298 AC - In Volantis:
Valyria was young, and as the young do, it sought to spread its seed. Its first daughter was Volantis, an outpost on the mighty Rhoyne River at the frontier of the empire.
There, the dragonlords raised the famous Black Walls; seamless, fused dragon stone two hundred feet tall and so thick that six four-horse chariots can race along the battlement side by side, as they do each year to celebrate the founding of the city.
To this day, only those who can trace their ancestry back to Old Valyria are allowed to dwell within the Black Walls. None are even permitted to set foot inside without an express invitation of a scion of the Old Blood, meaning, of course, the ancient and noble blood of foot soldiers.
For the city's first hundred years, its only inhabitants were its garrison. But where soldiers go, vice follows. Taverns and brothels began to sprout up outside the Black Walls, and merchant ships began to call as well, bearing the favored trade of the Summer Sea. Slaves.
The east bank filled with homes, shops, and society. And so, the taverns and brothels moved to the west bank, where foreigners, sellswords, and pirates erected their own shadow city of fornication, drunkenness, and murder.
In time, the west bank became such a cesspit of crime and depravity that the Volantines had no choice but to send their slave soldiers across the Rhoyne to restore order and some semblance of decency.
Like all such missions, they succeeded, they left, then they failed.
When the Volantines grew weary of shipping their soldiers across the Rhoyne every year, they built the famous Long Bridge of Volantis, strong enough to support the weight of one thousand elephants, and many more soldiers.
The Long Bridge of Volantis stands today as the longest bridge in all the known world. The Volantine rulers intended the bridge to spread the civilization of the east bank to the west.
Instead, the depravity of the west bank spread east. Shops, temples, taverns, inns, and brothels line the bridge, most three or four stories tall, with each floor overhanging the one beneath it.
One can buy anything on the Long Bridge, or steal it if one's hands are quick enough. But if they're not...
Though, at least half the decor committed no greater crime than displeasing a master. For in Volantis, there are five slaves for every free man, a proportion matched only by the cities of Slaver's Bay.
The Volantine masters mark their property with facial tattoos, permanent and scarring, which denote the vocation of the slave.
Slave soldiers wear green tiger stripes upon their faces. Slave whores are marked by tears beneath one eye. The slaves that collect the dung of horses and elephants are marked with flies. The drivers of the hathays, the carts pulled by the small elephants of Volantis, are marked with wheels, and so on.
A master may give his slave freedom, but no man can give a new face. Is it any wonder, then, that the slaves and freedmen have turned, in such great numbers, to the priests who preach of a cleansing fire?
The temple of the Lord of Light in Volantis is said to be the greatest in all the world, larger even than the Great Sept of Baelor. All who serve within this mighty temple are slaves, bought as children and trained to become priests, temple prostitutes, or warriors.
And one could argue its adherents outside the temple are slaves, as well, in mind, if not in body.
Magic frees nobody except its practitioner, to do what he will with those who can't, just as the Black Walls free the Old Blood to see what they will without those they don't.
But one must wonder how much longer such freedoms will endure, when across Essos, one hears the sound of chains breaking, of slaves rising, of dragons roaring. Volantis may call itself the first offspring of Valyria, but it is not the last.
Anakin's understanding of Volantis mirrored that of other Slaver's Bay cities, save for its distinctive pyramids. He recognized its deep involvement in the slave trade and should have anticipated their role in his conflict. A tinge of self-reproach lingered for his oversight. However, fortune had smiled upon him within the city itself. Through the Red Priestess' assistance, they would gain access across the Rhoyne, allowing for a more expedited approach towards the city's leaders from the eastern flank.
Volantis, much like Norvos, is a divided city. Its eastern section is dominated by the Blood of Old Valyria, where grand structures such as palaces, courtyards, temples, and towers can be found within the protective walls of black dragonstone. On the other hand, the newer western districts are bustling with the activity of its diverse inhabitants and visitors. The two parts are connected by the Long Bridge.
As the first light of dawn painted the sky with hues of orange and gold, a feeling of dread hovered over the city of Volantis.
