Valkyrie Keep, 282 AC in Braavos, Essos

The year of the birth of Daenerys Targaryen

_

An old friend came to see her.

Brynhildr woke up one morning to Ahyad telling her that a visitor had come, asking for an audience with the Commander of the Valkyries. She'd been unenthusiastic, knowing it could not be Oberyn, for Ahyad would have recognized him and been unable to keep his mouth shut about this surprise.

What awaited her in their courtyard surprised her instead. A man slightly taller than she remembered, his devilish smirk unchanged as he faced her clad in a proper uniform bearing the sigil of the Stormcrows.

"Daario!" she shrieked happily, rushing up to hug him. He caught her before she could knock him down, spinning to place her back on the ground. "Gods, you did it! You're here!"

"And look at you!" he said, gesturing around them. "You have your own keep? I wish I'd been the one good-looking enough to catch Oberyn Martell's fancy."

"He tried to buy you," she said pointedly. "Your master wouldn't sell you." She grinned wide, still unable to believe he was here. She put an arm around him and led him towards their great hall. "Come, come, let me get you some refreshments while you tell me everything. Are your men camped outside?"

"Yes," said Daario. "Camped and spread out in the inns down your street. Your shield-maidens are already keeping watch over them– I like their braids, by the way–" He tugged at her braids. "Reminds me of someone I knew. Your worshippers make quite the first impression."

"They are my family, not my worshippers!"

"Whatever helps you sleep at night."

She had her servants– Daario refused to believe they were servants until Brynhildr insisted that she both paid them and gave them many perks as subsets of her company, including money to start lives elsewhere if they so wished– bring them breakfast and wine. Daario told her that his master had died a few months after her departure from Meereen. Daario had earned him so much money that in his final decree, his master made him a free man.

He'd left Meereen immediately and went to find the Stormcrows, who'd accepted him readily. He'd proven in a matter of weeks of odd jobs in the cities of the Red Waste that he was capable of being captain. So, he was promoted. Brynhildr told her story in return, explaining how Oberyn had recruited her to a poor seven-person company that turned into this magnificent six-hundred person force to be reckoned with.

He whistled in amazement. "All it took was four years and a sponsorship from a man with very deep pockets."

"That about sums it up," said Brynhildr, still finding herself so happy that he was here. She felt her mouth ache from being unable to stop smiling. "Though, I swear, I earned my own fame. Oberyn paid for our transport only to an extent."

He narrowed his eyes teasingly, as if he didn't believe her. Brynhildr insisted, "Once we had the numbers and established our name in Volantis, the money became mine. I earned it and I spent it wisely as I kept recruiting. Sometimes they only need a handful of us to track someone down, so I send only a handful of my best trackers. Other times, they need a single person killed– I send a handful of my best killers. I know what every person specializes in and I know how they can best serve this army. Some are better with their blunt force, and so, they mainly help me build ships to sell. In a battle, they'd still be useful with clubs and maces."

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "Commander Lothbrok. Some in your crowd call you 'Princess,' others 'Queen Valkyrie.' You've done well for yourself, Viking lady. And I hear you speak many Essosi languages now."

She shrugged, "I had to learn if I wanted to speak to my people. The variants of the Valyrian are still sometimes hard to remember... some Free Cities have such small differences in words and tones. But I've managed to speak with every one of my recruits, no matter the language. Some speak my language with me as well."

"You command respect, that is why. So, why isn't Prince Oberyn here again? Surely he didn't intend to leave forever."

"He has not returned since he departed," said Brynhildr with a shrug. "We've sent letters back and forth; he was still teaching his daughters to fight the last time we had an exchange. But a war erupted in Westeros, as you must have heard. His sister is a hostage in King's Landing, the Dragon Prince stole Lyanna Stark from her family. Oberyn has not asked for our aid, but we would give it if he wanted it."

"Perhaps he will come once things settle down. You miss him, don't you?" Daario wiggled his eyebrows, "You fancy him."

"I am not sure I fancy him," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "I want to fancy him, maybe. I haven't found another that makes me feel as he did. But it cannot be certain until he returns." Not wanting to divulge all her feelings, she prompted, "And you? You said the Stormcrows are mostly around Qohor. Have you found a sweetheart to fill your time with?"

Daario hummed pensively, lips pursed as if he considered very carefully what to say. At last, he decided on, "No."

