AN: The chapter begins on the same day as Chapter 11, then goes into the next day.
In an area of grass surrounded by ridges on three sides, a Dothraki woman clutched the knife in her hands.
There may be no way to escape or to prevail… Irri, a handmaiden of Daenerys Targaryen, thought. But I will let them have no pleasure from my body.
About a dozen other Dothraki were nearby, along with their horses. One of them stood and drew back the string of a bow.
"Come, you sons of hyenas!" shouted Rakharo, a bloodrider to the same khaleesi as Irri. "You will find no easy kills here!"
The others raised their arakhs and shouted similar taunts. The men had a similar goal in mind to Irri, though theirs involved slaying as many foes as possible before perishing.
We'd heard the khaleesi has returned, and we are mere days from returning as well… but that is no longer possible.
The time has come for us to join the Great Stallion, and ride with him across the nightlands for eternity.
Other Dothraki approached from all sides. They weren't fools, using ridges in the terrain or thick vegetation as cover. But as soon as Rakharo loosed his arrow, they would start charging in. They'd shoot with their own bows, forcing Irri's little group to take cover, and using that opportunity, they'd close to arakh-range.
If we had more bows with us, we could fight for longer… but only a little longer. Their numbers are too great.
It might be faster to die to their arrows, rather than open my throat with this knife…
Irri was among the many Dothraki who'd left Meereen in search of the missing Khaleesi Daenerys. Later, she was one of the ones lucky enough to be visited by Daenerys and a very much changed Drogon, along with a similarly changed Rhaegal and… something else.
It was hard to believe what happened… but the khaleesi had done many seemingly impossible things already, like the return of the dragons to this world.
It's a shame we won't live to see her conquest of the Sunset Kingdoms.
Irri had begun making her way back to Meereen. She'd met up with other Dothraki bands along the way… including survivors of clashes with the khalasar of Khal Jhaqo. And soon enough, Jhaqo's riders found Irri's group as well.
While still clutching her knife, Irri glanced at the weapons of the male Dothraki with her. Even if she had the weak body of a woman, she still liked the idea of taking a foe with her as she died. Perhaps she could pick up an arakh from a fallen warrior, then use it on a foe currently distracted by someone else.
Speaking of which, the enemy Dothraki drew closer and closer. A couple were bold enough to try taking shots at Irri's group. Their arrows fell short, but not by much.
Eventually, Rakharo loosed his arrow. His target was a man partially concealed by a low-growing shrub, but that didn't stop Rakharo's arrow from finding its mark in his shoulder. The enemy fell off his horse while screaming.
The other Dothraki kicked their horses into a gallop. They screamed their battle cries as they closed in on Irri's group.
Irri and her companions mounted their horses, which had previously been kneeling to keep them behind cover. Warriors on foot stood no chance against warriors on horseback, that was the core of Dothraki warfare.
Rakharo managed to get another arrow to his bow in time. But instead of shooting that as well, he stared at the southern horizon.
"Wait… that's!"
To the south was a black winged shape. The uninitiated might mistake it for a mere bird, perhaps a vulture who'd followed the enemy Dothraki here expecting a meal. But Irri had seen that sight before.
A ferocious roar rang out across the grassy landscape. The enemy Dothraki's horses panicked, some even throwing their riders. The horses of Irri's group neighed uncertainly, with Irri herself having to put a reassuring hand on her mount's neck, but none reacted nearly as severely.
In a matter of seconds, Drogon closed the distance. The black dragon flew past the enemies on one side while breathing fire. Both men and horses and alike screamed as flames dark as night consumed their flesh.
Irri also glimpsed someone being carried by Drogon's feet. He flew past too quickly for her to be certain, but—it was someone who should not be present.
That didn't change the fact that more enemies were still present. The male Dothraki of Irri's group charged at the Dothraki to the north, whose horses were still panicking. The curved blades of arakhs sliced through flesh and bone, changing the grass below from green to red.
Irri herself managed a kill. She found the Dothraki who'd initially been shot by Rakharo and trampled him beneath her horse's hooves. The man looked up at her as he died, his black eyes showing both pain and indignation.
Perhaps he's wondering if a man killed by a woman is unworthy of meeting the Great Stallion… well, he'll soon learn the answer to that.
Soon, all of the enemy Dothraki, numbering over fifty, were reduced to corpses on the ground. Additionally, the man who Drogon had been carrying was now walking on the same ground with his own feet. This proved Irri's earlier suspicion.
"Jorah the Andal…" Rakharo said, not lowering his arakh. "The khaleesi exiled you for your treachery."
