agoodyarn | a knight comes to serve a queen

[ A wandering knight in Essos? Not so strange, seeing as most have their own lords and houses they're already sworn to in Westeros. Those who travel east seem to be either banished or searching for more. Of what? Purpose, perhaps. Or maybe for the Dragon Queen who swears to break the wheel. It should mean something that honor is sought beyond one's country. That a knight is forced to look past the current king (or queen) of the Seven Kingdoms.

All the better for her. That this warrior bests her Unsullied tugs a frown to her lips; that he bests even her Dothraki bloodriders? Well, that certainly has her attention. She's not holding court, but makes the exception to this. To him.

It's not Jorah, for he's already left to find a cure for greyscale. Who else would wish to swear himself to her? ]

You've won my attention, ser. Well met. [ She sits atop the dais, robed in black, her silver hair half pulled back. ] It's not often a knight chooses to spar with an Unsullied. Even rarer he would choose a Dothrak for an opponent.

You're from Westeros?

[ He bows his head and takes a moment to look her up and down. He doesn't seem to be taking in her appearance; instead, he's taking in the way she's sitting, the way she's looking at him, whether she looks to her advisors or her assistants and how, exactly, she looks at him. He kneels and bows his head to her again before looking up to answer. ]

The Unsullied are some of the greatest warriors in the world. As are the Dothraki. If I was to make sure that I was worth an audience, I knew I would have to prove such. I did all I could to ensure that your men were unharmed by the proving.

[ But he does nod to the question. ]

I was raised in the Reach, milady. By farmers, in truth. [ He rubs at the back of his neck. ] I've won my armor through a series of contests, and I'm afraid it gives an impression that I'm of a higher station than I am.

You do them both honor by saying so. [ And she, as well. They are her men, her people. A twist to her lips, the next part hovering just near a tease. ] Most would require far less to obtain an audience, ser. You've my gratitude for keeping my warriors intact.

[ She sits straight, one hand resting on her lap, the other pressed palm down on the stone seat. It's a relaxed pose, for all that she maintains the air of formality about her. There's a pleasantness to her gaze, the smile on her lips, but there is distance, as well--a fluid dichotomy which suggests that she is open to his words, but that she will maintain her station.

To her right stands Tyrion, arms held behind his back. To her left is Missandei. The only time she breaks eye contact with him is when confirmation of his place in Westeros is made, and then, she's glancing to Tyrion from the corners of her eyes. He meets her gaze. Says nothing. ]

Loyal to House Tyrell, then? You've my condolences about the young queen, her father, and brother. [ A slight bowing of the head. ] Humble beginnings are just as important as higher ones. And all the more impressive, I think.

You've come a long way to swear fealty to me. Why?

They've done me and mine no harm, and so deserve no harm in return. A man who makes others pay for his needs when only a little effort could prevent it is not the sort of man I wish to be.

[ He comes to his feet again, offering a bow as he does before straightening. ]

In truth, milady, House Tyrell had always taken good care of me and mine. When everything happened, I... a part of me wished to act, to defend my home and my people from all that had come for them. But I realized that the situation was too dire to salvage without causing more harm than good. And it is ever my aim to do more good than harm.

[ He gestures towards her. ]

That is why I've come before you, milady. All that I have heard from you, of you... you put the greater good of all people before profit, before tradition, before power or glory. You are no more perfect than any ruler, true, but your intent is always to act with dignity and respect towards all life.

These are principles which I follow as well.

So I would put my abilities to your direction. I would trust your judgment as sovereign, work that your influence may spread across the realms.

[ He lifts his head a little. ]

I would ask no honor than to serve beneath you, if you will have me.

Edited 2018-06-30 01:10 (UTC)

[ So formal, but also respectful as well. She finds those words pretty and perfect and would doubt them instantly; however, he's worked ahead of that doubt by proving his point prior to stepping into the hall. Smart. ]

Aligning with Cersei Lannister would only cause more harm, you're correct. It's why the surviving matriarch of house Tyrell speaks with one of my emissaries.

[ If Varys could be considered one. She links her fingers together on her lap, tilting her head. He's traveled far to join her cause, that's certainly the case. Rather curious, as well, that he would deal with the journey. Though it's not as if all those loyal to the Tyrells could know of this alliance so soon.

Something softens to her look, in her eyes, as she gazes upon him. His earnestness seems genuine, and in some ways, it reminds her of ser Barristan. That trust, that belief that there was more.

How could she possibly deny him? ]

I believe a name is in order, before you swear yourself to me, ser. You'll find yourself happily accepted here, your sword and your skills will be put to good use, the same as your knowledge of our homeland.

[ She presses up to her feet, stepping down from the dais with measured steps. Closer to him. ]

I can only hope to maintain your view of me, but we'll be going to war, and my dragons will be proffering their aid.

