A/N I want to sincerely thank anyone that has read, followed, favorited, and commented on Sothoryos. I'm copying something I saw from someone on here that made a lot of sense to me. The reason I enjoy doing this is because I'm passionate about what I'm doing, but the reason it is easy to do is because of the follows and feedback that help drive me to keep writing.

This is my first time writing fanfiction. I've written things before, but only for myself, so having this forum to share with like minded people is a refreshing respite from my real world devoid of anyone intellectual or geeky enough to share this with. My sincerest thanks go to Awkane, Zoom99, Felon GT, Tom-Borr, Serrae, red2016, and even Dickwadd. And let's be honest, what else could I expect from someone named dickwadd other than some trolling about the dog trope. Yes it is tired, but to be fair, the character is meant to mirror Jon in many ways (Lem being one of them) and its a hahkyeen, not a dog. But even so, thank you, thank you, thank you for even reading that far. Feedback from you all is the most valuable thing to me. I care most about how someone reading perceives this story and what thoughts it provokes. Thank you. Enjoy the home stretch.

26

In the culture of the Brindled Men, the Dragon Kings of Old Valyria are held in high esteem, featured heavily in the oral traditions. Stories with Dragon Kings as either the heroes or villains passed down from generation to generation as favorites of Brindled Children. The silver haired, purple eyed, pink skinned men stood out as the only warriors in the known world strong and powerful enough to defeat a Brindled Warrior in single combat. To hear Nahknani tell it, her favorite stories were about the Brindled Men who defeated the Dragon Kings on Basilisk Point, destroying the stronghold they had built and chasing them back into the sea. The Dragon Kings eventually won back the lands, only to then lose them again to plague, but the point of her story was to explain her people's reverence for men of his kind. Valyrians.

None of the common people in Nahknani's village spoke Valyrian. It seemed some didn't speak much at all, but they all knew the stories, he was told, and Aegon embodied all the characteristics of the heroes of old. None of them had ever seen JaHahn's guard ever challenged, let alone beaten. The community of all women and children had even been led to believe they had yet to lose a battle, returning triumphantly to receive their promised reward. For all transactions, there is payment. For a smaller warrior, one pink man, to have killed not only one, but seven of their unbeatable captors, what else were they to believe? To them, the man who stood before them came straight from the tales, delivering justice only fiction provided. He was Drahkness Kahn.

Nahknani's father stayed in his tent, more likely craven than oblivious. Still, thought Aegon, there will be swift retaliation. Nahknani said it before, "They'll surely be back."

Aegon waded through the adoring crowd to the tent, politely accepting the praise he received in their tongue, though he couldn't begin to understand a word of it other than the general message of gratitude. Their looks made him uncomfortable though he kept his face from showing it. As he once thought in the forest, he couldn't be these people's savior, he wasn't that. For all the glory in his kills, he stabbed them from behind fighting with steel against their sticks. He wasn't those heroes from the tales wielding Valyrian Steel on dragonback, armed with sorcery and dark magic as if the dragons alone weren't enough. When JaHahn came back with more of JaHarle's men, they wouldn't be caught from behind and if they wanted to risk losing it, they could match his steel with their own. With his only weapon a dirk, a hahkyeen instead of a dragon, and no magic but his resistance to flames, the returning warriors, no matter how green, would easily slaughter him.

He wasn't a savior, but he was an example. His actions showed the people what was possible. They had a choice, unlike their leader believed. The choice could mean death, it would almost certainly lead to some, but it was their only way to truly live. They look to me for answers now. They must all know what JaHarle will order. What. . . who he will take. But they see me as a God, they put their trust blindly in a stranger.

The responsibility of this clan fell on his shoulders. A new crew for me to fail. Gods help me steer this ship better than the last. He reached the tent. Niistrihk's severed head rolled in front of the entrance flap in the commotion. Aegon kicked it aside and entered, Nahknani following closely behind. Lem, who followed Nahknani when they split up as he predicted, sat outside the tent, listening more quickly to Nahknani's commands then the man who had taught him to stay. Just like Lem. Only focused on females, regardless of species.

