tunics, so the Queen of Westeros might better inspect the lean hardness of their bodies.

“They are chosen young, for size and speed and strength,” the slave told her. “They begin their training at five. Every day they train from dawn to dusk, until they have mastered the shortsword, the shield, and the three spears. The training is most rigorous, Your Grace. Only one boy in three survives it. This is well known. Among the Unsullied it is said that on the day they win their spiked cap, the worst is done with, for no duty that will ever fall to them could be as hard as their training.”

Kraznys mo Nakloz supposedly spoke no word of the Common Tongue, but he bobbed his head as he listened, and from time to time gave the slave girl a poke with the end of his lash. “Tell her that these have been standing here for a day and a night, with no food nor water. Tell her that they will stand until they drop if I should command it, and when nine hundred and ninety-nine have collapsed to die upon the bricks, the last will stand there still, and never move until his own death claims him. Such is their courage. Tell her that.”

“I call that madness, not courage,” said Arstan Whitebeard, when the solemn little scribe was done. He tapped the end of his hardwood staff against the bricks, tap tap, as if to tell his displeasure. The old man had not wanted to sail to Astapor; nor did he favor buying this slave army. A queen should hear all sides before reaching a decision. That was why Dany had brought him with her to the Plaza of Pride, not to keep her safe. Her bloodriders would do that well enough. Ser Jorah Mormont she had left aboard Balerion to guard her people and her dragons. Much against her inclination, she had locked the dragons belowdecks. It was too dangerous to let them fly freely over the city; the world was all too full of men who would gladly kill them for no better reason than to name themselves dragonslayer.

“What did the smelly old man say?” the slaver demanded of his translator. When she told him, he smiled and said, “Inform the savages that we call this obedience. Others may be stronger or quicker or larger than the Unsullied. Some few may even equal their skill with sword and spear and shield. But nowhere between the seas will you ever find any more obedient.”

“Sheep are obedient,” said Arstan when the words had been translated. He had some Valyrian as well, though not so much as Dany, but like her he was feigning ignorance.

Kraznys mo Nakloz showed his big white teeth when that was rendered back to him. “A word from me and these sheep would spill his stinking old bowels on the bricks,” he said, “but do not say that. Tell them that these creatures are more dogs than sheep. Do they eat dogs or horse in these Seven Kingdoms?”

“They prefer pigs and cows, your worship.”

“Beef. Pfag. Food for unwashed savages.”

Ignoring them all, Dany walked slowly down the line of slave soldiers. The girls followed close behind with the silk awning, to keep her in the shade, but the thousand men before her enjoyed no such protection. More than half had the copper skins and almond eyes of Dothraki and Lhazerene, but she saw men of the Free Cities in the ranks as well, along with pale Qartheen, ebon-faced Summer Islanders, and others whose origins she could not guess. And some had skins of the same amber hue as Kraznys mo Nakloz, and the bristly red-black hair that marked the ancient folk of Ghis, who named themselves the harpy’s sons. They sell even their own kind. It should not have surprised her. The Dothraki did the same, when khalasar met khalasar in the sea of grass.

Some of the soldiers were tall and some were short. They ranged in age from fourteen to twenty, she judged. Their cheeks were smooth, and their eyes all the same, be they black or brown or blue or grey or amber. They are like one man, Dany thought, until she remembered that they were no men at all. The Unsullied were eunuchs, every one of them. “Why do you cut them?” she asked Kraznys through the slave girl. “Whole men are stronger than eunuchs, I have always heard.”

“A eunuch who is cut young will never have the brute strength of one of your Westerosi knights, this is true,” said Kraznys mo Nakloz when the question was put to him. “A bull is strong as well, but bulls die every day in the fighting pits. A girl of nine killed one not three days past in Jothiel’s Pit. The Unsullied have something better than strength, tell her. They have discipline. We fight in the fashion of the Old Empire, yes. They are the lockstep legions of Old Ghis come again, absolutely obedient, absolutely loyal, and utterly without fear.”

Dany listened patiently to the translation.
“Even the bravest men fear death and maiming,” Arstan said when the girl was done.

Kraznys smiled again when he heard that. “Tell the old man that he smells of piss, and needs a stick to hold him up.”

“Truly, your worship?”

He poked her with his lash. “No, not truly, are you a girl or a goat, to ask such folly? Say that Unsullied are not men. Say that death means nothing to them, and maiming less than nothing.” He stopped before a thickset man who had the look of Lhazar about him and brought his whip up sharply, laying a line of blood across one copper cheek. The eunuch blinked, and stood there, bleeding. “Would you like another?” asked Kraznys.

“If it please your worship.”

It was hard to pretend not to understand. Dany laid a hand on Kraznys’s arm before he could raise the whip again. “Tell the Good Master that I see how strong his Unsullied are, and how bravely they suffer pain.”

Kraznys chuckled when he heard her words in Valyrian. “Tell this ignorant whore of a westerner that courage has nothing to do with it.”

“The Good Master says that was not courage, Your Grace.”

“Tell her to open those slut’s eyes of hers.”
“He begs you attend this carefully, Your Grace.”

Kraznys moved to the next eunuch in line, a towering youth with the blue eyes and flaxen hair of Lys. “Your sword,” he said. The eunuch knelt, unsheathed the blade, and offered it up hilt first. It was a shortsword, made more for stabbing than for slashing, but the edge looked razor-sharp. “Stand,” Kraznys commanded.

“Your worship.” The eunuch stood, and Kraznys mo Nakloz slid the sword slowly up his torso, leaving a thin red line across his belly and between his ribs. Then he jabbed the swordpoint in beneath a wide pink nipple and began to work it back and forth.

“What is he doing?” Dany demanded of the girl, as the blood ran down the man’s chest.

“Tell the cow to stop her bleating,” said Kraznys, without waiting for the translation. “This will do him no great harm. Men have no need of nipples, eunuchs even less so.” The nipple hung by a thread of skin. He slashed, and sent it tumbling to the bricks, leaving behind a round red eye copiously weeping blood. The eunuch did not move, until Kraznys offered him back his sword, hilt first. “Here, I’m done with you.”

“This one is pleased to have served you.”

Kraznys turned back to Dany. “They feel no pain, you see.”

“How can that be?” she demanded through the scribe.

“The wine of courage,” was the answer he gave her. “It is no true wine at all, but made from deadly nightshade, bloodfly larva, black lotus root, and many secret things. They drink it with every meal from the day they are cut, and with each passing year feel less and less. It makes them fearless in battle. Nor can they be tortured. Tell the savage her secrets are safe with the Unsullied. She may set them to guard her councils and even her bedchamber, and never a worry as to what they might overhear.

“In Yunkai and Meereen, eunuchs are often made by removing a boy’s testicles, but leaving the penis. Such a creature is infertile, yet often still capable of erection. Only trouble can come of this. We remove the penis as well, leaving nothing. The Unsullied are the purest creatures on the earth.” He gave Dany and Arstan another of his broad white smiles. “I have heard that in the Sunset Kingdoms men take solemn vows to keep chaste and father no children, but live only for their duty. Is it not so?”

“It is,” Arstan said, when the question was put. “There are many such orders. The maesters of the Citadel, the septons and septas who serve the Seven, the silent sisters of the dead, the Kingsguard and the Night’s Watch ...”

“Poor things,” growled the slaver, after the translation. “Men were not made to live thus. Their days are a torment of temptation, any fool must see, and no doubt most succumb to their baser selves. Not so our Unsullied. They are wed to their swords in a way that your Sworn Brothers cannot hope to match. No woman can ever tempt them, nor any man.”

His girl conveyed the essence of his speech, more politely. “There are other ways to tempt men, besides the flesh,” Arstan Whitebeard objected, when she was done.

“Men, yes, but not Unsullied. Plunder interests them no more than rape. They own nothing but their weapons. We do not even permit them names.”

“No names?” Dany frowned at the little scribe. “Can that be what the Good Master said? They have no names?”

“It is so, Your Grace.”

Kraznys stopped in front of a Ghiscari who might have been his taller fitter brother, and flicked his lash at a small bronze disk on the swordbelt at his feet. “There is his name. Ask the whore of Westeros whether she can read Ghiscari glyphs.” When Dany admitted that she could not, the slaver turned to the Unsullied. “What is your name?” he demanded.

“This one’s name is Red Flea, your worship.”

The girl repeated their exchange in the Common Tongue. “And yesterday, what was it?”

“Black Rat, your worship.”

“The day before?”

“Brown Flea, your worship.”

“Before that?”

“This one does not recall, your worship. Blue Toad, perhaps. Or Blue Worm.”

“Tell her all their names are such,” Kraznys commanded the girl. “It reminds them that by themselves they are vermin. The name disks are thrown in an empty cask at duty’s end, and each dawn plucked up again at random.”

“More madness,” said Arstan, when he heard. “How can any man possibly remember a new name every day?”

“Those who cannot are culled in training, along with those who cannot run all day in full pack, scale a mountain in the black of night, walk across a bed of coals, or slay an infant.”

Dany’s mouth surely twisted at that. Did he see, or is he blind as well as cruel? She turned away quickly, trying to keep her face a mask until she heard the translation. Only then did she allow herself to say, “Whose infants do they slay?”

“To win his spiked cap, an Unsullied must go to the slave marts with a silver mark, find some wailing newborn, and kill it before its mother’s eyes. In this way, we make certain that there is no weakness left in them.”

She was feeling faint. The heat, she tried to tell herself. “You take a babe from its mother’s arms, kill it as she watches, and pay for her pain with a silver coin?”

When the translation was made for him, Kraznys mo Nakloz laughed aloud. “What a soft mewling fool this one is. Tell the whore of Westeros that the mark is for the child’s owner, not the mother. The Unsullied are not permitted to steal.” He tapped his whip against his leg. “Tell her that few ever fail that test. The dogs are harder for them, it must be said. We give each boy a puppy on the day that he is cut. At the end of the first year, he is required to strangle it. Any who cannot are killed, and fed to the surviving dogs. It makes for a good strong lesson, we find.”

Arstan Whitebeard tapped the end of his staff on the bricks as he listened to that. Tap tap tap. Slow and steady. Tap tap tap. Dany saw him turn his eyes away, as if he could not bear to look at Kraznys any longer.

“The Good Master has said that these eunuchs cannot be tempted with coin or flesh,” Dany told the girl, “but if some enemy of mine should offer them freedom for betraying me ...”

“They would kill him out of hand and bring her his head, tell her that,” the slaver answered. “Other slaves may steal and hoard up silver in hopes of buying freedom, but an Unsullied would not take it if the little mare offered it as a gift. They have no life outside their duty. They are soldiers, and that is all.”

“It is soldiers I need,” Dany admitted.

“Tell her it is well she came to Astapor, then. Ask her how large an army she wishes to buy.”

“How many Unsullied do you have to sell?”

“Eight thousand fully trained and available at present. We sell them only by the unit, she should know. By the thousand or the century. Once we sold by the ten, as household guards, but that proved unsound. Ten is too few. They mingle with other slaves, even freemen, and forget who and what they are.” Kraznys waited for that to be rendered in the Common Tongue, and then continued. “This beggar queen must understand, such wonders do not come cheaply. In Yunkai and Meereen, slave swordsmen can be had for less than the price of their swords, but Unsullied are the finest foot in all the world, and each represents many years of training. Tell her they are like Valyrian steel, folded over and over and hammered for years on end, until they are stronger and more resilient than any metal on earth.”

“I know of Valyrian steel,” said Dany. “Ask the Good Master if the Unsullied have their own officers.”

“You must set your own officers over them. We train them to obey, not to think. If it is wits she wants, let her buy scribes.”

“And their gear?”

“Sword, shield, spear, sandals, and quilted tunic are included,” said Kraznys. “And the spiked caps, to be sure. They will wear such armor as you wish, but you must provide it.”

Dany could think of no other questions. She looked at Arstan. “You have lived long in the world, Whitebeard. Now that you have seen them, what do you say?”

“I say no, Your Grace,” the old man answered at once.


“Why?” she asked. “Speak freely.” Dany thought she knew what he would say, but she wanted the slave girl to hear, so Kraznys mo Nakloz might hear later.

“My queen,” said Arstan, “there have been no slaves in the Seven Kingdoms for thousands of years. The old gods and the new alike hold slavery to be an abomination. Evil. If you should land in Westeros at the head of a slave army, many good men will oppose you for no other reason than that. You will do great harm to your cause, and to the honor of your House.”

“Yet I must have some army,” Dany said. “The boy Joffrey will not give me the Iron Throne for asking politely.”

“When the day comes that you raise your banners, half of Westeros will be with you,” Whitebeard promised. “Your brother Rhaegar is still remembered, with great love.”

“And my father?” Dany said.

The old man hesitated before saying, “King Aerys is also remembered. He gave the realm many years of peace. Your Grace, you have no need of slaves. Magister Illyrio can keep you safe while your dragons grow, and send secret envoys across the narrow sea on your behalf, to sound out the high lords for your cause.”

“Those same high lords who abandoned my father to the Kingslayer and bent the knee to Robert the Usurper?”

“Even those who bent their knees may yearn in their hearts for the return of the dragons.”

“May,” said Dany. That was such a slippery word, may. In any language. She turned back to Kraznys mo Nakloz and his slave girl. “I must consider carefully.”

The slaver shrugged. “Tell her to consider quickly. There are many other buyers. Only three days past I showed these same Unsullied to a corsair king who hopes to buy them all.”

“The corsair wanted only a hundred, your worship,” Dany heard the slave girl say.

He poked her with the end of the whip. “Corsairs are all liars. He’ll buy them all. Tell her that, girl.”

Dany knew she would take more than a hundred, if she took any at all. “Remind your Good Master of who I am. Remind him that I am Daenerys Stormborn, Mother of Dragons, the Unburnt, trueborn queen of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. My blood is the blood of Aegon the Conqueror, and of old Valyria before him.”

Yet her words did not move the plump perfumed slaver, even when rendered in his own ugly tongue. “Old Ghis ruled an empire when the Valyrians were still fucking sheep,” he growled at the poor little scribe, “and we are the sons of the harpy.” He gave a shrug. “My tongue is wasted wagging at women. East or west, it makes no matter, they cannot decide until they have been pampered and flattered and stuffed with sweetmeats. Well, if this is my fate, so be it. Tell the whore that if she requires a guide to our sweet city, Kraznys mo Nakloz will gladly serve her ... and service her as well, if she is more woman than she looks.”

“Good Master Kraznys would be most pleased to show you Astapor while you ponder, Your Grace,” the translator said.

“I will feed her jellied dog brains, and a fine rich stew of red octopus and unborn puppy.” He wiped his lips.

“Many delicious dishes can be had here, he says.”

“Tell her how pretty the pyramids are at night,” the slaver growled. “Tell her I will lick honey off her breasts, or allow her to lick honey off mine if she prefers.”

“Astapor is most beautiful at dusk, Your Grace,” said the slave girl. “The Good Masters light silk lanterns on every terrace, so all the pyramids glow with colored lights. Pleasure barges ply the Worm, playing soft music and calling at the little islands for food and wine and other delights.”

“Ask her if she wishes to view our fighting pits,” Kraznys added. “Douquor’s Pit has a fine folly scheduled for the evening. A bear and three small boys. One boy will be rolled in honey, one in blood, and one in rotting fish, and she may wager on which the bear will eat first.”

Tap tap tap, Dany heard. Arstan Whitebeard’s face was still, but his staff beat out his rage. Tap tap tap. She made herself smile. “I have my own bear on Balerion,” she told the translator, “and he may well eat me if I do not return to him.”

“See,” said Kraznys when her words were translated. “It is not the woman who decides, it is this man she runs to. As ever!”

“Thank the Good Master for his patient kindness,” Dany said, “and tell him that I will think on all I learned here.” She gave her arm to Arstan Whitebeard, to lead her back across the plaza to her litter. Aggo and Jhogo fell in to either side of them, walking with the bowlegged swagger all the horselords affected when forced to dismount and stride the earth like common mortals.

Dany climbed into her litter frowning, and beckoned Arstan to climb in beside her. A man as old as him should not be walking in such heat. She did not close the curtains as they got under way. With the sun beating down so fiercely on this city of red brick, every stray breeze was to be cherished, even if it did come with a swirl of fine red dust. Besides, I need to see.

Astapor was a queer city, even to the eyes of one who had walked within the House of Dust and bathed in the Womb of the World beneath the Mother of Mountains. All the streets were made of the same red brick that had paved the plaza. So too were the stepped pyramids, the deep-dug fighting pits with their rings of descending seats, the sulfurous fountains and gloomy wine caves, and the ancient walls that encircled them. So many bricks, she thought, and so old and crumbling. Their fine red dust was everywhere, dancing down the gutters at each gust of wind. Small wonder so many Astapori women veiled their faces; the brick dust stung the eyes worse than sand.

“Make way!” Jhogo shouted as he rode before her litter. “Make way for the Mother of Dragons!” But when he uncoiled the great silverhandled whip that Dany had given him, and made to crack it in the air, she leaned out and told him nay. “Not in this place, blood of my blood,” she said, in his own tongue. “These bricks have heard too much of the sound of whips.”

The streets had been largely deserted when they had set out from the port that morning, and scarcely seemed more crowded now. An elephant lumbered past with a latticework litter on its back. A naked boy with peeling skin sat in a dry brick gutter, picking his nose and staring sullenly at some ants in the street. He lifted his head at the sound of hooves, and gaped as a column of mounted guards trotted by in a cloud of red dust and brittle laughter. The copper disks sewn to their cloaks of yellow silk glittered like so many suns, but their tunics were embroidered linen, and below the waist they wore sandals and pleated linen skirts. Bareheaded, each man had teased and oiled and twisted his stiff red- black hair into some fantastic shape, horns and wings and blades and even grasping hands, so they looked like some troupe of demons escaped from the seventh hell. The naked boy watched them for a bit, along with Dany, but soon enough they were gone, and he went back to his ants, and a knuckle up his nose.

An old city, this, she reflected, but not so populous as it was in its glory, nor near so crowded as Qarth or Pentos or Lys.

Her litter came to a sudden halt at the cross street, to allow a coffle of slaves to shuffle across her path, urged along by the crack of an overseer’s lash. These were no Unsullied, Dany noted, but a more common sort of men, with pale brown skins and black hair. There were women among them, but no children. All were naked. Two Astapori rode behind them on white asses, a man in a red silk tokar and a veiled woman in sheer blue linen decorated with flakes of lapis lazuli. In her red-black hair she wore an ivory comb. The man laughed as he whispered to her, paying no more mind to Dany than to his slaves, nor the overseer with his twisted five-thonged lash, a squat broad Dothraki who had the harpy and chains tattooed proudly across his muscular chest.

 [...]Aggo helped Dany down from her litter. Strong Belwas was seated on a massive piling, eating a great haunch of brown roasted meat. “Dog,” he said happily when he saw Dany. “Good dog in Astapor, little queen. Eat?” He offered it with a greasy grin.

“That is kind of you, Belwas, but no.” Dany had eaten dog in other places, at other times, but just now all she could think of was the Unsullied and their stupid puppies. She swept past the huge eunuch and up the plank onto the deck of Balerion.

Ser Jorah Mormont stood waiting for her. “Your Grace,” he said, bowing his head. “The slavers have come and gone. Three of them, with a dozen scribes and as many slaves to lift and fetch. They crawled over every foot of our holds and made note of all we had.” He walked her aft. “How many men do they have for sale?”

“None.” Was it Mormont she was angry with, or this city with its sullen heat, its stinks and sweats and crumbling bricks? “They sell eunuchs, not men. Eunuchs made of brick, like the rest of Astapor. Shall I buy eight thousand brick eunuchs with dead eyes that never move, who kill suckling babes for the sake of a spiked hat and strangle their own dogs? They don’t even have names. So don’t call them men, ser.”

“Khaleesi,” he said, taken aback by her fury, “the Unsullied are chosen as boys, and trained—”

“I have heard all I care to of their training.” Dany could feel tears welling in her eyes, sudden and unwanted. Her hand flashed up and cracked Ser Jorah hard across the face. It was either that, or cry.

Mormont touched the cheek she’d slapped. “If I have displeased my queen—”

“You have. You’ve displeased me greatly, ser. If you were my true knight, you would never have brought me to this vile sty.” If you were my true knight, you would never have kissed me, or looked at my breasts the way you did, or ...

“As Your Grace commands. I shall tell Captain Groleo to make ready to sail on the evening tide, for some sty less vile.”

“No,” said Dany. Groleo watched them from the forecastle, and his crew was watching too. Whitebeard, her bloodriders, Jhiqui, every one had stopped what they were doing at the sound of the slap. “I want to sail now, not on the tide, I want to sail far and fast and never look back. But I can’t, can I? There are eight thousand brick eunuchs for sale, and I must find some way to buy them.” And with that she left him, and went below.

[...] Dusk had begun to settle over the waters of Slaver’s Bay before Dany returned to the deck. She stood by the rail and looked out over Astapor. From here it looks almost beautiful, she thought. The stars were coming out above, and the silk lanterns below, just as Kraznys’s translator had promised. The brick pyramids were all glimmery with light. But it is dark below, in the streets and plazas and fighting pits. And it is darkest of all in the barracks, where some little boy is feeding scraps to the puppy they gave him when they took away his manhood.

There was a soft step behind her. “Khaleesi.” His voice. “Might I speak frankly?”

Dany did not turn. She could not bear to look at him just now. If she did, she might well slap him again. Or cry. Or kiss him. And never know which was right and which was wrong and which was madness. “Say what you will, ser.”

“When Aegon the Dragon stepped ashore in Westeros, the kings of Vale and Rock and Reach did not rush to hand him their crowns. If you mean to sit his Iron Throne, you must win it as he did, with steel and dragonfire. And that will mean blood on your hands before the thing is done.”

Blood and fire, thought Dany. The words of House Targaryen. She had known them all her life. “The blood of my enemies I will shed gladly. The blood of innocents is another matter. Eight thousand Unsullied they would offer me. Eight thousand dead babes. Eight thousand strangled dogs.”

“Your Grace,” said Jorah Mormont, “I saw King’s Landing after the Sack. Babes were butchered that day as well, and old men, and children at play. More women were raped than you can count. There is a savage beast in every man, and when you hand that man a sword or spear and send him forth to war, the beast stirs. The scent of blood is all it takes to wake him. Yet I have never heard of these Unsullied raping, nor putting a city to the sword, nor even plundering, save at the express command of those who lead them. Brick they may be, as you say, but if you buy them henceforth the only dogs they’ll kill are those you want dead. And you do have some dogs you want dead, as I recall.”