In the mist, an army emerged in the distance, their banners bearing the emblem of a fierce three-headed dragon unfurled proudly in the wind. It was a Dothraki Khalasar accompanied by the disciplined march of Unsullied soldiers.
The city guards manning the walls of Volantis watched in stunned fear as the approaching Riders grew closer, their war cries echoing across the plains.
But it was too late for them to prepare, as they soon realized in terror that a treacherous betrayal had taken place within the city during the stillness of the night. Unbeknownst to them, soldiers and slaves who had secretly pledged their loyalty to the Lord of Light had turned on the city, pillaging it from within.
The gates of Volantis stood wide open, a gateway for the Dothraki to pour through on horseback without resistance. The city's once formidable defenses crumbled under the chaos and destruction that ensued from within. The Red Priestess's influence had aided in gathering allies for Anakin's cause, making the city's conquest a slightly easier task.
With their braids flying behind them, the Dothraki rode like a powerful storm. They were the first to enter the city, cutting through the still-recovering city guards and preventing them from recovering fast enough to create a proper defense. The sounds of thundering hooves and war cries echoed throughout the city, creating a sense of urgency in the air.
Anakin looked on with satisfaction, giving a nod of approval to the Unsullied who marched in after the Riders. Anakin, Grey-Worm, Ser Jorah, and Viserys stood at the back of the assembled army, watching events unfold with a steely gaze.
Upon witnessing the vast number of slaves and the conditions they were in, Anakin couldn't help but question if he should have arrived in Volantis sooner. He gave orders to eliminate any opposition and set free the enslaved population.
When the battle commenced, Viserys Targaryen, famed for his arrogance and sense of entitlement, responded with a combination of dread and desperation. In Sar Mell, Anakin had helped his uncle put on a suit of lightweight chainmail and handed him his steel sword, a present Viserys received from Magister Illyrio.
He had told him to stay close, but as the chaos of war escalated, his uncle's hubris proved to be his downfall. Ignoring the orders of Anakin to stay close, he recklessly attacked wounded soldiers and backstabbed city guards, consumed by unchecked aggression. As expected, Viserys unknowingly became separated from his nephew and the knight from Westeros.
A sudden sense of alarm overwhelmed him as he realized the gravity of his situation. With each passing moment, regret gripped him, his bravado crumbling beneath the weight of his foolishness. The sounds of battle faded into the background as he frantically searched for his companions, his mind swirling. His arrogance had blinded him to the true dangers within the city, leaving him vulnerable and alone.
In his mind he grappled with this realization, he knew he must find a way to make amends or he would die. With a newfound humility, he sought out his allies.
Meanwhile, Ser Jorah vigilantly observes Anakin, waiting to see when he'll make his move. Although the Targaryen had already proven his impressive fighting prowess by defeating Khal Drogo, the knight had yet to actually see him in battle.
Anakin disregarded the defeated enemies at the gates and led a group of Unsullied behind him. He only joined the battle when they encountered their first adversaries head on, who were strategically arranged in a wall formation at the entrance of the city streets.
In order to reach the palace where the Triarchs were situated behind the formidable Black Walls, they would have to navigate through these narrow streets.
Inside the Black Walls, known as Old Volantis by its inhabitants, was the grandiose Palace of the Triarchs - a colossal monolith crafted from marble and fused dragonstone, making it one of the most awe-inspiring structures in the city. The Triarchs, guarded by the fierce Tiger Cloaks - a slave army marked by green stripes across their cheeks and helms depicting their namesake, reserved entry for only a select few.
Anakin's forces were facing a different challenge than when they faced the Dothraki. For starters, they lacked the thermal detonators that had proven so effective against the nomadic horse riders. He had brought a limited supply that wouldn't be sufficient for the coming battle. He bitterly regretted not anticipating the need for more, especially now that their objective included the capture of Volantis.
Instead, approaching the narrow streets, Anakin directed his men to form a v-shaped formation with him at the center. By his side stood Grey-Worm and Jorah, whose sharp eyes admired the audacity shown in the young warrior's strategy.
Anakin's plan was simple yet effective - he tasked the Unsullied with neutralizing the enemy troops, using their superior training and discipline to gradually herd them towards him. As he commanded the Unsullied soldiers, their disciplined ranks resembled a well-oiled machine.
