Mossador killed the Harpy.
"Why?" said Daenerys angrily as he was brought in by Unsullied guards. Ser Barristan and Saera stood on opposite sides of her, guarding her as she glared down at Mossador, who didn't seem to feel any remorse; why would he? As he said, it was the custom of Meereen to call for blood.
"A she, Mhysa," said Mossador calmly. "Evlī shka ye yazdhang mrúlilash, e we wandhosh yelish eshpa filma. A chetang ye sherwa, she yela chet." (T: For you, Mhysa. You wanted the Harpy dead, but your hands were tied. I set you free, as you did all of us.)
Daenerys replied in disbelief, "Ilva ozguroty iles, iderenni jumbare. Drive mijeta." (T: He was a prisoner, awaiting trial. You had no right.)
"Mel prijashish a och nyesk oreshish fuzdhal khroj shing we che." (T: He would rather rip your city apart than see slaves lifted from the dirt.)
"Buzdari hezir ilusy daor. Aeksia hezir ilusy daor." (T: There are no more slaves. There are no more Masters. )
He didn't seem to believe this. "She shpal shemash pa khamvaj? Shpal nyiwesh pa prokh ej shil she shenash wa aj? Eshka fej majidhash wa yel, nyghel khurong nya azanj a ye mel. Odhavang shil ewe nyej es nya kiv eshka qweang ye ashke shka chetash ye fiwa trej yosh ye. Nya kiv mrultash eshka ozwilíwilesh. Ro rushij pa Trej eshpa Yazdhang yel tujeva wa pa filma, khiotash thol." (T: Then who lives in the pyramids? Who wears gold masks and murders your children? When Grey Worm came to us, I was the first to take up the knife for you. I remember the look on my father's face as I struck down his Master, who had traded his infant son for a dog. My father died in the fighting. If we allow the Sons of the Harpy to return us to chains, he never lived.)
Daenerys trembled, "Gurogon Jazdano glaeson aohon istos daor. Sirgo, Aeksia vettrir ilis–" (T: The Harpy's life was not yours to take. Once, the Masters were the law—)
He interrupted, "She shil ol shka ye fetril." (T: And now you are the law.)
"Vettrir vettrir issa. Gūrogon zirȳla." (T: The law is the law. Take him.)
Two Dothraki grabbed him, dragging him away. The Unsullied led the way through the crowds crying for 'Mhysa,' to the same platform where she'd ordered the crucifixions.
"Daenerys," warned Saera. "If we were going to employ a system of a fair trial for a Son of the Harpy, we ought to do the same here, show that death is not just given for everyone who does something wrong. They both deserved the right to explain themselves."
She'd already made up her mind.
"She should have cut off the traitor's head in the Great Pyramid and been done with it," said Hizdahr nervously to Daario and Saera as Daenerys motioned for the Unsullied to prepare for an execution.
"Which is what I keep telling her to do to you," quipped Daario.
"This cannot end well," whispered Saera nervously, the crowd not knowing what was about to happen.
"Kivyso daervi drivi emiluks vestretan," Daenerys announced to the crowd, "separ jevi remia ynot drañedat. Jahe idañe mijerior tolion sagon kostos daor." (T: You opened your gates to me because I promised you freedom and justice. One cannot exist without the other.)
As Mossador was pushed to his knees in front of Daenerys, the Meereenese cried out, "Somvash! Somvash!" (T: Brother! Brother!)
"Mhysa, kotlo!" begged Mossador, regretful. "Ing yeliré!" (T: Mhysa, please! Forgive me!)
Daenerys called out, "Mirino pastys iderenni jumbiles se bisa vala ziry ossentas. Qilonarion morghon issa." (T: A citizen of Meereen was awaiting trial and this man murdered him. The punishment is death.)
The Meereense did not want this. "Ye chevelya!" they cried. (T: Mercy!)
She turned to Daario, who stood behind Mossador, holding his arakh against the man's neck even as the people cried out, opposing it.
They didn't want blood. They didn't want him to die.
But none of it had convinced Daenerys to change her mind.
"Mandia, kostilus," pleaded Saera. "Keligon bisa." (T: Sister, please. Stop this.)
Instead, she nodded to Daario, who sliced off his head.
The cries died instantly. Suddenly, the Meereense began to hiss at her in unison, shunning her and deciding she was no longe rather mother. A rock flew at them, the remaining masters and freedmen trying to attack each other. Ser Barristan, Daario, and the Unsullied led Daenerys and Missandei quickly to safety, while Saera followed beneath the protection of Unsullied shields, stones banging over their heads and threatening to break their skulls.
