DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters from either ASOIAF or MBoTF, I'm just borrowing them to have some fun. I own the OCs, though.

This has been published on the Valyrian_Forged livejournal community on 04/06/2012 under the title "A Meeting of Dragons"

WARNINGS: implied sex. Nothing too bad.

Enjoy, and don't forget to review.


IMPORTANT A.N. For those not familiar with the MBoTF saga (contains spoilers)

The Tiste Andii share a link to emo, sorrowful exile with Tolkien's elves. It is one of the main plot points of the saga.

Sheltatha Lore, aka Sister Dusk, is another Soletaken ascendant, a Tiste Edur, therefore grey-skinned, which was sealed in the same Azath burial ground as Silchas by her two half-sisters. Talk about screwed-up families...

Anomander Rake is a womaniser, yes. I have counted at least five lady loves and six or seven children of his during the novels. And Silchas got mistaken for a Liosan at least once or twice.

Draconus is an Elder God, who was for a time consort of Mother Dark. Her already grown sons were not thrilled, to be honest.

For further information on MBoTF you might want to check:

Malazan Wiki
Encyclopedia Malazica


Riding with the khalasar was at the same time easier and harder than Silchas Ruin could have anticipated. Easier as, after the first few days of pain and embarrassment, his body accustomed again to the strain and the motion, harder as the whole situation echoed some of his most painful memories and yet was so dissimilar.

Every time he turned on the saddle, he fully expected to see his host marching in the gloom behind him, desperate and hollow eyed, an army of the lost in search of a new home after Kharkanas had burned, walking silently on the road opened by a blind poet, yet under his eyes was a noisy, rowdy column of horsewarriors, scouts breaking away and returning, youths racing each other, women jabbering away. They were not fleeing, they were just riding as they always did, as they always would, leading the herds in search of fresh pastures, raiding neighbour lands for gold and slaves, battling against enemy clans, in short leading their simple but complex life of perpetual motion. Not his life, not his people, but now his responsibility, his and his false wife's.

Even he was surprised at how easily he had slipped in the role of warleader to this clan. During the daily ride, the queen had taught him and Rud the basics of the dothraki language, enough to make themselves understood and, with her discreet help, he was managing the tribe, selecting outriders, hearing reports, commanding when and where to strike the camp. The horsewarriors were wary of him, as they would be of any stranger, more so of a stranger who didn't even look human like them, but they obeyed him and it was enough, for now. At least until they arrived upon the armies that besieged Mereen, to engage them in battle.

Silchas sighed. Luckily, Rud was much friendlier than he was and was slowly worming his way into the respect and camaraderie of many capable young warriors, who apparently, didn't mind that their warleader was a bit weird, as long as there would be glory on their path and gold on their wagons at the end. Those warriors would be instrumental in the days to come, when he would need reasonably trustworthy captains to lead the clan into battle. He was not expert enough in cavalry manouvres to do it himself and Rud was even more hopeless on the saddle than he was.

Silchas shook his head, making the bells chime again, but this time he didn't get irritated by it. The noise had been his constant companion for many days now and he almost didn't notice it anymore.
He had slipped easily in the role of warleader, indeed, and even more easily in the role of husband to the queen.

Every day, she rode beside him, posed and proud, and as they rode she taught him the dothraki language and he tried to make her remember that of the Eleint, with tantalising results but not an overall success, despite her burning desire to know.

Every afternoon they mounted on Drogon's back, scouting ahead in search of the queen's outriders, and every time the queen was more frantic and distressed by their absence, worrying about her people, her city, and he would have liked to console her, but he couldn't find the words.

Every night they retired to the warleader's tent and she undid his braid and applied a smelly salve to his reddened and peeling skin where the sun had managed to reach it despite the cloak, her hands gentle and her voice soft as they spoke some more, planning for the day ahead, until there was nothing left to say. Every night they would kiss and, as inevitably as night falls, their kisses would grow into something more, something heated and primal and utterly exhilarating.

It was not love, but it was not even just sex. He could not define it, but he was happy of having it, however temporarily, and he reluctantly admitted to liking to sleep beside her more than it was appropriate. Her skin was soft and she smelled lightly of Eleint and he was sure that it was not just her closeness to Drogon, it was her, purely her, and that in his world she would be Soletaken just as he was and he couldn't help but be enticed by the notion. He liked to wrap his arms around her and hold her close while they drifted to sleep. Skin-to-skin contact was wonderful after so much time when the best he had had was kicking Sheltatha Lore away while the grey bitch tried to drag him back into the Aazth mound.

