A/N: Just to let you know, I'm pretty impulsive. I've had this story in my head since I encountered Game of Thrones. I love the series and I've been putting this story in my private notebook for a while. I know some of you are wanting me to update my other stories and soon I'll have enough time to do all that but I really wanted to get this story up here because I've been reading so many similar stories that just didn't satisfy my urge for a story like this.
The hot deserts of Essos, across the plains of abundant grass of the Dothraki Sea serve as the home of the nomadic, savage horse lords known as the Dothraki. The Dothraki life style are what those who reside in typical cities would consider rough and violent as well as undesirable. They train rigorously due to their love of and respect for combat and warfare, they also make it a priority for Dothraki boys to be able to not only appreciate and fight on horseback. We now find ourselves following the story of the Dothraki khalakka, Conan.
Fourteen years before the main story line, the mighty Khal Drogo was but a young, strapping early to mid twenties old warlord and he had just raided a small village outside one of the Free Cities as the Dothraki were reaping their spoils of gold, food, alcohol and women. Most of the Dothraki are rough and forceful when they encounter other people so the women were just brutally raped in plain sight of all the men who were made into slaves as they cursed the day the Dothraki came into existence. As Khal Drogo drank his fill, his hooded, bright forest green eyes fell upon the obviously fairest beauty among the women caught that day who looked about his age.
The woman was in between many of the other captured women; defiance and daring clearly plastered on her flawless face. Even from her crouched position, she looked beautiful with platinum blonde hair that almost looked silver in the light which used a beautiful ornate hairpiece to hold it in its simple long ponytail, golden eyes, her skin fair and beautiful with no flaw to be found in her heart shaped face, she had a small nose and full pink lips that seemed oh so soft and supple. One of the Dothraki yanked her up by her arm as a high pitched yelp came from her before she brought up her hand in a sharp smack at the man's face but he caught it and looked to be getting angry as she continued attempts to strike , giving Drogo a good view of her curvy, voluptuous figure with at least C cup, firm and perky looking breasts, a flat stomach, and legs that seemed to go on for miles.
"Submit, you worthless bitch!" yelled the Dothrak in their native tongue and was about to strike her before Drogo suddenly approached and pulled the man from her, disorienting him with a powerful punch to the side of the face then took his arakh before cutting him across the chest, killing him in the Dothraki way when fighting for a woman. He focused his piercing gaze on the woman who seemed to erect this rebellious disposition, but on the inside, the mere might of this man's presence and the previous display of his prowess made her begin to feel some effects of fear. While he was this imposing figure, he moved with a predatory grace akin to that of a panther, looking as the epitome of a savage beauty as his steely muscles wrought from years of combat, physical labor and his hard, stern disposition made the woman's insides do flips. She wanted to resist when he took her hand and led her to his tent, but it felt as if he were giving her a choice and not as if he were threatening her, which made her curious as to how such a man would come to lead such brute savages. He seemed so genuine and it looked as if he very much wanted to take her but he didn't seem like his subordinates who took it regardless. His forest green eyes were glazed with tempting, haughty passion that made her inner woman ignite with intense desire. She didn't even know his name or anything about him, they hadn't even spoken words but she could feel passion unlike any other she's felt before.
They seemed to wait there forever, simply boring their gazes into each other as their minds ran wild with all of the possible things they would do to the other if the pesky minimal distance between them would close up for them.
It was a battle of wills and they were waiting for the other to crack. It seemed as if neither were going to be giving up soon until Drogo closed the distance but kept his face just inches from the woman's as the sexual tension increase tenfold as he ran his tongue over his own lips in anticipation of the events to come. The woman, not prepared for the bold move, simply watched as his tongue licked his lips slowly and she felt an aching in her "most holiest of places", telling her she needed a release...bad. Her amber eyes took on a predatory glint as she attacked his surprisingly soft, warm lips with her own, using her tongue as he did to lick his lips almost as if begging for entrance into his mouth. He allowed her entrance but swept her up and laid her down slightly roughly, exciting the woman's senses as he slipped his tongue into her mouth simultaneously, exploring every inch of it and tracing her jawline slowly. He then bit down on her lower lip and sucked on it, eliciting a moan from the beauty as her hands roamed over his bulky, steely muscled chest and defined abs, slowly trailing her way down to the waistband of his pants, trying to get them off.
