The Grind (Book 2) Ch.35

[PENTOS I (Neville II/Daenerys I)]

— Neville —

This is the story… about a world of adventure! A sea full of excitement! And a man full of dreams, with a passion that seeks to drive him to the top!

A figure stood tall at the bow of their ship, one arm raised in salute of the world now opened up to them, “My name is-!”

“Neville?” Hannah called from below. “Are you doing your pirate skit again?”

“No,” Neville called back, amusement clear in his voice. “It’s Susan’s turn this time.”

“We’re not pirates!” Susan snapped to distract from her blush. “We’re liberators! Sailors for Freedom, not Tyranny or Profit!”

“Yes,” Hannah drawled, walking up to join them at the bow. “Freedom to slip and fall right overboard into the harbor.”

Susan turned her nose up with playful pride, “Hmph! I’ll have you know I already have my sealegs!”

“Quite the feat, considering we’re still docked,” Neville chuckled.

Hannah just raised an eyebrow, “Really, now?”

A twitch of her wrist and wand sent a subtle shoving charm Susan’s way. The ‘test’ of Susan’s claim succeeded in pushing her off balance. Her arms wheeled about in wide circles as she tried to regain it.

“Wooah~!” It took a precarious moment, but Susan found her feet again, coming back to glare at Hannah. “Hannah! Be careful! I could’ve fallen in!”

“That was the point, entirely,” Hannah deadpanned.

Neville laughed at their antics, “Probably time to come down, love. This beauty doesn’t need a living figurehead to go with the one it already has.”

“She, Nev,” Susan corrected with a grumble as she complied. “Ships are feminine. And ours is all Woman with a capital ‘W’. Put some respect on her name.”

Hannah gave a single, firm nod, her tone flat and serious, “She’s our big, beautiful bitch. We’ve only had her for a day, but if anything happened to her, I’d kill everyone responsible and then myself.”

Susan nodded right back, “Entirely reasonable.”

“It’s not, but I understand the sentiment,” Neville shook his head fondly.

He really did. The ship was a glorious vessel. And it was all theirs. Built by the Arsenal of Braavos, it’d come to be much quicker than Neville had expected. The truest Free City was a singular existence in their new world. He was glad to have Braavos at their back for their coming crusade. The Faceless Men and their magically hive-minded death cult as well, though Neville had never thought he’d say that…

That alliance was a strange thing. Through the Faceless Men, they secured the Iron Bank as well. All of Braavos, really, for the House of Black and White was deeply entwined with the whole city. And that support went a long, long way.

The result was that funding was no longer in short supply. And their crusade now had many connections — some hidden, some open — to call upon. The death cult founded by freed slaves was rather eager to take part in forced emancipation à la that American patriot, John Brown, Susan had told them about (hearing about him seemed to have the whole hivemind smiling viciously).

Against such an abhorrent institution as slavery, arming the chained and desperate to commit overwhelmingly righteous violence against their oppressors was an answer, and a rather good one at that, Susan had argued.

The Faceless Men agreed. They barely needed to be convinced in the first place. Mostly, they had just wanted to test their resolve. And when it wasn’t found wanting, the death cult was eager to join and aid the crusade.

Of course, it also helped that their patron god seemed to be distantly fond of Lady Hogwarts, in whatever ways inhuman magical entities could be. The Faceless Men called her ‘Bringer of Magic’. Even without crusading against their cult’s founding issue, the witches and wizards of Hogwarts likely would’ve seen support from the House of Black and White in some other form. Considering they were crusading against slavery, though, the Faceless Men were more than ready to throw the whole of their significant resources behind Neville, Susan, and Hannah’s cause.

Preparations moved quickly after that first meeting. The Faceless Men/Iron Bank opened many, many doors in Braavos. All of them, it seemed at times. It was both an economic opening, via the Iron Bank, and a cultural one, via the House of Black and White. The Faceless Men were anything but a public organization, but they still carried an undeniable weight in the city they helped found. It was the kind of influence that no one would acknowledge out loud, but every local knew and respected. For Braavosi, the Faceless Men were as venerated as they were feared.

Neville, Susan, and Hannah were given an all-encompassing line of credit for their crusade. Whatever they needed, the Iron Bank would foot the bill. And when they started arranging everything, they had no issue securing cooperation from all corners. Hell, some parties even came to them!

The construction of their crusading ship was the first aspect put in motion. The shipwrights of Braavos had been waiting for them there and leaped to accommodate their plans. It was likely more freedom with the Arsenal than any non-Braavosi had ever seen.

