Aaah! Welcome back to the story! I'm so sorry with how late this is, life happened. But I promise, I will focus on this more than I have.

Phew. Okay. This is the third installment of my Game of Thrones series. And as hinted in the previous story, this will eventually be a Robb Stark/OC - this will happen by either the fourth or fifth installment, depending on how many chapters are in this one and storyline and everything. But I will have a chapter in this from Robb's point of view from the Red Wedding episode, explaining the change.

Alright, enjoy the first chapter! And thanks for being so patient! As always, bold is for Dothraki conversations, italicized is for Valyrian.

It's been nearly a fortnight since we left Qarth and boarded the merchant ship, large enough to hold ourselves and our small khalasar. I find myself constantly missing Irri and her Dothraki wisdom. I even miss Doreah, and wish things had been different. But try as I might I have no control over the choices others make. Like Dany, I can only deliver the consequences and stare ahead.

And that is what I'm doing. I stand with my back to the helm of the ship, my twin holding my hand in calm excitement as we watch the four dragons screech and fly. Daavi is the largest, nearly twice the size of her cousins. Still, for a dragon she is quite gentle. Wild, of course, as they are not meant to be tame creatures. But when I look into her eyes, I see my late friend, and can't help but wonder if her soul lives inside my dragon.

I walk away from Dany and Ser Jorah and watch as Daavi and Drogon fly down into the water before reemerging with a fish in their mouths. The poor creature is tossed up, roasted by their growing fire before falling down into the mouths of the beasts. "Daavi." I croon, standing at the back of the ship, facing the direction from whence we came.

Daavi flies to me, her bronze wings folding down as her feet clench the bannister of the ship. I gently reach out my hand and her back head instantly nuzzles into it, chirping and purring. "You are such a good dragon. Yes you are, my darling." I say in High Valyrian, Daavi continuing to croon in pleasure.

My sister laughs. "You two are as thick as thieves."

"As are you and Drogon." I comment, her own dragon landing by her and purring. She smiles and leans out her hand to scratch under her Drogon's jaw.

"They are growing fast." I hear Jorah say, and turn to smile at them.

Dany speaks first. "Daavi is, certainly. But the others have not grown enough. We can't wait that long." Drogon flies off to join his brothers, but Daavi stays with me. "We need an army."

Daavi suddenly flies onto me, clawed feed around the black belt of my red dress with slits, legs bared as a breeze rolls past. I stumble a bit as her wings wrap around my torso, her head on my shoulder. My sister laughs at me, and I poke my tongue out at her. "You are getting too big to be carried, Daavi." I tell my dragon, who only hums and continues to rest.

"We'll be in Astapor by nightfall." Jorah tells us. "Some say the Unsullied are the greatest soldiers in the world."

"The greatest slave-soldiers in the world!" My sister argues, referring to the eunuch men awaiting us on Slaver's Bay, along with their masters. "The distinction means a good deal to some people."

"Dany, please." I tell her, calming my twin down.

"Do those people have any better ideas about how to put you on the Iron Throne?" Jorah argues. I steadily walk between the two, looking less intimidating with the dragon wrapped around me.

"It's too nice a day to argue." I try, only to hear the sound of someone throwing up. I close my eyes at the timing. We walk towards our original spots at the back of the ship, looking down at our seasick khalasar.

"You're right. Another lovely day on the high seas." Jorah tells me, and I glower playfully at him.

"Don't mock them." Dany tells him. "They're the first Dothraki who have ever been on a ship." We watch as one of our khalasar tends to the sick man. "They followed us across the poison water. If they'll do it, others will. And with a true khalasar -"

"The Dothraki will follow strength above all, Khaleesi." Jorah tells her. My dragon makes a noise before releasing me, joining her cousins in the sky. "You'll have a true khalasar when you prove yourself strong, and not before."

I sigh and walk away from them to watch Daavi fly, wishing she could be larger only so I could be with her in the sky.

True to Jorah's word, we arrive at the shores of Astapor just as night is falling. Our dragons stay in our chambers, somehow knowing it is not safe for them to remain in the sky. I take Dany's hand as our ship reaches the docks of the city very much appearing like Qarth, great and wealthy. Jorah leads us off the ship, and we are met by a master and his female slave. "Welcome to Astapor. This is my translator, Missandei. Shall we begin?" He looks to his slave.

"Master Kraznys welcomes you to Astapor, and asks if you are ready to meet his Unsullied."

"Yes, we are." I answer, looking at the bald man distrustfully. He smiles in the way all mean do when they think little of women, and leads us towards the gates of a small gathering place. He speaks in Valyrian, unaware that we have no need for a translator. After all, it is our mother tongue.

"The Unsullied have stood here for a day and a night." Missandei informs us from behind. "With no food or water." Obviously Kraznys is hoping to impress us. Clearly no one informed this ignorant low-life that us Targaryen twins are against slavery. Krazynys leads us to the rows of soldiers, speaking in Valyrian. Missandei translates. "They will stand until they drop. Such is their obedience." The men before us part in uniform, and we walk through them like a parted sea.

"They may suit our needs." My sister says in the common tongue. "Tell me of their training."

"The Westerosi women are pleased with them, but speak no praise to keep the price down." I smile at her words. "They wish to know how they are trained."

We reach the front of the group and walk up the platform.

"Tell them what they should know and be quick about it." Kraznys orders. "The day is hot." He complains, and I snort behind my hand. We stand together on the raised platform, looking down at the small gathering bellow.

"They begin their training at five. Everyday they drill from dawn to dusk, until they have mastered the shortsword, the shield, and three spears. Only one boy in four survives this rigorous training." Missandei tells us. Kraznys speaks once more, Missandei continuing to translate. "Their discipline and loyalty are absolute. They fear nothing."