The Usurper’s dogs. “Yes.” Dany gazed off at the soft colored lights and let the cool salt breeze caress her. “You speak of sacking cities. Answer me this, ser—why have the Dothraki never sacked this city?” She pointed. “Look at the walls. You can see where they’ve begun to crumble. There, and there. Do you see any guards on those towers? I don’t. Are they hiding, ser? I saw these sons of the harpy today, all their proud highborn warriors. They dressed in linen skirts, and the fiercest thing about them was their hair. Even a modest khalasar could crack this Astapor like a nut and spill out the rotted meat inside. So tell me, why is that ugly harpy not sitting beside the godsway in Vaes Dothrak among the other stolen gods?”

“You have a dragon’s eye, Khaleesi, that’s plain to see.”

“I wanted an answer, not a compliment.”

“There are two reasons. Astapor’s brave defenders are so much chaff, it’s true. Old names and fat purses who dress up as Ghiscari scourges to pretend they still rule a vast empire. Every one is a high officer. On feastdays they fight mock wars in the pits to demonstrate what brilliant commanders they are, but it’s the eunuchs who do the dying. All the same, any enemy wanting to sack Astapor would have to know that they’d be facing Unsullied. The slavers would turn out the whole garrison in the city’s defense. The Dothraki have not ridden against Unsullied since they left their braids at the gates of Qohor.”

“And the second reason?” Dany asked.

“Who would attack Astapor?” Ser Jorah asked. “Meereen and Yunkai are rivals but not enemies, the Doom destroyed Valyria, the folk of the eastern hinterlands are all Ghiscari, and beyond the hills lies Lhazar. The Lamb Men, as your Dothraki call them, a notably unwarlike people.”

“Yes,” she agreed, “but north of the slave cities is the Dothraki sea, and two dozen mighty khals who like nothing more than sacking cities and carrying off their people into slavery.”

“Carrying them off where? What good are slaves once you’ve killed the slavers? Valyria is no more, Qarth lies beyond the red waste, and the Nine Free Cities are thousands of leagues to the west. And you may be sure the sons of the harpy give lavishly to every passing khal, just as the magisters do in Pentos and Norvos and Myr. They know that if they feast the horselords and give them gifts, they will soon ride on. It’s cheaper than fighting, and a deal more certain.”

Cheaper than fighting, Dany thought. Yes, it might be. If only it could be that easy for her. How pleasant it would be to sail to King’s Landing with her dragons, and pay the boy Joffrey a chest of gold to make him go away.

“Khaleesi?” Ser Jorah prompted, when she had been silent for a long time. He touched her elbow lightly.

Dany shrugged him off. “Viserys would have bought as many Unsullied as he had the coin for. But you once said I was like Rhaegar ...”

“I remember, Daenerys.”

“Your Grace,” she corrected. “Prince Rhaegar led free men into battle, not slaves. Whitebeard said he dubbed his squires himself, and made many other knights as well.”

“There was no higher honor than to receive your knighthood from the Prince of Dragonstone.”

“Tell me, then—when he touched a man on the shoulder with his sword, what did he say? ‘Go forth and kill the weak’? Or ‘Go forth and defend them’? At the Trident, those brave men Viserys spoke of who died beneath our dragon banners—did they give their lives because they believed in Rhaegar’s cause, or because they had been bought and paid for?” Dany turned to Mormont, crossed her arms, and waited for an answer.

“My queen,” the big man said slowly, “all you say is true. But Rhaegar lost on the Trident. He lost the battle, he lost the war, he lost the kingdom, and he lost his life. His blood swirled downriver with the rubies from his breastplate, and Robert the Usurper rode over his corpse to steal the Iron Throne. Rhaegar fought valiantly, Rhaegar fought nobly, Rhaegar fought honorably. And Rhaegar died.”

 ASOS Daenerys III

“All?” The slave girl sounded wary. “Your Grace, did this one’s worthless ears mishear you?”

[...]“Your ears heard true,” said Dany. “I want to buy them all. Tell the Good Masters, if you will.”

She had chosen a Qartheen gown today. The deep violet silk brought out the purple of her eyes. The cut of it bared her left breast. While the Good Masters of Astapor conferred among themselves in low voices, Dany sipped tart persimmon wine from a tall silver flute. She could not quite make out all that they were saying, but she could hear the greed.

Each of the eight brokers was attended by two or three body slaves ... though one Grazdan, the eldest, had six. So as not to seem a beggar, Dany had brought her own attendants; Irri and Jhiqui in their sandsilk trousers and painted vests, old Whitebeard and mighty Belwas, her bloodriders. Ser Jorah stood behind her sweltering in his green surcoat with the black bear of Mormont embroidered upon it. The smell of his sweat was an earthy answer to the sweet perfumes that drenched the Astapori.

“All,” growled Kraznys mo Nakloz, who smelled of peaches today. The slave girl repeated the word in the Common Tongue of Westeros. “Of thousands, there are eight. Is this what she means by all? There are also six centuries, who shall be part of a ninth thousand when complete. Would she have them too?”

“I would,” said Dany when the question was put to her. “The eight thousands, the six centuries ... and the ones still in training as well. The ones who have not earned the spikes.”

Kraznys turned back to his fellows. Once again they conferred among themselves. The translator had told Dany their names, but it was hard to keep them straight. Four of the men seemed to be named Grazdan, presumably after Grazdan the Great who had founded Old Ghis in the dawn of days. They all looked alike; thick fleshy men with amber skin, broad noses, dark eyes. Their wiry hair was black, or a dark red, or that queer mixture of red and black that was peculiar to Ghiscari. All wrapped themselves in tokars, a garment permitted only to freeborn men of Astapor.

It was the fringe on the tokar that proclaimed a man’s status, Dany had been told by Captain Groleo. In this cool green room atop the pyramid, two of the slavers wore tokars fringed in silver, five had gold fringes, and one, the oldest Grazdan, displayed a fringe of fat white pearls that clacked together softly when he shifted in his seat or moved an arm.

“We cannot sell half-trained boys,” one of the silver-fringe Grazdans was saying to the others.

“We can, if her gold is good,” said a fatter man whose fringe was gold.

“They are not Unsullied. They have not killed their sucklings. If they fail in the field, they will shame us. And even if we cut five thousand raw boys tomorrow, it would be ten years before they are fit for sale. What would we tell the next buyer who comes seeking Unsullied?”

“We will tell him that he must wait,” said the fat man. “Gold in my purse is better than gold in my future.”

Dany let them argue, sipping the tart persimmon wine and trying to keep her face blank and ignorant. I will have them all, no matter the price, she told herself. The city had a hundred slave traders, but the eight before her were the greatest. When selling bed slaves, fieldhands, scribes, craftsmen, and tutors, these men were rivals, but their ancestors had allied one with the other for the purpose of making and selling the Unsullied. Brick and blood built Astapor, and brick and blood her people.

It was Kraznys who finally announced their decision. “Tell her that the eight thousands she shall have, if her gold proves sufficient. And the six centuries, if she wishes. Tell her to come back in a year, and we will sell her another two thousand.”

“In a year I shall be in Westeros,” said Dany when she had heard the translation. “My need is now. The Unsullied are well trained, but even so, many will fall in battle. I shall need the boys as replacements to take up the swords they drop.” She put her wine aside and leaned toward the slave girl. “Tell the Good Masters that I will want even the little ones who still have their puppies. Tell them that I will pay as much for the boy they cut yesterday as for an Unsullied in a spiked helm.”

The girl told them. The answer was still no.


Dany frowned in annoyance. “Very well. Tell them I will pay double, so long as I get them all.”


“Double?” The fat one in the gold fringe all but drooled.

“This little whore is a fool, truly,” said Khaznys mo Nakloz. “Ask her for triple, I say. She is desperate enough to pay. Ask for ten times the price of every slave, yes.”

The tall Grazdan with the spiked beard spoke in the Common Tongue, though not so well as the slave girl. “Your Grace,” he growled, “Westeros is being wealthy, yes, but you are not being queen now. Perhaps will never being queen. Even Unsullied may be losing battles to savage steel knights of Seven Kingdoms. I am reminding, the Good Masters of Astapor are not selling flesh for promisings. Are you having gold and trading goods sufficient to be paying for all these eunuchs you are wanting?”

“You know the answer to that better than I, Good Master,” Dany replied. “Your men have gone through my ships and tallied every bead of amber and jar of saffron. How much do I have?”

“Sufficient to be buying one of thousands,” the Good Master said, with a contemptuous smile. “Yet you are paying double, you are saying. Five centuries, then, is all you buy.”

“Your pretty crown might buy another century,” said the fat one in Valyrian. “Your crown of the three dragons.”

Dany waited for his words to be translated. “My crown is not for sale.” When Viserys sold their mother’s crown, the last joy had gone from him, leaving only rage. “Nor will I enslave my people, nor sell their goods and horses. But my ships you can have. The great cog Balerion and the galleys Vhagar and Meraxes.” She had warned Groleo and the other captains it might come to this, though they had protested the necessity of it furiously. “Three good ships should be worth more than a few paltry eunuchs.”

The fat Grazdan turned to the others. They conferred in low voices once again. “Two of the thousands,” the one with the spiked beard said when he turned back. “It is too much, but the Good Masters are being generous and your need is being great.”

Two thousand would never serve for what she meant to do. I must have them all. Dany knew what she must do now, though the taste of it was so bitter that even the persimmon wine could not cleanse it from her month. She had considered long and hard and found no other way. It is my only choice. “Give me all,” she said, “and you may have a dragon.”

There was the sound of indrawn breath from Jhiqui beside her. Kraznys smiled at his fellows. “Did I not tell you? Anything, she would give us.”

Whitebeard stared in shocked disbelief. His hand trembled where it grasped the staff. “No.” He went to one knee before her. “Your Grace, I beg you, win your throne with dragons, not slaves. You must not do this thing—”

“You must not presume to instruct me. Ser Jorah, remove Whitebeard from my presence.”

Mormont seized the old man roughly by an elbow, yanked him back to his feet, and marched him out onto the terrace.

“Tell the Good Masters I regret this interruption,” said Dany to the slave girl. “Tell them I await their answer.”

She knew the answer, though; she could see it in the glitter of their eyes and the smiles they tried so hard to hide. Astapor had thousands of eunuchs, and even more slave boys waiting to be cut, but there were only three living dragons in all the great wide world. And the Ghiscari lust for dragons. How could they not? Five times had Old Ghis contended with Valyria when the world was young, and five times gone down to bleak defeat. For the Freehold had dragons, and the Empire had none.

The oldest Grazdan stirred in his seat, and his pearls clacked together softly. “A dragon of our choice,” he said in a thin, hard voice. “The black one is largest and healthiest.”

“His name is Drogon.” She nodded.

“All your goods, save your crown and your queenly raiment, which we will allow you to keep. The three ships. And Drogon.”

“Done,” she said, in the Common Tongue.


“Done,” the old Grazdan answered in his thick Valyrian.

The others echoed that old man of the pearl fringe. “Done,” the slave girl translated, “and done, and done, eight times done.”

“The Unsullied will learn your savage tongue quick enough,” added Kraznys mo Nakloz, when all the arrangements had been made, “but until such time you will need a slave to speak to them. Take this one as our gift to you, a token of a bargain well struck.”

“I shall,” said Dany.

The slave girl rendered his words to her, and hers to him. If she had feelings about being given for a token, she took care not to let them show.

~

Dany fed her dragons as she always did, but found she had no appetite herself. She cried awhile, alone in her cabin, then dried her tears long enough for yet another argument with Groleo. “Magister Illyrio is not here,” she finally had to tell him, “and if he was, he could not sway me either. I need the Unsullied more than I need these ships, and I will hear no more about it.”

The anger burned the grief and fear from her, for a few hours at the least. Afterward she called her bloodriders to her cabin, with Ser Jorah. They were the only ones she truly trusted.

~

The red brick streets of Astapor were almost crowded this morning. Slaves and servants lined the ways, while the slavers and their women donned their tokars to look down from their stepped pyramids. They are not so different from Qartheen after all, she thought. They want a glimpse of dragons to tell their children of, and their children’s children. It made her wonder how many of them would ever have children.

~

“Here they are.” He looked at Missandei. “Tell her they are hers ... if she can pay.”

“She can,” the girl said.

Ser Jorah barked a command, and the trade goods were brought forward. Six bales of tiger skins, three hundred bolts of fine silk. Jars of saffron, jars of myrrh, jars of pepper and curry and cardamom, an onyx mask, twelve jade monkeys, casks of ink in red and black and green, a box of rare black amethysts, a box of pearls, a cask of pitted olives stuffed with maggots, a dozen casks of pickled cave fish, a great brass gong and a hammer to beat it with, seventeen ivory eyes, and a huge chest full of books written in tongues that Dany could not read. And more, and more, and more. Her people stacked it all before the slavers.

While the payment was being made, Kraznys mo Nakloz favored her with a few final words on the handling of her troops. “They are green as yet,” he said through Missandei. “Tell the whore of Westeros she would be wise to blood them early. There are many small cities between here and there, cities ripe for sacking. Whatever plunder she takes will be hers alone. Unsullied have no lust for gold or gems. And should she take captives, a few guards will suffice to march them back to Astapor. We’ll buy the healthy ones, and for a good price. And who knows? In ten years, some of the boys she sends us may be Unsullied in their turn. Thus all shall prosper.”

Finally there were no more trade goods to add to the pile. Her Dothraki mounted their horses once more, and Dany said, “This was all we could carry. The rest awaits you on the ships, a great quantity of amber and wine and black rice. And you have the ships themselves. So all that remains is ...”

“ ... the dragon,” finished the Grazdan with the spiked beard, who spoke the Common Tongue so thickly.

“And here he waits.” Ser Jorah and Belwas walked beside her to the litter, where Drogon and his brothers lay basking in the sun. Jhiqui unfastened one end of the chain, and handed it down to her. When she gave a yank, the black dragon raised his head, hissing, and unfolded wings of night and scarlet. Kraznys mo Nakloz smiled broadly as their shadow fell across him.

Dany handed the slaver the end of Drogon’s chain. In return he presented her with the whip. The handle was black dragonbone, elaborately carved and inlaid with gold. Nine long thin leather lashes trailed from it, each one tipped by a gilded claw. The gold pommel was a woman’s head, with pointed ivory teeth. “The harpy’s fingers,” Kraznys named the scourge.

Dany turned the whip in her hand. Such a light thing, to bear such weight. “Is it done, then? Do they belong to me?”

“It is done,” he agreed, giving the chain a sharp pull to bring Drogon down from the litter.

Dany mounted her silver. She could feel her heart thumping in her chest. She felt desperately afraid. Was this what my brother would have done? She wondered if Prince Rhaegar had been this anxious when he saw the Usurper’s host formed up across the Trident with all their banners floating on the wind.

She stood in her stirrups and raised the harpy’s fingers above her head for all the Unsullied to see. “IT IS DONE!” she cried at the top of her lungs. “YOU ARE MINE!” She gave the mare her heels and galloped along the first rank, holding the fingers high. “YOU ARE THE DRAGON’S NOW! YOU’RE BOUGHT AND PAID FOR! IT IS DONE! IT IS DONE!”

She glimpsed old Grazdan turn his grey head sharply. He hears me speak Valyrian. The other slavers were not listening. They crowded around Kraznys and the dragon, shouting advice. Though the Astapori yanked and tugged, Drogon would not budge off the litter. Smoke rose grey from his open jaws, and his long neck curled and straightened as he snapped at the slaver’s face.

It is time to cross the Trident, Dany thought, as she wheeled and rode her silver back. Her bloodriders moved in close around her. “You are in difficulty,” she observed.

“He will not come,” Kraznys said.

“There is a reason. A dragon is no slave.” And Dany swept the lash down as hard as she could across the slaver’s face. Kraznys screamed and staggered back, the blood running red down his cheeks into his perfumed beard. The harpy’s fingers had torn his features half to pieces with one slash, but she did not pause to contemplate the ruin. “Drogon,” she sang out loudly, sweetly, all her fear forgotten. “Dracarys.”

The black dragon spread his wings and roared.

A lance of swirling dark flame took Kraznys full in the face. His eyes melted and ran down his cheeks, and the oil in his hair and beard burst so fiercely into fire that for an instant the slaver wore a burning crown twice as tall as his head. The sudden stench of charred meat overwhelmed even his perfume, and his wail seemed to drown all other sound.

Then the Plaza of Punishment blew apart into blood and chaos. The Good Masters were shrieking, stumbling, shoving one another aside and tripping over the fringes of their tokars in their haste. Drogon flew almost lazily at Kraznys, black wings beating. As he gave the slaver another taste of fire, Irri and Jhiqui unchained Viserion and Rhaegal, and suddenly there were three dragons in the air. When Dany turned to look, a third of Astapor’s proud demon-horned warriors were fighting to stay atop their terrified mounts, and another third were fleeing in a bright blaze of shiny copper. One man kept his saddle long enough to draw a sword, but Jhogo’s whip coiled about his neck and cut off his shout. Another lost a hand to Rakharo’s arakh and rode off reeling and spurting blood. Aggo sat calmly notching arrows to his bowstring and sending them at tokars. Silver, gold, or plain, he cared nothing for the fringe. Strong Belwas had his arakh out as well, and he spun it as he charged.

“Spears!” Dany heard one Astapori shout. It was Grazdan, old Grazdan in his tokar heavy with pearls. “Unsullied! Defend us, stop them, defend your masters! Spears! Swords!”

When Rakharo put an arrow through his mouth, the slaves holding his sedan chair broke and ran, dumping him unceremoniously on the ground. The old man crawled to the first rank of eunuchs, his blood pooling on the bricks. The Unsullied did not so much as look down to watch him die. Rank on rank on rank, they stood.

And did not move. The gods have heard my prayer.

“Unsullied!” Dany galloped before them, her silver-gold braid flying behind her, her bell chiming with every stride. “Slay the Good Masters, slay the soldiers, slay every man who wears a tokar or holds a whip, but harm no child under twelve, and strike the chains off every slave you see.” She raised the harpy’s fingers in the air ... and then she flung the scourge aside. “Freedom!” she sang out. “Dracarys! Dracarys!”

“Dracarys!” they shouted back, the sweetest word she’d ever heard. “Dracarys! Dracarys!” And all around them slavers ran and sobbed and begged and died, and the dusty air was filled with spears and fire.

 ASOS Daenerys IV

Her Dothraki scouts had told her how it was, but Dany wanted to see for herself. Ser Jorah Mormont rode with her through a birchwood forest and up a slanting sandstone ridge. “Near enough,” he warned her at the crest.

Dany reined in her mare and looked across the fields, to where the Yunkish host lay athwart her path. Whitebeard had been teaching her how best to count the numbers of a foe. “Five thousand,” she said after a moment.

“I’d say so.”

~

“Are those slave soldiers they lead?”

“In large part. But not the equal of Unsullied. Yunkai is known for training bed slaves, not warriors.”

“What say you? Can we defeat this army?” “Easily,” Ser Jorah said.

“But not bloodlessly.” Blood aplenty had soaked into the bricks of Astapor the day that city fell, though little of it belonged to her or hers.

“We might win a battle here, but at such cost we cannot take the city.”

“That is ever a risk, Khaleesi. Astapor was complacent and vulnerable. Yunkai is forewarned.”

Dany considered. The slaver host seemed small compared to her own numbers, but the sellswords were ahorse. She’d ridden too long with Dothraki not to have a healthy respect for what mounted warriors could do to foot. The Unsullied could withstand their charge, but my freedmen will be slaughtered. “The slavers like to talk,” she said. “Send word that I will hear them this evening in my tent. And invite the captains of the sellsword companies to call on me as well. But not together. The Stormcrows at midday, the Second Sons two hours later.”

“As you wish,” Ser Jorah said. “But if they do not come—”

“They’ll come. They will be curious to see the dragons and hear what I might have to say, and the clever ones will see it for a chance to gauge my strength.” She wheeled her silver mare about. “I’ll await them in my pavilion.”

~

When she had commanded the Unsullied to choose officers from amongst themselves, Grey Worm had been their overwhelming choice for the highest rank. Dany had put Ser Jorah over him to train him for command, and the exile knight said that so far the young eunuch was hard but fair, quick to learn, tireless, and utterly unrelenting in his attention to detail.

~

One of the first things Dany had done after the fall of Astapor was abolish the custom of giving the Unsullied new slave names every day. Most of those born free had returned to their birth names; those who still remembered them, at least. Others had called themselves after heroes or gods, and sometimes weapons, gems, and even flowers, which resulted in soldiers with some very peculiar names, to Dany’s ears. Grey Worm had remained Grey Worm. When she asked him why, he said, “It is a lucky name. The name this one was born to was accursed. That was the name he had when he was taken for a slave. But Grey Worm is the name this one drew the day Daenerys Stormborn set him free.”

~

Within the perimeter the Unsullied had established, the tents were going up in orderly rows, with her own tall golden pavilion at the center. A second encampment lay close beyond her own; five times the size, sprawling and chaotic, this second camp had no ditches, no tents, no sentries, no horselines. Those who had horses or mules slept beside them, for fear they might be stolen. Goats, sheep, and half-starved dogs wandered freely amongst hordes of women, children, and old men. Dany had left Astapor in the hands of a council of former slaves led by a healer, a scholar, and a priest. Wise men all, she thought, and just. Yet even so, tens of thousands preferred to follow her to Yunkai, rather than remain behind in Astapor. I gave them the city, and most of them were too frightened to take it.

The raggle-taggle host of freedmen dwarfed her own, but they were more burden than benefit. Perhaps one in a hundred had a donkey, a camel, or an ox; most carried weapons looted from some slaver’s armory, but only one in ten was strong enough to fight, and none was trained. They ate the land bare as they passed, like locusts in sandals. Yet Dany could not bring herself to abandon them as Ser Jorah and her bloodriders urged. I told them they were free. I cannot tell them now they are not free to join me. She gazed at the smoke rising from their cookfires and swallowed a sigh. She might have the best footsoldiers in the world, but she also had the worst.

~

Arstan Whitebeard stood outside the entrance of her tent, while Strong Belwas sat crosslegged on the grass nearby, eating a bowl of figs. On the march, the duty of guarding her fell upon their shoulders. She had made Jhogo, Aggo, and Rakharo her kos as well as her bloodriders, and just now she needed them more to command her Dothraki than to protect her person. Her khalasar was tiny, some thirty-odd mounted warriors, and most of them braidless boys and bentback old men. Yet they were all the horse she had, and she dared not go without them. The Unsullied might be the finest infantry in all the world, as Ser Jorah claimed, but she needed scouts and outriders as well.