[ A warning? So rare she offers them. ]

[ He stays where he is, though he bows his head a little as she approaches him. He considers his words carefully, once again. ]

My name is Clark, milady. Clark Kent. Named for my mother's father's family. I hold no title other than her son, and whatever you would choose to call me.

[ He looks up at her last comment, but there's steel in his eyes. He knows why he's here.]

I know of your dragons. I've heard them in the skies, heard them at their work. And I am no fool to join an army and believe there will be no blood shed.

I make no pretense that I will always do what I can to spare the lives of others. But I know that the world you wish to make, the wheel you wish to break, will not go quietly nor without bloodshed. I wish it weren't so, but I am not so blind.

If I thought you reveled in it, I would not be here. I came to you because you will kill when necessary. But only when necessary.

Edited 2018-07-02 02:13 (UTC)

[ She listens, and she nods, and she thinks that this is entirely acceptable. Not replacing one knight with another, for she would always miss Jorah. But it would do her well to be surrounded by all those she wishes to rule, not just merely Essosi. All the better to have someone with a similar vision to her own.

This much closer to him, she can see that her eyes haven't tricked her into believing he's handsome. His features are sharp and strong, but he's neither messy nor unkempt, even in the hot clime of Meereen. ]

We can't make that promise. [ Much as she wishes it were possible--no, that's not true. She would not tolerate those who embraced their old ways, those who would harm any of her people. ] But we can try to control the losses both sides do face. Or, at the very least, ours.

[ A pause, and she's glancing back over her shoulder. Missandei steps forward. ]

Are you tired from your battles and journey? You'll have to excuse the disarray of the pyramid and the city. The Great Masters saw it fit to question my rule here, but the Bay of Dragons now is stronger because of it.

There is no promise to make. [ It's a reassurance. He will not put her up on a pedestal that she cannot help but fall off of. He speaks only of her intent. The world is too complicated, too averse to change, for anything else.] You do as much as is possible. Asking more is unfair to any ruler, but especially one attempting so great a change.

[ He bows to her again, as he considers this the moment when he has fully accepted her leadership and, hopefully, when she has accepted his service. When she mentions rest and nourishment, he shakes his head. Following that, he bows it to Missandei in thanks for whatever assistance she might have offered.]

But I am well, my Queen. If there is work you need me do, only set me to my task and I will get started. [ His smile is just a touch playful as he tilts his head as if to gesture at the city.] As you say, there are certainly tasks at hand.

[ And unrealistic expectations of her. At least he'll expect battle and war--she would hate for him to join her ranks disillusioned. More than that is the relief that he admits to not being the sort who blames a ruler for everything.

There's the hint of an answering smile, and she lightly ducks her head forward to mask that amusement, hands falling to rest atop one another in front of her. He's certainly charming in his own way, and his intentions seem genuine and good. Likely her advisors will have things to say; Daario's expression alone will likely be one of displeasure, never mind his words. Tyrion, however, gave no indication that Clark would be problematic. That's progress. ]

My Unsullied are the ones proffering aid in this. Grey Worm is my general. [ She gestures to the man, who dons his gears, but no helmet. His arms are currently behind his back in an unwavering stance. ] He can show you what our men are focusing on currently.

[ A thoughtful pause, where she considers both of them. ]

Pick each other's minds. You're both a wealth of information.

[ Clark nods easily enough and turns to Grey Worm, bowing his head low. ]

Sir. If I can be of service.

[ He offers one last bow of his head to Dany before his attention is on Grey Worm, as he was told. Then he's walking over to follow the man to do as he has been asked. Despite having talked in the Common tongue a moment ago, reasonable enough, she might hear him test a couple of dialects of Low Valyrian, then High Valyrian, and finally settle on one that Grey Worm seems most comfortable with. He treats the other man with respect, warmly, as a comrade, and seems content to listen and learn even as he provides information he has, much as his queen had ordered. ]

[ A few weeks have passed since the fighter from the Reach had come to her service. And it's been a very interesting few weeks.

Grey Worm has been pleased with his service, finding him respectful and helpful and always willing to serve. He seems to have boundless energy, so he's observed, and while no man is liked by all, he gets along with anyone willing to give him a chance and has little pride when it comes to doing his duty, other than upholding the name and reputation of his Queen. And he has certainly done that, with the Gods' own luck, it seems. Every mission he goes on, whether he accomplishes something or one of the others, just seems to go... just right. A canyon gets blocked or a river changes course or... coincidence likes him.

While it's a smaller thing, perhaps, none of the servants and women workers have found him anything other than polite and respectful, down to the last scullery maid, and he's even helped a time or two while a cook fell ill for the evening with the meal preparation. His mother, he said, taught him to cook when he was a boy and expected him to be able to perform household duties should his wife fall ill or need his help. Despite this gaining him a few admirers, he has shown interest in none, acting as friendly to the women as to the men.

