Asher Forrester in Essos

Men or Money

We'd done the impossible. Crawling through the city, finishing the fight with Beshka's old Slavemaster quietly enough to get to the Beacons. Winning, outnumbered three to one and quelling the alarm before it could be lit.

We'd taken Meereen. High on the success and adrenaline from our wounds we stepped into Daenerys's tent, to collect our reward- our soldiers. We were heading back to Westeros, to my family, my house. We were going to be able to save them.

The brazen bitch was still as bold and as cold as ice. I could tell she wasn't interested in me anymore, her heartless blue eyes skimmed right past me as she surveyed our group. The part of me that had learned to march and marshal troops wondered if she was just busy with the aftermath of the battle, but I'd merced for too long not to trust my gut. 

Something wasn't right here. Still I wasn't about to pull my sword, and we wanted men not trouble, so I'd have to hear her out. Something about her calculating approach had sat wrong from the beginning, but that might be the stories about her father talking. After the Mad King the Targaryens would have had a hard time holding the throne not matter how the war fell out.

Still, she seemed more cogent than the Lannisters, who were busy subjugating and looting the North. We were still Stark bannermen, no matter that we'd had to swear other oaths as well, we'd maneuver for them until we all had the opening we needed, to be free.

Taking a deep breath, I opened my mouth to speak...