~

“Yunkai will have war,” Dany told Whitebeard inside the pavilion.

~

Ser Jorah Mormont returned an hour later, accompanied by three captains of the Stormcrows. They wore black feathers on their polished helms, and claimed to be all equal in honor and authority. Dany studied them as Irri and Jhiqui poured the wine. Prendahl na Ghezn was a thickset Ghiscari with a broad face and dark hair going grey; Sallor the Bald had a twisting scar across his pale Qartheen cheek; and Daario Naharis was flamboyant even for a Tyroshi. His beard was cut into three prongs and dyed blue, the same color as his eyes and the curly hair that fell to his collar. His pointed mustachios were painted gold. His clothes were all shades of yellow; a foam of Myrish lace the color of butter spilled from his collar and cuffs, his doublet was sewn with brass medallions in the shape of dandelions, and ornamental goldwork crawled up his high leather boots to his thighs. Gloves of soft yellow suede were tucked into a belt of gilded rings, and his fingernails were enameled blue.

But it was Prendahl na Ghezn who spoke for the sellswords. “You would do well to take your rabble elsewhere,” he said. “You took Astapor by treachery, but Yunkai shall not fall so easily.”

“Five hundred of your Stormcrows against ten thousand of my Unsullied,” said Dany. “I am only a young girl and do not understand the ways of war, yet these odds seem poor to me.”

“The Stormcrows do not stand alone,” said Prendahl.

“Stormcrows do not stand at all. They fly, at the first sign of thunder. Perhaps you should be flying now. I have heard that sellswords are notoriously unfaithful. What will it avail you to be staunch, when the Second Sons change sides?”

“That will not happen,” Prendahl insisted, unmoved. “And if it did, it would not matter. The Second Sons are nothing. We fight beside the stalwart men of Yunkai.”

“You fight beside bed-boys armed with spears.” When she turned her head, the twin bells in her braid rang softly. “Once battle is joined, do not think to ask for quarter. Join me now, however, and you shall keep the gold the Yunkaii paid you and claim a share of the plunder besides, with greater rewards later when I come into my kingdom. Fight for the Wise Masters, and your wages will be death. Do you imagine that Yunkai will open its gates when my Unsullied are butchering you beneath the walls?”

“Woman, you bray like an ass, and make no more sense.”

“Woman?” She chuckled. “Is that meant to insult me? I would return the slap, if I took you for a man.” Dany met his stare. “I am Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, the Unburnt, Mother of Dragons, khaleesi to Drogo’s riders, and queen of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros.”

“What you are,” said Prendahl na Ghezn, “is a horselord’s whore. When we break you, I will breed you to my stallion.”

Strong Belwas drew his arakh. “Strong Belwas will give his ugly tongue to the little queen, if she likes.”

“No, Belwas. I have given these men my safe conduct.” She smiled. “Tell me this—are the Stormcrows slave or free?”

“We are a brotherhood of free men,” Sallor declared.

“Good.” Dany stood. “Go back and tell your brothers what I said, then. It may be that some of them would sooner sup on gold and glory than on death. I shall want your answer on the morrow.”

The Stormcrow captains rose in unison. “Our answer is no,” said Prendahl na Ghezn. His fellows followed him out of the tent ... but Daario Naharis glanced back as he left, and inclined his head in polite farewell.

~

Two hours later the commander of the Second Sons arrived alone. He proved to be a towering Braavosi with pale green eyes and a bushy red-gold beard that reached nearly to his belt. His name was Mero, but he called himself the Titan’s Bastard.

Mero tossed down his wine straightaway, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and leered at Dany. “I believe I fucked your twin sister in a pleasure house back home. Or was it you?”

“I think not. I would remember a man of such magnificence, I have no doubt.”
“Yes, that is so. No woman has ever forgotten the Titan’s Bastard.” The Braavosi held out his cup to Jhiqui. “What say you take those clothes off and come sit on my lap? If you please me, I might bring the Second Sons over to your side.”

“If you bring the Second Sons over to my side, I might not have you gelded.”

The big man laughed. “Little girl, another woman once tried to geld me with her teeth. She has no teeth now, but my sword is as long and thick as ever. Shall I take it out and show you?”

“No need. After my eunuchs cut it off, I can examine it at my leisure.” Dany took a sip of wine. “It is true that I am only a young girl, and do not know the ways of war. Explain to me how you propose to defeat ten thousand Unsullied with your five hundred. Innocent as I am, these odds seem poor to me.”

“The Second Sons have faced worse odds and won.”

“The Second Sons have faced worse odds and run. At Qohor, when the Three Thousand made their stand. Or do you deny it?”

“That was many and more years ago, before the Second Sons were led by the Titan’s Bastard.”

“So it is from you they get their courage?” Dany turned to Ser Jorah. “When the battle is joined, kill this one first.”

The exile knight smiled. “Gladly, Your Grace.”

“Of course,” she said to Mero, “you could run again. We will not stop you. Take your Yunkish gold and go.”

“Had you ever seen the Titan of Braavos, foolish girl, you would know that it has no tail to turn.”

“Then stay, and fight for me.”

“You are worth fighting for, it is true,” the Braavosi said, “and I would gladly let you kiss my sword, if I were free. But I have taken Yunkai’s coin and pledged my holy word.”

“Coins can be returned,” she said. “I will pay you as much and more. I have other cities to conquer, and a whole kingdom awaiting me half a world away. Serve me faithfully, and the Second Sons need never seek hire again.”

The Braavosi tugged on his thick red beard. “As much and more, and perhaps a kiss besides, eh? Or more than a kiss? For a man as magnificent as me?”

“Perhaps.”
“I will like the taste of your tongue, I think.”

She could sense Ser Jorah’s anger. My black bear does not like this talk of kissing. “Think on what I’ve said tonight. Can I have your answer on the morrow?”

“You can.” The Titan’s Bastard grinned. “Can I have a flagon of this fine wine to take back to my captains?”

“You may have a tun. It is from the cellars of the Good Masters of Astapor, and I have wagons full of it.”

“Then give me a wagon. A token of your good regard.”

“You have a big thirst.”

“I am big all over. And I have many brothers. The Titan’s Bastard does not drink alone, Khaleesi.”

“A wagon it is, if you promise to drink to my health.”

“Done!” he boomed. “And done, and done! Three toasts we’ll drink you, and bring you an answer when the sun comes up.”

~

The man on the white camel named himself Grazdan mo Eraz. Lean and hard, he had a white smile such as Kraznys had worn until Drogon burned off his face. His hair was drawn up in a unicorn’s horn that jutted from his brow, and his tokar was fringed with golden Myrish lace. “Ancient and glorious is Yunkai, the queen of cities,” he said when Dany welcomed him to her tent. “Our walls are strong, our nobles proud and fierce, our common folk without fear. Ours is the blood of ancient Ghis, whose empire was old when Valyria was yet a squalling child. You were wise to sit and speak, Khaleesi. You shall find no easy conquest here.”

“Good. My Unsullied will relish a bit of a fight.” She looked to Grey Worm, who nodded.

Grazdan shrugged expansively. “If blood is what you wish, let it flow. I am told you have freed your eunuchs. Freedom means as much to an Unsullied as a hat to a haddock.” He smiled at Grey Worm, but the eunuch might have been made of stone. “Those who survive we shall enslave again, and use to retake Astapor from the rabble. We can make a slave of you as well, do not doubt it. There are pleasure houses in Lys and Tyrosh where men would pay handsomely to bed the last Targaryen.”

“It is good to see you know who I am,” said Dany mildly.

“I pride myself on my knowledge of the savage senseless west.” Grazdan spread his hands, a gesture of conciliation. “And yet, why should we speak thus harshly to one another? It is true that you committed savageries in Astapor, but we Yunkai’i are a most forgiving people. Your quarrel is not with us, Your Grace. Why squander your strength against our mighty walls when you will need every man to regain your father’s throne in far Westeros? Yunkai wishes you only well in that endeavor. And to prove the truth of that, I have brought you a gift.” He clapped his hands, and two of his escort came forward bearing a heavy cedar chest bound in bronze and gold. They set it at her feet. “Fifty thousand golden marks,” Grazdan said smoothly. “Yours, as a gesture of friendship from the Wise Masters of Yunkai. Gold given freely is better than plunder bought with blood, surely? So I say to you, Daenerys Targaryen, take this chest, and go.”

Dany pushed open the lid of the chest with a small slippered foot. It was full of gold coins, just as the envoy said. She grabbed a handful and let them run through her fingers. They shone brightly as they tumbled and fell; new minted, most of them, stamped with a stepped pyramid on one face and the harpy of Ghis on the other. “Very pretty. I wonder how many chests like this I shall find when I take your city?”

He chuckled. “None, for that you shall never do.”

“I have a gift for you as well.” She slammed the chest shut. “Three days. On the morning of the third day, send out your slaves. All of them. Every man, woman, and child shall be given a weapon, and as much food, clothing, coin, and goods as he or she can carry. These they shall be allowed to choose freely from among their masters’ possessions, as payment for their years of servitude. When all the slaves have departed, you will open your gates and allow my Unsullied to enter and search your city, to make certain none remain in bondage. If you do this, Yunkai will not be burned or plundered, and none of your people shall be molested. The Wise Masters will have the peace they desire, and will have proved themselves wise indeed. What say you?”

“I say, you are mad.”

“Am I?” Dany shrugged, and said, “Dracarys.”

The dragons answered. Rhaegal hissed and smoked, Viserion snapped, and Drogon spat swirling red-black flame. It touched the drape of Grazdan’s tokar, and the silk caught in half a heartbeat. Golden marks spilled across the carpets as the envoy stumbled over the chest, shouting curses and beating at his arm until Whitebeard flung a flagon of water over him to douse the flames. “You swore I should have safe conduct! “ the Yunkish envoy wailed.

“Do all the Yunkai’i whine so over a singed tokar? I shall buy you a new one ... if you deliver up your slaves within three days. Elsewise, Drogon shall give you a warmer kiss.” She wrinkled her nose. “You’ve soiled yourself. Take your gold and go, and see that the Wise Masters hear my message.”

Grazdan mo Eraz pointed a finger. “You shall rue this arrogance, whore. These little lizards will not keep you safe, I promise you. We will fill the air with arrows if they come within a league of Yunkai. Do you think it is so hard to kill a dragon?”

“Harder than to kill a slaver. Three days, Grazdan. Tell them. By the end of the third day, I will be in Yunkai, whether you open your gates for me or no.”

~

“Ser Jorah,” she said, “summon my bloodriders.” Dany seated herself on a mound of cushions to await them, her dragons all about her. When they were assembled, she said, “An hour past midnight should be time enough.”

“Yes, Khaleesi,” said Rakharo. “Time for what?”


“To mount our attack.”


Ser Jorah Mormont scowled. “You told the sellswords—”

“—that I wanted their answers on the morrow. I made no promises about tonight. The Stormcrows will be arguing about my offer. The Second Sons will be drunk on the wine I gave Mero. And the Yunkai’i believe they have three days. We will take them under cover of this darkness.”

“They will have scouts watching for us.”

“And in the dark, they will see hundreds of campfires burning,” said Dany. “If they see anything at all.”

“Khaleesi,” said Jhogo, “I will deal with these scouts. They are no riders, only slavers on horses.”

“Just so,” she agreed. “I think we should attack from three sides. Grey Worm, your Unsullied shall strike at them from right and left, while my kos lead my horse in wedge for a thrust through their center. Slave soldiers will never stand before mounted Dothraki.” She smiled. “To be sure, I am only a young girl and know little of war. What do you think, my lords?”

“I think you are Rhaegar Targaryen’s sister,” Ser Jorah said with a rueful half smile.

“Aye,” said Arstan Whitebeard, “and a queen as well.”

~

“My sword is yours. My life is yours. My love is yours. My blood, my body, my songs, you own them all. I live and die at your command, fair queen.”

“Then live,” Dany said, “and fight for me tonight.”

“That would not be wise, my queen.” Ser Jorah gave Daario a cold, hard stare. “Keep this one here under guard until the battle’s fought and won.”

She considered a moment, then shook her head. “If he can give us the Stormcrows, surprise is certain.”

“And if he betrays you, surprise is lost.”

Dany looked down at the sellsword again. He gave her such a smile that she flushed and turned away. “He won’t.”

“How can you know that?”

She pointed to the lumps of blackened flesh the dragons were consuming, bite by bloody bite. “I would call that proof of his sincerity. Daario Naharis, have your Stormcrows ready to strike the Yunkish rear when my attack begins. Can you get back safely?”

“If they stop me, I will say I have been scouting, and saw nothing.” The Tyroshi rose to his feet, bowed, and swept out.

~

A stillness settled over her camp when midnight came and went. Dany remained in her pavilion with her maids, while Arstan Whitebeard and Strong Belwas kept the guard. The waiting is the hardest part. To sit in her tent with idle hands while her battle was being fought without her made Dany feel half a child again.

~

The tent flap pushed open, and Ser Jorah Mormont entered. He was dusty, and spattered with blood, but otherwise none the worse for battle. The exile knight went to one knee before Dany and said, “Your Grace, I bring you victory. The Stormcrows turned their cloaks, the slaves broke, and the Second Sons were too drunk to fight, just as you said. Two hundred dead, Yunkai’i for the most part. Their slaves threw down their spears and ran, and their sellswords yielded. We have several thousand captives.”

“Our own losses?”


“A dozen. If that many.”

Only then did she allow herself to smile. “Rise, my good brave bear. Was Grazdan taken? Or the Titan’s Bastard?”

“Grazdan went to Yunkai to deliver your terms.” Ser Jorah got to his feet. “Mero fled, once he realized the Stormcrows had turned. I have men hunting him. He shouldn’t escape us long.”

“Very well,” Dany said. “Sellsword or slave, spare all those who will pledge me their faith. If enough of the Second Sons will join us, keep the company intact.”

~

The next day they marched the last three leagues to Yunkai. The city was built of yellow bricks instead of red; elsewise it was Astapor all over again, with the same crumbling walls and high stepped pyramids, and a great harpy mounted above its gates. The wall and towers swarmed with crossbowmen and slingers. Ser Jorah and Grey Worm deployed her men, Irri and Jhiqui raised her pavilion, and Dany sat down to wait.

On the morning of the third day, the city gates swung open and a line of slaves began to emerge. Dany mounted her silver to greet them. As they passed, little Missandei told them that they owed their freedom to Daenerys Stormborn, the Unburnt, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros and Mother of Dragons.

 ASOS Daenerys V

Behind them, huge against the sky, could be seen the top of the Great Pyramid, a monstrous thing eight hundred feet tall with a towering bronze harpy at its top.

“The harpy is a craven thing,” Daario Naharis said when he saw it. “She has a woman’s heart and a chicken’s legs. Small wonder her sons hide behind their walls.”

But the hero did not hide. He rode out the city gates, armored in scales of copper and jet and mounted upon a white charger whose striped pink-and-white barding matched the silk cloak flowing from the hero’s shoulders. The lance he bore was fourteen feet long, swirled in pink and white, and his hair was shaped and teased and lacquered into two great curling ram’s horns. Back and forth he rode beneath the walls of multicolored bricks, challenging the besiegers to send a champion forth to meet him in single combat.

Her bloodriders were in such a fever to go meet him that they almost came to blows. “Blood of my blood,” Dany told them, “your place is here by me. This man is a buzzing fly, no more. Ignore him, he will soon be gone.” Aggo, Jhogo, and Rakharo were brave warriors, but they were young, and too valuable to risk. They kept her khalasar together, and were her best scouts too.

“That was wisely done,” Ser Jorah said as they watched from the front of her pavilion. “Let the fool ride back and forth and shout until his horse goes lame. He does us no harm.”

“He does,” Arstan Whitebeard insisted. “Wars are not won with swords and spears alone, ser. Two hosts of equal strength may come together, but one will break and run whilst the other stands. This hero builds courage in the hearts of his own men and plants the seeds of doubt in ours.”

Ser Jorah snorted. “And if our champion were to lose, what sort of seed would that plant?”

“A man who fears battle wins no victories, ser.”

“We’re not speaking of battle. Meereen’s gates will not open if that fool falls. Why risk a life for naught?”

“For honor, I would say.”

“I have heard enough.” Dany did not need their squabbling on top of all the other troubles that plagued her. Meereen posed dangers far more serious than one pink-and-white hero shouting insults, and she could not let herself be distracted. Her host numbered more than eighty thousand after Yunkai, but fewer than a quarter of them were soldiers. The rest ... well, Ser Jorah called them mouths with feet, and soon they would be starving.

The Great Masters of Meereen had withdrawn before Dany’s advance, harvesting all they could and burning what they could not harvest. Scorched fields and poisoned wells had greeted her at every hand. Worst of all, they had nailed a slave child up on every milepost along the coast road from Yunkai, nailed them up still living with their entrails hanging out and one arm always outstretched to point the way to Meereen. Leading her van, Daario had given orders for the children to be taken down before Dany had to see them, but she had countermanded him as soon as she was told. “I will see them,” she said. “I will see every one, and count them, and look upon their faces. And I will remember.”

By the time they came to Meereen sitting on the salt coast beside her river, the count stood at one hundred and sixty-three. I will have this city, Dany pledged to herself once more.

The pink-and-white hero taunted the besiegers for an hour, mocking their manhood, mothers, wives, and gods. Meereen’s defenders cheered him on from the city walls. “His name is Oznak zo Pahl,” Brown Ben Plumm told her when he arrived for the war council. [...]

They watched Oznak zo Pahl dismount his white charger, undo his robes, pull out his manhood, and direct a stream of urine in the general direction of the olive grove where Dany’s gold pavilion stood among the burnt trees. He was still pissing when Daario Naharis rode up, arakh in hand. “Shall I cut that off for you and stuff it down his mouth, Your Grace?” His tooth shone gold amidst the blue of his forked beard.

“It’s his city I want, not his meager manhood.” She was growing angry, however. If I ignore this any longer, my own people will think me weak. Yet who could she send? She needed Daario as much as she did her bloodriders. Without the flamboyant Tyroshi, she had no hold on the Stormcrows, many of whom had been followers of Prendahl na Ghezn and Sallor the Bald.

High on the walls of Meereen, the jeers had grown louder, and now hundreds of the defenders were taking their lead from the hero and pissing down through the ramparts to show their contempt for the besiegers. They are pissing on slaves, to show how little they fear us, she thought. They would never dare such a thing if it were a Dothraki khalasar outside their gates.

“This challenge must be met,” Arstan said again.

“It will be.” Dany said, as the hero tucked his penis away again. “Tell Strong Belwas I have need of him.”

[...] Oznak zo Pahl lowered his lance and charged.

Belwas stopped with legs spread wide. In one hand was his small round shield, in the other the curved arakh that Arstan tended with such care. His great brown stomach and sagging chest were bare above the yellow silk sash knotted about his waist, and he wore no armor but his studded leather vest, so absurdly small that it did not even cover his nipples. “We should have given him chainmail,” Dany said, suddenly anxious.

“Mail would only slow him,” said Ser Jorah. “They wear no armor in the fighting pits. It’s blood the crowds come to see.”

Dust flew from the hooves of the white charger. Oznak thundered toward Strong Belwas, his striped cloak streaming from his shoulders. The whole city of Meereen seemed to be screaming him on. The besiegers’ cheers seemed few and thin by comparison; her Unsullied stood in silent ranks, watching with stone faces. Belwas might have been made of stone as well. He stood in the horse’s path, his vest stretched tight across his broad back. Oznak’s lance was leveled at the center of his chest. Its bright steel point winked in the sunlight. He’s going to be impaled, she thought ... as the eunuch spun sideways. And quick as the blink of an eye the horseman was beyond him, wheeling, raising the lance. Belwas made no move to strike at him. The Meereenese on the walls screamed even louder. “What is he doing?” Dany demanded.

“Giving the mob a show,” Ser Jorah said.

Oznak brought the horse around Belwas in a wide circle, then dug in with his spurs and charged again. Again Belwas waited, then spun and knocked the point of the lance aside. She could hear the eunuch’s booming laughter echoing across the plain as the hero went past him. “The lance is too long,” Ser Jorah said. “All Belwas needs do is avoid the point. Instead of trying to spit him so prettily, the fool should ride right over him.”

Oznak zo Pahl charged a third time, and now Dany could see plainly that he was riding past Belwas, the way a Westerosi knight might ride at an opponent in a tilt, rather than at him, like a Dothraki riding down a foe. The flat level ground allowed the charger to get up a good speed, but it also made it easy for the eunuch to dodge the cumbersome fourteen-foot lance.

Meereen’s pink-and-white hero tried to anticipate this time, and swung his lance sideways at the last second to catch Strong Belwas when he dodged. But the eunuch had anticipated too, and this time he dropped down instead of spinning sideways. The lance passed harmlessly over his head. And suddenly Belwas was rolling, and bringing the razor-sharp arakh around in a silver arc. They heard the charger scream as the blade bit into his legs, and then the horse was falling, the hero tumbling from the saddle.

A sudden silence swept along the brick parapets of Meereen. Now it was Dany’s people who were screaming and cheering.

Oznak leapt clear of his horse and managed to draw his sword before Strong Belwas was on him. Steel sang against steel, too fast and furious for Dany to follow the blows. It could not have been a dozen heartbeats before Belwas’s chest was awash in blood from a slice below his breasts, and Oznak zo Pahl had an arakh planted right between his ram’s horns. The eunuch wrenched the blade loose and parted the hero’s head from his body with three savage blows to the neck. He held it up high for the Meereenese to see, then flung it toward the city gates and let it bounce and roll across the sand.

“So much for the hero of Meereen,” said Daario, laughing.

“No,” Dany agreed, “but I’m pleased we killed this one.”

The defenders on the walls began firing their crossbows at Belwas, but the bolts fell short or skittered harmlessly along the ground. The eunuch turned his back on the steel- tipped rain, lowered his trousers, squatted, and shat in the direction of the city. He wiped himself with Oznak’s striped cloak, and paused long enough to loot the hero’s corpse and put the dying horse out of his agony before trudging back to the olive grove.

~

Only then did she lead her captains and commanders inside her pavilion for their council.

“I must have this city,” she told them, sitting crosslegged on a pile of cushions, her dragons all about her. Irri and Jhiqui poured wine. “Her granaries are full to bursting. There are figs and dates and olives growing on the terraces of her pyramids, and casks of salt fish and smoked meat buried in her cellars.”

“And fat chests of gold, silver, and gemstones as well,” Daario reminded them. “Let us not forget the gemstones.”