"I'll stand guard outside your door tonight, Your Grace," offered Ser Barristan when they reached the pyramid.
"We'll all guard tonight," said Grey Worm.
"Leave me," she whispered. They strode out without protest.
She'd been alone for only a few minutes before she gave them orders of where to stand, a strangely blissful look on her face. Saera didn't know what to make of it.
Ser Barristan guarded outside her room, Saera inside by the balcony, in case anyone tried to climb in; Daario did it to sneak in when Daenerys wanted to spend the night with him and she didn't want to risk someone else trying the same just to kill her.
The Unsullied and Dothraki surrounded the pyramid, guarding through the night. Saera wished she could go into the catacombs to visit Viserion again, but it simply wasn't the time for that.
Another letter from Ellaria arrived letting her know that King Tommen had wed Margaery Tyrell and that Jamie Lannister had snuck into Dorne accompanied by a sellsword to rescue Myrcella Baratheon. Apparently a religious group called the Sparrows was causing trouble in King's Landing, causing further instability that could have been beneficial if the plan was still to conquer. Saera didn't know what to make of any of it, but she wrote back (as she had before), reminding Ellaria to not hurt Myrcella; it wouldn't bring Oberyn back. Myrcella was just a girl, not at all like her mother.
Even the Kingslayer, they couldn't exactly fault for coming in on a mission from the Queen, who was apparently under the impression that her daughter was in danger because of a 'message' that had been sent. Saera knew it to be a threat from Ellaria, and worried she was the next person she'd hear was dead. Who would write to her, then? The Sand Snakes weren't going to take the time to write a letter to tell her; they'd act and most likely die trying to avenge her. Then, she'd know nothing from Dorne. Prince Doran couldn't risk writing to her.
She wished to go back to Dorne if only to keep Ellaria from acting on her impulses. But Daenerys needed her here. She had asked Saera sit with her as a counselor– not a guard– at all future audiences with the Meereenese. Clearly, she hadn't really thought the Meereenese would take Mossador's execution poorly.
Their first claimant was Hizdahr zo Loraq, who was miraculously still alive after they escaped the platform. Only Daario, Saera, and Missandei were present; Ser Barristan had taken a turn on patrol with Grey Worm, refusing to let Saera out of the pyramid knowing what might happen to her out there.
"All men must die," Hizdahr began, "but not all can die in glory."
"Glory?" asked Daeneyrs.
"Why else do men fight?" posed Hizdahr. "Why did your ancestors cross the Narrow Sea and conquer the Seven Kingdoms? So their names would live on. Those who find victory in the fightings pits will never become kings, but their names will live on. It's the best chance they'll ever have."
She didn't seem impressed. "Is that what you used to tell men before you set them to butchering each other for sport?"
"Your Grace, today is the traditional start of fighting season."
"I do not recognize this tradition."
"Traditions are the only thing that will hold this city– your city– together. Without them, former slaves and former masters have nothing in common. Nothing but centuries of mistrust and resentment. I can't promise this is the answer to all our problems, but it's a start."
Daenerys looked at Saera, who cleared her throat and said, "It would be wise to indulge them, Your Grace. This has gone on long enough; we don't want the uprisings to escalate. I say we reopen with the rules I recommended. I offer to be the first fighter, to show that we respect their tradition. We must make a decision quickly and act now, because given what they witnessed yesterday... well, not only is a Son of the Harpy dead, but so is one of the freedmen. Someone will be out for blood now that they think that is the way of things. Let us start implementing a new system, where they can fight and use their skills as they wish, but show them it does not always have to end in death. Fights without killing strikes, trials that only end in death if a council has proven that they are guilty."
Hizdahr nodded fervently in agreement. Daenerys cleared her throat, "I will take this under consideration. Tomorrow, I will make an announcement with what I have decided. Thank you, Hizdahr zo Loraq... you may go. There are fifty to a hundred more claimants after you and I intend to hear them all today."
They didn't make it through all of them.
Black Fist arrived, bleeding and nearly unconscious, to say they'd been tricked into an ambush with the Sons of the Harpy. At least twenty Unsullied were dead, Grey Worm was severely injured, and Ser Barristan was dead.
"We knew this was coming," said Saera weakly, kneeling beside the slab of marble that Ser Barristan had been laid upon. She held his hand, growing colder despite how tight she held it. Missandei was at Grey Worm's bedside, hoping he would wake soon. "We need to end this, Daenerys, we need to give them what they want and stop this."
