Translations are at the bottom, and longer chapters are yet to come! Please enjoy the second part of Fireborn!
The sun beats on my skin, but I've grown used to the discomfort. Flies buzz around the khalasar, a reminder that no one has bathed in close to a week of our last camp. Water is in short supply, most of it for the horses carrying what belongings we need. Any luxury Daenerys and I found in our time with the Dothraki is gone, a distant memory of what could have been if it weren't for the faults of men and blind love of women. In the month since the burning, I have begun to forget my dear friend's face and voice, only hearing her words. But Davvi is not truly gone, for she lives on the dragon currently nestling into my chest, her little talons holding onto the braiding of my short tunic. A sword and an arakh swing on my hips. They've been there since I asked Ser Jorah to train me, the tiring and long march be damned.
Caraxes trots next to me, neighing softly. "Shh. Shh." I comfort my stallion. "You are doing so well, my love." Almost nodding, he continues, strong and sure.
My sister walks in front of me, trying to feed Drogon. He does not eat, and my sister sighs in frustration. Beside me Doreah asks, "What did you brother say about them, Khaleesi?"
Answering for my sister, I snort. "Only that they could fly and would eat meat."
My sister nods. "He didn't tell you what kind of meat?" Dorothea presses.
Daenerys shakes her head. "Our brother didn't know anything about dragons. He didn't know anything about anything." Dany holds out her hand and Drogon flutters onto it, his mother putting him away in a box carried by a horse, who holds her other two with him. The white mare stumbles and falls in the front of the small khalasar and I rush forward with my sister, Dorothea closing the box.
The Dothraki back away as my sister kneels beside her beloved horse, petting the dying mare's face. "She was Drogo's first gift to me."
"I remember." I look at Jorah's solemn face, then kneel beside my sister, and on her shoulder.
"Daenerys?" I ask, and she looks at me.
"We promised to protect them. Promised them their enemies would die screaming. How do I make starvation scream?"
"A trick I never learned, I'm afraid." Jorah answers.
"Does it ever end?" Dany asks, looking at the wasteland before us.
"This is further east than I've ever been. But yes, Khaleesi, everything ends, even the Red Waste."
"And you're sure there's not other way?" A Dany asks I stroke her messy hair, kissing her temple.
Jorah sighs. "If we go south to the land of the Lhazareen, the Lamb Men will kill us and take your dragons." At his words I stroke Davvi's back, my dragon purring. "If we go west to the Dothraki Sea, the first khalasar we meet will kill us and take your dragons."
"No one will take our dragons." Dany declares, staring at Jorah.
A moment passes, then the man speaks quietly. "They are too weak to fight, as are your people."
"I am not." I declare, joining him in looking at our small gathering of supporters.
"Then you and your sister must be their strength." Jorah tells me. I rise and nod, hand still on my sister's shoulder.
"As you are mine." Dany tells him fondly, before turning to the Dothraki. "Zhey qoy qoyi!" Her bloodriders approach their Khaleesi. "Zhey Rakharo, zhey Aggo, zhey Kovarro. Fichi hrazef zinayi kishi. Vosma esemrasalat Caraxes. Ma yer adothrae tith;" she looks at Rakharo, "ma yer adothrae tith;" then to Aggo, "ma yer valshtith." The men nod, but Rakharo steps forward.
"Fin kisha fonoki, zhey khaleesi? Khalakki?" He looks to me.
"Vaes, che thiri che drivi. Ma verakasaris ma voji. Che ashefaes che tozaraes che Havazzhife Zhokwa. Ezo athchilar Athasaroon Virzetha hatif kishi, ma reki vekha yomme moon." I passionately order, finding strength in my words. Hope. They need to hear it, our all is lost.
Rakharo nods. "Varanno, gwe." He tells the other riders. I get a look from Ser Jorah before helping my sister stand, the two of us walking to where Rakharo is readying his horse.
"Rakharo." He turns to me, then my sister, who continues speaking. "Yer athzalar nakhoki kishi, zhey qoy qoyi."
"Anha vos oziyenek shafkea, zhey qoy qoyi." He promises.
My sister smiles. "You never have."
He looks around, worriedly. "This is bad time to start." He climbs onto his horse.
"Rakharo!" He looks down at me, and I take his elbow. "Dothras chek."
"Sek, Jaenarys." He promises, before riding east as he was commanded. I watch him leave with my sister, then walk to Irri to take her hand. The handmaid smiles at me, wiping away her tears. She points to the sky and I look up, watching as a red streak crosses through the clouds.
"A star, Princess." Irri tells me, Davvi's head popping up. My dragon climbs up to rest on my shoulder.
"Yes, Irri."
"What does it mean?"
I shrug, then take her hand. "It means luck will be coming our way."
"I pray to the gods you are right." She walks away and I sigh.
"Me too." Davvi makes a noise and I pull out a small piece of meat. She cranes her thin neck forward, sneezes, then unhappily chews. "I'm sorry, Davvi. I don't know how to help you." She keeps chewing and nuzzles into my neck, her comforting presence reminding me of my fallen friend, her namesake. "But we will figure it out. I promise."
Zhey qoy qoyi! - Blood of my blood!
Zhey Rakharo, zhey Aggo, zhey Kovarro. Fichi hrazef zinayi kishi. Vosma esemrasalat Caraxes. Ma yer adothrae tith; ma yer heshtith; ma yer valshtith. - Rakharo, Aggo, Kovarro. Take our remaining horses. You ride east; you southeast; and you northeast.
Fin kisha fonoki, zhey khaleesi? Khalakki? - What do we seek, khaleesi? Princess?
Vaes, che thiri che drivi. Ma verakasaris ma voji. Che ashefaes che tozaraes che Havazzhife Zhokwa. Ezo athchilar Athasaroon Virzetha hatif kishi, ma reki vekha yomme moon. - Cities, living or dead. Caravans and people. Rivers, or lakes, or the Great Salt Sea. Find how far the Red Waste extends before us, and what lies on the other side.
Varanno, gwe. - Right away, let's go.
Yer athzalar nakhoki kishi, zhey qoy qoyi. - You are our last hope, blood of my blood.
Anha vos oziyenek shafkea, zhey qoy qoyi. - I will not fail you, blood of my blood.
Dothras chek. - Ride well.