“I’ve had a look at the landward walls, and I see no point of weakness,” said Ser Jorah Mormont. “Given time, we might be able to mine beneath a tower and make a breach, but what do we eat while we’re digging? Our stores are all but exhausted.”

“No weakness in the landward walls?” said Dany. Meereen stood on a jut of sand and stone where the slow brown Skahazadhan flowed into Slaver’s Bay. The city’s north wall ran along the riverbank, its west along the bay shore. “Does that mean we might attack from the river or the sea?”

“With three ships? We’ll want to have Captain Groleo take a good look at the wall along the river, but unless it’s crumbling that’s just a wetter way to die.”

“What if we were to build siege towers? My brother Viserys told tales of such, I know they can be made.”

“From wood, Your Grace,” Ser Jorah said. “The slavers have burnt every tree within twenty leagues of here. Without wood, we have no trebuchets to smash the walls, no ladders to go over them, no siege towers, no turtles, and no rams. We can storm the gates with axes, to be sure, but ...”

“Did you see them bronze heads above the gates?” asked Brown Ben Plumm. “Rows of harpy heads with open mouths? The Meereenese can squirt boiling oil out them mouths, and cook your axemen where they stand.”

Daario Naharis gave Grey Worm a smile. “Perhaps the Unsullied should wield the axes. Boiling oil feels like no more than a warm bath to you, I have heard.”

“This is false.” Grey Worm did not return the smile. “These ones do not feel burns as men do, yet such oil blinds and kills. The Unsullied do not fear to die, though. Give these ones rams, and we will batter down these gates or die in the attempt.”

“You would die,” said Brown Ben. At Yunkai, when he took command of the Second Sons, he claimed to be the veteran of a hundred battles. “Though I will not say I fought bravely in all of them. There are old sellswords and bold sellswords, but no old bold sellswords.” She saw that it was true.

Dany sighed. “I will not throw away Unsullied lives, Grey Worm. Perhaps we can starve the city out.”

Ser Jorah looked unhappy. “We’ll starve long before they do, Your Grace. There’s no
food here, nor fodder for our mules and horses. I do not like this river water either. Meereen shits into the Skahazadhan but draws its drinking water from deep wells. Already we’ve had reports of sickness in the camps, fever and brownleg and three cases of the bloody flux. There will be more if we remain. The slaves are weak from the march.”

“Freedmen,” Dany corrected. “They are slaves no longer.”

“Slave or free, they are hungry and they’ll soon be sick. The city is better provisioned than we are, and can be resupplied by water. Your three ships are not enough to deny them access to both the river and the sea.”

“Then what do you advise, Ser Jorah?”

“You will not like it.”


“I would hear it all the same.”

“As you wish. I say, let this city be. You cannot free every slave in the world, Khaleesi. Your war is in Westeros.”

“I have not forgotten Westeros.” Dany dreamt of it some nights, this fabled land that she had never seen. “If I let Meereen’s old brick walls defeat me so easily, though, how will I ever take the great stone castles of Westeros?”

“As Aegon did,” Ser Jorah said, “with fire. By the time we reach the Seven Kingdoms, your dragons will be grown. And we will have siege towers and trebuchets as well, all the things we lack here ... but the way across the Lands of the Long Summer is long and grueling, and there are dangers we cannot know. You stopped at Astapor to buy an army, not to start a war. Save your spears and swords for the Seven Kingdoms, my queen. Leave Meereen to the Meereenese and march west for Pentos.”

“Defeated?” said Dany, bristling.

“When cowards hide behind great walls, it is they who are defeated, Khaleesi,” Ko Jhogo said.

Her other bloodriders concurred. “Blood of my blood,” said Rakharo, “when cowards hide and burn the food and fodder, great khals must seek for braver foes. This is known.”

“It is known,” Jhiqui agreed, as she poured.

“Not to me.” Dany set great store by Ser Jorah’s counsel, but to leave Meereen untouched was more than she could stomach. She could not forget the children on their posts, the birds tearing at their entrails, their skinny arms pointing up the coast road. “Ser Jorah, you say we have no food left. If I march west, how can I feed my freedmen?”

“You can’t. I am sorry, Khaleesi. They must feed themselves or starve. Many and more will die along the march, yes. That will be hard, but there is no way to save them. We need to put this scorched earth well behind us.”

Dany had left a trail of corpses behind her when she crossed the red waste. It was a sight she never meant to see again. “No,” she said. “I will not march my people off to die.” My children. “There must be some way into this city.”

“I know a way.” Brown Ben Plumm stroked his speckled grey-and-white beard. “Sewers.” “Sewers? What do you mean?”

“Great brick sewers empty into the Skahazadhan, carrying the city’s wastes. They might be a way in, for a few. That was how I escaped Meereen, after Scarb lost his head.” Brown Ben made a face. “The smell has never left me. I dream of it some nights.”

Ser Jorah looked dubious. “Easier to go out than in, it would seem to me. These sewers empty into the river, you say? That would mean the mouths are right below the walls.”

“And closed with iron grates,” Brown Ben admitted, “though some have rusted through, else I would have drowned in shit. Once inside, it is a long foul climb in pitch-dark through a maze of brick where a man could lose himself forever. The filth is never lower than waist high, and can rise over your head from the stains I saw on the walls. There’s things down there too. Biggest rats you ever saw, and worse things. Nasty.”

Daario Naharis laughed. “As nasty as you, when you came crawling out? If any man were fool enough to try this, every slaver in Meereen would smell them the moment they emerged.”

Brown Ben shrugged. “Her Grace asked if there was a way in, so I told her ... but Ben Plumm isn’t going down in them sewers again, not for all the gold in the Seven Kingdoms. If there’s others want to try it, though, they’re welcome.”

Aggo, Jhogo, and Grey Worm all tried to speak at once, but Dany raised her hand for silence. “These sewers do not sound promising.” Grey Worm would lead his Unsullied down the sewers if she commanded it, she knew; her bloodriders would do no less. But none of them was suited to the task. The Dothraki were horsemen, and the strength of the Unsullied was their discipline on the battlefield. Can I send men to die in the dark on such a slender hope? “I must think on this some more. Return to your duties.”

~

South of the ordered realm of stakes, pits, drills, and bathing eunuchs lay the encampments of her freedmen, a far noisier and more chaotic place. Dany had armed the former slaves as best she could with weapons from Astapor and Yunkai, and Ser Jorah had organized the fighting men into four strong companies, yet she saw no one drilling here.

~

“There’s the treacherous sow,” he said. “I knew you’d come to get your feet kissed one day.” His head was bald as a melon, his nose red and peeling, but she knew that voice and those pale green eyes. “I’m going to start by cutting off your teats.” Dany was dimly aware of Missandei shouting for help. A freedman edged forward, but only a step. One quick slash, and he was on his knees, blood running down his face. Mero wiped his sword on his breeches. “Who’s next?”

“I am.” Arstan Whitebeard leapt from his horse and stood over her, the salt wind riffling through his snowy hair, both hands on his tall hardwood staff.

“Grandfather,” Mero said, “run off before I break your stick in two and bugger you with —”

The old man feinted with one end of the staff, pulled it back, and whipped the other end about faster than Dany would have believed. The Titan’s Bastard staggered back into the surf, spitting blood and broken teeth from the ruin of his mouth. Whitebeard put Dany behind him. Mero slashed at his face. The old man jerked back, cat-quick. The staff thumped Mero’s ribs, sending him reeling. Arstan splashed sideways, parried a looping cut, danced away from a second, checked a third mid-swing. The moves were so fast she could hardly follow. Missandei was pulling Dany to her feet when she heard a crack. She thought Arstan’s staff had snapped until she saw the jagged bone jutting from Mero’s calf. As he fell, the Titan’s Bastard twisted and lunged, sending his point straight at the old man’s chest. Whitebeard swept the blade aside almost contemptuously and smashed the other end of his staff against the big man’s temple. Mero went sprawling, blood bubbling from his mouth as the waves washed over him. A moment later the freedmen washed over him too, knives and stones and angry fists rising and falling in a frenzy.

Dany turned away, sickened. She was more frightened now than when it had been happening. He would have killed me.

“Your Grace.” Arstan knelt. “I am an old man, and shamed. He should never have gotten close enough to seize you. I was lax. I did not know him without his beard and hair.”

“No more than I did.” Dany took a deep breath to stop her shaking. Enemies everywhere. “Take me back to my tent. Please.”

~

“I had a look at the river wall,” Ser Jorah started. “It’s a few feet higher than the others, and just as strong. And the Meereenese have a dozen fire hulks tied up beneath the ramparts—”

She cut him off. “You might have warned me that the Titan’s Bastard had escaped.”

He frowned. “I saw no need to frighten you, Your Grace. I have offered a reward for his head—”

“Pay it to Whitebeard. Mero has been with us all the way from Yunkai. He shaved his beard off and lost himself amongst the freedmen, waiting for a chance for vengeance. Arstan killed him.”

Ser Jorah gave the old man a long look. “A squire with a stick slew Mero of Braavos, is that the way of it?”

“A stick,” Dany confirmed, “but no longer a squire. Ser Jorah, it’s my wish that Arstan be knighted.”

“No.”

The loud refusal was surprise enough. Stranger still, it came from both men at once.

 ASOS Daenerys VI

No one was calling her Daenerys the Conqueror yet, but perhaps they would. Aegon the Conqueror had won Westeros with three dragons, but she had taken Meereen with sewer rats and a wooden cock, in less than a day. Poor Groleo. He still grieved for his ship, she knew. If a war galley could ram another ship, why not a gate? That had been her thought when she commanded the captains to drive their ships ashore. Their masts had become her battering rams, and swarms of freedmen had torn their hulls apart to build mantlets, turtles, catapults, and ladders. The sellwords had given each ram a bawdy name, and it had been the mainmast of Meraxes—formerly Joso’s Prank—that had broken the eastern gate. Joso’s Cock, they called it. The fighting had raged bitter and bloody for most of a day and well into the night before the wood began to splinter and Meraxes’ iron figurehead, a laughing jester’s face, came crashing through.

Dany had wanted to lead the attack herself, but to a man her captains said that would be madness, and her captains never agreed on anything. Instead she remained in the rear, sitting atop her silver in a long shirt of mail. She heard the city fall from half a league away, though, when the defenders’ shouts of defiance changed to cries of fear. Her dragons had roared as one in that moment, filling the night with flame. The slaves are rising, she knew at once. My sewer rats have gnawed off their chains.

When the last resistance had been crushed by the Unsullied and the sack had run its course, Dany entered her city. The dead were heaped so high before the broken gate that it took her freedmen near an hour to make a path for her silver. Joso’s Cock and the great wooden turtle that had protected it, covered with horsehides, lay abandoned within. She rode past burned buildings and broken windows, through brick streets where the gutters were choked with the stiff and swollen dead. Cheering slaves lifted bloodstained hands to her as she went by, and called her “Mother.”

In the plaza before the Great Pyramid, the Meereenese huddled forlorn. The Great Masters had looked anything but great in the morning light. Stripped of their jewels and their fringed tokars, they were contemptible; a herd of old men with shriveled balls and spotted skin and young men with ridiculous hair. Their women were either soft and fleshy or as dry as old sticks, their face paint streaked by tears. “I want your leaders,” Dany told them. “Give them up, and the rest of you shall be spared.”

“How many?” one old woman had asked, sobbing. “How many must you have to spare us?”

“One hundred and sixty-three,” she answered.

She had them nailed to wooden posts around the plaza, each man pointing at the next. The anger was fierce and hot inside her when she gave the command; it made her feel like an avenging dragon. But later, when she passed the men dying on the posts, when she heard their moans and smelled their bowels and blood ...

Dany put the glass aside, frowning. It was just. It was. I did it for the children.

~

“Flies are the dead man’s revenge.” Daario smiled, and stroked the center prong of his beard. “Corpses breed maggots, and maggots breed flies.”

“We will rid ourselves of the corpses, then. Starting with those in the plaza below. Grey Worm, will you see to it?”

“The queen commands, these ones obey.”

“Best bring sacks as well as shovels, Worm,” Brown Ben counseled. “Well past ripe, those ones. Falling off those poles in bits and pieces, and crawling with ...”

“He knows. So do I.” Dany remembered the horror she had felt when she had seen the Plaza of Punishment in Astapor. I made a horror just as great, but surely they deserved it. Harsh justice is still justice.

“Your Grace,” said Missandei, “Ghiscari inter their honored dead in crypts below their manses. If you would boil the bones clean and return them to their kin, it would be a kindness.”

The widows will curse me all the same. “Let it be done.”

~

She stood. “When I sent you down into the sewers, part of me hoped I’d seen the last of you.[”] [...] “I will admit you helped win me this city ...”

Ser Jorah’s mouth tightened. “We won you this city. We sewer rats.”

“Be quiet,” she said again ... though there was truth to what he said. While Joso’s Cock and the other rams were battering the city gates and her archers were firing flights of flaming arrows over the walls, Dany had sent two hundred men along the river under cover of darkness to fire the hulks in the harbor. But that was only to hide their true purpose. As the flaming ships drew the eyes of the defenders on the walls, a few half- mad swimmers found the sewer mouths and pried loose a rusted iron grating. Ser Jorah, Ser Barristan, Strong Belwas, and twenty brave fools slipped beneath the brown water and up the brick tunnel, a mixed force of sellswords, Unsullied, and freedmen. Dany had told them to choose only men who had no families ... and preferably no sense of smell.

They had been lucky as well as brave. It had been a moon’s turn since the last good rain, and the sewers were only thigh-high. The oilcloth they’d wrapped around their torches kept them dry, so they had light. A few of the freedmen were frightened of the huge rats until Strong Belwas caught one and bit it in two. One man was killed by a great pale lizard that reared up out of the dark water to drag him off by the leg, but when next ripples were spied Ser Jorah butchered the beast with his blade. They took some wrong turnings, but once they found the surface Strong Belwas led them to the nearest fighting pit, where they surprised a few guards and struck the chains off the slaves. Within an hour, half the fighting slaves in Meereen had risen.

 ADWD Daenerys II

“[...] Will you hear my friends? There are seven of them as well.” He brought them forth one by one. “Here is Khrazz. Here Barsena Blackhair, ever valiant. Here Camarron of the Count and Goghor the Giant. This is the Spotted Cat, this Fearless Ithoke. Last, Belaquo Bonebreaker. They have come to add their voices to mine own, and ask Your Grace to let our fighting pits reopen.”

Dany knew his seven, by name if not by sight. All had been amongst the most famed of Meereen’s fighting slaves … and it had been the fighting slaves, freed from their shackles by her sewer rats, who led the uprising that won the city for her. She owed them a blood debt. “I will hear you,” she allowed.

  The advice she received

ASOS Daenerys I

“Sit, good ser, and tell me what is troubling you.”

“Three things.” Ser Jorah sat. “Strong Belwas. This Arstan Whitebeard. And Illyrio Mopatis, who sent them.”

[...] “Which means two traitors yet remain ... and now these two appear. I find that troubling, yes. Never forget, Robert offered a lordship to the man who slays you.”

[...] “Khaleesi, has it occurred to you that Whitebeard and Belwas might have been in league with the assassin? It might all have been a ploy to win your trust.”

[...] “These are Illyrio’s ships, Illyrio’s captains, Illyrio’s sailors ... and Strong Belwas and Arstan are his men as well, not yours.”

[...] “He was not born wealthy. In the world as I have seen it, no man grows rich by kindness. The warlocks said the second treason would be for gold. What does Illyrio Mopatis love more than gold?”

[...] “He is not what he pretends to be. He speaks to you more boldly than any squire would dare.”

[...] “Illyrio Mopatis wants you back in Pentos, under his roof. Very well, go to him ... but in your own time, and not alone. Let us see how loyal and obedient these new subjects of yours truly are. Command Groleo to change course for Slaver’s Bay.”

[...] “Dragons will be as great a wonder in Astapor as they were in Qarth. It may be that the slavers will shower you with gifts, as the Qartheen did. If not ... these ships carry more than your Dothraki and their horses. They took on trade goods at Qarth, I’ve been through the holds and seen for myself. Bolts of silk and bales of tiger skin, amber and jade carvings, saffron, myrrh ... slaves are cheap, Your Grace. Tiger skins are costly.”

[...] “What use are wealthy friends if they will not put their wealth at your disposal, my queen? If Magister Illyrio would deny you, he is only Xaro Xhoan Daxos with four chins. And if he is sincere in his devotion to your cause, he will not begrudge you three shiploads of trade goods. What better use for his tiger skins than to buy you the beginnings of an army?”

[...] “There are dangers at sea as well. Corsairs and pirates hunt the southern route, and north of Valyria the Smoking Sea is demon-haunted. The next storm could sink or scatter us, a kraken could pull us under ... or we might find ourselves becalmed again, and die of thirst as we wait for the wind to rise. A march will have different dangers, my queen, but none greater.”

 ASOS Daenerys II

“Tell her that these have been standing here for a day and a night, with no food nor water. [...] Such is their courage. Tell her that.”

“I call that madness, not courage,” said Arstan Whitebeard, when the solemn little scribe was done. He tapped the end of his hardwood staff against the bricks, tap tap, as if to tell his displeasure. The old man had not wanted to sail to Astapor; nor did he favor buying this slave army. A queen should hear all sides before reaching a decision. That was why Dany had brought him with her to the Plaza of Pride, not to keep her safe.

~

“You have lived long in the world, Whitebeard. Now that you have seen them, what do you say?”

“I say no, Your Grace,” the old man answered at once.


“Why?” she asked. “Speak freely.” Dany thought she knew what he would say, but she wanted the slave girl to hear, so Kraznys mo Nakloz might hear later.

“My queen,” said Arstan, “there have been no slaves in the Seven Kingdoms for thousands of years. The old gods and the new alike hold slavery to be an abomination. Evil. If you should land in Westeros at the head of a slave army, many good men will oppose you for no other reason than that. You will do great harm to your cause, and to the honor of your House.”

“Yet I must have some army,” Dany said. “The boy Joffrey will not give me the Iron Throne for asking politely.”

“When the day comes that you raise your banners, half of Westeros will be with you,” Whitebeard promised. “Your brother Rhaegar is still remembered, with great love.”

“And my father?” Dany said.

The old man hesitated before saying, “King Aerys is also remembered. He gave the realm many years of peace. Your Grace, you have no need of slaves. Magister Illyrio can keep you safe while your dragons grow, and send secret envoys across the narrow sea on your behalf, to sound out the high lords for your cause.”

“Those same high lords who abandoned my father to the Kingslayer and bent the knee to Robert the Usurper?”

“Even those who bent their knees may yearn in their hearts for the return of the dragons.”

“May,” said Dany.

~

“Then leave this place before your heart turns to brick as well. Sail this very night, on the evening tide.”

Would that I could, thought Dany. “When I leave Astapor it must be with an army, Ser Jorah says.”

“Ser Jorah was a slaver himself, Your Grace,” the old man reminded her. “There are sellswords in Pentos and Myr and Tyrosh you can hire. A man who kills for coin has no honor, but at least they are no slaves. Find your army there, I beg you.”

“My brother visited Pentos, Myr, Braavos, near all the Free Cities. The magisters and archons fed him wine and promises, but his soul was starved to death. A man cannot sup from the beggar’s bowl all his life and stay a man. I had my taste in Qarth, that was enough. I will not come to Pentos bowl in hand.”

“Better to come a beggar than a slaver,” Arstan said.

~

“Khaleesi,” he said, taken aback by her fury, “the Unsullied are chosen as boys, and trained—”

~

“When Aegon the Dragon stepped ashore in Westeros, the kings of Vale and Rock and Reach did not rush to hand him their crowns. If you mean to sit his Iron Throne, you must win it as he did, with steel and dragonfire. And that will mean blood on your hands before the thing is done.”

Blood and fire, thought Dany. The words of House Targaryen. She had known them all her life. “The blood of my enemies I will shed gladly. The blood of innocents is another matter. Eight thousand Unsullied they would offer me. Eight thousand dead babes. Eight thousand strangled dogs.”

“Your Grace,” said Jorah Mormont, “I saw King’s Landing after the Sack. Babes were butchered that day as well, and old men, and children at play. More women were raped than you can count. There is a savage beast in every man, and when you hand that man a sword or spear and send him forth to war, the beast stirs. The scent of blood is all it takes to wake him. Yet I have never heard of these Unsullied raping, nor putting a city to the sword, nor even plundering, save at the express command of those who lead them. Brick they may be, as you say, but if you buy them henceforth the only dogs they’ll kill are those you want dead. And you do have some dogs you want dead, as I recall.”

~

“Tell me, then—when he touched a man on the shoulder with his sword, what did he say? ‘Go forth and kill the weak’? Or ‘Go forth and defend them’? At the Trident, those brave men Viserys spoke of who died beneath our dragon banners—did they give their lives because they believed in Rhaegar’s cause, or because they had been bought and paid for?” Dany turned to Mormont, crossed her arms, and waited for an answer.

“My queen,” the big man said slowly, “all you say is true. But Rhaegar lost on the Trident. He lost the battle, he lost the war, he lost the kingdom, and he lost his life. His blood swirled downriver with the rubies from his breastplate, and Robert the Usurper rode over his corpse to steal the Iron Throne. Rhaegar fought valiantly, Rhaegar fought nobly, Rhaegar fought honorably. And Rhaegar died.”

 ASOS Daenerys III

The tall Grazdan with the spiked beard spoke in the Common Tongue, though not so well as the slave girl. “Your Grace,” he growled, “Westeros is being wealthy, yes, but you are not being queen now. Perhaps will never being queen. Even Unsullied may be losing battles to savage steel knights of Seven Kingdoms. I am reminding, the Good Masters of Astapor are not selling flesh for promisings. Are you having gold and trading goods sufficient to be paying for all these eunuchs you are wanting?”

~

Whitebeard stared in shocked disbelief. His hand trembled where it grasped the staff. “No.” He went to one knee before her. “Your Grace, I beg you, win your throne with dragons, not slaves. You must not do this thing—”

~

Dany fed her dragons as she always did, but found she had no appetite herself. She cried awhile, alone in her cabin, then dried her tears long enough for yet another argument with Groleo. “Magister Illyrio is not here,” she finally had to tell him, “and if he was, he could not sway me either. I need the Unsullied more than I need these ships, and I will hear no more about it.”

 ASOS Daenerys IV

Ser Jorah pointed. “Those are sellswords on the flanks. Lances and mounted bowmen, with swords and axes for the close work. The Second Sons on the left wing, the Stormcrows to the right. About five hundred men apiece. See the banners?”

