"Let's settle into the best inn in Sunspear," he said as he stepped into the carriage.
"Yes, my lord," Esteban replied, and the carriage rolled forward.
It entered the Shadow City as night settled over Sunspear.
The district felt alive in a way the palace never did. Lanterns swayed above narrow alleys, their light trembling across sun-worn stone and uneven walls. Shadows stretched and overlapped in restless shapes, as if the city itself refused to rest. The air carried salt from the sea, spice from distant markets, sweat, smoke, and the faint scent of fruit left too long under the heat. Voices filled every corner—merchants still calling out last bargains, sailors laughing too loudly over cheap wine, footsteps echoing through passages too tight for silence to survive.
Even at this hour, the Shadow City did not sleep. It only changed its noise.
The carriage slowed as they reached a crowded inn, its wooden sign creaking in the sea wind. People spilled out from its entrance, suggesting it was among the better establishments in the area.
Esteban turned slightly. "My lord, remain here. I will arrange your room."
Thaddues nodded without protest.
"Very well."
He was left alone in the carriage, and for a moment there was only the rhythm of distant footsteps and the soft sway of lantern light through the window.
He reached for the book inside his robe, The Tales of Beedle the Bard, its pages already worn from use. He still hadn't finished it. The Martell princesses had made sure of that.
There hadn't been a single quiet moment in the carriage—talk, presence, small interruptions that made reading impossible. He kept telling himself he'd continue later, that he'd return to the third tale once things calmed down.
Even on the way to Sunspear, he was still stuck in it, always "about to continue" but never quite getting there. He'd even planned to finish it tonight if the world finally left him alone for once.
It didn't.
He never returned to the page.
Something shifted.
At first it was faint, almost easy to miss—like a vibration in the air rather than sound or sight. But it wasn't nothing. It was raw, unstable magic forming without intention or control.
His fingers paused. After a moment, he closed the book and stepped out of the carriage.
The trace of magic pulled him deeper into the Shadow City, away from the main streets and into narrower alleys where the light thinned and the noise broke into fragments. He followed it without fully understanding why, only that it grew stronger the further he went, as if its source was still nearby.
Eventually, it stopped.
He saw them.
A woman knelt in a narrow alley, blood running down her temple and staining her cheek. She did not seem to notice it anymore. In front of her stood a man who was already turning away.
"Take my daughter," the woman said, her voice breaking as she clung to what little strength she had left. "She can serve. She doesn't eat much, she won't cause trouble. Please… just let her live."
The man glanced at the child beside her.
A girl stood quietly, age no more than five, pale silver hair falling over her shoulders, violet eyes watching everything and nothing at once. She did not cry or move. She simply existed, still in a way that felt too heavy for someone so young.
"A Targaryen bastard," the man muttered. "A desperate household might still take her in for service, but I want no part of it."
Then he walked away.
No hesitation. No second glance.
The woman remained kneeling as if she had not yet accepted what had happened. Her lips trembled, and for a moment she looked as if she might collapse entirely. Then slowly, painfully, she turned to her daughter.
Despite everything, she forced a smile.
"No worries, my child," she said softly, brushing the girl's silver hair from her face. "We will try again. I will find you a better life than this. I promise you that."
The girl looked at her for a long moment before speaking.
"Can you just keep me, Mama?" Her voice was small, careful. "I won't eat much. Just don't leave me."
The woman froze.
Something inside her broke, though she tried to hide it. A broken laugh escaped her lips, but there was no warmth in it.
"Foolish child," she said gently, her voice shaking. "Even if you ate nothing, what could I give you? I have nothing left. No home, no standing, nothing but ruin."
She swallowed hard, forcing the words out.
"I won't raise you in this. I won't let you become what I've become."
She stood, unsteady but determined, preparing herself to beg another stranger for her daughter's future.
Then she saw him.
Thaddues stood at the edge of the alley, watching.
Something about him made him stand apart from everything around him. Not just his clothes, though they were clearly expensive, but the quiet certainty in the way he stood, as though the filth and desperation of the alley could not reach him.
Hope struck her all at once.
Without hesitation, she pulled her daughter close and walked toward him. When she reached him, she fell to her knees so quickly her forehead struck the ground.
"Please," she said, her voice raw and breaking. Blood still ran from her temple, but she no longer seemed to feel it. "Young man… take my daughter. Show her mercy. She is young, but obedient. Quiet. She will not be a burden to you. She can serve you… I beg you."
Thaddues looked at them, and for a brief moment, the noise of the city seemed distant. Even the raw trace of magic that had drawn him there faded into the background, overshadowed by the sight before him.
A mother kneeling for her daughter's future. He had always known cruelty existed in the world, but seeing it laid bare before him was different. It sat heavier in his chest than he expected.
Behind him, Esteban's voice came carefully. The horseman had finally returned after arranging a room for his young lord, only to find the carriage empty. He searched the surrounding area and soon spotted his master standing in the alley with two beggars before him.
"My lord… shall I have them removed?"
"Wait," Thaddues said quietly.
Then he stepped forward.
The woman lifted her head slightly, hope wavering in her eyes.
"Can you read?" he asked.
She blinked, confused, before quickly nodding, assuming he was speaking about her daughter."She can read simple words, my lord, I teac—"
"No," Thaddues interrupted gently. "I asked you."
A silence followed.
Then something in her eyes shifted, as if a memory she had buried had been pulled back into the light.
"I… I was born to a merchant house in King's Landing," she said slowly. Her voice changed as she spoke, becoming steadier, more refined, like a part of herself she had not used in a long time. "I was educated. I can read, write, and keep accounts."
Her throat tightened as her gaze landed on the ground.
"I was not always like this."
Thaddues studied her for a long moment before reaching into his coin pouch. He bent down and placed five gold coins into her hand.
"Then stand," he said as she lifted her head. Letting her stand, holding her hand. "A woman with courage does not need to kneel to survive. "
Her fingers closed around the coins as if afraid they would vanish. But as an educated woman she knew he had given enough.
"My lord… this is too much."
"Your will to protect her is worth more than these coins."
He looked at the child once more. The sensation from earlier lingered. There was something about her—ike magic that had awakened but not yet settled. Is it because she's a child of the waters?
"Clean yourselves and tend to that wound," he said after a moment. "Return here tomorrow morning."
He let the words settle before adding, "You will both serve me."
Then he turned and walked away.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then she finally broke, tears spilling freely.
Not loudly. Not dramatically. Just finally. Her body folded forward as she bowed again and again in his direction.
"Thank you… thank you…"
The girl stepped closer, uncertain, then followed her mother and bowed beside her.
Once Thaddues is out of sight. The child clearly nervouse asked her mom. "Mama… you're not abandoning me?"
The woman pulled her close at once, holding her tightly as if afraid the moment might slip away.
"No," she whispered. "No, my child. Not anymore."
In the Shadow City of Sunspear, life went on as it always did, but for them, something had changed—and the fate of a Child of the Waters had quietly turned.
TBC
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