章 69: Prince Frog
Prince Frog
Quentyn POV
To say that Theon Greyjoy wasn't intimidating was like saying you didn't fear death. There was a reason he was called the Black King. To stay close to him was nerve-wracking; everything in my body screamed not to move. If you flee, you will die. If you fight, you will die even more horribly.
Only someone like my uncle, Oberyn, the Red Viper, could speak and act freely around Theon Greyjoy. But even then, it didn't fill me with much confidence. I have seen how Theon quickly took my uncle's spear and burned it. After that display, it was clear that he could kill us all without hesitation if he wanted.
Somehow those ridiculous rumors about him didn't sound so absurd anymore. And there were the tactics he implemented at Yunkai. I was there when he planned the battle. I kept quiet and almost hid in the corner. Not many even noticed me. Nobody argued against the plan, and it worked. It worked well.
The battle was nothing but a massacre. Only a few dozen of the Second Sons managed to escape. It was the first time I have killed someone, but it didn't feel like a fight for me. I just rode on my horse and stabbed men who were running or already injured and unable to fight back. It only spoke of how well his tactics worked. Uncle Oberyn was right. He wasn't just a dangerous warrior. He also had intelligence that rivaled my father's.
Just riding near him scared me, but part of me was fascinated. I have never seen such a person as Theon Greyjoy. I wouldn't call him a hero, as he didn't act like one of the stories and was nothing like a knight he should be. But even I know stories were just stories. Still, after seeing what he did in Astapor, he didn't look like a hero of any kind, yet he still fascinated me.
His men revered him. I could see how they looked up at him. Nobody did so with me. I have friends back home. Yet there wasn't a time they looked up to me. I was pathetic compared to Theon. He was the King of the Iron Islands. I was a prince. Prince Frog, as many have called me. That is why I wanted to be close to Theon Greyjoy, no matter what. I wanted to be like him.
Confident, strong, he was even handsome. His pale skin contrasted with his dark eyes and hair. I saw how my cousins had stolen a few glances at him. Even Nymeria started to get closer to him after the battle of Yunkai. And she wasn't someone who particularly liked men. I saw her with women more often than with men.
He was everything I wasn't. That is why I would always try to ride near him, Uncle probably thought I was trying to get close to the Queen Daenerys, but I knew my chances to charm her were null. What could I even offer her? Armies of the Dorne? My uncle could offer that too. And I have not found any man or woman who thought that Oberyn wasn't handsome.
Theon Greyjoy could offer the Ironborn. And from what I heard, he was probably the wealthiest man in the Seven Kingdoms. It wouldn't be surprising after all the gold he pillaged from the Westerlands and the Reach. I only saw a portion of the gold he brought, which was a lot for any lord or merchant.
Theon Greyjoy could buy tens of thousands of sellswords—commission for hundreds of ships to be built. It was more than I could ever offer, and I looked like a frog. Yet I had my task. Get close to Queen Daenerys. I didn't know what my father expected. Maybe he didn't see me as an ugly frog for a son, but surely he knew everyone else did.
What kind of hero can I be? I have no confidence, and part of me feels like my father had thrown me into this so he could get rid of me. Yet, I didn't give up, and I won't. Riding near me was a man I could learn a lot from. How to be a great leader and warrior. I listened to every word Theon Greyjoy said to understand him more. And then we arrived at the first milepost before Meereen.
"Please, Your Grace, avert your eyes," Jorah was pleading to her.
"No," Daenerys simply replied, watching Theon take the nailed child from the milepost.
I wish I were as strong as Queen Daenerys. It took everything I had not to hurl everything I had eaten in the past week. The moment Theon took the child, I turned away. I couldn't watch it. It was too disturbing, too sickening. It wasn't men's work but the result of a beast ruling the lands. Hearing the stories of how the Unsullied were made was terrible already, but seeing with your own eyes what these masters did with children was far above my comprehension.
"I would ask you, Dany, not to think it was your responsibility," Theon said in a rare somber voice as he gave the child to be buried to one of his men. "It was the work of a beast we will hunt and devour."
"Yet, the child would not have suffered so much if it wasn't for me to see," Queen Daenerys replied.
"War is never pretty," Theon said. "You might have heard stories of the Ironborn and what they have done, and most of them are true. We are ugly bastards that relish brutality. Yet even the worst of us wouldn't think of doing this. And we are the worst of the Seven Kingdoms."
I didn't know to whom he was saying this. To the Queen? To himself? Or to his men? Or all of them? It was a clear message to the men around him that he would not tolerate something like this. From the expression of the Greycloaks, they full-heartedly agreed with their king. Looking in the distance, I saw more mileposts, and my stomach hurled. Quickly I separated from the rest.
"You should rest, Quentyn," Oberyn found to me first. "Go, check on the rear."
"No," I disagreed. "I will see it all with my eyes."
"You don't need to."
"But I wish," I replied. "I have to."