Yunkai’s harpy grasped a whip and iron collar in her talons instead of a length of chain. But the sellswords flew their own standards beneath those of the city they served: on the right four crows between crossed thunderbolts, on the left a broken sword. “The Yunkai’i hold the center themselves,” Dany noted. Their officers looked indistinguishable from Astapor’s at a distance; tall bright helms and cloaks sewn with flashing copper disks. “Are those slave soldiers they lead?”

“In large part. But not the equal of Unsullied. Yunkai is known for training bed slaves, not warriors.”

“What say you? Can we defeat this army?” “Easily,” Ser Jorah said.

“But not bloodlessly.” Blood aplenty had soaked into the bricks of Astapor the day that city fell, though little of it belonged to her or hers.

“We might win a battle here, but at such cost we cannot take the city.”

“That is ever a risk, Khaleesi. Astapor was complacent and vulnerable. Yunkai is forewarned.”

~

“Missandei, what language will these Yunkai’i speak, Valyrian?”

“Yes, Your Grace,” the child said. “A different dialect than Astapor’s, yet close enough to understand. The slavers name themselves the Wise Masters.”

“Wise?” Dany sat crosslegged on a cushion, and Viserion spread his white-and-gold wings and flapped to her side. “We shall see how wise they are,” she said as she scratched the dragon’s scaly head behind the horns.

~

But when Mero was gone, Arstan Whitebeard said, “That one has an evil reputation, even in Westeros. Do not be misled by his manner, Your Grace. He will drink three toasts to your health tonight, and rape you on the morrow.”

“The old man’s right for once,” Ser Jorah said. “The Second Sons are an old company, and not without valor, but under Mero they’ve turned near as bad as the Brave Companions. The man is as dangerous to his employers as to his foes. That’s why you find him out here. None of the Free Cities will hire him any longer.”

“It is not his reputation that I want, it’s his five hundred horse. What of the Stormcrows, is there any hope there?”

“No,” Ser Jorah said bluntly. “That Prendahl is Ghiscari by blood. Likely he had kin in Astapor.”

“A pity. Well, perhaps we will not need to fight. Let us wait and hear what the Yunkai’i have to say.”

 ASOS Daenerys V

Her bloodriders were in such a fever to go meet him that they almost came to blows. “Blood of my blood,” Dany told them, “your place is here by me. This man is a buzzing fly, no more. Ignore him, he will soon be gone.” Aggo, Jhogo, and Rakharo were brave warriors, but they were young, and too valuable to risk. They kept her khalasar together, and were her best scouts too.

“That was wisely done,” Ser Jorah said as they watched from the front of her pavilion. “Let the fool ride back and forth and shout until his horse goes lame. He does us no harm.”

“He does,” Arstan Whitebeard insisted. “Wars are not won with swords and spears alone, ser. Two hosts of equal strength may come together, but one will break and run whilst the other stands. This hero builds courage in the hearts of his own men and plants the seeds of doubt in ours.”

Ser Jorah snorted. “And if our champion were to lose, what sort of seed would that plant?”

“A man who fears battle wins no victories, ser.”

“We’re not speaking of battle. Meereen’s gates will not open if that fool falls. Why risk a life for naught?”

“For honor, I would say.”

“I have heard enough.” Dany did not need their squabbling on top of all the other troubles that plagued her.

~

They watched Oznak zo Pahl dismount his white charger, undo his robes, pull out his manhood, and direct a stream of urine in the general direction of the olive grove where Dany’s gold pavilion stood among the burnt trees. He was still pissing when Daario Naharis rode up, arakh in hand. “Shall I cut that off for you and stuff it down his mouth, Your Grace?” His tooth shone gold amidst the blue of his forked beard.

“It’s his city I want, not his meager manhood.”

~

“I’ve had a look at the landward walls, and I see no point of weakness,” said Ser Jorah Mormont. “Given time, we might be able to mine beneath a tower and make a breach, but what do we eat while we’re digging? Our stores are all but exhausted.”

“No weakness in the landward walls?” [...] “Does that mean we might attack from the river or the sea?”

“With three ships? We’ll want to have Captain Groleo take a good look at the wall along the river, but unless it’s crumbling that’s just a wetter way to die.”

“What if we were to build siege towers? My brother Viserys told tales of such, I know they can be made.”

“From wood, Your Grace,” Ser Jorah said. “The slavers have burnt every tree within twenty leagues of here. [...] [”]

“Did you see them bronze heads above the gates?” asked Brown Ben Plumm. “Rows of harpy heads with open mouths? The Meereenese can squirt boiling oil out them mouths, and cook your axemen where they stand.”

Daario Naharis gave Grey Worm a smile. “Perhaps the Unsullied should wield the axes. Boiling oil feels like no more than a warm bath to you, I have heard.”

“This is false.” Grey Worm did not return the smile. “These ones do not feel burns as men do, yet such oil blinds and kills. The Unsullied do not fear to die, though. Give these ones rams, and we will batter down these gates or die in the attempt.”

“You would die,” said Brown Ben. At Yunkai, when he took command of the Second Sons, he claimed to be the veteran of a hundred battles. “Though I will not say I fought bravely in all of them. There are old sellswords and bold sellswords, but no old bold sellswords.” She saw that it was true.

Dany sighed. “I will not throw away Unsullied lives, Grey Worm. Perhaps we can starve the city out.”

Ser Jorah looked unhappy. “We’ll starve long before they do, Your Grace. There’s no food here, nor fodder for our mules and horses. I do not like this river water either. Meereen shits into the Skahazadhan but draws its drinking water from deep wells. Already we’ve had reports of sickness in the camps, fever and brownleg and three cases of the bloody flux. There will be more if we remain. The slaves are weak from the march.”

“Freedmen,” Dany corrected. “They are slaves no longer.”

“Slave or free, they are hungry and they’ll soon be sick. The city is better provisioned than we are, and can be resupplied by water. Your three ships are not enough to deny them access to both the river and the sea.”

“Then what do you advise, Ser Jorah?”

“You will not like it.”

“I would hear it all the same.”

“As you wish. I say, let this city be. You cannot free every slave in the world, Khaleesi. Your war is in Westeros.”

“I have not forgotten Westeros.” Dany dreamt of it some nights, this fabled land that she had never seen. “If I let Meereen’s old brick walls defeat me so easily, though, how will I ever take the great stone castles of Westeros?”

“As Aegon did,” Ser Jorah said, “with fire. By the time we reach the Seven Kingdoms, your dragons will be grown. And we will have siege towers and trebuchets as well, all the things we lack here ... but the way across the Lands of the Long Summer is long and grueling, and there are dangers we cannot know. You stopped at Astapor to buy an army, not to start a war. Save your spears and swords for the Seven Kingdoms, my queen. Leave Meereen to the Meereenese and march west for Pentos.”

“Defeated?” said Dany, bristling.

“When cowards hide behind great walls, it is they who are defeated, Khaleesi,” Ko Jhogo said.

Her other bloodriders concurred. “Blood of my blood,” said Rakharo, “when cowards hide and burn the food and fodder, great khals must seek for braver foes. This is known.”

“It is known,” Jhiqui agreed, as she poured.

“Not to me.” Dany set great store by Ser Jorah’s counsel, but to leave Meereen untouched was more than she could stomach. She could not forget the children on their posts, the birds tearing at their entrails, their skinny arms pointing up the coast road. “Ser Jorah, you say we have no food left. If I march west, how can I feed my freedmen?”

“You can’t. I am sorry, Khaleesi. They must feed themselves or starve. Many and more will die along the march, yes. That will be hard, but there is no way to save them. We need to put this scorched earth well behind us.”

[...] “There must be some way into this city.”

“I know a way.” Brown Ben Plumm stroked his speckled grey-and-white beard. “Sewers.” “Sewers? What do you mean?”

“Great brick sewers empty into the Skahazadhan, carrying the city’s wastes. They might be a way in, for a few. That was how I escaped Meereen, after Scarb lost his head.” Brown Ben made a face. “The smell has never left me. I dream of it some nights.”

Ser Jorah looked dubious. “Easier to go out than in, it would seem to me. These sewers empty into the river, you say? That would mean the mouths are right below the walls.”

“And closed with iron grates,” Brown Ben admitted, “though some have rusted through, else I would have drowned in shit. Once inside, it is a long foul climb in pitch-dark through a maze of brick where a man could lose himself forever. The filth is never lower than waist high, and can rise over your head from the stains I saw on the walls. There’s things down there too. Biggest rats you ever saw, and worse things. Nasty.”

Daario Naharis laughed. “As nasty as you, when you came crawling out? If any man were fool enough to try this, every slaver in Meereen would smell them the moment they emerged.”

Brown Ben shrugged. “Her Grace asked if there was a way in, so I told her ... but Ben Plumm isn’t going down in them sewers again, not for all the gold in the Seven Kingdoms. If there’s others want to try it, though, they’re welcome.”

#daenerys targaryen #valyrianscrolls #a storm of swords #a dance with dragons #dany passages

[empirelead-a]

HERE IT IS! A COMPLETE UPDATE OF KUVIRA’S BIOGRAPHY! Be sure to read through it  or skimmed through it because I realize it’s really really long. 😬😬😬

Born in a village far off from Omashu and in the middle of nowhere, Kuvira had been nothing but a great burden to both of her parents who found themselves stuck in a loveless marriage after she was conceived out of wedlock during a drunken one-night stand. They paid very little mind to her throughout her childhood, spending most of their days neglecting her where she can almost feel their resentment; they blame her for trapping them in a place they wish to leave and for their dreams to be in shambles. Throughout her time in the village, Kuvira had hardly ever got along with the other villagers and experienced difficulties in conveying her feelings. Things also took a sudden turn when she discovered she’s an earthbender at the age of seven – which is considered to be late – the first bender in over twenty years. Her parents, however, weren’t thrill for the fact their daughter was a bender and were forced to keep a closer eye on her by the other villagers who feared her newfound abilities, believing she’s a curse who brought bad omen—all of them have an Equalist mindset.

Not too long after, Kuvira immediately showed signs of poor control over her bending abilities due to she’s without proper guidance and her lack of control quickly became more prominent as time went by; things would wind up getting damaged, but unbeknownst to them all, her bending responds to her emotions she had trouble in showing. Embarrassed and shame by the others, her parents began taking matters into their own hands when they ignorantly tried to suppress her abilities which all ranged from isolation to punishing her by other means. However, an incident shook her parents up when it nearly resulted in her mother’s death, and after that episode, the two can no longer handle her and could no longer even watch over her in fear of their own lives, and wishing to be free from the child they never asked for. On that very night, they up and left without a word…leaving Kuvira behind. She was left alone and forced to watch over herself since no other villagers dares to go near her. She survived off on scraps and stole food when no one was looking.

One particular day, Kuvira stumbled upon a woman she never seen before in the village. She saw how fancy the woman dressed compare to herself and the other villagers, sneaking up behind her and managed to steal a pouch of money out of the woman’s pocket. She managed to run off without being noticed, getting back to the safety of her house she was still holed up in, but unfortunately, her luck quickly ran out when the woman she stole from found her. Scared, she impulsively earthbent at the woman who easily evaded the attack with her own earthbending. Kuvira became more fearful of the consequences that lies before her and she immediately handed back what she stole from the woman, making her apology, but to her great surprise, the woman brushed the incident aside with a laugh. She, then, introduced herself as Suyin Beifong who was at the village to take a quick break before heading on home after getting a business trip done in Omashu.

After the introduction, Suyin treated Kuvira to lunch. Curious and wondering why she was all alone, Suyin began prodding the younger girl with questions who kept on avoiding to answer them. Eventually, she reluctantly told the older woman her entire story when the topic wouldn’t be left alone: abandoned by her parents who never loved her and were afraid of her. Horrified at what she just heard, it didn’t take long for Suyin to make the decision to take the girl out oof the village where she could already see prejudices rising against benders and knew all too well Dai Li agents could come at any time. And with that, Kuvira left the village with the woman who promised to help her in any way, seeing the potential she holds.

Indeed, Kuvira’s talents flourished under Suyin’s guidance even though she had a rough start, nonetheless she excelled at everything that was taught to her; not only that, she was also taught how to freely express herself, especially when joining the dancing troupe—her mentor never giving up on her, patient with her always. At the age of twelve, she finally began her metalbending training which proved to be more difficult than earthbending. She became frustrated every time she failed to bend the meteorite, but it wasn’t until she finally succeeded when Suyin locked her in a metal box and bending her way out to freedom, it was the same way Suyin was taught to metalbend…and the same way Toph discovered metalbending. At the age of fifteen, she joined the city’s security force team and was promoted as captain at the age of eighteen.

Kuvira have always been quite close with the Beifong Family, having a unique bond with each member. She enjoys Huan’s company who also taught her the ways of metal sculpting and values his quiet nature, going to him when things becomes overwhelming and wanting everything to be still. While Suyin’s her bending teacher, her husband – Baatar Senior – taught her everything she knew in reading and writing, along with basic math and going to him when things becomes too much to handle with his wife. She sees Opal as a little sister, often protecting her from danger and enjoyed rough housing with the twins. But Baatar Junior has always been the one she’s been the closest to, he’s the first friend she ever made—eventually they became romantic partners at eighteen years of age, though kept their relationship a secret from the others. Despite all of this, deep down, Kuvira still knew well enough she isn’t part of the family and as she grew older and aware, she couldn’t help it but to be bitter.

Unfortunately, things with the Beifongs soured when the Earth Kingdom fell into disarray and was on the verge of collapse, chaos spreading across the nation. Wishing to help the people, Kuvira was shocked upon realizing Suyin doesn’t have the intention in helping their nation and refused to step up when the world leaders urgently asked her to. An argument ensued between them when Kuvira tried to convince her to help, but she was quickly shot down and was told not to debate further. Angry, she became disillusioned by the woman she looked up to, never taking responsibilities for the wrongs she did, and finally seeing her for who she really is: a coward. On that same night, Kuvira made the decision to leave Zaofu and hatched a plan to conspire against her mentor, roping Baatar along with her. Within two weeks, she managed to recruit a number of people, along with Varrick and Zhu Li, into her plan. Suyin discovered the plans on the day Kuvira and the others were due to depart, refusing to step down when demanded. In result, she was banished from Zaofu and was ordered to never return, but before leaving, Kuvira vowed she will return—not as the same person Suyin once knew.

The Siege of Ba Sing Se was lead by Kuvira, driving out the bandits and agents of the Red Lotus who ran amok throughout the city, restoring order back to the capital. Her heroic action and good deeds got the attention from the world leaders who made the decision to appoint her the position Suyin refused to take, making her an interim president of the Earth Kingdom. She was also tasked with the job to drive off the bandits roaming around the country, hunting down remaining members of the Red Lotus, and leading the unification campaign—uniting all of the states as one. The title of the Great Uniter was soon given to her by the people of Omashu after she overthrew their tyrannical king. They all proclaimed their loyalty to her, her followers grew each day.

For three years, Kuvira’s intentions were well and started off as good, but over time, things started changing and her entire worldview became different; no longer was she naïve and ignorant to everything. During her travels throughout the nation, she noticed the unjust her people faced and the abuse her people went through, discovering the problems within the Earth Kingdom runs deeper than she thought—problems that began even before the Red Lotus arrival. No longer can she sit idly by, Kuvira took more things into her hands and had taken many drastic actions for the good of her people, not afraid to get her hands bloodied. Sometime around her third year as the Great Uniter, words of the reeducation camps spread, mercy is not shown to her enemies and traitors if they ever crossed the line or did her incredibly wrong. On Prince Wu’s coronation day, Kuvira turned her back on him and the world leaders, overthrowing Prince Wu who’s next in line to take the throne of the now renamed Earth Empire. She would challenge anyone who dares to threaten the peace she brought, warning them she will not hesitate to take action.

After leaving the United Republic, Kuvira immediately embarked her way to Zaofu while having Varrick experiment on spirit vines where it was discovered they could weaponize the vines. When Varrick refused to create a superweapon, she’d threatened his life and ordered him to continue on his work. When she arrived at Zaofu with Baatar and Bolin by her side, the three of them marched into Suyin’s office where she was already waiting for them with her family by her side. Things between them were obviously tense, more so when Kuvira tried to make a negotiation; one where Suyin furiously refused, not wanting to play this game. In return, Kuvira gave the older woman an entire day to give up or face the consequences before she made her leave. On that same very day, she was betrayed by both Bolin and Varrick who attempted to leave. Later that night, her former mentor snuck into her camp and attempted to assassinate her while she slept only to quickly discover she had been tricked when Kuvira anticipated what she’s going to do before ordering her guards to take Suyin and her twins away. That following morning, she and Korra met outside of the city, but when things didn’t go as planned, a fight ensued between them. If Kuvira loses, she’ll let the others go and leave Zaofu alone, and if she wins, Korra must leave and Zaofu will officially be a part of the Earth Empire. In the end, Kuvira bested Korra.

The next move Kuvira made was returning to the United Republic to restore it back into the Earth Empire, making a claim that the land was stolen. Within two weeks, she and of her army marched to the United Republic with the Colossus – a mecha standing at least twenty-four story tall – her fiancé built with a spirit cannon attached to its arm. She nearly succeeded when she sunk several of the United Forces ships, President Raiko gave up and agreed to her terms, however, before things could go any further, Korra and her friends kidnapped Baatar.

Korra radioed to Kuvira, presenting her a new term after she informed the other she has Baatar hostage, saying if she ever wants to see him again then she must leave the United Republic alone and return to the Earth Empire empty handed. Conflicted for a moment, Kuvira finally made a difficult decision when she agreed to the term…only to quickly raise the spirit cannon and aimed it at the warehouse they’re in, taking the shot. She masked her emotions soon after, choosing not to grieve now before continuing on her invasion without Baatar by her side. She’s now hardened at that very moment, knowing she can’t give up now.

She soon became more unstable upon discovering Korra and the others survived the blast. She became unstable, reckless, and more prone to making impulsive decisions, going onto a deep end and allowed her emotions to run wild with anger. At the end, she failed her emotion when the Colossus crumbled when Korra and her friends managed to cut their way into the machine, resulting in a final battle between the Avatar and the Great Uniter. The two survived the fall after the Colossus fell, Kuvira ran off only to discover the spirit cannon was still intact and made one final move before pulling the trigger, a move she came to quickly regret when she’s unable to shut the machine off and the ray’s power amplified with energy due to the cannon being wrapped in raw spirit vines. Korra saved her life, taking a risk when she jumped in front of her and deflected the blast which resulted in the creation of a new spirit portal which they both fell into. For a moment, Kuvira believed she’s dead after awakening and broke down in front of Korra, revealing bits of her past. Upon being shown compassion, she saw the errors of her actions and made the decision to give in, exiting the spirit portal with the Avatar and announced the Earth Empire is no more. She was, then, cuffed and taken to prison.

Locked away far from the outskirts of the United Republic, Kuvira spent those two months pondering on deeply where she’d often think about her past. She thought all of the things that had led her here in this very moment, spiraling into a deep state of anger and bitterness which was apparent when Korra came to visit her. While she does show her remorse of the bad she’d committed, she does not regret the cause she led over the course of those three years—the actual good she had done for the people of the now, once again, named Earth Kingdom. She even expressed those feelings to the court, boldly claiming that she wasn’t guilty for her good cause and reminded everyone of how she’d done more than anyone else combined, and refused to bend the knee to the Republic to say something she doesn’t believe in. Her words, however, didn’t sit well to the others and was ordered to be taken back to prison because her case could continue, running into Suyin who was perhaps the angriest of them all. The older woman gave her former student the last say before leaving without looking back.

Unbeknownst to them all, one of Kuvira’s commanders – Guan – refused to let the Earth Empire fall and have been secretly running it in her place with the remaining army who refused to stand down as well. Reports of his presence became known by the others who believed he was planning to march to Gaoling to put a stop to the first democratic election. Knowing too well things with Guan may go badly and Korra decided to pay Kuvira another visit for advice. After hearing her commander has taken control in her place, Kuvira suggested coming along to put a stop to Guan, knowing he’s dangerous. At first, the Avatar refused to allow Kuvira to come along until realizing there was no other plan to stop him. The very next day, Kuvira was given a temporary release to assist Team Avatar where her presence was obviously unwanted.

When arriving in Gaoling, Guan’s forces are already there. Kuvira attempted to talk him down, turning to her former forces and asked them to step down as well, but neither of them heeded to her words—listening only to Guan. Having to see this, she challenged him to a duel, but when he refused, she made an attack on him and demanded for him to give him after she managed to overpower him, choking him in the air. Before things can escalate further, Kuvira was knocked out via the belt she wore which shocked her. When she later awoke, she was placed in a special cage and was told by the others she’ll be sent back to Republic City.

Korra and Wu left immediately afterwards in search of Toph, wanting her to go against Guan in the election. It wasn’t long until Guan’s forces broke into the airship before it could take off, attacking Kuvira and the rest of Team Avatar. The three of them were brought to Guan’s camp, strapped onto a chair where Doctor Sheng is planning to use her invention on them: a brainwashing machine. However, Kuvira was lucky enough to manage to break free and escaped to safety, but the same can’t be said to Asami, Bolin, and Mako who she had to leave behind. She made a call to Suyin when she’s far from Guan’s camp.

When Suyin arrived with Opal and the twins, Korra and Wu arrived as well with Toph in tow who reluctantly agree to run in the election against Guan. Suyin made her mistrust to Kuvira known and gave her a warning, telling her she won’t hesitate to take action if she does anything that may be even slightly suspicious. Kuvira silently agreed to her words, knowing time can’t be wasted any further. Before they can leave, Guan and his forces arrived along with Asami, Bolin, and Mako, they’ve all been brainwashed successfully. They managed to escape, grabbing Asami, but in result, Wu was captured.

Traveling to Zaofu was a silent ride, realizing Guan is more dangerous with Sheng by his side with her invention. The silent ride was also tense between Kuvira and Suyin which can obviously be felt in the air. Once they finally arrived at Zaofu, she was immediately taken to a guarded room by Suyin’s order where she found herself running into Baatar. Shocked to finally see him again, she made her apologies to him and asked for his help to stop Guan. He refused, heartbroken and no longer trusts her, leaving her and retreated back to his room, only convinced when Korra asked for his help. He and Kuvira ended up working immediately, working on recreating Sheng’s machine the entire day until it was completed. Asami was brought into the room where they tried to reverse the brainwashing effects, but to no avail, they failed many times.

