Playing the Game (Game of Thrones)

As the Dothraki Leaders are led into the open meeting area, Missandei of Naath presses her lips together thinly. They aren’t exactly what she’s expecting. Well, no, that’s not quite right. A few of them look like the dark-skinned slave woman is expecting a Dothraki Khal to look. But they all defer to the same young man. A pale man, with grey eyes and pitch black hair.
 
This is the one they call Khal Jhono, it has to be. This is the one they are calling the Khal of Khals. He’s… nothing like Missandei had expected, truth be told. He’s young and handsome, but he carries himself with a confidence that she can’t help but admire. Perhaps if their situations were different, she may just have taken a fancy to him.
 
But she was the slave to the Good Master Kraznys mo Nakloz of Astapor. The very same man that the Khal of Khals was now here to treat with.
 
For a moment, silence falls as everyone takes the measure of each other. Then, Missandei’s master speaks, and she listens, expecting that she’ll have to interpret for him.
 
“Welcome, Khal of Khals, to the Great City of Astapor.”
 
It’s a little surprising, to hear her Master sound so… genial. But then, perhaps it is not, given what Missandei knows. There isn’t just an army camped outside of their walls. There are multiple. The Khal of Khals, by all accounts, has earned his title. He has united the Dothraki in a way that has never been done before. The Horse Lords no longer fight and squabble amongst themselves. They are not one unified force, and they have come to Slaver’s Bay and laid siege to the Meereen, Yunkai, and Astapor.
 
These are all things that, as a slave, Missandei does not truly need to know. She was not told them by her master or by any other Good Master. But she knows how to close her mouth and listen carefully. She hears things, and she keeps those things close to her chest to make sure no one knows she’s heard them.
 
Right away, Missandei can tell that her master was right to keep his tone… respectful. The woman at the Khal of Khals’ side, who Missandei had initially mistaken as a Lysene slave, steps forward and speaks right back in Low Valyrian.
 
“You stand not just before the Khal of Khals, Khal Jhono. You also stand before Jon of House Targaryen, Son of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen. You stand before the Rightful King of Westeros and the Blood of Old Valyria.”
 
Missandei is not a fool. She’s heard things. If he is who the violet-eyed woman says he is, then that makes her…
 
“And who are you then?”
 
The woman shoots a glance at the Khal of Khals after Kraznys asks his question, only for Khal Jhono to give her a soft smile and a nod. The look of love in his eyes takes Missandei’s breath away and confirms the Naathian Slave’s theory even before the woman herself does.
 
“I am Daenerys Stormborn, also of House Targaryen and the Blood of Old Valyria. I am Khaleesi to Khal Jhono as well as the Rightful Queen of Westeros.”
 
Missandei is feeling uniquely pointless, at the moment. Normally, she would be in the thick of things by now, acting as Master Kraznys’ interpreter. And not just translating, but literally interpreting the sorts of things he liked to say when he thought that his customers could not understand him. The Good Masters of Astapor were so very secure in their own superiority. To be frank, they had every right to be in Missandei’s experience.
 
It’s clear, however, that Daenerys Targaryen’s usurping of Missandei’s usual role has thrown her master for a loop. Although, the massive Dothraki Horde outside of Astapor’s walls had probably done the same thing. Missandei still wasn’t sure if Master Kraznys had pushed to be elected as the spokesman of the Good Masters for this meeting, or if he had been pushed into the role. If it was the former, she suspected he was beginning to regret it.
 
Bristling, but at the same time maintaining a polite veneer, Kraznys eyes the Targaryen woman for a long moment as he clearly (at least to someone as experienced with him as Missandei) has to take the time to formulate a response that won’t be insulting.
 
“Tell the Khal of Khals that Astapor is open to all buyers. We have many Unsullied here for sale, and I suspect you have the coin to pay for them.”
 
There’s a pause, in which Daenerys leans in towards Khal Jhono and murmurs to him, and he murmurs back. Missandei strains to hear, but she can’t pick up much of anything. The dirty look that her master gives her assures the dark-skinned slave that he blames her for her inadequacy here, despite the sheer impossibility of her being able to eavesdrop when they are whispering to each other twenty paces away.
 