Despite this oddity, there is no concern for his manhood on the battlefield. To that day, no man had managed to best him in combat (not even Daario or any of his men much to their chagrin) and he regularly trains with three or four attacking him instead of the usual one on one as it was deemed 'unfair' otherwise, a fact which he somewhat sheepishly agreed to.

He is training now, two of the Unsullied and a mercenary teaming up against him, his form a blur as he dodges and parries, an elbow, a fist, and a swooping kick ending with all three on their backs and Clark with a bright smile at all of them. He nods his head to each of them respectfully, thanking them for the bout before reaching out to pull them up one after another. When the mercenary attempts to yank him down off his balance, to yet win the fight, he doesn't move even an inch. But the look he gives the man seems to melt the dagger right from his hand. It's softened a moment later by a crooked, lopsided smile before he finally does help him up.]

[ He's quite the man. Days bleed together until weeks have passed--and it still seems like only yesterday that Clark bent the knee to her. Dany may not be vocal about her appreciation at all times, she might not even act like she notices each and every thing, but she's not blind. He makes friends where there are friends to be made (and rivals in the place of enemies, in the case of Daario). A rather curious thing, that.

What sort of man earns so very much respect whilst still maintaining such modesty? He's a conundrum to her. Powerful, yet not prideful. Friendly and amicable, so very respectful to all those around him. He's not quite earned himself a seat upon her council, but she thinks he would fit well and thrive in that setting. She's half a mind to appoint him a position anyway, just to see how he fares.

It's rather strange that a wave of good fortune follows them each and every way they turn. Repairs to the city are swift; even swifter are Varys' little updates. Dorne. The Tyrells. The Ironborn remain in Meereen, enjoying the respite before they set sail... and they will set sail sooner, rather than later.

One of the reasons why she's ventured from the pyramid and onto the training grounds. Her dragons circle the city overhead. Their boredom shoots through her like a spark of electricity, and she spares their bellies a fond glance before venturing further through the dusty space. Unsullied and the Second Sons train, flanked by the Dothraki. A strange combination to be sure, but even stranger with Clark in their midst. ]

Still besting my warriors, I see, [ she says, having caught that last little exchange. Gone are the white gowns, replaced by black fabric, loose and airy. ] I'm glad to see the heat hasn't killed your spirit.

[ The mercenary comes to his feet without too much grumbling after Clark softens up and he pats the man on the arm before stepping away from him, turning on his heel, and offering a low bow of his head.]

Impossible, my queen. As I am lucky enough to count myself among your warriors.

[ He tilts his head to one side and she is offered a warm, easy smile. ]

Though I admit that I am luckier than most. The heat only seems to make me less tired, not more.

Quite the boon for a farmer's son in the reach, less so for a blacksmith's apprentice. But helpful again for serving here, it seems.

[ He gives her another bow, and he takes a single step towards her so that he can speak a little more quietly. He still keeps his distance, out of respect, but he looks to her curiously. ]

Is there something I can do for you, my queen?

[ It's a smile she easily returns. They come fairly more frequently in this setting, with familiarity between them bridging some of the distance. She's not here under the formality of his queen, and so Dany finds it easier to maintain some semblance of amicability. ]

Mn, yes, you've outdone yourself with winning their favor. Grey Worm's impressed with you. [ And she, by extension, is as well. ] Less tired? Really? The humid air doesn't drain you?

[ She folds her hands in front of her, tilting her head in a gesture for him to fall into step with her. ]

Walk with me. [ Only when they fall into step and the men around them return to their spars, does she speak. ] I'm afraid your adjustment to this land won't last much longer. We're in the final steps of preparing to sail for Westeros.

[ He starts for a moment to offer his arm to her, like he would have any lady he was to walk with back in the Reach. But he pauses for a moment before, bowing his head again, he offers it with a bit more firmness. If she'd like. Regardless, he'll walk beside her.]

I've noticed the preparations. They're a bit hard to miss, after all.

[ He looks to her.]

Is there something specific you'd like me to do, my queen?

[ He doesn't answer the question of whether the air drains him, mostly because there's not much to answer. And he's still... unsure how to address his own strangeness when it comes to her service.]

Edited 2018-07-13 00:58 (UTC)

[ The offer earns him a smile--faint, at first, and then a little firmer--but she shakes her head. She's not like the ladies of Westeros; attaching herself to someone's arm has never been her way, but it's still a sweet offer. ]

Mn, a great many ships.

[ She's looking ahead, listening to him, the activity around them, and the distant flap of wings overhead. There's a certain calm to her, a peacefulness she's not felt in some time. ]

I can't leave Meereen without someone to guide it. Not to rule--the people here deserve to choose their own ruler.