Guessing, Kuvira figured the only way to help Asami and the others was to test on a subject who hasn’t fallen victim to the original brainwashing machine, volunteering herself to test out her theory. She was propelled into a series of flashbacks of her past, seeing everything from her childhood to her teenage years and to her time as the Great Uniter, seeing everything that was wrong with her until she was soon brought back when she heard Suyin’s voice calling out to her. Asami was soon brought back into the room for another attempt where it was successful this time around. The happy moment was cut after they have all been informed Guan has won the election. After informing the situation to Zhu Li, Kuvira was told to return to the United Republic. Before she was to be escorted back into her room, she told Baatar how much she regretted for what she did to him and wished she didn’t have to throw their future away, and that their happiness mattered. Then telling him she truly loves him, her feelings for him has always been true.

Her words didn’t sit well with Suyin who went after her and stopped her in her tracks, telling her angrily she has no right to even be saying those things and believed she was lying; saying she hasn’t changed and is still the same. No longer can she take the verbal abuse any longer, Kuvira made a retort of her own and saying how she’s here to own up her mistakes, how she’s doing everything to change; adding how the only one who hasn’t change was Suyin, how it seems the older woman has yet to own everything up and how she’s always hiding away like a coward she always has been. In return, Suyin made her last say when she coldly told the guards to take her away and how she regrets taking her in. And Kuvira told her she would never have to see her again.

That night, it was discovered Kuvira had disappeared into the night after finding the guards unconscious. She couldn’t be found in the outskirts of Zaofu, many believed she played them all and betrayed them.

In truth, Kuvira left Zaofu and made her way back to Gaoling where she snuck into the town and into Guan’s office without getting detected by anyone. She made her presence known to Guan, saying that she wasn’t here to stop him and was only here to return to the Earth Empire. Guan made him adamant that he won’t hand her over control, though she has no plan to return to power and made a proposition, saying how she wishes for her memories to be wiped away, in return, she would be a dutiful servant to his control. Guan gleefully agreed to her terms and immediately set the plan to motion, leading her to Sheng’s lab. While distracted, Kuvira’s nature has been revealed when she attacked them from behind, but Guan had already anticipated her move and ordered for Bolin and Mako to attack her who came bursting into the lab.

Korra found Kuvira during the midst of battle, finding things to be suspicious and didn’t believe she betray them from the start and immediately sprung into action with the others upon seeing that she’s in danger and knew all too well it’s a battle she can’t fight alone in. They all fought the remaining Earth Empire soldiers and captured those who tried to escape when things started falling apart. Kuvira went after Guan who ran off when he knew this war is over, though she managed to catch up to him and overpowered him easily, enraged at the things he committed and for going against her, for doing things behind her back and not standing down when she initially told him to. She was ready to end him right there once and for all, however Suyin who came along with Korra attempted to talk her down from killing him and let him face justice instead. Infuriated, Kuvira simply said she’s doing something everyone’s too afraid to do, something that should’ve been done long ago and how she’s the only one who ever done something. Finally, Suyin admitted that she wasn’t wrong and how she should’ve done something to help long ago – maybe things wouldn’t go so awry – that she is here now to do just that, telling her killing Guan will not solve anything nor would it bring peace; that he would die as a martyr to his supporters instead and someone else may replace him. Suyin added she is here now and made a promise she’ll do more to help and will personally bring Guan down to his knees to face justice. As Kuvira began drawing blood on Guan’s throat, she eventually pulled the blades away and came into a resignation, finding no joy in ending him; no joy of her mistake that’s in her mercy. She finally surrendered and fell down onto her knees, exhausted

After Guan and Sheng’s arrest, Kuvira helped the others to restore order back to Gaoling and helped the people to restore their free-will back, along with Bolin, Mako, and Wu. The election has returned and Toph is all too happy to drop out, returning to the swamp when it was announced the people can have their elections on their own terms.

Days later after leaving Gaoling, Kuvira was once more placed in custody and sent back to prison as soon as she arrived at Republic City. Before her second trial, she began to ponder about the events that had occurred and thought about the things she had done during her reign as the Great Uniter…more deeply than before. On the day of her trial, she admitted to her guilt and her participation of the cruel things that had happened upon realizing her actions had hurt many people; albeit – something she kept to herself – she still held onto the fact good came out during those three years of the unification campaign and the love she has for her nation has always been the source of her driving force. She did all she could do for her people, but realizing she perhaps done too much for power also got far into her head and became paranoid to those who stood in her way, seeing what Guan had done opened her eyes at how little she thought about the consequences of her actions and how she should’ve watched more closely of the things that had happened behind her back. It stung a bit to know how very little control she actually had.

Her words shocked the others who weren’t expecting her to admit her guilt so quickly, so soon. The court, however, ended there so the judges could discuss her punishment and came to the decision to still lock her away…a decision she wasn’t surprised at, but was surprised she won’t be locked away for life. She took the deal, remembering the promise she made a while back at how she would take any punishment the court sees fit. After all, her crimes can never be forgotten either.

Before Kuvira was to be taken away, Suyin approached her to speak to her about all of the things she had done during her time as the Great Uniter and how she tried to fix her mistake. While she isn’t ready to forgive her, she is still willing to give her another chance and how she should’ve done more to help, something Kuvira said there’s nothing to be sorry about, what’s done is done. Understandable, things were awkward and tensed between them. Suyin brought up a suggestion, saying she could arrange for her to serve her sentence at Zaofu under house arrest with Baatar. Kuvira refused, saying she will not allow any favors and she will be abiding to the Republic’s rule. And rather than being sent far at the outskirts of the city, she was placed in a cell at Republic City, though still heavily guarded.

During her time in prison, Suyin came to visit her every once in a while along with Korra who’d come by to help rehabilitate her with several meditation sessions, seeing the problems they both share. Five years later, Kuvira has been released from prison, though not as a free woman yet. Seeing how she’s still young and a strong bender, the leaders of the world placed her under the United Forces’s watch where she will be performing hard labor work and assisting people who are in need.

#☯ | iron runs through these veins; musing ▬ about kuvira #// in all honesty you could just skimmed through the middle chunk of this #rote spoilers

[nauseateddrive]

BROWNIE OVER SINK by Patrick Daniel

Every short story I wrote in that period ended up being 846 words long. In an effort to bring this state of affairs to an end I took up a job in an office. The desk was covered with pale summer moons from the undersides of energy drinks, and these caught the sleeves of the coat and the seams of the gloves I had to keep on in there. My job was to go through documents replacing each ampersand with the word ‘and’, which apparently had to be a manual job because of the presence of ampersands in the code. I went about this with three fingers drumrolling across the relevant letters while the main part of my attention was trying and failing to get further down the page of the book that was open in my lap. It led to ‘Dan’. It led to ‘nad’. 

Sat to my right was a bloke called Adrian. Legend had it that ‘the boyband’ was his vice of choice, which is to say he liked to take on a pint, a line of cocaine, a cigarette and a spliff in crazed simultaneity. He lived near the university. 

“Continue to live in the vicinity of an institution you’re disgraced from because it builds character,” he said. 

He explained that the PhD had been on the way a certain poet’s use of a plus sign instead of the word ‘and’ indicated that the presence in the poems of what had commonly been thought of as em-dashes ought to be thought of instead as minuses, or so his thesis went, the words after the line detracting from the truth of the words before. Prising all of that apart. 

“I went quite publicly insane,” he said. “You can’t treat art like it’s maths.” 

I didn’t tell him what they had asked me to do at this desk each day but laughed privately to myself at the strange connection, announced the arrival of the supervirus.

“What did you just call me?” said the supervisor. 

“Just my dyslexia playing up!”

My main impression of this supervisor was that he referred to specific prisons by name a lot, in cryptic utterances to the tune of ‘didn’t realise we were in Bure’ or ‘you’ll see Wayland.’ 

“Put that book down or you’ll see Wayland,” he said, and then departed. 

I looked out at the tree branches which were at the level of the floor we were on. These were slung here and there with plastic bags picked up off the ground by the wind to billow in position like flags. I redirected my attention to the interior. They had really overdone it with the pot plants thing, to the extent that it felt weird to be indoors and yet bound between so many piles of soil. 

We sat in silence for the rest of the day. Maybe the supervisor had saved me the trouble. The novel in my lap was about FBI guys in the run-up to the Kennedy assassination, and I had been finding that the dedication and lack of cynicism applied by these men to their working lives came at the expense of the idea that they were tough and brave. 

The supervisor had been at the office the longest and had eventually attained a kind of authority from this fact that might not even have been official or reflected in a higher rate of pay. 

I understood what it must have been like to live in the vicinity of an institution you were disgraced from. A person who eats his meals over a sink understands that he does this thing in front of a window.

*

I was with Lydia at the market getting some kind of reputed cookie she had heard about with a brownie inside it and a nostalgic lunchbox-classic chocolate bar plonked across the top of it. She wasn’t particularly into drinking and so presumably this would be the kind of stuff we would do together. Perhaps there was redemption there. The coffee that went with it was about as good as the coffee is at a place by the bus station where you buy a coffee so you can use the printer. 

“I challenge you as a writer to tell me something disgusting enough to put me off a food item of this magnitude.” 

“I used to get stinging pains in my arsehole as a child. I realised this was because I was biting off my fingernails and swallowing them, which caused the fingernails to line my turds like the spikes around spike-headed clubs. Eventually I stopped swallowing the fingernails and instead started idly discarding them around the house. My mother would always later find the full ten piled up by where I was sat and she would gather them up in this one black ramekin. She would place the ramekin by my bedroom door to joshingly confront me with my disgusting habit. Your turn.” 

She said that she couldn’t compete with that, but that she had “always been taken with that backwards thing of how you know it was a good bath and sorely needed when the bathtub smells bad afterwards.” 

That night the excess of sugar caused me to dream that a word gets written across the surface of the town and all who read it perish. Only the town’s illiterates survive – a contingent comprised of one adult illiterate and, of course, all of the town’s babies. As the babies become adults they wonder why whatever killed their parents spared this one aging, imperfect guardian who has tried and failed to raise them in his image. As the years beat on they suspect it has something to do with illiteracy.

*

Everyone at the company was a transparent demonstration of the type of night’s sleep behind them. I realised that Adrian must have lived with pub and restaurant workers who made loud noises late at night on Sundays and Mondays, because there were tell-tale marks on his face from sleeping on his back wearing too-tight ear protectors of the kind used in clay-pigeon shooting and chainsaw work – perils of different working cultures living on top of each other. 

“Go easy on the supervirus,” he said, adjusting his jaw after the night long vice-like grip of protective equipment. “Doesn’t he strike you as a bit too heavy on his feet to make fun of in good conscience? You weren’t to know.” 

“Adrian,” I said. “You’re a real saint.” 

Under the desk I made a list of the various well-worn metaphors for what I was up against. By lunchtime I had realised that these metaphors fell into roughly two camps: negotiations with some internal disconnection (stammering, impotence, trying and failing to remember something), and negotiations with some external, withheld satisfaction (difficulty tuning an instrument, fruitless chiselling in archaeological ventures and speculative mining). 

It led to ‘DNA’. 

Pocket dictionary of the saints, received in childhood as a present from an elderly relative along with the bigoted instruction that I check it for the name of any potential friend before committing to the friendship. The cover boasted that the contents gave biographical due to over 10,000 saints, which struck me at a young age with a sense of the enormity of virtue. I was at an impressionable and credulous age when I received this object and, true to form, instead of rejecting the elderly relative’s advice I took the book to school with me each day. This was the kind of guilelessness that left me at a loose end company-wise during the early years of secondary school. Struck for something to read at these times, I would set out to get through my pocket dictionary of the saints cover to cover. I got as far as ‘Adrian’ before I became tall and people started to like me.

END

Patrick Daniel is a writer from Norfolk, UK. His short stories have appeared in Openwork Magazine, Necessary Fiction, and as part of Hello America’s Stories Mixtape.

[imwastingmylifeinhere]

High on Love

Fierrochase week, day six: alternative fandoms au (Voltron)

Summary: When Team Voltron visits an alien planet to talk negotiations, Alex and Magnus decide to go for a little walk, nothing dangerous, just a walk. ... except Alex gets hit by an alien flower that makes her fall for the first person she sees. And who might that be? Magnus. Of-fucking-course.

Don't complain about the title, please, I know it's cheesy as hell but it was either that or Alien Flower Love Drugs so I flipped a coin and this is the title you get. Anyway, Lovebug (or flower) au, because I love writing Alex as a shameless flirt and Magnus almost having a heart attack because his crush is flirting with him. I hope you like this!

It all started with that fucking flower.

Team Voltron was currently staying at one of the planets that had decided to join them in their fight against the Garla. The planet was the most forest-y place Magnus had ever seen, it was like an ecologist’s paradise, just plants and trees and flowers as far as the eye could see (which wasn’t that far considering the thick foliage, but still.) Sam, Blitzen and Hearthstone were talking with the planet’s Elder Council about battle plans and politics and things Magnus or the rest of the team didn’t have the patience for, so they decided to leave the politics to the Black Paladin and the last Alteans and explore the planet’s capitol. You say they’re lazy, Magnus says they’re connecting with their new allies (and being lazy).

Magnus and the other Paladins walked around the city’s central square. They were looking up so much their necks were cranking up, but it was worth it. Every single building in the city was a tree, as thick as a skyscraper and as tall as two of them stacked on top of each other. Their orange, purple, pink and green leaves cast beautiful shadows on the ground and the monkey-like people that walked around them. Houses and shops were somehow sculpted inside the trees without stopping them from growing and stairwells, ladders and ridges led to all the different doors and balconies dotting the trees’ trunks. Ladders and walkways connected the trees with the platforms floating above their heads, reminding Magnus of mystical treehouse cities from movies on steroids.

Soon, the group found themselves walking on those same platforms, several feet above the ground. T.J dragged the Green and Blue Paladins to a food cart selling whatever food people here ate and Halfborn was examining the food with interest while Mallory was trying her best to sneak away before they made her try it. That left Magnus with Alex,  the Red Lion’s Paladin looking at the vines climbing the sides of the trees like she wanted to grab one and Tarzan her way around the city. Magnus wouldn’t be surprised if she did that.

“I wonder what’s at the top of these trees,” Alex mumbled out loud. Her eyes were trained on the foliage of a pink-leafed tree and Magnus had to remind himself once more not to stare because they’ve already had that conversation and he doesn’t need his crush asking him again why he was staring. It’s because she’s beautiful and he’s weak, that’s why.

“I dunno,” the Yellow Paladin said. “Maybe more shops? Or maybe there’s nothing up there because it’s so high.”

“I want to find out! Come on!” Alex exclaimed as she grabbed his hand and dragged him along, her eyes sparkling in that familiar way that let Magnus know something was about to go surprisingly well or horribly wrong.

Alex dragged him to the side of one of the trees were thick vines hugged the trunk. The trees were so huge that some of their creases were big enough for Magnus to lie down in. It’s probably what made climbing them so easy for the locals, though those opposable thumbs on their feet might also help. Alex took a vine in her hand and tugged it.

“You’re not thinking of climbing up this thing, are you?” Magnus asked, even though he knew that’s probably exactly what she was thinking about and that he wouldn’t be able to stop her even if he wanted to.

“Yeah?” Alex said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “It’ll be fun. Plus I haven’t gone climbing in forever.”

Magnus couldn’t really argue with that. Both he and Alex loved the outdoors and exploring each planets forests and jungles was one of their favorite things to do on new planets. They’ve exchanged stories of the times they went camping or hiking on earth and they took every chance they got to do it again. Hiking through the forest, even if it was a blue forest with devilish cat-like creatures that wanted to eat his soul, made Magnus relax and momentarily forget that he was in the middle of an intergalactic war with the fate of the universe resting on the shoulders of a bunch of teenagers in giant robotic kitties.

Magnus sighed and took hold of a vine to see if it was sturdy. “Okay, let’s do this.”

Alex beamed at him and Magnus decided not to think too hard about how mesmerizing her eyes looked with all the differently colored leaves casting shadows in them. Quiznack, he was in deep.

They slowly made their way up the tree and Magnus had to admit it was a pretty nice climb. The tree’s ridges and creases coupled with the thick vines made perfect footholds and handholds and they made their way up the tree swiftly. Alex had gotten the lead and she was climbing just above him, moving across the vines expertly. She was just as agile as her Lion. Magnus looked up to see where Alex was going and if there were any good places to grab on nearby. Instead, what he good was, um… a good view of Alex’s rear, let’s say, and he quickly looked away flustered. That was awkward and he was definitely not doing it again. His mother raised him with manners, damnit!

Eventually, after passing by several windows of curious locals, they made it to the top of the tree. Thankfully, the tree Alex had decided to climb wasn’t as tall as some of the other’s and they were already high up when they started climbing. Up here, the tree’s branches fanned out, intertwining with the other trees and creating the domed-like ceiling of leaves above the city. Seeing all these giant branches around him made Magnus feel like he was an insect, but it was definitely an interesting sight. They moved across the tree’s top, admiring all the beautiful, alien looking plants that twisted around the tree, keeping a good distance from them because you never know when one of them will try to eat you.

They were in a sort of clearing in the middle of tree where the biggest branches met when it happened. Magnus was looking at some pearlescent flower that spread its petals and started glowing every time his shadow was over it when Alex called out, “Hey, look at this!”

Magnus turned and saw her pointing at a dark red flower, its petals fading into pink at the top of its bell-like shape. When Alex walked closer to the flower it started trembling and sort of… humming? Magnus was about to tell her she should probably step away when Alex poked the flower. It trembled even harder, its humming louder and a warm light emanating from inside it. Then, with a puff, it opened and blew a fine yellow powder right into Alex’s face.

Alex yelled in surprise and started coughing violently, tripping and falling on her knees among the branches. “Alex!” Magnus cried out and run to her as fast as he could. She was still coughing a bit, rubbing at her eyes to get the powder out. “Are you okay?”

Magnus gave Alex a hand and helped her back on her feet as she finally opened her eyes. They were glossy, like she had just woken up and she didn’t quite see clearly yet. Her eyes seemed to focus as she looked at him and a bright smiled spread across her face. “Magnus!” She sounded so happy when she said his name you’d think they hadn’t seen each other in years instead of a few seconds. Even weirder, she immediately lunged at him and hugged him, wrapping her arms around his back and nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck.

“A-Alex?” he stammered out, his hands hovering awkwardly around her body. Having her at such a close proximity so suddenly wasn’t good for his health if his heart palpitations were anything to go by.

“You’re so warm,” Alex cooed into his neck. “Like a big teddy bear.”

Blood rushed to Magnus’s face Alex nuzzled into his neck and he tried his best to think straight in a situation like this. What had that flower done to Alex?

“Um, maybe we should go find the others,” the Yellow Paladin managed to say despite the fact he felt this close to fainting.

Alex pulled her face away from Magnus’s neck to look at him. Magnus didn’t even have enough time to feel relieved for the extra space because Alex looked at him with a pouting expression that looked so weird on her face Magnus didn’t know what to think about it. “Do we have to?” Alex all but whined. “I’d rather stay here. I want to cuddle.”

I may have dreamed of this but this is not how it happened in my fantasies, Magnus thought, panicking in the inside. “How about we go find the others and we cuddle when we’re back at the castle? I-it’ll be more comfortable?”

Alex looked at him skeptically. “Do you promise?”

“Ah, y-yeah, I do.” Magnus never would have thought they’d come a day when he wouldn’t jump on the opportunity to cuddle with Alex, but apparently there’s a first for everything.

The promise seemed to appease Alex, who let him go and took his hand to lead him back the way they came. “Okay!”

The climb down the tree was trick, especially since Alex would stay too far away from him. Still, they made it to the walkway and started heading towards where they had last seen the other Paladins. Somewhere along the trip Alex intertwined their fingers together and smiled at him happily as they walked. It was almost eerie to see Alex with such a sweet smile instead of her trademark smirk.

“There you are!” Mallory yelled when she spotted them. The Blue Paladin run towards them, Halfborn and T.J close behind her. “We’ve been looking all over for you! Where have you-“Mallory stopped suddenly as her eyes fell on their joint hands. “Why is Alex holding you hand like you’re a couple in a brochure for a wedding planning company?”

“Did you finally get together?” T.J asked, the resident firearms and defense expert’s eyes glimmering with hope. T.J was probably the number one shipper along with Halfborn and Mallory.

Magnus’s whole face flushed red. “N-no! There was this weird flower and it started glowing and humming and then it poofed and blew something in Alex’s face and she’s like this now and I don’t know what to do!”

Apparently his freak out worried them enough because Halfborn gave Mallory a concerned look. “Maybe we should go find Sam and the others,” he said. “They might know what’s going on.”

“Y-yeah, okay, let’s do this,” Magnus said and they headed off to the Council building. Magnus had to do his best not to focus on how nice Alex’s hand felt in his own or how nice it felt when she started tracing circles on his knuckles. He especially tried to ignore the way every local seemed to eye them with that same content smile, like the way a grandparent would sigh and talk about “young love”. Whatever was happening, it seemed like the locals knew what it was about.

They reached the entrance of the Council Hall, where Sam, Blitzen and Hearthstone talked with one of the Elders, a wispy looking tall woman with white fur and long purple robes with intricate designs on them (Magnus was sure Blitzen would make tons of notes about their fashion styles and trends).

“Sam!” Mallory called out. “Something happened to Alex!”

Sam turned to face them, concern written on her face, but also a familiarity that came with Alex running headfirst into trouble more times than one can count. “What happened?”

“There- There was a weird flower and- and now she’s like this,” Magnus said, panting and flushing bright red as Alex decided to step closer and press their sided together.

“A flower, you say?” the Elder said. Her puffy tail swayed behind her and her eyes flickered from Magnus to Alex, who was now resting her head on Magnus’s shoulder. “I think I might now what this is about, but we should get the Red Paladin to the Hospital to test it first.”

Magnus nodded quickly and followed the Elder as she led them to the Hospital, a large building taking up most of its tree. Once inside, the Elder walked up to the front desk, were the receptionist bowed at her and they talked in their mother tongue, a singsong language with a lot of clicking sounds and vowels. The receptionist seemed to understand what was going on and she sent the Yellow Paladin a smile over the counter. Magnus really had no idea what was happening and was having a really hard time thinking of something when Alex was pressed up against his side and was holding his hand.

“Dis way, pleaze,” a nurse said to Alex, her accent much thicker than the Elder’s. Alex frowned at the nurse and didn’t let go of Magnus’s hand. If anything, she held onto him even tighter than before.

“No,” she said to the nurse curtly. The nurse didn’t seem annoyed by the response, almost like she was expecting it.