He loved the feeling of her soft, dainty hands squeezing and feeling his muscles then helped her to remove his pants as she gasped at the sheer size of the warlord's manhood. He wasn't quite like the horses he rides, but he was a horse among men and the sight of such an appendage made her needs for release that much more intense as he then turned her around while still kissing her neck and shoulder, dragging his lips and the tip of his tongue slowly down to her collarbone and bit down rather hard, and the woman filled the tent with a loud, lusty moan. He nibbled on the collarbone as he slowly undid her dress and let it fall to her feet as he eyed every inch of her body with a lust-filled gaze then bent her over and leveled his cock with her pussy as the woman prepped herself for the entering and she screamed as he pounded into her with his cock, but he stopped and laid his chest on top of her back as he soothingly rubbed her arm as she recovered from the pain of losing her maidenhead while Drogo used much of his willpower trying to not react to her tight pussy squeezing the life out of his cock. Once she did, she smirked inwardly as she began thrust her butt into his groin, sliding her pussy along the length of his cock inside of her as Drogo moaned in surprise as he wasn't expecting her to be so eager after just losing her virginity but here she was, fiercely pumping at his cock with her womanhood. He moaned as he began to ravage her, reaching around and rubbing her breasts as his fingers pinched and lightly brushed the nipples. She moaned in ecstasy, feeling an insurmountable pleasure she'd never felt before as she continued allowing him to take her over and over, relishing in the feeling of his cock penetrating her.
9 Months Later
Drogo's braid grew ever longer and his prowess in battle became feared throughout Essos as being the strongest warrior in the continent. He had crossed blades with other Khals and felled them when they tried to challenge his might, but they all fell the same, thus granting him their khalasars which brought him up to at LEAST half of what he will soon have in the decade to come. He watched as the woman who he mounted 9 months before, walked around his khalasar's camp in Dothraki clothes with her stomach swelled up nicely, signifying her pregnancy though it did nothing to diminish her beauty. She spotted him staring at her and flashed him a soft smile to which he smirked in return, from his throne. Suddenly the cries of an army along with the thunderous beating of hooves sounded through their camp and Khal Ogo's khalasar stormed into the camp, beginning to pillage and strike down stunned Dothraki civilians as the men instinctively mounted nearby horses and began combating the opposing khalasar. Khal Drogo slowly stood and walked out towards the fighting from his throne, gripping his razor sharp arakh and glaring with his even more piercing green gaze as Khal Ogo grinned and dismounted, wielding his arakh as well though Drogo could see a hint of hesitation that reassured him of his soon-to-be victory. They belted out battle cries as they clashed blades. As if on cue, the clash of blades was drowned out by the booming of thunder and flash of lightning as the clouds overhead began pouring rain onto the battlefield, doing little to put out the raging fires started by Khal Ogo's khalasar of Drogo's camps, filling the air with the smoke of the fire. Their current camp was rather close to the Narrow Sea, so the waves were raging about and many torrents of water hit the camps.