Meanwhile, Anakin stood ready, his skill with the blade becoming more apparent with each enemy soldier he defeated. His graceful movements were like a deadly dance, leaving no room for doubt or hesitation. And around him, the Unsullied remained resolute, with any fallen man being swiftly replaced to maintain the integrity of their formation.
Jorah knew that this strategy was risky, but the potential reward was also great. It all relied on the Targaryen's survival and the enemy's blind charge. Luckily, Anakin seemed untouchable, effortlessly repelling the overwhelming number of opponents thrown his way, solidifying the success of his plan.
As the sounds of battle faded, they emerged victorious, their enemies fleeing deeper into the city.
After the initial chaos, Anakin realized that Viserys was missing and quickly enlisted Ser Jorah to find his uncle and ensure his safety.
Elsewhere, Viserys himself was engaged in a fierce battle with his own opponent. With a swift and practiced motion, his opponent disarmed him, their blades clashing. Panic surged through him as he desperately fought to defend himself from the blade being shoved into his chest, his mind racing with the realization that he stood on the precipice of defeat. With every ounce of strength he possessed, he struggled to prevent the blade from finding its mark, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he battled for his very life.
Just as all hope seems lost, Ser Jorah appears and vanquishes Viserys's adversary, shoving his sword in the man's back. Jorah reveals that Anakin had noticed his absence and sent the knight after him.
In that moment of peril, the stark reality of war crashed down upon Viserys like a crushing weight, shattering any lofty fantasies he may have harbored. With newfound humility, he clung to the side of the knight as they made their way back to his nephew.
Having played his part, Ser Jorah found the whole ordeal to be quite intriguing. It's not often that one encounters a king who is willing to fight his own battles, but Anakin Targaryen seemed not only willing, but very capable.
Once reunited with the King, the major obstacle in this clash for them proved to be the city's utilization of elephants, a common animal found in Volantis. Despite these creatures typically being used as work animals by slaves adorned with tattoos of wheels, they were now being employed in war, with both full-size and smaller elephants being used to battle the city's enemies.
When Volantis' defenses were breached and the eastern district's narrow streets were flooded with Dothraki Riders, the war elephants proved to be a formidable foe for the fearless skilled warriors. With an ear-splitting roar, the elephants were unleashed upon the unsuspecting Dothraki, smashing through the narrow streets with trunks raised and tusks glinting in the morning sunlight.
The Dothraki, not accustomed to facing such massive and powerful creatures, were quickly overwhelmed. In a deadly game of cat and mouse, the Dothraki riders were crushed beneath the feet of the elephants, their screams drowned out by the chaos of battle. As panic spread through their ranks, they struggled to defend themselves against the unrelenting onslaught of the charging beasts. And though many of their Riders fell in the face of the rampage, the Dothraki remained determined and resolute, knowing that the fight was far from over.
As the threat of the rampaging elephants loomed large over the besieged city, Anakin stood at the forefront of the resistance, his mind racing with the urgency of the moment. He formulated a bold plan that would pit the Dothraki's speed and agility against the powerful elephants.
With determination, he rallied his battalions and prepared them for the impending attack. The Dothraki mounted their horses and charged once again, drawing the elephants deeper into the city's narrow streets.
But Anakin was ready. He and his soldiers, along with Ser Jorah, Grey-Worm, and Viserys, lay in wait on the rooftops of the streets, armed and prepared to strike.
After Ser Jorah returned with Viserys, Anakin wasted no time in outlining their strategy.
However, his uncle continuously nagged him about it, "What the hell are we supposed to do, hmmm. Leap off the roof, hope we land on the beasts and kill the riders before they kill us?" questioning the effectiveness of their plan.
In response, Anakin merely grinned sardonically and declared, "That's exactly what we're going to do."
Ser Jorah was quick to point out the risks and inevitable casualties of his plan. "A bold plan, your grace. A risky one, but bold."
Anakin, however, remained firm in his belief that the Dothraki were capable of carrying out this guerrilla warfare tactic.
