Breaker, Broken | Jorah Mormont

Chapter 4

Saera the Slayer, The Sand Dragon, The Red Serpent.

How easily might 'serpent' turn into 'usurper?'

What was next on her list of titles? Queen?

She wished that hitting her head with her own hands would actually get rid of her sinful thoughts.

Their forces gathered outside of Yunkai, waiting for the slaves to come and meet them. Daenerys was already in a foul mood and quickly growing impatient.

"They will come, Your Grace," Ser Barristan assured her. "When they're ready."

"Perhaps they didn't want to be conquered," murmured Daenerys.

"You didn't conquer them," said Ser Jorah. "You liberated them."

"People learn to love their chains."

"Only if they do not know any better," said Saera. "You will show them a better way."

Daenerys wished this was the feeling she could focus on instead of all the negativity swirling around.

The doors opened, the slaves of Yunkai walking out in a large mass to meet them. All with their chains still around their necks, tired and carrying nothing but the clothes on their backs.

Missandei spoke up, "Bisa iksis Daenērys Targārien. Se Jelmāzmo, se Dorzalty, se Dāria Sikudo Dārȳti Vestero, se Muña Zaldrīzoti. Issa naejot zirȳla ao enkagon aōha dāez–" (T: This is Daenerys Targaryen. The Stormborn, the Unburnt, the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros, the Mother of Dragons. It is to her you owe your freedom–)

"No," said Daenerys, stopping her. "Gaomā daor enkagon nyke aōha dāez. Nyke daor tepagon ziry naejot ao. Aōha dāez iksis daor ñuhon naejot tepagon. Issa aōhon se aōhon mērī. Lo jaelā ziry arlī, istia gūrogon ziry syt aōla. Mirre se tolvie mēre hen ao." (T: You do not owe me your freedom. I cannot give it to you. Your freedom is not mine to give. It belongs to you and you alone. If you want it back, you must take it for yourselves. Each and every one of you.)

"Mhysa!" a man and his daughter cried out. The chant grew, louder and louder, each of the slaves calling out to her.

"What does it mean?" asked Daenerys.

"It is old Ghiscari, Khaleesi," said Missandei. "It means 'mother.'"

Daenerys smiled, walking out to them, asking her dragons to fly into the air and the Unsullied to clear a path for her to reach out and hold the hands of those who called for her.

They all wanted to touch her, all wanted her to notice them. They lifted her up, acknowledging her as their mother, as the woman who gave them authority over their own freedom.

She decided that their next target would be Meereen. Their tents were packed, the Yunkish came along with them carrying everything they could own. The trip would be long now that they had to stop more frequently to find food for everyone and accommodate some of the older population who could not walk as fast. Daenerys was fine with taking her time, walking proud and with her head held high.

"This came for you, Princess," said Ser Jorah two weeks later, offering Saera a letter as she sat on a rock overlooking the sea at once of their camps. "Delivered by a man who claims to be working for The Viper."

She smiled, accepting the parchment. "Prince Oberyn. A truer father to me than my own was." She unfurled it, reading quickly, "They're about to leave Dorne to attend Prince Joffrey's wedding to Lady Margaery Tyrell. I suppose by now they've arrived in King's Landing. Oh..." she furrowed her brows, "Robb Stark is dead. Murdered at the Twins along with his wife... oh, oh gods... orchestrated by the Lannisters and the Boltons... a massacre... desecrated his body and that of Lady Catelyn Stark. That is awful!"