There was only one thing in which he had never tried to compete with his brother Anomander when they were younger and it was amorous escapades, with reason. His brother was the epitome of Andii beauty and could have, and usually had, all the women he wanted, while he looked fundamentally wrong, more like a Liosan than an Andii, and this put most women off. Maybe not all of them after all, since his own mother had married with the Liosan god Father Light, but things had been much more difficult for him than for his brothers, and yet this time someone had chosen him and he was glad of it…

His queen's voice distracted him from his pleasant if bittersweet considerations, making him startle slightly.
"You were far away again. – she commented when he turned towards her – Still thinking about your people?" she asked sympathetically.
Silchas shook his head under the hood but did not reply. It would sound pathetic if he told her that he had been thinking about her. The queen sighed but didn't pry.
"How about a bit of scouting?" she asked, pointing towards her Eleint, who was circling overhead, cavorting in the thermals.
"By all means." he replied. She had tried to take Rud with her once or twice, but apparently the boy didn't have a head for heights while in his sembled form, which was quite hilarious.
"When I'm veered, I know I will not fall, but I do not like to be at the mercy of someone else while in the air." the boy had protested, crossing his arms over his chest with a petulant expression. Even Drogon had sniggered in his own way and the queen had desisted from taking him with her to scout.

Deep down Silchas was quite glad of it. He had not liked the way the boy had wrapped his arms around her when they were on the Eleint's back or the way she had smiled to Rud, trying to reassure him not to speak of when he had heard her comment sweetly about the peach fuzz that had started to show on the half-human's cheeks. The latter had made his blood boil in his veins and he had had to stamp very hard on the whispers of his cursed blood to keep calm. He knew he had no right to feel possessive, but the urge to thrash the boy quite thoroughly had been undeniable, even if he had not acted upon it.

Shaking his head again, as if to clear such thoughts from his mind, he extended his senses towards the Eleint, contacting his mind.
"Your Mother wants another ride, Drogon. Are you up to it?" he asked. He felt the Eleint's laughter inside his mind, then the hatchling replied. "Always. Are you, White Khal? Or should I call you Pink-spotted Khal?" he provoked, as always, sniggering.
Silchas snorted but let the comment pass unanswered, as it was true that he had acquired a few pink blotches because of the sun, especially on his face and hands. He would not give Drogon the satisfaction of showing irritation at his comments.
"Get your scaly backside down, then." he instructed curtly and the Eleint obediently banked, landing a few hundred paces away from the column. The first few times, the horsewarriors had scattered in panic, but they had grown accustomed to the Eleint's presence by now, even if they still complained about the regular thefts of horses and other cattle.

Silchas and the queen dismounted and approached the Eleint on foot, as horses were understandably wont to shy away and bolt near him. Drogon flattened himself to the ground as much as possible to allow his "mother" to swing herself on his back, then straightened perceptibly, leaving him to fend for himself, as usual. The little bastard was jealous of the relationship between him and his "mother" and lost no occasion to show it, he mused, scrambling on board not quite gracefully and settling himself behind the queen and wrapping an arm around her waist while he grabbed one of the spikes jutting from Drogon's back to brace himself. With a bunching of muscles and a snapping of wings, the Eleint was airborne, climbing steadily higher with great heaves of his wings until he reached a thermal current and could pause, gliding effortlessly.

Silchas felt like laughing, even if he was only a passenger. It was exhilarating and, by the large grin plastered on the queen's face he could see that she was enjoying herself as much as he was. He was suddenly gripped by the impulse to kiss her, but restrained himself. It would be unwise to provoke the Eleint's ire and he remembered how much he had wanted to wipe Draconus off the face of the earth every time he caught him smooching with his mother. No, best to keep his hands and everything else to himself, for now, he decided. There would be always time for that later that night.

