I promised you all that I would try not to leave you all waiting so long for the next chapter, and sure enough, I kept that promise! This chapter has come out exactly three weeks after I posted the last one! It would have been up a few days ago, but I had to do some serious self-editing over a few parts. In all honesty, I only got midway through editing scene three before finally deciding that the chapter was probably good enough at this point because I was starting to get bored and disinterested in editing and found myself easily distracted from doing it. I also would still be writing this chapter if I had followed my original outline for this chapter and included one more scene at the very end, but I realized when I was finishing up scene four that the perfect way to end the chapter was with scene four and starting with the next planned scene at the beginning of the next chapter would be a great way to start it. This therefore makes today's chapter significantly shorter than the last two, but for all of you out there who have been complaining about how long the last two chapters were, hopefully you'll be appeased with today's length! To those of you who liked the long chapter word counts, sorry! I just happened to make this chapter shorter since it worked better that way! Can't give any estimates in advance as to how long a chapter will be, they just come out how they come out, lol! At least you all didn't have to wait two months this time to keep reading! :P

I also would like to note that because of how I had to rethink a few things when outlining this chapter regarding how these next few Torrhen-centric chapters will play out, it's very likely that we will be sticking with him for another two chapters before focusing back on Lyaella at the Wall, but no promises as of yet! Depending on how much I can get into the next chapter with what's supposed to be happening in Torrhen's storyline, we may still be able to keep him at two chapters like usual, or we may have another rare chapter where the focus is half on Lyaella, and the other half on Torrhen. Again, no guarantees as to what will happen since I still haven't outlined the next chapter.

IMPORTANT! PLEASE READ THE FOLLOWING PARAGRAPH:

That being said, I also want to take a moment and state that now that places are reopening because the COVID pandemic is doing better, I might have to slow down in my writing again while I look for work. Don't misunderstand! I'm NOT going to stop writing for awhile again like I did in May as I look for a job! I'm just saying that while I send out resumes to art/animation jobs and even turn in applications to part-time jobs in my local area, I might not be writing as much anymore. I'm officially a community college graduate and I need to get a job! That's a fact. Period. I really should have started doing this months ago after I finished my freelance gig, but the minute I finished it, everything with COVID happened and the whole world was basically on shut down. No one can blame me for not wanting to go get a job at that time, lol! But now that places are reopening, they are also rehiring. This is my chance to find work, and I'd be stupid not to take it! So yeah, while I look for a job, I might have to slow down my writing a little bit, and if I'm lucky enough to find work before I finish the next chapter, whatever hours I work might also require me to replan my writing time. That's not something I can even begin to plan for yet though, so I can't make any promises on how fast the next chapter will come out. I just wanted you all to be aware that there might a slight delay for whenever the next chapter is finally online. I need to find a job, so my days of devoting myself exclusively to writing/artwork are ending since this pandemic can't keep me locked inside my house glued to my computer anymore, lol!

Now, onto the review count! I'm so proud of you all! We reached the review goal and even managed to go over by five reviews! I'm so, so happy! Thank you all, dear reviewers! I send each and every one of you virtual hugs! *Virtuals hugging!* :D

As for the review goal... how about we try to reach 250 this time? That's only 20 reviews I'm asking for all together, slightly less than the last chapter. I think you guys can do it! Come on, everybody! Tell yourselves when you're done reading that you'll contribute to the review total! Every review I see helps me stay motivated to keep writing, so please, please review when you're done! :D

I think that's everything that I need to cover, so without any further adieu, please enjoy the chapter! And again, leave a nice, wonderful review when you're done! ;D

Happy Reading!

- Elphaba818

Chapter Thirteen: To Tame an Angry Direwolf

Lacing up his new boots, he hopped off the bed and took a few experimental steps forward. He was pleasantly surprised they fit so well. "Hmm… not bad. Not like my Northern boots, but still good. Not so thick and heavy, at least… What do you think, Shadow?"

Shadow's tail swayed, red eyes silently trailing after him as he paced back and forth across the solar.

"Aye, I guess they're good… Dunno what to make of these clothes, though. I feel like I'm only half-dressed without my cloak!"

His direwolf lightly panted, still listening attentively.

"Aye, I know it's… different, but what else can I do? Mother's handmaiden got me this weird outfit. My Northern clothes are too ruined from that fight with the Harpy's, and even if they weren't, they're too hot for Essos. I needed something cooler to wear."

Shadow quirked his head, whining lowly under his breath.

"I know, and I agree. I look like one of those Southern monkey's, now."

Torrhen stared at his reflection in the looking glass, unsure whether to smile or frown. He appreciated that his future mother had Missandei deliver him fresher, cooler clothes to wear in place of his overly hot Northern apparel, but still… it felt weird to be wearing this silken sleeveless orange shirt and lightweight tan britches. With his sword belt already strapped to his waist, the only thing he wasn't wearing was his pewter gray black cloak, but it was unnecessary thanks to the hot weather. It was annoying having to drag it around everywhere, but he was a Northerner. He was used to that. To be wearing clothes in a brighter color scheme than his usual blue outfit and for everything he was wearing to be designed to repel heat instead of retaining it for warmth was nothing short of bizarre.

"This stuff's so soft… it's weird! Too airy! I can't believe these are actually clothes!"

There was a pitter-patter of paws trotting along the marble floor, and then he spied his direwolf brother's reflection in the looking glass, calmly appraising him as he planted himself right by his side.

Torrhen chuckled. "Well if nothing else, I guess I look somewhat more Targaryenish now," he mused. "This shirt's orange instead of red, but at least it's a bright orange… And I'm not wearing any black anymore, but with you by my side, bud, you throw the black into my new look. And it's a good thing you've got red eyes. You even look like a Targaryen direwolf!"

Shadow panted, butting his head under his arm.

Running his hands through his pal's thick fur, Torrhen grinned and faced himself in the looking glass again. "Okay, this is it. You are Torrhen Snow, twin brother of Lyaella Snow, and one of the very last members of House Targaryen, regardless of your last name," he told himself firmly. "Your sister and your dragon are missing, and you're worried about them, but you're here in Meereen right now with Shadow, and at long last, you're finally in Queen Daenerys' court. You know she doesn't believe you are related to her yet, and that hurts… but you've gone through hell to get here so you're going to change her mind. You alone are the only one who can ensure your future mother never becomes the Mad Queen. Your concussion's finally gone, so you're gonna march up to her right now and go talk to her! You're gonna keep your temper in check and calmly talk about her mistakes here in Meereen, and try making her see you're telling the truth about being related! You can do it! No, you will do it! The future depends on it!"

Shadow cocked his head at him, mewling inquisitively.

Torrhen pulled a long face at his friend. "What? A little pep talk never hurt anyone. Now, come on. We gotta try to find Mother before we report to Ser Barristan for squiring duties."

Shadow yipped. Torrhen smiled, giving his wolf one more scratch behind the ears before leading the way out into the hall. At long last, the Ghiscari healer had told him yesterday he was finally healed up enough from his head trauma to be back on his feet. Torrhen was beyond thrilled. Not only could he finally track down his future mother in this pyramid and talk to her the way he'd always dreamed of talking to one of his parents, he could finally begin his squiring duties for Ser Barristan. He — Torrhen Snow — was going to be squiring for the legendary Barristan Selmy! The very notion was enough to put a bounce in his step and had him grinning from ear to ear. Such a tremendous honor, and he was beyond grateful to Ser Barristan for giving him this chance.

Glancing curiously into each open archway room they passed, Torrhen frowned. "Hmm… she's not in there… or in there… or in this one… Where d'you suppose her chambers are, boy?"

Shadow stayed silent, merely glancing up at him as he trotted along.

"Maybe they're not on this level? D'you think they're maybe up on the next — oof!"

"Oh! I'm so sorry!"

"No, no, it's alright. It was my fault, I wasn't paying attention. Sorry…"

Brushing himself off, Torrhen took a step back and glanced up apologetically at the dark-skinned young woman he'd collided with while turning the corner. Missandei smiled kindly in return. "I'm glad to see you're finally up and about. You didn't bump your head again though, did you?"

Torrhen chuckled, gently rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Not really, more like smacked my nose rather than my head itself. I'm fine."

She lightly laughed. "Good, good. Judging by how many times you tried sneaking out of that room while on bed rest, I'm sure the last thing you want is to go back and deal with even more head trauma. I'm very sorry."

He shook his head, waving her apology away. "Again, no big deal. I just wasn't looking where I was going. Sorry 'bout that."

"It's no trouble, but you seem rather lost right now. Are you trying to find something in particular here in the Great Pyramid?"

Torrhen eagerly nodded, idly stroking Shadow's black coat. "I was looking for the queen's chambers, Lady Missandei. I was hoping to talk to her for a little while before I go find Ser Barristan for my squiring duties."

She blinked, surprised. "You wish to see her grace?"

"Aye, my lady."

"I… I was just going to see her myself, to help her prepare for the day. I have nothing against allowing you to see her, but she's not presentable yet, Torrhen. You might have to wait awhile."

"Oh, okay. If you can take me to her rooms, I'll wait outside until she's ready, then."

Missandei was taken aback by his insistence, but after a slight pause she motioned him to follow and led the way in the opposite direction down the corridor. "I don't suggest you wait directly outside her chambers, but I'll show you to where you can wait in the hall itself if you really wish to see her right away."

"That's fine. Thanks."

"I must say, you're quite eager to speak to her grace."

"Of course I am! She's the whole reason I'm here, after all. I've gotta prove to her I'm not lying about being related to House Targaryen, not to mention talk to her about Meereen itself."

She glanced at him, puzzled. "Pardon? What was that you just said about Meereen?"

He shrugged, completely nonchalant. "I've got stuff I need to talk to her about the city, Lady Missandei. I know Meereen's still rebuilding from that earthquake and things are tough right now, but I was out there on the streets for months. I'm sure she's doing the best she can to get everything back to normal, but some of things I saw… I'm worried about how she's handling it, and how the people are reacting to her decisions. No one looks twice at a street rat, and the stuff I heard…" he shook his head, unwilling to say more just yet. "I really must talk to her, my lady. It's important!"