As the sound of thundering elephant hooves and trumpeting grew closer, the group snapped into focus, watching as the beasts charged through the streets, chasing after Dothraki riders.
Some of the men ahead of them managed to leap onto the elephants, only to be taken down by the riders. Those who couldn't hold on were trampled to death by the rest of the horde. Despite the challenges, the men were slowly but surely making progress in taking down the riders.
Amidst the chaos, Viserys watched in horror as some unfortunate souls attempting to jump onto elephants were crushed. While others used arrows from a distance, Viserys lacked the skill. Anxious and trying to back away, even Ser Jorah remained determined.
Suddenly, Anakin grasped his uncle's wrist and reassured him, "I'll be right behind you, now go!" before forcefully throwing him into the stampede of elephants.
Following suit, he and Jorah managed to land on the same beast that Viserys was thrown onto.
The rider, distracted by the struggling Viserys and the skilled Anakin who landed gracefully in front of him, failed to notice the knight, who had stealthily landed on the elephant's rear.
With one swift motion, Ser Jorah plunged his sword into the rider from behind, killing the man and shoving him off the beast. Meanwhile, Anakin steadily made his way over to Viserys and helped him onto the saddle, before he fell off.
Seeing an opportunity, Jorah seized the fallen rider's spear and skillfully aimed at an elephant behind them. With a mighty thrust, he drove the spear into the elephant's skull, causing it to collapse in agony.
In a domino effect, the other beasts and their riders were brought down, causing a tangled mess of bodies and armor. The impact was so powerful that it caused the earth to tremble and shook the battlefield. The resulting shockwaves spread through the area, causing chaos and destruction.
As the dust settled and the sounds of destruction faded, Anakin looked upon the scene with a mix of awe and inspiration. The fallen elephants had caused buildings like homes, brothels, pubs, and inns to crumble into ruins.
But amidst the devastation, there was a glimmer of hope. The destruction had created a wider path for Anakin's armies to march through, giving them a strategic advantage in the midst of everything.
Looking ahead, Anakin saw their path to victory. Now that the elephants were dealt with, their next objective was to breach The Black Walls and reach the Triarchs who reside within, then this could all be over.
Upon reaching the Black Walls, from atop, the Tiger Cloaks launched a barrage of arrows, but the Unsullied soldiers below remained stoic in the face of their futile efforts. In their impenetrable turtle formation, they pressed forward, their shields interlocked. Anakin, Jorah, Grey-Worm, and Viserys marched among them, their shields providing cover against the deadly rain of arrows.
As they approached the imposing walls, they knew the gates would not be an easy passage, unlike the city's main ones, forcing them to seek another way in.
Ser Jorah found himself in peril as a massive boulder hurtled towards him, only to witness its miraculous change in trajectory mid-fall. His gaze turned to Anakin, whose hand was raised in a silent command.
With their backs up against the walls, before the knight could voice his confusion, Anakin spurred the army into action. In a swift motion, ladders were raised, transforming the seemingly insurmountable wall into a mere inconvenience. The Unsullied, crafted for siege warfare, with precision and discipline, executed the task flawlessly.
As the ladders ascended, Anakin scaled the walls with unmatched efficiency, his movements fluid and assured. With each step, he struck down the Tiger Cloaks guarding the perimeter, his resolve driving the Unsullied ever onward towards victory.
In a moment of introspection, Ser Jorah came to the realization that his allegiance to the Targaryen heir was not entirely genuine; rather, he was simply spying on him. However, as he witnessed him fearlessly leading the charge and securing victory, the knight couldn't help but be moved by the young man's courage. Although Jorah didn't fully understand Anakin's reasons in fighting for the liberation of slaves, he found himself drawn to the ongoing battle. In his mind, he couldn't help but label him as a hero with no fear.
Similarly, Anakin was impressed by the ferocity of the Tiger Cloaks, despite their enslavement. He was surprised that they didn't defect and join their cause, as countless other slaves in the city had already done. It was evident that these soldiers were fiercely loyal, or brainwashed, to serve the Triarchs only.