Brynhildr couldn't imagine that to be the whole truth. "Why?"

"I'm not sure I'm interested enough in some sweetheart."

"Perhaps because you've always been so focused on becoming a captain of the Stormcrows. Yet, now you are one. Now, you can begin thinking of other things you may want to have in your life."

"Here's my issue with it," said Daario, dipping back to the table to drink more wine. "See, if you're in love, you're vulnerable. You have something to lose. If you love someone like family or like a friend, it's not the same as loving someone like they're your other half. It's riskier, especially when they can't protect themselves. I don't want to rope a random woman into my life, knowing how it is. Have you tried simply bedding people without commitment? That feels safer."

"I have tried it. It doesn't work for me that way, I don't know why. I don't feel relieved at the end of it. All I imagine is that it's not enough. I want that connection, I think. I want someone to love, someone to love me. I still don't feel my greatest purpose has been found. It's time I start listening to what I want and seeing what I can gain from it. Perhaps the answer to all my questions about my fate will come from me taking some sort of control over this life I now live."

He thought about it. "I see. While I sought approval and admiration from a company, you simply accepted what was handed to you. These people adore you but that's not what you wanted. You didn't know what you wanted until you had it and it was taken away. So, love intrigues you."

"My mother did say I wouldn't find love in my lands," said Brynhildr. "I never knew what type of love she meant, but clearly, I found nothing more than familial love there. Here, I have that again. I have a love between friends. But lately I wonder about romantic love, about the love mothers have for their children, if I want it or– I don't know, it's stupid. Let me not mar your experience here with my talk of feelings."

"No, no, have at it," insisted Daario. "I always liked that I could talk to you about anything. Gods, when you arrived, you hardly knew the language but you'd still listen to me no matter what I said. You'd try to talk back with me." He smiled to himself, "I wished my master had sold me to Oberyn, if only to follow you."

She tilted her head. "You did?"

"Yes." He seemed to want to say more, but instead stood up. "Why don't you show me around Braavos? I've never been here before." Deciding not to question his sudden silence, Brynhildr followed him out, assigning the watch to her other captains and leading him into Braavos.

It was her favorite of all the cities she'd been to. A hundred islands linked together by small stone bridges spanning canals that swept through the city like strange tendrils taking hold wherever the light touched. As they walked, she pointed out which islands bore humbler people, their houses tightly packed together. She noted where the Braavosi had built structures to purify the water, forming an aqueduct that fed into a sweetwater river that gave everyone in the area clean water.

Brynhildr showed him where each bridge led, what each canal fed into. The Canal of Heroes fed beneath the great Titan of Braavos, flanked by statues of deceased Sealords. She showed him the Isle of the Gods, where one could find the shrine of the Weeping Lady of Lys, the Gardens of Gelenei, and the wooden hall of the Lord of Harmony. Out of respect for her deal with the Faceless Men, they steered clear of the House of Black and White.

She walked him along the Green Canal, leading to the Palace of Truth, and the Black Canal, leading to Ragman's Harbor. She showed him the oldest part of Braavos, Drowned Town, where most of the town had fallen into the lagoon, housing the poorest of their people. Near its gates was the Spotted Cellar, where eel fights were held. They inspected several of the ports, including Chequy Port, where the ships arriving to Braavos first passed inspection.

From there, they went to find large landmarks. The Sept-Beyond-the-Sea for the Westerosi, the Temple of the Lord of Light for the followers of R'hllor, and of course the magnificent Iron Bank of Braavos. All sorts of Braavosi called out to them in song or in word, their robes a variety of muted colors or bright colors to note them as either wealthy merchants or sword-wielders. They stopped to watch a street fight, a random challenge that could be made for anyone holding a sword to their belt. Brynhildr pointed out to Daario the differences of the Braavosi water dance to that which the rest of them used in the fighting pits of Meereen.

"The Sealord is very kind to us," said Brynhildr as they walked back to Valkyrie Keep. "His name is Ferrego Antaryon, and he is steadily growing older, which means he doesn't mind us as long as we don't cause trouble. His First Sword, Qarro Volentin, comes to check in every now and then. As long as we keep the peace, we are allowed to stay."

"Well, you make it sound so wonderful," said Daario, munching the goat meat off a thin wooden stick Brynhildr had bought for him at the market. "Perhaps I should ask the Stormcrows to move here from Qohor."

"You should," she agreed. "Perhaps our companies could be friends, as we are."