Meditating again, or in a meditative posture, the Brindled Man's back was to them as they entered. "From the sounds out there a great victory has been won. Who defeated who and for what?" He adjusted his seat, turning toward them and returning to his cross-legged position. The expression on his face looked as if he already knew the answer.

Nahknani answered in Valyrian, "Aegon defeated the guards."

His stoic face remained unchanged. "You killed them? You killed them all?" He looked at Aegon as he spoke. The fire in his eyes had rekindled in his growing fury toward the outsider.

"All but one, father." Nahknani replied. Her father's gaze remained on Aegon.

"And which one did you happen to spare?"

"JaHahn. He ran when he saw the first six fall. He left it to Niistrihk and fled." His face saddened and turned to his daughter.

"I don't know if that is for the better or worse. Good that his son still lives. JaHarle would never forgive the loss of any more of his kin. Maybe worse that he is the one to tell him of his failure. JaHarle has other sons. Worse sons," he unwrapped his legs to stand. "You look so proud daughter. Do you know what you have sentenced us to?"

"She was no part of it. I told her to turn away. None of the guard, nor JaHahn himself saw her. I can assure you."

"I want none of your assurances, boy." He hissed. His tone wet with vitriol. "Your actions may be celebrated now, but come the morrow, or the next day, when JaHahn arrives to retaliate, those men will neither know nor care of the circumstances or specifics of the deaths. They will only want retribution and compensation. You have incurred a debt you have no intentions of paying, and whether they know of my daughter's involvement or not, she will be the one to suffer this."

"Father," Nahknani said, breaking into the warming confrontation brewing within the tent, "you speak as if we have not already suffered. Will the retribution be any different than the way our people currently live? This man risked life and limb many times over to help our people. He originally confronted Ootrahk to alert he and his warriors of the impending treachery the slavers planned to dish out. Then, knowing our clan might also be affected, he raced through the jungle and through the river to get here." Under the river he thought.

Her father's eyes seemed to soften, though his voice remained gruff, "Nani, our people have lived this way in the shadow of a group much larger, much stronger than we are. We suffer through to ensure the survival of our people."

"Does he still have your wife? JaHarle. He must have your wife for you to have been so obedient all these years." Aegon spoke with the full understanding of the flame he ignited. It is better he become angry. He should be enraged. That would help him realize that this is the better course.

When he turned back to address Aegon, his eyes were full of rage, his face seething, his teeth bared, "Mention my wife again and I will rip your head from your shoulders!"

"Father," she whimpered, "is it true?"

The rage subsided and his posture folded. He turned to his daughter, his eyes now sorrowful, and opened his mouth to speak. His jaw hung there for a long moment, the silence in the tent palpable. He closed his mouth, ducked his head down in shame and softly replied, "Yes."

He looked back up to see her face change. It was as if she melted back into the young girl she was when she had first found her missing. A child's mother is not some trinket to be lost and forgotten with the passing of time. A child's mother, regardless of race, is a piece of them no matter the distance or reason for separation. That still sore wound in her heart opened up as Aegon could see the expression on her face reflect the emotions building inside her. The pauses became pregnant with the raw emotions welling in the savage faces of the Brindled Man and Woman as the realization of why all this was happening came to Nahknani. Her father was a pawn, controlled by 'Old Yarl', and her entire life had been the lie she had never opened her eyes enough to truly see. Her betrothal was a formal coup, allowed only because of the captives JaHarle held. One captive in particular. And Aegon guessed she would also realize the truth in the story of her uncle. A man, now that she knew the truth, she would empathize with much more willingly than the craven thrall who helped birth her.

His tone defeated, he spoke softly, as if only to his daughter, but in Valyrian, "Do you know the truth of your uncle and his warriors?"

"Yes. Aegon spoke with Ootrahk. He told him what was done."

"When he crossed to save his family, our family, he killed JaHarle's mother. She was a savage and wicked creature, caught in the middle of flaying your aunt when Ootrahk came upon them with his maul. So full of rage and blood lust my brother was that he couldn't have known to spare any involved, so he slaughtered them all, savagely. As is our way."