If that favorable leeway was at all coerced, it quickly became enthusiastic when Neville started presenting ship-building ideas from Earth. He was no master shipwright himself, of course, but he hardly needed to be when the actual masters from the Arsenal were there to call upon. They told him what was and wasn’t feasible, tweaked his suggestions so they would work, and overall seemed delighted by the ideas he was pushing for.

“It’s good to have new blood in these waters,” One of the shipwrights told Neville.

Still, they were the masters, and Neville was just the idea man. He did his part by presenting a coherent vision of what he knew worked from a whole other world of history, but it was up to them to make that vision work here. They were more than up to the task.

The Arsenal was first in the world when it came to shipbuilding, and the competition wasn’t even close. They incorporated talent and techniques from Westeros to the Summer Isles to Yi Ti. Neville would bet good coin that it was that diversity that set the Arsenal in a league of its own.

It also meant that few of his ideas were completely foreign to the master shipwrights of the Arsenal. The sails and rigging from Summer Isles Swan Ships, the size from Yi-Tish Treasure Ships, the stability of Westerosi Carracks, the ruggedness of Ibbenese whalers — most of the pieces were already out there, just waiting to be put together. The end result would be the first ship of her kind, but Neville doubted it would stay that way for long…

Once the design was decided, the Arsenal set to work. The famed shipyards were art in practical motion. The monument of industry that took up one of Braavos’s bigger islands was always bustling. Around the clock, the Arsenal labored, working wood and forming frames and setting sails. It was an assembly line of pure production, and Neville could easily see how it had garnered the fame it did.

Some claimed the Arsenal could push out a ship a day. That was an inaccurate statement, really, an illusion born from the assembly line nature of the shipyards. There was always another vessel being finished on the whole, but individually, each ship still took significant time and effort.

The individual speed of production was still staggering, though. The crusade’s commission wasn’t built in a single day… but it was built in a little over a week.

Thus, The Lady’s New Argo came to be. The name just seemed appropriate for a quest like theirs. Neville, Susan, and Hannah hoped that this Argo would become as famous in this world as its namesake was in their last.

The New Argo would be the first true galleon to sail these waters. Not a galley, not a carrack, not a Swan Ship, or Treasure Ship. She was a new kind of beauty, built for a mission, a quest, a crusade. Built for a legend of freedom that would last the test of time.

Her sails were dyed a rich red — like sunset, not blood — and rigged in a way never before seen by this world. The wood of her construction was a deep black above the waterline and sheathed in thin, gleaming copper below. The flag she flew bore the quartered shield of Hogwarts, and a piece of the Lady’s magic seemed to shine life upon the ship through it.

Three-masted and sitting tall in the water without a forecastle at the bow, she cast a novel and sleek silhouette. She would be fast and fierce in a fight, stable on the high seas, and make an instant statement in the minds of all who saw her. Any who saw her would know awe, envy, inspiration, and no small amount of fear for her enemies.

And that was all before Professor Flitwick got his ‘charming’ hands on her! Once summoned and briefed, the diminutive professor was ecstatic to work on such a large project. His magical efforts ensured the New Argo would always have wind in her sails, would cut through the water like a literal knife (not just metaphoric), and would withstand the mightiest creatures and most treacherous waters these seas had to offer (with the credible tales of sea dragons and kraken, that measure was deemed prudent).

Additionally, the space within the ship had been expanded and made magically livable. None of the usual rigors of sailing (hygiene, boredom, limited capacity, bloody scurvy…) for their crusade, if they could help it, no thank you.

Even before that, the New Argo could crew more than 100 sailors and carry 100 more. After that, her capacity more than doubled. She was a sailing home, a terrible opponent, and hiding a rather shocking secret to top things off.

When Flitwick was given free rein with the New Argo’s enchantments, he certainly took it and ran with it. With his help, she would sail the skies just as easily as she sailed the seas. Hell, she could probably sail straight through land if they pushed her.

“This darling vessel shouldn’t be so limited, not at all! When we feel the need, just find a bit of sea going up, and keep on sailing!” Flitwick gleefully reported.

… They were keeping that ‘little’ surprise in their back pocket for now.

After he completed the New Argo’s enchantments, though, Flitwick didn’t seem very inclined to leave. He wished to ‘stretch his little legs, explore, and contribute more to their worthy cause! Err-… supervise. I mean supervise, yes…’

There were worse ‘chaperones’ to have, especially since he didn’t seem all that focused on keeping them out of trouble. Claiming the opposite would be more accurate. Flitwick wanted in on the fun and all its consequences. Neville suspected he wanted to one-up Professor Sprout and her ‘Puff Cartel more than he wanted to keep them in line.