After the Black Walls were breached and Dothraki Riders poured in, Anakin's men managed to start taking Tiger Cloak prisoners who surrendered. He then dispatched a group of his most trusted Unsullied commanders led by Grey-Worm to capture the three Triarchs and bring them to the Red Temple on the north-eastern side of the city. Without hesitation, Grey-Worm and the commanders formed squadrons and set out towards the lavish palaces where their targets resided.
As Anakin surveyed the area, he gave the Dothraki warriors permission to loot the palaces. They erupted in cheers and immediately began plundering their opulent surroundings.
When it was all settled, Anakin and Ser Jorah emerged from out the Black Walls with a small group of Unsullied guards.
"The battle is won, Your Grace. Where to now?" Ser Jorah inquired, curious about his plans for the city's future.
Anakin replied, "I don't plan on being here for long, most of this was done for the slaves in the city. I'm going to leave the governing to the Red Priests and-" he was interrupted as he noticed the absence of a certain person, causing him to turn to Ser Jorah and ask, "Wait… where's Viserys?"
With a defeated expression, Ser Jorah led Anakin along the road outside the gates, where Viserys sat on a carriage, drinking wine.
"Nephew! There he is, there's the dragon!" exclaimed the Targaryen Prince with slurred words and peculiar joy.
Anakin approached his uncle and inquired, "Have you been drinking?"
"No idea what you're talking about," Viserys denied it, despite showing signs of being inebriated.
"Well… at least you waited until the end. Come on, we're heading to the Red Temple. Ser Jorah bring the horses," says Anakin.
As Ser Jorah left, he observed Viserys, noting his rare silence and the trembling of his hands as he raised his drink.
Anakin placed a comforting hand on Viserys' shoulder and commended him, "You did well," hoping that his uncle had learned something from their recent battle.
"Of course I did. I'm a dragon," Viserys boasted with his signature arrogance.
Anakin found solace in the fact that his uncle had not met his demise. Babysitting was not something he was accustomed to amidst the chaos of war, the Unsullied who needed no such protection.
Keeping track of Viserys during battles proved to be a daunting task for Anakin, as he would either fall behind or recklessly venture on his own. It was up to Ser Jorah to locate and ensure the safety of his uncle, and his competence impressed him. Additionally, Jorah's fighting style evoked memories of his old friend, Ser Willem, and filled him with a sense of nostalgia.
As they rode northward with their contingent of men, they skirted around the gate through which they had first breached the city, then made their way towards the Red Temple.
Rising majestically, the temple is an enormous structure consisting of pillars, steps, buttresses, domes, bridges and towers flowing into one another, as if chiseled from one colossal rock. The temple walls are covered with a hundred hues of red, yellow, gold and orange.
Within its walls, one could find an abundance of red priests and priestesses, zealously devoted to the Lord of Light and engaging in fiery rituals and ceremonies focused on prophecy. As the central gathering place for followers of the faith of R'hllor, the temple's use of fire served as a powerful symbol of their reverence for the deity.
The temple is guarded by a formidable army of enslaved soldiers, known as the Fiery Hand and commanded by the High Priestess, Kinvara. All those who served within its walls were slaves who had been brought in childhood and trained to become red priests, temple prostitutes, and warriors.
The Red Temple of Volantis is renowned as a place of utmost religious devotion for those who worshiped the Lord of Light, surpassing even the Great Sept of Baelor in King's Landing by three times in size and splendor.
As Anakin and his group approached the temple's grand entrance, they were met by Kinvara. Her presence was striking, a blend of regal authority and mystical allure.
She offered a formal welcome, her voice carrying the weight of her position, and gracefully descended the temple steps to guide them. They followed her through the temple's shadowed corridors, the air thick with the scent of incense and the quiet hum of prayers.
Viserys, ever the opportunist, couldn't help but flirt with the courtesans they passed along the way. Their laughter and playful responses only emboldened him further.
As they walked along, Anakin's thoughts raced with the potential consequence that his actions today might spawn. He recognized the stark contrast between the sluggish dissemination of information in Slaver's Bay and the swift currents of gossip that flowed through the Free Cities of Essos. Spies lurked in abundance in these cosmopolitan hubs, eagerly awaiting news that could be twisted to their advantage. His mind churned with the sinister plots his enemies might concoct, and he fervently hoped that his allies in Meereen possessed the fortitude to thwart any potential machinations.
