[Dorian's POV]
All alone with well over a week of constant travel, Daenerys with a lack of a lover for a long time, Edric's rebirth as a dragon… all the stars were aligning. There was just one thorn in the way.
Arya Stark.
A lady of a great house, most certainly, yet… a waste on Edric. Inferior, not to mention too young. She has no outstanding gifts of note. The King needed a queen now, not someone to babysit. One little accident and she's out of the picture.
The scythe of death was hanging over his head, for his previous sins. Daenerys would not take kindly to his prior actions… especially the way he slithered into her trust right after. This would be one last necessary sacrifice.
Yet, for a man like Dorian, death did not feel appealing, least of all now. Everything was just falling into place… would he not be able to see it through?
And if his teachings were any good, Edric would know his hand was all over it… an act which he doubted the King would forgive. Now that truly was certain death.
Surely, there were better ways…
He entered the betrothed's room, finding her water dancing. She was alerted to him before he had touched the door. Impressive.
"Braavosi, eh? Adorable."
"What are you doing here? The better question is… what am I doing here? Edric went off on his own into the Dothraki Sea while Ser Arthur, the entire navy and my sister left to pillage cities… and I'm stuck here."
"I could relate to such a feeling, you're not the only one. In my case, however, my best position is here… as for you, this is the best place for you to do nothing. You'd only really slow down Edric, and the navy… what good would you do there?"
"Nothing at all, it seems. I'm just a useless little girl."
Her strokes became more aggressive, swifter. She was good for a girl.
"How do you feel regarding your betrothed recently?"
"Why is that any of your business?"
"Why, because I'm his shadow hand. I can make the best thing happen, for both of you. I only need to know where you stand," Dorian smiled slightly, although he didn't show his teeth. "You can trust me, little wolf. I've been in Edric's camp longer than most."
"Well… he tends to ignore me, always focused on something else. I can't blame him for that, but… it can be tiring. It makes me wonder if…"
"He cares for you at all?" Dorian grinned in his heart.
"..." She paused, almost glaring at him before sighing. "Something like that."
"The older he's grown, the more his focus has narrowed. I've not noticed any more friends by his side. It must be all about battle, growing his strength, preparing the Realm for winter… there's not much room for courting, is there? Even before, it was a fun little game, a test of ability - a distraction he doesn't need anymore. All the regal attention was new, yet undoubtedly has grown old."
"Girls and women are hardly a concern of his now… unless they further his position."
"You mean to suggest I bring nothing to the table?" Arya questioned.
"It would be safe to say that, no?"
"Or I don't bring near as much as your Daenerys…"
"Ah." He grinned, amused. "You've been listening to rumours?"
"It's not hard to know your agenda. You've practically painted it on your face."
Mayhaps this girl has more merit than I first thought.
"The truth tends to be bitter, little one. Would Edric seek out your hand if you were never promised to each other?"
"... " There was anger in her eyes, yet it softened. "No. He would not."
"See, the only thing keeping you together is this arrangement… and Edric's desire to remain true and honourable. It's a paper shield. Once he realises how much greener the grass could be, do not be surprised if he alters or even breaks it entirely…"
"And what can I do about that?"
"Not much, though I hear you have the ability to break it first. A luxury many ladies do not have."
"And that's precisely what you want."
"Mhm," Dorian shrugged. "I sincerely believe it's better for both of you. Edric would only, very inevitably, sideline you for Daenerys in the very best case. He might only be two years older than you, but he has matured very, very, quickly to the point that the difference may as well be ten years."
"And he needs a proper woman to match that?"
"Precisely. If time wasn't of the essence and Daenerys wasn't in the picture, truthfully, you'd make a fine queen. You seem to be rather clever, a quick learner and your nature makes you a strong candidate to join the select group of magic users… you may even be the best option in such a scenario. Unfortunately, time is of the essence, and… there's someone better."
"Mhm…" Arya slowly nodded. "Edric deserves the very best."
"Naturally."
"However, if he has a problem with me, I'd rather hear it from him."
"I'm just preparing you for the inevitable," Dorian shrugged.
"How kind of you," She dismissed him.
"As for the reason you're here, well, it was I who requested it."
It wouldn't be all that difficult to toss the girl through the window, Dorian thought to himself.
"... Why?"
"You wouldn't be any use anywhere else… and since you're so fond of the martial path, I do happen to have raised a daughter as a capable warrior already." In an instant, he drew five knives, one for each finger. "To put it plainly, do you want to learn how to throw?"
"... You're a very strange person," She frowned slightly.
"Oh, I know."
[Arthur's POV]
Tolos was a port city founded by the Valyrian Freehold, but after the Freehold's doom, it formed ties with the cities of Slaver's Bay. The tradition of slavery has been kept until now. They were well known for their slingers, who threw lead balls that were devastating to flesh. Arthur himself didn't know all that much about Essos, let alone anything about a smaller city like Tolos, while Rhaerra was like a boundless library of knowledge, which he used to get a better idea of what he was facing.
They had the greater force, most certainly, yet his goal was to be both swift and efficient. Avoid unnecessary losses.
The first stage was simple enough, taking the port.
They hadn't left much of a garrison, manning the walls instead. No losses there.
"Rhaerra, work your magic," Arthur smiled slightly. "If we can get them to revolt from the inside, there wouldn't even be a fight. How many slaves could there be for every master?"
"Quite a few."
She would make several speeches, yet there didn't seem to be much of a difference. Were Tolosi slaves so deep in that they couldn't see past the chains? Or were they simply afraid... either way, Arthur was determined to free them.