[ It's not an easy thing, to choose someone she trusts that she'll leave here. She looks to him, a slight tilt to her head to see him properly. ]

You've been around these men long enough. I would hear your opinion on who you think would be a proper guide.

[ He nods in understanding at her refusal; the offer, and then reoffer, had been because he'd done so automatically at first. Then, as a deliberate choice. If she was to make a decision on the matter, he thought it should be due to something he'd chosen to do and not something automatic. All the same, he winces at the question. ]

Your question... will require a great many more truths than I can admit to easily, my queen. But I suppose I did not come to your service for an easy life.

[ He looks to her and there is a strange mix of emotions, pain and love and fear all swirling around behind the blue. But through it all, he remains earnest. There is little to make one doubt that he means every word. ]

I believe the best option to be Daario. He is one of the only of your advisors who is both trusted by you and a known leader of diverse men. He understands them and knows how to move them as he needs to.

Not only that, but he will be of the least help to you in Westeros. This is his land, his place of power.

[ He swallows hard and lets his head drop a little. ]

And yet, to say so and to pretend that this is all merely logic and sound reasoning would be to lie to you, something I swore I would not do when I bent the knee to you. To entrust with you my hopes and dreams for the future, I took on your trust in return.

[ He breathes in deeply. ]

So I will say as such: I know he has romantic feelings for you, as does any man with eyes. I share such feelings, and admit that I cannot imagine how someone might not feel that way having come to know you in any sense.

[ He tilts his head to one side. ]

All the same, I would never presume to take action or desire response of such feelings. For one, I know that you intend to use your marriage in the games of power to come once you have crossed the sea. In the work you plan, titles and holdings and an army are worth more than any one man's sword arm, no matter how skilled it might be.

[ He does not meet her eyes as he comes to the last. ]

For another, there are truths about myself which I have not shared, and until I do, it would be wrong to even dream of such things, let alone state intentions or desires. Which is why this is the only time I will speak of this to you: because I cannot offer my judgement on Daario fairly without admitting to them.

[ He bows low to her, and slowly lowers to his knee. ]

I hope you can forgive me any burden or discomfort I might have given you with my answer, my queen.

Edited 2018-07-13 21:52 (UTC)

[ Daario having 'romantic feelings' might've made her laugh--had Clark not continued with that admission. Romance might've been one thing, and Daario played it well enough to charm her, however, there's hardly any love involved in their dalliances. An openness to speak, affection, bringing one another pleasure... having a lover is far different than being in love.

But... what's this about Clark--she swallows thickly, past the sudden lump in her throat. He's caught her off guard and the surprise in her eyes is vivid. Not easily hidden. Not when she's looking at him, at least. And she is looking at him, having come to an abrupt stop to study him carefully, eyes flicking over his features.

The silence stretches a beat too long after his apology and him lowering to a knee. The entirety of what he's said has accomplished what has otherwise been deemed impossible: speechlessness. Soon, she's placing her hand on his shoulder, palm flat, ignoring the heat pressed against that one point of contact. ]

It's hardly any burden or a discomfort when I asked you for that opinion. [ A lighter squeeze. ] And you've hardly any reason to bow and kneel for giving me that honest opinion. It's what's expected of advisors, is it not?

[ Clark's wrong, of course. About Daario and his feelings. Dany has a much better idea of it all, but that's more to do about Clark's own feelings than it does with any lack of ability to observe. After all, when he looks to her like the sun in his sky, it's not because he's thinking of how she might look without her dresses. He's thinking of simpler, sweeter things like walking with her hand in hand, holding her in his arms to give her peace and warmth, kissing her awake in the morning to start her day with a smile. He thinks of her children, of getting to know them beside her, He's a romantic, down to the bone.

When she touches him, he looks up. And when she gives him the squeeze, he nods back to her words before slowly coming to his feet, dusting off his knees. Then he's looking at her, sheepish and a little unsure of how to continue. He certainly hadn't meant to ever tell her, well... any of it. But when she'd asked, he'd felt the need for complete earnestness. He couldn't dream of giving her such thoughts without full disclosure. And then more had pulled itself out of him and there they were.

But-]

I'm an advisor, my queen?

[ He's worked with Grey Worm, with some of the servants, with the fighting force. He's been given point on some of his operations because of his ability but he'd never exactly- he wasn't aware that-]

[ It's different, this... thing. Not like Jorah's claim of loving her, or Drogo's claim of her. She doesn't think of Daario as she looks into Clark's eyes, her hand falling away from his shoulder when he stands once more. It's hard to make much of anything, truth be told, when feelings muddy up from down. She's not madly in love, but that admission fans the flicker of a flame insider her into something stronger.

Something she doesn't know what to do with. He's a good man and she--

She clears her throat, smoothing her hands down the front of her dress, banishing invisible wrinkles. ]

Do you not wish to be one?