Professor Flitwick wasn’t trying to usurp command of the crusade from Neville, Susan, and Hannah, though. Nor was he the only new face looking to join up with their cause.

That development came on the back of the tragedy that delayed their initial departure. Being called back to Hogwarts for a funeral had been heartbreaking. Ginny… Neville could barely believe she was gone. The loss struck them all hard. But it also spurred almost all of them into action of some kind or another.

Neville knew Ron was deadset on a crusade of his own, railing against the dark faiths that had taken his sister. He certainly had no shortage of volunteers for that endeavor. Hogwarts as a whole desired vengeance, and Ron was giving them the chance for it. He’d mostly be sticking to Westeros, however, working side by side with the ‘Puff Cartel.

For their side of things, good friends came calling. Along with Professor Flitwick, the crusade was now joined by Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, Katie Bell, Tracy Davis, Terry Boot, Sue Li, and Justin Flinch-Fletchley. A little bit of everyone from each of Hogwarts’s houses.

The prevailing sentiment throughout the castle after Ginny’s death was a need to do something. Neville, Susan, and Hannah’s crusade — or the ‘Essosi Odyssey’ as Tracy immediately took to calling it, uncaring of the mixed myths at play — was one significant outlet for that sentiment. Ron’s crusade was another. And others still would likely be finding their own productive ways to cope with the loss that struck Hogwarts so gravely.

With what they planned to do, more witches and wizards were always welcome. Fighting the institution of slavery across a whole continent wouldn’t be an easy task. It was the work of a generation, really, even for witches and wizards. And in the end, it only helped to have more hands on call. Neville, Susan, and Hannah were still leading the crusade. The others were just there for the ride, there to make history — the Hoggy Argonauts to their Hoggy New Argo.

And while Hogwarts was leading the Essosi Odyssey by far, they weren’t the only ones joining the quest. Support from the Faceless Men was support from Braavos. Neville, Susan, and Hannah quickly saw an absolute flood of recruits and volunteers from the Freest City.

If there was one thing the Braavosi despised most as a culture and people, it was slavery. ‘Perfectly understandable, really,’ Neville thought. Chains were a dark, dark reality of Essos… but they didn’t have to be. And when given the chance to do something, to make a difference, to carve their names into history…? There was no shortage of doggedly determined dreamers and darers with something to prove. Or failing that, Neville knew they could always mostly rely on humanity’s mercenary nature.

The New Argo was crewed mostly by Braavosi or other interested parties who happened to be in the Freest City when they were preparing to embark. Most of them were young and eager for adventure, too. Those that weren’t — the wiser minds and steadier hands, still interested in all the crusade offered — were valuable, and naturally given positions important to the actual running of the ship.

Technically, Neville was the captain of the New Argo. But there were certainly more experienced sailors than him on board. Some more political appointments as well. And others, who they deemed reliable so long as the not-so-proverbial check cleared.

The most obvious political appointment was the nephew of the current Sealord of Braavos. One Lucio Antaryon was assigned to represent his uncle. But the position wasn’t purely one of nepotism. He was a successful sailor on his own merits, having a good few mercantile voyages under his belt. Still, Neville wasn’t blind to the fact that the man’s uncle had clearly seen the writing on the wall and wanted to get into the good graces of those sponsored by the Iron Bank and Faceless Men.

The other political appointment to the New Argo was… less obvious. Another experienced sailor in his own right, to be fair, but it’d be more accurate to call Calamore Saan an ambassador. He was the son of a supposed pirate king and legendary sellsail, Salladhor Saan. He was one of the ones who happened to be in Braavos at the time, and leaped on the chance to make his own name for himself, away from the fame of his father. The connection there had the potential to be very important, though. They’d likely meet Calamore’s father when they inevitably sailed through the Stepstones.

Lucio and Calamore were valuable advisors with valuable connections to their names. But for the rest of the commanding positions aboard the New Argo, Neville’s recruitment leaned more purely practical than that and political.

There was a pair of well-traveled sellsails from the Stepstones, the twins Lorelei and Isir, to act as the New Argo’s leading midshipmen. Lorelei was sensual and lethal, a pirate femme fatale who always seemed to have a bottle in hand and a smirk on her lips.

Her brother, Isir, was not nearly as sensual, but just as lethal. He was a truly massive man in both height and girth, nearing 7-feet-tall and likely closer to 500 pounds than 400… It was the kind of girth that lay over a whole lot of muscle, though. The sword he wielded was a brutal cutlass wider than Neville’s arm, and he had an equally brutal hook on his right hand. He was a beast of a pirate to match his sister’s femme fatale.

