There are cowering whispers of a war that is soon to be waged on the realm, destroying castles, starving people, decimating armies. A war for the Iron Throne, and a war against it. A war to hide secrets and a war to betray them. For death is power...
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Remi held his breath as the strikingly beautiful woman approached him, her silver locks a bit disarranged by the wind. She smiled at him and he couldn't help but marvel at the sweetness of her face.
"Good afternoon, sir."
"Good afternoon, my lady." Remi bowed.
Daenerys motioned for him to join her for a walk in the gardens.
"I really liked your song during supper." She chirped.
"You're the first one to say that, thank you."
"Oh, I apologize on behalf of Viserys. He loses himself sometimes." Daenerys said delicately.
"I'm sure he does." Remi replied, smiling to himself as he realized that Daenerys Targaryen was as kind and soft as she was fragile and friendly. It was in her voice, her walk, her face, her thoughts. Kindness resided in her. Empathy for the poor, for the slaves, for the deprived, it resided in her.
"Where did you get the inspiration for the song?" She asked as they circled a beautiful water fountain, the jets of water sprouting like vines and gleaming brightly in the sunlight. Remi shook his head slightly, pushing away the memories.
"I'm a free man from the city of Braavos. And I've grown up believing in the freedom of men, women and children. We celebrate the day of Iralla there, you know."
"I've heard about it quite a lot. They say it's the most sacred day in Braavos."
"It's the day of mourning. One that reminds us that the city we live in is built on the blood of slaves who died for it. You can imagine my distress when I saw the servants and their brown collars."
Daenerys looked thoughtful. "I understand. When I first came here, I felt the same. Slavery is old, etched in the minds of men like a curse. And it is very difficult to undo an ancient curse."
"We may never know until we've tried it." Remi said as he kicked a stone away from his path, glancing at her. She looked like an innocent child contemplating something very grim.
