AN: Alright guys here is the next chapter of my story.
WARNING: If you have read the original chapter 1, go an re-read the update that came out of the 20th. Alot of new stuff happened, and this chapter will confuse you if you missed it.
Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones or the Witcher franchise. They are owned by George R. R. Martin and Andrzej Sapkowski.
Enjoy:
Geralt and Mira eventually were able to sell up many of the wares they brought with them at the marketplace. After that debacle with Vorus, Mira just wanted to go home and see her children. Thankfully Geralt was there to shove his vile words back down his throat. Mira will always remember and hold dear that scared begging face of the little slime, what a trying and exciting event.
So now they finished packing the leftover goods, and decided it was time to head home. It was getting late now since daylight was going scarce, and she needed to make supper for her children and Geralt, her working slave/bodyguard. That thought made her smile, what a professional and honorable man she was able to find bleeding on her farm. She couldn't help but think that he would make a great Westerosi knight.
As they both continued to walk down the main road they eventually ran into a familiar flat face. Mira noticed that it was Mirri Maz Duur, the godswife that resides at the temple. Mirri was in front of the bakers purchasing bread when she turned and saw both Geralt and Mira approaching from down the road. The maegi smiled when she recognized them and spoke, "Hello Mira and Geralt, I see you have healed up nicely since we last met." That last statement was towards the witcher.
He nodded towards the godswife, "Thanks to you, how are you?"
"I am well, I owe it all to the Great Shepard," She then turned to the farmer, "And you Mira? How is young Eymir fairing since his bout with deadeye fever?"
Mira nodded happily, "He is quite well, and I could never thank you enough for helping him through such an ordeal." Deadeye fever was a deadly illness in these parts of Essos. It would cause blackness to creep through the entirety of the victims eyes until death came to take them through a painful fever. "It was only thanks to your songs and spells that my son lived, I will be forever grateful."
The maegi simply shook her head, "All thanks goes to the Great Shepard; I learned all my songs because of him." Then Mirri turned to Geralt with a smirk, "I heard an interesting tale today. A white haired beast gave a thrashing to ten grown men and left them for dead in the streets. Care to explain?" The maegi seemed more amused than anything else, rumors always grew into tales of heroic proportions.
Geralt snorted through his nose and began the long winded tale of his run in with Vorus, by the time he was done he saw a frown on the face of the priestess. "What a dreadful boy, hopefully he learned a valuable lesson from his encounter with the great white beast." She said the last part with a smile. She then turned to Mira, "Thank the Lamb God, that you have left that ordeal unscathed."
Mira gave a beatific smile, "Thank Geralt as well, it seems he cannot resist being a shining white knight." Her smile turned deadly, "I think he does it just so he can get into the gowns of women." Both women shared a laugh while Geralt just blinked slightly.
He had to respond to that or he would lose face, "Is it working?" He was staring directly at Mira with his aloof look. She only laughed harder with the priestess.
"Time will tell, oh great warrior," This was Mira's only response.
Once Mirri's laughter died down she began to take her leave, "I must head back to the temple now, more lost sheep require my assistance," She waved as she left, "May the Great Shepard herd you in the right direction." Then she was off.
Geralt and Mira watched her leave around a corner, then they both continued their trek back home. Once they were in front of the stone house, the door burst opened and Nyla came running out to hug her mother around the waist. Mira returned it whole heartedly as she watched her other two sons come out from the home. They spoke in Lhazareen, and to Geralt it seemed she was just asking how their day went.
Then the mother turned her head back to Geralt, "Let us eat supper."
"Teach me how to fight."
"No," The witcher's answer was quick and dry. He did not need to put much thought in it.
It was Rakos who made that request while the family broke bread. He was staring at Geralt with determined brown eyes when he spoke, and Mira looked surprised at her child's sudden demand. Then the mother's eyes softened at tad after she looked towards the boy, as if she knew something.
"Why not!? Everyone's heard how you took care of that pompous fool Vorus, you could teach me to be a real killer." It seems Rakos was quite resolute to learn after all.
"Why should I teach you?" Geralt needed more on the boy's motivation before he made such a decision. Teaching someone how to murder was not small task, and from the look in Rakos's eye he was not looking for just fighting.
"Because I want to be strong like you!" The cropped haired boy seemed to go for an answer that contained some small truth in it.
"That's all? Then no, try another answer," Geralt continued to chew into the lamb steak that Mira roasted with garlic sauce. With the large side of grilled salted asparagus, it made for an outstanding dish.
This time Rakos turned his head to his side, thinking for a bit before he turned back to Geralt, "I want to protect my family, and if I'm weak I can't do that." His new answer was quite honorable and Geralt could feel that the boy honestly meant it. But he was still not admitting the whole truth.