According to the twins, they were no ‘friend to any SLAVER!’ Hannah guessed that there was some tragedy there in their past, from the vehemence in that statement when asked. Neville didn’t think he would find any issue with their commitment to the cause.

The New Argo’s navigator was a squat, stern-faced, no-nonsense man from Ibb named Magnus. He reminded Neville of a dwarf — the fantastical variety — with his eyes that always seemed closed and his stormcloud of a beard. He knew his stuff, though. Calamore claimed that there were ‘no better navigators than those Ibbenese who sail the Shivering Sea with its sea dragons galore.’

Rounding off the New Argo’s command structure was a Faceless Man to aid the crusade in their more… esoteric ways. Neville didn’t get a real name from him (Them? It?). He wasn’t sure the magically hive-minded Faceless Men still had individual names… The New Argo’s contact and assigned assassin answered to ‘Hawk’, though, and thankfully seemed prepared to keep mostly to himself.

Neville dearly wished that was the full extent of the New Argo’s crew. It… wasn’t, however. Because, most notably, alongside the sailors, the New Argo had seemingly attracted quite a few Braavosi bravos. Those flashy swordsmen who dueled in the streets and lived by the edge of their swords. The same swordsmen who made Neville famous in Braavos, challenging him over and over on his first night in the city until he was known as the ‘Knight of a Thousand Duels’…

The bravos hadn’t just leaped at the recruitment; they outright dueled for their spots aboard the crusade ship. Each of them was a character. So much so that they blended together more than they stood out. Neville supposed the small army of skilled sword duelists was good to have… but that didn’t mean he couldn’t grumble about it.

Leading the New Argo’s bravos was one named Inigo Montoya. Neville had apparently killed his father in one of his ‘Thousand Duels’, but as far as Neville could tell, hatred was the last thing on Inigo’s mind. There was no serious grudge of revenge to be found in Inigo, just good-natured rivalry and the desire to test his skills against his father’s killer. It was… It was just weird…

And that wasn’t even mentioning the bewildering coincidence in Inigo’s name and backstory, how similar it was to a Muggle film from Earth, according to Susan and Hannah… He didn’t even try to make sense of that.

Unfortunately, Neville was now stuck with the weirdness. The illogical Bravo culture, the enthusiastic duel-maniacs themselves, and the titled fame they’d given him. All of it! He couldn’t escape! The others found it hilarious. Flitwick just congratulated him on his new rival. The former duelmaster got along way too well with the bravos for Neville’s comfort.

All of that preparation, recruitment, and the tragic delay of Ginny’s death led up to the moment of their departure. It all forged a determined beginning to their Essosi Odyssey.

This wouldn’t be a ‘simple maiden voyage’. They’d be diving clear into the deep end. But Neville knew they were ready. They had to be, all of them. Their enemies wouldn’t go quietly as they sought to destroy the cruel order that propped them up so high on the bloodied backs of millions.

As far as Neville, Susan, and Hannah were concerned, slavery’s death sentence had already been signed. Now, it was up to their crusade to execute it.

IIIII

“Right, Pentos,” Neville said, bringing the somewhat formal meeting to order. “What are we sailing into?”

“Apart from terrible bravos that disgrace the very name?” Inigo laughed and laughed at the idea and his own joke.

The New Argo was underway. A trip that should’ve been at least two weeks at sea was being cut nearly in half. They didn’t have to stick in sight of the shoreline, instead taking a parabolic arc-shaped route from Braavos to Pentos. There was no fear of getting lost in open waters. The Hogwarts compass and sextant made sure of that, and the New Argo’s enchantments made it outright impossible beyond.

She was sailing smoothly and swiftly, like a pleasant dream across a nightmarish mind. She hadn’t taken to the skies yet, but one could’ve been forgiven for thinking so with the way the ship sliced through the waves like open air. The experienced sailors in the crew could barely believe it, everything. The New Argo practically sailed herself.

… That statement might’ve been a bit more literal than most of the crew realized. After their voyage began, Flitwick had come to Neville with an ecstatic report that the New Argo was already showing the start of a magical soul of her own. Eventually, she’d likely be considered Lady Hogwarts’s daughter. But for now, that life was still only showing in little ways — a steadier rudder, a few tweaked sails here and there, the way her hull quite literally sang over the waves, etc.