[ He can't help a faint smile at that clearing of her throat, but only a faint one. A shared moment of... well, of the both of them feeling a little out of sorts. But he shakes his head.

No, he certainly wishes to be one. Just-]

I am honoured by such a title. And I will do everything in my power to be worthy of it.

And of course I am honoured by having your ear, such high esteem in your eyes as to be worthy of my thoughts. But I suppose I'm not sure what I may have done to earn such a thing. Other than...

Well, hit people exceptionally well. Which is not necessarily any indication of my judgement.

[ He scratches his ear. ]

How may I... advise you, my queen?

Exceptionally well? My, my, I must be wrong about you. Here I thought you were a modest man.

[ She raises her brows at him, amusement in her gaze as she begins walking once again. It's a valid question and concern, and though it does seem sudden, was this not the way of her obtaining all her advisors? ]

Trust is a precious and delicate thing. It must be earned, as well as protected. But it's not of the singular.

[ She leads them from the training grounds, toward the pyramid and the path leading to the city. The change isn't sudden and abrupt, but a steady thing from dust and dirt to some plant life, until finally they're walking amidst a small garden lining the pathway into the pyramid. ]

You've proven yourself far more helpful than most in the short time you've been with us. You understand Westeros, and I believe you've an intimate knowledge of the smallfolk that my men from Westeros lack. More than that, your thoughts of Daario align with my own in terms of the political climate in this place, and his usefulness across the sea.

Edited 2018-07-15 00:44 (UTC)

[ He chuckles a little at her teasing though he doesn't say anything as she speaks, simply listening as they walk. When she seems to be done, he nods to her words and considers what he wants to say. ]

Then keep in mind that the people you speak of aren't small, my queen. They only seem so from so far up. There are wise and thoughtful men and women to be found at all levels of society. Unfortunately, only some of them tend to be heard.

[ The words aren't harsh or angry, simple... matter-of-fact. She'd asked for what wisdom he might provide her and if that's the case, he's going to give it to her.]

I would be happy to act as an envoy to them, as we reach Westeros. You would be surprised by the secrets and useful knowledge that they might possess of each region and its leadership, troop movements, and potentially useful locations for battles and ambushes.

You're hardly small. [ It feels as if he towers over her, really. His point isn't lost, even with her lighter comment. ] I don't mean to belittle them. I've lived amongst a good number, ser, and have experienced similar enough troubles as a girl.

[ Nevertheless, his words are true, and she knows just how difficult a voice can be heard amidst the crowds. She's about to tell him as much, even thank him for his offer of help when a shout in the distance breaks her thoughts.

Her steps slow. More shouts, hinting to a sort of chaos not unlike that which befell the city weeks ago. Brows furrowing, she spares him a glance and then hitches her skirts to dart off toward the noise. ]

I know you don't mean to. That's why-

[ But he hears the clamor as well, and as she starts to run, he keeps a pace alongside her. He wants to run forward, but his first priority is to protect her and he can't do that from leagues ahead of her. His eyes are focused ahead, though, looking for the danger, looking for the cause of the upheaval. ]

[ They'll find it soon enough: one of the buildings which took a hit from the slaver's catapult weeks ago, collapsing. Further out near the outskirts of the city, it's only recently that forces began clearing the wreckage. And that wreckage seems to be what supported the skeleton of the building. With most of it removed, there's little left to keep the building upright.

Something a group of people are learning the hard way. ]

There's too many people gathered around it.

[ They couldn't help if they were blocked off. ]

[ The thing of it is that Clark doesn't have to worry about too many people, can't be blocked off. He looks at the crowd, at the building... he tries to consider how it might fall, the kind of damage it might do.

Most importantly, he considers whether or not this might destroy everything he's been building, if his position with Daenerys will be lost.

No, that isn't the most important. He knows it isn't. It can't be.

The people here, the innocents of this city, the troops. Those are the most important, have to be the most important. That's why he leaps, higher than any man has a right to, over the crowds, almost to the building itself. Then he's looking, seeing where the pressure point that's failing is, and heads for it immediately, putting his body in place of a ruined wall. One hand holds part, the other the opposite side, and the noise and movement stops as the walls and stonework are no longer falling down. ]

Get everyone out, everyone away! I can... I can hold it until everyone's clear!

[ And in the meantime, pray that they don't ask him to leave once all is done. ]

Edited 2018-07-23 01:21 (UTC)

[ She's flown and has seen firsthand the joys of the ground growing more and more distant with each flap of Drogon's wings. She's witnessed and has actively participated in things that should not be possible. And yet...

And yet she's left staring when Clark vaults into the air, seemingly hovering in place. What should have been impossible only seems to become even more impossible as he--is he flying? Oh gods, he is.

