Chapter Thirty Eight: The Unsullied

                                    

                                          
Eastern cities always smelt like shit, Lyanna noted, and Astapor was no exception. Lyanna didn't know what was worse; the smell or the place itself. 
                          
Dany's group were being toured around the barracks of the Unsullied, an army of slaves that had been castrated just as they'd hit puberty. Their master was a man named Kraznys, a sleazy, Eastern slave master. He spoke only in Valarian, meaning he had a translator follow them around, a young, pretty girl who looked like Sansa's age. She was good at her job; Lyanna wasn't the best at Valerian but she knew Kraznys was constantly insulting them, insults she turned into compliments. The unsullied he trained were trained to be loyal, and trained to fight. 
                          
"More like trained to die," Eryk had hissed to Lyanna, a glare on his face. "Slaves are a renewable source, why train them to survive when you could get extreme loyalty?" 
                          
Dany had heard his point, and so had everyone else, including the translator, who told Kraznys, making Eryk flush red in embarrassment. 
Kraznys said something which sounded like Lyanna being a bitch and not knowing how to control her slave. 
                          
"My master Kraznys says that you are right, we are always training more unsullied, as there are so many slaves in this city that are put to use with this training. My master Kraznys also says that the unsullied are trained too well to be killed, they are rarely bested on the battlefield, but there loyalty does extend to death," 
                          
"I'm sorry if my friend offended," Lyanna muttered, despite not caring at all what the slave master thought. 
                          
The group continued walking, Lyanna not listening. Kraznys had said that the unsullied were loyal to there master, but Lyanna didn't believe him. Her father had always said that any man who's loyalty has to be bought has no loyalty for anyone but himself. These men were probably different though, considering they were slaves and knew nothing else than to give complete loyalty to whoever bought them. It was a sick system, she decided, but it was the only way to get the throne. Why was it sick and twisted systems were the only way to the throne? 
                          
The group arrived in a courtyard where there was at least fifty Unsullied were stood, as they had been the whole night without food or water. Lyanna felt sick looking at them all suffering. She saw in their eyes as they moved to let her pass the pain and fear they felt. 
                          
"In Winterfell the boys started fighting at ten, Robb, Jon and Theon started at seven because they chose to, I started at fourteen. How old were these when they began their training?" Lyanna asked.
                          
"They begin their training at the age of five working to master the short sword, the shield and the three spears, drilling from dawn till dusk," the translator explained. "Only one boy in four will survive this. Their loyalty and obedience is absolute, they fear nothing,"
                          
"Even the bravest men fear death," Ser Jorah pointed out, and Lyanna thought of her father again. 
                          
"Death is the only time a man can truly be brave," Lyanna spoke the words she'd heard her father say to Bran almost two years ago, a chill running down her spine. 
                          
"The knight and the princess say even brave men fear death," the translator said in low Valarian and Lyanna had to stop herself from pulling a face at being called Princess. 
                          
"Tell the old man he smells like piss and the bitch that if it wasn't for her big tits I'd have started ignoring her a long time ago," he spat back at her. Lyanna decided she preferred princess to bitch. "Tell the Westerosi whore to watch carefully," 
                          
Kraznys stepped down from the platform, approaching one of the unsullied, who stepped forward. Moving his shield and spear away, Kraznys took the unsullied's knife out of its sheaf. Lyanna went cold again as Kraznys cut away part of the man's armour. 
                          
"Stop!" She called out, almost angrily before Daenerys could. 
                          
"Tell the good master his demonstration is unnecessary," Dany said calmly, but Lyanna could tell they were both as outraged as each other. 
                          
Lyanna watched as the knife sliced through the soft flesh, a bleeding hole where his nipple had once been. She closed her eyes slightly, sighing. The cruelty that these men faced in their lifetime was immeasurable, and Lyanna felt sorry for them. 
                          
"To complete their training," the translator began explaining again, making Lyanna dread what she had to say next. "The unsullied go into the marketplace with a silver coin, take a newborn child and kill it in front of its mother," 
                          
Lyanna heard Brandon's screams in the back of her head, the silent voices of the crowd looking on in a mix of horror and excitement. She heard her own pleas then her cries of grief when she knew her son was dead. All the pain she'd tried to forget came rushing back to her as she imagined herself as one of those slave mothers, having her child taken off her and murdered in front of her eyes. Except she didn't really have to imagine, as she was a slave back then, Joffrey's slave, although no one paid her a silver coin for her grief. 
                          
Seeing Lyanna's face, Dany took hold of her arm, squeezing it supportively, as Lyanna shut her eyes. She imagined she was back at the Warlock's house, pushing her pain away again, though all she could see was the hallucination of Brandon. 
                          
"You take a child, murder it if front of its mother and then pay her a silver coin for her grief?" Daenerys demanded, and Lyanna opened her eyes in time to see the furious glare on her aunt's face. 
                          
The master and his slave exchanged some words in Low Valarian, but Lyanna couldn't be bothered to translate. There was no point translating when the words would just make her feel worse. The translator would eventually tell them, but those few seconds Lyanna remained in slight ignorance were bliss for her. She knew most of the details, but yet the fat she still didn't know bits of their backstory was almost comforting; she didn't truly know how bad it had been for them. 
                          
"Master Kraznys says you're mistaken. The coin is not paid to the mother, but to the child's owner," she spoke, too stoically for the matter she was speaking of. Lyanna felt Eryk gently touch her arm, and when she opened her eyes, she saw his fist clenched.
                          
"How many do you have to sell?" Dany asked, changing the subject quickly. 
                          
"Eight thousand, but master Kraznys asks you to hurry in your decision, as there are other interested buyers"

                          
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Word count: 1130
                          
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Hey guys! 
I broke up from Sixth Form yesterday so I'm planning on doing a lot more writing over the next two weeks. 
Please leave a vote and a comment with feedback, I hope you enjoyed this! 
~Olivia