The woman moaned in pain as she leaned against a rock, the stress of everything making her labor worse. She felt a liquid run down her leg, her eyes widened as she realized her water had been broken. Her baby was kicking and being overall restless, though while it was putting her through much discomfort, she wondered if the child's Dothraki blood was reacting to the battle and that was why it "decided" to enter the world now, of all times. Several Dothraki of what she assumed to be the opposite khalasar surrounded her and grinned lustfully. They brandished their cocks and pinned her to a boulder, but she wildly lashed out with her arms as attempts at defense and successfully managed to punch the closest Dothrak, which caused him to lose focus as the ferocity of the blow was unexpected and he momentarily let go of her as he nursed his stinging jaw. He looked up at her with a look of pure fury and was about to let loose a devastating blow to her stomach but she suddenly lashed out with her freed hand, stabbing him in between the eyes with what looks like a hidden knife which was actually hidden with the hairpiece she had often. The other men disarmed her then fully restrained her as the other dropped dead. They then proceeded to beat and cut her around her body but miraculously none of it made it to her womb, just her torso and back then one of them let go as they bent her over as he prepared to mount her first.
'No...no...NO...I don't want to be taken like this. Damn it all! Why must this happen when I was finally happy?' she thought as her eyes began to water as she felt the rough hands of the Dothraki pulling at her clothing and the smug chuckling of the gang before suddenly it turned into gagging as a graceful, fluid motion spun through the gang as a whirling dervish of sword swings, ending up with the men sustaining life threatening injuries to the throat, torso, spine, back of their neck as well as emasculating them by striking through their brandished flesh swords which showcased her savior's incredible dexterity, precision, stealth, accuracy, control and swordplay as he then decapitated them by swinging his arakh in an arc, lobbing of their heads through their necks. She blinked away her tears as she looked up to see the majestic, powerful sight of her strong Khal Drogo, gripping his bloodied arakh tightly and the severed head of Khal Ogo who's lifeless eyes seemed to have the lingering look of fear and defeat, as Drogo seemed to look down at the fallen men with a terrifying look of unadulterated rage before looking to her and only expressing sorrow but it seemed as if his mesmerizing forest green eyes looked past her as he knelt by her and held her, dropping both blade and head as he looked over her body, taking note of the injuries. She knew he was only interested in the baby that came about from her, which is why she wasn't made an actual khaleesi despite his obvious physical attraction to her. However, she didn't care because he was willing to take care of her and her child with all of his might, he could grow to love her.
Suddenly the healers of the khalasar and the men he had won over from Ogo's khalasar picked the woman up from his arms and put up a tent as the storm raged on outside. Drogo and Rakharo, one of Drogo's most trusted men and ko, shared a look as in a moment of clarity, they realized they could not find Ogo's ko anywhere but a pain-filled screech came from the bearer of Drogo's heir so they put it aside for now...
An hour later
BOOM! Suddenly all those outside the tent looked up at the dark night sky to investigate the noise that shattered the silence they'd been in to see a blood red comet shooting across the sky with a long red tail. It was the deepest red they'd ever seen and the Dothraki began to shout.
"Shierak qiya!"
One of the women stepped out of the tent and motioned for Khal Drogo to enter where he and many of the khalasar were waiting to hear what had become of the woman and their khalakka. Drogo took a deep breath and walked inside, hearing the sound of high-pitched wails as he parted the tent. He saw the woman on a bed though her eyes were barely open but full of love as she looked down at a baby with olive skin, a mess of black hair with a brown sheen, same colored eyebrows, black long eyelashes along with medium aquamarine eyes that resembled a deep blue-sea green ocean as opposed to his father's forest green shade which were producing tears as a result of its few minutes of life, small nose, pink lips now pulled back into a smile that resembled his father's. He was an exceptionally beautiful baby and there was no doubt even in such a person as Drogo who rarely took note of such things when not in context to grown women that he would potentially mount, that his son would be incredibly handsome as his father. They could also feel a sense of restlessness, deviousness and trouble-making from the boy's gaze alone.
Suddenly, they were all brought out of their thoughts of the boy when the woman went through a violent coughing fit which ended up with some blood being coughed up onto her arm. Drogo immediately went by her side and took her hand.
"What is wrong? Are you not well!?" exclaimed the distraught khal. He looked to the healers for answers but the woman answered him.