She's lifting her skirts and chasing the path on a much less direct route than his. Past those who see her and rush to move out of her way. The whites of her skirts and dress soon become streaked with dirt as she helps those in need of it. Soon most are gone, a child in her arms as she stumbles over debris and spins in place, staring at the building Clark held up with widened eyes. ]

Clark! Get out of there!

[ He watches as people run, and he wishes that this particular burden didn't feel so slippery, as if no matter what he does, his strength will not be enough to hold the building because there just isn't enough structure for it to hold. It's not all that heavy, at least not by his reckoning, and he notes it with the sort of gallow's humor that also has him wondering where he'll go to next that he must have gotten stronger since the last time such a feat was asked of him as it's less trouble than he might have thought.

But once everyone is gone and the area is clear, he hears his queen call to him, command him to move. He's not satisfied at her distance, however, especially with the child in her arms. That is why he turns to her and shakes his head.]

I will be fine, my queen. Go a little further and brace yourself and I promise to extract myself. The building will not hold once I have.

Edited 2018-07-30 01:08 (UTC)

[ He'll be fine? He certainly doesn't look fine from her vantage, seeing as he's the only thing holding up the remains of a building. Her displeasure is clear and sharp, manifesting in a darkened look, frown and all. He shouldn't be endangering himself this way!

With a sharp huff, she hoists the child in her arms and heeds his words, quick to climb over debris and allow that distance to grow between them. Each step is like its own little torture, and it's not once, not twice, but three times she's looking back. It impedes her progress, but soon it doesn't matter because she's joining the first group of bystanders.

A mother is rushing forward, tearful, and the child is soon deposited in her arms. Dany's smile is tight, and she's turning back to look for Clark, frowning all over again. ]

[ Clark waits until she's at the threshold of safety, waits until she's turned. If he didn't, she would be terrified of what she hadn't seen. Even now, he thinks, that would be worse than what she will. Once he's met her eyes, he steps out from directly underneath the building and then it is a somewhat complex manuever as he darts away not for his own safety but to ensure the others. After all, he must make sure that none of the debris flies out and harms anyone, moving at a blur of speed before finally landing not far from his queen and dropping the pieces of wood and stone and clay that had once been people's homes.

He is, as he had assured her, perfectly all right. Some of his armor has been rent, and a piece hangs loose where it was ripped apart by a piece he couldn't catch with his hands, but the skin beneath is dirty but otherwise unblemished. The whole of the thing has transpired with not a single extra injury beyond the initial collapse; he wishes he had work to do immediately, to dig beneath and find those buried still alive, but his ears tell him it would be a waste at the moment. He will dig them out, if he is allowed, but it will only be for graves.

He comforts himself that it will be far fewer because of all he may have sacrificed.

Because now comes the moment he truly fears. Now, he faces his queen: dirty, disheveled, and revealed to be inhuman. He swallows, bows his head, then chooses instead to drop to his knees once more.]

Please do not send me away, my Queen. I swear, whatever I am, whatever the gods made me, I truly wish only to stand at your side.

[ They're both dirty and disheveled. That's not her concern at the moment when he lowers to his knees. All around them, there's the echo of chaos: the buzz of the crowd at her back, moaning, groaning, crying. But those closest--they're silent. She doesn't see them, but she can feel their eyes. Do they regard Clark in the same way her people did her as she walked from the flames?

What would they call him? Unbreakable.

When she steps closer, she's all too aware of the roar in her ears, like a drumming song. It doesn't stop her from placing both hands on his shoulders, touch light. She doesn't fall to her knees, but she does lean closer. ]

This isn't the place, [ she quietly murmurs, ] Can you take us somewhere private?

[ He nods and starts to rise to his feet, if only to gather her up properly without discomfort. He taps his temple.]

Close your eyes. For safety, my queen.

[ And then the world will blur before they find themselves at the balcony nearest her bedchambers. He can't help that he knows where it is. She is the most important person in the world to him. Of course a portion of him has been keeping track of where she is, where the gentle rhythm of her breathes settles into sleep.

As they land, he doesn't return to his knees. But he does look at her with obvious trepidation.]

Is this suitable, my queen?

[ Being lifted is, in and of itself, rather strange. So rarely it happens that she takes note for the few times it does. The positioning brings them closer, has her gripping his shoulders, looking at him before she's closing her eyes.

There's the brush of the wind combing through her hair and kissing her cheeks. It's smoother than riding on Drogon's back. She doesn't cling to him tightly, as she might Drogon while he maneuvered throughout the skies; Clark's hands hold her steadily, and she knows he won't drop her.

When they land, her feet on solid ground and him asking her a question, she opens her eyes.

And double-takes when she realizes where they are. ]

You saved me a trip, [ she says, half laughing, as she brushes past him to lean against the balcony overlooking the city. ] You flew us all the way up here. That's amazing!

When I travel alone, I usually fly. The flight from my home in the Reach is only a few minutes this way.