Missandei carefully considered him for several moments, though Torrhen couldn't quite read her facial expression. It seemed to take an eternity before she finally nodded. "I'll talk to her if you'd like, tell her that you earnestly must discuss something with her."

"Really? Thanks!"

"Of course, but I need to know a few more specific details first before I relay this to her grace. Can you tell me more about—"

"Ah, there you are, Missandei! Our queen's been expecting you!"

They looked up. They'd been so engrossed with chatting, they hadn't seen the Commander of the Second Sons exiting a certain archway entrance further down the hall being guarded by several Unsullied soldiers, all while straightening his leather armor.

Torrhen couldn't help but frown as Daario approached. That room being guarded by the Unsullied must be his future mother's chambers, but why was Daario leaving them so early in the morning? Sure, he was on his way to see the queen, too, but if he hadn't bumped into Missandei on the way here and found out she wasn't ready yet, he could have waited a few minutes for her to come out and see him. Why would Daario Naharis need to see the queen this early?

If Missandei's thoughts were the same as his, Torrhen didn't know. Her face was carefully neutral as she nodded in greeting. "Captain Naharis. You're up early."

"The queen summoned me," he grinned, strutting towards them. "Requested my presence specifically."

"Just now?"

"Perhaps. Or perhaps not. Maybe I've been here for hours already. What do you think?"

Missandei had no visible reaction to his comment, but Torrhen shifted in place slightly, on edge. He didn't know why, but something in Daario's voice made him uneasy. He sounded cocky, but also… something else. Torrhen wasn't even sure what it was, exactly. He'd never heard anyone use such a strange tone before. He didn't like it, whatever it was. Not when it was on Daario's face when talking about his future mother.

Daario's eyes then fell on him, and his smirk only grew. "Morning, Little Prince. You here to sweep the queen off her feet?"

Shadow's red eyes stayed locked on Daario as he quietly growled, so lowly Torrhen knew he was the only one who heard. He was glad his wolf did, because that glint in Daario's eyes was still there. "I told you before, I'm no prince."

"Oh? And what else could you be?" he teased. "The rightful king instead of our beautiful queen, perhaps?"

"No," said Torrhen, clenching his fists. "I could never be king with my last name."

Daario snorted. "Oh, of course. You're just a Snow. You could never hope to wear a crown. Bastards are nothing in Westeros."

Torrhen fumed, glaring daggers. "What do you want, Daario? I've got something important to talk to the queen about, so what do you need with her this early?"

"Oh, nothing much, Daenerys summoned me herself. She couldn't bare to be away from me for a second longer than necessary, I suppose… what with my many talents."

"Talents?"

"Every woman appreciates a man who knows his stuff, Prince Snow," he chuckled, folding his arms behind his head. "They like men with experience, not innocent little boys. Remember that."

"Captain Naharis, enough. He's just a boy."

"Fine, fine. My apologies, Missandei."

Despite his rising temper, Torrhen couldn't help but quirk his head at Missandei as she fixed Daario with a pointed look, yet he snickered and waved her off. He was beyond puzzled. "Experience…?"

"Oh? Still don't know about the ways of the world? Well, when a man loves a woman—"

"Captain Naharis."

"What? He'll have to learn sometime, right?"

"Who'd wanna learn anything from an arrogant prick like you?!"

Missandei's expression became twice as cold, but Daario completely disregarded her as he threw back his head and laughed. "Trust me, Prince Snow, you'll be grateful for this education someday. And the day you put this knowledge into practice? Single best day of your life!"

His cheeks puffed red, his whole body trembling with rage. "Stop calling me a prince, and whatever you're talking about, that's bullshit! The best day of my life will be when I finally find my sister again!"

"Oh, yeah? Well, you know Targaryen's were famous for marrying close kin together. If you really are telling the truth about that, you should consider losing your innocence that day. Make it all the more memorable…"

"That's enough, Captain Naharis. You are insulting my squire."

The trio turned. Ser Barristan was now walking down the corridor, his face stern as he stared Daario down.

But Daario only smirked in return, not so easily ruffled. "It was only a joke, old man. No need to get so uptight about it."

Ser Barristan didn't look pleased, but he let it slide and turned his gaze to Torrhen. "Glad you're feeling better, Torrhen."

Torrhen smiled. "Morning, ser. Aye, I'm feeling much better. Eager to start squiring for you today, too!"

Ser Barristan didn't smile back, though. He only raised a brow. "Are you? I'm not so sure. After our discussion the other day, I'd have thought you would've remembered that we talked about how good knights are always respectful to others—" his gaze flicked to Daario briefly before focusing back on the boy "—and why didn't you report to my solar immediately upon waking?"

He couldn't help but scowl at the not-so-subtle reminder about being respectful to Daario, but upon hearing the second half of the knight's statement, Torrhen blinked. "Report to you? What do you mean?"

"Part of your duties while serving me include helping me prepare every day. I expect you to be at the door to my chambers every morning ready to begin your morning duties."

"Oh, uh, sorry. I'll make sure to do that starting tomorrow. I didn't know…"

Ser Barristan studied him for several moments, then slowly dropped his stern gaze. "All right, as it's only your first day, I'll forgive you, but see to it that you are ready to begin those duties first thing tomorrow."

"Aye, ser. And what exactly am I supposed to do for you every morning? I mean no disrespect, Ser Barristan, but I thought squires just trained to be knights. Doesn't that mean you're supposed to teach me how to become a strong fighter?"

"Squiring is about more than just sword fighting, Torrhen. You also have duties to carry out if I request them of you. Part of your morning duties include bringing me my fast from the kitchens, keeping my solar and clothes clean, and polishing my sword and armor."

Torrhen gawked, dumbfounded. "What? I'm… I'm a servant?"

Daario slapped his knees as he cracked up. "Not just any servant, Prince Snow. You're a glorified servant!"

He whipped around, shooting him a poisonous look. The arrogance of this man truly ticked him off. "Say that again, asshole!"

"Gladly. You're a glor—"

"Enough, both of you," Ser Barristan sharply cut in. "Daario, stop taunting my squire. Torrhen, I just told you to be more respectful. Apologize, now."

Torrhen ground his teeth, aggravated, but obediently turned to the sellsword. "Sorry…"

Daario just grinned. "Whatever you say, little prince. Whatever you say."

"Don't call me—!"

"That'll be all, thank you. Come along, Torrhen. I'll show you where the kitchens are and where you can collect my meals."

And with that, Ser Barristan wrapped his arm around Torrhen's shoulders and steered him away.

Torrhen wished he could have finished snapping at that arrogant fuck, but he kept his mouth shut and simply waved goodbye to Missandei as they walked off. As happy as he was to finally be out of that tiny room and allowed to explore the Great Pyramid as he liked, it was still a shame he couldn't see his mother straightaway. Hopefully by the time he finished doing whatever squire duties Ser Barristan wanted him to do, she'd agree to meet him for a few minutes if Missandei relayed his request to speak to her later.

"Don't let anger cloud your judgment, Torrhen," said the knight quite suddenly, making Torrhen glance up. "You seem like you have a good head on your shoulders, so I don't want to see you go down the same downward spiral as… well…"

"As the last mad monarch?"

Ser Barristan sighed. "…Yes, exactly. I can see you're easily short-tempered, but you mustn't let your emotions get the better of you. Understand?"

"Aye, ser," he mumbled, folding his arms. Shadow nudged him a bit as they walked on, but Torrhen paid him no mind. If he did anything other than just walk beside the knight with his eyes locked dead ahead, he'd let his anger break through again. He didn't want to disappoint Ser Barristan. He'd been so good to him so far, and he didn't want to earn the nickname of The Mad Prince in this timeline. Not that he was a prince, anyway.

He would have to bury his rage deep inside from now on. He was not going to succumb to Targaryen madness just because of his short temper. Never in a thousand years would he let that happen.

Never.

The soft sound of approaching footsteps made her straighten and turn. Entering her chambers was her dearest friend and fellow adviser.

"Good morning, your grace. I apologize for my tardiness."

"Good morning, Missandei. It is no trouble, really. Would you help me select a dress for today?"

"Certainly, your grace. Did you have a particular color in mind?"

"White, please. And the silver dragon choker to go with it."

"Of course, one moment."

Smiling kindly, Dany stepped away from her balcony window and joined Missandei at the wardrobe. It still astounded the young queen that she actually had more than one dress to wear and could store them in a wardrobe, let alone lived at the top most level in the master suite of the Great Pyramid. After Ser Willem died, she had spent most of her life living on the run, only occasionally invited people's homes as guests when her idiot brother tried to beg for help in supporting his claim as king. Even when they were lucky enough to be guests for a short time, no guest bedroom held a candle to the luxury of her solar here in the Great Pyramid. Were it not for her upbringing of knowing what it felt like to have nothing and knowledge that this room had likely been made by thousands of slaves who'd probably been killed before the pyramid was fully built, she would have loved her room more than any other place in the pyramid. The only thing she couldn't find fault in loving about this chamber was the view. The view from her balcony was breathtaking, and she loved gazing outside whenever she could. With any luck, perhaps she'd see Drogon flying on the horizon one of these days. Her precious son had only visited her once since he left, and that'd been months ago now. She could only hope he was all right and would return soon.

Missandei soon selected a striking white silk dress, and held it up for the queen to see. "Will this do, your grace?"

"Yes, that's perfect. Thank you, Missandei."

Smiling politely, Missandei laid the dress out on the bed for her and quickly stepped aside to gather things together at the vanity table. As grateful as Dany was to her friend for always helping her look her best every day, she drew the line when it came to clothes. She appreciated her help in selecting what she would wear each day, but unless she required assistance in tying off the back or undoing particularly tricky buttons or pulls, Dany preferred to dress herself. She was a queen, but she would not permit her best friend to act no better than any other handmaid slave by making her dress her like a doll. No, it was her hair braiding and daily face powdering that Missandei really helped her with.

Slipping on the gown, Dany carefully knotted the simple tie around the back of her neck and appraised her reflection in the long floor-to-ceiling looking glass. Nodding in satisfaction, she turned and approached her friend.

"Why were you so late this morning, Missandei? I don't mind, of course," she added, sweeping aside her skirts and sitting down on the vanity stool. "I was simply wondering."