"It would seem I will not be able to stay much longer with you nor our little Conan and his life. My injuries and the stress of the pregnancy appears to have been too much for my body to handle, so now I am dying...my khal, I am sorry I truly wanted to see and help our boy grow into a fine man like his father." she started to cry weakly into Drogo's chest as he held her close. He himself refused to let the people around him see his tears though he let loose a soft whimper that only she heard for being so close. He didn't love her as he should a khaleesi but the past few months with her had been very nice with her, he grew to care for her as much as his ko. Suddenly they felt two extremely small, soft hands touch their intertwined hands, and they saw Conan smiling brightly as he looked up at them. They felt their anguish and pain wash away, the joy of baby Conan making them momentarily forget everything and just feel like a family. The woman smiled as tears of joy ran down the sides of her face before pecking the boy on the forehead, whispering words of love before she kissed Drogo a final time, who kissed her back but with the emotions of sorrow he had for her and the hope she finds peace in the Nightlands.
"Take care of our son..." She said then laid her head in the crook of his neck and died with a peaceful smile on her face. Drogo's face became solemn as he uttered "I swear it by the Mother of Mountains."
6 Years Later
Khal Drogo sat in his throne as his ko began instructing the four year old Dothraki boys how to shoot from horseback as the younger boys were still learning how to ride. The boys were fairly good, many of them were showing good progress for their age, though many of them struggled to get past the widest circle and those who did could not do it consistently but Drogo was proud of the future members of his khalasar.
Cohollo, who stood by Drogo as a guard, smiled to his khal. "The youth are progressing slowly, but surely. We will surely have a strong khalasar!"
"Aye...it is only natural for them to be strong with the guidance of such strong mentors." said Drogo as he smirked at Cohollo who smiled bashfully, being one of the less arrogant Dothraki.
"How is the young khalakka?" asked Cohollo.
"I must say he's become quite the troublemaker and he's only 6 years old, but his growth astounds me and I was told I was a prodigy when I was his age. He's constantly run and brawled with the wild animals since he was 3. Not to mention, he learned how to shoot from horseback at 3 making him the youngest to do it in our history. His tenacity is admirable. Whenever the animals knock him down, he gets back up and fights ferociously, it makes me proud, but strangely enough, he never kills them unless hunting. His love of battle, determination and willpower surpass any I've ever seen, even in some of the greatest men and warriors I've known. When he wants to get a skill down or win a battle, he stays focused on that single task and his love of battle is astounding. His love of battle even carries over to his skills as he has a natural talent for the martial arts, especially swordplay. The khalasar even go so far as to call him Conan Battleborn due to the battle with Ogo prior. He is also always roughhousing with other boys. Normally it would be fine, but his standard training alongside the training with the animals as well as the training I personally give him has made him much more physically capable than even most of the adult warriors so he really injures them. He even brawls with adults whenever they get into disagreements or if they disrespect him. His temper is starting to become feared by those who are on the receiving end but everyone else enjoys his good naturedness, willingness to help and humor even if he is strange when it comes to some of our customs. He constantly ventures out into the unknown and tries to learn everything that piques his interest. The dosh khaleen adore him because he always asks about stories of past khals and legends. He asks Jorah the Andal to teach him his language and of his culture, for some reason. He also befriends the slaves, they seem to be so familiar with him that they address him by name and even hit him yet he does nothing in retaliation, whereas if one of our warriors were to do the latter, he'd beat them within an inch of their life. When the warriors try to beat the slaves for being so familiar, he fights for them. He has completely disregarded our hierarchy. And as suspected, he is such a trouble-maker. Just yesterday, he replaced most of my ko's war paint with horse shit and they didn't know why they stunk so badly. He also purposely brought out one of the mares in heat and rode it past Mago's horse so that the horse would toss Mago off of it and give chase. Also; I'm not completely sure but I believe I've heard muffled noises coming from the khalakka's tent that when coupled with the way the female slaves look at him and from the way they interact, its as if he manages to make them want him to mount them but he never does anything aside from teasing and flirting. I sometimes sneak peaks in the tent to make sure and it seems mostly like the girls fill up in his tent and simply converse with him. I suppose it makes sense as he is too young to really feel the urge to mount them, but he treats them as if they were of us. Most of all, what really worries me is the fact he constantly climbs the really tall trees and explores the poison water despite our warnings to stay away from it. He continues to explore it regardless, he is as stubborn as his parents and extremely curious. Despite his attitude, the khalasar don't know if they want such a strange boy as their khal should he one day surpass me, which knowing his determination, he will. As a khal, I must lead the herd well but my duty as a father and the promise I made to her, dictates I help Conan." stated the khal as he opened up to his friend, who he'd known since their younger days when he was a teenager and Cohollo a young man.