Still, that ease of sailing was much appreciated. It let Neville call this meeting to gather information from the advisors and well-traveled crew at their disposal. Pentos was the closest ‘Free’ City to Braavos, and the natural first stop on their Essosi Odyssey. But even there, the waters ahead of them were already… murky…

Calamore Saan hummed with amusement to answer Neville’s opening question with a question of his own, “Officially? Or actually?”

“There’s a diff-… Of course, there’s a difference,” Neville sighed. “Let’s start with the official view, and fill in the blanks or correct things from there.”

“Officially, Pentos has submitted itself as a protectorate of benevolent Braavos for nearly a hundred years!” Lucio Antaryon proudly declared before deflating. “… But even I will acknowledge that statement is only surface deep in truth.”

“No Pentoshi would ever call themselves ‘protected’ by Braavos. The cunts yearn for their old slaving power and independence,” Lorelei drawled lazily. Her beast of a brother was nodding along mutely. “‘Oppressed’ would be much more common to hear. Braavos won their wars and imposed their laws and decrees, beggaring and castrating them, as far as the Pentoshi are concerned.”

“Pentos is a whole state unto itself, is it not?” Flitwick asked. “I suppose that’s where the differences between the official and actual points of view come in…”

“Aye,” Calamore snorted. “After winning the last war, Braavos officially abolished slavery in Pentos. But over the years, it’s become an unenforceable decree. Slavery in Pentos still lives as a mostly open secret.”

“I worried as much,” Susan said, her lips set sternly.

“Servants that don’t get paid, that have no opportunity to leave, that are as abused as any in actual chains,” Lucio scowled. “Slaves in all but name. The only decrees of Braavos to last the years have been the limits on the warships and armies. But even then, the Magisters and Prince of Pentos will go to great lengths to skirt that decree with sellswords and free companies hired on via proxies and deniability.”

“… They have no professional army, though?” Sue Li asked for clarification. “That is… good news, at least.”

“Says you,” Seamus frowned. “I won’t get to blow up nearly as many people.”

Dean laughed, “You’ll get more than enough chances, you madman!”

“The bastards also deal with the horse fuckers,” Magnus grunted.

“Horse fuckers?” Tracy asked with audible amusement.

“The Dothraki,” Hawk, having remained silent so far, spoke up.

Judging by the way the other locals twitched and flinched, it was better when the Faceless Man was ‘merely’ lurking in the shadows of the room rather than making himself known.

“A blight in the center of Essos,” Hawk continued. “The most terrible gears that turn in the most terrible machine of slavery. They rape and reave and ravage, raiding all across their Great Grass Sea. They sell the flesh they claim in those raids to the so-called ‘Free’ Cities. Then, they repeat the cycle without end, for there is always more flesh to be taken and profit to be had while they have the strength to claim it. Others may sell, buy, and hold chains, but the Dothraki facilitate it all with their culture based on strength and their terrorizing of a continent.

“The Pentoshi are at their mercy more than the other Free Cities. Many times in the past, they’ve cut deals for the sanctity of their city. Placating the rampaging hordes with treasures and gifts and often, their own people. The Magisters of Pentos have no shame, nor does their Prince, and all suffer for it.”

“I heard rumors in Myr that a whole host of them was riding that way,” Calamore informed them, saying so almost casually.

Hannah nodded, “Perfect. We won’t have to go looking, then.”

Susan matched her statement with a vicious grin. Neville matched it with a firm nod. The others from Hogwarts seemed equally on board with the opportunity. To the point that the rest of their command crew were starting to lean away from them.

“Two kinds of oppressor, one boom? Sign me up!” Seamus cackled.

“If they like their horses so much, we’ll see how they like my ride~…” Katie purred.

“Nothing is so much fun as a target-rich environment!” Flitwick giggled and clapped.

“This… This is a whole khal we are talking about, no?” Inigo asked cautiously. “I applaud the confidence, to be sure, but perhaps… perhaps we lunge without stepping first…?”

“It’s what? 10-20 thousand actual combatants?” Tracy asked.

“That might be on the low side, lovely witch,” Lorelei snorted.

“And I promise, you’ve never seen anything like a full-strength khal on the raidpath,” Calamore said seriously.

“Well, they’ve never seen witches and wizards on a mission,” Katie shot back.

“Much less Seamus,” Dean half-joked.

“Much less Susan, too,” Neville joined the joke.

“And that’s still without mentioning all I’ve done to enchant the New Argo!” Flitwick chimed. “She is no slouch! No slouch at all! I’d place her against dragons — sea, ice, or fire — at the least, and this young lady would be no easy prey for any of them!”