It’s not her fault that the Khal of Khals has a Khaleesi who speaks Low Valyrian… but she suspects she will be punished for it later all the same.
 
“We are here for the Unsullied. But my Khal does not intend to pay with coin. You will give us your Unsullied, and we will allow Astapor to remain standing.”
 
Missandei’s eyes widen at the overt threat, and a tendril of fear rushes through her heart. What she had heard said that the Khal of Khals came to negotiate tribute in good faith. Obviously, her master was trying to make a sale before they got around to whatever tribute Astapor would have to pay. But now, it seemed that the very product they were trying to sell was what would be demanded as tribute.
 
It was surprising. The Dothraki had never had any need for Unsullied before. They were their own warriors, after all.
 

“… You can’t be serious.”
 
Master Kraznys’ incredulity is perfectly understandable, in Missandei’s humble opinion. But down below, the light-haired Khaleesi just smiles a razor-thin smile.
 
“Quite serious. We’ve already arranged the same with the Great Masters of Meereen and the Wise Masters of Yunkai. Meereen has agreed to provide my husband with the best of their fighting pits. Yunkai has agreed to provide us with ships. Astapor must do its part as well. Your Unsullied will do just nicely.”
 
The confidence is palpable. Missandei fully believes that the Khal of Khals could ransack and raise Astapor to the ground if he wanted to. Especially since the Good Masters have let him and so many of his Dothraki in, at this point. They’ve already effectively surrendered. Now, it isn’t really Missandei’s place to question her master or his peers… but perhaps they should have spent a little longer figuring out what the Dothraki wanted before they opened the gates.
 
Regardless, it’s understandable why Master Kraznys is having such trouble finding his voice. Missandei watches as Daenerys continues on after a moment, when it becomes clear the Good Master isn’t sure what to say.
 
“I assume you’ve heard the old Dothraki Legend about the Stallion Who Mounts the World. When you heard that the Khal of Khals had come to Slaver’s Bay, did you really think we were here for simple tribute? The Good Masters of Astapor will submit the same as your peers in Meereen and Yunkai have already done… or you will all die.”
 
She says it so matter-of-factly. For a moment, as her master bristles, Missandei fears that a fight will break out. The Dothraki and their Khal of Khals certainly seem ready for it, hands on their blades. Perhaps they shouldn’t have been allowed to bring weapons into the city, but it seemed the Good Masters had made a lot of mistakes.
 
Is she about to die? Is this where it ends, with her blowhard of a Master getting himself and everyone else here killed as the Dothraki ransack the city?
 
But no, a moment later the fight goes out of Master Kraznys and he slumps back in his seat, waving a hand and speaking in a subdued tone.
 
“Very well. The Unsullied will be yours.”
 
There’s a brief pause in which Daenerys and her husband confer once again, while Missandei still stands with her heart pounding in her chest, unsure what’s to happen next. And then…
 
“Very good. Begin preparations at once. My husband wishes to set sail for Westeros within the week.”
 
It’s a peace offering, Missandei immediately recognizes. And so does her master, who perks up and looks suddenly almost happy. All of it… it makes sense, doesn’t it? The introductions had made clear that this Khal of Khals was intending to conquer Westeros. After all, he thought himself their rightful king. Which meant he couldn’t stick around Slaver’s Bay, now could he?
 
And yet, even as Master Kraznys seems all too eager to get things together and be rid of them, Missandei can’t help but feel a sense of foreboding. Something about all of this struck her as odd. Perhaps it was because she’d been able to sit back and observe rather than having to use all of her mental power on interpreting, but… something wasn’t right.
 
-x-X-x-
 
“They are yours, Khal of Khals. Take them and your armies and leave us in peace.”
 
As Kraznys mo Nakloz shoves the harpy’s fingers into Khal Jhono’s hands, Missandei’s breath hitches. That sense of foreboding doesn’t leave her, even as the Khal of Khals turns the whip over, looking at it. The handle is made of black dragonbone, presumable, and elaborately carved and inlaid with gold. The pommel is a woman’s head with pointed ivory teeth, a harpy. The transfer of the whip signified the transfer of the Unsullied into the Khal of Khal’s hands.
 