“W-why don’t you go with the nurse, Alex?” Magnus said. His stuttering seemed to have eased off, but it was still there. “I-I’ll wait for you here until you come back.”

This time Alex agreed much quicker. “Okay!” She smiled at him and followed the nurse into a room across the wooden hallway, but not before giving Magnus a kiss on the cheek. Magnus was left watching her go, his face getting redder by the minute as his friends grinned at him.

“Well, if what this flower did to her is that she wants to kiss you all the time, I don’t think it’s that bad,” Halfborn said with a smirk. Magnus glared at him and made an incomprehensible sound that meant Yes, it’s bad because at this rate my heart will explode and I’ll turn into a pile of mush on the ground!

As they waited for Alex to come out of the examination room, a nurse came and asked Magnus to describe the flower as well as what Alex had looked like after it had blown its spores in her face. Magnus did his best to describe the alien (well, local for them) flower and was able to pick it out from a book with local flowers that he was shown. It’s name and a description of it was next to the picture but Magnus couldn’t read the language.

A couple of minutes later, the nurse that had left with Alex came back and asked Sam, Blitzen and Hearthstone to follow her. They were gone for so long Magnus started worrying that the plant was poisonous and Alex was going to die.

“Calm down,” Mallory said, like that had ever actually helped someone. “Alex will be fine.”

Magnus was about to retaliate but the examination room’s door opened and Alex came out, all but running to where Magnus was and plopping down next to him, smiling at him brightly. He was pretty sure Alex never smiled at him this sweetly when she wasn’t pulling a prank on him.

“So?” he asked Alex once she came closer. “What’s wrong with Alex?”

Sam bit her lip, a nervous habit she had, and Magnus immediately started worrying. Oh no, she’s sick and she’s dying. “Well,” Sam started saying, rubbing the side of her neck with her prosthetic hand, “it seems the plant that blew up in Alex’s face creates a sort of toxin that makes the victim fall in love with the first person they see.”

Magnus’s face paled and he gulped, sending a side glance to Alex, who was resting against his shoulder, their fingers laced between them. When did my life become a bad fanfiction? (When he stepped inside a giant mechanical cat, probably, but it was a rhetorical question).

Halfborn, T.J and Mallory started laughing at the panic on Magnus’s face because friendship. (To be honest, he would have done the same in their place.)

“How long will it last for?” Magnus asked, trying his best to ignore his friends’ laughter.

Sam bit her lip again. Oh, shit. “For about twenty-four hours. Maybe forty-eight. Possibly more.”

Magnus’s eyes widened and he threw his head backwards with a groan. “Great, I’m going to die.” Alex giggled at him – giggled, fucking  giggled. Quiznack, he wasn’t going to last a day. “I’m glad to know my suffering amuses you,” Magnus groaned.

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” Alex said with a grin before leaning back against his side again.

“Isn’t there a medicine or something that can get rid of this quicker?” Magnus asked. He would go insane by the time Alex got better otherwise.

Blitzen shook his head. “Unfortunately, not,” the Altean Councilor said. “I’m afraid you’ll have to ride it out.”

Magnus groaned again. Somebody, give me strength or I’ll die before the week is over.

/

They went back to the castle soon after once the political negotiations were over. They stripped off their armor (thankfully Alex didn’t stick by his side during that too) and collapsed unceremoniously on the couch the way only tired teenagers knew how. Even T.J looked tired and god knows that boy has the energy of a five year old that had too much sugar.

A couple minutes later they were sitting around the table, eating whatever T.J managed to whip up with the ingredients he picked up on the planet. The guy could make something edible and (generally) tasty out of anything. He could even cook a weasel or something! He’d probably make a soup.

Despite Alex’s condition, dinner went by pretty normally. Mallory and T.J talked about everything they had seen while walking around the capitol’s square while Halfborn geeked out over plethora of things from the planet and Sam run them through the negotiations that happened. Still, Alex was sitting a bit closer to Magnus than she had too and every time one of them moved to use the cutlery or drink water their elbows hit against each other.

“Oh, you have something on your face,” Alex said at one point. Magnus raised a napkin to his face to try and clean whatever food had strayed from his mouth, but Alex was quick to stop him. “Let me do that,” she said and took the napkin from his fingers. She leaned in extremely close and gently wiped the stain from his face. Magnus was completely frozen during the hall thing, just sending nervous glances at his friends who looked on like they were watching the greatest comedy of all time.

“There,” Alex said once the stain was completely wiped off, leaning back and returning to her food like she hadn’t just caused Magnus’s heart to skip who knows how many beats.

“Oh, this is going to be so much fun,” the Green Paladin said with a grin.

Soon afterwards, they were all done with their food and they were putting the plates, glasses and cutlery away. If Magnus ignored the fact that they were in a giant castle-ship in space, two of them were full aliens and another two were half aliens it was almost like they were back on earth, just having a peaceful dinner (or as peaceful as it got with them). Magnus was taking a last sip of water from his glass before putting it away when Alex spoke up.

“Magnus, can we sleep together tonight?”

Magnus, of course, choked on his water. As he coughed frantically to try and get the liquid out of his lungs, Sam looked at them with her face flushed red, looking extremely scandalized, Halfborn and Mallory were laughing and whistling and T.J was singing fucking Silent Whisper. Blitzen and Hearthstone just looked confused.

Alex, on the other hand, looked completely nonplused. “Well?” she asked. “You said we would cuddle when we came back to the castle.”

Magnus set his glass down and breathed deeply to get his heart rate back to normal after almost choking. Thank Voltron, she was talking about cuddling. “Ah, yeah, alright, we can sleep together.”

Of course, even if Alex had simply been talking about cuddling, that didn’t stop Halfborn from yelling, “Use protection!” as Alex and Magnus made their way to the Yellow Paladin’s room. Ah, yes, the magic of friendship.

The walk to Magnus’s was a lot like how their walk through the city’s center – awkward, with Alex standing way too close for Magnus’s health and Magnus’s hands sweating enough to provide water for an entire city. They stopped by Alex’s to get her pajamas and then went to Magnus’s room, which is when they encountered another problem.

Now, Magnus generally didn’t have a problem with changing around other people. Two years in the streets before being picked up the Garrison feel-good-about-yourself project made sure of that. But there was something very different between changing in a street corner out of necessity, changing in front of bored classmates and changing in front of your crush who was currently in love with you because of an alien flower.

In the end, Magnus decide to just not think about it and get over with it quickly. He took off his jacket and hanged it on the back of his chair. He could feel Alex’s eyes on him from where she was sitting on his bed but he opted to ignore it and pulled his shirt over his head as well. Alex’s approving hums were really not helping his blush. Then, as he was unzipping his jeans, he felt Alex wrapping her arms around his waist.

“A-Alex!” he yelped, the blushing on his face and neck becoming ten times worse. “What are you doing?”

Alex nuzzled against his back and Magnus could feel her breath against his neck. “I’m hugging you.”

“Y-yeah, I know that, but why now?” I’m going to die, this is how I died people. I’m fighting in an intergalactic war and I’m going to die from too much exposure to Alex Fierro. “I-I’m trying to change.”

“Because I wanted to,” Alex replied simply, like it was that obvious, and maybe to her it was. He felt the edges of her lips against his neck, feather light, and heard her whisper, “You’re very pretty.”

Magnus’s heart beat as loudly as a drum and he struggled to think straight for just a minute so he could get her to let him go. “Um, why don’t you go wait on the bed until I put on my pajamas?”

Alex moaned against his neck and quiznack, this is a dangerous situation. “But I want to hug you.”

“You can hug me as much as you want when we get in bed,” I never thought I’d be saying that to Alex Fierro, what has my life become? “But I need to put on my pajamas first.”

Alex huffed but thankfully let go of him. “Alright, but don’t take too long!”

Magnus nodded and quickly changed out of his jeans and into his pajamas. When he turned around, however, Alex was still in her clothes. “Won’t you get changed?” he asked as he sat down next to her. Big mistake.

Alex stood up and Magnus felt that familiar feeling that something bad was going to happen. It always did when Alex grinned like that. “Of course,” she said, before talking a few steps from the bed and slipping her fingers under her green and pink sweater vest.

With slow movements, much too slow to be how she normally takes her clothes off, she lifted the vest over her head. He watched the muscles in her arms flex as she took it off and it was when Alex send him a coy look that Magnus realize what was happening. Alex Fierro was trying to give him a freaking striptease.

Trying being the key word, because she obviously didn’t know what she was doing. She smirked at him and tried to be confident but her fingers still trembled a little when lifting off a piece of clothing. Even the weird alien flower didn’t seem to be able to make her perfectly brave and seductive. It didn’t matter in the end because Magnus was blushing deep red, his eyes following her every movement, as much as he told himself her should look away.

Alex took of her shirt, the muscles in her arms showing how much time she spent sparring with Halfborn in the training room. Moles dotted her skin at random and Magnus noticed a particularly big cluster at her left side. Scars littered her lean back and chest, leftovers from various battles and who knows what else. Magnus had the sudden urge to hug her and kiss every single one of them and-

It was as Alex was starting to unzip her jeans that Magnus finally yelped and hid his face in his pillow. He did his best to think of normal, everyday things, like boring classes and his uncle in his underwear instead of Alex back and chest because it would be very awkward if things ‘escalated’ with her in the same bed. Thankfully, half-naked Randolph seemed to do the trick. For once, Magnus was grateful to his uncle.

The mattress dipped beside him and he looked up to see Alex sitting next to his in her pink and green pajamas she had bought from some random planet. There was a stamp of two cartoonish blobs on her chest, like they were children’s clothing, and Magnus didn’t want to think how big those aliens were if this is their kids’ size.

“Why did you look away?” she asked as she lay down next to him. Magnus scooted over to give her more space.

“I, um…” What to say, what to say... “I felt sort of awkward watching and thought I better give you some privacy.”

Alex was lying next to him on her side, her arm over his side. “But I wanted you to look.”

Damn that alien plant, it’ll be the death of me. “Well, uh, maybe some other time.”

That seemed to appease Alex, who smiled at him and came a bit closer. Magnus’s back was against the wall and Alex was currently trying to make herself comfortable against his chest. After some moving about, she seemed to find a comfortable spot with her head on Magnus’s heart and her arms wrapped around him. She took his arm, which had been lying awkwardly near his hip, and draped it over her waist. She finally seemed content with their position and she closed her eyes with a sleepy smile. “Goodnight, Maggie,” she whispered.

“Goodnight, he whispered back. Alex nuzzled her cheek into his chest and Magnus screamed in the inside. Why does she have to be this cute?

/

The first thing Magnus saw when he woke up the next day was Alex. Her cheek was squashed against his chest, her moth slightly open. Her hair stuck in all different directions defying gravity and she was smiling in her sleep. Her Garla ears sat comfortably in her hair, twitching from time to time, and that familiar purple undertone was back to her skin. (Alex was much more comfortable about her Galran heritage than Sam was and didn’t mind walking around the castle with her ears in plain sight. It had been weird to get used to at first, but Magnus would be lying if he said they didn’t fit her, in some weird way.) All in all, there were worse thing to wake up to.

Slowly, as more of his senses came back to him as he woke up, Magnus realized exactly how they were sleeping. Alex’s hand rested against his chest, the other thrown over his back. Their legs were a tangled mess, their wholes bodies pressed against each other. One of Magnus’s arms was around Alex’s waist and the other cradled the back of her head. It didn’t look like the most comfortable position to sleep in for the whole night, except Magnus just had one of the best night’s sleep he had in a long while.

Almost unconsciously, maybe because he was still half asleep, Magnus slipped his fingers through Alex’s hair. It was soft, the short curls wrapping around his fingers as he moved them through the green locks. Alex snuggled in deeper into his chest as her ears twitched happily and a content, almost purring sound left her throat. Magnus knew he was smiling like an idiot, but he couldn’t help it. Alex looked adorable right now, cuddling against his chest, and she looked so calm. Magnus felt a weird sense of pride at the fact she trusted him enough to let her guard down this much in front of him.

It’s just because of the flower, a traitorous part of his brain whispered. She wouldn’t be acting like this if she hadn’t been drugged by an alien flower. Magnus’s mood soured immediately and he was brought crushing back into reality, a reality that wasn’t him and Alex cuddling in bed happily, but the fact she wouldn’t act like this if she was herself. They might be close, they might be friends and they might get along great, but Alex didn’t like him like this and the thought sent a painful stab through his heart.

Thanks, brain. Because this is exactly the kind of thing I want to think about first thing in the morning.

You’re welcome, his oblivious brain replied. Stupid brain.

It was then that Alex started moving, making sleepy little whines as her eyes fluttered open. She looked confused for a moment, and then she smiled as she realized where she was. “’Morning,” she whispered as she looked up at him, her eyes still hazy from sleep and a content smile on her lips. There might have been drool at the corner of her mouth and her hair might have resembled a bird’s nest, but she looked beautiful and Magnus found himself committing the image to memory. This might be the only time he’d ever get to wake up next to Alex and he was going to remember it.

“Good morning,” he said. His hand has still combing her hair but Alex didn’t seem to mind. “Did you sleep well?”

Alex’s smile brightened and she leaned in closer to his hand in her hair. “Great. You’re a great pillow. We should do this more often.”

That painful stab through his heart was back again. We won’t be doing this again, he thought, but what he said was, “Sure.”

Alex smiled, content with the answer and lay her head back on Magnus’s chest. His fingers were still in Alex’s hair and he wasn’t quite sure if he should keep going. “Don’t stop,” Alex said, so Magnus kept going. Alex hummed as he kept combing her hair.

Magnus didn’t know how much time passed while they lay like that, simply listening to each other’s breathing. Alex was entertaining herself by tracing words and designs on his chest with her finger while Magnus played with her hair and gazed at her, like he was trying his best to memorize each and every line of Alex’s face. The moment was simple and innocent and Magnus wouldn’t mind if they didn’t get out of bed at all today.

But alas, like all great things, someone had to ruin it.

The door to Magnus’s room opened quietly and Magnus heard the faintest footfalls, but he didn’t care enough to raise his head and see who it was. Maybe he should have because the next thing he heard was the unmistakable sound of someone taking pictures on their phone and a series of “aww”s. Standing at the door, with their phones out, was the rest of Team Voltron, including Blitzen and Hearthstone as well. Halfborn, Mallory and T.J looked like this was the best thing they had seen in months and Sam was looking at with the same kind of smile you gave to two kittens being adorable. Hearthstone and Blitzen were looking on in curiosity as they talked in sign language and Magnus caught a couple of signs that looked dangerously similar to “human mating customs”.

“I told you they would be sleeping together! Pay up!” T.J cheered. Everyone, even Sam, dug their hands into their pockets and handed T.J a couple of space coins.

Alex turned her head around to look at them as best as she could without leaving Magnus’s arms. She didn’t look like she was angry at them, more annoyed that they interrupted her cuddles. Magnus, on the other hand, was a blushing mess.

“Can you leave?” Alex asked. “You’re making noise.”

They didn’t seem to be insulted at all by her words. If anything, they seemed to smile even more gleefully. As they left, Mallory yelled, “Don’t make too much noise, you two!” Magnus spluttered at the insinuation, but Alex didn’t look at all annoyed. She plopped back down on his chest and closed her eyes, like she was about to go back to sleep.

“Um, Alex?” Magnus said awkwardly. “Maybe we should get up.” He didn’t want to even imagine the kind of jokes they would hear if they took too long to come out.

Alex frowned at him. She obviously didn’t like the idea. “Why? I want to cuddle. This is nice.”

I know it’s nice, I like it too, but I don’t want to face Halfborn’s innuendos. “I know. We can do it again later but I’m getting hungry right now.”

Alex opened her mouth to protest but, as if on cue, her stomach grumbled loudly. She sighed deeply. “Okay.”

Alex unwilling untangled her body from his and got out of bed. She stretched her arms far above her head and groaned in satisfaction at the sound of her joints popping. Magnus’s eyes trailed her movements as she sluggishly moved to collect her clothes from where she had left them last night. Somehow this whole scene was awfully domestic and it made a pleasant, warm feeling spread through his whole body.

“I’m gonna go change,” Alex said, leaning in to kiss Magnus on the cheek. “See you in a bit.”

Magnus’s face burned from the kiss and he allowed himself the luxury of hiding his face in his hands and making flustered noises. He managed not to freak out (mostly) for so long, but the impossibility of the situation was getting to him and he had to let it out somehow or else he’d probably blow up.

He got out of bed even though it was nice and warm and smelt like Alex. He took a quick shower and got dressed before heading to the dining room for breakfast. Everybody else was already there, including Alex, who was eating the closest thing they had to sugary cereal.

“Nice of you too join us, Magnus,” Halfborn greeted him with a smirk. Oh no. “I hope Alex didn’t leave you too sore. I told him to be gentler next time.”

Of-fucking-course I wouldn’t be able to escape Halfborn’s innuendos.

Alex had the decency to blush at the comment, but the pink dusting his cheeks was nothing to the fire that seemed to be raging on underneath his skin. If this is how Halfborn wants to play it…

“I’ve told Mallory the same thing,” Magnus said to Halfborn. “I told her I don’t want to hear you scream every night, but she just doesn’t listen to me.”

Alex giggled from the table (bless that sound) but Halfborn didn’t seem affected at all. “It’s not my fault my girlfriend is fierce and beautiful,” he said, making kissy faces at Mallory. She gave him an affectionate slap at the back of the head and went back to her breakfast food goo. Magnus scowled because his teasing had no effect.

Damn you, Halfborn.

Breakfast went by without a hitch, unless you count Halfborn, Mallory and T.J debating over which shot of them cuddling was the cutest, Blitzen and Hearthstone asking them about human courting and mating customs and Alex sitting extremely close and attempting to feed him, in which case… Yeah, it was something.

After they were all done with their breakfast, they split to go and do whatever they did when they weren’t fighting purple alien furies in mecha cat suits. Magnus himself was going to go read a book he had picked up from the human shop in the space mall when Alex grabbed his wrist and stopped him.

“I was going to work out in the training room, will you come?” he asked. Now, Magnus wasn’t much of a fighter. He was horrible at it, honestly. So working out and training weren’t really things he looked forward to, but Alex looked at him with his beautiful two-colored eyes so hopefully it was impossible for him to say no.

“Alright,” he said and Alex beamed at him. The Red Paladin intertwined their fingers, an action Magnus had grown used to alarmingly quickly. He did his best to enjoy the feeling of Alex’s hand in his while he could. He doubted he would get to hold his hand like this once the flower’s effect was gone.

They made a small detour to Magnus’s room so he could grab his book before heading to the training room. Alex didn’t seem to mind; more time holding Magnus’s hand was a good thing for him. Once at the castle’s training room, Magnus went to the side to sit and watch Alex train while the other Paladin went to set up the program he wanted.

Magnus, as per Alex’s wish, watched him as he stretched and warmed up for the actual working out. Magnus could tell Alex’s movements were more exaggerated, bigger than they needed to be as he tried to show off to Magnus and make him pay attention only to him and not to his book. It was working amazingly well, if Magnus’s book lying forgotten to the side was anything to go by.

Why did I agree to this again? Magnus asked again as Alex stretched his arms over his head, exposing his toned belly to the Yellow Paladin’s eyes. Oh yeah, that’s why.

The castle’s robotic voice warned Alex that the simulation was about to start and the Red Paladin got ready, his hand resting at the bayard by his hip, bouncing on his heels with restless energy.

“Simulation start,” the robotic voice said and Alex immediately sprang into action. He whipped his bayard out and it split in two, connected by a shinning line of light like a futuristic garrote (which it was). Alex lunged at the first droid, wrapping the length of his garrote around its arms and bringing it crushing to the ground. He attacked the second one and tripped it into the first before it had any time to get its sword up.

Magnus could only gaze at him as he sprinted through the training room, taking down robot after robot like he was made to do it. There was an elegant, dangerous beauty to Alex fighting, to the way he almost pounced at his enemies and cut their heads off. Should Magnus find his crush decapitating droids as attractive as he did? Okay, probably not, but Alex looked wild and mesmerizing as he whipped across the room and Magnus couldn’t take his eyes off him.

Alex went through several more training levels, each on throwing more droids at him. Magnus started seeing the patterns in his movements, the small way his body stance would change right before he attacked. He tried to read his movements and guess which way he would move next based on his body language and got better and better at it the more he watched Alex.

Maybe I can use it if he ever wants to train together, Magnus thought, the idea of getting a surprise hit on Alex putting a smile on his lips. Alex jumped forward, wrapping his bayard around a droids head and cutting it cleanly off. Or maybe not.

“Pause,” Alex said after the last droid fell through a hole in the ground. The training program stopped before the next level was able to load. Alex exhaled slowly, wiping the sweat from his brow and putting his bayard away. He walked over to Magnus and the Yellow Paladin held out the water bottle for him.

“Thank you,” he said as he took the water and plopped down next to Magnus. He threw his head back and took long gulps of water, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. Magnus did his best not to stare. (He wasn’t good at it.)

“That was really good,” Magnus said in an attempt to stop himself from salivating over sweating and panting Alex.

“Thanks,” Alex said, smiling so brightly at the compliment Magnus was almost blinded. His ears flickered happily on his head and Magnus was once again sure he heard an almost purring sound coming out of Alex, but that was impossible. “Do you want to spar with me?”

Magnus didn’t know what made him say it. Maybe it was the hopeful, loving look in Alex’s eyes or the way his ears flattened sadly against his head with every second Magnus took to answer. Whatever it was, against all his better judgment, Magnus said, “Yes.”

The smile that spread across Alex’s face was enough to bring the dead back to life in Magnus’s opinion, though maybe he’s biased, being head over heels for him and all. Alex springs up from the bench and goes to shut down the training simulation while Magnus looks back at his life fondly, certain these will be his last moments. His worries stood correct when Alex took off his shirt because “he got sweaty”, though Magnus was sure it had less to do with sweat and more with flirting with Magnus and torturing him.

Quiznack, why does he have to look that good? Who’s idea was it to make him this gorgeous? Why must I suffer like this?

Magnus’s existential questions aside, he gets ready for what’s probably his last sparring section before he dies from overexposure to Alex Fierro. He stands opposite Alex in the fighting stance Mallory had shown him once, his bayard in his hands. It took the form of a sword, though Magnus really didn’t know why. He wasn’t a fighter, he was pretty rubbish in a fight. He wished his bayard would turn into a gun or something like that, then all he would have to do would be to aim and pull the trigger. He had told that to T.J once (big mistake) and he had gotten an hour long lecture about the complexity of good aim.