Cohollo could not understand his khal's difficult position but he could let his friend tell him about it and offer advice as best as he could.
"I'm sure he will be fine, how much more attention could he possibly attract? The khalasar will get used to his antics. Just relax, Khal Drogo, he is bonding now with the other children in the forest exercise." said Cohollo as Drogo's lips pulled into his trademark smirk, feeling relief in the fact that his son would just normally do the training exercise.
"Ah yes. I remember the exercise. 'When a Dothraki feels thirst, it is the thirst for blood. When he feels cold, it is the cold edge of steel. However, the courage of a Dothraki is tempered. He neither fears death nor does he rush foolishly to meet it. To be a Dothraki warrior, you must have cunning and balance as well as speed and strength. The first of those who enter the forest and circle it with an unbroken egg in your mouth earns the right to fight as a Dothraki' " finished Khal Drogo, a nostalgic look in his eye as he thought of the first of many challenges that Drogo conquered in his life that distinguished him even more so than being the son of Khal Bharbo, a respected warlord in his own right.
"You quoted your father perfectly. I remember when you had to do that exercise, you finished it in the fastest time while taking out some of the other boys. I was told to look after you but I should've been assigned to the other children because you dominated them" said Cohollo as he smiled at the memory.
"Yes but you still saved my life all those years ago and I am still in your debt but let's see how my son will fare." said Drogo.
In the Forest
There were about 20 Dothraki boys from the ages of 10 to 17 running through the forest with eggs held inside of their mouths as they try to outrun each other, while the others are simply trying to fight the others to break their eggs and take them out of the running. Among them was a fast runner outpacing the other kids, he looked around 7 or 8, obviously the youngest of the group, with a developing figure though he was still muscular for his age, he has smooth, flawless olive skin like honey with silky-soft long, thick, darkened brown almost black, wavy to the point of slight curling, and flowing hair (the color is like Khal Drogo's in the show) which is tied in a ponytail reaching to the top of his spine and his sides squared off, thick but elegant black eyebrows, striking aquamarine deep set eyes peering from under heavy, thick, long, seemingly feminine black slightly curled eyelashes, thickened black eyebrows, a perfectly-proportioned, refined angular face with high cheekbones, and straight nose with sensual pouty pink lips though it seemed he was making space in his mouth for the egg. He was an extremely beautiful boy. He only wore leather pants, allowing his chest to be bare. He began kicking off of trees and swinging on branches, basically making the territory his playground as the other kids looked on and tried using rocks to knock him down though they often missed.
Conan struggled not to laugh at their attempts. He knew he could simply run the course but that wouldn't teach him anything. He had to try and make it more challenging so taunting them to get them to focus their efforts on him would do that even if the attempts were rather futile. He dropped to the ground and used the momentum to grab one of the boys who were running close by, by the back of his head and pushing his face down into the ground, not only dazing him but cracking his egg which he spit out. He then slowed down his pace to bait 3 of the other boys into running after him who were all solely focused on offing him, but suddenly Conan jumped and the three ran into a large log, which hit them in the stomachs, knocking the wind out of them which also ended up with the eggs cracking as they flew out of their mouths. Conan crouched behind the log and listened to the running of more footsteps. Just as he heard it get close enough, he sprung up and went for an uppercut which knocked the jumping boy out of the air and also cracked the egg in his mouth since it hit his jaw but he spit it out before he could choke on it as he fell into the ground.