"I'd like that. Have each other's backs– we'll need that. My other captains might not like it, but they cannot deny you're a very good ally to have. In a time of need, I can think of no better savior than a Valkyrie."

He came to a stop in front of a vendor with a crate of flowers, flipping him a coin and plucking one up. "For you," he said to Brynhildr, who smiled and put it under her nose, inhaling the sweet smell of honey.

"Thank you," she said simply, tugging her braid over her shoulder and pinning it into her hair. "I wouldn't have taken you for a man who knew anything about flowers. You used to joke that I was a witch for my knowledge of plants."

"Only a joke," he clarified. He continued to walk at her side, "I did miss you a lot, Mineri. I thought about you often."

She wondered if he meant in the way he implied. "You thought of me," she repeated. "Even though that might have held you back from your goal?"

"No, it wouldn't have done that. I hoped you would be part of the goal. You became my closest friend and I did not enjoy the pits so much when you were gone. I did wish I could have gone with you. If I am to have one constant in this life, let it be you. You are a part of my story, same as I am part of yours."

Brynhildr pursed her lips, still smiling. "And yet you claim to be uninterested in love because it is risky. Is it not risky to care for me the way you seem to?"

"It's less risky. See, you asked me if I'd found a sweetheart, but I am not interested in a sweetheart. In a woman who will wait for me when I go places she cannot follow me to. I don't want to risk falling in love with someone who can't protect themselves, if I'm to risk falling in love at all. You see, I don't crave the connection you do because I feel I have it. It's only about... seeing if it's true or not."

"True or not," she repeated his words again. "Do you mean... between you and me?"

"I admit, I convinced my captains that I came to find you in the hopes of a partnership between our companies. But also to see if things between us could be different now that we are both free, now that we are in positions of leadership. Though, you did say you might want to fancy Oberyn Martell. I don't wish to get in the way of that."

"I've still been searching for the answer to whether that is real or not. Something I want or not. Oberyn is not here. And if I want something... I can want two of that something, can't I?"

Daario began to smirk. "You think, if you were to find yourself able to love, you might want to love... both of us?"

She shrugged. "Why not? I say we test it out, Daario. You came here looking to see what I felt for you. And I still want to see what I feel myself. Perhaps if we try, we'll know. It could offer us both clarity."

"Very well," said Daario. "Then, I propose this. Tonight, after we've both had a moment to rest and clean ourselves up after all that walking, we meet at your Keep and we discuss... everything. Except–" He wagged a finger playfully in her face, "Except our companies. We cannot talk about our work. Only other things. Do you agree?"

"I agree." She came to a stop, gesturing to the edge of his camp. "I will see you this evening, then."

_

She was nervous, which was a first. She hadn't been nervous when she first asked Oberyn to teach her about sex, she hadn't been nervous when she took control of the Valkyries.

Yet, it was entirely different to think of herself and Daario like this. He'd been what she first attached herself to, what brought her comfort when she was still confused and adjusting to her new reality. Daario had been entertaining but she'd never dared to think of him as someone she'd become romantically involved in, probably because she hadn't thought it could amount to anything at the time. Not something the gods would sanction.

Now the opportunity was spread before her. Give feelings a try, directly, to see if anything came of it. Perhaps it would help her discover what she truly craved in the love she sought. It might be that she was confusing romantic love for sexual love and only wished for fulfillment, while seeking adoration in another form.

And perhaps she'd find, in fact, that she did want the love only close friends like this could provide. A love the gods would have surely denied much earlier if it went against their will.

She chose not to wear armor, to show she was open to whatever the conversation would bring. She opted instead for a dress, from the pile she kept only for special occasions that did not require she be on her guard. It was blue, and reminded her of a gown her mother once wore, one that Brynhildr used to imagine she would wear if she ever sat the throne of Kattegat.

Daario arrived in a similar unarmed fashion. A sailor's shirt tucked loosely into his trousers, hair left to flow free as she'd done with hers. "Commander," he greeted, side-eyeing the shield-maidens who glared at him as he passed into the house. He held up his hands. "I come unarmed."

"That's not what they're thinking," said Brynhildr with a smirk. "For even if you were armed and I wasn't, they know I could kill you." She looped her arm with his, "Some of them get jealous, others get protective, most don't really like men, it's why they come to my company."

"But you have men in the Valkyries. Your Einherjar make up at least ten percent of the company."

