Author's Note:

I had much fun researching the languages people spoke in Game of Thrones, be it Dothraki language or High Valyrian and so on.

Well, Lelouch is a genius so be prepared to fall on your knees when he uses his intellect.

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Awakening

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With a gasp, he awoke amidst the tumult while feeling the pain from the kick of the slaver. It shook again. He couldn't hold back the bile which rose with vengeance as another tremble caught them. He fell down to his knees as the contents of his stomach exploded out of his mouth.

Pain coursed through his body as the slaver lashed him. He ignored the putrid stench as he curled up in a ball as another lash hit him.

He glanced to the side as a small hand helped him up. What a pathetic display for the Demon Emperor who once told the world to fuck off.

He couldn't understand her whisper, but her expression told him what she meant. Yet, he wasn't optimistic at all. He discarded all his conclusion, but the belief that he was dead. It was his own hell. Being a slave while the girl, Melisandre, was torturing his psyche with her innocence like a true little sister.

He should have seen that coming, after all, the blood of the innocent masses coated his very hands. He sacrificed thousands for his own ambition.

He would never regret the actions he did, but the Geass on his first love, Euphemia. A mistake he could not undo. The guilt plagued him since then.

Perhaps this all was a mirror of his guilt. He could see it. He was a slave to his Geass.

His chain rattled as he pushed the oar forward, pausing a little then pulling it backwards in synchronization with the other rowers. The menial task exhausted him fast enough. His body might seem perfectly fine, but it was his body which never accumulated muscle mass.

His nerves screamed as he continued to push and pull without pause. A boring physical labour for which his body was not made for.

His thoughts went back to the day he opened the gates of hell; an apt metaphor for him as it seemed that this world mirrored his own psyche.

The wooden door opened with a loud creak as he stepped out and froze at the incomprehensible sight. Half naked men who rode on horses were gathering the villagers into a crowd. The threatening moon-shaped, curved blades - resembled the Egyptian Khopesh - herded the poor men, woman and even children.

His sight landed on a dead woman protecting her child not far. His legs trembled, yet he soldiered on.

He heard them yelling and shouting at him. One of them rode to him, waved the blade threatening to him as he pointed to the crowd.

Possible strategy: Use diplomacy. Unfortunately, he couldn't understand the language they spoke.

He instantly discarded the thought of running away. How should he even accomplish that without a vehicle or a horse?

Lelouch obeyed as he walked with the little girl in tow to the crowd.

Who were these riders? If he took their appearance at face value, it would mean this was a primitive region, so primitive in fact that one could shoot a documentary about medieval times.

The goal of these riders would be to pillage the village if he got the setting right. That wasn't an optimistic thought at all. As that would mean raping the fairer sex and killing off all males.

Or... enslaving them all. His hot fury burned in him as the sun took her pleasure to mark his skin red. He could feel his hands clenching into fists, yet he took a deep breath before he could do something very foolish and dumb.

If it would come to a fight, what were his possible assets?

His Geass which he did not know if it could work on them or anyone for that matter.

If he assumed that his body was indeed immortal like his father, he could fight for eternity even after his limbs were cut. After all, even fingers could be used to kill someone, more so when the enemies had no visible armour.

Rallying the fellow villagers was possible, yet difficult as the very visible fear dominated their pale faces. He admitted that he could charm crowds, but this level of fear he never saw in anyone ever which was even beyond him.

Again, too many unknown variables. A strategy built upon these unknowns was bad as the shoddy foundation would easily collapse after the reveal of the variables. He got smacked in the face once he followed a plan without calculating the unknowns. It hurt. He learned through the pain as every Homo Sapien would have.

But first another test for his Geass. He grabbed the arm of a man standing beside him, getting his attention as he was staring at the man. He held eye contact as he said, "Tell me who they are." The man shook his head.

Conclusion: Suicide without his Geass. And he was not sure if he was immortal at all. In other words, he wasn't battle ready at all.

That didn't bode well at all, but perhaps he could at least get the information through old pantomime. He pointed at the riders, trying to get his question across which it did as the man answered curtly, "Dothraki." His voice cracked with fear.

Well, he never signed for a vacation anyway.

How interesting, the other riders referred to the one with the longer braided beard. It could be a primitive way to mark their hierarchy similar to a modern army whose soldiers would have military insignia on the shoulders.

The whispers died away as riders surrounded them. Silence greeted the leader as he shouted something in another language. He motioned with his blade, presumably to follow him.

Lelouch scowled, smoothed it to neutral frown as he grabbed the hand of Melisandre, comforting her with a smile while he squeezed a little. The big brother he could play very well.

He would wait until a better opportunity presented itself. On the other hand, he did not want to wander blindly, so information gathering was his highest priority. The language barrier would be a problem, but he wasn't a genius for nothing. The chains were temporary that he knew, after all, he rose to be the greatest Evil the world had seen with the chains of Charles zi Britannia.