When Geralt turned towards Mira, he could see the gloomy smile directed towards the witcher. He took a heartbeat to study the lovely mother once more, and she still seemed to be a work of art. With her full pink lips and button nose, her face had a perfect golden ratio to it. Her ocean blue eyes complemented her tanned skin nicely, and the way she pulled her black hair into a messy bun added a sensual quality to her. The wolf still counted his lucky stars that she was the one who found him, and that's not just based on her beauty. She was a good, wholesome, independent woman as well. A single mother requires steel in ones spine, and her skeleton was encased in it. An iron forged woman from the cold depths in the North of Westeros. Being born a peasant gave her a value for hard work and sweat, so she was not easily swayed by satin robes and glittering rocks.
It seems that she too knew what ran through the heart of her eldest, but she left the decision wholly up to Geralt.
"No," Was the response yet again. He would not train someone who still hid what lay in their heart, "Come back with the proper answer, and I may consider it."
The boy shot Geralt a disgruntled look, before he quickly finished his meal and went into the room he shared with his siblings. It seems Geralt displeased the boy enough to slam his door, the witcher did not react to the action. Mira only shook her head.
Once Eymir and Nyla finished their meals, they said their thanks and joined their brother in the bedroom.
"I am sorry for his reaction," Mira appeared genuinely sad as she collected the plates from the meal and placed them in the bucket for washing. Geralt still sat at the table and watched the mother go about placing all the dirty plates to the side. She will wash them later, and instead retuned to sit at the table.
"It's no issue," It did not bother the witcher at all, the boy needed an outlet for all that rage he is bottling up. Staying quiet all this time is not healthy for his heart.
"It seems you know what ails him," Mira spoke as Blue and Gold eyes met.
"I can hazard a guess."
She offered him a slight smile, it was quite frail to the witcher, "He was always close with his father." She began a tale one more, "When Rakos was first born Duny would hold him up to the sky and scream with a proud smile, 'This kid will be the best in all the lands' and from then on Rakos stuck to him like mud. They were thick as thieves. While Eymir and Nyla always stood close with me, Rakos was like his father in every way. They went on trades together when Rakos came of age at a decade, and they would always return with tales of joy."
The ocean of her eyes became murky as the tale went on, "Then came that faithful day. Rakos wished to leave with Duny, but he was denied that time. Told him only men could come on this trip, and when he returned they would go on even greater travels. But Duny never returned, and Rakos would wait by the door in hope and anticipation, saying his father would never abandon them."
Mira took a breath before continuing, "He ran out the door in such joy when Duny's friend returned, thinking he would finally see his father but only dark words awaited us. I saw a black light enter my eldest son's eye that day, he tried so hard not to cry. Yet I could hear him at night, such devastated wailing. Then he just got very quiet, but I could see the rage bottle up inside him. Vengeance flows through his blood now."
She ended her tale with those words, and Geralt closed his eyes in contemplation. He would have to make a decision.
"Would you be adverse to him learning?" The question was directed at Mira.
"Adverse?" She shook her head, "No, if anything I would be glad. Defending oneself is a must in our age. Would you be teaching him then?"
"That is entirely up to Rakos," He did not explain what he meant by such words, but Mira could see the underlying meaning.
She nodded to his response, "He won't disappoint you."
Geralt stood up from the table, he will meditate for a bit then head to sleep. Before he could leave he felt a hand on his and turned to Mira. She gave him a close hug which allowed him to feel the curves of her body on his. The fullness of her breasts as they pressed into his ribs, and he adored how her hair tickled his neck from her resting head on his collar bone. He reciprocated the action with a firm hug of his own around her waist. Even though she was forged with iron, she was still a woman.
"Thank you," She stated with a soft whisper, she did not specify what warranted this gratitude. Geralt only nodded. Once they separated she went to her room and prepared for sleep.
When Geralt finished his nightly meditation, he removed the sheepskin bandage that covered his gash. It seems to be healing quickly, too quickly for humans. Already it was scabbed over and in a couple of days only a scar would remain. Another story added to the canvas that was his body. If only he could remember the stories associated with the other scars, but alas amnesia still struck him. Hopefully when he travels around Essos after these next few days he will be able to retrieve some memories.
It was a strange sensation, having all this deadly training yet not remembering the path to the results. When he got into the fight with that snot Vorus and his goons, he did not even think as he fought. It was all muscle reactions and immediate actions, no wasted or hesitated movements; reflexes beyond what was human guided him. He knew he could crush those individuals, but he did not know the why. All the moves are instilled in his body and subconscious. Parry, pirouette sword strike, group slaying, and much more. He must have been fighting for years that is certain.