“High claims for a little man!” Inigo laughed disbelievingly. “At the very least, they won’t chase us into the sea; that much is true. I’ve heard it goes against everything the Dothraki are. They loathe the sea as I might loathe not giving my all against any opponent in a duel.”

“Yes… Yes, that is to our advantage,” Lucio confirmed, his nerves seeming to settle with that statement. “The Dothraki would sooner die than ride anything but their horses. Furthermore, the sea is poison to them. If all else fails, we simply return to the New Argo here and they won’t dare follow.”

“It won’t come to that,” Hannah said confidently.

“It can’t,” Neville agreed. “If it does, that would mean we’ve failed every slave they take and sell. I won’t let these nomadic hordes live to continue their slaving, raiding ways. Trust me, they’ll be trying to escape us, not the other way around.”

“Sounds like we have two jobs at hand when we make landfall again,” Terry Boot mused to put their coming targets into words. “The open secret of slavery in Pentos, and then, whatever rampaging ‘khal’ that is present, too.”

“I don’t disagree… But I think I’m just now realizing the true scope of the task we’ve signed up for,” Lucio muttered.

“Impossible, some would say,” Calamore nodded in agreement. “But then, so are these witches and wizards and their magicks.”

“The House of Black and White has the utmost confidence in Hogwarts’s righteous crusade,” Hawk stated, not a flinch or waver in earshot.

That wholehearted support seemed to go quite a ways toward soothing the other Essosi’s fears and worries.

“That seal of approval is not handed out lightly,” Luvio said, visibly reassured.

“We’ll live up to it and more,” Susan confidently declared.

“As my dear former students have said, Essos has seen nothing like these witches and wizards on a mission,” Flitwick agreed with some amusement. “They already have one successful rebellion under their belts. What are half a dozen more?”

“Yes…! Yes, I can see it now! The Knight of a Thousand Duels will add another to his count,” Inigo exclaimed with flair, thinking in the way only a bravo could. “Truly, a rival worth following! He will cut down this Khal and scatter his bloodriders to the wind!”

“Yeah, Knight of a Thousand (and One) Duels,” Tracy smirked. “You’ll do just that, won’t you~?”

“Individual strength is a good position to deal with the Dothraki from,” Hawk calmly advised.

Calamore nodded, “They understand it better than anyone. The leading Khal is all that holds their hordes together at times. Cut his braid, and they’ll dissipate back into their Great Grass Sea.”

Neville just sighed, though, “If I have to… But I’d rather go with Seamus’s way of doing things.”

The quintessential Irishman of the crusade gave a manic grin, “BOOM! Asymmetrical warfare at its finest!”

Susan barely stifled her giggles, “You can’t give Seamus free rein to blow up all of our future problems, love.”

“You sure?” Dean joked. “He’s got enthusiasm to spare for the subject.”

“We’ll still need boots on the ground at some point here,” Hannah rolled her eyes. “There will be sensitive targets we can’t blow up wholesale from the ship.”

“Controlled demolitions, then,” Seamus shrugged.

Flitwick laughed, “Leave some fun for the rest of us, young man!”

Inigo cut in there with a firm declaration, “Indeed! But whatever the course of action, know that the true bravos of Braavos will fight for your noble cause, Knight of a Thousand Duels!”

“My talents are also at your disposal,” Hawk gave a shallow bow.

“Isir and I don’t mind getting our hands dirty,” Lorelei waved a lazy offer. “Land or sea, we don’t much care so long as slavers die in droves.”

Her beast of a brother gave a single, firm nod, “Grrmph.”

“I’ll help sail your ship and advise you, but I am afraid I’m no bravo,” Lucio said apologetically. “Nonetheless, you have my support, and my uncle’s through me. The Sealord approves of our mission here.”

“I can hold my own with a blade in hand,” Calamore agreed. “But I’m much better with wind, waves, and words. Make good progress in Pentos, though, and I’ll bet my old man will approve.”

“You hired me to navigate,” Magnus grunted. “I navigate.”

“And you don’t even need to ask for the rest of us,” Justin laughed. “We knew what we were getting into when we joined up. We’ll follow your lead, Neville. You’re making history here. I know I want to be part of that in any way I can. Whatever the plans end up being, we’re with you.”

Gratitude and determination swelled in Neville’s heart at all of the declarations of support, “Thank you… It won’t be easy. We’ve got a nigh-impossible task ahead of us. But… I know this crew is enough to see it through, enough to make a real difference in the lives of so many. These damned slavers have no idea what’s coming for them.”