"Yes, but they are not like most men. They adhere to my words and my words only. They do not do as most sellswords do, raping and stealing and letting their anger take a hold of them." She shook her head, "We're not supposed to be talking about work."

Daario smirked. "You're right, we're not. So, I was thinking, I know about your past and you know about mine. We've spoken of our present, yet neither of us know about our futures. I want to know what you envision for yours."

She furrowed her eyebrows in thought. Humming to herself, she opened the doors of her chambers and beckoned him to where her couches had been moved around a table filled with fruit and candies. "My future. I suppose I want to continue improving myself. I know I can always be better. I wish to test my limits as the years go on. You?"

"Me, too," said Daario, taking a seat. "Though, I want to make a difference somewhere. Like you have. I want to be known somehow... perhaps I saved some children about to drown, perhaps I used my wealth to give an old woman what she needed to buy a ship and return to her homeland."

"How do you think you might accomplish that?" asked Brynhildr, lowering herself onto the opposite couch and plucking up some fruit.

He shrugged. "Somewhere along the way. It's like you say, the gods have laid out a path for you. I think it'll happen on that path. Wherever I have the opportunity to do good, to be more than a sellsword, I will." He sighed, rubbing the back of his head. "I don't wish to talk about work but I do wish to say that I admire how you make ships and weapons to sell. You literally sell swords aside from your own."

"I'm sure the Stormcrows could find a practice like that to reap more from."

"I don't know if we're the type of people for that. You came here with your father's same dream of exploring, with the love of boats you acquired from Floki. With the devotion to your gods taught by your mother and Helga. You knew your purpose would be great and so you pooled all your knowledge into this. That is why you are so successful. Your creativity knows no bounds. The Stormcrows aren't like that."

She tilted her head. "But you are a man of your own. Regardless of what the Stormcrows are, you are their captain, and an individual."

"I suppose so. But I don't have these special skills. Only a desire to do good things. I like to fight, I like to kill. But the greatest pleasures in the world... are not entirely in this realm. The gods gave us the great gift of the chance to bed someone who wants to bed us and kill men who want to kill us, first. Yet they also gave us little children who look up to warriors. They gave us mothers who sometimes let go because they don't have enough to give."

He tightened his fist around the air, as if to grasp these things. "I want more from those parts. I want to explore the world and get to know all its people. I want to know what drives them, what fills their head as they dream. Becoming a sellsword meant the freedom to learn these things and to defend myself as I learn them because not everyone will take kindly to me, no matter how inspired I am."

"You crave much from this life," said Brynhildr. "And because of that, I know you will do what you wish. These great and kind things, surely they will have to happen as you explore and appreciate what the gods created. You sound like quite the romantic, Daario Naharis."

He shrugged. "A romantic for life, for the world. I suppose that is why I admire you so much. You always wanted something more even if your vision of it wasn't cleared. Look at you, you've inspired women to take control of their lives. Many of them, they would have been condemned to unhappy marriages, made to squeeze out children until they no longer could. Some would be so poor they'd have to become whores. They had no one to look up to, no one to save them, until you came with this big idea of a female sellsword company."

"I suppose that's true," agreed Brynhildr. "But not all my women have stayed. Some earn enough money and choose to leave— I let them. Everyone wants to take something out of this and I don't begrudge them this enjoyment. It opens their eyes to their true wants, I think. Some do want to be mothers and I give them the means to raise however many children they have. Some want to marry and be taken care of and with their strength, they can choose a husband of their liking."

Daario considered this. "Would you ever want children?"

"I still don't know. I don't think I'd be a good mother. My father wasn't around, my mother was negligent. Floki and Helga were somewhat like parents, yet mostly teachers. Hvitserk was the man I looked to as a true guide in life and... even then I never forgot he was my brother. I don't have an example of what to do."

"I don't think I'd be a good father, either," said Daario. "I never knew mine, and, well, my mother sold me as soon as she could. I wasn't raised by anyone. I admit, though, I get curious sometimes. Not about settling down— I could never sit still. But just being a father. Having a son or daughter and carrying them around with me. Teaching them about what I do and why I do it, watching them grow and seeing if maybe, just maybe, they learn from my mistakes and my hopes and they do something better with what I manage to provide."

It warmed her heart to imagine him so. "Contrary to what you might think, Daario, I believe you could be an excellent father."