"And she has taken me back into her service," Jorah replied. His Dothraki was, as always, unusually fluent for a man born to different gods. "Otherwise, she would not have sent me out here with one of her daughters."
That brought everyone's attention to Drogon. The black dragon was no longer nude, as she'd been the last time Irri had seen her. Instead, she wore clothing similar to that of Irri and the other Dothraki. Additionally, her nose was no longer crooked and in place of her three once-missing teeth, she had the tips of new teeth poking up through gums.
"Jow-rah—Jorah be trusted," Drogon said. "Mother did take him back."
Some of Irri's companions murmured at this. While they had heard of recent events from others, this was their first time seeing an altered dragon.
Irri herself was also surprised. In their previous encounter, Drogon's Dothraki had been clumsy and filled with non-Dothraki words. The dragon had improved quite a lot in these past few days.
"We've been sent not just to help you return to Meereen, but also to destroy the nearby khalasar if it's hostile," Jorah continued. "From what just happened, I think it's safe to assume it is."
"Correct, Jorah the Andal," Irri said. "Those killed just now, they are of Khal Jhaqo's khalasar."
"Jhaqo…" Jorah's eyes narrowed. "He once served Drogo, I recall."
Another man stepped forward. He was named Hallo and he was one of the ones who'd survived an attack from Jhaqo's riders.
"I ran into them before, heard them speak of their plans. They plan to attack the khaleesi's city, reduce it to ash, kill and enslave the people."
Drogon snorted. "How? Dragons could, but horses couldn't. Can't fly, can't make fire, weak."
That caused the horses of Irri's group to whinny and stamp their feet. They might not have the intelligence of humans—or dragons, now—but they would still know some of the Dothraki tongue thanks to their training, seemingly enough to feel offended by this blunt dismissal.
"Perhaps they plan to pillage the surrounding countryside, cutting off all supply to the city?" Jorah suggested. "Then we would either starve or be forced to meet them in open combat, which they expect to win."
"But they cannot win," Irri said. "Not against the Mother of Dragons, and her children."
Drogon puffed up a little at these words.
"Then it is time to put our own plan into practice," Jorah said. "Drogo."
The black dragon took off. With a few dozen wingbeats, she was so high in the sky as to become a mere speck.
"You'll want to cover your ears, and your horses' ears," Jorah warned. "Else you'll lose your ability to hear, most like."
Irri and the other Dothraki did as instructed.
A few seconds later, Drogon began to bellow, so loudly that Irri heard every word even with her muffled ears, so loudly that her horse reared in surprise.
"JHAQO! COME TO ME, YOU COWARD! ARE YOU A MAN, OR ARE YOU A BOY STILL SUCKING ON HIS MOTHER'S TEAT!? COME AND PROVE YOU DESERVE TO BE KHAL!"
Irri felt her heart race at these words. She was reminded of tales her mother had taught her when she was young, tales of great Dothraki heroes with even greater voices, ones that let them even challenge foes from across the vast distance of the poison water.
So loud… even people on the other end of the Dothraki Sea might have heard it!
Drogon landed soon after. The horses, despite being accustomed to dragons, now began shying away from her.
"Did I…" the dragon flicked her tail with what seemed like nervousness. "Did I say it right?"
"Yes, you did, Drogon," Jorah said. "Daenerys would be proud of you."
Irri was amazed. Drogon had been the most defiant of the dragons from the moment of her hatching. By the khaleesi's account, Drogon had still been defiant even after her transformation, and that happened merely four days ago.
"You have… changed greatly, Drogon," Rakharo said.
Drogon's cheeks reddened. "Yes… yes. I… make mistakes. Can't make them again."
"It will take some time for Jhaqo to arrive," Jorah said. "If we're to be talking about the past, we may as well use this time to rest."
They sat down together and began eating—not too much, as that would slow them down, just enough to have energy for the imminent conformation.
The Dothraki had brought rations with them when they'd left Meereen. Some also had meat or wild vegetables that they'd obtained out in the Dothraki Sea. Jorah had similarly brought along rations in a pack worn on his back. Drogon roasted one of the dead horses, then tore out a large chunk of meat.
Leaving the other for us? That's… much more gracious than before, when she'd defend her food from all others, including her siblings.
Irri paid attention to the way Drogon ate. Drogon had no hands, but each of her wings included a small claw resembling a human's thumb. She could use these claws against the rest of her wings to grasp objects. Technically, she and other dragons did use their wings like this before, but this was Irri's first time seeing a dragon not use their mouth too when grasping something.
