Game of Thrones: The blind warrior

**Arren's Perspective**

The tension in Astapor had been mounting for days, and Arren could feel it in the air like the calm before a storm. Rumors had reached the city—whispers of a massive Dothraki horde moving closer, ready to make their routine "visit" to collect gifts and tributes. Normally, this ritual exchange was meant to keep the Dothraki from razing cities to the ground. It was a show of power, a reminder that the city was spared only because the horde allowed it.

But things had changed. Astapor wasn't the same slave city it had once been. It was under the rule of Daenerys Targaryen now, the Breaker of Chains, who had no intention of bowing to the Dothraki. She had announced her decision boldly in council: they would not offer gifts. They would not cower. They would fight.

Even the Unsullied—fearless and unmatched in combat—had taken pause at the thought of facing the sheer numbers of the Dothraki horde. Battle against the Dothraki wasn't just a simple clash of armies. It was a clash of culture, of raw chaos and fluid warfare. 

But it wasn't just the looming threat of the Dothraki that worried Arren. Inside the city, unrest had begun to fester. The former slaves, now freed but still fragile in their newfound freedom, were beginning to panic. The whispers of the horde's approach had triggered something primal in them, something deep-rooted from years of oppression and fear.

By nightfall, the first signs of rebellion had begun.

---

**The Revolts Begin**

"Do you hear that?" Grey Worm asked, stepping beside Arren as they stood near the edge of the city's training grounds.

Arren nodded. Shouting, clattering, and the occasional scream echoed through the narrow streets. It started in small pockets—people looting shops, hoarding food, and fighting amongst themselves. The unsullied had already doubled their patrols, moving quickly to stop the chaos before it spread further. But it was growing, like a wildfire feeding off the panic in the city.

"It's fear," Arren said grimly. "They think the Dothraki will raze this city to the ground, and they're trying to take whatever they can before that happens."

Grey Worm frowned. "The queen's decision to fight has made some uneasy."

Arren glanced up at the towering pyramid where Daenerys ruled. Her courage and determination were unmatched, but courage alone wouldn't calm the masses. People had lived as slaves for so long that they couldn't trust in the protection of a new ruler or her dragons. They were still shackled by their fear, and no amount of freedom had erased that.

As night fell, the revolts intensified. Fires broke out in the poorer districts, and citizens turned against one another, stealing from their neighbors and taking advantage of the growing chaos. The Unsullied worked tirelessly to contain the unrest, but they were careful not to use excessive force. The last thing they needed was to turn the freed people against them.

The streets were teetering on the edge of full-scale anarchy.

---

By dawn, the situation had reached a breaking point. As Arren walked through the city's market square, he saw it: destruction and disorder everywhere. It was enough to make his blood boil. Was this what freedom had given them? Had the chains been broken only for them to destroy themselves at the first sign of danger?

The square was packed with desperate, angry people. He could hear their muttering, their curses toward the queen and her council. They were afraid, and fear was driving them to madness.

Arren knew that if something wasn't done soon, the city would tear itself apart before the Dothraki even arrived.

Taking a deep breath, Arren strode into the middle of the square, climbing up onto a broken stall to elevate himself above the crowd. He looked out over the sea of faces—people who had fought so hard for their freedom, now crumbling in the face of a threat they hadn't even seen yet.

Without hesitation, he began.

"You think you're free, do you?" Arren's voice rang out, cutting through the noise like a blade. People turned to look at him, confused by the challenge in his tone.

"You think because the chains were broken, you're no longer slaves?" he continued, his voice rising with each word. "Look at yourselves! Stealing, looting, fighting your own brothers and sisters. You're still slaves! Slaves to fear, slaves to the past!"

The crowd stirred, some muttering in protest, others falling silent as his words sank in.

Arren stepped forward, his voice gaining more power, more fire. "You cower in the streets like whipped dogs, terrified of a threat that hasn't even arrived. You think the Dothraki will show mercy to people who have already broken themselves?"

He pointed toward the horizon where the horde was rumored to be approaching. "Out there, the Dothraki are coming. Yes, they're ruthless. Yes, they're many. But if you don't stop tearing this city apart, you might as well open the gates and let them in yourselves. Because right now, you're doing their work for them!"

A hush fell over the crowd, eyes wide and filled with the realization of their own actions. Arren wasn't finished.

"You think Queen Daenerys, or I, or the Unsullied can save you if you won't even stand up for yourselves? You think your freedom was given to you without a price? No! You earned it. You fought for it! And now, you're throwing it away because of fear? What's worse—dying on your feet or living on your knees again?"

The crowd was shifting now, the panic beginning to turn into something else—something stronger. Arren's words were like fire, igniting the spark of resistance that still lay within the hearts of the freedmen.

"We fought for this city!" Arren shouted, his voice echoing through the square. "You fought for it! And now, you're going to give it away because you're afraid of a horde? No! You stand and fight. You fight for what you've built, what you've won! And we will show the Dothraki that we are not slaves anymore!"

A roar of agreement began to ripple through the crowd, growing louder with each passing second. The former slaves, who had been so ready to tear each other apart, now felt the weight of their past lifting off their shoulders. They weren't slaves. Not anymore.

They were free. And they would defend their freedom with everything they had.

---

**The People of Astapor Rally**

The mood in the city shifted rapidly after Arren's speech. The people, no longer filled with the same desperate fear, began to organize themselves. They worked alongside the Unsullied, setting up barricades and defenses throughout the city. The former slaves who had no formal training in combat were tasked with building fortifications, sharpening weapons, and preparing the city for a siege.

Astapor was coming together in a way it hadn't before. The dragons—though powerful—remained a secret weapon, held back for the right moment. They would not be revealed to the Dothraki just yet. Their full strength was not ready, and Arren knew that once the dragons showed their power, they had to be decisive.

The people, meanwhile, took on the role of defenders, standing shoulder to shoulder with the Unsullied. The revolt had turned into a rallying cry, and the city now buzzed with the energy of preparation, not panic.

---

**Later, in the Queen's Chambers**

Arren stood before Daenerys, his heart still pounding from the intensity of the day. The queen looked at him with a mixture of pride and curiosity.

"Your speech has stirred the people," she said, her voice soft but strong. "They were ready to tear this city apart, but now they're building it up."

Arren nodded. "They just needed a reminder of what they fought for. Fear can turn people into their own worst enemies."

Daenerys smiled, a faint glimmer of amusement in her eyes. "You called them slaves. Bold words."

"They needed to hear it," Arren replied. "Freedom isn't just about breaking chains. It's about standing tall even when you're afraid."

Daenerys studied him for a moment, her violet eyes thoughtful. "You've given them hope, Arren. Hope that they can fight, that they can survive."

Arren's gaze was steady. "They'll fight. And when the Dothraki come, we'll be ready."

Daenerys nodded, her determination unwavering. "We will. And when the time comes, the dragons will fly."

Arren knew then that Astapor was ready for the storm. The Dothraki horde would come, but they would not find a city trembling in fear. They would find a city ready to defend itself—people who had once been slaves, now ready to fight for the freedom they had earned.