It seems not even meditation is helping with his memory, but it is too soon to tell. Geralt dug into his trousers and removed the dog amulet found on his person. No matter how much he stared at the treasure, it still set him ill at ease. For a second time since looking towards the dogs, the wolf around his neck shook slightly but stopped after a moment, this time it was noticeable. None of this made sense in Geralt's mind, but he felt the slight chaotic energy coming from the amulet. If only something would return to his mind and point him in the right direction, but his memories were like smoke. This obstruction will not deter him though.
He returned the hound amulet back to safe keeping and just prepared for bed.
Geralt and Rakos were once again working together the next luminous morning. A new garden next to the previous one needs to be dug out, so similar work will be done. The witcher got the feeling that Mira wanted Rakos to speak up about the training, that's why she stuck them together again. Now it was up to the boy to be ready.
"Why will you not train me?"
Geralt turned to the boy to see his head was towards the ground as he used a grub hoe to mix the dirt that was ripped up evenly.
"I didn't say I would not train you," Geralt's response was truthful and simple, "Only that you need a proper answer for as to why I should train you."
Rakos looked up sharply, "Did I not give you one. I need strength to protect my family."
"An honorable goal if nothing else," Geralt continued onwards, "And there may be some truth in your words, but you're omitting something."
"What are you speaking of, I told nothing but truth." Even though he said these words, Rakos voice trembled slightly.
All Geralt did was turn his piercing golden wolf eyes towards the boy's face, no response was needed.
"What is it you wish to hear, huh," A white knuckle grip appeared on the grub hoe in the boy's hand, and a dark shadow covered his eyes as he looked down, "That I aspire to rip out the entrails of Khal Ogo and shove them down his throat." These words were spoken in a menacing whisper.
"Watch him choke to death as I beat him with a whip like he did my father," The words were pouring out now as he looked up harshly into Geralt's eyes, "That savage oaf took my father away from me! For what purpose!? Just so he can have a slave! Those barbarians will get nothing but death from my hands whether you teach me or not!"
The wolf did not budge as Rakos yelled in rage, the boy needed this.
"It boils the blood in me knowing that sick Khal lives to this day. He must die for his actions, because my father was only one of the thousands that man has enslaved! If no one will stand to that Khal then I will!"
"Even if that means abandoning your family," Geralt's quick response was meant to test the child's resolve.
"When Eymir comes of age he can take of the farm and family," Rakos response was just as quick, "I am not destined to live and die on this plot of land. I will make sure of that."
"And if they are attacked while you are gone, how will you protect them then?" Now to see his true mettle.
Rakos took a breath and closed his eyes, "I must live with my choices, no matter the outcome they bring. It would devastate me to see more of my family pass, but to not pursue this goal would bring great regret to me." The boy was resolute, he would not be swayed. From what Geralt could tell, Rakos thought of this for quite some time.
"To seek revenge one must dig two graves, one for their victim and the other for themselves," One more statement to see if the boy knew exactly what he was getting into.
Rakos stared up towards Geralt without fear, "I will admit that I seek vengeance, but it is not that simple. These Dothraki are violent scum of the plains. They attack peaceful villages and Lhazareen people just because they have the strength to do so. They have no order, no law, just their own selfish desire. They are beast in human skin, so I will not be just killing humans. This will be monster slaying."
Monster slaying.
Violent images passed by Geralt's mind. Great birds the size of small huts ripping human flesh to pieces with their talons and beaks. Massive wolves that stand on hind legs swiping towards the witcher's face like wind with their piercing claws. Phantasmal human-like creatures that hold transparent forms giving shrill shrieks of rage at his approach. A massive group of drowned undead sprinting towards him with the intent to kill. Monsters. From these memories Geralt could tell much of these ill beings died by his sword. Is this who he was? A monster slayer? A piece of the puzzle that was his past has been granted to him.
Rakos stood still as he watched the white haired man enter a trance of some sort. The man who entered his family's life did not move at all as this blank look entered his animal eyes, but soon he shook his head to gain his bearings. "Are you alright?" Rakos wondered what brought on this strange behavior.
Geralt did not provide detail to his slight bout with his memory. It was best to keep these thoughts to himself and find out more about these creatures before rambling to others. So he just turned to Rakos and stared him down a bit longer before speaking, "So you want to slay monsters with my teachings?" Rakos did not know just how lucky he was.
"Yes," The son of Duny nodded his head vigorously, his previous question forgotten.
"Then you'll begin learning after work today," The light of excitement that crossed the boy's face caused Geralt to smirk a bit, "It will not be easy, you'll hate me for the training I'll put you through."
"No I could never hate you for the chance you bring me," Rakos shook his head at the statement.
"You say that now…" the witcher trailed off there, "You must get two blunt longswords for practice, I trust you can fetch those?" The boy nodded his head, "Make sure they are heavier than normal, the weight will be needed for you."
The speed at which the boy nodded his head might snap his neck off. The excitement of youth.