Yet she still needs more experience, Irri thought as she watched Drogon drop the chunk of horseflesh, then pick it up again.
After a period of eating, Drogon spoke again.
"Even now, I remember… being wild. Remember everything. Last night, remembered biting Irri."
Irri flinched at that. She rubbed the palm of her right hand, which still had faint lines left by a young dragon's teeth.
"That… does not matter anymore," Irri said with the tone used towards a young child—ironic when Drogon was bigger than not just her, but all of the men present.
"Still, I… not right," Drogon said awkwardly. "Mother said I should… I should say… I'm sorry. Not right to bite you."
The Dothraki began murmuring again. Some of them rubbed their eyes, apparently trying to work out if this was a dream or reality.
Dragons are fire made flesh, as fickle and destructive as fire itself. I thought that was basic knowledge… It seems I need to learn all over again.
"I was just as surprised, when I saw this," Jorah said. He took a drink from a waterskin—containing alcohol, judging from the smell. "Are you willing to say more than that, Drogon? It's alright if you don't."
"No, I… I mean, yes," Drogon said. "I remember everything. Also remember… hunting a human, a… hatchling. No, not right word… child."
Irri had heard of this incident, even if she hadn't personally seen the shepherd who brought in charred bones. She could easily imagine that happening once Drogon had grown big.
"And then there was… the pit. Dazak's Pit."
"Daznak's Pit," Jorah corrected.
"Daznak's. Um… hard to say how I felt… there was noise, and blood… fresh blood, and fresh meat…" Drogon eyed the half-eaten mutton before her. "Just thought, good place to hunt… also smelled Mother too… but then prey, what I thought prey, started fighting back…" She pressed a wing against the back of her neck. "I fought back, killed more prey, flew away with Mother… Only heard later, had killed hundreds."
There was deep regret in Drogon's voice and expression. That was another surprise to Irri, who'd been raised in a culture where violence and death were facts of life.
"Thought… back then, thought… did nothing wrong, their fault for being weak. Me strong, can do what I want to them, right?" Drogon shook her head. "And then… her. Couldn't beat her, not even when big. She made me small, I still fought… played dead, then attacked again, and…" A pink tongue flicked out over black teeth, including some that were still regrowing. "I wasn't most strong anymore. Only alive because she let me."
It was a story that resonated with Irri on a personal level. She and her sister Jhiqui been born to Khal Tesso, ruler of a khalasar fifteen-thousand strong. She'd spent the first ten years of her life thinking of her father as the strongest man in the world, and gone about her life with the privileges accorded to a khaleeka. Even her father's bloodriders, all strong men, treated her with respect.
Then Khal Drogo appeared. Irri hadn't seen him kill Tesso personally, but she had seen the lifeless head of her father afterwards.
Her life afterwards had been one of servitude. She'd learned very quickly that she could not be so proud as before, lest she be beaten into a sobbing mess. She'd learned to be humble as she served food to her betters, dressed her betters in clothing, and gave her betters pleasure in bed.
"Was still angry for a while…" Drogon continued. "Then came back to nest, to Meereen. Saw many humans again, didn't think as prey anymore. Started thinking… And last night, started talking, to Mother. That's why I here now… to make up for mistakes."
"You have done that already," Irri said. "Saving our lives is worth far more than one bite on the hand."
"I have already sworn an oath to your mother," Rakharo said, "but honour demands I swear another to you. I know not if a human can be of use to a dragon, but… Khaleeka Drogon, should you ever require my aid, you will have it."
The others, barring Jorah, swore similar oaths.
"Thank you…" Drogon said, still obviously unused to situations like this.
They rested for a few more minutes before Drogon began to growl and watch the eastern horizon. That caused the others to reach for their weapons instinctively.
In the next minute, riders appeared from the east. This was not the small band that had waylaid Irri's group before. Men and horses covered the landscape like a swarm of ants. This was a true khalasar.
"Khaleeka Drogon," Irri said quietly. "Something you should know is that the khaleesi, your mother, once said this regarding Khal Jhaqo."
"What?"
"She said that he should die screaming."
"…That easy."
The dragon spread her wings and flew towards Jhaqo's khalasar, which slowed to a stop. Like with the riders before, several Dothraki were thrown by their panicking horses.
It is shameful for Dothraki to suffer such a fate, as it shows one cannot control their horse… perhaps it is not so shameful when facing a dragon.