IIIII

— Daenerys Targaryen —

Dany looked out over the city that hosted her and her brother, only the most recent backdrop for a life on the run. Braavos, Lys, Myr, Tyrosh, Volantis, and now, Pentos. They never stayed in any for long. They couldn’t, Viserys insisted, lest the Usurper’s damned assassins catch them!

That constant change, like a pair of birds forever flitting from branch to branch, was all she’d ever known. In her memories, it was how she kept track of the years. She couldn’t imagine that was normal. Not for those who had a home to return to.

Dany didn’t, though. Her place was beside her brother, and he didn’t have a place, in truth. Westeros, he always claimed. Atop the Iron Throne, he insisted as if desperately trying to wear a glove that didn’t fit. Home, he reminded her, even if Dany had never been…

The closest things she had to a home were memories, and even they weren’t clear in her mind. A red door. Animal faces carved into wooden beams. The view of a lemon tree outside the window. Kind Ser Willem Darry… But with his death — that old hurt back when she didn’t even know hurt — the red door was forever closed to her. She didn’t think she remembered enough to find it again.

Then came her life on the run from every shadow, every hooded figure, every host Viserys offended. It took its toll. Viserys had been good and kind once. Better, at least. Then, he was named ‘Beggar Prince’ — behind his back, but Dany still heard — and their failure to secure any real support began to weigh heavier and heavier.

His offers, his demands for support, were laughed at by all who heard them, all who’d had enough of Viserys’s claims. Some implored him to accept the ‘reality’ of his position. Others hosted him with only selfish intentions in mind. And more than a few were just waiting to sell them out to the Usurper. Viserys saw through it all. He seethed and simmered. But he never gave up. Dany had to thank him for that much, at least.

There was always another scheme for support or plot for protection, always another person of power to lean upon. Viserys promised riches and rewards for any who helped him reclaim his throne. None of those promises took hold, none of them held weight from a Beggar Prince. Inevitably, he and Dany were forced out and onto the next.

Years and years of that failure brought them here, hosted by Magister Illyrio. Viserys claimed he was different, that everything would change here. He’d made such claims before. Dany dearly wished to believe him.

Pentos had been good to her, at least. They were not living on the streets, but in a luxurious manse and estate. They were not ignored, but heard by someone with money and power. They were not abused, but valued, protected, and brought to nurse upon the teats of hope.

Dany had rooms to call her own and kind servants to tend to her. She had a view of the city from a beautiful balcony. She had food and clean drink and clothes, and that was what she cherished most.

The city splayed out before and below her, a view of wealth and civilization she’d rarely experienced. Tiled roofs and buildings of brick and stone and high walls and bountiful estates. It spread all the way to the sea, and there, a port bustled with constant activity. Ships from all over the world, come to taste Pentos’s wealth and culture as Dany now did.

Her attention was caught by one ship in particular, with its rich red sails and unique shape. She’d never seen another like it. But then, how many ships had she truly seen…?

Still, the ship held her eye and wouldn’t let go. Something about it… She could barely put it into words in her mind. A distant feeling of hope, of change, of freedom… For a moment, she imagined a ship of her own, just like that one, offering both freedom and a place to belong away from it all. A home…

Magister Illyrio’s manse sat on a cliff over the harbor, closer to the water than many others. Dany could even make out the individual sailors on that fascinating ship. A pair of them, young and fit men, were engaged in a friendly duel of swords. Another pair watched on, one young woman with red hair like a vibrant flame and another with blonde hair like spun, glittering gold.

As if feeling her eyes, the two young women turned their gazes up and found her. They waved, and Dany swore (hoped…) she could make out friendly smiles on their faces despite the distance. Before she realized, Dany found herself waving (and smiling) back.

A familiar voice from behind her shattered the moment, and Dany’s heart dropped as she turned, “Your bath, Sister. The servants wait to attend you. Come, while it’s still hot.”

“Yes, Brother,” Dany nodded obediently and complied, her own voice barely a whisper as she left the ruined moment on the balcony behind.

Unfortunately, Viserys didn’t seem content to leave her to bathe alone today. He matched her steps, always a few paces ahead, practically leading her into her own bathing chambers. There, those kind servants gifted to her were waiting. They might’ve greeted her with gentle smiles and pleasant gossip… if Viserys hadn’t entered first.

Slowly, not quite showing her reluctance, Dany let the servants disrobe her. Viserys didn’t turn away, but he didn’t necessarily stare, either. Instead, he tested the water of the bath, and a grin quickly bloomed across his face.

“Perfect~… No heat should bother a dragon. Come, Sister, you will enjoy this.”