[ He stays where he is, nearer to the door inside, and tucks his arms behind himself as he watches her go to the balcony. He isn't sure what she's thinking, what she's feeling, or how the rest of the city is going to respond to him now. He doesn't regret it but he can't help that he's nervous.]

Every few nights, I return to visit with my parents. They aren't getting any younger, after all.

[ That has her turning to look at him, surprise too sharp to hide. ]

You--you fly across the Narrow Sea?

[ He nods, quick and easy. Now that he's been revealed, he won't keep anything from her.]

There aren't many corners of the world I haven't been to, my Queen. I've flown to many places.

Old Valyria? Even the Shadowlands?

[ She'd traveled to none of these places... and here she was, thinking she was well traveled, whilst Clark.... ]

Which was your favorite?

[ He nods to both, because when he was younger, when his freedom felt like a license to go anywhere, see anything, he'd gone all manner of places. Since he'd grown up a little, he'd been more purposeful. And more careful.]

When I want to be with others, I prefer to be here or at home, in truth. When I wish to be alone...

[ He considers whether he should admit this, but finally, he breathes in a little and tips his head.]

There's a palace far beyond the wall, made of crystal and ice that might as well be. Sometimes, the walls speak to me in a language unlike anything I've ever heard anywhere else. I don't go there often, but it has always helped me when I do, provided guidance when I needed it.

[ After he's said it, he pauses and looks back at her. He can't help a wry smile.]

I've never told anyone about that place, beyond my own kin. But I suppose, as before, my heart often wishes to be open with you. And now, I have little reason not to be.

[ He didn't need a dragon to see so very much. All he needed was himself to witness the wonders of which he speaks. Her focus is rapt, gaze almost greedy as he describes a palace none like she's ever heard. Beyond the Wall there was nothing, wasn't there? But he--

Her look softens. It's nothing too jarring, but frown lines smooth away, and her eyes are gentle. Being drawn to him had always been something she's struggled with, because she doesn't know what has her gaze lingering when she thinks none are watching. And she doesn't know why his kindness brings a smile when Grey Worm or Missandei give her updates of the work her armies have done prior to their departure.

It's not love--she's no room for that... for anyone, lest it's for her children. Affection feels as if she's cheapening what does draw her to him. ]

You've hidden this for weeks, [ she softly says. The toll it must've taken. ] For good reason, I imagine. But you ignored all reason to protect those in this city. You've--all the things that occurred whilst we restored Meereen after the attack. Was that you, as well?

[ The nod is halting, awkward; he doesn't want whatever it might earn him, be it credit or fear or disdain. He'd done it because it needed doing. Because his secret shouldn't cost other men their lives or halt the progress of all that his queen wished to bring to the world. ]

I have hidden this my whole life, my queen. But you're not wrong, to think it hardest to keep to myself these last few weeks.

Such a cause as yours, to serve it with every skill at my command... that is a great temptation.

[ He presses his lips together, unsure of how to say what he means without it seeming... cold. But he decides bluntness is perhaps for the best. ]

And I had to be sure that I ought to give you such a tool. It is one thing to hear as I have heard, and another to be under your command.

[ He ducks his head just a little. ]

I hope you can forgive me that. Or at least understand it.

[ A deep breath in. ]

But I will not make innocents suffer for my place here, for my secrets. I had the power to act to save lives, and it required me to do so in public view. There was no question of what to do, whatever the consequences to myself and my place here.

[ He looks to her then, and his nod is lower now. ]

I will understand. If you feel the need to cast me out for my unnaturalness. If you feel my presence may undermine things in some way. I trust in your wisdom, and would never work against you for all the gold in Casterly Rock.

Edited 2018-08-18 22:58 (UTC)

Unnatural? [ Her voice comes out sharper than she intends, the look of incredulity impossible to hide. ] My children are dragons. I walk in fire. How is what you can do any different?

[ Oh, it's far, far different. She doesn't have the strength within his bones, and for as much as she favors herself a dragon, she cannot fly without Drogon's aid.

But Clark... he's much too serious. Even now, days upon days later, he fears for rejection because of this, and it makes her heart twist uncomfortably in her chest. How many times did he face rejection in his life? How many times would her people have to face such judgment.

Not from her. Never from her, for she's been the beggar, she's lived in dirt and squalor, reduced to nothing more than a broodmare, sold like a bitch for a pretty coin. And he... she doesn't know what's happened to him. Why doesn't she know? ]

There is no way imaginable that you could undermine these 'things.' [ She chances a step closer, watching him with a careful eye, as if he would bolt at any given second. ] Your secret hasn't betrayed me. You've given me no reason to distrust you.

[ How could she ever be upset when he saved her people? ]

But you're no tool. You're a person just as the rest of us, with hopes and wishes. You swore yourself to me because you believe in me. A tool cannot do that.

