From: willinnewhaven969@gmail.com   
      
   It was nearly midnight and Grey Worm paced the deck, watching the stars and   
   the smooth warm sea and thinking about the Dothraki. He was responsible for   
   everyone in the armada that was sailing away from Westeros but the horsemen   
   were more trouble than    
   everyone else put together. The three that he was going to put to death in the   
   morning for raping one of his Unsullied were only the latest problem. Their   
   horses weren’t doing well on the sea voyage and the Dothraki themselves were   
   often seasick and    
   could always find alcohol when they weren’t. They were dirty, undisciplined,   
   and violent. Brawling was a daily occurrence and they were better at it than   
   they deserved to be. He had started to regret having to take them along on the   
   first day of the    
   voyage. The Unsullied were not so difficult but he knew that they were not   
   happy. They resented the Dothraki bullying and many of them seemed confused   
   about what had happened at King’s Landing. Unsullied soldiers were always   
   quiet but now many were    
   sullen. Several had simply disappeared over the side.  Only the sailors were   
   failing to cause him problems and he just hoped that the sea voyage itself, at   
   least, would continue to be uneventful.   
   He needed sleep but Missandei wouldn’t let him sleep. She was always there,   
   staring at him sadly and asking him why. She, who had pronounced the sacred   
   word “Drakaris,” she who had served the Queen beside him, now accused him   
   with bitter eyes.    
   Certainly, he had seen her head cut off. That is why he felt the rush of joy   
   when the Queen had not accepted the city’s surrender, when he had been able   
   to throw his spear into the enemy officer. No amount of killing could make up   
   for her death but now    
   she seemed to think that he shouldn’t have killed at all. The fact that she   
   was dead and that he should think it was only a dream did not make him feel   
   any better. He was all right when he was awake, distracted by the difficulties   
   of the voyage, but he    
   could not sleep easily or for long. Perhaps, he mused, he should be grateful   
   to the Dothraki for being such beasts.   
     And beasts they were. He would have two squads of his men beside him when he   
   pronounced sentence in the morning. He had no illusion that he could defeat a   
   Horse Lord in a fight on the deck of a ship. He was a soldier, not a warrior,   
   and he and his men    
   were trained to fight in formation, not to brawl. He decided to ready a third   
   squad.    
   Some of the sailors were looking at the stars and checking their course. They   
   seemed satisfied, so he left them to it. He was a soldier and not a sailor.    
   The sea was starting to get choppy and he foresaw more seasickness among the   
   men and horses in the    
   morning. “Just what we need,” he thought.   
   Then he glanced to his left and there was Missandei, standing on the waves off   
   to the right of the ship. She had a dead child in her arms. He didn’t think   
   it was someone he had killed in King’s Landing but he and his men had killed   
   so many people. It    
   was necessary, it was the Queen’s will. But Missandei’s mouth, the only   
   mouth that had ever touched his, called him a monster. She cradled the dead   
   child in arms that once held Grey Worm close and starred at her lover with   
   eyes filled with anger.   
   With no more refuge in wakefulness, Grey Worm thought of taking refuge in   
   drink. However, his disciplined mind rejected the notion. He looked longingly   
   at the waves but the thought of leaving his mean leaderless in their situation   
   was not acceptable. He    
   accepted that he was going to suffer for the rest of his life and perhaps   
   might one day realize how richly he deserved it.    
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)