"Forgive me, your grace," Missandei said, turning to grab a comb. "I ran into Torrhen on my way here and we were talking."

Dany's breath stilled. "I see… Did he sneak out from his chambers again?"

"No, no, your grace. He was cleared by the healer yesterday to finally be up and about, remember? He's perfectly all right now."

"Ah, that's right. It slipped my mind. I'm glad to hear he's doing better."

"Indeed, though while we spoke we were interrupted by Daario, and then Ser Barristan found us. He took Torrhen away to begin his duties as his new squire."

"Oh, that makes sense. Let us hope that that boy adjusts well to his new role as Ser Barristan's squire. But enough about that. Did Daario go on ahead to speak to his men about relaying my message?"

Missandei blinked, slowly setting down the comb. "I — I don't know what you're speaking of, your grace," she said, carefully weaving her hair into its trademark braids. "What message?"

Dany frowned. "Did Daario not tell you? I called him here because I need his men to relay to Hizdahr to come this afternoon. We must discuss his plans regarding the restoration of the city."

"Oh? Is that the reason? Torrhen and I both saw him exit your chambers, but he didn't tell us that. He… Well, he made it sound like his visit to you was more of a… a social call."

From her reflection in the looking glass, Dany's face quickly switched from neutral to shocked with the span of a single blink. Then, ever so slowly, it contorted into absolute fury. It took every bit of willpower she had to fix her face back into a neutral mask.

"He did, did he?" she said, her tone quite clipped.

"Yes, your grace."

"And in front of that boy, too?"

"Yes."

"Hmm," she murmured, still keeping her emotions in check. She had no shame in letting Missandei know her innermost thoughts, but she had to keep her emotions from outwardly showing right now. It was good practice for when she met with strangers in the future. "Tell me, did that boy understand what I think you're telling me?"

"No, your grace. He had absolutely no idea what was being implied."

"Good. It would be terrible for a child that young to know the full extent of such crudity. Please remind me later to reprimand Captain Naharis for such vulgarity in front of… our guest."

"…As you wish, your grace."

In the looking glass, Dany studied the way the corners of her friend's mouth shifted downward as she spoke, carefully keeping her eyes focused on her clever fingers rather than meeting her gaze in the reflection. "Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing is wrong, it's… it's just…"

"Speak your mind, Missandei, please."

"Well, I was thinking… it's strange to hear you speak of Torrhen so formally. I'd have thought you would've been eager to spend time with him after he revealed his lineage."

Dany froze. "I… Well, I… You see—"

"You don't have to say anything if you don't want to, your grace. I was only curious, but if you don't wish to discuss this, I understand."

She forced a light laugh, waving away her friends' worries. "It's quite all right, Missandei, really. I don't mean to be ignoring him. It's just that I haven't been able to make the time to go see him. The city is falling apart and on the brink of civil war, and there are still so many people who are starving or homeless from the earthquake. I've been working so hard with Hizdahr to get Meereen back on it's feet. As much as I would like to spare few minutes to go see our guest and find out how he's doing, I can't. Not until the city is stable again will I be able to rest."

It wasn't exactly a lie. She was busy every day trying to bring peace and stability back to Meereen. It was a cumbersome job being a ruler, and it left her mentally drained by the time she finally retired every night. However, it didn't wear her out so much that she couldn't spare an hour or so to speak to the Westerosi boy who had arrived in her court. It wasn't that she didn't want to get to know Torrhen Snow, it was just that looking at him made her remember her little Rhaego. Her precious little boy with her Sun and Stars… She never even got to hug him or kiss him once, let alone hold him. She'd sacrifice everything just to go back to that moment when she'd foolishly believed that spiteful witch and scream at her younger self to not listen to her lies.

She couldn't voice any of this out loud, though. Not that Missandei wasn't trustworthy, but because speaking about it would not help. She wanted to forget the hole that had been left in her heart in the days before her dragons were born. If she talked about it, she'd be forced to remember and relive the tragedy in its entirety. She couldn't subject herself to that pain. No, she wouldn't. That was all in the past. She was Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, Mother of Dragons, and Breaker of Chains. She was a queen, and as queen, she could not afford to wallow in her grief when Meereen was suffering and the Lannister's still sat on her family's throne. She would do what needed to be done, no matter the cost.

"But your grace, things are already doing better for the people in terms of rebuilding. We received the report yesterday that the builders received the equipment they need to construct the new homes. It might be all right to slow down a little."

Dany squeezed her hands tightly on her lap to hide her inner turmoil. "Well, maybe. I suppose I could look over the reports one more time and see if things are doing better overall. If things are looking better, I'll consider visiting him later. We'll see, Missandei."

Missandei was quiet for a short time as she finished weaving the last few strands of silver into their usual intricate braids. As soon as Dany nodded her approval of today's hairstyle, she gathered the face powders and sweet perfumes and began coloring her eyes.

"I suppose you have a point, your grace. Getting the city back to it's usual state is indeed important, so forgive me for saying so, but I do think you should make time to go talk to Torrhen at least once today. Even if you're unable to really sit down with him, spare a few minutes, at least. While we were talking, he told me he has things he wishes to address to you regarding the city that he saw while out on the streets."

It was lucky that Missandei chose that moment to gather more eye coloring, because the queen jerked her head slightly in her surprise. "I beg your pardon? What do you mean?"

"I'm afraid I can't tell you anymore than that, my queen," said Missandei, dusting her other eye. "He didn't tell me any details, but I do think he had legitimate concerns about Meereen that he wanted to speak to you about rather than just whining about his treatment on the streets. He might be a bit short-tempered, but he seems like a good boy. Hasn't attempted to harm anyone with that huge wolf, anyway."

Dany lightly laughed. "Yes, you're right, there. I don't know how he ended up on this side of the sea with a pet like that with him."

"An unusual choice of companion, I must say," Missandei agreed. "Though nowhere near as unusual as dragons being back in the world."

"Quite true, my friend. Quite true."

"And if I might add to that, your grace, I got a good look at Torrhen's face when we spoke, and I noticed his eyes. Since he's healed from his injury, I could finally discern their proper color."

Dany stiffened, the significance of this statement impossible to ignore. "And?"

Missandei smiled. "Neither he nor Ser Barristan were lying, your grace. They do appear to be violet. Just like yours."

Her mouth went dry, her mind racing with a million thoughts all at once.

Torrhen really did have violet eyes? Targaryen eyes? Was he really telling the truth about being related to her? Were they really family? Was… Was she not alone anymore as the last Targaryen?

She nearly smiled, but then a certain baby boy with tufts of dark hair flooded her thoughts. A baby boy wrapped in furs and nestled in the arms of her departed Drogo.

Her baby boy. Her baby boy with violet eyes.

Dany thickly swallowed, shoving the memory away. That one vision in the House of the Undying would haunt her for the rest of her life. The promise of home, of a family to call her own. Curse Mirri Maz Duur and her awful blood magic! She didn't just kill Drogo and her innocent son, she'd cursed her to never have a family. Her womb would never quicken again, would never swell with child. She'd never be a mother to anyone other than her sweet dragons. So she mustn't think about Rhaego anymore. She couldn't look back on her mistakes. She wouldn't. Not now, not ever. If she looked back, she would be lost.

"Perhaps he's telling the truth, then. Or perhaps he and the missing twin sister he mentioned have a parent with some Valyrian ancestry in their family tree."

She was proud of herself for how strong she sounded while saying that, but it melted away when she saw the gentle confusion in Missandei's eyes as she finished the last touches of her face powders.

"You don't want to believe him, your grace? I don't understand…"

Dany waited for Missandei to slip the dragon choker around her neck before shaking her head. "It's not that, Missandei. I do want to believe him."

"Then why don't you?"

She sighed. "His story is just… it's unbelievable. I don't understand how he and this sister of his could live in Westeros at all with the Usurper on the throne. And they have a dragon, too? Why have I never heard any whispers of such coming from the west? Who were their parents? Their relatives? Ser Barristan… he came to me the other night after talking to Torrhen. He told me everything that boy revealed about his aunts and uncle. The things he told me…" she trailed off, shaking her head. "I don't understand… It's so impossible it seems like one big lie, yet from the little I've seen, he doesn't come across as a liar… It makes no sense."

"All the more reason you should go see him, your grace. You won't get any answers unless you ask him."

Dany sighed. She knew Missandei was right. She had to stop postponing this eventual talk with Torrhen if only to get straight answers to her questions. If only there was some way she could confirm that Torrhen truly was a Targaryen bastard without having to subject her heart to the painful memories he unintentionally brought up by his very presence.

That's when it hit her. She jolted, eyes wide. There was a way to find out. It was so obvious, she couldn't believe she hadn't thought of it sooner.

Missandei tilted her head, concerned. "Is something wrong?"

"No, no, Missandei. Nothing is wrong," she claimed, now smiling. "I simply realized what I must do to find out if he's lying or not."

"Oh, you're planning to see him later, then?"

"Yes, I am," she assured her. "I will talk to him… but on my terms."

"Your grace?"

"Anyone can lie, Missandei. That's a natural fact in life. But some things cannot and will not be believed by people until they see proof of it. Well, I must see for myself if he's really half-Targaryen. I must test his Valyrian blood."

Torrhen was in a bad mood. A very, very bad mood.

After Ser Barristan had showed him his room in the pyramid and went over all the details about how he would conduct his morning routine serving him from now on, he'd asked him if he wanted to go out to the barracks now and start his other duties. He'd eagerly said yes, as he was excited to finally start training with the legendary knight.

Oh, how naive he'd been.

A low whimper reached his ears, and he huffed, knowing exactly what it was. Wiping a trail of sweat from his brow, he threw aside the thin rag he'd been using to polish the knight's armor and glared hatefully at his direwolf. "Shut up."

Shadow lounged about happily in the cool shade of the pyramid walls. Head resting on his front paws, his red eyes followed his young master's every movement as his tail softly swayed back and forth.

"Stop wagging. Now."

Soft whine. More wagging.

"Hey! I mean it!"

Wag wag wag. Whimper whimper.

"Shadow, enough! This is not funny!"

That was all it took. With those words, Shadow let out a low bark as he stuck his backside up in the air, tongue lolling out of his mouth as he panted and wagged twice as hard.