Geralt supposed he could give the boy some training, after all without his words the witcher would have no place to begin the search of his past. Not only that, such techniques to defend oneself are a must. So the wolf will search about these monsters during his stay in Lhazar while he trained the boy. See if those monsters have a connection to him.
It seems the white wolf will be staying in Lhazar longer than anticipated.
"I said Parry!"
"I'm trying!"
"Well try harder and faster! If I was an enemy you would be bleeding on the ground!"
Mira watched in amusement at the interaction between Geralt and Rakos. It seems Rakos was able to weasel out the training after all. Nyla and Eymir finished their work and were currently playing with the other children on the main road, out front. The mother decided to sit out back on a stool to watch how her son soaked up the training presented to him, and currently he was a sweating and bruised mess on the dirt.
Geralt was ruthless with his training and only offered minuscule breaks. The training was designed to push the body to its max limits to promote strength, speed and power as he stated. Next he would work on his endurance. This was all done while gaining battle experience by sparing with Geralt consistently. Truly hellish.
"Get up, now we fight with fists," The witcher commanded.
"But I thought I was learning how to use a sword," The boy was perplexed while he tried to stand, his legs felt like soft fruit.
"Only a fool completely relies on a weapon," The wolf stated harshly, "What happens when it is taken from you? Hand to hand is the basis of all combat, and if you can crush a man with your fist a sword would only make you deadlier. So you'll be learning how to use both."
The boy nodded as he lifted his sore arms into fists, that blunt sword he got murdered his shoulders.
"Keep your feet shoulder width apart and bend your knees slightly, your power comes from your core so explode from there when you strike." Geralt instructed as he lifted his hands into open palms, "Now strike!"
The boy tried, missed and earned a harsh slap to his ear as he tumbled forward. Mira shook her head with a laugh as she watched her son groan in pain. He desired this after all, so he will reap what he sowed. After the spar they went back to sprints while carrying logs, Geralt ran besides her boy to motivate him supposedly.
"Keep moving! Don't you dare stop!" What a harsh taskmaster.
This nightmarish training proceeded until the sun began to fall, and eventually Geralt relieved Rakos of the dutiful practice. Mira approached the two of them and saw that Geralt was barely winded, while Rakos was gulping for breaths on the floor. "So did you enjoy your training?" The mothers smile was so innocent that Rakos knew she enjoyed his pain.
"Ughh…" He couldn't speak. Everything hurt.
"Well get inside, I am making dinner and it will be done soon." She watched as her son pulled himself from the grave and waddle into the house. She turned back to Geralt with a smirk and raised eyebrow.
He only shrugged and spoke with that deadpan voice and face of his, "He wanted to learn."
She tittered lightly, "That he did, now come with me so we may eat."
The family gathered together to eat and Geralt noticed Rakos just wanted to eat so he could sleep. Supper was the usual affair and once the children finished they went to bed, Nyla and Eymir were laughing at the pain Rakos felt each step he took.
When everything was cleaned up Geralt spoke up, "I'll be going to the temple for a bit."
"The temple," Mira looked at him in question, "What do you need there?"
"I need some information, and they have some books there," They may have legends on those monsters that entered his mind. Maybe he could find some information on their hunters as well.
"I see," The farmer nodded her head, "Be careful as you go there, I will bathe before heading to sleep." The mother left with those last words and Geralt went on his way. Time to see if he could unlock more memories.
Impossible, Geralt thought as he sat on a table with a candle light next to him while he stared into the book. A stack of tomes in common tongue sat beside him and he could find nothing in each of them about what he remembered. The library here only had a small amount of Westerosi written books, they are quite hard to acquire apparently. He remembered many monsters and some did not appear in the books he found. Sure he found knowledge on dragons, unicorns, and krakens, but they are only legends. Said not to be among men for centuries.
However the specific monsters he searched for he could not find. No drowners, werewolves, ghouls, wraiths, harpies, or Draugirs. Some did exists, basilisks and wyverns being them, but there were many inconsistencies in what he was finding so it just left him with more questions. He couldn't even find information on those who hunted them; not many made a profession from monster hunting. No one like him especially.
So what happened to all the monsters that live in his memories? It was a shame that he could only remember the monsters he hunted and the fights when he slew them. He could not remember anything else other than his monster hunting, not even the people who trained him for it. The gaps in his memories are very unhelpful.
He saw Mirri approach him from the side of his eye and sit in front of him, "Did you find what you seek?" She was the one who helped him find the books.
"No," He stated in disappointment, "Only more questions and less answers."
"Why search about monsters might I ask?" She was curious as to the specific subject he was looking for.
Geralt debated on whether he should tell her or not. Eventually he decided that keeping such things to himself would not assist him, he needs to find information wherever it rested. "I believe I was a monster hunter, and I wanted to see if I could find any information on beasts that would affect my memories. Yet nothing."
