Thread: GoT: Blood And Fire (kingofshadows & darkangel76)

Kess nodded. Her golden hair reflected the light of the dancing flames from the burning fires as it gently bobbed up and down. Most of the fires were smoldering embers of what remained of a once thriving city, the beacon of life and common thread to all the Dothraki of Essos. But the true fire of the people would never truly be extinguished. Not while at least one khalasar survived this terrible genocide. She looked toward Jhaqo, her blue eyes pleading for hope, though she'd never speak of it aloud. Seeing his khalasar ride into what was left of Vaes Dothrak had already planted those tiny seeds and she could feel their vines sprouting, unfurling throughout her body as he spoke. His words were enough to set the worst of her fears at ease, though she knew her people had suffered a great and terrible loss. The apparition that had swept through their lands, tried to take and destroy what was most precious would certainly pay. The Great Stallion would see to it. There was a soft grunt as Jhaqo roughly grabbed Kess' arm and pulled her close, her eyes finding his. Yes. He was khal and a strong one. He would see justice served, vengeance found! The Dothraki would indeed rise again. She swallowed then, her resolve holding. She would not wince or cower. She was khaleesi, a dosh khaleen. She'd always prove her strength despite the blood flowing in her veins. He was white like the cloud, she began. Hair like the fog rolling over our mountain. Her eyes went distant as memory flooded her mind. She could see the shadow as he stood above Vaes Dothrak, leading his men, giving orders. They'd all been caged by then, surrounded, mostly slaughtered. But she'd never forget that ethereal figure wearing black. His armor encrusted with glittering jewels the color of blood. And his armor was blacker than any starless night. He donned the blood of men. I saw it, she continued. It glittered upon that bewitched armor! For a moment, she wondered if that man had been a demon, a great ghost sent as a warning. Why had it wanted them to bring the Stormborn back to Meereen? How did it know she was on her way? Too many questions and it reeked of dark magic. Daenerys felt her face grow warm as the old man spoke. She knew her anger would garner her nothing. Right now she needed to figure out who exactly was behind the attack. More than anything, she was grateful that this ordeal would lead her back to Meereen, but a pain lingered in her heart. She thought on Khal Drogo, those first nights as his wife and Khaleesi. She'd been terrified at first, so very lost. But slowly, she'd come to understand the great rider and warrior and the love that grew between them was unlike anything she'd found since. Not even Daario could compare. Ah Daario. Her thoughts flitted to her sellsword back in Meereen. She'd left him behind in the Pits. Was that the act of bravery to leave your loved ones amidst a slaughter? Drogo would've been furious. She was furious. Yet, somehow she knew it had been the right thing to do. Drogonher dragon named for the only man she'd truly lovedhad come back for her, summoned by the shedding of blood as those vile Sons of the Harpy slit the throats of several who'd come to see the games. It had been utterly horrific and most unexpected. She hoped Missandei and Tyrion were faring well. Meereen was no doubt in utter chaos! You're right, Dany muttered as she turned to approach the old man. It was clear that he'd been well-traveled, not someone from this rough and ragged land she'd grown to love. He harbored secrets. Just what had those eyes seen before his sight had been taken away? Dany stood before the old man and let his hands freely move over her face. She felt the blood rise to her cheeks and sweep down the slope of her neck when he mentioned her beauty. She'd heard tell of the brothels, though she wanted to dismiss the notion. It made her think on things she'd rather not for her mind had far more pressing matters than who wanted to get between her thighs. Sleep is luxury I haven't been able to afford in quite some time, Dany admitted. No amount of wealth or protection could ever bring her peace. She wondered if that was something she'd ever truly find or if it would forever elude her. She thought she'd come close in the arms of Khal Drogo, but that was just a shadow, an illusion of what peace could truly be. It was a disturbing thought, but the truth nonetheless. As the old man continued his examination, checking for any signs of issue, Dany did her best to remain still and calm. She listened carefully, intently, her muscles going taut when his tone turned from soft to terse. What did he know of thrones or blood? This wasn't a game and she intended to finish what had been started. Her family had been disgraced, exiled cruelly and wrongfully over the actions of one man. The Baratheon's were not fit to rule Westeros. None of the noble houses were. For a moment, she thought of Tyrion Lannister. Oh how she hoped be able to lend aid in this most dire of times. This isn't about masochism, Dany whispered. This is about doing what's right. Turning away, she unfastened her tattered dress and let it slowly slip from her body. Her heart swelled suddenly, longing for home...not Meereen or even a simple Dothraki tent. But, for Westeros. Daenerys stepped out of the puddle of clothes that lied at her feet and moved toward the old man. He needed to check her more closely, more intimately. She'd been seen by doctors and midwives before. This was nothing new. But somehow, there was an odd sense of familiarity in this man. Did she know him? Did he know her family? Her head was swimming and too much had happened and her bones ached. She longed for rest, but like she'd told the old man... Sleep was a luxury she could not afford. Kess felt her tummy clench as the khal looked into her eyes. Yes. She'd ride with him, stay with him. It was his right as the last surviving khal. These were dark times, dangerous times. And misfortune seemed to be smiling down upon them from their mountain looming in the distance. Our people will rise again, khal, Kess spoke, her voice refusing to falter. You will lead us to victory. The Stallion will guide you. She smiled then and, against better judgment, let the hope she felt growing inside, burn brighter, burn warmer. This was worse than she'd thought. With both Jorah and Daario gone they were at an even greater loss to be sure. Missandei sighed. The Sons of the Harpy were swift and cruel, their attacks precise. Before long, they'd have no more army and Dany would have nothing when the time to return to Westeros came upon them all. Missandei turned toward Tyrion, her eyes soft and pleading. Something must be done then, to perhaps unite the people. Famine and starvation are enough of a matter to bring master and slave together. Without a slave, there is no master and no master will live if there is no food. Perhaps reason is the best approach? she began to pace and understood now why Dany often times did the same. We cannot keep on as we have. I'm sure Khaleesi would agree, she went on. Her gaze moved from Varys and then to Tyrion, but her eyes lingered on the dwarf. He had experience in such matters back home in Westeros and Missandei found herself trusting him much more so than the eunuch. If anyone could help her hold Daenerys' realm together, she was sure it was him. There's another matter, Missandei pressed, her thoughts turning to Grey Worm as he rested, healing from his wounds. The Unsullied. Her eyes shifted down to the floor. They were taken unaware by these people. Unaware, unprepared. She sucked in a sharp breath. They do not know how to fight this way... It was difficult for her to admit that such men, men she'd once thought to be near invincible were so very flawed. They need someone to train them.