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The silence of the morning air was broken by the clash of steel on steel as Arya and Syrio sparred on the balcony outside their chambers. They moved like dancers, feet gliding over the floor as they flowed from block to riposte to thrust to counter. Arya struck at his heart and he blocked the blow, his own blade aiming for her throat. Arya ducked the blow and lunged towards him. However, pain blossomed in her stomach and she doubled over, Needle clattering to the floor.

'Up, up, up,' Syrio said, tapping his rapier on the floor. Gritting her teeth against the pain, Arya reclaimed Needle and came en garde. Syrio attacked and she deflected the blow, her riposte forcing him to step back to catch her blade.

'Good,' he said, sheathing his sword. 'That is enough for today...'

'I'm fine,' Arya said and Syrio shook his head.

'You are getting stronger, child, but you will still need to rest...'

'...fine.'

##################

Arya lay in bed for two hours, tossing and turning in a restless mood.

Dammit...

Pushing back the covers, she swung her legs out of bed, grabbing her breeches and struggling into them. She was just buckling on her sword belt when there was a knock at the door and Queen Daenarys came in, followed by three of her soldiers.

'I see that you're recovering,' Daenarys said, sitting on the bed and gesturing for Arya to join her. Arya hesitated before sitting next to her with her hands folded in her lap.

'It can't be easy to be so far from your family,' Daenarys said. 'Do you miss them?'

'...yes,' Arya admitted. 'But, I write to them whenever I can...'

Daenarys gave her a sad smile, before gesturing to one of her soldiers, who stepped forward with his helmet held in one hand.

'This is Torgo Nudho. As long as you are our guest, he will be responsible for the guarding your chambers. I have matters to attend to, but I will come and speak to you later...'

She got up and left, the soldier moving to stand by the door with his arms behind his back.

'Are you guarding me for her or protecting her from me?' Arya asked.

'Both,' he replied and Arya shrugged.

'Well, whatever your name is, I'm going to train...'

She headed out onto the balcony and he followed her.

'I am Torgo Nudho,' he said. 'In the common tongue, it is Greyworm...'

'Whatever...' Arya said, drawing her sword and starting to run through the sequences that Syrio had taught her. As she practiced, Greyworm stood watching her, his face impassive.

'If you're just going to stand there,' she said, glancing over her shoulder, 'you can spar with me...'

'I am on duty...' Greyworm said and she shrugged.

'...alright,' she said, thrusting Needle towards his throat. Faster than she expected, Greyworm drew a knife from his belt and deflected the blow, stepping out of range. She attacked again and he dodged her blows, falling back, forcing her to advance to keep up with him. Then, he stepped back further and she overstepped, losing her balance. Before she could recover, he advanced, his knife coming to rest against her neck.

'I have warned you about the dangers of impetuousness,' Syrio said, stepping out onto the balcony and Greyworm stepped back, sheathing his knife. 'Patience is a virtue.'

'Yes, Syrio,' Arya said, sheathing Needle and turning to Greyworm. 'You remind me of my brother, Jon. He's serious, too...'

'Thank you...'

'It wasn't exactly a compliment. Do you have any brothers...?'

'I have 8000 brothers,' Greyworm said and Arya frowned.

'What?'

'I am Unsullied,' he said. 'We are trained from birth to be soldiers. We are all brothers...'

'Torgo Nudho can tell you about it,' Syrio said. 'Once you get back into bed...'

'Yes, Syrio,' Arya said, with a sigh.

##################

Syrio was walking in the Royal Gardens when he heard footsteps behind him.

'Lord Syrio,' Daenarys said and he turned to face her, inclining his head in a bow.

'Not a Lord, your Grace. I am merely the First Sword of Braavos. We have no care for rank or titles. If it please, you may call my Syrio...'

'...very well...Syrio,' Daenarys said. 'What do you think of my city?'

'I have been to Meereen many times, your Grace, before it was 'your city'. It is like the sea, great and beautiful, but it can still kill the unwary...'

'...I see...' Daenarys said, her eyes narrowing and Syrio continued.