"A monster hunter you say?" She quirked an eyebrow, "There are many monsters in this world, shadowcats, wyverns, and basilisks to name a few. You hunted these monster as a profession?" It certainly explained all the scars and his skill in fighting.
"Of a sort," He did not go into any more detail, because the monsters he was looking for did not seem to live here. Maybe they just didn't have the proper knowledge of them in this part of the world?
"Well I am sorry to say I know not much of such creatures, only the Spirits and dead are to my understanding," She provided him with a piece of information that startled him.
Spirits and dead? What does she mean, this thought entered his head. He spoke to her with his narrowed golden eyes, "You speak of controlling these wraiths?"
She gave him a smile that set him on edge, "I do not control them, I simply sing and they dance to my tune. If they wish to assist me that is up to them."
Geralt did not like that at all. The dead are to be left alone, their time in this world has passed. Those arts are forbidden not only on an ethical level, but a simple human level to Geralt. He made sure that this maegi understood that, "Such dark arts only lead to ruin, not many consider them worthy of praise to know."
"I paid a price for learning such magic, so I understand the depths of it possibilities," She did not explain the price which she paid. It could only be dearly.
At least Geralt learned that wraiths possibly live in this area as well. However now it was time to take his leave, so he said his goodbyes to the witch and left go back and sleep. He did not wish to be in the temple anymore. He is not prejudice towards mages, but the actions of people need to be considered. Any mage who wishes to control the dead is one who can prove to have a black side to them. He must be careful around that woman now, which is a shame, he likes her.
When he arrived to the front of the hut, he saw Mira sitting on the bench by a candle light and a tome in her hand. He sat next to her and was enveloped with her lovely fresh bathed sent. She smelled of freshly cut lavenders, and clean linens. It was heavenly to his nose.
"I thought you would be sleeping?" She did say she was preparing for bed.
"I was not tired yet," She looked up from her tome and turned to Geralt. This time her hair was not up in a bun, but it flowed down to the small of her back like a black waterfall, "So I decided reading a tome would help tire my eyes before sleeping. It was such a nice night that not experiencing it would be a shame."
It was a nice night, nary a cloud was in sight and the moon gave off such strong light that it illuminated the whole town with its soft glow. Crickets purred softly which added to the characteristic depth of the night. Lhazar had such breathtaking night times.
They enjoyed the quiet that was brought to them as they once again sat and stared into the night. These moments were precious to Geralt. While others pursue many grand happenings, the white wolf learned to appreciate the beauty in simplicity. It felt great to just share this night with another.
Geralt felt a head softly rest onto his shoulder as a soft calloused hand grabbed hold of his. He turned see Mira rest and breathe softly onto him before she responded, "I just want to enjoy this quiet night; can we sit here for a time?"
Geralt just nodded his head before he relaxed his back against the house so Mira could sit more comfortably.
The next week in Lhazar did not change much. Geralt would awake and assist Mira and the children with farm work. Afterwards, Rakos would experience much pain and dread while training. Geralt was preparing him though. In time he will leave and Rakos will have a strict training regime to follow, so his strength would only be up to him. His independence is an important factor to growing up, especially someone with his goal. Yet he left Rakos with words of warning.
"You will not attack or murder someone innocent. These skills are only to protect yourself, your family, and to kill monsters. Only true monsters deserve your sword, and if I find that you murdered the guiltless, you will regret it. Do you understand?"
He did not need to explain what monsters meant, for monsters come in all shapes and sizes. Including human shaped. Rakos pledged himself to those words and Geralt was glad to hear it.
The white wolf's time in Lhazar will come to an end, but first he must complete Rakos's training. Also he has yet to get the invite to the bed of Mira and he is hoping for it soon. Yet it was no longer just about sex to him, he actually likes this woman he has come to know. So he just wants to please her in all possible ways, including in the ways of bedding.
So life went on in Lhazar, and the peaceful mornings continued. Yet the time of halcyon days always approaches an end.
Geralt awoke to loud shouts and screaming. They seemed to be far from the house but to his senses it was as if they were in the room with him. He stood up from his cot and quickly donned his boots and clothing. Running outside the home he could smoke rising from the distance on the other side of town, people were screaming and yelling in pain. This felt familiar to the witcher, someone was sacking the town. He felt a hand rest on his shoulder and turned to see Mira staring wide eyed at the current carnage. The white wolf needed to act fast.
"Get inside and take the children into your room, barricade the doors," She looked at him in shock, still not believing this is currently happening. So he shook her, "I need to find a weapon, so get ready to move now!"
"There is a bladed longsword inside the storage room," Rakos, the eldest son responded from behind Mira. He held his two siblings by their hands.
Geralt turned towards his protégé, "Bring it to me."