“Ready when you are,” Alex said with a wink, a bit too flirtatiously for a sparring session. Magnus tried not to think too much about it and instead focused on Alex’s form. Compared to his rigid and tense stance, Alex looked like he was right in his element.

Since Magnus was going to get his ass handed to him anyway, he decided he should at least get the first hit. He lunged at Alex without a warning, but the Red Paladin was able to dodge his attack without a problem. He rolled out of the way to Magnus’s right, lashing at him with the end of his bayard like it was a whip. Magnus managed to bring his sword up just in time to block it.

They eventually find a rhythm of attacking, blocking and dodging, the clash of their weapons and their ragged breaths creating a sort of symphony in the training room. Sweat is making Alex’s muscles glisten and Magnus is trying very hard not to stare and get distracted or else he’ll get his head chopped off. He knows Alex is going easy on him; he wouldn’t have been able to take him on one on one otherwise. He would be offended if he didn’t know he needed it. Taking it easy or not, going up against Alex was still challenging and Magnus’s muscles burned with energy and adrenaline.

It was then that it happened. Magnus lunged forward to attack Alex right as the Red Paladin wrapped his garrote around Magnus’s ankle. The Yellow Paladin lost his balance suddenly and took hold of the first thing he found, which oh so happened to be Alex. His momentum sent them both tumbling to the ground.

They hit the training room’s floor with a loud thud, though the impact didn’t hurt as much as Magnus had expected it to. His bayard had flown out of his hands as he fell and Magnus pushed at the ground to lift his head.

Only… the ground wasn’t supposed to feel the way it did and it wasn’t supposed to be clammy or… move.

Dread filling his stomach at the thought of what must have happened, Magnus looked at what, or rather, who he had landed on. And, of course, because he has the worst (or best, depends on the point of view) luck, Magnus had landed right on top Alex. Alex who was currently lying beneath him, sweaty and panting and yeah, Magnus isn’t going to think too much about how that looked because it wouldn’t end well.

Still, and maybe he’s getting redundant by this point, but Alex was a sight to behold at the moment. His face was flushed from his training and their sparring. His green head framed his face like a small halo and his differently colored eyes were gazing at Magnus with such affection in them that it made Magnus’s whole body heat up. Alex’s breaths, like Magnus’s, were shallow, barely making any sound, as if just breathing would destroy the moment.

“I, uh, umm,” Magnus stammered intelligently. His mind seemed to be malfunctioning - he couldn’t process his thoughts or make words other than Alex. With the other boy so near he was all his mind and heart could focus on, like nothing else existed – the war, the rest of the castle, the dangers that awaited them next – nothing but them at that moment. Magnus had never felt such a strong urge to blurt out his feeling for Alex before and the last logical part of his brain wondered if he could be affected by the flower through Alex. The majority of his brain was admiring how kissable Alex’s lips looked.

Alex seemed to be having the same thought process. He smiled at Magnus, one of those smiles that had made him fall hard in the first place, and brought his arms around Magnus’s neck. “Well,” he said and Magnus could feel his breath on his lips, “this isn’t what I had in mind, but I like this too.”

His fingers tangled in Magnus’s hastily chopped hair and pulled him just an inch closer. Magnus’s heart was playing the war drum inside his chest as his basic fight or flee instincts battled against each other. Should he go along with it and take probably his only chance to kiss Alex, who was intoxicated by the flower and didn’t really have feelings like these for him or should he say not to this and run away to deal with a rejected flower-drugged Alex?

In the end, with a little more than an inch between their lips, Magnus choose the second one and jerked upright, bolting out of the room as quickly as he could. He run out of the training room and into the locker rooms next to it, collapsing on one of the benches like he had just run a marathon.

What just happened?

The scene played over again in his head, the small details standing out to him now that his heart wasn’t pumping blood through his body powerfully enough to make him turn red everywhere. Like Alex’s slightly parted lips or the small mole under his right eye or the way he looked at Magnus like he was the single most beautiful thing he had seen in the whole galaxy.

After a solid five minutes of getting his breathing even, Alex got up to find Alex, only to see him standing at the locker room’s door. His ears were flat against his head, his eyes shining with unshed tears. The sight sent a sharp pang of guilt through Magnus - he hated seeing Alex like this.

“Alex,” he started, but that was the only thing he managed to get out before he cut him off.

“Do you not like me?” the Red Paladin asked, voice just barely trembling at the end.

“What? No, I don’t-“

“Then why did you run off?” Alex cut him off again. “I-I really like you, Magnus. I really, really like you, but…” A few stray tears found their way out of Alex’s eyes and he wiped them away angrily. “B-but if you don’t, then tell me. I’ll understand. I can understand why someone wouldn’t like me,” he repeated with a bitter, humorless laugh that broke Magnus’s heart. “But… just tell me. Don’t run away from me.”

Alex sniffed, trying to clear his clogging nose, furiously wiping the tears from his eyes. His shoulders shook as a sob made its way past his lips and he seemed angry at himself for it, which in turn made him cry harder. Magnus hated the fact this was his fault.

“I like you, Alex-“ he started saying, trying to find a way to calm him down.

“Then why do you keep finding excuses to get out of something I say?” Alex snapped. “You just literally run away from me!”

Magnus didn’t really have something to say to that because, technically, it was true. His moth opened and closed soundlessly as he tried to find what to say. Alex seemed to be taking his silence as a confirmation of his claims because even more tears poured out of his eyes.

“It’s fine,” he said, obviously not fine. “I-I get it.” He wiped his eyes frantically and was about to run out of the locker rooms when Magnus caught him by the wrist. He struggled against his grip and any other time he would have managed to get out but Magnus couldn’t let that happen now.

“Alex, please,” he begged. He didn’t know what exactly he was begging for. Please, it’s not true or maybe please don’t leave, but whatever he was asking for, Alex’s fighting against him stopped. He didn’t snatch his wrist away and he didn’t look up at Magnus either, instead looking at a random spot on the floor.

“I like you,” Magnus said slowly, cautiously, like the wrong word would break this emotional Alex. Magnus wondered if the breakdown was completely because of the flower or if Alex really feared they didn’t like him – if they did, they wouldn’t have a way of knowing considering he didn’t talk about his weaknesses or insecurities often.

Magnus’s words didn’t seem to convince Alex as he sniffled, still avoiding to look the Yellow Paladin in the eye.

“I like you,” Magnus repeated, stretching each word. “I really, really, really like you. More than just as a teammate or a friend.”  Alex finally looked at him again, just barely, but his sniffling had stopped. Magnus’s heart beat loudly in his ears as adrenaline rushed through his body. He was finally saying the words out loud and it made him feel like he was in the middle of battle.

“You’re awesome, Alex.” Tentatively, he cupped Alex’s cheek and wiped the tears from his eyes, tilting his head so he was looking at him. “You’re bold and brave and resourceful. You’re proud of yourself and you don’t take shit from anyone, be it a random alien salesman or a six-armed warrior that wants to kill you.” Alex laughed weakly at that as he recalled both occasions. Magnus’s heart warmed as Alex smiled, his garlan ears starting to stick up from their sad position. “You’re great at fighting and your pottery is fantastic every single time. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met in the universe, outside and inside.”

Alex’s ears flattened against his head again, this time from embarrassment as his cheeks flushed redder at the compliment. “I like you,” Magnus said again for the third time. “I’ve been a goner for you since you head-locked me when we first rescued Sam.”

Alex’s eyes widened. “That long?”

“That long,” Magnus nodded. He tucked a lock of hair out of Alex’s face so he could see his eyes better and Alex leaned into the touch.

“Then why did you run away?” Alex asked quietly.

“I was nervous,” Magnus said, speaking the truth. “I was scared. I didn’t know how to react and I fled, but everything I just said is true. I’m sorry I hurt you.”

Alex laughed and wiped the last tears out of his eyes. “It’s fine.” He seemed to think of something and then added, “Though I wouldn’t mind going on a date sometime.”

A pang went through Magnus’s heart at the thought that the date would never happen once the flower’s effects wore off, but he managed to keep smiling. “Sure, sometime.”

Alex seemed satisfied with the answer. He wrapped his arms around Magnus’s neck and held him close. Magnus hugged the Red Paladin back and refused to think about what would happen once the flower got out of his system, instead enjoying the embrace while it lasted.

/

The flower was officially out of Alex’s system the next day. They had fallen asleep together in Magnus’s bed like the previous night, Magnus’s back to the wall as Alex hugged him in her sleep in what was weirdly enough a pretty comfortable sleeping position. Magnus had woken up once again with Alex sleeping peacefully in his arms, her garlan ears tickling his noce.

I could get used to this, he couldn’t help but thinking. And that, of course, was what jinxed everything.

Alex scrunched her nose as she slowly woke up, her eyes fluttering open. For a moment, she seemed confused, like she didn’t quite understand where she was. Magnus though she looked cute half-awake like this, but then Alex’s eyes widened with realization as she understood where she was. She all but punched her way out of Magnus’s arms and in her rush toppled off the bed and onto the floor.

“Alex?” he asked, sitting up to look at her where she was looking around the room from the floor. “Are you okay?”

“W-why was I…?” she mumbled as she examined the room, her ears flat against her hair. Magnus’s sleepy smile dropped. The flower’s effect was over. Alex was back to her old self and she was freaking out over finding herself sleeping in the same bed as Magnus when she didn’t remember falling asleep there. (Which was understandable, everybody would lose it in that situation.)

“Alex,” Magnus started, wanting to explain to Alex what had happened, but before he got the chance to say anything else, Alex had bolted out of the room in her pajamas. Magnus was left looking at the door she had just run out of. With a heavy sight, Magnus flopped back on his bed. Great, this was just great.

Fully awake now, Magnus got out of bed and got dressed. He didn’t bother doing it quickly; Alex had probably run to her room and she wouldn’t come out immediately. Plus, he was kind of dreading having to explain to Alex everything that had happened since their run in with the flower if she didn’t remember the last couple of days. And if she did… well, that’s a whole different can of worms.

Finally dressed, and sick to his stomach, Magnus came out of his room and went to the kitchen, half hoping and half dreading finding Alex there. Alex wasn’t there, but the rest of team Voltron was, calmly eating breakfast.

“So I take it the flower stopped working?” Sam asked Magnus, looking up from her alien cerial.

“How did you know?”

“She burst in here in here pajamas and yelled ‘What happened?’,” Halfborn explained around a mouthful of food goo.  “I explained, gave her a book about the plant, she grabbed some cereal and run back to her room.”

“O-okay, then,” Magnus said. Everybody looked so casual about the whole thing Magnus was starting to wonder if he was panicking over nothing. “I’ll go talk to her then.”

“Bring her this,” T.J said, holding up a bottle of space milk (it tasted like milk, but Magnus really didn’t want to know what it actually was). “She forgot to take it when she run away to hide from you.”

Magnus sighed, took the milk and made his way to the Red Paladin’s room. The door was closed (obviously) and Magnus spent a good couple of minutes just standing in front of it, wondering if he should knock or just walk in. Deciding being polite was the best route when Alex might be angry at him, he rapped his knuckles against the door.

“Alex?” he called out. “It’s, uh, it’s me. I, um… I brought you milk. Can we talk?”

Alex didn’t respond for a few minutes and Magnus thought she wasn’t here after all or she was ignoring him until he went away. At last, the door slid to the side, bringing Alex face to face with Magnus.

“Come in,” she said, her cheeks and the tip of her ears pink. She didn’t look him in the eye as she spoke and immediately turned around. Magnus walked in. He felt like he was in a Garla spaceship; in hostile territory where a single wrong step would result in him getting his head chopped off.

“So, um,” he started. “Halfborn said he explained what happened to you.”

Alex’s blush darkened. If this situation wasn’t so awkward, Magnus would be finding it weird that Alex was blushing. “Yeah, he did.”

Her words were short and curt and Magnus immediately started panicking. Alex closed herself off when she was upset and it was something that couldn’t happen now. Magnus was about to say something when Alex spoke.

“So, I guess now you know,” she said bitterly, like Magnus had learned some dark secret of hers. If he did, he had no idea what it was.

“Know what? What do you mean?”

Alex huffed in exasperation and her cheeks darkened. “Don’t make me say it,” she muttered. When Magnus kept looking confused she sighed and looked at him in the eye, her face a deep red. “I like you!” she yelled. “I’d think that would be obvious with the way I acted! Quiznack, I can’t believe I did all that…”

As Alex drowned in her embarrassment ( a rare sight indeed), Magnus still didn’t understand what was happening. Alex was saying she liked him but the flower was definitely out of her system.

“You like me?” Magnus asked slowly.

“Yes!” Alex bellowed, making wild gestures with her hands as she freaked out. “Yes, I like you! I kept asking to you cuddle! And I almost did a strip tease for you! Good god, I can’t believe I did that… I tried to show off for you in the training room, which isn’t something new, but I took off my fucking shirt to do it! I almost kissed you!”

Magnus tried not to blush as all those moments were listed for him. “But you did it because of the flower,” he said lamely.

“Yeah, a flower that makes you act out on your romantic feelings for someone!”

Magnus felt like he had just been punched in the chest. “Wh-what? I thought it made you fall for the first person you saw?”

Now it was Alex’s turn to be confused. “What? No, it says it in the book. The flower’s pollen amplifies the victim’s already existing feelings and cancels their inhibitions, making them act out on them without fear.” Alex held up the book for him, showing him the alien text next to a picture of the flower and it took Magnus a few seconds to remember that due to her Garla blood Alex could understand any alien language.

His heart felt like it had skipped several beats and a warm feeling spread through his body. “So you like me?”

Alex threw her arms in the air in frustration. “Yes! How many times are you going to make me say it? I like you! Quiznack, I didn’t want you to find out like this…”

“Do you remember anything that happened while the flower was working?” Magnus asked.

Alex raised an eyebrow at him but nodded. “Yeah, mostly. Some things are still blank, but it’s coming back to me.” Alex sighed and sat down on her bed. “Thank you for putting up with me, though you didn’t have to lie like that yesterday.”

The smile that was making its way onto Magus’s face fell away. “Lie?”

Alex sighed. “Yeah, you know. All that stuff about being in love with me. Thanks for trying to spare my feelings, but you don’t have to lie.”

“I didn’t lie,” Magnus said as he sat down next to her. She looked at him with disbelief, her ears drooping, so he said it again. “I didn’t lie. I like you. I have since we met and everything I said yesterday was true. Everything.”

Alex’s eyes widened and her blush, which had mostly disappeared by now, returned full force. “Really?”

Magnus nodded, smiling at her. “Really. One hundred percent.”

A stupidly giddy smile spread across Alex face and she hid in her hands. “I can’t believe we just confessed because I got drugged by an alien love flower,” she muttered, voice disbelieving but undeniable happy. “When did our lives become so messed up?”

Magnus smiled and patted her on the back. “When we followed you to a giant robotic lion inside a cave and Mallory flew us out of Earth.”

Alex raised her head from her hands and glared at him. “That was rhetorical question.”

The Yellow Paladin chuckled. “So, are we like, together now?”

“I’d like that,” Alex said. Magnus was having a very strong urge to kiss her. “I’d also like that date we talked about yesterday.”

“Alright,” Magnus laughed. “Next planet we stop at, we’re going out.”

Alex smiled at him warmly and for a second there was silence as they simply looked at each other happily. As if on cue, they leaned in, closing their eyes as their lips were about to connect and-

“Ah!”

“Ow!”

Their noses bumped. Of course.

They looked at each other for a moment, both holding their noses in pain before bursting into laughter and collapsing back on the bad.

“Okay,” Magnus said. “That was a fail.”

Alex chuckled. She reached out and took his hand. “Yeah, it was.” Then, before Magnus was able to do something, she leaned over and kissed him in the lips quickly. Magnus’s eyes were the size of plates and they were both blushing as red as Alex’s lion.

“I guess the first awkward kiss is mine,” she said.

Magnus grinned at her and pecked her on the lips. “Then the second one is mine.”

Alex smirked, a devious glint in her eyes. “Oh, is that how you want to play it?”

Their friends might have found them in Alex’s room half an hour later, still trading small kisses, but Magnus didn’t really care to be embarrassed about it. That alien flower actually led to something good.

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[bigyack-com]

Racing to Help California Fire Victims Meet Claims Deadline

PARADISE, Calif. — Unlike a typical holiday food giveaway, the ham, mashed potatoes and green beans packed in bags at Paradise Alliance Church came with a grim reminder of an even deeper need.Next to the counter where hundreds picked up meals, a table had been set up by an envoy from United States Bankruptcy Court. His mission: to make sure residents had a chance to seek compensation from California’s largest utility for wildfires like the one that laid waste to their town.Victims have until Tuesday to submit claims against Pacific Gas & Electric, which filed for bankruptcy protection in January after amassing tens of billions of dollars in liabilities from years of wildfires. The court overseeing the case assigned Michael Kasolas, an accountant, to track down those eligible. But some are homeless and hard to find. Some have moved out of state. Some have struggled to submit the paperwork and have not known whom to call.So Mr. Kasolas and a team working with him are racing to find as many as possible. A recent day’s efforts included taping fliers to boxes at a neighborhood pizzeria, meeting with wildfire response agencies and working the food line at the church. “Trying to find these people, especially those outside of California, is challenging,” said Mr. Kasolas, president of Michael Kasolas & Company, a Bay Area accounting firm. “We’re just trying to find everybody.” That could mean thousands, even tens of thousands of people — many of whom have scattered across the country.As daunting as it would be, a federal judge charged with estimating PG&E’s total wildfire liability said that “someone should be going door to door” to get victims to file claims, after it was estimated in early October that little more than 30,000 people had submitted paperwork before the initial deadline that month.The bankruptcy court gave victims more time as lawyers argued that there might be as many as 70,000 more victims who should file claims for their losses and suffering.“All I’m saying is it would be a heartbreaking shame if even 10 percent of the eligible victims don’t file claims for whatever reason,” the judge, James Donato, said. “If we’re talking about 50 percent not filing, that’s — that’s intolerable.”It has been just over a year since the Camp Fire, the most devastating wildfire in California history, destroyed the town of Paradise and killed 85 people. Investigators attributed the fire to an equipment failure on a 100-year-old tower owned by PG&E.Signs of catastrophe endure: the towering pine trees with burns from top to bottom, the whirring of chain saws, the charred cars still firmly planted on roadsides, the barren lots where houses stood. Though filing a claim might seem an obvious step for victims trying to rebuild a normal life, it hasn’t been so easy. The emotional trauma has weighed as heavily as the property losses themselves.Some have had difficulty staying focused enough to get the paperwork done.Karen Gowins lost her home in the Paradise fire, along with family heirlooms. All that escaped destruction were six trees and her family’s pontoon boat.Ms. Gowins was chosen to be a victims’ representative in the bankruptcy case, and she has been working with Mr. Kasolas to help people file claims.“Even answering the questions like ‘What’s your name?’ is difficult for some,” she said. “It’s been draining. My heart is breaking for my community.”In November, the judge overseeing the bankruptcy case, Dennis Montali, made it Mr. Kasolas’s job to find victims and help them file claims. He and his staff have mailed tens of thousands of fliers that have included information in English and Spanish. They have published advertisements in newspapers and on radio and television, and posted notices on Facebook and Instagram. They have opened a call center to provide information and assist with claims. And they have created a website for people filing on their own.“We’re doing all we can,” Mr. Kasolas said. “I just don’t have airplanes with banners, yet.”At stake is a pot of money worth $13.5 billion, a figure negotiated between PG&E and victims’ representatives in the bankruptcy case. The settlement divides those funds among victims, their lawyers and federal and state agencies that responded to the disaster.The parties in the bankruptcy continue to spar over whether the money will be all in cash or half in cash and half in PG&E stock.On the weekslong journey Mr. Kasolas was commissioned to undertake, he and his staff have directly encountered only a few victims who have not filed claims. But he cited other signs of headway: The team has received more than 700 phone calls, recently fielding 40 a day, along with thousands of visits to the website. Since the deadline was extended, he said, 4,370 fire-related claims have been filed.“More often, it’s someone who knows someone who hasn’t filed a claim,” said Danielle Foreman, a senior majoring in cellular and molecular biology at California State University, Chico, about 15 miles west of Paradise. Ms. Foreman, 22, was hired by Mr. Kasolas to help spread the word about filing claims. She spent her day taping fliers to pizza boxes at Red Lion Pizza in Magalia, just north of Paradise, and handing out others to churches and agencies, hoping it would prompt even one more person to file a claim.But time is short, and a bigger problem persists. “We know there was significant post-fire displacement — people had to move away,” said Steven Skikos, a lawyer appointed by the court to represent victims’ interests. “But we don’t know the specifics of who ended up where. That’s a real problem.”An analyst at Chico State provided Mr. Kasolas with a map produced from United States Postal Service information showing that wildfire victims had moved to almost every state, with significant clusters in the Pacific Northwest, Arizona, Texas and Tennessee. But the map does not provide addresses.For its part, PG&E said it had employed a broad campaign to ensure that wildfire victims received information about filing claims, including newspaper, magazine, radio, social media and digital advertisements. The utility sent emails to about four million customers and claim forms by mail to more than six million customers.“We feel this is the most robust noticing effort in bankruptcy history, including outreach through national publications,” Paul Moreno, a PG&E spokesman, said.But sometimes the trouble with filing a claim is more a problem with the process.Rosemary Peterson had traveled from Magalia for the food giveaway at Paradise Alliance Church when she saw the table with the information about filing a claim.Ms. Peterson, 88, had tried to submit a claim online but struggled to complete it on her own. Although her home survived the Camp Fire, smoke damage required some restoration. The trees in her yard have died. And her friends and neighbors have scattered.“There’s nothing in front of me but dead trees,” Ms. Peterson said.Before her recent visit to the church, Ms. Peterson was about to give up on ever submitting a claim.But she was greeted not only by the staff members celebrating Christmas with meals for those in need, but also by people wearing shirts commemorating last year’s disaster with messages like “We Stand Together.” “I wouldn’t have done it had I not been here,” Ms. Peterson said. “I said, I’m going to need help with it. I started to work on it on the internet but I wasn’t able to do it.”The drive at the church on this day added her and one other victim to the claim applicants. Perhaps one small victory, but a victory nevertheless.Dave Bruns, an associate pastor, said the church had been physically spared from the fire and had worked to help the community recover. While the church has long provided food during the Christmas season, this year the congregation doubled the effort to about 300 meals, while also providing information about filing claims. The goal is to help restore the town and its people’s hope. “We kind of shuffled our focus,” Mr. Bruns said. “This is kind of a rallying point. The real purpose of the meal this year wasn’t just to give people food. It was to invite people to feel normal again.” Read the full article

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