"I'm so sorry, my Queen and Princess," said Hizdahr sadly behind them. "He was a good man."
"'Barristan the Bold,' they called him," said Daenerys, trying to remain strong. "He risked his life to save my sister, he crossed a continent to bring her to me and to serve me. He was a loyal friend. And he died in an alley, butchered by cowards who hide behind masks."
Daario spoke up quietly, "We could pull back to the pyramid district, secure it, and use it as a base from which to operate. Then, we clean the city out, neighborhood by neighborhood, street by street, until the rats have nowhere left to hide."
"I prefer your earlier suggestion," said Daenerys, turning to him. "Round up the leaders of each of Meereen's great families and bring them to me."
"But... I'm the leader of my family," said Hizdahr nervously. The Unsullied that led him in grabbed him suddenly. "No–! Your Grace– I had nothing to do with this!"
"Daenerys, no," said Saera immediately. "You cannot continue killing people for this when it's already gone so poorly before! Not all of them are guilty. We can't take prisoners if we have no idea who was involved, we can't give them all a trial and put innocents through the same things as those who are guilty. Daario is right, we can comb through the city little by little, question citizens, take only those guilty as prisoners and give them all trials. Eventually we will have all the Sons of the Harpy–"
"I've decided," said Daenerys, staring coldly at Ser Barristan's body. "They will suffer for what they did."
She had the leaders brought down to the catacombs, ushered toward where Rhaegal and Viserion were chained up. Saera could see Rhaegal had come forward, but not Viserion, who awaited her command.
"Geron naejot," said Daenerys, having the Unsullied trap the leaders in front of the dragons. (T: walk forward.)
"Ao daor gaomagon bisa!" pleaded one of the masters. (T: You cannot do this!)
Daenerys did not change her mind. The Unsullied poked and prodded until they were right where Daenerys wanted them. All eight leaders stood in a line, able to see the faint outline of the dragons.
"Kessi ipradagon ao lo nyke ivestragon zirȳ naejot," said Daenerys. "Kostis ipradagon ao sesīr lo nyke ȳdra daor. Riñar... mirri ivestragon nyke tepagon bē va zirȳ. Yn iā sȳz muña dōrī tepagon bē va zirȳla riñar. Ziry bodmagho zirȳ lo ziry ēdruta." She had Daario shove one forward at random. "Yn ziry gaomas daor tepagon bē va zirȳ." (T: They will eat you if I tell them to. They may eat you even if I don't. Children... some say I should give up on them. But a good mother never gives up on her children. She disciplines them if she must. But she does not give up on them.)
Rhaegal immediately blew fire onto him, roasting him as he screamed, begging for mercy. The other masters watched, horrified, as Rhaegal began to eat the burning body. Viserion only watched, staring at Saera. Daenerys noticed it, and said, "Viserion, ipradagon." (T: Viserion, eat.)
He didn't move an inch. Saera whispered, "Māzis, ipradagon." (T: Come, eat.)
Viserion began to share in the meal, ripping the master apart. "Qilōni iksis daor quba? Kostilus valar hen iksā, kostilus mirre hen iksā." She put her hand on Hizdahr's shoulder to intimidate him. "Kostilus, nyke ivestragī se zaldrīzoti iderēbagon." (T: Who is innocent? Maybe all of you are, maybe none of you are. Maybe, I should let the dragons decide.)
"Valar Morghulis," he whispered, accepting his fate. (T: All men must die.)
Daenerys stepped back. "Don't want to overfeed them. Tomorrow perhaps." The Unsullied led the rest of the leaders away. She waited until they were gone to turn to Saera, "What did you do?"
"I came to feed them," said Saera honestly. "They should not be chained here, I already told you that. I... I spoke to them in Valyrian. Rhaegal paid me no attention but Viserion did. Even you acknowledged that there was a connection."
"So you claimed him?" said Daenerys darkly. "You claimed him as your dragon?"
There was no sense in pretending that wasn't what he'd just proven by not listening to his mother. "I didn't think it would be so easy."
Her lip curled angrily, "Gūrogon zirȳla arlī naejot zirȳla tistālion," she told Loyal Spear. (T: Take her back to her room.)
"Kostagon jikagon ondoso nykēla," said Saera. "Daorys kessa ossēnagon nyke." (T: I can go by myself. No one will kill me.)
She made it all the way to her room without anyone attempting to hurt her. Her sister would not seek her advice anymore.