[ He realizes, as her voice sharpens, that she may have taken his concern as some sort of self-condemnation. And by extension, think that he feels anything less than the deepest love and admiration for her in turn. That is why his own voice is soft. ]

I never hoped that you would cast me out, my queen. But there is some difference between us.

[ He gestures to her with a tip of his head.]

Your power is legendary, but it is well known to your line. The dragon is part of your blood, to walk in fire your birthright. There is prophecy that all but speaks your name.

[ His smile is wry as he continues.]

I'm the son of a farmer, my lady. And I a blacksmith by trade. That I can turn aside a sword with my skin, that I could hoist this building on my shoulders or fly above it of my own power, these are unknowns, beyond the comprehension of most.

And people fear that which they do not know or understand. I know that well enough from experience.

[ More warmth enters his expression. ]

I am glad to hear that you feel my concerns largely unfounded. That you do see us as of a kind. But I would have understood should you have felt different.

There's difference between all of us. [ She lifts her brows. ] Yours is merely more unique.

[ He explains those differences further, and they're mind-boggling, really. Immunity to a sword's slice... hoisting buildings. He's stronger than a dragon, isn't he? There was no House--great or small--which boasted of this. And certainly they would brag. ]

Madness is part of mine as well.

[ She's heard the rumors. For however much he compliments her, there isn't always such brightness to the Targaryen name; her father was a great taint to it, and likely, Viserys would have followed in his footsteps if given long enough a chance.

But fearing that which one doesn't understand... it leaves her feeling a disappointment for him. These abilities were gifts, not a thing to be feared. He could change the tide of war, or he could ensure that the world was a better place. ]

You shouldn't have to understand that. It's silly. [ She sniffs, lifting her chin. ] No more of this. I forbid you to leave, do you understand?

[ It's all so easy, the way she speaks about it, the way she sees it. Or rather, not easy, but... normal. Manageable. Just another obstacle to be conquered,circumvented, or perhaps just dealt with. m

He's spent a lifetime, thinking of himself as apart from others. He'd come here to be a part of something, but he'd never thought- he'd never dreamed that he'd truly be accepted for who he is, for what he can truly do. He never imagined anything like this. Not in his wildest of wild dreams. ]

Yes, my queen. I will never leave your side, so long as I live. As you command.

[ His hand presses lightly against his chest. As it wasn't merely here commanding him so.
But he'll say no more about it. Instead, he smiles to her, certain crooked lilt to his lips.]

Is there any other requests, my queen?

[ That smile is beautiful, boyish. It has her huffing at him, stepping closer to wrap her fingers around his hand and coax it away from his chest if he'll allow it. ]

You're not an Unsullied--you don't have to make those sorts of promises. [ Not unless he wishes to, and if that's the case... no, no, she needs to focus. ] Even they were given the choice to follow me. You'll stay, if you choose it, and for however long you wish.

[ It's not just about what she wants.

Only the gods know how affected she is by proclamations of loyalty, though. ]

[ He'll allow it. She'll notice that no matter what strength she knows is in his frame, he will ever and always be as pliant as a reed to her hand. If she wants his hand, she has it.

But he can't help that her words only make his smile widen just a little.]

I think you fail to understand how special it is, what you've given me.

[ His hand turns to curl around hers in return.]

A leader to believe in. A cause to put my gifts behind. A place where I am accepted and appreciated.

These things are rarer than gold. Where else would I want to go?

[ She makes a face at that, ready to argue she hasn't given much of anything. Not in the same way he's given the people of Meereen something so very essential. And what of all the things he's done for her people, training with her Unsullied, brightening the minds of those higher in the army's ranks? He's pushed men to fight harder than she'd expect in training exercises. ]

It's what a king or queen should give to all his or her people, Clark.

[ His hand curls around hers, warm and strong--and she's suddenly struck by the differences in their sizes. How kind and gentle he is, despite his strength. She meets his eyes. ]

You could go anywhere you please. You're limitless.

[ He looks down at her, in a purely physical sense, and he can't help a faint smile at her words. Limitless? Sometimes, it feels as if all he has are limits. Perhaps not on his abilities, but to use them responsibly? To use them well?]

I have the same limits as any man, my queen. I do not know how my actions will affect the world. I can only do as I deem right and hope to prevent more suffering than I cause.

[ He bows his head to her now. ]

One of my gifts is that of very keen senses. If I focus, I could hear the dinner bell in King's Landing.

I have lived my life hearing the joy and the suffering of those around me. The joy is what keeps my heart light. The suffering is why I sought out your banner. You hear them even without ears like mine, my queen. You hear, and it calls you to action.

I could be nowhere else.

a knight comes to serve a queen

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some weeks down the line

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thanks for your patience with my lame ass tagging speed

no worries!

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