khaleesi ― 𝐋. 𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐅𝐄𝐘𝐒𝐎𝐍

━━━━ CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

 ˖*°࿐ chapter twenty-eight.
xxviii. KILL THE MASTERS

HUNDREDS OF UNSULLIED TRUDGED THEIR WAY through the river under the cover of darkness, carrying bundles strapped to their backs to pretend that it was only their few possessions. They were going to infiltrate the city, going in to help those men, women, and children trapped as slaves. Grey Worm grabbed onto the hind gates, the gates no one used anymore, and pushed as it rose off the ground. Grey Worm led them, lighting torches to help them see better in the murk of the sewers, all of the soldiers making their way silently through the water. Slaves sat in a hallway large enough for them to walk around without hunching or bumping into each other, all of them in the sewers. 

"Yel rit!" Others grumbled. "Poghethash mathash wang yel sherwa!" (You heard her! She said she came to free us!)

"Shka ma khurf. P'ashkesh she kraj waov." ( You fool. The masters are too strong.)

"Yel mizozliwash. Erntash ye kosh shp'ashkesh. Ez m'äzantyr gras," the slave bent over, moving his hands as he spoke. "Ivaf kiófa w'omvale shiv tówish fílva tosh?" (She will protect us. She defeated the Masters' champion. She has a great army. You want to live the rest of your days in chains?)

"Ivan kiófa," another replied, leaning forward. "Wan shkó kanshísh sho fan aish. Shko ódav kamazlíwesh yá iro?" (I want to live. You saw what they did to those children. What do you think they'll do to us?)

"Onyesh kiofasa ya lan jelnazmato," the slave that called him a fool says. He is an old man, possibly in his 60s or 70s, and he was bald; no sign of hair anywhere. "Zo gresh pujilio shenk. P'ashkesh pilosh shi qlonya, me buzdal she mol." (I've been through two slave revolts, boy. They always end the same way. The Masters in power and the slaves dead.) 

"Valar Morghulis," Grey Worm speaks as he and his fellow soldiers stroll into the room, causing some slaves to stand up, gawking at them in wonder. "Yn dynan kizi ez jim; Meri tovi eji derve sa movitah he me glezor espo bilma." (All men must die. But I promise you; a single day of freedom is worth more than a lifetime of chains.) The old man is skin and bones; you can count his ribs one by one through his skin, but Grey Worm isn't fazed by it, he has seen that many times back in Tario. 

"Val shka?" (Who are you?)

"Ji broji ez bezy sa Torgo Nudho," Grey Worm answers. "Mazedhan lodiri hí me bive p'Aeske j'Tario dos, rudmari me bodmari he Dovoghedhy. Sir osvelivan Laelia zy; ji Mysa espo Zaldrizes, me ji Pryjare espo Bilma." (This one is called Grey Worm. I was taken as a baby by the Masters of Tario, raised and trained as Unsullied. Now I fight for Laelia, the Mother of Dragons, and Breaker of Chains.)

"Shká Thowoá? Afo jej ojweliwa nish shke shél fendá. Va shke minshísh!" (You are Unsullied? They taught you how to fight before you could walk. We are not soldiers!)

"I om tõl fõjem, tõl khem." (We have no training, no weapons.)

Grey Worm and the Unsullied remove their sacks, dropping all of them to the ground and letting them split open like an egg. The polished metal of different blades and knives shine in the firelight, some slaves coming over and running their hands over the cold alloy. The old slave picks one up and examines it.

"Bodes kari buzdari ez kizo ohte ez tulve aeske zy. Dory jim kotas tebagho jiva derve sumbazi. Lo ji ebat, jimi sydlivas zer mazmagho." (There are three slaves in this city for each Master. No one can give you your freedom, brothers. If you want it, take it.) 

Outside, a master walks through an alley with two guards when they stop short. They see red blood on the door of a home, a hastily written note with it. 'Kill the masters,' it said. The master in front growls lowly, a guard that followed him yelling out to him. He looks up to where the guard is pointing and sees a Master's body hanging from the winged-woman statue, a gasp escaping his lips. The sound of footsteps makes his head look down and he sees slaves holding knives making their way to him. He tries to escape by using the alley he had come out of, but more slaves blocked the exit. Even more slaves stood by the alley behind him, Grey Worm seen among them. All of the slaves got a chance to stab him.

***

SLAVES BREAK OFF THEIR CHAINS, piling them into a heap, Laelia walking through them while children walked beside her chanting, 'Mhysa'. More slaves stood by the balconies, chanting, and holding up their broken collars. They all waved to her, watching as she walked up the stairs to the highest balcony that looked over the slave masters. "Remind me, Ser Allister, how many children did the Great Masters nail to mileposts?"

"One hundred and sixty-three, Khaleesi."

"Yes, that was it," she looks at Grey Worm, him giving a nod to another soldier, which he calls out to the others, all beginning to march into the masters. 

"Your Grace, may I have a word?" Korben requests. She nods and faces him. "The city is yours. All these people, they're yours, they're your subjects now. Sometimes it's better to answer injustice with mercy." 

She looks to him once more, "I will answer injustice with justice." Her eyes dared for Korben to go any further. 

Unsullied soldiers begin nailing the hands and feet of Masters to the posts they made, one arm crossed over their chest and their feet placed as the little girl's had been. It was that little girl's  — and the other one hundred and sixty-two children that had died  — revenge upon the men that did this to them. Laelia stood on top of one of the balconies of one the pyramids, a red three-headed dragon sitting on a black field flying over her head — the Greystone's flag, their sigil. It showed the rest of the world that a Greystone was taking back her throne, one city at a time.

Loki would've been so proud of her.