I had to see it with my own eyes. I will not listen to stories and what others will say about it. I will experience it myself. It was time I grew up. Theon was only a couple of years older than me, and I was looked down on as a child. Even Queen Daenerys was younger than me, and she acted more maturely. I must step up and stop being a child.
…
Every child after the first looked worse and worse. And I felt worse and worse too. The lands before Meereen were stripped barren. No trees, no wildlife, and no water. The wells were poisoned hundreds of miles from the Meereen to its walls. As Theon Greyjoy said: the masters don't care for anyone but themselves.
If I was not counting the Unsullied and the Ironborn, as well as the sellswords that joined us, there were still more than sixty thousand refugees marching with us. We might be starving if not for the Ironborn Fleet sailing by the sea. Yet, I didn't dare eat much as with each mile. I would hurl everything out. I tried to act strong, but the images of the nailed children on the mileposts will not leave me, and it was more disturbing with each I saw.
I was pathetic. I knew that. Everyone knew that by now too. Then we reached the Meereen. The walls stretch as far as I could see. I heard it was as big as Astapor and Yunkai combined, but seeing is more than believing. The walls were made of multicolored bricks. They weren't old and crumbling like the walls of Yunkai. They stood tall and strong.
"We can't stand for a prolonged siege," Jorah said first after seeing the walls.
"I will not let them go unpunished," Queen Daenerys replied.
"We don't have enough food or other resources to supply everyone, your Grace," Jorah said as he looked at all the people with us. "They burned and salted the lands. Nothing to forage or take from nearby villages."
Before anyone else could discuss our tactics, someone rode out from within the walls of Meereen. Daario quickly explained that it was a champion daring to fight one of our own. Theon laughed and said he could shoot him from where we stood and end his miserable life. But doing so would be cowardly.
The man in white and pink, with a silky cloak adorning his shoulders, was the hero of Meereen. A champion that someone had to meet with. Oberyn offered himself. Daario polished his blades, ready for a battle. Jorah stood tall and pleaded for a chance to prove himself. Only Theon didn't care for it, and I didn't even dream of winning. We were waiting for the Queen's decision when we saw the hero of Meereen unbuckle his belt and piss in front of us.
"Anguy," Theon broke the silence. "Do you want to bet if I manage to hit his cock from here?"
"Hundred gold coins says you can't, your Grace," Anguy, a man with red hair and freckles, replied.
"You right, it would be difficult," Theon seemed to agree. "It is too much of a small target."
Even I chuckled at his words while the Greycloaks laughed. That is what I admired Theon for, the way he can turn an insult around and make his men laugh with few words. It was like his whole essence gave high morale to everyone around him. Even my uncle Oberyn couldn't do so, and everyone knew how loved he was in Dorne.
"Strong Belwas," The Queen chose a man with countless scars on his chest and stomach rather than any of us or her raging blood riders. "Bring me his head."
"Find liver and onions, Whitebeard," Belwas said. "Not for now, for after. Killing makes Strong Belwas hungry."
That was all the man said as he took a sword and a shield. I was worried. Not sending a champion would show that we were afraid, but if our champion lost, the city's morale would be higher than ever, as it would show that we were weak. Yet the Queen was adamant about her decision. So, we could do nothing but watch.
"What do you think, uncle?" I asked Oberyn about Strong Belwas.
"I know he fought in fighting pits before," Oberyn said. "He should be fine. The fighter coming from there are most vicious and dangerous. And his scars show how many battles he fought. The fact that he is alive proves that he has yet to lose. Watch him, and you might learn something."
I watched as Strong Belwas stood his legs wide, and his broad back turned to us as the champion from Meereen rode to him. For a moment, I thought our champion would be impaled, and the fight would be over there and then, but at the last moment, Strong Belwas dodged and let the rider pass him.
"What is he doing?" Queen Daenerys asked. "He could have attacked at that moment."
"He is giving the audience a show," Oberyn replied.
"Or he is just playing with their hero," Theon said. "Humiliate their hero, and you will humiliate them too."
"The lance is too long," Jorah said as Belwas continued to dodge at the last moment another lance and started to laugh. "All Belwas needs do is avoid the point. The fool should ride right over him instead of trying to spit him so prettily."
Then the champion tried to catch Belwas as he dodged, swinging his lance. It seemed that Belwas anticipated that, and instead of spinning away, he rolled through it. I saw his blade shine in the sun as he cut the champion's legs and the horse's side. The scream of the champion silenced the city from their cheering.
The champion quickly leaped on his feet before his horse could fall on him and tried to swing his sword at Belwas. It was a fast blow, leaving Belwas chest bleeding, yet not as fast as Belwas' blade splitting the champion's head. Indeed, I learned something from this fight. Don't fight Belwas, and aim for the head. I saw how Queen Daenerys smiled proudly and had a glint in her eyes as she looked at Theon Greyjoy when Belwas cut the champion's head and held it for all to see.
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