A single Dothraki rode to the head of the khalasar. He was a burly man whose braid reached down to chest-height and was decorated with gold, as was his long moustache. He rode a grey stallion that might have looked fierce if it wasn't obviously reluctant to go any further forward.
"I am Khal Jhaqo!" he declared in a booming voice. "What is this… abomination who dares challenge me!?"
"I AM DROGO, DAUGHTER OF KHALEESI DAENERYS!" Drogon shot back. This sentence of Dothraki had no flaws, suggesting it was again something that had been rehearsed. "AND SHE SAID YOU SHOULD SCREAM—SHOULD DIE SCREAMING!"
Jhaqo flinched—the ear-splitting volume that Drogon could create was even more than would be expected from her large body.
"H-Hmph! You are one of these dragons they say Drogo's khaleesi has!? All I see before me is a deformed woman!"
"I've seen much of the world, but I've yet to see any deformity which grants the ability to fly," Jorah muttered.
"He's simply exaggerating, to not lose face in front of his riders," Irri said.
"Or are you even a woman at all!? Are you instead one of those twisted creatures whose manhood has been removed!?"
That insult just made Irri raise an eyebrow. She'd seen literally thousands of eunuchs in her life, and none had the formidable build possessed by the black dragon. Nor did any have the formidable pair of breasts possessed by the black dragon.
Really, it's quite unsettling… I've seen similar breasts before, but on women who were also fat in the rest of the body. Normally, one who builds up muscle—man or woman—has little fat.
"I need no help to put you down, abomination!"
Jhaqo kicked his horse into a reluctant gallop. He brandished his arakh while screaming.
Drogon showed no fear at the approaching enemy, even though Jhaqo on his horse was taller and heavier than her. She simply stood there on the grassy plain…
…until she vanished from Irri's sight. In the next instant, Irri heard the pained cries of both man and horse—Jhaqo and his mount were crashing sideways to the ground.
That caused more Dothraki to begin charging forward, starting with a trio who had to be Jhaqo's bloodriders. Others hung back, either out of cowardice or their horses being unwilling to advance.
No, it wouldn't be cowardice now. Just being rational.
Letting out a battle-cry of her own, Drogon plunged into the oncoming rush of men and horses. Unlike before, she didn't breathe fire, nor did she take flight. She fought the Dothraki on the ground using her own body.
Much of the battle, if it could even be called that, was too fast for Irri to follow. But there were a few moments she could see clearly:
Drogon spreading both her wings horizontally, crushing the chests of two horses as they slammed into the wings.
Drogon whipping her massive tail in a wide arc, snapping the legs of several horses.
Drogon butting heads with a Dothraki, her horns turning the man's head into a bloody ruin.
After just one or two minutes of this, no more Dothraki attacked Drogon. They were all now fleeing the scene as fast as their mounts could carry them. The corpses of over a hundred dotted the landscape.
But Jhaqo still lived. His right leg had been crushed under his horse when it fell, but Drogon had done nothing further to him.
Irri and the others rode out to the fallen khal—former khal, given that his riders had abandoned him.
"…Do you still see Daenerys' dragons as merely deformed women?" Jorah asked casually, a hand on the hilt of his sword.
"N-No!" Jhaqo gasped. He struggled, but he couldn't get free from his dead horse. "I… I apologise for my mistake!"
Irri burst into laughter, and she was not the only one.
Quite a day this has been… hearing not one but two unexpected apologies.
"Your mistake is understandable," Irri said. "Perhaps you wouldn't have made it before, when the dragons were still reptilian beasts, the stuff of legends."
"We'd bring you to the khaleesi for her judgement," Rakharo said. He spat on Jhaqo's fallen body. "But a snivelling worm like you would not even survive the journey." He looked up. "What do you want to do with him, khaleeka?"
Drogon was walking back. Her body was soaked red with blood. Her clothes, on the other hand, were surprisingly clean, which Irri could only assume was magic.
"Mother said he should die screaming? Then… question. Are there hrakkars here?"
Irri blinked. "Perhaps… but they are rare this far south. Why do you ask?"
"Sisters last night, talking about hrakkars and… doesn't matter," Drogon said. "Any predator fine. Just leave him to eat—to be eaten."
Jorah laughed. "I see. A fitting end. Dying in battle, or being executed by a strong foe, has some glory to it. There is no glory in becoming fodder for beasts."
"Wait… WAIT! No… anything but that!"
Rakharo walked over to Jhaqo. Instead of giving the man a quick death, he stomped on the fingers of each hand, breaking them. He also bent down and took Jhaqo's arakh from the ground and Jhaqo's knife from his belt.