A vein ticked in Torrhen's forehead, his temper flaring. Shadow had his name for three particular reasons. The first being that when Torrhen first saw him, he'd known right away he wanted his pup's name to be reminiscent to Ghost's name in some way, that way Ghost's spirit and his father's love would always be remembered. The second was because when Shadow was a pup, he followed him around everywhere like a second shadow. Plus, he and Lyaella had grown up in their timeline in the lingering shadows of their parents mistakes. It seemed fitting.

But the third reason? Shadow would occasionally yip, whine, or whimper for attention, or even growl threateningly if he was upset or trying to protect him or Lyaella. Howling was rare for the direwolf, but unless he was sad or trying to play music on the rare occasion he listened to his young master and mistress when they begged him to howl along with their music, he hardly ever did it. But generally, that was it. It was quite seldom for the wolf to make any other sounds than that, hence he hardly ever barked.

And when he did bark, it was only for two reasons: either he was desperate and unable to attract attention in the event of an emergency… or he was amused and happy that he couldn't help himself.

In this case, his barking was the latter. And that only pissed his boy off even more.

Torrhen growled, shoving aside the chest plate he'd been cleaning to fully face his friend. "Stop it, boy! Stop barking right this minute!" he demanded. "You're… You're insulting me!"

To his dismay, Shadow not only kept barking, he barked even louder as he trotted forward, delivering wet, slobbery kisses to his boys' face.

"Ugh! No — Shadow, no! — Bad direwolf! Bad!" he snapped, doing his best to shove his friend away. "Stop it! — Stop — Hey, no! N-Not there! — Bleh! Shadow, gross! How many times do I have to tell you, 'avoid the lips?!' Seven fucking hells!"

Shadow was unfazed by his disgust, and kept licking harder.

"S-Stop! Cut it out! — I'm serious, boy! — No! Not the fucking lips!"

"Is there a problem, Torrhen?"

Ser Barristan's voice was evidently the only thing that could make Shadow stop, because quick as a flash, his ears perked up and his kisses stopped mid-lick. He stepped away from Torrhen to sit down nicely at his side, tail still wagging as he gazed up innocently at the old knight.

Torrhen didn't even spare his liege knight a glance of acknowledgment. He was too busy trying to wipe the excess drool off his face. "Ugh…! Goddammit, Shadow! Was that really necessary?! I'm drenched!"

His direwolf merely cocked his head at him, panting loudly with his tongue hanging out.

The nonchalance of it all only made Torrhen's blood boil. "Don't act innocent! That was disgusting, and you know it!"

Ser Barristan chuckled, kneeling down to pat Shadow's head. "Spirited friend, you have, Torrhen," he murmured. "Just as unruly as you are."

He scowled. "I swear, I'm gonna shear off all his fur and use it as the trimming in a new cloak," he growled, his glare cutting. "Maybe that'll teach him to quit sticking his tongue in my mouth!"

A low growl emanated from the back of Shadow's throat, hackles slowly rising.

"Don't you growl at me! You deserve it! I've told you a million times, Shadow! No — kissing — my — mouth! I don't want your direwolf germs!"

Yipping furiously, Shadow spun around and marched back to his previous spot in the shade, back turned to his young master.

"Hmph! Fine, be that way! But you're not sleeping in my bed tonight, so get used to the pillow in the corner!"

Shadow yapped, annoyed, then plopped down without another sound.

Ser Barristan chuckled again as he shook his head. "You two are a perfect pair, I must say. Both as stubborn and free-spirited as the other."

Torrhen let out an empty laugh. "As if!" he snorted, seizing the rag and tugging the chest plate back on his lap. "He's drenches me to the bone in those disgusting kisses when he's excited! I don't stick my tongue down his throat whenever I laugh at him!"

"No, I daresay you don't," the knight agreed, laughing openly. It took him a few moments to gather his composure, then promptly focused back on Torrhen. "How's it coming?"

Torrhen huffed, showing him the half-polished chest piece. "Slow. Very slow. It's taken me ages just to do this much, though I did finish the arm braces."

"Ah, good. Very good."

"How long will this take? You said you'd train me for awhile after I polish this stuff."

"That's entirely up to you, Torrhen. On how fast you work on each piece."

"Argh! By the time I'm done with this, it'll probably be dark!"

"And if it is, then we'll train in the dark."

"What? Seriously?"

"Every good warrior knows that they must train every day without fail in order to sharpen their skills. Take one day off, and you will know. Take two days off, and your peers will know. Take a week off, your enemies will know."

"Then why don't we just train right now and I'll polish this stuff after?"

Ser Barristan's eyes twinkled. "Because if we did that, then you'd have no incentive to teach yourself how to swiftly yet skillfully polish your own armor someday."

Torrhen blinked. "Huh?"

"Keep working, Torrhen. The faster you finish polishing my armor, the sooner I start going over the basics in swordplay with you, and we'll have more time to train, too."

With one last nod, Ser Barristan rejoined the group of off-duty Unsullied sparring with each other as they trained.

Torrhen sighed, furiously resuming his polishing. This was so stupid. When he agreed to become Ser Barristan's squire, he'd been honored and eager to learn from the legendary knight. He hadn't realized he'd be little more than a servant in the knight's employ when he took the job. Curse the North for their disinterest in knighthood! Had he realized what the full obligations and duties that being a squire entailed, he would have thought twice before saying yes. These stupid chores were cutting into precious time he should be using to get to know his future mother. He'd already wasted the past few months trying to get into the Great Pyramid just to meet her. Now he had to wait even longer to talk to her.

Time ticked past, slower and slower. It took ages to scrub away the last bits of dust and sand from the chest plate, and his whole arm was sore and achy as he reached for the shin guards.

Torrhen groaned as he worked away at the metal. "Ugh, this is pointless… Why polish it when it's just gonna get dirty again…?"

Tossing aside the rag, he slumped back on the ground to stare up at the sky. He was beyond exhausted, and he hadn't even started training yet. Did Ser Barristan only take him on as his squire just to get his own personal errand boy? If he really wanted to help him grow up into a strong, respectful knight, he'd be teaching him fencing right now and quizzing him on how true honorable knights would react in certain situations.

Closing his eyes, he let the hot Essos sun blaze down on him as he listened to Ser Barristan and the other Unsullied sparring a short ways off. Yet the longer he listened, the more the clashing steel resembled a rhythmic beat to his ears. He sat up fully, his eyes still shut as he listened harder.

Clang. Clang. CLASH!

Clang. Clang. CLASH!

Cla-Clang. Cla-Clang. CLASH!

Over and over again went the beat, each note delightfully followed by a heavy grunt or groan as the men kept sparring. Not to mention that just off in the distance, he could distinctly hear the tremors of at least a dozen or so men marching in perfect unison and harmony. The Unsullied out in the city must be conducting a patrol somewhere nearby.

Clapping a hand over his eyes, Torrhen smiled as he lightly swayed back and forth a bit from his spot on the ground. It was beautiful. A perfect melody of sound, music only he could hear. He might not have his sister's talent for thinking up perfect lyrics and rhymes when writing songs, but Lyaella couldn't hear music anywhere, anytime like he could. Music was everywhere for Torrhen to hear, all he had to do was listen. And what he heard right now? This was the perfect beginning for a possible war song! Maybe he could write a song about his mother's legacy as a conquerer, ending slavery here in Essos. Sure, it might take him a bit longer to write it since he was also working on that song about his quest to find Lyaella again, but this war melody was in his head now. Even if he only worked on the musical score itself and waited until he finally found Lyaella again to think about the lyrics, that was fine. What mattered was ensuring he remembered this tune later.

He snatched the cloth and frantically kept polishing. The sooner he finished cleaning everything, the sooner he could ask Ser Barristan for a quick break to run upstairs and write down this idea. He couldn't let himself forget this amazing melody. He wasn't sure how exactly he'd be able to replicate the sound of clashing steel later when composing this new piece, but for now he could at least jot down the overall beat. Until he could slip away for a few minutes, he couldn't let himself forget that tempo in the meantime.

"Clang, clang, clash! Clang, clang, clash! Cla-clang, cla-clang, clash…!" he murmured under his breath, his polishing arm picking up speed in time with his whispers. "Clang, clang, clash! Clang, clang, cla—"

"What's that you mumble, boy?"

Torrhen casually glanced over his shoulder, but upon seeing who spoke, he hardened, burning hatred instantly coursing through his veins.

A certain soldier was right behind him, his chest still heavily bandaged and his face betraying his exhaustion just from walking all the way here from his quarters. A certain Unsullied soldier. The one soldier Torrhen despised almost as much as the selfish Starks.

"Grey Worm," he gruffly greeted, clutching the rag and shin guard tighter in his fists. "I'd thought you'd still be on bed rest."

"I should be, but I not check Unsullied training since I get hurt," he said, nodding politely. "I come check."

Clenching his teeth together so hard his jaw throbbed, Torrhen forced a stiff nod. "Well, they're over there," he grumbled, glaring daggers at the shin guard on his lap as he resumed his furious scrubbing. "Go watch, if you want." He couldn't let himself look at this man. He had to focus on the war melody in his head and polishing the last few pieces of Ser Barristan's armor. If he didn't, there'd be no way he could ignore the red hot rage coiling in his at the mere sight of the soldier.

Grey Worm. The Commander of the Unsullied. His mother's top military adviser. And the fucking asshole who was just as responsible as to why his father was dead in the future as the Starks were.

"I see them from here. They look fine. Haven't lost their skills since I last check their training process."

"Hmm. Good," he said flatly. He didn't care if he was coming off as rude or distrustful to everyone else. He needed to be angry right now, even if he didn't let anyone know just how furious he was while out in public. Words were not enough to explain how much he hated this man.

All their lives, neither he nor Lyaella had ever truly wished for their cruel relatives to die. They were terrible people and it would only be a good thing for the world if they did die, but neither of them had ever dreamed or joked about one day killing Queen Sansa, Lady Arya, and King Bran for the things they'd done. There were other things they'd fantasize doing to the Starks if there was some way they could get justice for their parents as well as the themselves for how they'd grown up, but they never planned to kill them. They didn't want to stoop to their level and turn into kinslayers, and privately they agreed that death was too good an end for the things that their aunts and uncle had done.

