DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING
A/N: Big thanks to all those who followed, favorited and reviewed the story, it really means a lot.
Rhaego stared at the hard orb sitting in his hand. His purple eyes scanned over every inch of the ancient rock as he slowly turned it about, it was so very old yet its age did not lessen its durability, in fact it was quite the contrary; the ages had only made the egg stronger. Even in death the dragon does not fade he mused to himself.
"Still playing with that thing?" came Jorah's voice as he entered Rhaego's tent, stirring the young Khal from his thoughts.
"Do you know how long it would take to turn this into stone?"
Jorah shrugged as he sat down on a chair beside Rhaego. "A very long time?"
"Yes a very long time. This egg remained undamaged for hundreds of years and was rewarded for its patience by becoming stone." said Rhaego as he gave the egg one fleeting look before he placed it back inside a chest and turning to face the old knight. "What do you need Ser?"
The old bear smiled tiredly as he handed Rhaego a horn of mare's milk which the young Khal gratefully accepted. Mormont seemed to be trying to decide how to best proceed with whatever he was going to say next, a gesture which worried Rhaego as the Bear had never been afraid to speak his mind in front of him before.
"You have your prize. Why not return to Pentos, to your mother?" asked Jorah after a moment.
Rhaego took a mouthful from his horn of mare's milk and looked carefully at his old Bear. The man had been with Rhaego since he was a babe and was in all honesty the closest thing he ever had to a father and he was fairly sure that Mormont was in love with his mother, though he had never acted on it. Is that why he wants us to go back, to see mother? The thought made sense.
"This egg is one of three, Jorah. Three of the most valuable objects in the entire world and she sold them for a pittance for my sake. I'll not return to her until I have reclaimed them all." He said with a sense of finality.
"It took us three years just to find this one, we'll be spending the rest of our lives on this fool's errant." replied Jorah angrily.
Rhaego gave the old man an irate look before rising from his chair and grabbing a roll of paper from his desk and handed it to Jorah. "Our good friend in Pentos has told me of the locations of the other two eggs."
Jorah scanned the paper quickly before scrunching it up in anger. "We can't trust this Magister! He takes in your mother but allows you to go off on your own for three years! And now this piece of information, the man is deliberately trying to keep you away!"
Rhaego stared down at the older man, the young Khal less than half his age but already towering above him. He was beginning to grow irritated by the old bear's constant questioning of his judgement and wondered if perhaps he should just give him leave to return to his mother. But then who would speak plainly to me? Who else would speak at me without reproach? All of his Bloodriders would gladly lay down their lives for him if need be, yet none of them knew how to think outside the box, not like Jorah with his Westerosi knowledge of war.
"I know where they are now Jorah; it'll only be a simple matter of retrieving them. Then we can all return to Pentos and things can be as just they were." He said in his most negotiating tone.
"Is this about the Prophecy?" asked Jorah suddenly.
Rhaego's whole body went stiff at that and he began clenching and unclenching his jaw. His purple eyes narrowed on the old man and he felt a deep rage overcome him and for a moment he considered breaking the other man's face but instead took a deep breath and walked over and poured himself another drink.
"I suggest you get some sleep Ser, we ride for the lamb men first thing in the morning." He said quietly without looking back at him.
They managed to reach a village of the lamb men by noon after they had set off earlier the following day, and Rhaego had to admit one of the few perks of having only a hundred men in his feeble Khalasar was that it made travel much quicker. We may be small, but I would not trade one of my men for ten of any others…
Most of the men riding with Rhaego were children of the few followers that had fled with his mother after his father had died and had grown up with him at Pentos. I wonder, did my father ever have people he could trust with his life? He asked himself, though somehow he doubted it. His bloodriders were more than sworn swords and whips; they were his friends and he felt it was just as much his responsibility to protect them as they did for him.
When they came within sight of the village Rhaego sent out a rider to alert the lamb men of their presence; he would give them the chance to pay homage to his horde or try and fight them, but given the village's size he didn't expect much difficulty. Part of him craved for a good fight, to have his blade taste blood once again but then the other part of him, the part that wasn't controlled by animalistic instinct, kept him in check as they waited for his scouts return.
He did not have to wait long as it turned out when the rider returned to them with a grin on his face and a sack of wine in his hand. "They will pay homage Blood of my blood, with food and water and women if we so wish it."