He continued, "When JaHarle came to punish us, citing the crossing of the river, the butchering of his people, his offering was to take you as his hostage. Your mother forbade it. She would not allow you to be held by that monster, so she took your place. There was little else we could do but start a war. So we let him punish your uncle and banish the remaining men. Your mother has been his hostage since. Only JaHarle and Great Chahka know if she still lives or in what condition, though he still dangles her life as a threat whenever he deems it useful."

"Why would you not fight? Why would you not get her back?" Asked Aegon, inciting more anger in the eyes of her father.

The man turned to Aegon. He still didn't know his name. "Ootrahk told you what was done to his wife and daughter, yes?"

"Yes."

"That is why I stay silent. That is why I allow this treatment. Better to have a daughter alive than to have freedom and death. Even with our warriors, JaHarle has the numbers. He has the steel. He has the high ground. If I defied him, all of our people, ALL, would die at his hands. That is not something I am willing to sacrifice."

There was a truth in the man's wisdom. An old warrior's paradox. Is it better to die with valor or to live in the shame of cowardice? Is it more noble to risk one's pride for the lives of his people, or to risk his people's lives for freedom? Aegon knew where he stood. He knew what he had done. He sacrificed the lives of his entire crew in pursuit of vanity and glory. Knowing the outcome, he knew he'd choose differently now; opting to go back to Westeros instead of continuing on to Asshai. But as the people of Nahknani's clan chanted his moniker, the new assumed captain of this crew, would he once again chance the lives of those who trusted him? Would he make the same mistake twice? Or was 'the right thing to do', a sentiment new to the Brindled Men, to have let them live the way they had before? He wasn't sure. But it was too late to turn back what he'd done, and the wheels of their new rebellion were already too far in motion to stop.

"Do you hear them, father?" She asked, "They seem like they might be."

"They cheer for a Valyrian they think a God who has come to deliver them. None believe they are in danger. The Valyrian killed seven already, why not the entire host? Listen to the crowd, Nani, and you will become one of them. The rabble from the masses is as stalwart as a long blade of grass. Any slight breeze will make the grass sway. These people are no different."

"But if they knew the truth of their situation," Aegon replied, "the truth of Ootrahk's exile. The truth of your wife's captivity. The truth of the price they've paid time and time again, I believe more would risk their lives. More than you might imagine. I know I would"

"He has, father." She reached out and touched his shoulder, "As will I. We must join uncle's clan and stand against these foes, for better or worse. We are strong enough, father. I am strong enough."

Any father might have burst with pride put in the same place as this Brindled Man. The daughter he had raised in the absence of her mother seemed every bit the ideal woman, at least in a culture like this one. Strong, resilient, cunning, brave, caring, and even beautiful, the woman standing before him, challenging his wisdom, was everything one hoped a daughter, or son for that matter, could blossom into. But as proud as he must have been to hear his daughter's honor, his face still showed the hidden horror knowing what could happen to her now that she had grown into a woman of such beliefs. She could easily be killed, tortured, or worse, and his reluctance to side with her was fueled by a selfish need to keep her safe. To keep his wife safe as well.

"Your uncle has been taken. He and the warriors still living will be sold at the flesh markets by the slavers. After their attack on his camp, their leader, a Zlatan zo Xuxus, came here to meet with JaHarle and myself to discuss the rest of his campaign. There was talk of the slavers taking Ootrahk's men back to Astapor and Yunkaii. There was also talk of the Valyrian in the jungle causing trouble. Ootrahk warned of a purple eyed dragon. The man Zlatan seems to have known you."

Aegon was surprised. He knew of Zlatan, as many were. He was renowned for his cruelty and brutality. But how could Zlatan know of him?

Aegon replied back, "If Ootrahk and his men were taken, they will be boarded onto ships and brought to Essos. Did they say how soon they would be leaving?"

"Within the moon's turn. They wanted to be loaded with fresh supplies from JaHarle's clan and they will depart shortly thereafter."