'I am wondering why a foreign princess has come to Essos and declared herself Queen of Slaver's Bay...'

'...I am here as an emissary of my Father, King Aerys Targaryen, to rule in his name along with my brothers...'

'And, what do you think it means to rule...?'

'...I don't always know. I can only try to do what I feel is right and make the best decisions that I can...'

'That is all any of us can do, your Grace...'

'That is why I have ended slavery in Meereen.'

'That is...a bold step...'

'I wish that everyone agreed with you...'

'The Sons of the Harpy...?' Syrio asked and Daenarys nodded.

'We believe that they are being supported by the Masters of Astapor...'

'Those who gain power will always have enemies, your Grace...'

'Yes,' Daenarys said, turning to one of her Unsullied. 'Send someone to fetch...Master Syrio's apprentice...'

'Yes, my Queen,' he said, marching away as Daenarys turned back to Syrio.

'There is something I want to show you...'

##################

'Where are we going?' Arya asked, as they followed the Queen up the winding stairs of the tower.

'You'll see,' Daenarys said, with an enigmatic smile as she lead them out onto the top of the tower, Greyworm and another Unsullied taking up positions by the stairs. Below them was the panorama of the city, but Arya didn't care about the view, her eyes focused on the three shapes that were gliding above the buildings.

Dragons...

Their wings beat almost lazily as they flew, their jewelled hides glistening in the light of the sun, their long necks and heads crowned with spines.

'Bloody hell,' Arya said, leaning further over the parapet for a better view as Daenarys moved to stand next to her. 'Can I ride one?'

'Perhaps,' Daenarys said. 'I can't make that decision. Only someone they trust can...'

Her voice trailed off as there was a choked cry and she spun around to see one of her Unsullied fall with his throat cut. Even as his body hit the floor, figures in golden masks poured through the door, knives and short swords in their hands.

Sons of the Harpy...

'Behind me, my Queen,' Greyworm said, readying his shield and spear as they advanced, spreading out around him. Arya glanced at Syrio, who nodded almost imperceptibly. Together, they drew their swords and moved to stand with Greyworm as the Sons of the Harpy attacked. They were outnumbered, but the Harpies were unskilled, fighting without finesse or co-ordination. Arya stabbed one in the stomach, ducking under the knife that slashed at her head and slicing her attacker across his knee, opening his throat as he fell. Syrio was like a whirlwind, never being where his enemies' blades were, while his own rapier found it's target every time. She saw him deflect a savage blow to his head, disengaging his blade with a flick of the wrist to plunge it through the eyehole of the golden mask. Greyworm, meanwhile, was fighting in a crouch, his shield held in front of him as his spear stabbed out. Two Harpies fell as another rushed at him and he shifted his stance to intercept him, his spear catching his legs and dumping him to the ground. Before he could recover, the blade plunged into his heart and he gave a strangled scream. Arya deflected a backhand knife blow, thrusting Needle between the Harpy's ribs, stepping back as he fell sideways. Then, it was over as fast as it has begun. Around them, a dozen Harpy's lay dead, their blood pooling on the stones. Kneeling down, Arya cleaned Needle on one of their tunics, standing up and slipping her back into her sheath.

'Are you hurt, my Queen?' Greyworm asked and she shook her head.

'...no. No, I'm alright. Thank you...'

Greyworm nodded, stepping back as Daenarys turned to Syrio.

'Thank you for your assistance. The Sons of the Harpy are growing bolder. I never expected that they would dare attack the Great Pyramid...'

'There is no need to apologise, my Queen,' Syrio said. 'They are cowards who fight behind masks. The First Sword of Braavos does not run when there is fighting to do. With your permission, we will stay until the Sons of the Harpy have been driven from Meereen...'

'...thank you,' Daenarys said, turning to look out over the city. 'You were right, Syrio. Meereen is a dangerous place. The Sons of the Harpy will learn just how dangerous it can be...'

That's it for now. I hope you all enjoyed it. I want to thank everyone who favourited/followed and gave such great reviews. I have plans for a further Game of Thrones AU which this will tie into. For now, I need to let this sit and work on some other projects