Eight thousand Unsullied were lined up behind all of them. Astapor’s entire current crop, given to the Dothraki in order to appease the horde camped both out and now INSIDE their walls. In the end, the Good Masters had no choice. It was either fight to the last or give up and live another day. Of course, her Master and the others were going to choose what they did.
 
Still… still…
 
Missandei watches as Khal Jhono hands the harpy’s fingers to Daenerys, speaking to her in common tongue with a soft smile on his lips.
 
“You do the honors, love. It was your plan, after all.”
 
Missandei feels her master’s eyes upon her, him expecting her to translate. But she can only stare, transfixed. Daenerys, for all her confidence the other day, grows shy and embarrassed under her husband’s praise.
 
“Are… a-are you sure?”
 
Chuckling, the Khal of Khals gently closes Daenerys’s pale fingers over the black dragonbone handle.
 
“I’m quite sure.”
 
“Slave. What are they saying?”
 
But still Missandei doesn’t answer Kraznys. She’s too busy watching as Daenerys steps away from the Khal and towards the Unsullied. And then, the light-haired, violet-eyed woman is shouting in Low Valyrian.
 
“Unsullied!”
 
There’s a banging of spears, as the Unsullied respond to the one who holds the harpy’s fingers. Daenerys smiles… and then speaks.
 
“Take the city! Slay the Good Masters! Slay any who raise arms, any who hold a whip! Harm no children!”
 
And then it begins. Though Missandei did not notice it, Kraznys was actually reaching for her, likely to punish her, when Daenerys begin speaking. She only finds this out when a glint catches her attention out of the corner of her eye, and she turns just in time to see Khal Jhono slicing off the outstretched arm of her master with his sword before bringing it around and through Kraznys mo Nakloz’s neck in one easy swing.
 
What follows is pure pandemonium. Missandei can’t even begin to explain it. But what she will not forget is the way the Khal of Khals looks at her, right after he’s disarmed her old master. He gives her a smile, and in common tells her that everything is going to be alright so long as she keeps her head down.
 
By the time it’s all over, he’s kept his word, and Missandei finds herself without a collar around her neck for the first time in a long time… too long. She’s free. They all are. As she finds out after the fact, it was never the Dothraki’s intention to bargain with any of the Masters of Slaver’s Bay. Apparently, the rumors had been true. It had seemed so fanciful that even Missandei herself hadn’t believed it. The Dothraki, rejecting slavery and excising it from their culture? Such talk HAD reached Slaver’s Bay before the Khal of Khals did, but no one had taken it seriously.
 
Apparently, the Masters had failed to take it seriously to their own detriment. Slaver’s Bay was no more. And Missandei was free. She didn’t know what to do with such freedom, so she did the only thing she could think of, the only thing that might get her close to her savior. She pledged herself to Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen’s service.
 
And to Missandei’s utter delight, Daenerys accepted. Of course, she should have known that the beautiful woman was onto her from the moment that she saw the knowing glint in those violet eyes. One day, she would learn to stop underestimating the woman the Khal of Khals had declared worthy of being his khaleesi.
 
-x-X-x-
 
It’d worked, and for that Jon was grateful. The loss of life had not been none, but it had at least been minimal. And he was proud of Daenerys for the role she’d played in things as well. After the Masters were slain, the Unsullied had been given a choice to go their own way or follow. They’d chosen Daenerys, amusingly enough. His beloved wife now had her own personal army, and frankly, Jon suspected they would die for her.
 
Of course, after all of that, Jon wanted two things. A bath, and a warm body to go to sleep next to. Before he can even finish the bath, however, he found himself interrupted by his pregnant khaleesi… and her newest handmaiden.
 
“Jon… this is Missandei, my newest handmaiden. She has something she’d like to say to you.”
 
Blushing, the dark-skinned former slave looks to Daenerys and then down at the ground… before happily shedding her dress and revealing her nubile body to his eyes.
 
“Khal of Khals… I wish to thank you properly for my freedom. I-If you will have me…”
 
Immediately, the dragon in Jon’s soul makes its presence known, wanting him to take and claim her on the spot. But was that the best thing for Missandei? As he sits there in the bath, Jon considers what to do. Does he resist temptation? Or does he give in?

-x-X-x-

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