"So there is still time before they have left?"

"There is some, yes. But JaHarle and JaHahn will strike back quickly. Even if we were to free Ootrahk and his men, we would still be outnumbered as little as five to one, or as many as one hundred to one. There is no way to fight them."

"Not without steel, sure, and not head on." He looked around the tent, it seemed portable. "And not here. If later questioned, if we were to fail, say you fled to survive the flames, but we cannot stay here."

"What do you propose we do?" Nahknani asked.

Thinking it through, He already decided how staying and fighting would go. For an absolute certainty the Brindled Men that returned would cut him down and kill him and all that stood with him. It was more of a question whether that decision would lead to a quick warrior's death, or a slow and tortured one. It was also inevitably lead to Nahknani and the rest of her people suffering even worse than they were now. Unimaginably worse. So the options he was deliberating never included a plan to stay. He, Nahknani, and every one of these people needed to move, and quickly. Whatever retaliation would be as swift as it was merciless.

They also couldn't run forever. The victory he had just won was only the first cinder in the brush of a conflict now fully ablaze. Eventually, the result would be either a battle or extreme concession by their clan. Maybe they could get away with playing dumb, saying they ran from the flames as he suggested before, but the only way JaHarle would believe a tale like that, would require the clan to turn him in proactively, as if they hunted him down. The clan might be spared, but for obvious reasons, he felt he could keep that option as the last resort. Save self-sacrifice, he needed the captive warriors to ever stand a chance in battle, even if he did manage to think of a cunning way confront his foes.

As he continued to ponder, needing both to move and to free Ootrahk and his warriors, the beginnings of what some might consider a plan passed through his head. "Easier to fight and defeat slavers than Brindled Men," he said, acknowledging both father and daughter. "Not all the women here are helpless. If we move quickly to where they're holding Ootrahk and take the slavers unawares, we can not only free your uncle and the warriors, but commandeer some steel and a boat or two as well. Surely some of these women can fight if need be."

The Brindled Man sullenly nodded and replied, "If their lives depended on it, yes."

"Their lives depend on it, of that I'm sure," said Aegon.

"I will summon the best fighters and archers among us. Father, do you know where they would be camped?" Nahknani said with appropriate urgency.

"Yes."

"Well you will tell me where, then take the rest of our people to safety," she ordered as if she was assuming leadership. "Pack up as little as necessary. It needs to look like we abandoned the village to avoid the fire, not that we are running away from retaliation. Do we still have our cache of bows and arrows hidden?"

"Yes. Under the bliss rock."

"Good. We will need them. I will take my girls. If we are captured or fail in our attempt, you can say we acted on our own, against your will and save the people." She nodded to the both of them, then glared at her father curtly for a moment, only to revert back to the childish grin Aegon had become accustomed to. "It is for the best father. If now I know the truth of it, how could we not fight?"

"Because we will die, daughter. Because your mother will die."

"If what you say of JaHarle is true, she has been dead for a while now or wishes it for herself. I promise you, if there is a way to save her, we will, but she gave herself up for me long ago, and if needs be, I must make the same sacrifice for you all now. And that's only if we fail, which we won't. You know I never lose, and we have Drahkness Kahn."

He smirked only for a flash, until she said Drahkness Kahn. He shuddered at the words, then reluctantly nodded in approval to her plans. She left the tent with a quick glance to Aegon as if to say, "Good luck," knowing he lingered to have more words with her father. Then it was just the two of them.

His eyes rekindled and were once again fully ablaze. Aegon meant no offense to the elder, but felt an obligation to the people to ensure the man wouldn't betray he and Nahknani as soon as they set off on their mission. "You cannot turn back now. Do not think betraying me is any different from betraying your daughter and your people. If you run back to JaHarle, he will have no mercy for Nahknani. We can trust that you will lead the people to safety and not back into the hands of our foe, yes?"