"And you an excellent mother." He paused. "If we had a child, would you keep it here?"

"Yes," she said. "If exploring is what you wish, you may do so. You could visit whenever you wanted. But the boy or girl would be raised by Valkyries."

He started to laugh. "I'd expect nothing less, really. Either way, that's a conversation for another time... I don't think either of us is truly ready for children, considering we both feel we'd be terrible at raising them."

Brynhildr nodded slowly. "Perhaps, if we find that we can love one another, our feelings will change. We'll be more confident. We'll be prepared to brave it. I'm only twenty-two, Daario, that still feels young to me."

"Agreed. I feel the same." He stood from his couch and came to sit beside her. She tucked her leg up, raising a challenging brow as if wondering if his next move was to try and kiss her. He didn't immediately touch her. "I think you understand me better than anyone. I think if we really tried, we'd both feel complete."

She scooted closer to him, and only then did he put his hand on her knee. Brynhildr cupped his face and pressed her forehead to his, letting him be the one that tilted his head up to kiss her. Daario pulled her onto his lap, though he drew away to laugh when he felt a knife strapped to her thigh.

"To be fair, I don't go anywhere unarmed," said Brynhildr, giggling as he slowly unclasped it. "It's not because of you."

"No, let it be because of me," he said, nipping at her neck. "I am attracted to you because of your abilities. It magnifies your beauty."

She sighed and let her head roll back as he began removing her dress, kissing her skin as it became visible. Brynhildr ground her hips over his, letting her own hands tug at his shirt until she'd freed him of it. As she lifted her arms to toss it aside, he pushed her onto the couch, hovering over her and sliding the dress the rest of the way off, until he had exposed her bare stomach and was able to kiss it.

She lifted her legs onto his shoulders, letting herself be the first to receive pleasure. She found that this time, her mind wasn't forcing in thoughts of Oberyn— she liked being here with Daario, she liked appreciating him and his talents.

It dawned on her that this feeling she'd been trying to replicate, the one that convinced her that Oberyn was what she needed, it wasn't entirely attributable to him. No, what made sense now was that she didn't feel so good with sex unless the person with her was someone she'd already been close to. Both Oberyn and Daario were the only ones who knew practically every detail of the life she once had.

Brynhildr didn't think she'd mistaken this for love— no, if anything, this made her realize that the feeling hadn't been so far from her grasp. She wanted this and she wanted their emotional proximity. She wanted both of them.

Her mind clouded with this assurance as Daario's tongue flicked between her legs, hands clamped onto her hips to keep her from squirming. As he was catching his breath once she'd gone numb and cried out in delight, she used the opportunity to lay him on the couch instead. He breathed hard in anticipation as her hands began to work over him, and he whined a complaint when she straddled him, though facing away.

"I want to look at you," he pleaded, holding her waist as she started to undulate her hips. "Let me look at you."

She glanced over her shoulder. "Beg and I might change my mind."

Instead, he grabbed at her neck and pulled her as far back as she could go, arching his hips until he'd laid her onto his chest. She muffled a whimper of satisfaction into her hand, enjoying how she heard his ragged breaths in her ear, how she felt his heart beating against her back, how his hands could cup both her breasts to hold her down.

As soon as he grew bored of that, he sat them up and pulled her to her window— really just an elaborate opening in her wall that looked down into the courtyard. On the nearest wall, where both of them could still see down into the garden, he picked her up and pinned her there, kissing her firmly as he drove in once more, her back aching pleasurably as it scraped against the cool cement.

It must have taken all of his strength to hold her up and still manage to move his hips so steadily. He let out a Tyroshi curse and dropped his head onto her shoulder, leaning onto her and groaning as he climaxed, perhaps well before he'd intended to.

Slowly, he lowered her to the floor. She kissed his jaw, held onto his arm, and continued to pepper kisses around his face until he'd steadied his breathing. "I couldn't contain myself," he said regrettably. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," she said with a small smile. "I know I have that effect on people." She leapt out of the way before he could playfully pinch her side.

A knock on her door made Daario cease his attempts at tickling her. She reached for her robe and slid it on while Daario went to lay on her bed, still happily naked, most likely expecting to give it another go as soon as she was available.

Brynhildr opened the door a crack, surprised to see both Osric and Shyra. "Yes? What is it?"

"You must come to the great hall immediately," said Osric gravely. "Prince Oberyn has returned."

It didn't sound like a good thing.