Meanwhile, the four blood riders of Khal Ogo had finally tracked down the khalasar of Khal Drogo. When they were defeated 6 years ago, they fled before they could join the khalasar and vowed to themselves to get revenge. They saw the children and decided to start with them first. They darted around the trees just out of sight of the children and began to stalk their prey.
Conan and the boys all heard the rustling and crushing of leaves which were tell-tale signs of being followed, many of the boys spit out their eggs and ran back to camp. Some of the others kept running but looked around frantically, hoping they could outrun whoever was following them. However, once they caught a glimpse of the men and the ponytails just past their shoulder blades, all of the boys turned tail and ran to regroup at the camp.
Well...all except Conan who ran straight to meet the four, feeling the thirst for blood and his spirit calling for battle despite all of the kids trying to warn him. He ran into a clearing where they seemed to lie in wait before one of them used a whip to wrap around his legs, causing him to fall down on his face. He then looked up with his eyes set into a piercing glare that seemed to shake the hardened warriors to their core at the sheer immense hunger for battle and killing intent radiating from those blue-green orbs but they reluctantly continued on. The one holding the whip slackened his grip in his fear then suddenly felt the surprising power of Conan's legs as he reeled in the man by yanking his legs inward then he slammed his feet into the ground and used the momentum to toss his body from off of the ground, standing on his feet before ramming his head into the incoming blood rider's head, knocking him out with blood trailing out of his mouth. He then unwrapped the whip from his legs then had to duck a swing from one of the rider's arakhs, showcasing his nimbleness and dexterity as he evaded the frenzied swings then picked up the fallen rider's dropped knife, which flew from its sheath as a result of the force from the headbutt, and stabbed it into the other's inner thigh before kicking it in deeper and then roundhouse kicking the side of the man's face, causing his neck to whip back so fast, it ended with a snapping noise resounding as the rider fell, dead.
He then charged at another one but a second tried to flank him as he was running with his battle axe but Conan dropped into a roll and rolled through the opening in the man's legs as he neared the flanking location before coming out in a crouch beside a rock which he picked up as he whacked the other, who suspected his comrade to have gotten rid of Conan with the flank, with the stone but it only drew blood from his mouth as he swung his fist at Conan as he dropped to the ground and stabbed his own knife through the man's foot into the ground to plant it there which elicited a blood curling scream from him. The other man who's flank was evaded attempted to cut Conan from behind but he ripped the knife from the foot and stabbed into his chest after spotting an opening in his stance in between his raising the blade and swinging it. As the man fell over trying anything to keep from dying of the stab wound, Conan performed a disarming maneuver to gain the arakh and spun around on his heel then put his whole body weight into a swing that cut a gash through the man's chest with the stabbed foot and swollen face due to the rock, killing him.
Conan then picked up the fallen battle axe, slowly walking over to the one man suffering from the stab wound as he groaned in agony before bringing down the axe on his head with a battle cry which was heard throughout the forest along with the screams of pain.
"Khal Drogo! You must come see this!" said Irri, one of the Dothrak as Drogo looked at Cohollo and they both followed him away from the throne tent and watched as all of the khalasar gathered round to watch something coming from the forest.