But Grey Worm? Grey Worm was a whole other matter. Torrhen didn't understand why Lyaella didn't hold any hatred towards the fucker for what happened to their father. It was ultimately his insistence that punishment be issued for his queen's death that Jon Snow died in the original timeline. Justice was dealt out against the wrong person because this stupid, terrible man didn't demand justice against those who were truly responsible for why Queen Daenerys died. The only person Torrhen had ever seriously wanted to kill in his life was this man. And now to be stuck in the past in a place where he'd be forced to see Grey Worm every day before he made that stupid decision…

But that was only the primary reason as to why he hated this soldier. The other reason? That was much more important, at least to him. He didn't know how Lyaella had overlooked this matter when they learned what happened to their parents, but he would never talk to her about it. She'd already been shattered by everything they'd endured that horrible day four years ago. It'd been the worst day of their lives, and it only got worse later that same night. That little chat they accidentally overheard between their cruel aunts and uncle? Life changing moment. They learned everything that night. Everything that happened to their parents, how their relatives plotted their deaths, and the reasons they did what they did to their supposed-brother and the woman he loved… not to mention the cruelties they'd done to them, too.

As for Grey Worm… Torrhen had realized something else about the man when hearing Queen Sansa, Lady Arya, and King Bran talk. It only made him hate the man even more. But unless someone else realized it too, he'd never voice this out loud, not even in passing to Sōnar or Shadow. He'd never risk anyone finding out his other reason for hating the Commander of the Unsullied. If even one person knew, there was a chance that Lyaella might hear about it through the grapevine. He was the big brother, she was his little sister. He'd never let her fall to pieces from grief and self-pity should she figure it out.

Scowling to himself, Torrhen tossed the finished shin guards towards the other pieces and slowly got up, stretching his arms. Thank goodness those had been the last two pieces. He had to get away from this man right away. He'd promised Ser Barristan he'd try harder at controlling his temper from now on, and being near this son of a bitch was a surefire way to make him lose it.

It was a miracle he'd kept his anger from boiling over when his mother revealed Grey Worm's name. Regardless of his help in saving his life, Torrhen had no intention of changing his opinion of the man for what he'd done in the original timeline. Were it not for him and his stupidity, he and his sister would've been happier. Even if they were still treated like shit by the Starks and every other Northerner, they would've at least had their father. Having even one parent who loved them while growing up… things could've been so different for him, Lya, and their honorary siblings.

Actually, scratch that. They definitely would've been different. They would've grown up in his care, happy and carefree just like other children. Not stuck with their cold, heartless aunts and unfeeling uncle. Maybe in another timeline they could've had that life. Torrhen doubted he and Lyaella would've been nearly as hateful and bitter about the Starks like they were now. Probably a little bitter at least if their schemes still resulted in their mother's death… but depending how often they saw their relatives and how the Starks treated them in return, perhaps they could've have grown to like them. Maybe they would've forgiven them for their selfish plot for power. But that would never happen in this reality. He and his sister could not and would never forgive them. Not now, not ever. Not even if all three fell to their knees and begged for forgiveness. Forgiveness just wasn't possible, not when they might do the same thing in this timeline as they did in the first one.

Hence why Grey Worm was equally at fault. Were it not for him, things could've been different. Stupid brainless fuck.

Pointedly ignoring the injured soldier, Torrhen tossed aside the rag and gathered up the scattered pieces of armor. It was all quite heavy, but the boy made sure to keep a good firm grip on everything as he trudged across the training yard.

"Ser Barristan! Ser Barristan, I'm done!"

A smile tugged on Ser Barristan's lips as he saw him approach, and nodding a polite farewell to the soldier he'd been about to spar with, he motioned for Torrehn to follow him back to the sidelines with the armor pieces.

"Here you go, ser," he told the knight, passing him one of the shin guards. "Did I do okay?"

"Hmm," he murmured, eyes narrowed as he inspected it carefully. "I'd have to say… yes. Yes, you did a fine job, Torrhen."

"Really?"

"Indeed. Took you a little longer than I would have preferred, but you'll get better with time."

Torrhen's smile slowly faded away. "Wait… I'm gonna have to do this again? Right now?"

"No, no. Now you will assist me in helping me put on my armor, just as you'll help me later in removing it. But you will be cleaning my armor daily after training from now on, today only being the exception so I could see how well you did before being worn out from sparring."

"Oh," he mumbled, not daring to say more. Wonderful, simply wonderful. Was he still honored and happy to be a lowly squire? Oh yes, he was thrilled.

"Very good. Now, if you'll kindly help me suit up, we can finally get started."

It took a few minutes, but at last Ser Barristan was ready and nodded to Torrhen to go find some basic armor to use for himself. Finding a basic chest plate his size, Torrhen strapped it on and hurried back to the knight.

He grinned eagerly. "Ready when you are, ser!"

"Just a moment, Torrhen. You forgot something."

"Huh?"

Patting his shoulder, Ser Barristan marched back over to the armory and rummaged about. It took him a few seconds, but finally he found what he was looking for and turned back around.

"Here, mustn't forget this," he chortled, passing the boy a small shield his size, it's metal surface heavily scratched and dented in several places. "No good knight forgets either his sword or shield."

Torrhen blinked at Ser Barristan, then promptly shook his head. "I didn't forget, Ser Barristan. I didn't grab a shield on purpose," he said, trying to pass it back.

Waving away the offered item, Ser Barristan tilted his head, puzzled. "I beg your pardon, Torrhen?"

"I don't use a shield. I'm a Northerner. We hardly ever train with them."

"Oh, that's right. I forgot that fact. Well, from now on you'll have to grow accustomed to using one, Torrhen. A good shield can offer a great deal of protection when you really need it. I find it a thousand times more important than a sword alone."

"What, really?"

"Of course. Sometimes, the best offense in a fight is a strong defense. Now, come along. I want to get a better idea on what your skill level is."

Torrhen nodded, eagerly trailing behind. Finally, Ser Barristan was going to train him. The knight that had served both his maternal uncle and paternal grandfather Rhaegar Targaryen was going to train him to fight. Were it not for how awkward and heavy the shield felt strapped to his arm, he could've jumped for joy.

Moving to the sparring area, the other Unsullied who'd been practicing all this time paused and glanced over curiously at the pair, intrigued to see how skilled Torrhen Snow was. Even on the sidelines, Shadow stood up with a slight yawn and trotted closer to keep an eye on his boy, and Grey Worm moved to another barrel to get a better view. Torrhen did his best to tune them all out and keep his attention on Ser Barristan alone. Despite his short temper, he wanted to show Ser Barristan that he was a strong, capable of fighter and worthy of learning from him.

Drawing their swords, Torrhen waited for Ser Barristan to give the go ahead, and at his cue, he charged forward with his blade held high. Every swing of his sword the knight was easily able to counter, but aside from 'letting' Torrhen hit him once or twice, everyone could tell he was struggling. He hadn't been lying when he said he'd never used a sword and shield during training. More than once he mistimed a step due to the shields' weight throwing him off, and he'd barely have enough time to dodge or parry the next attack. It was less than five minutes before Ser Barristan broke through his defenses and had the tip of his blade under his chin.

"Y-Yield!" Torrhen gasped, panting heavily.

Ser Barristan nodded and stepped back. "Not bad, Torrhen. Not bad at all."

Sheathing his training sword to undo the straps of the shield, Torrhen cocked his head at him, bewildered. "Say that again?"

"Good first effort. Could've gone better, but still not bad."

"You're kidding, right? I was almost as bad as Lyaella with a blade right now, and she's awful for a beginner. This shield is so weird to me. If I wasn't using it, I'd be doing loads better!"

"All the more reason you should keep practicing with it, Torrhen," he chuckled. "I'll see how you do when fighting with a sword alone another time. For now, we must get you accustomed to using a shield and increasing your speed."

Torrhen blinked. "My speed?"

"Of course, there's a great deal that must be taken into account during battle, Torrhen. You can't rely on brute force and strength alone if you hope to win."

"I… I can't?"

"No, you can't. You must learn to read your opponent as you fight, predict their next moves before they even think about it. Imagine if you were fighting with somebody and they suddenly feinted left, but then attacked you from the right. The stronger swordsman does not necessarily win the end. It is speed! Speed of hand!" he suddenly whirled around, his blade a silver blur as he swung it against a nearby practice target. Torrhen started to gasp in awe, but then the knight spun around to point it back to him, the sharp tip only a few inches away from his chest. The boy yelped and leapt back, alarmed. Ser Barristan smiled, lowering it a few moments later and tapping his temple. "Speed of mind."

Torrhen frowned. "If that's true, then why make me use a shield? It's heavy, so it slows me down."

He chuckled, amused. "If you weren't using it, you wouldn't be able to build up the muscles in your arm to grow accustomed to it, nor would you be able to train yourself to move faster when using it."

"Oh…"

"Keep arm firm in front of body, all the time," said a familiar, heavily accented voice. "Think of it stiff as sword."

Torrhen whipped around, brows already furrowing. Grey Worm was slowly approaching from the sidelines, hand pressed firmly against his bandages to relieve his pain.

He clenched his teeth and pointedly looked away. "What was that?" he grumbled, focusing back on the honorable knight.

"Shield arm," Grey Worm clarified, stopping in front of the knight and squire. "It feels heavier when arm droops. Keep shield arm steady, strong. Helps."

"I'm doing just fine, thank you," Torrhen spat, his tone quite vicious. "I don't need your help."

Grey Worm blinked, surprised, but Torrhen didn't give too shits what he thought. He would never show the Commander of the Unsullied any form of respect. Never.

"Now, now, Torrhen," said Ser Barristan, giving him a pointed look. "Any good swordsman knows they should always listen to whatever advice more experienced warriors are willing to give."

"I'm here training under you, though. You're the legendary Barristan Selmy," he countered. "I'm following your advice."

"Yes, but it took me years of training and learning from other skilled warriors to become as good as I am today. I didn't learn everything I know from only one teacher. It's unwise to turn away advice from others when it's being offered."

Torrhen's blood boiled, and he squeezed the pommel of his training sword even tighter. Why was Ser Barristan doing to him? Couldn't he tell that he didn't want to be anywhere near Grey Worm? His hatred of the eunuch was completely different from his annoyance with Daario and short temper overall. He couldn't stand the man, and the last thing he wanted was take fighting advice from him.

