Willdeen, Raymond Willdeen .

Lario's POV

I did it. I escaped. It cost me the life of my only friends and a man I considered a brother, but I escaped. Even if I died here, it would have been worth it. At the very least, I showed the gods I would not die a slave. As much as I would want to joke about it, the thought of death was heavy on my shoulders like a cloak that weighed the entire world. I couldn't shake off these thoughts as I looked down at my stomach, finding myself bleeding. As much as I hated myself for giving up, I knew that I did all I could. I just regret not telling anyone my story. When a boy becomes an Unsullied, the first thing the Good Masters take is your name, then they take your cock so you can never be what you were or what you could be. As I walked into the forest and away from the men who were undoubtedly chasing me, slaves like myself, but unlike me, they broke. Some were even shattered. They now serve those who chain them, but I wasn't like them. I broke free. Even if I was to die today, I would die satisfied. I reached a clearing in the forest and waited to take a breath and savor it, for my breaths were numbered. The only thing I regret in this life is that I didn't kill the master's son as well. If I did, I wouldn't have had a group of guards chasing me! As I started reminiscing about my life and my family before I was taken and chained, I heard the scariest thing in my life. It sounded like thunder, as if it was hit a thousand times in just a moment. It went on for an eternity, yet it was as short as a breath. What came after was silence, and what came after the silence was a yell of victory. I could hear, as clearly as I could hear my own heart beating like a drum in my chest, a man's voice saying, "Fuck you, fuck you, Westeros! You thought you could kill me like that. Fuck you, Bloodraven! I swear to God, I'm going to find you and I am going to rip you a new one!" I didn't know who this Bloodraven was, but did this man think he was in Westeros? I had been a slave most of my life, and even I knew we were in Essos. As I saw him, I was shocked, for in his hands was a golden ball of light that kept shifting into strange devices I had never seen, only to finally settle on a dagger. Did this man intend to kill me as well? He looked at me, his eyes meeting mine. His face was surprised. Men who could not calm themselves in battle were the first to die. Any other day, I would have beaten this man easily. The slavers take away everything, but they give us blood and how to take it. Quite useful if it wasn't for their own selfishness, but I was injured, and I doubt I could kill a kitten in this state. I could barely stand. Gathering my courage, I spoke. "If you're going to kill me, stranger, do it fast, or don't do it at all, for I have no time left in this world," I stated, pointing to my injury. The strange man, who I realized was wearing clothes stranger than anything the fat Good Masters have ever worn, looked at me cautiously. Only then did that caution turn to what I could tell was resolve, for what I did not know. "You look like you could use some help. The name's Willdean, Raymond Willdean," the man said .

As I lay on the ground, clutching my wounds, I wondered if this strange man with his unusual garments could possibly help me. "I doubt you could help me, my lord," I said with a glimmer of hope in my voice, "you are far from the sunset kingdom you call home." But he spoke with such certainty, insisting that he could heal me completely. "I saw your magic earlier," I nodded, "but healing a wound like this? Not even the gods could do that." Years of slavery had made me lose faith in any divine existence.

But he was determined to help me. "That's not all I have up my sleeve," he said with a serious tone, "I also know a special form of healing magic that could even regrow limbs." In return, he asked me to answer a few of his questions and help him reach his destination. I didn't care about his questions or where he was going, all I wanted was to live. "My name is Lario, my lord," I said, "if you heal me, I will answer whatever you wish, and I shall take you to whatever lands you wish."

He warned me not to attack him as he approached me, and all he needed was to touch me for his magic to work. I was hesitant at first, but I reached out my hand to him, hoping for the best. And just like that, I felt better, the pain disappeared, and the wound that should have killed me was gone. He had fixed me, as if he was the potter and I was the clay.

As he smiled at me, I realized that I owed him my life. "There, I kept my part of the deal," he said, "now it's time to honor yours. And just so you know, I healed all your wounds, but if you want your manhood back, make sure you do not betray me." I couldn't believe my ears, could this man truly make me whole again? Could he take away the scar that an unsullied never forgets? "Who are you?" I asked, curiosity taking over me, wondering who this man was that had brought a river of hope to my desert of despair.

And then he spoke, in a tone that commanded respect and authority, "Me? I'm the mother fucking Emperor of Man fucking kind." My jaw dropped, and I realized that I was in the presence of a man beyond me , I have never heard of a man who claimed to me the emperor of men but I would not openly question my savior.