The feat he could easily replicate again.

"Lelouch."

He glanced down at the girl who held his hand with an iron grip, fearing he would vanish into nothingness.

Lelouch could only smile self-deprecating at the whole situation.

"Melisandre." She looked at him with curious eyes. "One." He wriggled the index finger at her and repeated the number.

It took a while and some repetition until she answered confidently, "Mēre."

Fortunately, these primitive savages - what else could it be as they didn't even clothe themselves like civilized humans - ignored them completely.

"Two." He showed her two of his fingers to which she responded with, "Lanta."

Oh well, it would take time to soak up the knowledge of the foreign language, but his genius intellect could compensate for it.

And so they continued to play the numbers game.

"Three." Three of his fingers.

"Hāre."

"Four." Four of his five fingers.

"Izula."

"Five." He showed her his left hand who was free of her grip.

"Tōma."

"Six." He showed her his palm open. "Tōma." Then clenched into a fist and struck his index finger out.

"Bȳre."

"Seven." This time he struck two fingers.

"Sīkuda."

"Eight." He struck three fingers out.

"Jēnqa."

"Nine." Four fingers.

"Vōre."

"Ten." He opened his palm once. "Tōma." Then closed and opened it again.

"Ampa."

For the eleven he got, "Mēre ampā." He jumped to fifteen and she said, reciting it from memory, "Tōma ampā."

He used the same means to get the word for twenty in the foreign language.
Lelouch smirked as he deduced the number system from one to ninety-nine.

He recited one to twenty. After all, one only needed to know one to nine. After that, the tens were formed by prefixing the ēpsa with the numbers from one to nine, replacing the characters a and e explicitly like for example, "Two is Lanta. Twenty is Lantēpsa." It followed the same schema, but of course, the ten was unique with, "Ampa."
Now that he had the tens, he could use that to deduce the rest which made twenty-three, "Hāre lantēpsa." The numbers one to nine would come before the tens place.

Well, ninety-nine was, "Vōre vōrēpsa." But to continue he would need to know the hundred and other numbers over the hundred to get the pattern.

He said to her, "Vōre vōrēpsa. Mēre." She got a confused look, so he repeated it.

She furrowed her brows, probably having difficulties to get the word for a big number. It took some time but she finally answered, "Gār."

If he took the assumption that it followed the same rules, one hundred and one would be, "Gār mēre or Mēre gār mēre." The one hundred and ten would be ampa gār, one hundred and twenty would be gār lantēpsa, one hundred and twenty-five would be gār tōma lantēpsa. Relatively straightforward from his perspective. The hundreds place was indicated by saying the single digits before the gār like that, "Two hundred and thirty-two is Lanta gār lanta hārēpsa."

The rules would be thus: The hundreds place before the ones and at last the tens. Instead of one hundred and twenty-three, it would be one hundred and three twenty.

Interestingly, it resembled the German rules for numbers like for one hundred and twenty-three, in German, it would be einhundertdreiundzwanzig. If he separated them: ein-hundert-drei-zwanzig which would be mēre gār hāre lantēpsa.

Lelouch smirked smugly at her incredulous look at him. He was a genius after all.

He pointed at a woman and said, "Woman." And pointed at the man beside her while saying, "Man." This he repeated with him and Melisandre.

Fortunately, she wasn't so slow as he feared, instead it took her only less than four minutes till she answered, pointing with her small finger at him, "Vala" - Her finger moved to herself - "Abra."

The savages took them all to a camp, he assumed as he could see the huts made out of straws and some individually tents out of animal skins. Many similar savages followed by a gaggle of slaves. These people were slaves. His deduction was based on the body language they emitted to their masters; being totally submissive and having the look of fear. His stomach didn't like that at all. Furthermore, he hated enslavement. He fought against the complete enslavement of the Japanese people by the Holy Empire of Britannia.

With a grim look, he followed the obvious distraught crowd of villagers until the leader halted and was greeted by another savage rider.

"Akkelenak... alle..." He tried to listen to the unfamiliar words, but the rest he could not hear as the voices were lowered to a whisper.

The apparent leader turned to them and shouted, "Dohaeriros." His blade was pointed at them. He glanced at Melisandre whose eyes were wide, too wide. He asked, "Dohaeriros?" Her trembling finger pointed at one of the slaves. Enslavement.

The savage warriors chose some villager, mostly female ones like they were cattle on the market. He squeezed her little soft hand as another warrior had his sights on the girl.

A precarious situation for her. She would be raped by these savages. He could never let that occur.

So what could he do? His mind went into overdrive; his praised intellect analysed the information he gathered up till now.

The culture of these warriors was that of strength obviously. A duel perhaps. A duel for the right of the girl. Even if the chance were slim at best, it was possible. And he took much greater risk in his life.