"I see riders approaching." the Eleint declared, jarring him out of his train of thought. Silchas looked around, trying to spot them. It was entirely possible that they would still be too far away for him to see: Eleints had a prodigious long-distance vision. He squinted against the sunlight and finally managed to see something in the distance, still as small as ants.
"I've seen them." he confirmed, then let go of the spike, pointing towards the spot.
"Riders, my queen." he told his companion, who whipped her head towards the fast-approaching strangers.
"Gods, let them be my bloodriders." he heard her whisper fervently, leaning forwards as if she could see them better like this.
"White Khal! – the Eleint exclaimed loudly, his mental voice echoing almost painfully in his mind – I know them! Tell Mother! It is Aggo and Rakharo! Tell Mother now!" he declared, the glee evident in his voice.
Silchas acquiesced. "Drogon said it is them, my queen." he said with satisfaction. On the queen's face dawned a smile brighter than the sun and she half-turned and kissed him fiercely, then leaned against him, tears of joy streaming down her face.
"We're going home." she whispered and he held her tight.
Drogon rumbled ominously, but he couldn't care less of his jealously at the moment.

No one could say that Rakharo didn't have faith in his Khaleesi, or rather, no one could say it and live, but he admitted to feel a bit disheartened about the success of their quest by now. Whitebeard had sent them out to find her anyway, but most people in the city believed that she was dead and, after so many days of riding without seeing a single trace of her, Rakharo was starting to believe it as well. The old knight had asked the impossible of them, tracking something that left almost no tracks, but he would not desist. His Khaleesi had not desisted even when everything had seemed so bleak that he had just wanted to curl up and die, had given them a purpose and glory and for that he would search for her to the end of the world, if need be, even if every day of riding lessened his hopes of finding her still alive.

"The horses are tired, Rakharo. – one of his men said – Maybe we should stop and resume our search tomorrow." he proposed, and a few heads bobbed in approval. It was not just the horses, the men were tired as well: Rakharo had set an unforgiving pace and none had complained, but their faith was wavering with every passing day, he knew it.
"There are still a couple of hours before twilight. – he replied – We'll stop then." he declared curtly. The rider shook his head. "We'll end up killing the horses and ourselves by keeping this pace, bloodrider. – he commented sadly – We're many miles away from the city and we have to go back there, eventually."
"I'm not going back until I find her." Rakharo replied, colouring.
"You know that you might never go back, then, do you? – the man insisted – She might be dead." he said, finally voicing what they had been skirting around for the last few days.
"Do not be silly, Roqo. – another rider said – A son can never kill his own mother, it is known." he declared, not totally convinced. Roqo shrugged but didn't reply and silence fell again on the small band of outriders as they cantered through the grasses.

Aggo brought his mount beside Rakharo's and leaned towards him to whisper. "I know it sounds like betrayal, my brother, but we have to consider returning empty-handed. – his blood-brother said – Whitebeard will need us for the defence of the city."
Rakharo didn't reply, keeping his eyes trained on his mount's neck.
"If we couldn't save her, we can always save her children before joining her in the Heavenly Grasslands, brother. Think about it." Aggo suggested wistfully. Rakharo felt his hopes plummet now that even Aggo was doubting of their success, but didn't want to let go. He turned towards his blood-brother with anger in his heart and a scathing reply on his lips, but a startled cry distracted them both.
"Holy Mother of Mountains! – exclaimed one of the youngest riders, a boy of four-and-ten with a bare trace of moustache on his lips but two bells already in his hair, one for Yunkai and one for Mereen – Look to the sky!" he cried, pointing.
The whole band of outriders turned as one.

To northwest there was something in the sky, something that looked like a huge bird, except that the shape was all wrong, the wings much longer and an unmistakable tail whipping lazily in the air.
"The firehorse!" Aggo exclaimed.
Rakharo felt hope dawning again in his heart and, with a wordless cry, spurred his horse savagely, devouring the plain at a gallop. She had to be alive, she had to, and he would see her safely home, even if it cost him his life.
"Rakharo!" he heard Aggo exclaim, then his blood-brother cursed and the rest of the band set out after him. Rakharo didn't even turn to glance at them, eyes fixed on the firehorse, which was becoming bigger and more defined at every passing minute as the distance lessened.

He thought he was deluding himself into seeing something fair and bright on the beast's back, but then the firehorse banked sharply and landed among the grass, a few hundred paces in front of him.
Ralharo sawed on the reins, forcing his mount to stop suddenly, then a tall cloaked figure jumped down from the firehorse's back and, a moment later, another shorter and silver-haired one let herself be helped down by the first one.