She had let Hizdahr zo Loraq out of his prison cell three days later, once Grey Worm awoke, letting him know she'd be reopening the fighting pits. She would not make the adjustments that Saera had suggested and would instead have the pits function as the people intended them to, in the hopes this would let all conflict die down.
She'd taken it a step further.
"Marriage?" spluttered Saera. "You wish to form a bond with the Meereenese through marriage? Why not just give them everything they want?"
"This will last longer," said Daenerys calmly. "I need Meereen to back me when my enemies come. I need this city to have a lasting peace. Marriage is the most reasonable option."
"And who, pray tell, do you intend to marry?"
"It is not who I will marry," said Daenerys quietly.
Saera's face dropped. "You cannot be serious."
"You will marry Hizdahr zo Loraq to establish an alliance with Meereen," said Daenerys. "You will play your role as Princess of Dragonstone. You will bring us an advantage, and we will fix everything."
Her jaw was tight, knowing Daenerys never would have suggested something like this if Ser Jorah and Ser Barristan were here.
It was just them now. Them, Daario, Missandei, and Grey Worm. All three of whom would support Daenerys over Saera.
(She had a feeling Daario had talked her into the marriage pact. Either because Daenerys wanted to do it herself and he convinced her to use Saera instead, or because he thought it was a good way to get close to who he apparently suspected was the leader of the Sons of the Harpy.)
His suspicions might have been correct; shortly after Saera and Hizdahr's betrothal was announced, the killings stopped. Saera believed that was simply a correlation; they had promised to reopen the fighting pits alongside the marriage announcement. Hizdahr didn't strike her as that kind of man.
She wasn't sure what kind of man he was.
"I know this is not what you wished for," said Hizdahr, standing with her on the pavilion where she usually trained with Black Fist and Kavarro. "I could never think myself worthy to... wed a Princess."
She smiled politely, knowing this was not his choice, either. Daenerys had decided it as a means to drag him out of his cell in the catacombs. She made the marriage happen without either party's consent. "Did you imagine yourself being wed to anyone? You are still quite young."
"Nearly the same age as you, actually, Princess," said Hizdahr. "I admit, I never thought marriage was for me. In all honesty, before my father passed, I wished to one day explore areas outside of Meereen. That is not easy when one is married and has responsibilities."
"Indeed," said Saera. "Our marriage is purely political. Know that when we are wed, I will not stop you from traveling if it is what you wish."
He was silent. "Do you wish for children, Princess?"
"I always considered it an option," she said. "But that would have been with a husband of my choice. I will perform whatever duty is expected–"
"No," he said. "That is precisely what I meant to speak against once I heard your response... I do not want either of us to feel that we must do any duty for one another. If in the distant future we find we have grown fond of one another and wish to have children, we may decide it then. I would not enjoy a marriage where we lay together as a requirement. We should want to, if we ever do."
"This brings me great relief," said Saera, more relaxed. "I agree... should circumstances change and we become affectionate, our minds may drift back to this conversation. It has happened in many arranged marriages. But until then... let's not do more than what we're required. We need to be married. There is nothing in our Queen's order about producing children."
He laughed lightly, "In fact, I believe she'd be against it."
"Why do you say that?"
"Forgive me for stating the obvious, Princess, but your sister is incredibly jealous of you. She disregards your opinions for that reason, not because they are wrong. Producing children means more Targaryens who will threaten her rule."
She gulped. "That... may be so. I wish to believe it wouldn't be, but..."
"You can always speak freely with me, Princess," said Hizdahr. "Please know this. Besides, I have seen for myself how she dismisses every idea you have. Some of them are rather good. If Meereen had to be ruled by a foreigner..." he hesitated, "Let us simply say that if you say the throne, the Sons of the Harpy would likely not have risen in the way they have. You would have given them what they asked for from the first. You would not have killed Mossador publicly, or at all. The dragons would not be locked away."
"Perhaps," said Saera. "But I do not sit the throne."
"And a shame that is," he whispered. He reached into his pocket, offering two knives with bright green and blue hilts, the symbol of Meereen carved in gold and lining the edge of the blade. "Please, accept this gift. I have seen you carry two knives at your belt and it would bring our city great pride if you carried this token with you."
She smiled, unsheathing her knives and replacing them. "Thank you. These knives..." she ran her thumb over the Dornish leather hilt of hers, "well, they're nothing special, I admit..."
"I would be honored," he said, accepting them when he realized what she was implying. "Thank you, Princess."