"You speak as if you are anything more than a killer. You are no hero. You have only done irreparable harm. No. I will not reveal your plans to our foe, but that still does not ensure you will leave the beach victorious. You walk into the Harpy's nest with little chance to win, and my daughter's life dangles in the balance." He stopped and took in a breath trying to relax his face. He forced his twisted expression into a calm stoic gaze once again and sighed. "She trusts you. She admires your courage and strength. She loves you, it seems. For her sake, and the sake of our people, I hope that she is not with child."

"Ser, no," Aegon's face flushed red. He did not even think to consider his anger stemmed from his assumption of a physical relationship blossoming between the two. "I have not and will not dishonor your daughter. I have no intentions other than to do what is right. I apologize for killing the guards. If I knew the extent of it, I would have never risked coming here. My intention was to warn your people, not put them into further harm. Please forgive me." Aegon still didn't know the man's name. "We have still yet to be properly introduced. I come before you as no one really; a vagabond lost in a strange land with no earthly possessions or wealth other than what I carry with me. Where I'm from, my birth and lineage would fashion me a noble, royal even, but those in power cast me out as an infant, forcing me into the life a commoner. My father died in battle. My mother was taken by a fever, and as a young boy, I was forced to fend for myself, jumping aboard a merchant galley and assuming the life of a harbor rat. I do not come to your land to seek power nor do I seek anything else, your daughter's virtue included. I do not come as your savior or conquering king. My name is Aegon Velaryon, and I come to you as I am. I am but a man, humbled by destiny, following a path I believe to be true. My intentions are honest. My goal is but to save those from wrong. I heard of these slavers' plans and thought nothing more of them. But destiny brought me back to these lands, brought me to that tree to save your daughter. I am an outsider, yes, but after hearing your story, I identify with you more than you know. You are being oppressed, which I cannot ignore, and your people are suffering, which I cannot allow. I am here for a reason and I believe it is to help you and your people as much as I can. I apologize again for what I have already done. But I will not concede that what I am about to do is wrong. I do not seek your approval, but I will earn your respect. By the Old Gods and the new . . . and whatever you pray to, I promise you, if her life is in danger and the mission is lost, I will have her turn me in to JaHahn as a prisoner to ensure your people's safety. On my honor, I swear this solemn vow."

Some of the Valyrian he spoke he knew wasn't right. Some might pass right over the head of someone who had never been to Westeros, but he felt the vow he took was the right thing to do. For he was leaving this village in turmoil after arriving only mere moments ago, with a fighting force of women and the daughter of their leader, to lead an attack against a much stronger foe. It sounded like insanity to think of it in one sentence, but he knew it was right to try, and right to give himself up if it meant saving these people.

The Brindled Man smiled. His lips stretched across his face in almost the exact same way as his daughter's. "I thought you would never stop talking, Aegon Velaryon. Slayer of Brindled Men, Valyrian of the Jungle, Drahkness Kahn." He reached out his hand, extending his arm towards Aegon as if to offer the greeting gesture of their culture. "I am called Ootrihk. I am but a man who was like you, but now, eroded by fear, a craven shell of what I once was. I have thought to do what you've done on more than one occasion, but this means war. I do not know if we can survive this, but as you said, destiny has brought us here. There is no turning back. I accept your vow. Though I hope you never have to follow through. I have cowered in fear and shame for long enough. The day he punished my brother was the last time I felt alive. I died when my wife was taken, my niece murdered, and my brother exiled. I too thought I was doing 'what was right' saving the rest of my people. But it is never enough. JaHarle continued to take and take until I had nothing left to give but my own people." Sadness spread through the room as both Aegon and Ootrihk heard the words. They must have finally resonated in Ootrihk's ears for the first time. His sins only now becoming real finally admitting to himself who he had become. "Go. Win. Give us our men back, steel, and boats. Will we take this fight until either they are defeated, or we are dead. I am done with fear." His shoulders slacked, as if weight he was carrying had fallen off. Relief relaxed his face. "I'm glad you forced me into this. It was the fear of the decision. The choice. You have made it for us. I am not afraid to die."

With any luck, it won't have to come to that, but if I were so lucky, I wouldn't be on this island or in this war.