The problem: How would he challenge them without knowing the language needed for communication?

Wait. They understood a little of the language - the little girl spoke in. Which meant he could communicate, yet his vocabulary was ridiculously low.

Perhaps he could simplify the meaning of duel with the numbers.

He pointed with his finger at the sauntering warrior and said, "Mēre" - then his finger pointed at himself - "Mēre." The warrior halted his stride, looking at him with a queer look.

"Lanta vala," he said, "mēre abra." A duel in other terms: 1 versus 1. Two men for one girl. Classical.

The warrior laughed, getting the attention of other warriors. One of them asked him to which he told them. They all laughed.

Until the warrior who he challenged to a duel, took out his crescent moon-shaped blade and said, "Arakh." He waved the blade and pointed at it. Lelouch understood. The weapon was called Arakh. He didn't have one.

He shook his head. The warrior called out to his friends who crowded around them, struck with curiosity. One of them took his Arakh out and threw it in front of his feet.

Well, at least he had a weapon to fight.

He let go of Melisandre and stepped forward.

As Lelouch crouched, he gripped the handle of the Arakh hard enough for him to feel pain, many thoughts raced in his mind.

How good was his opponent? His eyes wandered to the crowd and seeing obvious betting going on. Many pointed at him which was interesting. He could assume that he had fair odds if some bet on him.

Ah, he was a man of culture, after all, he was a gambler. This time he would gamble on his body. Well, not really. He had a possible strategy in mind.

After all, they were in a desert with enough sand to fill his pockets. Before he stood up, he waved the Arakh in front of him, distracting everyone with his pathetic display while his other hand grabbed a pile of sand.

The first condition was set.

He moved to a position with his back to the sun.

Second condition set.

Such curved blades weren't made for fighting on foot which meant thrusting with it would be foolish, yet unexpected. Although, he had no armour which meant his opponent would only need to slash at him. The shape of the Arakh could also be used to hook.

These characteristics of the weapon could be used to win the duel.

His strategy would be to try to blind his opponent with the side of the blade at first. Then he would use that blind spot to move forward to throw sand into his opponent's eyes. That would get him very close. Of course, the reaction of his opponent would be a wild slash he could already predict.

That would be the third condition.

If he could either dodge it or hook the blade, he would go in for the kill. A punch would disorient his opponent which meant he could unhook the blade and slash at him. But if he could dodge successfully the slash, he could finish the duel in one motion.

A tall order for him who detested physical training and all that. Lelouch seriously contemplated praying to god, but his decision was taken from him as the warrior screamed a great war cry, obviously trying to intimidate him.

Lelouch chuckled a little as he prepared to set his conditions off.

His opponent rushed to no surprise as he already predicted it. With a little turn of his right wrist, the blade was touched by the sun and assailed the eyes of the rushing fool who closed them in reflex. He sprang into motion. Five steps forward. Another five steps before he would be in the range of the Arakh. Another slight turn of his wrist and his opponent halted his rush. Another five steps. Lelouch was in range to slash so also was his opponent.

Before the warrior could get a calculated strike at him, he threw the sand to his eyes, blinding him for his next actions. The wild slash in panic, which he saw coming miles away, yet he, unfortunately, couldn't dodge it as his feet were in a bad position. A dodge would get him killed. Instead, he used his own Arakh to hook it with ease. He punched with as much force as he could muster at his opponent's face, stunning him for a short moment which he used to move his Arakh up. With a great cry, he slashed down, aiming at the vulnerable throat. The fool couldn't block it in time.

The jugular vein was cut, it opened with a deep gash and spurted out the red liquid as the body fell down the ground with a dull noise.

His audience obviously speechless. That was the hardest workout he had since Suzaku forced him to run laps around the school. He smirked at the thought of seeing his friend's face. Suzaku would indeed be very surprised.

The moment of surprise lasted only seconds before all cheered him, be it the savages or the slaves. A barbaric culture who trusted in the strength of arms.

The cheering stopped and the crowd parted like water in front of Mose as another warrior on his horse with others behind, trotted to him. Lelouch could recognize a leader based on his mere presence alone, although the braid helped his deduction.

The taller body of the leader covered the sun. A mere ploy to cower him. He held the stare, not in the slightest intimidated after all he destroyed a world. In this primitive culture, cowards would be disdained and with such in mind, he prepared for a long stare, ignoring the itch to blink.

The apparent leader nodded at him, perhaps in respect or acknowledgement, he did not know.

"Najahak!" Another rouse of cheer. Surely, it meant winner in the language of the Dothraki as it seemed that all the warriors understood the spoken word.

"Ao vīlībagon sȳrī." Lelouch couldn't make much headway as his knowledge was limited at best, however, he deduced that it was a high praise from this leader. His mind went to analyse the sentence. Ao was a pronoun, that much he knew. In this case, he was addressed. Sȳrī was something like well or good. That would mean: You vīlībagon well.

