Game of Thrones: The blind warrior

**Arren's Perspective**

The early morning air was still cool in Astapor, though the heat of the day would soon begin to rise. Arren stood at the edge of the city's main square, overseeing the daily routines of the Unsullied as they patrolled and kept order. The city was slowly transforming, but the chaos of freedom still lingered in the minds of the former slaves. 

His blindfold was as much a part of him as his sword. The world around him was a blur of sounds, vibrations, and movements, and it had become second nature to navigate without his sight. But today, something felt different. There was a tension in the air, something pulling at his attention.

A soft rustling came from behind him, and he turned his head slightly as Irri approached, her footsteps light but purposeful. 

"Arren," she called, her voice a mixture of respect and concern. "A letter has come for you."

Arren's head tilted in curiosity. He hadn't expected any communication from the outside world, not now. He took the letter from her hands, feeling the rough parchment and recognizing the familiar seal of his parents. The sight—or rather, the feel—of the letter stirred something deep inside him. His heart skipped a beat.

*Jorek. Lysa.*

He hadn't heard from them in so long. The warmth of happiness swelled in his chest for a moment before he carefully broke the seal and opened the letter. Irri watched him closely, sensing the sudden shift in his demeanor.

Arren's fingers traced the letters, his mind working quickly to absorb the contents. As he read, however, the warmth quickly faded, replaced by a growing sense of dread.

*Mary... she's coming after me.*

The words blurred together as his thoughts raced. His sister, barely more than a girl, was wandering through Essos, alone and searching for him. How had this happened? Why had she left their home? And worse yet, why now?

Irri stepped back, recognizing the tension in his shoulders. Arren's jaw clenched as he rolled the letter back up and tucked it into his belt. He needed to speak to Daenerys. And Doreah.

---

Inside Daenerys's chambers, the soft glow of morning light filtered through the canvas walls. The queen sat by her desk, her brow furrowed as she poured over plans for the city's continued transformation. Doreah stood nearby, her keen eyes studying the maps that Daenerys laid out.

Arren entered quietly, his presence like a shadow slipping into the room. Daenerys glanced up, sensing the seriousness in his steps. "Arren, what is it?"

Arren paused, feeling the weight of the situation press against him. For a moment, he struggled to find the words, something that rarely happened to him. "I've received a letter from home."

Doreah turned her head, curious. "Good news, I hope?" she asked.

Arren shook his head, tension evident in his posture. "No. My sister… Mary. She's coming to find me. She's out there, somewhere, traveling alone through Essos."

Daenerys's expression softened with concern, her eyes searching Arren's face. "Your sister? How old is she?"

"Fifteen," Arren said quietly, his voice strained. "Too young to be wandering out there alone. I don't know how far she's gotten, or if she's even still on the right path."

Doreah frowned, stepping closer. "This is serious. What should we do?"

Arren's mind raced with conflicting thoughts. He wanted to send someone after her, to bring her to safety, but he knew that exposing his family in this way could be dangerous. Enemies were everywhere, and if anyone discovered that he had a sister, they would use her against him. His life had become one of shadows and danger. His sister didn't belong in this world.

It was Missandei's soft voice that broke the silence. "Perhaps it's best not to send anyone."

They all turned to her, Daenerys raising an eyebrow in question. Missandei's calm, measured tone carried wisdom beyond her years. "If word spreads that you care for her, that you sent someone to find her, it could make her a target. It might be safer to let her come on her own. The fewer people know about her, the better."

Arren's hands tightened into fists at his sides. "You mean let her wander through this dangerous land alone, hoping she'll find her way here?"

Missandei nodded gently. "It may be the only way to protect her. Once she's here, you can keep her safe. But until then, keeping her hidden from those who would harm you is your best option."

Arren fell silent, his mind swirling with doubt and frustration. Every instinct screamed at him to protect his sister, to go out there and find her himself. But Missandei was right. If anyone knew he had someone he cared for, they would use it against him. He had already made too many enemies by being at Daenerys's side. 

Daenerys placed a hand on his arm, her touch warm. "Missandei's right, Arren. It's a difficult choice, but we'll be here when she arrives. She will find her way."

Arren nodded, though his heart ached with the weight of the decision. He had to trust in his sister's strength. She would find her way. She had to.

---

#### **Barristan Selmy's Perspective**

The clamor of King's Landing had become distant now, a memory that haunted Barristan Selmy as he walked through the streets of Astapor. His steps were heavy, not from the burden of age, but from the weight of betrayal that still gnawed at his heart.

The day he was stripped of his title as Kingsguard was etched into his mind, a wound that still stung. Barristan had served the Targaryens loyally, had fought for them with all his strength. He had seen rulers come and go, but never had he expected the cruelty of being dismissed by a boy king, Joffrey Baratheon. 

*It never would have happened if Tywin Lannister were there,* Barristan thought bitterly. The old lion had left the capital in an attempt to bring back his captured son, Jaime, by torching the Riverlands. In his absence, chaos had reigned, and Barristan had been cast aside as if his years of service meant nothing.

He remembered the humiliation, the words ringing in his ears as Joffrey smirked down at him from the Iron Throne, surrounded by sycophants. "You're too old to protect anyone," the boy had said, his voice dripping with disdain. The council had looked on in silence, none of them willing to challenge the boy king's cruel whims.

"I am a knight," Barristan had said, standing tall even in the face of his dismissal. "I have served the realm for decades."

"And now you're done," Joffrey had sneered, waving a hand dismissively. "Be gone, old man."

That moment had broken something inside Barristan. For the first time in his life, he felt truly lost. He had sworn to protect the realm, but now he had been cast out, left without a purpose. He had wandered, searching for meaning, until the whispers of Daenerys Targaryen reached him. A Targaryen, alive and in Essos. His duty, it seemed, had not ended.

Now, as he stood at the gates of Daenerys's camp in Astapor, Barristan felt a flicker of hope. He had failed the Targaryens once before, but he would not fail again.

He entered the camp, his heart heavy with the weight of his past. The Unsullied led him to her tent, and as the flap was pulled aside, he saw her—Daenerys Stormborn, the last hope of House Targaryen.

Daenerys rose to greet him, her expression curious yet calm. "Who are you?" she asked, her voice steady.

Barristan knelt before her, his old bones creaking with the effort. "I am Barristan Selmy, once of the Kingsguard. I have come to offer my sword in your service, my queen. I failed to protect your family, and for that, I can never atone. But if you would have me, I will serve you until my last breath. Or, if you wish, I will give my life here and now."

Daenerys regarded him for a long moment, her violet eyes piercing. The silence stretched on, the weight of his words heavy between them.

"You are willing to die here, in front of me, to prove your loyalty?" Daenerys asked, her tone laced with intrigue.

"I am," Barristan said, his voice unwavering.

Daenerys glanced at Arren, who stood silently by her side. A flicker of something passed between them, an unspoken understanding. "You will not die today, Ser Barristan," she said finally. "But I do not take men into my service lightly. I will test your mettle. You will fight my most trusted warrior."

Barristan lifted his head, meeting her gaze with quiet resolve. "Who must I face?"

Daenerys nodded toward Arren. "You will fight him."

Arren stepped forward, his blindfold in place, his presence commanding. Barristan rose to his feet, his eyes narrowing as he regarded the man before him. He had heard the stories of the cursed warrior, of his unmatched skill in battle. This was no ordinary test.

"I accept," Barristan said