Tithe

Tithe looked at Daenery. His body convulsed once as he fought with himself to keep from attacking her again. The bloodthirsty laughter of his father ringing in his mind. Closing his eyes and turning his great head away from the woman he once bowed to he gritted his teeth against the blows that continued to strike him.

”Who are you?”

Who was he?

You are a king.

You are a bastard.

You are nothing, welp.

You are my best friend.

You were born to survive. To lead.

You will be nothing more than dirt beneath my paws.

You are Warden of Spirane

You are a good man.

You are a monster.

I am the bastard son, the only son, of a great woman. I am the wolf who fought for loyalty and honor. He was the wolf who had been betrayed by both. I was the one who dreamed of your return. He was the one bleeding from her knife between his shoulderblades. He was the wolf who had nothing left to stand on save the silent cries that echoed through him. He had not let power blind him until it had been his life on the line.

You are my son.

You? Are my spawn?

Daenerys did not know what she had done to him. When he looked back at her once more his heart twisted with a contrary desire to destroy her and to show mercy. She had broken everything he had meant to be. Almost every trust and faith he had placed in the world and the wolves around him at been torn away by her hands.

She was correct. She did not trust him, he could not trust her. This was a wound it would take more than time to heal. But he would never be the same. As he turned to leave he answered her:

I am the friend you killed.