"Well... that only leaves us with one option."
"Working your magic? That gate looks rather fortified..." Rhaerra stroked her chin.
"We'll see."
He drew Nightfall.
He recalled the sensation of dragon fire, how powerful and devastating it had been. It should have burned him, but Nightfall twisted it into his own. He could hear Nightfall's song, its black blade igniting. A colossal dragon and its flames... the flames that forged the blade. It was born in dragon fire.
And now, he too, understood its embrace...
The fire in his body erupted all at once, and as it emerged and wrapped around Nightfall, the flames took shape. A pure, saintly white - burning as bright as the stars. As the skies darkened, it burned ever brighter. These flames carried the hopes and dreams of those beyond the walls, forced into slavery... the desire for victory from those behind him... and its wielder's indomitable will.
He took a step forward, raising the sword as the inferno of flames reached its apex.
Break free.
He slashed down, and the wave of flames surged forward, bursting the gate open in a great explosion. The flames did not go far, fulfilling their purpose and nothing more. Arthur advanced.
"With me."
The core of the vanguard was all of the magic wielders in his command, along with the Stormguard, who were all armoured to the teeth. Tolosi slingers gathered from within, pelting them with lead, yet it hardly did much to heavy armour. Given their short range, Arthur was onto them after only a single round, dashing across the path.
From there on out, it was a crushing victory.
...
Tolos' masters surrendered swiftly, and Arthur chose to honour their surrender. Every slave in the city was freed, which led to chaos he hadn't even imagined. They took their fury out on the masters, who were very much outnumbered. Looting, robbing, Arthur could understand - the masters built their wealth from slaves... but it was far more than that. Murder, butchery, even rape. All that their masters had done to them, they sought to return twicefold. Some had taken their liberty as an opportunity to join the horde of animals...
Two wrongs did not make a right.
Arthur used the royal army to seize control of the population forcefully. Yet, even that began to backfire. The former slaves began fighting back. It was a whole mess as blood was spilt across the city. Arthur, naturally, took his own side.
There was an anger behind his flames.
A darkness to the light.
All this time and effort spent freeing them, only for them to dishonour his intentions, spit in his face and even seek to kill his men - the very people who had fought for their freedom...
Arthur showed no mercy to those animals, cutting down over a thousand of them single-handedly. By then, the city had grown to a complete silence, and there were looks of fear wherever he went. The treasuries of the city had been taken within a day, leaving nothing of much value.
Arthur sat in magister's great hall, feeling the great weight of command. He had drunk a couple of glasses of wine, recalling the prior battle... or was it a slaughter? What had come over him?
Or... was it them who forced his hand?
He couldn't recall. It was a blur.
The door opened with a ray of morning light and two figures. Ser Loras and Sansa Stark, who had an expression of concern. Loras looked at him, nodding, and closed the door as Sansa stepped in.
"Is everything alright? You look like a mess."
"I..." Arthur shook his head. "I am. All of this is. Yet I can't think of one thing I was supposed to do better. Was I meant to allow the slaves to trample their masters as they wish - what then? They get a taste for savagery and seek to do it again. Who would bring order to them? How long would it have been... until they turned on their own?"
"You did the best you could," Sansa stepped even closer, now within arm's reach, and grabbed his shoulder. "You always do what you think is best."
"And it ended like this," Arthur chuckled at himself. "I've realised how easy it is to criticise command, yet holding it yourself... It's an entirely different matter. These times bring out the worst in men, turning them into animals. I've learned that it's not just our men, our foes, but... I am plenty capable of being one myself. Is it an answer to their savagery, or something I've always had?"
"I don't know..."
Arthur held his face, trying to keep the mental image of a true knight intact. How could something as simple as freeing slaves become so complicated? He was meant to be their hero, yet he ended as a butcher. His conversation with Ser Barristan before seemed almost laughable. He was the one with the blade now... and hundreds upon hundreds had fallen to it.
He didn't want it to be this way, yet that didn't change what he did.
"It's alright," Sansa reassured him, her voice oddly soothing as she embraced his head. "They chose to do horrible things, and you aimed to stop them. What's wrong with that? You acted bravely, as a sword of justice, protecting the innocent and those who could not defend themselves."
The world is not so black and white. Were the slavers entirely innocent? Very doubtful. Yet, they had families of their own. Were their daughters innocent? More likely... but the former slaves didn't care for that. They wanted vengeance, a sense of gratification.
"You acted as a true knight would."
He leaned into her, his hand gently grasping hers. It brought him a strange sense of comfort that he hadn't felt before. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.
His confidence in himself repaired itself, stone by stone.
"Thank you for being here... for me."
...
As he walked to Robert's Hammer, a younger girl stood by the port, blocking his path. Her clothes were noble ghiscari fashion, yet tattered, ripped. Arthur remembered her as someone he shielded. She raised a flower to him. It was beautiful, pure, white - matching the colour of what his cloak had once been.
He had been the one who had brought down their reign, yet he was also the one who shielded them when the slaves tried to take justice into their own hands... he was truly a hero to neither.
Yet, this flower, a gift... to his effort?
He hesitated to take it.
She planted it into his hand, followed by a slight smile, before turning away.
He took a deep breath, watching her fading figure.
He hoped that Dorian's connection would make sense of the mess he had created.
Mayhaps this... was all inevitable, one way or another. Changing thousands of years of tradition - how could it ever be simple? A lesson for the next liberation.
I understand now, more than I ever did...
You and the burden you carry, Edric.