Once he had the longsword in his hand, he made sure Mira and the children got situated safely in her room. Before he could leave however, Mira grabbed him by his shoulders and gave him a tender kiss on his lips. Geralt made sure he could taste everything from her, for this could be his last one. Every battle had a chance of death, but the witcher will always fight to the end. If evil comes to take something from him, he will always fight; to the death. Once they pulled away, he gently pushed her inside the room and shut the door, "Barricade it, and stay away from windows!"
He stood near the front door of the hut and discreetly looked out the window. These warriors move fast, he noticed. Already he could see a group of copper skinned, leather armored, horse riders plow down the streets in a quick gallop with their scythe like blades. They were butchering anything in sight, men, woman, and children. It made no difference to them, they will get their spoils of war when the fighting died down. At least the sword in his hand is one made of good steel, it will do well in this battle with its V shaped cross-guard and leather handle. A witcher with a sword in his hand is a deadly opponent for even dragons to face.
A group of foot soldiers started kicking down the doors to the houses farther up the main road, searching for more blood. Geralt could smell blood in the air, as more of these barbarians came through. Apparently the guards of this town are not well trained, because the witcher saw quite a few run away while their fellow guardsmen were cut down. This city will not last long against such a tenacious force. Were these the Dothraki he heard so much about? No matter, they will fall if they come here, the white wolf will make sure of that.
A group of Dothraki screamers are approaching this door now, it was only a matter of time. He could hear them bark out orders in that brutal and ineloquent language of theirs. It seems language really does show how people truly are; culturally and individually. The people of Lhazar have their soft spoken and rhythmic language to show that they support peace and unity. The Dothraki's language speaks of their violent and bestial behavior, with its curt stops and harsh pronunciation. Geralt knew at that moment there was no possible chance of peace, the Dothraki's blood will be spilled.
Before their feet could crash open the door, the White Wolf kicked it towards them with such a force that it broke off and crashed into the first adversary. That man was dead by a longsword in the gut before he had a chance to even blink. The rest of the group quickly backed away, Geralt counted seven. This will be quick work for him as he raised his sword and prepared to send more lives to the other side.
She sat gracefully upon her magnificent young and spirited silver frilly. Even with her bulbous belly displaying the state of her pregnancy, Daenerys Targaryen khaleesi to the khalasar of the blooded warrior Khal Drogo, rode forward in a slow trot. Her splendor was noticed by all with her silver-blonde hair, shining purple eyes, and sun tanned porcelain like skin. Her short curvaceous stature did nothing to hide the long shadow she casts. Even though she was pregnant it was Dothraki custom for her to be able to ride a horse until her child's birth, however she also does not wish to appear weak in the eyes of her Sun-and-Stars. Many would tell her though that she is far from the meek and timid girl she once was, after all the blood of the dragon rushed strongly through her veins.
Dany's beauty however was currently being juxtaposed to the scene that surrounded her. The mighy Khal Drogo's khalasar was almost finished slaughtering and pillaging the lamb men of the rather large town they came across. Apparently, they needed slaves and merchandise so they can gather the ships they needed to cross the narrow sea and take back her iron throne. So they will be collecting what was required in this town, a nasty business in the eyes of the khaleesi.
Being a victim of brutalization herself gave her much empathy towards those suffering from such a fate. Dany's heart ached as she heard the cries of mothers holding their dead children, the screams of bloody slaves being cracked with whips, and the shrieks of children as death closed down on them for trying to escape. Nevertheless, she must be strong so she steeled her emotions, for if she wants the iron throne it will require strength to take it. Men only respect might in this world of hers.
Ser Jorah Mormont rode besides her in this carnage, with his green surcoat surrounding his mail. Gauntlets, greaves, and helm of dark steel protecting him from damage that approached his way. When they met at the entrance gate of the town, he told her Drogo awaited for her near the center of town. So Dany and her handmaidens, protected by Ser Jorah and her khas, low level soldiers, strode forward to meet her lord husband.
Dany couldn't help but feel worry for her sun-and-stars, "Did Drogo come to harm?"
"Only a few cuts," The bear responded, "He battled many lamb guards today, some captains of great renown, but they all fell." Dany was relieved to hear.
"Few sheep herders fled, but many a thousand were also captured," As Jorah spoke, Dany thought of their fate. They would be taken to some town in Slavers Bay or Meereen, and neither spot bode well for the newly enslaved soft sheep. Dany wanted to cry, but this was the price for her iron throne, the blood family of dragons does not weep, she must stay strong.
Her hands tightened on the reigns of her silver as she heard the screams of a girl no older than her across the main road, she was face down on a pile of corpses being mounted unwillingly by a horselord. She couldn't help but notice a queue of other riders were waiting their turn. Dany tried to ignore it, but the long sobbing wails the girl produced ignited a fire in her.
