In reality, he sent his mind to bend other beings' will, scouring the world as he liked. In the dream world, it was the being that took his mind hostage, forcing him to indulge in whatever it was doing. At times, it's rather unpleasant.

Though it was only usually so.

This time he was a projection. Looking down he could see his torso, his hands, his feet, though standing. The ground beneath him escaped his shoes as if it was melting under them. The more he thought about it the more the bricks flowed; his imagination now had some extent of power over the world around him, he realized, and he glanced around to see if the walls were in a similar manner as the ground.

Strangely, it was as still as ever. No matter how hard he tried to warp them, to bend, to melt them, they stayed as they were. Of course he only had a small area of influence. To be granted full control would mean he was still swimming around in his own mind, and not in reality elsewhere.

He turned away from the light and walked deeper into the darkness, where he knew the one he sought would likely be. He would be justified to expect that his assumption was true. All his past dreams told him to dwell in darkness, and the Three-Eyed Raven had always been correct so far.

He knew he struck right again when a slip of black flashed before him. He began to run. The feeling had long eluded him, and he couldn't remember if it was supposed to feel like he was hovering, though the thought soon left his mind as he skidded around a corner after a wisp of dark smoke. The chase continued for a while, with the shadow disappearing and reappearing in different spots, determined to get somewhere in a flash, and Bran taking his time to find it. He stalked it as it took the shape of an educated man in Qohorik robes. It took out a pouch of coins and stepped into a discreet shop on the corner of an alley.

Before he could follow in, he felt himself being pulled away against his will, seemingly caused by a source of powerful magic, as it managed to remove even his little sphere of influence. He slipped from the ground and into the sky, torn from his dreams and tossed into his bed, once again Bran the Broken.

"She can't have just disappeared. Didn't she go out yesterday? I'm sure she won't do anything rash…"

"I'm worried about her safety."

Maralynn sighed in frustration. The past few minutes she spent arguing with the Naathi man had her running in circles of logic. Grey Worm also seemed unable to get his point across communicating in English, which left them at a complete standstill.

"I know! But there isn't anything you can do now… The red priestess is gone, and you can clearly see, she left a long while ago. It's no use in trying to search for Dany. You don't know your way around Braavos, and when you get lost-"

"I won't get lost." Grey Worm huffed, frustration and hatred etched in his features.

"You will. I know it. So I'm telling you," she slowed her words down in a slightly mocking tone, "It's best if you come with me. We can search for her together if that's what you wish, but I doubt we'll be able to find her."

"Where did the red priestess go?"

She dropped her arms and glared at him. "You think I know?"

He stared back with equal intensity. "She said her job was done. You were here before me. What job?"

"I don't know."

"Why did she leave?"

"I don't know. Look, I'll take you to find her if you'll just cooperate-"

"No."

"The whole reason why we're having this argument is because you wanted to go look for Dany. Now you don't want to go?"

"Fuck you."

"Stay in the house, then. I'm leaving."

Maralynn turned on her heels, body tense with frustration. She shouldered the heavy red doors open with a little trouble and started down the stairs in quick, small steps. A moment later, Grey Worm appeared at her side silently. She sighed and walked on, occasionally checking to see if he was still trailing behind her.

They waded through the busy streets, asking around for a fair, brown-haired woman in a hood. It was an impossible search, Maralynn knew, as even now she could see more than a few brown-haired women with hoods; they just weren't on. There was only one possible sighting from a man named Rhon, but she couldn't determine the reason for Daenerys to sit and chat with a fruit seller.

"This is pointless," Grey Worm muttered.

"And what did I tell you?" She retorted bitingly. Upon seeing his defeat, however, she softened. "Might as well make the most of the afternoon, hm? I know there's a play going on down the street… What do you say?"

He nodded lightly in response. Maralynn offered a small smile as they started down the street. They took refuge from the heat under a tree at the very edge of the crowd and watched the play from the middle of a scene.

"No! Aurion, please don't go! The gods have planned a path of tragedy. You will be left alone, forlorn-oh my dear husband, why won't you heed me? Do not risk your life for legacy!"

Aurion, played by a young, blond man, shrugged his arm from his wife's grasp. "I am the Emperor! This is my destiny, to reconquer the lands that were wrenched so suddenly, out of the hands of my fellow dragonlords!" He stomped away, snatching his sword from the table. His wife slumped to the floor, arms reaching out to his shadow.

"Oh, my dear Aurion, the gods have spoken. I dreamt of your demise, alone on an island, unbeknownst to man. Godspeed, dear husband, pray you be joyful until your death."

Maralynn clapped along with the crowd as the scene ended. The man beside her bore a blank expression, and she realized that he must not have heard of Aurion the Dragonlord before.

The tale continued on a ship. Aurion sailed with his Qohorik hosts, sharing stories late into the night. They encountered pirates on the sea, and though Maralynn was unsure of the truth of these events, she laughed along with the jokes and innuendos the dialogue contained. She thought Grey Worm had smiled when the Qohorik translator tried nineteen different languages before finding the right one to speak to the pirates.

Eventually, after stopping at Dorne, they landed on an island that the cartographer could not recognize. Yet, in fear of being executed, he told Aurion that they were on the right course. Their ship was destroyed in a storm while they took refuge in a cave. Slowly, but surely, Aurion and his crew fell to madness and began preying on each other. Hatred bloomed between the dragonlord and the Qohorik. One night, he commanded those still loyal to him to bring many that he knew were plotting against him before his dragon and burned them as a warning. A fight broke out the next day, in which Aurion was wounded and escaped into a cave. The victorious Qohorik rebels chased him into a dead end.

"Emperor Aurion, you failed to govern even a small crew. In anger and fear, we strike against you, to end your terror once and forever!" The leader of the rebels plunged a sword into Aurion's stomach. The dragonlord, with eyes full of hatred, gurgled up blood and fell to the ground dead.

Seconds later, the crowd erupted into cheers. Maralynn offered a whoop of her own, which seemed to pressure Grey Worm to clap awkwardly.

"Have you really never been to plays like these?" She asked him as they left the crowd.

Grey Worm shook his head. "I had no time." He glanced sideways when she hummed. "But I do now. And I'm spending it with you."

The statement brought a smile to her face. The man seemed not to have noticed that his words could easily mean something of a deeper sentimentality, though Maralynn knew better than to misunderstand his slight exasperation.

"Glad to have you," she replied and grinned when Grey Worm huffed. A moment later, she spoke up again. "So what'd you think of the play?"

He was silent for a while. Then, he replied, "Aurion died hateful. I do not like that."

long time no see. i had to put this on pause for a long long while because i just wasn't really feeling it, but not im back and inspired again. be expecting occasional updates, but probably not as often as i used to :p

-your writer that's most definitely still alive, in case you were wondering.