Still, he was only a lowly squire, and he had to do whatever Ser Barristan asked of him. Huffing hotly, he the knight an icy look before moving his shield arm directly in front of him and making it stiff and firm.

Grey Worm tried to nudge his shield lightly with his hand, and nodded in approval when it didn't move. "Good. Keep strong and try again."

Torrhen said nothing, sinking down into a ready stance without even looking at him.

Ser Barristan frowned at his deliberate rudeness. "Aren't you going to thank Commander Grey Worm for sharing his advice with you?"

"Why bother? I never asked for it."

"Torrhen Snow."

"What?"

The knight's eyes narrowed, now feeling a bit angry himself. "I thought we agreed that the path to honor does not involve treating others so rudely or disrespectfully, Torrhen. Thank Grey Worm for his help."

There was a long pause, then finally the boy turned, his face hardened and dark.

"Thanks…"

"It… It no trouble," said Grey Worm, visibly confused by his attitude.

Not wanting to think about the Unsullied eunuch any longer, Torrhen turned back to Ser Barristan, ready to spar again. And spar they did. To The boy's delight, he had a somewhat easier time handling the shield this time around, but it still irked him that it was Grey Worm of all people who gave him that tip. He still had a long way to go to become as skilled as Ser Barristan in swordplay, but he was already doing loads better.

"Better, Torrhen. You held out longer, this time."

"Aye, thank you, Ser Barristan."

They kept at it for a while, Ser Barristan occasionally stopping and offering pointers to the boy or correcting him if he made a mistake. Grey Worm stayed close by, fluctuating his time between giving tips on how to properly use his shield and yelling out training drills in High Valyrian to the rest of the Unsullied that were training nearby.

Parrying a fast slash, Torrhen feinted left before swiftly swinging his blade from the right. Ser Barristan easily stepped out of range and with a few well-timed attacks, Torrhen was disarmed and knocked to the ground. "Yield?"

Torrhen groaned, reluctantly nodding. "Aye, yield," he grumbled, standing and dusting the hot sand off himself then collecting his sword. "This is hard…"

"Nothing ever comes easy in life, Torrhen. Anyone who says otherwise doesn't know the value of hard work and determination."

"Aye, I know. Doesn't make it any less exhausting, though."

Ser Barristan chuckled. "True, very true. We should stop for awhile."

"What, already? No way! I can still go a bit longer."

"Oh, I didn't mean we stop training completely for today. I simply meant we should move on to training with a new weapon now."

"A new weapon? Really? Should I put away this shield, then?"

"No, keep the shield. You'll need it for sure."

Torrhen was beyond confused, but he did as was asked and sheathed his sword again. When he focused back on Ser Barristan, he saw he was heading back over to a weapons rack, and sifting amongst the spears propped up until he found one slightly smaller than the others.

"Here, try this."

"What?"

"Take it, see if the weight is good. You'll be learning from Grey Worm directly, now."

"What?! Why?!"

"It's good to be versed in more than one type of weapon, Torrhen. That is one of my greatest regrets from when I was younger, never familiarizing myself with other weapons aside from my sword and occasionally a good bow and arrow."

"But why a spear? Can't you teach me how to use a bow instead?"

"I intend to teach you how to use a bow, Torrhen. Just not today. Now, see if you like the weight of the spear."

With furrowed brows, Torrhen hesitantly took the spear and weighed it carefully between his palms. He had never once used a spear before, so he had no idea if this was either too heavy with its completely metal design, or too light with how easily he could hold it in one hand alone. Still, it seemed comfortable enough. "It's fine."

Ser Barristan nodded. "Good, then pay attention to whatever Grey Worm tells you."

Squeezing the spear tightly to suppress the urge to growl, Torrhen turned to the Unsullied Commander, his expression quite fixed.

If Grey Worm noticed his displeasure, he made no visible sign of it. Instead, he glanced down at Torrhen's feet and shook his head. "Feet wrong. Keep one in front of other, shoulder length apart."

Torrhen rolled his eyes, but still kept his mouth shut as he adjusted his stance.

"Spear always in dominant hand. Hold with thumb facing up, fingers spread apart. Spear tip points to sky when not using, otherwise accidents happen."

He huffed, but swapped the spear to his other hand and tilted it upward. This was so stupid. He didn't even want to learn how to use a spear, yet he was being forced to learn anyway, and with Grey Worm of all people as his instructor. Couldn't Ser Barristan have at least asked any other Unsullied to handle this lesson?

Grey Worm nodded in approval, then waved another soldier to come over. Murmuring something quietly to the fellow Unsullied in High Valyrian, the officer passed his spear to his superior then hurried to drag a nearby training dummy a bit closer to where they were at. Returning the spear to the soldier, Grey Worm turned back to Torrhen. "Watch carefully, Torrhen. He demonstrate attacks and holding spear in both hands."

Torrhen turned to watch, his face sour. The soldier showed off several different ways to attack someone with a spear, including backing away and throwing it directly at the target from a few yards off, the sharp tip impaling the training dummy right through the heart and coming out clean through the other side.

Torrhen's brows shot up before he could stop himself. "Wow…"

"Yes, impressive, no?" Grey Worm chuckled. "Unsullied start training with spear since younger than you. You lucky to learn from us, boy."

Torrhen tensed, then gruffly shrugged. "Maybe. I guess so…" he grumbled. Grey Worm frowned, looking very puzzled at his attitude while Ser Barristan narrowed his eyes, but Torrhen made sure not to look at either of them as he stepped past them to the practice dummy. Adjusting the spear, he tried to do a basic thrust. The spear felt so… unnaturally long in his hand, and his thrust missed its target completely. Instead of sinking into the dummy's chest, it grazed its right side instead.

He scowled at his lack of aim, but as he prepared to try again, a hand fell on his shoulder, halting him before he could.

"It easy to think thrust simple, but don't do like sword thrust. Spear thinner than blade, so move forward fast and straight. Don't curve like sword thrust up or down."

"Okay, okay, already! Give me a chance to figure it out on my own!"

"Torrhen!"

"Well, someone certainly woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. You sure you chose well when you picked that boy to be your squire, Lord Knight?"

Today just really wasn't his day, was it? If it were, there was no way he'd already be so close to completely losing it before it was even close to midday. Spinning away from the confused soldier and displeased knight, Torrhen whipped around to shoot a certain arrogant sellsword the nastiest glare he could. "Say that again, Daario! Come on, I dare you!"

Daario chuckled, twirling a knife with a decorative golden hilt between his fingers as he strutted towards them. "Which part? Asking the knight here if he regrets plucking you out of all the street rats in this lovely city, or that you woke up on the wrong side of the bed... not that you know what a bed is really for, little prince."

Ser Barristan and Grey Worm both shot him cold looks, but despite how Torrhen's sixth sense was telling him that he'd just been insulted, he couldn't help but furrow his brows in Daario didn't even notice his reaction since Ser Barristan and Grey Worm swiftly shot him hard looks.

Daario wasn't intimidated, though. "Oh, come on. I'm just messin' with him."

"He just boy. Don't talk like that."

"Right, and he thinks he's a long-lost Dragon Prince. He should know what to expect in the future. Though I don't know why you're defending him, Grey Worm. He's being ruder to you than I am of him."

"Captain Naharis, that's none of your concern. I shall punish my squire for his behavior as I see fit."

He openly laughed, idly tracing at the ornamental hilt on his knife with an odd smile. "How? You gonna make him do more boring knightly chores? That's nothing compared to the punishments the masters dished out to the slaves. Especially if they ever caught them playing with their families with their spears."

"Captain Naharis—"

"What're you talking about? What former masters let the freedmen play with spears?"

There was a distinct pause as the adults turned to him. Grey Worm gave him a surprisingly apologetic look before glaring daggers at Daario while Ser Barristan shut his eyes and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. Daario on the other hand simply blinked at him in bewilderment before bursting out laughing.

"Oh — you — you don't—!" he shook his head, cradling his stomach as he laughed even harder. "Oh, wow!"

Torrhen was clutching desperately to whatever wisps of patience and sanity he still had left, but everyone could tell that he was at the end of his rope. The boys' whole face was swelling a vivid shade of red, his shoulders quivering with suppressed rage. It took everything he had to not give in to his fury. Ser Barristan wanted him to act honorably towards others, even when they were disrespectful to him first. Grey Worm was one thing, but he had to at least try to control his temper around Daario... even when it was apparent the asshole was deliberately insulting him in ways the fucker knew he didn't understand.

"What — is — so — funny?" he growled.

Daario wiped away a stray tear. "You, Prince Snow. Simply 'cause you don't know how to use your own spear."

"Fuck off! You wanna see me use a spear?! Here! Watch me shove this down your—!"

"Enough!"

"Argh! Let go of me!" Torrhen struggled wildly, but Ser Barristan refused to release his tight grip on his upper arms. As much as he didn't like using the spear, he did everything he could to keep hold of it despite how Grey Worm pried his fingers off it. But the boy wasn't at all deterred. He wrestled as hard as he could to break free, never once letting his hateful gaze venture away from Daario's amused smirk. "Let go!"

Quick as a flash, he was suddenly spun around and nose to nose with Ser Barristan. "Torrhen, enough! Calm down!"

"Calm down?! Calm down?! But he's-!"

"No. This has gone on long enough." The knight pointed sharply to another training dummy on the other side of the courtyard, not daring to break his harsh gaze with his hysterical squire. "Go practice over over there."

"What?! Why should—?!"

"Not another word. Your behavior is unacceptable, and I'll be informing the queen and Lady Missandei that you're not to receive dinner tonight as punishment. Go practice over there. Now."

Torrhen fumed at the injustice of everything, his face so red it looked like it would explode. Everything had already gone so wrong today, and it wasn't even sundown yet. He wanted to yell even louder, to punch that cocky smirk off that fucking sellswords' face as he watched him be reprimanded. And the way Grey Worm was staring at him in absolute bewilderment? Five seconds was all he needed to break away from Ser Barristan and whip out his sword to disembowel him. Why couldn't Ser Barristan see that these two assholes were the only ones who deserved to be treated the way he treated them?

