King's Landing was in a rather delicate situation as of now. King Jaehaerys nor his dragons could find the young prince, lost in distant lands.
And the recent news of Zalarys murdering Saera reached them too. This devastated the good Queen, knowing that her dear daughter, who was forsaken by her own family, was no longer among the living.
Yet even though Saera wasn't worthy of her love at this point in time, she still loved her.
A mother's love is like a flame, a blazing inferno of burning passion and longing, an inextinguishable light that no wind, rain, or cold can touch. And as such, Alysanne locked herself in her chambers, crying and sobbing and screaming, refusing to accept the fact that Saera had died.
And she wasn't killed just by any man, but by the hands of her own grandson. Not only was her daughter dead, but Zalarys was now a kinslayer.
What could be more heartbreaking than her own family tearing itself apart? She didn't know why Zalarys would have done such a thing at first, not listening to reports in a fit of anguish, but then she learned that Saera not only seduced her grandson but also tried to assassinate him and steal Murghagon.
And while that was enough justification in the eyes of law and man, in the eyes of the gods, it wasn't. A kinslayer is cursed, fated for damnation, forsaken by the gods for spilling the blood of his own.
And thus, Zalarys was named a kinslayer, an abominable prince with enough cruelty and ruthlessness to slay his own family without hesitation.
But little did they know the sorrow and rage the little prince felt when his beloved partner was almost taken away, and thus they could never understand the love and the bond between a dragon and his rider.
Yet what he felt, or what happened, was meaningless, as much as the truth. People didn't care about any of that, nor did the lords. It was as if they needed something to talk about, someone to gossip about, and the young prince was perfect for that, a way to waste time or socialize.
However, the prince didn't care about what people thought about him, nor the lords, only his family. Yet even that was overshadowed by a deep aching pain, the weight of understanding and pity.
Because he was staring at the man... no, he wasn't a man, he was just a boy, like he was. With dark obsidian skin and onyx, reflectionless eyes, resembling his master.
But he wasn't as composed or stern-looking as Hihkran. There were numerous white scars across his body, his tongue was removed, making strange noises with his lips cut off, and he was a seven-foot-tall giant.
He was menacing, his presence unnerving, making everyone who saw him involuntarily shrink back from the sheer horror and dread they felt.
Zalarys too felt that terror at first, yet as he observed him, he realized that Shadow wasn't a beast. In fact, he was truly gentle and kind soul, patting a big rat in his arms and trying to speak despite his lack of a tongue.
Yet the rat was dead. Its body was crushed, as if someone had stepped on it, shattering every bone in its small body.
But Shadow was still treating it as if the rat was alive, while tears were streaming down his face.
Seeing this, Zalarys couldn't help but swallow hard. This scene reminded him of his dragon and himself, and he couldn't help but feel melancholic as he wiped his own eyes.
A man without a voice, a man without love, a man without freedom, a man without family, a man without peace, and now, a man without a friend.
Zalarys didn't know what to say. But if he had disliked slavery before, now that distaste intensified, turning into boiling anger and raw, murderous hatred, so intense and overwhelming that he felt like murdering the man who was standing next to him. His eyes went wide open as he gritted his teeth, barely keeping himself from unsheathing his dagger and slitting his throat.
"Isn't he a marvelous beast?" the Old Blood, the owner of Shadow, said with a pleasant smile.
Zalarys remained motionless for some time, and only gave a small nod with an expressionless face.
Seeing his response, the slaver was a bit alarmed, thinking the young man didn't like the product, but the Free Cities were famous not for military power but for economy and their merchants.
So he cleared his throat, trying to reason with him with an amiable smile, speaking in a polite tone. "I understand that he's an ugly abomination, but trust me, he's very strong. If you take-"
"Just tell me your price and I'll consider it." Zalarys tilted his head, locking his mismatched green and purple eyes with the man, not giving a damn about his flattery, wanting to be done with this as soon as possible.
The man blinked in surprise, nevertheless it was a pleasant one, bowing with a polite smile and naming his price with delight. "Two thousand honors, my dear sir. I do know that it's a bit expensive, but you have to understand how valuable Shadow is."
"Deal." Zalarys spoke calmly, his eyes cold and piercing as he took out valuable stones that Saera had owned before he killed her and handed them to him without arguing, much to the slaver's disbelief.
"This much should be enough, correct?" he asked, looking at him, who was staring at the stones with wide, shocked eyes that eventually were shadowed by a greedy smile, splitting his face like the maw of a beast.
"Why, of course it is." He laughed in exhilaration, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.
"Enough." Zalarys's voice snapped the slaver out of whatever he was thinking about. "Tell me about him."
"What do... oh, you mean his behavior? Have no worries, my good sir. He's calm and he obeys." He smiled amiably, holding his hands together with a satisfied look.
"I see..." Zalarys exhaled. "You can leave. Thank you for your service."
The man nodded and walked back, leaving his client to take a look at his possession.
Zalarys stared at him and only opened the cell when he left, stepping inside and observing Shadow, who was trying to sing for the dead rat and was failing miserably.
Crouching in front of him, Zalarys sighed while Shadow ignored him, still caressing the rat's fur.
"You know... I thought my life was miserable because I had no inheritance... Or maybe because I wasn't given any attention by my parents, doing all sorts of odd things, disappearing, hunting, and sometimes being cruel too just to feel seen..."
He took a seat next to him, leaning against the wall with a sigh, he was like a newborn child beside him.