"To ensure he cannot end his life easily," Rakharo explained smugly.
They walked away, ignoring Jhaqo's piteous pleas.
With its khal, bloodriders and many others dead, the khalasar will fragment… its surviving kos will fight to become khals in their own right.
And after what happened today, none will dare approach the dragon queen's territory again.
Irri watched Drogo wipe her body down using leaves. She'd been slightly worried that the dragon might have been injured in the battle, but there was nothing more than tiny scratches.
"The dragons' durability is no less than before, surprisingly enough," Jorah said. "I've seen blades be swung at them and then bend or break. It's like trying to cut through stone: you may chip the surface, but you can do no serious damage."
"Still need more practice, that why I fought like that just now, no flying or fire," Drogon grumbled. "She could fight this same fight, and not get hit once."
Irri shuddered. She'd seen the mysterious new companion of her khaleesi a few days earlier. Even Drogon's fighting prowess was at the limits of Irri's imagination, so what could this strange monster do?
"Drogon, are you ready to fly again, or do you need rest?" Jorah asked.
"Could fly for days!" Drogon boasted.
"Then it is time for us to move on," Jorah said. He turned towards the Dothraki. "Drogon and I need to search the rest of the Dothraki Sea to help any more stragglers, and also deal with any other possible threats."
Irri could imagine what these other threats might be. While the remnants of Jhaqo's khalasar would never threaten Meereen again, there were other khalasars that might raid Meereen's outskirts. And another army, that gathered by Yunkai, had also broken recently; its deserters would likely turn to banditry, giving them incentive to raid the outskirts as well.
"Will you be able to return to Meereen by yourselves?"
"Will we?" Rakharo said, glaring at Jorah. "Andal, I know you are simply mocking us! With Jhaqo gone, it is only open plains between us and the khaleesi's city! Even children could make the journey!"
Jorah smiled a little. "Then we will reunite in Meereen, Rakharo. Farewell."
Irri's group parted ways with the Andal and the dragon. They watched the strange pair rise up and then disappear into the northern sky.
"Flying through the sky, as freely as the birds…" Irri murmured. "It seems like an experience beyond description."
"Bah, men were not meant to fly! Horses are the best option for crossing the land!"
"But flying would be much faster…"
The small band of Dothraki continued discussing the merits of flying as they carved up pieces of meat from dead horses for food, then as they began riding south. They soon turned to wondering about what life would be like if men had been made with wings, letting them fly under their own power.
By the time dusk arrived and they stopped for dinner, the discussion had changed to something completely different.
"If all three dragons have the bodies of women now," Hallo said, drunkenly waving around a skewer of horseflesh, "then does that mean they have the lusts of women too?"
Another man, this one named Atto, laughed uproariously. "You'd like that, I'm sure!"
"But what if they do?" said Notho, one whose hair was beginning to grey. "Would they be interested in mere human men?"
Irri, and no doubt everyone else here, recalled the ease with which Drogon had ripped apart men today. Also the ease with which she'd ripped apart the bigger and stronger horses.
"It would take a special kind of man to take a dragon…" Irri said. "Perhaps the First Khal, Mengo?"
"Mengo could have done it," Rakharo agreed. "Perhaps Drogo could have as well."
Irri recalled the former khal. He was everything that a Dothraki man aspired to be. He was someone she quietly loathed for the exact same reason.
After we had our first blood, he took Jhiqui and I a few times. It… amused him to disgrace the blood of a dead foe. Then he lost interest and turned to women from more recent conquests.
When the maegi reduced him to an empty husk, and when the khaleesi ended his life… I felt more joy than when Father gave me my first horse.
But Drogo continued to be venerated by the others here, so Irri voiced none of her thoughts. She simply prayed, non-verbally, to the Great Stallion, prayed that Drogon would continue moving away from being like her namesake.
"Come to think of it, all the dragons are women now, aren't they?" Hallo said. "And they say all the… what was the word the khaleesi used?"
"Monsters," Irri said. "And it wasn't the khaleesi I heard that from. I met…" she had to think carefully to recall the foreign name, "Wilmarina Noscrim, and this was the word she used."
"Well, these mon-stars are all women too. Then… how do they make more of themselves?"
"What if it's just coincidence?" Atto suggested. "That we've only seen the women so far. Perhaps in this strange land the monsters come from, there are men of their kind."
"Or what if they can make offspring without men?" Notho said. "When I was in Vaes Dothrak last, I heard from this foreign scholar—a Milk Man, I recall—that some creatures are all-female and can simply… birth more of themselves."