Would she…? She might have. She wasn’t sure she would anymore.

Still, she helped herself into the bath. The heat didn’t hurt, but it burned all the same. A tingling of awakened nerves across her submerged skin. Ruined only by the way her kind servants couldn’t touch that same water without wincing.

“Our host still believes his previous path is best for us,” Viserys said, utterly ignoring any preamble or small talk and already expecting Dany to keep up with him. “I am not so sure, but it is already set in motion. We shall wait and see.”

“I… will not marry, then?” Dany asked softly.

“Oh, you will marry, Sister,” Viserys corrected her with a sort of leering grin that brought an unpleasant tightening to Dany’s chest, despite the relaxing heat of the bath.

“But I no longer believe Illyrio’s… ploy… is so necessary for our future,” Viserys continued. “Circumstances have… changed. The wretched horse lord cannot bring me anything I cannot now seize for myself.”

He circled around behind her as he spoke and leaned over the edge of the bath to put his hands on her slender shoulders. The touch was almost gentle. Almost comforting. Almost loving. Dany struggled not to physically flinch away.

“B-Brother?” She asked. “W-What has changed…?”

Viserys’s answering chuckle was a sinister thing, and Dany had to remind herself that she was family, not his enemy…

“What has changed, dear Sister…? Why, the dragon has begun to wake, that’s what…”

A flash of fear consumed Dany’s mind at those words, for just an instant. The strike she was unconsciously anticipating never came. Instead, Viserys held one hand before her eyes, and somehow did something worse than merely striking her in anger.

Flames flared in his palm. Dragonfire, twisted to his raging will. Unlike the pleasant burn of the bathwater, this heat hurt. It even hurt to look at, burning images of flickering flame into her vision. Too close, too angry, too uncontrolled! Not hers, not natural! Every instinct in her body, mind, and soul screamed that her own brother’s flames would consume her whole if given the chance.

Dany’s mind panicked, but she still didn’t flinch away. No, instead, she froze.

Viserys seemed to take her stillness for acceptance and approval, “Magnificent, is it not? I am truly a dragon, blessed by the Fourteen Flames! With this magic, with this fire from my blood, we have no need of barbarous horse fuckers! Now, it is only a matter of time before I burn the Usurper off my throne…”

From the corner of her eye, Dany saw the utterly horrified looks of her kind servants. Fear, terror, helplessness… all for her sake. With a surge of will, she mustered her voice enough to speak and distract her brother before he could potentially notice and turn his twisted flames on them as an example for her ‘appreciation’…

“I’m… glad, Brother…”

“Glad?” Viserys chuckled. “Yes, I imagine you would be ‘glad’. Worry not, Sister. I will not waste you on some damnable horse fucker if I do not have to. A pure Targaryen bride meant for far greater things than that son of a horse could ever fathom, and I… I no longer know the word ‘desperation’.

“Worry not, Sister, all shall be as it should be. As the gods have always intended for our royal family. When you marry, it will be a splendid, righteous, triumphant affair, and you shall be a queen. I promise~…”

“T-Thank y-you-…!” Dany barely managed to squeak out what she felt would be the only ‘acceptable’ answer to Viserys.

She needn’t have bothered. She could see that he hadn’t heard her. Or simply didn’t care. Both, most likely… Instead, his focus was entirely on the twisted flames dancing in his palm. He left Dany to her bath like that, utterly blind to the rest of the world.

Her kind, kind servants rushed for her as soon as he was gone, real horror and concern in all of their expressions and soothing gestures. What was she supposed to feel when ‘mere’ servants saw and cared about her more than her own brother…?

Dany didn’t know. But as one kind servant — Lia, mother to another of her kind servants — braved the heat of the bath to hold her tight, Dany cherished the embrace more than any other touch she remembered. It washed away her brother’s touch (almost, almost, almost…!) and the sight of those terrible flames.

She thought back to the ship she’d seen in the harbor, then, and desperately, dearly, wished it was sailing for her, for her freedom, for her home.

IIIII

[AN: Just one chapter left here, and I plan to leave The Grind on a bang. The beginning of Dany’s arc certainly won’t go according to canon, not even close. Next chapter might end up being a long one, but I’ll try to push through it in a reasonable time frame so I can get onto KYBERPUNK. There, I’m pretty excited to finally get Atom’s story moving off Nar Shaddaa (Space politics, space warfare, space conquest and empire-building, oh my!). Let the chrome fly and the Hutts die, Chooms!]

IIIII

Bonus Pics (sauce below)