"I don't know... everything felt so peaceful and perfect in King's Landing..." he said, exhaling softly as he recalled his life. He had everything back then, family, money, food, servants, a home, dragons, clothes... everything anyone else would dream about, really.
So now, staring at Shadow, with nothing, not even a choice of his own, he felt shame. He couldn't explain this feeling, nor could he give it a name.
Why had everything become so cruel and revolting the moment he stepped out of the Red Keep? There were his family, dashing knights, lords, and beautiful ladies in his home, but here... the world wasn't so bright.
It was hell. And worse was the fact that people had grown so used to living in this hell that it had become their daily life...
Compared to them, he had been living in heaven.
So why did facing this simple truth felt so pathetic? So disgusting?
Was it because he had spent his whole life complaining, demanding things and wanting more and more? Never being satisfied, like a pig?
When those people never voiced their sorrows and pain, being satisfied with what little they had and wanting nothing but freedom and peace...
The difference between the quality of their souls was starkly clear... it was as clear as the difference between black and white.
And Zalarys would have been blind not to see it... no, people chose to act blind, to avoid seeing the harsh truth and instead live in a beautiful lie...
Perhaps... if I marry someone one day, have children, and my lineage survives, then maybe my descendant will break this endless, cruel wheel...
He smiled faintly, his eyes regaining their luster as he thought of that, his gloomy face softening as he turned around to face Shadow.
"He was your friend, right?" he asked, glancing at the rat in his hand with a warm smile while Shadow remained unmoving. The slaver didn't even notice, or didn't care, that he was crying.
Maybe this little rat was his only companion in this hell... no one could say for certain. Maybe he valued this so-called disgusting creature more than any man, like Zalarys valued Murghagon more than anyone else.
"The rat is dead... I'm sorry, but you have to let it go... such is life. Every single one of us is born only to inevitably die."
He stood up, forcing Shadow to look up at him, his tone energetic and charismatic. "But you're still alive. Your heart is still beating, and your blood is still flowing and boiling with vitality. Sorrow isn't bad, but remaining as you are for eternity is the worst curse one could carry..."
He gave him his hand, his expression turning solemn as he said, "I know you can hear me... and I know you can see me. So take my hand. Don't rot here in this darkness, but come and follow me."
Shadow couldn't speak, but Zalarys could see in the depth of his dark eyes a longing and desire, sparking, pitiful and weak, but it was there, ready to become an ember, and then blazing flames.
And indeed , they did, life and luster returning to the gentle giant's piercing eyes as he dragged his body up and took his hand.
"But first... we need to give your little friend a fitting end... let's go..."
They left the castle and its rotting underground, appearing on green land with towering trees and flowers, digging into the ground, and Shadow placed the rat gently into it, staring as Zalarys covered the hole with dirt with melancholic eyes.
But as Zalarys was burying the rat, Shadow turned around and left, leaving the boy confused, but the moment he came back, everything became crystal clear.
He held beautiful sunflowers in his arms, dropping to his knees and planting the flowers beside the grave clumsily, not knowing how to properly do it since all he remembered and knew was war.
Yet kindness always finds a way, so does hope, and eventually he managed to do it. And on his little friend's grave, dazzling flowers were facing the sky, they would wither and die when winter comes, but when spring appears and the coldness is washed away by warmth, glowing flowers still rise and bloom on the grave of a creature of the night.
Standing up, Shadow glanced at Zalarys, steeling his resolve as his expression hardened, wiping his eyes and dropping to his knees, his head low, thinking that if he had to be owned by someone, it would be best if it was a kind boy like him.
His thought process was even more tragic, because he didn't even think about the possibility of becoming free. As if the idea itself was nothing but an illusion, and chasing such dreams would only bring disappointment and pain.
"Why are you kneeling... you aren't my slave, Shadow." Zalarys said, his solemn expression gradually softening, a warm smile blooming as his face brightened.
Shaking his head, he smiled wryly, complicated emotions flashing in his eyes as he crouched in front of Shadow, facing him and grabbing his enormous arm, dragging him to his feet with great difficulty.
Shadow didn't know what was happening, why his new owner knelt too, why he was helping him to stand, or why he said he wasn't a slave anymore. What was he then? He knew no life other than being a slave, so his actions brought him nothing but confusion, yet deep beneath the surface there was sadness and pain.
He didn't know why he felt this way, or why he felt his stomach churning, but one thing was clear. If tears could be brought by happiness, then the ones flowing from his eyes would unmistakably be exactly that.
Zalarys nodded to him, he too felt happy. Emotion was so bizarre, yet not unpleasant.
It felt like Shadow's happiness made him happy too. And showing kindness wasn't such a bad thing.
"It's over... look forward, not behind. And you will see me..."
And truly, Shadow did, watching a boy with white-gold hair obscuring the light of the sun, as if he was the sun itself.
His eyes widened as he opened his mouth, the sight was revolting and horrifying, with no lips and no tongue, but then Zalarys looked back with a bright smile.
"Follow me and I will show you freedom. Follow me and I will show you life. Follow me and I will show you the world... follow me and..."
He grinned, the sun rising from the dark horizon, bathing the world in its gentle light, nurturing life and giving warmth to all.
"I will show you..." He spread his arms wide, laughing loudly.
"The light!"
And at this moment, Zalarys Targaryen became the rising sun, and cast the colossal shadow that swallowed the land and the grass alike.
***
[A/N: What do you think, guys? I really tried, so was it good?