Khal Drogo parted the crowd until he got to the center where he saw the opposite side of the crowd parting as something, or someone, moved through it towards him. There was much whispering and murmuring; filling the camp with hushed noise but an uncomfortable silence. Suddenly Conan emerged from the crowd, his face and torso bloodied, hair tousled and wild, his lips pursed as his eyes were set in the most piercing, unnerving gaze anyone could have seen from a child but what was more unnerving were the two severed heads he held in each hand, dropping all four on the ground in front of his father without breaking eye contact with him. Some of the slaves and his friends among the Dothraki boys started smirking at Conan's apparent accomplishment as some of the girls his age blushed at how rugged he looked, covered in blood and his muscles tense. Then as if the heads weren't enough, he opened up his pursed lips and spit out the egg on the ground which cracked the top but otherwise it looked unharmed, signifying he had done it with an unbroken egg.
Khal Drogo couldn't help but smirk proudly at his son as the other warriors looked very impressed with the boy, even Jorah found the sight a little more than amazing. Cohollo chuckled at the irony of his statement beforehand, thinking it was foolish of him to think things would change so suddenly and to not expect something like this from the son of the youngest and one of the strongest khals of one of the largest khalasars ever seen.
"MY SON IS STRONG!" exclaimed Khal Drogo in a boastful voice as he picked the boy up and placed him on his shoulders. The khalasar then began to roar with praise for Conan but some of the adult slaves were extremely terrified that the boy who was so kind to them and helped could do such things with so much ease.
4 days later
Conan currently had just finished training in the water, which he noted helped him shrug off more resistance when on land so he taught himself how to swim and began doing light weight and weaponry training in the water. However, now he just laid on his back in the water and floated as his eyelids fluttered before closing them with his arakh laying on his chest and other weapons strapped where they were. His thoughts went to his place in the Dothraki and how he felt so out of place. Sure, he was praised for showing promise as a warrior but he felt himself questioning much of their ways and felt caged despite constantly migrating from place to place. He wanted to be free and the "poison water" he was told to stay away from apparently held the key to his freedom, if what Jorah told him about the continent of Westeros and the Free Cities were true.
"Conan! Get out of the water, a storm is coming!" yelled Jorah who helped Conan along in his swimming lessons as well as taught him the mechanics to sailing and navigating. Despite his warning, Conan seemed to ignore the man and continued trying to nap as the winds grew stronger and the clouds darker and thicker.
"Hm...maybe I shoul-WHHOOOOOAAAA!" Suddenly the water picked up as the winds blew powerfully, causing the waves to pull and push violently then after it calmed momentarily, Jorah could not find Conan anywhere.
Several Days Later
Conan had been tossed and swept by the ocean for days, enduring days without food or rest before he finally found a dock in the distance. It seemed to be a dock to a massive, boisterous town that seemed to have a lot of hustle and bustle to it. Conan was unaccustomed to such an environment and he was looking for a place to stay and eat until he could find his way home. He saw a swaggering older man with curly black hair though many of his curls were tinted white or gray as he gripped a really thin sword, which he thinks he heard Jorah call a rapier when he learned there were different styles of swords, and a goatee. He went to point the rapier at Conan but Conan reacted immediately by brandishing his arakh. The unexpectedly good reflexes of the boy seemed to be make the man smirk slightly.
"My name is Syrio Forel, the First Sword of Braavos! And you are?" asked Syrio with a heavy Braavosi accent. Conan realized it was Common Tongue and thanked himself he asked Jorah to teach him. According to Jorah, typically people outside of the Dothraki have surnames. He remembered his father and Jorah telling him of the surname given to him by his people. Conan then narrowed his aquamarine gaze toward Syrio's dark brown eyes and spoke with confidence that belonged to a general or king.
"My name is Conan Battleborn..."
Chapter End!
I hope my fellow GoT fans enjoy. Conan's adventures are about to get interesting as the first Dothraki to literally go down the Narrow Sea and end up so far from Essos. The name was inspired by my one of my favorite characters, Khal Drogo's actor's past roles. I thought it sounded just Dothraki enough to be a good name, the other option would've been to name him after the great khal with a khalasar reaching into the tens of thousands, Temmo.