It was clear as the sky with the context. The sentence was translated to: You fought well.

Lelouch bowed his head, acknowledging the high praise like a proper samurai, he imagined, would do.

"Ao issi hen layak ānogar." Again, the singular pronoun: you. Issi would be the predicate in this sentence. If he was told true, the word hen would be a preposition while ānogar meant blood.

You issi hen layak ānogar. You issi hen layak blood. You issi from/of layak blood. You are from/of layak blood.

The word layak - from the Dothraki language - would mean fighter in this context.

The sentence would roughly translate to: You are of fighter's blood. A statement of observation or something more.

"Layak!" The Dothraki leader yelled out. His men followed suit, chanting the word. The noise grated on his ears and got his pride to eat the delicious praise from the warrior caste. It got his blood pumping at least.

The leader held the Arakh up, silencing the crowd as he said, "Ao issi issa layak." You are my fighter. An invitation to his band of savages.

Lelouch raised his voice a little as he asked, "Riñītsos?" He pointed at Melisandre with the blade.

"Aōhon." The girl was his.

He agreed. "Nyke aōha layak." Nyke was the first person singular pronoun. The word aōha was derived from ao. Translation: I am your fighter.

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His butt didn't like the uncomfortable ride on the willful horse he had. Unfortunately, he was a Dothraki; a horse rider. Only slaves walked on foot. That was the basis of the Dothraki culture - trying too hard to be Mongols.

It did give him much leeway in the possession of slaves like the little girl, Melisandre. At least, she was safe from harm. He detested slavery as it reminded him too much of Britannia.

Another battle against a Khal - the Dothraki warlord - who outnumbered their little war party.
He tried to convince the Khal of this foolishness but was rebuffed and called a filkak; the greatest insult one could get. He sneered at them. Cowardism, it wasn't as if they would face a horde two times greater theirs. Of course, Lelouch could easily mop the floor with the enemy horde if his advice wouldn't be ignored by the Khal.

Morons. These savages were all idiots of the highest order. They all thought the greater they cry, the stronger the horde would be. What a fool.

His Khal shouted, "Vīlībagon!" Fight. Yes, fight all to the death, fools.

Instead of following the Khal into charging uselessly the enemy, he turned back and rode to where the camp was.

The slaves saw him riding to them, obviously confused while others paled considerably. Either, he deserted or the battle was lost. He already predicted that the Khal would lose the battle, so both would be true.

"Melisandre!" The mentioned little girl ran to him. He gave her his right hand which she grabbed as he pulled her up. She was a clever girl who could guess what happened.

He rode until the night broke. As he prepared the campfire, he heard a suspicious noise behind him, getting him very tense. He pulled his Arakh out as he closed on Melisandre who was fearing the noises.

Lelouch saw them. Armed men. Bandits or slavers, he didn't know. A bad situation ahead. He couldn't fight his way out. Too many and his skills weren't that great at all, he wasn't a Suzaku.

Damn.

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The weather calmed down as a command was shouted out. He stopped rowing as others did the same, catching a break. He glanced to the left and saw how exhausted Melisandre was. His breathing was a little shallow, but his time in the Dothraki horde helped him immensely.

"You there! The girl! Come!" Lelouch saw the look the slaver gave Melisandre; it flipped his stomach. His fingers gripped the oar hard enough for his nails to bore in it. He should have expected this situation.

What could he do without a weapon? Pretty much actually.

If he could rush the slaver, he could overwhelm him. After that, he would need to initiate a slave revolt which would be very well in his bag of tricks. He was the man who broke the Japenese resistance and moulded them into his Black Knights.

As Melisandre stood up, glancing at him with a look of dismay, he also stood up. He wasted no time to rush the slaver who didn't expect that.

Both of them crashed into the ground. He punched the slaver as he tried to pry the sword out of his hand. A mistake as the slaver just used a hidden dagger to stab him.

His body gave way and slumped down. He felt the hands of Melisandre, shaking him. Yet everything was blurry.

"Come little slut!" He heard her cries.

Lelouch gasped as he felt his body again. His eyes landed on the slaver who grabbed hold onto Melisandre's hair. He stood slowly up, terrifying the slaver who trembled as he tried to step backwards.

He lunged at the slaver and bit off his neck. He spat the disgusting piece of meat out while the slaver fell down and bled to death.

His fellow slavers were watching. One of them, a woman, stood up and yelled, "Azor Ahai!" Others chants followed.

Who the hell was Azor Ahai?!

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Author's Note:

I hope as ever I did the character of Lelouch justice. And I also hope you weren't confused at all what with the vocabulary of High Valyrian. There are of course some online translator, but I used the official wiki more for understanding the structure etcetera.