Hallo shook his head. "That sounds like a fable. And Atto, why would all four monsters and all three dragons be women, that's too much for coincidence! No, I'm sure the answer is something else!"
"What, do you think they use men of other races to procreate?"
"Hah! You would think that, Hallo, it's the only way a scrawny weakling like you would have a chance—"
The Dothraki continued to drink and to mock each other into the night. It was an experience that Irri was very used to, one she found comforting. Eventually, they went to sleep.
After a restful night, they woke the next dawn and resumed their journey. A new discussion was used to pass the time, this one comparing traditional Dothraki cuisine with the various foreign cuisines available in Meereen, cuisines they'd soon get to taste again.
They travelled for two hours before reaching the Skahazadhan, the great river whose western stretch separated the Dothraki Sea from Slaver's Bay. On the other side and somewhat downstream were the brick structures of Meereen.
And soon after she caught sight of Meereen, Irri also caught its smell. There was a reason her group had come to the river upstream from the city—their horses would rebel if directed to swim through the wastes of multitudes of humans, all dumped straight into the river.
Irri's group crossed the Skahazadhan. Due to being in cool and clean water, refreshing on this warm day, the horses neighed in satisfaction as they swam.
When they reached the city on the other side, they found someone waiting for them.
"Rakharo!" exclaimed Aggo, another of Daenerys' bloodriders. He walked up and clasped arms with his friend. "What took you so long? Did your horse fall sick, or were you delayed by enemies?"
"The latter, Khal Jhaqo's khalasar," Rakharo replied. "But they are no more! They were broken thanks to the work of Khaleeka Drogon."
"Yes, she is a true terror on the battlefield," Aggo said. He turned toward Irri. "Ah, and you'll be happy to hear your sister is here as well. She returned yesterday."
Irri's group split up. Most of the men went off to the city's taverns and brothels to relax. Rakharo and Aggo went off in another direction. Irri herself began leisurely riding towards the Great Pyramid.
This city… it has changed.
For Dothraki, living in permanent habitation was seen as stifling. Cities in particular were seen as filthy, overcrowded messes where people constantly tripped over each other, and which brimmed with disease thanks to those same overcrowded conditions. There was not enough space to properly exercise horses, nor was there grass to feed them. And Meereen had been particularly bad while it was under siege, with all trade cut off and plague running rampant among the people. Irri had been glad to leave its walls for the freedom of the open.
Now, on the other hand… Meereen still felt stiflingly overcrowded, but there was a feeling of hope in the atmosphere. People visited the markets and cheerfully haggled with merchants. Children ran around laughing in the streets. Even the slums of the city were cleaner and had fewer miserable beggars.
Irri reached the pyramid at the city's heart. As big as many mountains, it still impressed her each and every time she saw it.
After entering the pyramid, Irri stabled her horse and began walking up the stairs.
These stairs, on the other hand, are not at all impressive… a terrible idea. Rather than building up pointlessly high, it would be better to build everything on the same level, easily reached.
By asking around, Irri quickly discovered her sister's location. She found Jhiqui in one of the more luxurious rooms, braiding the hair of a dragon with cream scales and golden hair.
"Look, look!" Viserion said, pointing with her tail. Her voice was quite the contrast with Drogon's, being higher and softer. "Irri's here too!"
Jhiqui stopped her work, ran over and threw her arms around Irri. The two sisters embraced each other for what felt like eternity. To their mutual shock, Viserion embraced them too, even lifting them up off the floor.
"Together again~ Together again~"
Irri recognised that tune—it was being sung with zero skill, but it originated from a Dothraki song, one about a hero who was separated from his family and braved countless dangers to reunite with them. Irri and Jhiqui had heard this song from their late mother, and they'd sung it a few times to the young dragons.
"Th-Thank you, but you can let us go now, Viserion!" Jhiqui said.
The dragon obeyed. Irri also separated from Jhiqui. She noticed there were several mirrors in the room.
We make a strange picture…
Irri and Jhiqui had the coppery skin, dark hair and dark eyes typical of Dothraki, and both were attired in the Dothraki style of leather vests and horsehair leggings. Irri was slender while Jhiqui was plump. Viserion had the colouring of a Targaryen or a Lyseni, she wore an elaborate gown of yellow silk, and she was quite visibly not human.
And yet we are all family, of a sort…
They sat down together. Viserion offered to try braiding the hair of the two humans, but they politely declined her.
"Is the khaleesi well?" Irri asked.