"Make them stop," she commanded.
"Khaleesi?" The knight and her khas were baffled.
"Did you misinterpret my command? Stop them," The khaleesi will have her way.
"Princess," Jorah turned to her, "You are kind, but this is the way of war. The horselords fought and died for their Khal, so they will have their rewards."
Dany was quick to respond, "She will no longer be harmed, I claim her as my own," She then turned to her khas, "Do as I command or Drogo will hear of this."
"Ai, khaleesi," They carried out her orders with haste. Jorah turned to her with a smile.
"You really are the blood of Rhaegar," Dany didn't respond as Jorah the Andal road off to assist the kahs.
First her warriors ordered the other horselords but they were laughed off. The next attempt was not nearly as forgiving. Jhogo, one of her kahs, swung his arakh towards the rapist and beheaded the man in a single sweep. The others waiting for their turn quickly backed away when they realized her kahs were following her orders. When the girl was brought to her, she trembled with blank eyes, Dany made one of her handmaidens look to the poor girl's pain.
As they continued on the road to Drogo, the heir to the seven kingdoms gathered more rape victims, both young and old. Eventually Jorah spoke up warning the khaleesi that the Dothraki following Drogo will not appreciate this. This did not deter her one bit.
Eventually they found the mighty Khal sitting in front of a stone and mud temple. Even sitting he proposed an intimidating figure, with his mustachio and long braided hair signifying his undefeated status. Besides him were his ever vigilant bloodriders and a pile of heads almost as tall as Drogo; each man contained some sort of wound, the sheep fought well but failed. An arrow from the lamb men stuck out in the upper meat of Drogo's muscled right arm, and a cut that slid from the right top of his chest to his nipple opened enough skin for blood and muscle to be visible.
The Khal got injured because he desired some challenge, and he knew the Lhazareen would give him no contest if he attacked with his whole horde; so he gave the sheep men the chance to show some spine. He attacked the lamb town with only a measly two thousand of his forty thousand strong khalasar while the rest of his force awaited outside the gates incase needed. Even with his reduced numbers the weak sheep could not stand before their ruthlessness. From what Dany knew many of the khalasar still awaited camped outside the gates.
"You are wounded sun of my life," she said in worried while she knelt before her lord husband.
"Tis a scratch moon of my life," He replied in the common tongue, "Small lamb men with even smaller arms, make easy for I to lose sight of them. They pay with their lives."
She smiled at his strength, "None can oppose one as strong as the sun of my life."
A Dothraki screamer rode up to the Khal and dropped down from his horse. He spoke to one of Drogo's bloodriders in a harsh stream of Dothraki words that went over the khaleesi's head.
Haggo, the bloodrider, turned a hard face to the great Khal and said, "This rider is called Mago. He says that the khaleesi has taken his spoils, a daughter of the lamb men."
Khal Drogo's face was a picture of stone when he turned to Dany, "Is this true?" This time he spoke in Dothraki.
Since he spoke in Dothraki, Daenerys did the same and explained what she had done. She was direct with her words and her face showed no fear. The khal voiced his displeasure by stating that this was the way of war, the weak are oppressed while the strong get their spoils. However that did not appease the dragon in her.
"If your warriors wish to mount these women, they must keep them as wives," She would offer no quarter.
The cruelest of Drogo's bloodriders spoke in disgust, "The horses do not produce with sheep."
Anger colored the khaleesi's voice, "The dragon feeds on horses and sheep alike."
The great khal barked in laughter, "She how fierce she grows! My son in her brings out her hidden fire!" The great rider was immensely proud of his moon, "Mago, these slaves belong to the khaleesi, find elsewhere to stick your cock." The rider left with a mad look dancing across his face, it seem this slight would not go well with Mago. When the khal lifted his hand to his wife, he grimaced in pain. Dany noticed.
"Bring the healers," she ordered.
Ser Jorah responded, "They are busy with other riders' khaleesi."
"Silver lady," someone called out, "I can heal the khal's wounds."
It was the rotund Lhazareen women she saved from one of the riders. While the bloodriders disagreed saying this women, Mirri Maz Duur, laid with demons, Dany only cared to heal her husband. So the maegi removed the arrow and applied the patch and ointment necessary to heal the great khal's wounds.
It was after the healing that another horse rider came galloping to the Khal from the east side of town, fear expressed on his face. He leapt from his horse and landed in front of the khal speaking in rushed Dothraki. Dany only caught some of the words spoken, 'white demon' was one of them. The daughter of the mad king noticed that the maegi, Mirri, jump slightly at the words mentioned from the rider.
"Khaleesi," Jorah started to translate for her, "This rider was serving in the khas of Ko Pono who was tasked to take the south-eastern part of town with a group of two hundred. They lost half of their forces to archers during the main fighting, but something else has happened. It seems Ko Pono and the rest of his forces are dying at the hands of a platinum white haired demon."