"You have done well Tommo." replied Rhaego before turning to his men from atop his red stallion. "We shall go forth and enjoy the gifts these lamb men have given us, but we cannot be burdened by crying women, fuck them if you must but leave them here. Is that understood?" he asked in the fierce voice he put on when he said something he knew his men wouldn't like.
They all murmured in agreement and with that Rhaego rode towards the village in a trotting pace as his men followed behind him. As he entered the tiny village he saw many of its inhabitants drop to the hands and knees before him as he rode forth into the centre of the village where many of the village chieftains stood along with a gracious amount of food and water, along with dozens of young women who were being presented like cattle at market. None of them would look him in the eye as he rode past and he felt a vague pang of pity at seeing how terrified they were. He banished the thought from his head immediately. Life is full of struggles, a weight that makes us stronger.
Seeing his Khalasar behind him he dismounted from his great red steed and watched as his riders did likewise before he turned his attention to the village elders as they approached him. Each one of these spiritual leaders were short, near blind, old men with twisted backs and shaking limbs yet they approached Rhaego without even the slightest hint of fear.
"Greetings great Khal of Khals, mighty stallion who mounts the world." croaked one man as he smiled curiously at the tall copper lord who stood before him.
Rhaego almost flinched at the old man using the moniker that he had received before he had even been born but quickly put his feelings aside as stared down at the tiny man before him. "You have given my Khalasar a fair gift old man; in return you can keep this pile of twigs you call home intact."
Many of the old men bowed in submission at that but one of them suddenly reached out and grabbed the Khal's arm. "Tell me, when are the dragons coming? The Harpy stirs in the east and the Cold Ones rise in the West. The fire must return to the world!" shouted the old man as he desperately began shaking Rhaego until he suddenly grasped the small man around the throat and lifted him high in the air.
"Dragons and Harpies, what madness are you on about?" he asked as he watched the old man turn blue in the face.
"Please! Fontuya has lost his wits; he knows not what he says! Please show him mercy oh great Khal." begged another old man at his side.
Rhaego looked back at the old man as he struggled for air and felt his anger dissipate and gently released the man from his grasp, chiding himself for letting his temper get the better of him and pinched the ridge of his nose in irritation. "Go back to your homes before I decide that perhaps me and my men would be better off burning your village to the ground and taking your women for slaves."
The old men didn't need to be told twice and scurried off back into their huts whilst Rhaego and his men helped themselves to the tribute that had been laid out for them, eating some of the food and drinking some of the wine before packing the rest for later use while some of his men fucked the women right there out in the open as was the Dothraki way.
Rhaego however did not partake in his Khalasar's revelry and instead helped himself to a skin of wine and sat down in a shady spot and tried to make sense of the old man's words. His solitude was short lived however as Jorah sat down beside him and the Khal offered him the skin of wine which the bear knight happily took a mouthful of.
"It's been years since I've had anything other mare's milk. Tastes like piss compared to stuff I had back in Westeros but wine's wine." He explained with a hint of merriment in his voice.
"My Mother used to say that Dornish wine was the best." replied Rhaego distantly.
"Aye, the Dornish are a mad lot but they know how to make a fine wine." laughed Jorah before handing the skin back to Rhaego.
The young Khal briefly remembered what his mother had told him as a child, of his brave uncle Rhaegar who had been married to a princess of Dorne and how the Dornish would one day help her reclaim their family's Iron Throne. Just another of the many broken dreams that we delude ourselves with he mused sadly as he felt a wave of melancholy overcome him.
Suddenly he felt Jorah watching him. "What's the matter lad?"
Rhaego was silent for a time but then looked at Jorah with a deeply tired expression that showed just how exhausted the young man really was despite what he would have those around him believe. "That old man's ravings, his talk of dragons and harpies…it's just like that damned prophecy, it'll follow me around forever; I'll always be compared to something that I'm not."
Mormont let out a deep sigh and gave the young Khal's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "That prophecy was made by a bunch of dried up old women who have spent too much time in the sun, the truth is that such power was beyond the likes of them, beyond the likes of anyone. No one knows the future lad. Your destiny is your own."
Rhaego sat in silence as he tried to absorb Jorah's words into his mind. Perhaps the only power such prophecies had was what men assigned to them, either way he knew he couldn't let those kind of thoughts hold him back as they had.
Standing to his feet Rhaego took a large swig of his wine before looking down at Jorah. "Tell the men to enjoy themselves today, for we ride for Qarth at nightfall."