"In most ways, yes," Jhiqui replied, pouring out a cup of wine—this was one thing that Irri liked more than any Dothraki equivalent. "But she is staying in her marriage to the Ghiscari."
Irri froze instead of taking a drink. "Him!? But he does not have the qualities of a khal! He is not fit to be the sun to her moon!"
Viserion shrugged. "She says it's for… stability? I still don't really get it."
Over the next half an hour, Irri heard about everything that had happened in her absence.
Daario betrayed the khaleesi? So he too lacked the qualities of a khal. He should never have been trusted… a man who slays his leaders in the night knows nothing of loyalty.
Viserion was partway through explaining how she'd helped clear vermin from the city—just the latest in a series of miraculous events—when there was a knock on the door.
"The queen has called for a meeting, and your presence is requested."
"We come," Irri replied awkwardly. Her grasp of Valyrian was still imperfect.
Irri and Jhiqui made for the door, only for Viserion to get in their way.
"Wait, wait, takes so long to go by stairs! I'll fly you up!"
Irri and Jhiqui exchanged uncertain glances. The latter said, "While we are grateful for your kindness, it… might be dangerous for us."
"It's fine, I've been practicing! Just grab my shoulders from behind!"
That was how Irri found herself clinging to Viserion as the dragon leaned out from an opened window. She was wrapping her arms around one scaly shoulder, as tightly as a python coiled around its prey.
"It… It might be better to use the stairs, even if it's slower," Jhiqui said fearfully.
"Relax, it's not dangerous! Even if you fall, I'll catch you!"
That did little to reassure Irri or her sister. But there was no more time to talk, for Viserion spread her wings and took flight.
Irri suppressed a scream. Even at the start of this flight, she was already high enough that a fall would kill, and she was rising higher and higher…
…and then she started paying attention to the experience.
The wind was rushing past, even stronger than that felt on top of a galloping horse. And the view below… Irri had seen similar views before, but that was from the Great Pyramid's windows and thus limited to one direction. Now, she could see to the horizon in almost all directions, giving her a true sense of height.
It's as though I've become a god… able to traverse the sky as well as the land! If I fly up high enough, could I see the Narrow Sea, and the Sunset Kingdoms beyond!?
But the experience was not eternal. Like a flame burning brightly, it soon came to an end. Viserion flew into an open window near the pyramid's apex, landed and set down her passengers.
Irri and Jhiqui staggered as they had to use their own two feet again. It was like the dizziness of walking after a good ride, but a hundred times more intense.
"Enjoyed it, right?" Viserion said. "I'll do it again whenever you want!"
"L-Later, perhaps…" "We have that meeting now…"
The two Dothraki spent a few moments getting their racing hearts and heaving lungs back under control. Then they and Viserion headed to the audience hall.
Numerous people were already gathered here. Irri spotted her khaleesi sitting in a dragon-shaped throne. The khaleesi spotted her as well, and she smiled, though the situation did not allow her to do more than that. Sitting next to the khaleesi was Hizdahr zo Loraq, someone Irri was rather less pleased to see.
On the other side of Daenerys, and standing, was green Rhaegal, who waved with one wing towards Irri's group. With this, Irri had seen all of the dragons post-transformation.
And that would be the dwarf from the Sunset Kingdoms, Irri thought, her eyes settling on Tyrion Lannister. Jhiqui said the khaleesi took him in for having a useful mind, but is that truly worth having a man cursed by the gods?
And that scar that's taken most of his nose… is that a battle scar? What was a dwarf doing anywhere near a battle?
Irri and Jhiqui took up positions at the side of the hall, while Viserion joined her sister in standing near Daenerys.
More people arrived over the next few minutes, mainly military commanders. Aggo and Rakharo were among them.
"Thank you all for coming here at such short notice," Daenerys said eventually. "We have called you here to discuss another threat to Meereen. Rhaegal, please tell the court what you saw."
Rhaegal opened her mouth, then stepped forward a bit clumsily. It seemed she was still uncertain about proper etiquette.
"This morning… I flew out over the water, over the bay," Rhaegal said. "To keep watch over the Ironborn when they fished." She frowned a bit, apparently confused by the men in question not literally being made of iron, despite their name. "Saw ships—more ships far away, to the southwest."
"How many ships were there?" Hizdahr asked. Irri spotted a thin line of sweat running down his face.
"Not sure… but more than the Ironborn have. Um… more than a hundred?"
That caused a stir in the hall. Irri knew little of ships, but she did know that very few countries could muster a fleet of more than a hundred ships.