Snarling viciously, he wrenched himself free from Ser Barristan's grasp and stormed across the courtyard to the other training dummy. Other Unsullied who were training stopped momentarily to stare at him as he passed, but Torrhen was past the point of noticing. Glancing away only once to whistle Shadow over to come join him, he yanked out his sword and swung the blade at the target without breaking his fast stride.

With every swing of his training sword, Torrhen vented out his rage, his head pounding with every hit. It felt good to let it all out, to literally beat out his frustration on something instead of bottling it in. Keeping his anger in check like his mentor wanted him too only seemed to make his inevitable 'snap' ten times worse than normal. He needed this. He needed to hit this stupid training dummy so hard, it would be useless for future training sessions. So long as he struck this stupid thing for as long as it took him to get out this roar of rage inside him instead of using his sword on that damn Daario and Grey Worm, he could deal with this. He could ignore the dull throb slowly ebbing its way throughout his skull and keep directing his anger at the training dummy instead of the real sources of his fury and hatred.

He couldn't control his short temper, that was undeniable. But he still wanted to grow up as honorable as his father and even Ser Barristan. There was no chance in all seven hells that he would ever let himself become known as The Mad Prince.

No way, no how.

He waited until his squire was fully focused on attacking the training dummy before rounding on the Commander of the Second Sons. "Captain Naharis, was all that really necessary?"

"Aw, come on. It's just a bit of innocent fun."

"Maybe to you, but I'm trying to teach Torrhen to control his temper. You riling him up like that isn't helpful."

"No? I'd say it's plenty helpful. If the little prince can't handle me teasing him, I'd hate to see how he'd react if a Harpy goaded him on."

Ser Barristan sighed, his patience running thin. He had never been particularly fond of Daario Naharis from the moment he met him prior to the siege of Yunkai, but he couldn't deny the man's loyalty to their queen, even if it was for the wrong reasons. These days though there was a small part of him that wished that Daenerys would officially part ways with the sellswords currently in her employ once and for all, especially after everything Torrhen had revealed regarding how they wouldn't listen to him when he first tried to meet her.

Glancing back over to Torrhen still furiously swinging his sword, he pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. "Perhaps later on when he has learned a bit of control over his emotions I'll agree with you then. But right now, Torrhen needs to understand that his attitude must stop, and the best way that can happen is if there's as few triggers around him to make him angry as possible. So with all due respect, Captain Naharis, please stop antagonizing my squire."

Daario scoffed, grinning cheerily as he waved away his words. "It's not like I was the only one riling him up. I just teased him a little, but I've no clue what that brat's problem was with your fellow instructor here."

Barristan paused. Regardless of his personal feelings towards the sellsword, Daario had a point this time. He glanced over to Grey Worm, schooling his face into a carefully neutral expression. The soldier didn't even notice his stare. He kept his eyes locked solely on Torrhen across the training field, studying him intensely.

Sighing heavily again, Barristan hesitantly patted Grey Worm's shoulder to get his attention. "I don't know what possessed my squire to act so deplorably to you, Grey Worm, but I assure you he will apologize wholeheartedly for his behavior later, when he's calmed down. I will definitely have words with him about how he spoke to you."

"It is fine, Ser Barristan."

"No, it's not. I don't like how he let his anger get the better of him when Commander Naharis was deliberately antagonizing him, but I understood why he lost his temper. There's no excuse though for how he acted towards you. He will apologize if he wishes to stay my squire."

He nodded, but Barristan could tell that Grey Worm was doubtful that such an apology would actually happen. Resisting the urge to glance back over at his furious young squire, Barristan forced himself to keep his focus on the Unsullied leader. "I don't know what I do to make boy angry. I there in alleyway, saved him from Harpy."

"Yes, I know. It's strange that he's not being very receptive towards you…"

"You not know either, Ser Barristan?"

He shook his head. "No, but I wish I did. I was only going to have him learn the basics in spears today and have him focus more on using both a shield and sword in the future, but now I have no choice but to have you train him spears."

"Ser?"

"Whatever his problem is with you, Grey Worm, Torrhen needs to learn to get over it. He has to follow your example as one of her grace's most trusted advisers as well as commander of the Unsullied. The only way that will happen is if he learns to control his temper around you. The more time he spends learning from you, the better, I say."

Daario snorted, not even trying to mask his amusement. "Oh, you do, do you? Didn't you just say you wanted the little prince to not be around any triggers for his anger problems?"

"This is different, Captain Naharis. I'll admit he will have to learn to be respectful of you and your men soon enough, but right now my main focus is making sure Torrhen is aware that there will be repercussions from now on if he continues behaving this way. However, there's a difference between punishing him when he acts up all on his own and when he only behaves as such because someone was deliberately antagonizing him."

"You honestly believe that?"

"Of course."

Daario smirked, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly. "Well, here's a tip in street smarts for you, great knight: the world is a shitty place. Honor gets you killed, so better to do what you want, when you want to rather than wait around acting like a perfect little Westerosi lord for people to appreciate your good manners."

Barristan narrowed his eyes, his own temper now rising. "If that's what you believe, Captain Naharis, then fine. Every man is entitled to his own opinions. But I am a knight. I served as kingsguard to her grace's father and late brother, and now queensguard to her. I will have Torrhen learn the values of patience and respect to others so he too can become a great knight one day if he so desires. But if you truly believe that that line of thinking is correct, then I shall not trouble you with asking for your assistance in teach Torrhen from now on. I would much rather have him learn how to become a superb fighter and honorable soldier from myself and Grey Worm than have him be instructed incorrectly and go down the wrong path by you or one of your men."

"Fine, fine. Whatever you say, old man."

"I would also ask that you not—"

"Quiet. Both of you."

The knight and sellsword both blinked, turning to Grey Worm in surprise. Grey Worm didn't meet their gazes, though. His eyes were focused on the ground for some reason, his brows pinched and expression rather puzzled.

Barristan couldn't help but tilt his head, befuddled. "I beg your pardon?"

"What was that?" echoed Daario, huffing with annoyance. "You got a problem with us or—"

"Shush!" he snapped, swiping his hand to reiterate. "Listen!"

Barristan was still lost as to what Grey Worm was hearing, but he swallowed his questions and listened carefully to their surroundings, and for once, Daario held his tongue and did the same. However, the knight couldn't hear anything out of the ordinary. Aside from the shuffling footfalls of the other Unsullied marching away from the training yard to switch out with the other soldiers who were getting off patrol, all seemed fine. There was nothing unusual about the daily hubbub in the pyramid courtyard at all.

He couldn't help but shake his head as he glanced back at the stoic soldier. "What's the matter? Everything sounds fine. Peaceful, even."

"Exactly," said Grey Worm, finally meeting his gaze. "It's quiet. Too quiet. Where sword training sounds from boy? Why stop? Why no angry muttering?"

The knight jerked, and from the corner of his eye, he saw Daario do the same. Now that he thought about it, it was too quiet compared to when Torrhen initially stormed off. When exactly had he stopped swinging his sword at the training target? When had he stopped mumbling curses under his breath in his haze of rage? Did he leave the courtyard without saying anything? He was in big trouble if he did. He told him to go train by himself so he could calm down — if he took that as an excuse to ditch training all together, he'd be adding one more squire duty to list of daily chores from now on. He hadn't planned for Torrhen to visit the stables and muck out the manure unless Daenerys planned for a visit into the city and he needed his horse to be readied in advance, but perhaps that would help build character in the boy. His bad behavior needed to stop, especially since he was of Targaryen descent even though her grace didn't fully believe that yet.

Barristan spun around, ready to march back into the Great Pyramid and find his squire to drag him to the stables, but then he stopped, all thoughts of strict discipline vanishing from his mind.

Torrhen hadn't blown off his training out of spite. He was still in the courtyard, facing the practice dummy. His back was to the three of them as it had been when he first started slashing at the target, so he wasn't deliberately ignoring them, but unlike before when he'd been swinging his training sword furiously at the target while spitting insults under his breath, he wasn't anymore. He… He wasn't doing anything, actually. He held his sword swung back behind him with his whole body reeled back, ready to strike the cloth stuffing in the dummy attached to the wooden post, but that was it. He didn't finish the attack. He was just… standing there in that ready position, not finishing the attack. Moreover, his wolf had even gotten up from its shady spot and was nudging his snout against his leg, urging him to move. But Torrhen didn't budge, neither finishing the fast slash nor even brushing Shadow away from him. He just stood there, ignoring his friend.

Barristan blinked, then pointedly cleared his throat. "Torrhen? Everything all right?"

There was no answer, nor did Torrhen turn to acknowledge him.

"Torrhen, I do not appreciate you ignoring me. What's going on?"

He still didn't respond or move.

He ran a hand over his face, fighting back a lengthy sigh. "If you're upset about me scolding you, you know I told you the other night that I'd be tough on you. I take no pleasure in scolding you, Torrhen, but unless you wish to have more chores added to your daily schedule and want to have dinner tonight, turn around answer me. Now."

But Torrhen didn't. He just kept standing there, frozen in place with his sword raised high.

Daario chuckled, folding his arms behind his head. "You sure you don't need to give him a lecture rather than me? I don't deny being arrogant, but at least I don't ignore people."

"That's enough, Captain Naharis. Torrhen, come here! Now!"

The wind lightly tousled his dark curls, but Torrhen still didn't move. He didn't so much as flinch at the arrogant comment or the sharp demand from the knight.

Barristan blinked, exchanging a quick look with Grey Worm. It was one thing if Torrhen was being deliberately stubborn out of spite for how he scolded him before, but the boy had a short temper and hadn't let Daario's prior snarky comments go unanswered up to this point. Why exactly was he ignoring Daario this time as well as his commands?

"Boy? Boy, come here, please," Grey Worm called out. "We want to talk… Boy?"

"Torrhen? Can you hear us?" Barristan asked, confusion replacing his previous anger as he slowly approached his squire. "Why won't you—?"

"—what he deserves, arrogant scum!" Slash! "And then I'll — woah!"