"Even the bravest of men fear death." Ser Jorah argues. Missandei turns to her master.

"The knight says even brave men fear death."

"Tell the old man he smells of piss." I glower, Dany taking my hand to stop me from revealing our secret. Right now, it's our greatest weapon. That and our dragons.

"Truly, master?"

"No, not truly!" He scolds Missandei. "Are you a girl or a goat to ask such a thing?"

"My master says the Unsullied are not men. Death means nothing to them."

"Tell these ignorant whores of Westerners to open their eyes and watch." Dany looks to me, and I roll my eyes.

Kraznys walks down the steps to his men. "He begs you attend this carefully, Your Graces."

"You, come forward." Kraznys orders. The Unsullied walks down to him and stops. Kraznys moves his shielded arm out of the way, as well as his spear. He takes the knife at the man's hilt, then slices one of the straps from his leather armor so it falls back.

"Dany." I whisper, and she nods.

"Tell the good master there is no need." She says to Missandei.

"She's worried about their nipples?" The man says amused. "Do the dumb bitches know we've cut off their balls?" He guts off the Unsullied's left nipple, throwing it to the ground as the wound bleeds the man doesn't flinch. My sister looks away but stare at Kraznys in disgust. I wouldn't mind slicing Blackfyre through him.

"My master points out that men don't need nipples." Missandei tells us, looking down.

Kraznys puts the Unsullied back in his previous position. "Here, I'm done with you."

"This one is pleased to have served you." The Unsullied steps back into line. Kraznys walks towards us, looking up at his small audience. He says something, but all I hear is the roaring in my ears. My hand grips the hilt of my new sword.

"To win his shield, an Unsullied must go to the slave marts with a silver mark, find a newborn and kill it before its mother's eyes." Missandei tells us. I feel a pang in my heart and close my eyes. "This way, my master says, we make certain there is no weakness left in them."

"You take a babe from its mother's arms, kill it as she watches, and pay for her pain with a silver coin?" I ask, anger pulsating in my voice.

Missandei translates my words for her master, simply saying, "She is offended. She asks if you pay a silver coin to the mother, for her dead body."

"What a soft mewling fool this one is. No woman deserves to wield a sword, for they are weak." He comments, looking at me. I pretend to not understand him, tilting my head.

"My master would like you to know that silver is paid to the baby's owner, not the mother."

"How many do you have to sell?" Dany asks the master. Missandei translates her words for the master, who holds up at 8 fingers.

"8,000."

"Tell the Westerosi whores they have until tomorrow."

"Master Kraznys asks that you please hurry. Many other buyers are interested." The Unsullied part and Kraznys walks through them, Missandei scurrying behind him. The Unsullied return to where they were standing, staring ahead. My sister looks at me and nods, and we walk around them, heading back to the docks.

"8,000 dead babies." My sister comments.

"The Unsullied are a means to an end." Jorah reminds her.

"Once we own them. These men -" I start.

"They're not men. Not anymore." I glare up at our advisor, and my sister speaks for me.

"Once we own an army of slaves, what will we be?" She asks.

"Do you think these slaves will have better lives Kraznys and men like him or serving the two of you?" Jorah asks as we watch the slaves work below us. A little girl stares up at us, tossing a brown ball in her hand. She runs off and amused, we follow after her to our own ship. "You'll be fair to them. You won't mutilate them to make a point. You won't order them to murder babies. You'll see they're properly fed and sheltered." Something in my gut roars, telling me we're being followed. But I look ahead. I could just be paranoid. I have Jorah here, I have Blackfyre, I am safe. "A great injustice has been done to them. Closing your eyes will not undo it." Jorah finishes, and we stop before the girl, just ahead of us. She leans down and rolls it to Dany, who picks it up in interest. The girl makes a motion, but before Dany can do anything a hooded figure knocks me over, then grabs at Dany, knocking the ball out of her hands and she falls on the ground next to me. Jorah subdues the man but the ball opens, revealing the chittering manticore. Taking Dany's hand and shaking my head we slowly scoot back on the floor, right as a silver dagger comes down and impales it to the dock. He lifts it and I see he's an old man.

The girl reemerges and hisses at us with green sharpened teeth before jumping off the dock and into the water, gone. I help Dany stand and we slowly turn, looking up to see the girl above us. She just glares and walks away. "The warlocks." My sister says. I bite my lip in fear and take her hand as we walk towards the hooded man. "We owe you our lives, ser."

"The honor is mine, my Queen. My Princess." He declares, pushing his hood down to reveal his face.

We notice Jorah walking towards us in surprise. "You know him?" I ask.

He nods. "I know him as one of the greatest fighters the Seven Kingdoms has ever seen. And as the Lord Commander of Robert Baratheon's Kingsguard."

"King Robert is dead." The man reminds us. I have been searching for you, Daenerys Stormborn and Jaenarys Fireborn, to ask your forgiveness. I was sworn to protect your family. I failed them." He kneels before us. "I am Barristan Selmy, Kingsguard to your father. Allow me to join your Queensguard, and I will not fail you again." He bows his head at us.

The other two remain in silence, but I smile and remove my sword from its sheath, reknighting the man. "Then I name you Ser Barristan Selmy of Daenerys Targaryen's Queensguard, protector of the rightful heir to the Iron Throne. You may rise." He stands and smiles down at me. "Welcome to our little khalasar, Ser Selmy."

"Thank you, my Princess." With a bow he walks with Jorah, following us to the ship. I am not trusting of strangers, but the look in his eyes suggests he means no harm. Not to us, at least. Which makes him a member of a very small collection of people wishing to aid us.

And we need all the protectors we can get. That little girl… she's the least of our worries.