The outriders stood still, except for the fidgeting of the horses, awestruck, as the two figures approached and they clearly recognised their lost khaleesi, decked in dothraki clothes.
Rakharo dismounted and lowered himself to his knees, tears of joy filling his eyes, then all his companions followed his suit. She had gone in isolation in the deepest Sea, as in the legends of the first taming, and she had returned, whole and unscathed, the firehorse tamed. Again, Rakharo was aware of having just witnessed something out of a legend.

"Blood of my blood. – the khaleesi said sweetly, tears bathing her face as well – You've travelled far to find me, but fear not. You've found me now and I'll be coming home with you." she declared, while the cloaked person stood silent in the background.
Rakharo was struck completely dumb by the awe of the moment, but Aggo, always more practical than his blood-brother found his voice soon enough.
"We have food and water for you Khaleesi. You must be tired. – he offered – And for your companion too." he added, with a hint of a question in his voice. Everyone was wondering who her companion could be.
"Dear Aggo, blood of my blood, - she said with a smile – thanks for the offer, but there is no need, I am perfectly fine. You look weary, instead, but we are no more than a couple of hours away from Khal Silchas' khalasar, where you can rest." she added gracefully.

Rakharo quirked his eyebrows in surprise and disbelief. He had never heard of any khal with that name, it was not even a dothraki name.
"And who would that khal be? – he asked, his hand sliding to the hilt of his arakh – Why would he give us shelter?" he added, wary.
"Because." the cloaked stranger replied in a quiet, strangely accented voice. Definitely not dothraki, Rakharo mused and turned towards him in disbelief.
"Are you him? Show yourself, then, khal, for only cowards hide their faces." he challenged. Why was his Khaleesi consorting with a foreign khal?
Khal Silchas turned towards their Khaleesi as if to ask permission, and she nodded. The stranger sighed and drew back the hood of his cloak.

"A demon!" Rakharo exclaimed upon seeing his narrow, elongated features, his slanted blood-red eyes and his bone-white skin. He gripped the hilt of his arakh and tensed his muscles, ready to pounce, but the ghastly khal whipped his cloak away and unsheathed two curved swords in less than a heartbeat, which stopped Rakharo in his tracks.
"I am not dothraki, as you can see. – he said somewhat hesitantly as if he had to struggle to find the right words – I have defeated khal Jhaqo and two of his bloodriders in a fair duel. Now I am khal and I will help your khaleesi. Challenge me and I'll kill you." he concluded sternly, bells chiming in his braid.
Their Khaleesi walked towards him and laid a hand on his wiry white arm, as if to calm him, then turned towards her outriders. "Blood of my blood, – she said soothingly – my sun-and-stars, – she added, turning towards the ghastly khal – be calm, there is nothing to fight for, now."
Rakharo's jaw dropped at her words. "Khaleesi, you married him…" he whispered in disbelief.
His Khaleesi nodded.

"We are allies. - the ghastly khal added, sheathing his swords. - I do not demand fealty of you, bloodriders. Your khaleesi commands you and her other children. I command khalasar. We fight together. Allies." he repeated, trying to explain himself.
"Yes, blood of my blood. – the Khaleesi confirmed – Allies. We need their help to relieve Mereen form the siege."
Aggo nodded. "The slavers could never hope to resist the might of the dothraki. – he commented – It is known." Many other voices concurred and Rakharo couldn't help but join in.
"It is known, indeed. – the Khaleesi confirmed – I will need you for this, blood of my blood. It is not time for challenges and enmity. Follow us to the khalasar, there are many things we need to talk about." she instructed.
"Aye, Khaleesi." they replied as one and mounted back in the saddle, while she and the ghastly khal climbed back on the firehorse's back. A clap of huge leathery wings and they were aloft, flying due northwest. The outriders followed the huge shape as it glided effortlessly in the air towards the setting sun. It was amazing, simply unbelievable. His Khaleesi had performed another small miracle and Rakharo felt a renewed faith in her. If she had decided to marry that demon, there must be a damned good reason for it, he decided, pushing his wariness towards the man in a corner of his mind.

In due time they came in sight of great dothraki camp. Some scouts recognised them, they had all been part of Khal Drogo's khalasar once, after all, and greeted them respectfully. Rakharo counted at least two thousand able-bodied warriors and some fierce-looking unblooded boys. He smiled. They were going to rip those ridiculous slavers into pieces, he thought.
It would be good to bring salvation instead of destruction once again.