Platinum white hair? From what Daenerys understood only Valyrian's have such features or a really old man. She couldn't help but be interested, but Drogo was more interested in the strength of this warrior. After all, to strike fear in a Dothraki one must cast a large shadow. Dany watched as a grin spread across the face of her lord husband, he was looking for blood now. He barked out orders in Dothraki to his bloodriders and a group fellow warriors.
They will be riding out to the east of town. Dany stood up with him and went to her horse. Jorah turned to her in surprise, "Khaleesi, there is no need to put yourself in this danger."
"I'm interested in seeing who is still fighting after all this," She was determined to see who this white haired man was, "Besides Drogo will be there, and so I will not be in danger." She trusts her husband whole heartedly.
Drogo looked to his wife from atop his red stallion with a smile, he was not worried for her. After all, the safest place for her was by his side and he will not be going anywhere for a while.
Mira with the help of her children quickly pushed her oaken dresser in front of the door, preventing it from opening. Once that was taken care of she grabbed her children by their hands and moved into the corner of the room, away from the sole window. She could hear screams erupt from outside so she told her children to sit down and cover their ears. They did not need to be scarred by the bloodcurdling shrieks. At least her children obeyed.
Once again Dothraki have come to take what was important to her. First it was her husband and now her peaceful town and possibly her children. What right do these barbarians have!? She couldn't stop the sickening weight that entered her stomach. She hopes the mysterious man, Geralt, is enough to protect her family. Even though she hoped, she knew it was impractical for one man to fight a horde. With any luck the lamb god smiles upon her family and they will be able to escape this nightmare alive.
Ultimately, she heard her front door explode with a crash, and her children jumped. She had to hush her youngest, Nyla, to stop her from crying but tears still escaped her blue eyes. They could not attract any Dothraki with noise, it would be their end. She heard harsh breathing coming from Rakos, and Mira turned to see him clutching his fist tightly as anger entered his gaze.
She whispered to him, "Do not think of leaving this spot!" They do not need any foolish heroics right now. She just wants her children alive and safe at the end of this, nothing more.
He turned his flashing eyes to her, "We should just sit here while Geralt gives his life for us, I will not be a craven; I am trained for this!" Ever since his father died at the hands of Dothraki, Rakos became a quiet child, but Mira saw what was in his heart. Anger, pure unadulterated rage. Now the outlet for his rage sits in front of his home, but Mira will not let him run off to death.
"I do not care if you are seen as craven and you only trained for a week! I will not lose any of my children!" Her harsh whispers seemed to have gotten through to him as he began to slow his breathing. "You are the eldest so you must watch over you brother and sister." Those final words seem to have shaken him slightly as he looked towards his crying sister and his brother who closed his eyes shut and covered his ears to block out the world.
They could hear the clashing of steel outside the window, followed by more shrieks and grunts of pain. Considering more fighting is still going on outside and no Dothraki have come for them, Geralt must be holding them off rather well.
Once her thoughts turned to Geralt she could not help but wonder about the taciturn man. Even though he did smile slightly and chuckle, they were on rare occasion. One had to coax those kinds of responses out of him, but luckily Mira was skilled in the art of conversation and reading people; it comes with being well traveled. She got the impression that he was a lone wolf that preferred being alone, yet also was not above enjoying company.
He was definitely a womanizer, with his roguish charm, confidence, and aloof persona; all manner of woman were opened to him. Yet also a man of honor given the fact he was laying his life on the line to protect her family. The amount of gratitude she has towards this alien man now is endless.
Which is why the pit in her stomach increased tenfold, because the idea of this man giving up his life for a family he just met made her feel… conflicted. She was happy that a chance of survival for her family improved, yet saddened that she may never get a chance to enjoy his company if he made a misstep. If she could help him in any way she will take that chance, because this lovely mother knows she will regret missing that chance.
And Mira will always do her best to not live with any regrets.
More horrid yells approached her from the window, and from her angle she was able to see a Dothraki run up the main road without his right arm before an arrow entered his throat. It seems not all the guards have abandon the city yet, there may actually be some hope in this situation. She will continue to watch through the window, and glean any information she can. Fortunately being crouched this low to the floor allowed her to be able to see through the window, but others would not see her unless they came right next to it.
Yes, Mira will continue to watch, to not do so will be an insult to the man fighting for their lives. After all she is a Westerosi Notherner, and they are always loyal to those they owe a debt to. Loyalty runs deep in their veins.
An: So how was it? Please give some constructive criticism, it would help not only me but you guys as well. Since it makes me a better writer.
Also don't you guys just hate cliffhangers? Always missing the big fight till next time, which I will do my best to make awesome for the next chapter.
Till next time! XD