Barristan jerked as Torrhen seemingly sprung back to life out of nowhere, rambling mid-sentence as though he'd been cut off before while finally swinging his sword at the target. That was odd enough by itself, but even stranger still, Torrhen seemed to get dizzy all of a sudden and teetered forward. He barely managed to drop his sword in time before crashing right on top of the training dummy and toppling with it to the ground.

"Torrhen!"

"Boy, you hurt?!"

"Fucking hell! You okay?!"

The trio raced over, and even other Unsullied who'd been mingling about idly in the courtyard dropped everything and rushed to see if he was okay. Shadow was whining in alarm, pawing the ground restlessly as Torrhen moaned, untangling himself from the knocked over target as he slowly sat up. Clutching his head with one hand, he felt around idly for his friend with his eyes screwed shut.

"Argh…! Fuck! Seven fucking hells…!" he groaned. "Ow!"

Shadow butted his arm, wiggling his furry head beneath it to pepper his boys' face in worried licks.

"S-Stop that, boy! Please…! No, no kisses!" Torrhen moaned, shoving away his friend and massaging his temples. "Damn. Damn it all…"

"Torrhen, are you all right?" Barristan asked, quickly squatting down and checking him over for injuries. "Did you hurt yourself?"

"Hit your head?" Grey Worm guessed, very concerned. "You dizzy?"

He slowly opened his eyes and looked around, then shook his head, but he couldn't suppress a slight wince from the sudden movement. "No…"

Grey Worm wasn't entirely satisfied, though. "How many fingers I hold up?" he asked, bringing his hand in front of Torrhen's face.

Despite his discomfort, he could still scowl. "Ugh, three!" he snapped, batting his hand away. "I don't have another cunshy-thing!"

"Con-cussion, Torrhen. And you can't blame Grey Worm for thinking that," Barristan chided, standing and offering Torrhen his hand. "It's only natural to think you hurt your head again with how you're clutching at it right now."

Torrhen rolled his eyes, only to quickly snap them shut again when he happened to catch a glimpse of the midday sun. Kneading his forehead, he reached out randomly until he found his mentor's hand and let him pull him up to his feet. The boy swayed a bit at first when he was finally up, but with a small head shake he regained his bearings and slowly cracked his eyes open before blinking repeatedly. "I'm okay, I didn't hit my head. I just have a — ah!" he moaned, rubbing his head harder. "—a headache."

"A headache? How bad?"

"Ugh, bad. It feels… It feels like someone's trying to whack me over the head over and over again…"

Daario snorted. "That could be arranged, you know. Say the word, Little Prince, and I'll have all the Second Sons ready to hit you, if you want."

Torrhen threw him a cold glare. "Don't call me a prince, and no. Who in hell would want people to do that for them?"

"No one, but in your case, I'd say it's necessary. Maybe a few good smacks will knock down that attitude of yours."

"Speak for yourself, asshole!"

"Enough," Barristan interrupted. Sending Daario a sharp look to hold his tongue for the moment, he turned back to Torrhen. "Do you need to go lie down, Torrhen? We could send for a healer, if you want."

"No, that's not necessary."

"Are you sure? Concussions can be serious even when people think they're fully healed."

Torrhen shook his head, still clutching his scalp with one hand, and absentmindedly stroking Shadow's neck to calm him with the other. "No, I'm fine, ser. I'm used to getting headaches sometimes after my fire flickers."

Grey Worm cocked his head, puzzled. "Fire flicker?"

Torrhen immediately froze, his fingers stilling in his wolfs' fur. He pressed his lips together tightly, staring straight ahead at a few soldiers who were curiously watching them. "Aye," he said stiffly, refusing to meet his gaze.

"What… What do you mean?" Barristan asked, equally confused. "What fire flicker?"

"…I don't wanna talk about it. If you don't mind, I think I will go lie down like you suggested, Ser Barristan. 'Scuse me."

Swiping his sword out of the dirt, Torrhen shoved it back into its sheathe before whistling to his wolf to follow him before speed walking to the armory to remove the spare armor he was wearing. Barristan wanted to follow him, but the lad was already removing his armor while walking and had everything returned to their proper places on the shelves before he could even gather his thoughts together. Within less than ten seconds, he and Shadow were hurrying inside the pyramid, not daring to look back and meet anyone's gazes.

Barristan Selmy was utterly baffled. He might not know Torrhen well yet, but one thing he did know about that boy was that he didn't generally avoid explanations like this — at least not without deliberately stating that he didn't want to talk about something. Why had he suddenly run off like that? And why did he get so dizzy and suffer from a splitting headache after just standing still like a statue during the middle of training a few minutes ago? It almost reminded him of how the boy froze up during the middle of that fight with the Sons of the Harpy's back in that alleyway. At the time, he assumed Torrhen simply hesitated in the middle of the fight out of fear of potentially taking a life for the first time. Now, though? He wasn't so sure anymore. What was going on with his new squire?

There was brief silence for several seconds as everyone absorbed his sudden departure, but finally a humorless snort broke the tension in the air. "Well, I think it's safe to say you've got terrible judgment when it comes to picking good squires, oh great knight."

He furrowed his brows, turning to Daario with a distinct frown. "Come again, Captain Naharis?"

He smirked, jerking his head towards Torrhen and Shadow as they vanished through the archway entrance. "I stand by what I told our lovely queen before. That boy's obviously a liar, but now I also believe he's downright crazy, even if not Targaryen-bred crazy."

"What?!" the knight demanded, eyes flashing dangerously. "How dare you suggest such a thing!"

Daario threw back his head and laughed. "How dare I? I don't know how you can't be thinking that after all this. You saw him just now, refusing to acknowledge you and then acting all confused when he finally stopped pretending to listen. Crazy. Just plain crazy…" he chortled, lightly shaking his head. "It's just like that day in the reception hall…"

Grey Worm jerked. "Reception hall? What you mean?"

"He did the same thing when I first met him," Daario shrugged. "He got pissed when I had one of my men cart him out, started screaming at me. Out of nowhere he just cut himself off in the middle of his ranting and went silent. My men told me later he started yelling again right as they threw him out."

"Wait… are you implying that he's done this before? Freeze up like that without warning?"

"Yeah, and then he pretends that he wasn't even aware of how long he was out of it. Insane, that's what he is. Insane in the head."

Ignoring the flabbergasted stares on Barristan and Grey Worm's faces, Daario chortled to himself as he strutted off. The pair let him, though. Quick glances to each other revealed mirrored looks of worry.

Barristan's throat bobbed. "Grey Worm, do you remember the fight in the alley?"

"Yes, I remember. Why?"

He sucked in a breath, glancing back to the training dummy his squire had been using before. "You… You recall how Torrhen simply… well, stopped in the middle of the fight for a few moments?"

Grey Worm nodded, pensive. "Yes. Seemed like now, him frozen."

"I was thinking the same. However, I didn't get a good look at him during that fight. Did you?"

"What?"

"The healer that checked him over before, he asked about how Torrhen looked when that happened. I don't know why, but I couldn't give him a straight answer since I couldn't see his face at the time. Did you see what he looked like?"

Grey Worm blinked, then promptly shut his eyes, thinking hard. After several long seconds, he finally shook his head. "No, I kill last Harpy at time. I just won when I saw boy hit head and scream. I go help, but like I told you, I thought he froze out of fear back then. Now? I don't know…"

Barristan sighed. "That makes two of us, then. The healer seemed worried when I was explaining that."

"Why?"

"I have no idea…"

Grey Worm frowned, then slowly glanced over at the entrance back into the Great Pyramid. "I don't know why boy stop like that, but… but I don't think he do it on purpose. He seemed confused by it."

"Yes, yes he does… but I get the feeling he knows that it happened. If he does, why did it happen at all?"

Silence overcame them as neither could think up a logical answer to that question. Torrhen Snow had serious anger management problems, but it seemed he had additional issues as well. Strict discipline was required to temper out that attitude of his, but whatever else was going on with that boy needed a different approach to understand and address. They didn't understand it yet, but it was clear Torrhen needed help. Otherwise—

Barristan shook his head, a muscle growing taut in his cheek. He wasn't going to finish that thought. Not for anything. Torrhen might have problems and needed guidance, but the young boy he'd met in the marketplace had shown no signs whatsoever of being mad or dangerous. Even though Daenerys didn't believe it yet, Barristan knew Torrhen resembled her late brother far too much for it to be a coincidence. And his singing while playing his lute! Had he only had silver hair and switched the lute for a harp, the knight suspected he'd be the spitting image of Rhaegar as a child. Torrhen was directly related to the late prince in some way, he was sure of it. He had to get that boy to open up to him more and trust him enough to reveal his parents names. Once he knew that, he'd be able to convince the queen he was telling the truth.

But in the meantime, he had to help Torrhen however he could. He'd assumed teaching him to control his temper and training him to be a strong warrior was the best way to go about this, but this new development was a whole matter. The boy seemed aware of his problem, but he didn't want to talk about it. Why? What was wrong with him?

Steeling his resolve, Barristan murmured a quick farewell to Grey Worm and headed to the archway. Her grace needed to be informed of everything that happened just now. Whatever was going with Torrhen, she should be aware of it. But before that, he had to catch up to his squire and give him one last task to carry out right now in accordance to his training. Even if he got annoyed about it, there was no excuse for him to not do this, as he could stay in his solar the entire time and not be bothered at all.

The boy needed to control his temper if there was to be any chance at all in him growing up to be a strong, honorable man someday. If scolding Torrhen and threatening to punish him weren't cutting it, perhaps a different approach was required.

A far more relaxing, yet to Torrhen would be a rather boring approach.

He'd just turned down the second hallway when he spotted the boy and his wolf approaching the stairs. "Torrhen, wait a moment."

Torrhen paused, turning to sigh at him with great exaggeration. "Yes, Ser Barristan?" he mumbled.

"I have one more thing I would like you to do right now," the knight smiled, trying not to chuckle. "It's very important."

"Ugh… seriously?" he groaned, slumping over. "Can't I have just a little break?"

"Oh, this won't be strenuous in the slightest. You can carry out in your chambers if you wish. You won't even have to move at all."

The boy blinked, immediately perking up. "Really? Okay, then. What is it?"

Barristan's eyes twinkled. "I want you to practice a technique I learned from a sellsword in the Stepstones. The art of maintaining calmness and tranquility at all times."