Game of Thrones: Dance of Ice and Fire

Dany I - A City of Dreams and Chains

The sweltering heat of Qarth's summer sun beat down upon the city, leaving the dusty streets shimmering like molten gold.

Amidst the vibrant marketplace, Lyria and Val trudged along, their steps heavy with exhaustion. But Lyria, the older sister of Val seemed unbothered by the burning ground while Val at least wore some shoes. Old sandals, worn and about to rip apart at any moment. But Lyria always made sure that her sister was as protected and well as possible.

Their hands bore the scars of countless labors, and their faces were streaked with sweat and dirt. Slavery had been their reality for as long as they could remember, and each day brought new hardships.

Lyria held Val's hand protectively making sure she wouldn't leave her side as they weaved through the crowded stalls. Their eyes darted furtively, ever watchful for the disapproving gaze of their masters.

They both wore modest and threadbare garments, doing their best to blend in with the other slaves laboring throughout the city. Lyria's clothing even turned slightly transparent in the sunlight. It's because she had to serve men in their beds when the Spice King ordered her to. His guests of nobility never said no to spending a few hours with a young girl. Ugly purple and green marks covered her arms but mostly her thighs. A constant reminder of what she went through.

Passing a gilded fountain adorned with ornate statues, they exchanged a fleeting glance of shared longing. The fountain's cool, clear water seemed like an unattainable luxury, reserved for the privileged few. Their parched throats and the dirt clinging to their skin were constant reminders of their lowly station.

With baskets on their backs, they were tasked with collecting discarded fruit peels and scraps from the marketplace. The air carried the scent of ripe fruits and fragrant spices, a stark contrast to the persistent hunger that gnawed at their stomachs. A grumbling noise came from them both. Val put a hand on her stomach in attempt to ease the pain. Lyria pulled her sister a little closer. They moved in silence, knowing that speaking out of turn could lead to harsh punishment. However, their eyes conveyed volumes of unspoken words, a silent conversation that only they could understand.

As the day wore on, Lyria noticed Val's shoulders sagging under the weight of her burden. Gently, she adjusted the basket on Val's back, sharing the load. The younger girl smiled gratefully, her eyes reflecting the gratitude of not being alone in this. A cry of pain came from Lyria when the slave driver's whip cracked in the air, hitting her back. The spot on her skin was reddish, her clothing ripped apart, as the red liquid of her blood stained her garments. The fear in Val's eyes sent a surge of courage through Lyria's heart, fueling her determination to shield her sister from harm at all costs.

"It's okay."  She whispered to calm down the younger one.
With her thumb she wiped away the tear that found its way on her cheek. She took her hand again and with pain they continued their task.

As evening approached,  they returned to their meager quarters, a small dimly lit room shared with other slaves. One bread was ripped into pieces so everyone could get their own share. Lyria made sure to get some extra pieces for Val. She didn't care if she had to starve a couple days as long as Val could eat.
Additionally they all got a bucket of water to share. Lyria closed her eyes when the cool liquid went down her throat, her dry mouth starting to feel alive again. Though it was barely enough to sustain them for another grueling day.
Lyria opened her eyes when the sound of clothing that was ripped apart filled the room. It was Val pulling at the hem of her dress.

"What are you doing?" Lyria tried to stop her sister but she already held the piece in her hands like a cloth.

Val put it inside the bucket of water for a second.