GUEST PALACE – BRAAVOS – NIGHT
The palace given to Kartiga and Daenerys was beautiful, but quiet. Braavosi gold lined the halls, soft torches burned low, and every door was locked tight after dark.
Templars stood watch in shifts, their white armor catching bits of torchlight. They said little. Moved little. Each corner watched. Each step heard.
None were allowed in after nightfall.
None but one.
He wore the robes of a palace guard. Walked like one. Spoke like one.
But he was not one.
He tried the main path. A courtyard. A hall.
The Templars stopped him each time. Calm, firm. He said nothing in return. He only looked at them and turned away.
But he knew something they didn't.
There were other ways.
Ways no one taught.
Ways no map showed.
Because the man with no name had no need of such things.
...
INNER HALL – GUEST PALACE – MOMENTS LATER
The hall was empty. Still. Shadows clung to the walls.
He stepped through a side passage, where no footsteps echoed, where even the rats didn't stir. The door ahead creaked open as if it had waited for him.
Inside—no bed. No comfort.
Only a table.
A jug of wine.
A single chair.
And a man waiting.
Kartiga.
He sat in shadow, only his eyes catching the low firelight. One hand held a wine cup. The other rested near a dagger hilt.
He did not move.
But his voice was steady.
"Valar Morghulis, Jaqen."
The man who entered showed no surprise.
No fear.
From the windows behind him came soft movements—black figures slipping into the room like wind, face-covered Shinobi. Silent. Sharp.
They surrounded the man with no name.
He didn't flinch.
His voice was calm. Hollow.
"Valar Dohaeris."
Kartiga leaned back. "Are you Jaqen?"
The man's head tilted.
"A man has a name," he said. "But it is not important."
Kartiga stood, poured wine into the cup, slow and smooth.
He smiled faintly.
"And a man is no one."
Jaqen said nothing.
Kartiga turned to face him, sipping from the cup.
"So, Jaqen. Tell me—do I owe a debt to your God?"
There was silence.
Then came the answer, slow and distant, as if spoken from far away.
"Death was certain. The time was not."
A pause.
Then:
"But now… even death isn't."
Jaqen's eyes passed over the Shinobi who circled him. Still as statues. Alive, yet not. Breathing, yet not bound to life.
"You do not belong here," Jaqen said. "Nor do those around you."
He glanced to one of the Shinobi.
"They are all dead once. Now they walk as if death is unsure."
Kartiga did not respond. His eyes narrowed.
Jaqen's gaze sharpened.
"Who are you?"
Kartiga smiled, slow and cold.
"A man with many names," he said. "And more to come."
He stepped forward.
"But no true name. No past to bind. No chains to drag."
The wine was gone. The cup placed on the table.
He stepped close enough to meet Jaqen eye to eye.
"So go," Kartiga said softly. "Leave me in peace. Tell your God—he belongs to someone else now.".
Jaqen didn't flinch. His face stayed still. Like carved stone.
No emotion.
No reply.
Then—he stepped back.
One slow step. Then another.
Eyes on Kartiga the whole time.
He walked backward—silent, composed.
The Shinobi followed not just with blades. But with curiosity.
For they had heard of faceless men.
And now, they had seen one.
Step by step, shadows followed a ghost.
Then—
One by one—
They vanished.
Same way they came.
Gone.
.....
Only two remained.
Kartiga.
And Kai.
Kai had stood watching from the shadows, silent and still, until now.
Kartiga said nothing at first. He stared at the door Jaqen had left through. The wine cup still hung loosely in his fingers.
Then, quietly, his voice broke the silence.
"Kai," he said.
Kai stepped forward and bowed.
Kartiga turned his head, just slightly.
"What did he mean… 'they are all dead once… now they walk as if death is unsure'?"
Kai's eyes flickered. His mouth opened slightly.
Then closed.
"I don't know, my lord," he said softly. "Truly."
Kartiga watched him for a moment, then let out a short breath. A tired smile tugged at his mouth—not mocking, just worn.
"Neither do I," he said. "And I've had too much wine to go chasing riddles."
He stepped closer.
Placed a hand on Kai's shoulder.
"You will be Kartiga now," he said. His voice was lighter, almost amused. "Let the name follow you like a shadow."
Then, turning away, he poured the last of the wine into the goblet.
"And I," he said with a faint smirk, "am Caesar."
Kai bowed again. Said nothing.
The torches flickered softly in the hall.
Outside, Braavos slumbered.
-----------------------------
KING'S LANDING – NIGHT – BROTHEL ALLEYWAY
The windows glowed warm in the dark. Red silk curtains swayed with the wind, shadows moving behind them. The night was filled with the scent of wine, sweat, and spiced oil.
And the sounds—
Laughter. Gasps. The thud of a bed against a wall. Pleasure rising and falling like a hymn for the wicked.
A door creaked open.
Out stepped a hedge knight, shirt loose, trousers half-fastened, ass bare to the cold breeze. He didn't care. His grin stretched wide beneath his beard. A bruise bloomed on his neck like a kiss. He gave a drunken whistle.
"Seven bless her," he muttered to himself, turning back toward the open door.
With both hands, he blew a flying kiss into the dark.
A woman leaned out from behind the curtain—hair like black velvet, lips red as fresh blood, skin kissed by gold and shadow. She caught the kiss midair and pressed it to her chest with a smile.
Her smile lingered even as the knight staggered off into the city, humming.
She stayed there in the doorway for a moment longer, framed in the lantern light. Her fingers traced the edge of her mouth, then slid down the length of her arm.
She licked a line along her skin. Slow. Thoughtful.
A small, wicked smile returned.
"I wonder how my Lord would taste," she whispered to herself, voice low, almost playful.
But her eyes told a different story.
Not desire. Not love.
Curiosity. Hunger. Poisoned longing.
The eyes of a Visha Kanya—a maiden raised with venom in her blood, with beauty as her bait and death as her shadow.
She turned slowly from the doorway, her body lit like a statue in the firelight.
And in the silence behind her thoughts, a truth sat still:
The men who shared her bed either died fast…
Or died slow.
But none ever returned with breath to wonder why.
[
Hey guys, I've written up to Chapter 49, and I'm excited to announce that in Chapter 50, Daenerys will officially set foot on Westeros! I hope to finish Chapter 50 by tomorrow. For early access to more chapters, check out my Patreon.
link: patreon.com/AmouxCreationX
]