"Please, call me Saera." Her own smile faded, wondering where Ser Jorah was. What he knew about the happenings of Meereen, when he would come back. If.
In an effort to respect the Meereenese traditions at long last, Daenerys agreed to tour one of the outlying fighting pits with Saera and Hizdahr. Some men, gathered from all over Essos, would fight for the honor of playing in front of her at the Great Games at the Great Pit of Daznak.
"Sitting through the great games will be hard enough," said Daenerys, following Hizdahr to their seats.
Hizdahr explained, "For generations, in the days leading up to the great games, it has been customary for our ruler to make the rounds of the lower pits to pay the fighters there the honor of their presence."
He sat between Daenerys and Saera, both of whom were tense and not looking at each other. Behind them were more of the Meereenese masters, as well as Unsullied and Dothraki guards. As the fighters were led out, the man who ran the pits sprinted toward them, bowing in front of Daenerys. "Your Grace, you honor us all." He began to circle the fighters, having them all stand straight and make the best impression for their queen.
Daenerys was already bored as the man called, "We fight and die for your glory, oh glorious queen."
The man clapped, and the fighters chorused, "We fight and die for your glory, oh glorious queen."
The fighting began, the men pairing up and taking out their opponents, killing them as viciously as they could to impress Daenerys. Saera didn't react, but her younger sister was cringing very obviously, turning away and grimacing as the Meereenese spectators cheered.
"I think I've seen enough," said Daenerys hotly, standing and trying to leave.
"Your Grace," said Hizdahr, "it is a tradition for the queen to stay until the victor has emerged."
"I've sacrificed more than enough for your traditions," said Daenerys angrily.
Another man walked out of the gates, joining in the fight and beginning to kill the other men who were winning their individual battles. He was slaughtering everyone who got in their way. Saera sat up with interest, wondering why he and not the others was wearing a helm. Even Daenerys was impressed. There was a certain familiarity about it that Saera couldn't understand.
And then, he approached the stage, removing his helm and revealing it was Ser Jorah.
"Jorah," said Saera immediately, springing to her feet.
Before she could approach, Daenerys snapped, "Get him out of my sight."
"Khaleesi, please!" he begged as he was seized. "I just need a moment of your time! I brought you a gift!"
"It's true!" came another voice. A tiny man walked over to them, "He has."
"Who are you?" asked Daenerys.
Saera burst out, "Tyrion Lannister. I haven't– I haven't seen you in years."
"You know him?" asked Daenerys.
"He's only a year older than me and I was expected to marry his brother. We met several times when we were children, we played together."
"I remember it fondly, Princess Saera," said Tyrion. "You were never cruel to me. And now I am here, a gift for your sister. It's a pleasure to meet you, Your Grace."
"Take them both to the cells in the catacombs," said Daenerys to the Unsullied and Dothraki. "We will question them tomorrow."
"Khaleesi!" called Ser Jorah as she walked away. "Khaleesi, please!"
Saera leapt off the stage, throwing her arms around him. "You're here," she said, drawing away. "You're safe–"
"I promised I would come back," he said weakly, holding her shoulders.
"Saera," said Hizdahr behind him. "We ought to go."
Ser Jorah seemed to know that something was going on between them. Though Saera had worn a red dress, she always kept her weapons on her, the gold-green-blue hilts of her new knives shone in the light and caught his attention, so different than the hilts that normally blended in with whatever outfit she wore.
"I will come and find you," she promised as he was pulled away from her. "I will find you..."
Daenerys wasn't about to let that happen.
"You will not go to the catacombs," she told Saera as soon as they returned to the palace. "You will remain in your room and you will be present tomorrow at the audience to guard, not to counsel. I will speak with Ser Jorah and this... Tyrion Lannister– if you are so sure he is the man you remember."
"He is," said Saera. "He's not like the others. I've heard... questionable things from his adulthood, but he is not Tywin or Cersei. He was a kind boy and we ought to hear what he has to say."
Daenerys nodded. "That is all. You may go."
"That's it? There is nothing you wish to discuss about Ser Jorah returning? Daenerys, I know he has committed great wrongs but he has returned, I believe it a sign that he is now loyal. We can put this loyalty to the test, we can find a way to make him earn his stay if that's what you wish–"
"I said that was all," said Daenerys. "I did not ask what you thought of the matter."
Saera clenched her jaw. "Very well, Your Grace. As you wish."
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A/N: Happy 100 pages! Comment for more :)