"And what was on the ships?" Daenerys asked. "Did you see any flags?"
"Lots of humans. Some of the ships had these… big bows? Those weapons that shoot big spikes. And there were flags, red with three yellow…" Rhaegal sounded lost for a moment, but then she looked at the queen and king. "Crowns! Each flag was red with three crowns!"
There were already a dozen whispered conversations in the hall, but now these increased in volume, filling the space with a dizzying clamour.
"It's Volantis!"
"Even Volantis is no threat to Meereen now! Not when we have dragons!"
"But the Volantene fleet is larger than the Ironborn, and better-armed! It sounds as if they've brought scorpions!"
"And we only have two of the dragons here now! The black has yet to return!"
"We also have the Royal Sorceress! She drove off an even greater army before!"
"But we cannot rely on her too much—we should not be relying on her too much!"
"Send out the Ironborn, they were our enemies to begin with! Let them spend themselves against the Volantenes, then send out the dragons and Royal Sorceress!"
On and on it went. Irri had nothing to contribute to a battle on the sea, so she thought about the city responsible for this fleet.
Volantis… I've never been there in person, but I've heard whispers of it. The largest of the Free Cities, some say it is even larger than Vaes Dothrak. It has three khals, which is why its flag bears three crowns. And their khals do not gain power by being strong.
Irri recalled that the triarchs of Volantis were chosen by the non-slave population of the city. They also didn't hold power for life, only for the span of a year. It was hard for her to imagine how such a system could work without dissolving into constant infighting.
But Volantis still stands, no Dothraki ever managed to put it to the torch. It must be stronger than I think.
The clamour stopped when Daenerys shouted, "Enough! There is one more witness to listen to, before we discuss anything further! I call on Victarion of House Greyjoy!"
A Westerosi-looking man with greying black hair stepped forward. He was larger than almost anyone else in the room, and he was also missing his right hand. These features should have made him stand out, but the royal court had such a wide variety of people that Irri hadn't noticed him before.
"…I stopped in Volantis on my way here," Victarion said with surprisingly meekness. "I saw their preparations for war. I heard them talking about how they would easily sack this city, kill its dragon queen and take home fortunes in gold and gems and slaves."
Rhaegal and Viserion both hissed. Moments like this reminded Irri of the dragons when they were younger.
"They're not killing Mother that easy!" Rhaegal said.
"Let's burn them first!" Viserion said.
"What is your opinion of the Volantenes' strength?" Hizdahr asked nervously.
Victarion considered this for a moment. "They could have sent at least three hundred ships, potentially five hundred if they pressed every single merchant ship into service as well. Some would be lost to storms—my own fleet," his voice turned bitter, "lost ships to storms. But it would be safe to expect several hundred ships. That is all I know. I did not see the fleet itself."
"…Thank you."
Victarion stepped back. He gave the air of someone who didn't care if the Volantenes sacked Meereen or not, even though his own life hung in the balance too.
The hall was filled with a dozen conversations, far more pessimistic in tone than before. More than one person wanted to go to the Royal Sorceress right now and beg for her help.
Jhiqui said, and she'd heard from the khaleesi, that the Ironborn had sixty-one ships. And they didn't have any way to combat dragons, except one magical horn that did nothing. Volantis has multiple times that number, and with weapons, Irri recalled how Drogon had been scratched by weapons swung by mere human hands, that may be able to shoot dragons out of the sky.
Irri was tempted to suggest that her khaleesi just leave Meereen. The monsters could defend the city if they so cared. Her khaleesi should instead go west to reduce Volantis to ash, as retribution for sending this fleet, then continue west to the Sunset Kingdoms, her goal all along. But she knew the khaleesi would never accept.
"It is not yet time to lose hope!" Daenerys declared. "There is a way to defeat this fleet, and without burdening Royal Sorceress Wilmarina, either."
There were mutterings of "Is there?" and "If the dragon queen thinks it's possible…"
"As you all know, I spent several days and nights with my daughters in the Dothraki Sea," Daenerys said. "As a result, I noticed a certain change when Wilmarina transformed them, one that most of you will not know yet. With this, we need fear no enemy again…"
AN: "khaleeka" is a term of my invention to refer to the daughter of a khal. Compare with the canon "khaleesi" (khal's wife) and "khalakka" (khal's son).
For those not familiar with ASOIAF, "Milk Men" is the Dothraki term for the people of Qarth, based on their pale skin.
Volantis doesn't seem to have a specified flag in canon, so I invented it for this fanfic.