Kinvara continued to lead them deeper into the temple, through a series of winding passages that seemed to lead into the heart of the building, until they arrived at a smelting room, where the air was heavy with heat and the glow of molten metal cast an eerie light on their faces. The intense flames flickered, illuminating the sweat-streaked faces of the smelters as they toiled over their fiery tasks.
Speaking in fluent Valyrian, Kinvara conversed with the head smelter, her words quick. The man nodded and disappeared into a back room, returning moments later with a small, ornate case. He handed it to her with a reverent bow.
Kinvara took the case and approached Anakin, her eyes gleaming with a mix of reverence and anticipation. She carefully opened the case, revealing a golden crown. The flames danced in its polished surfaces, casting shimmering reflections that played across the room.
"A crown for a king. Wouldn't you say?" she proclaimed.
The golden crown is sculpted with delicate precision, each ridge and curve resembling the graceful movement of flames. Gleaming with the luster of pure gold, it radiates regality. The tips of the crown mimic the pointed peaks of flames, while subtle engravings and details add depth and texture to the fiery design. As it rests upon the wearer's head, it exudes an aura of power and majesty, akin to a sovereign ruler of fire itself.
Anakin's expression hardened. "I'm not wearing a crown," he said firmly. It was a principle he had stood by since his time as king in Meereen, where this decision caused less uproar.
But the Red Priestess was not deterred. "Wearing the crown symbolizes more than just freedom and justice," she insisted. "It means serving the Lord of Light, embodying the divine mandate that has been bestowed upon you."
Viserys, although secretly admiring the crown's regal appearance, snobbishly interjects, "Frankly I'm surprised you didn't have one already. I suppose this will suffice."
Anakin looked at the crown, the firelight reflecting in his eyes. He understood the weight of her words, the importance of symbols and what they represented to the people who followed him. Yet, he also knew the burden of those symbols, the expectations and the dangers they carried.
Suddenly, the heavy door of the smelting room creaked open, and a young temple priestess hurried inside. Her youthful face was flushed with urgency as she spoke in rapid Valyrian, addressing Kinvara. Anakin, understanding every word, listened intently.
"My Lady," the priestess began, "The armies have arrived. They were followed by many freedmen. They wait beneath the entrance steps. The Unsullied stand as a barrier, keeping them in the temple plaza."
Kinvara nodded, her expression unreadable as she absorbed the information. Anakin processed the news. Grey-Worm and his commanders had evidently succeeded in apprehending the Triarchs and bringing them here, just as he had instructed.
Turning to Ser Jorah, he briefed him on the situation. "Jorah, it seems our troops and the people of Volantis have gathered outside. Grey-Worm must have the Triarchs with him. Take Viserys and wait for me outside."
Ser Jorah nodded, his face serious as he glanced at Viserys, who was still grinning smugly from his earlier flirtations.
"Come on," Jorah said, his tone leaving no room for argument. He gently but firmly guided Viserys toward the door. Viserys, slightly disgruntled but too inebriated to resist, complied.
As they left the room, the air seemed to thicken with the weight of the moment. Anakin turned to Kinvara, his eyes meeting hers. After dismissing the others in the room, they were left alone in the smelting chamber.
He immediately reiterated his earlier statement, saying, "I am not wearing that."
Kinvara's gaze softened, though the intensity in her eyes remained. "Of course," she nodded slowly, closing the case and moving closer to him, offering her hand for him to take.
He accepted her hand and she led him towards a blazing cauldron. Curiosity got the better of Kinvara and she asked, "Have you ever had visions? Of what has happened? May happen? Will happen?"
Her words make him suspicious, "What makes you say that?" Anakin asks, wondering if she knew about his visions.
Kinvara clarified, "My visions. The Lord of Light grants all those he deems worthy with his blessing," as she placed her hands on his shoulders and directed him to look into the flames, asking him, "Look into the heart of the fire, what do you see?"
"I see fire," Anakin dispassionately responded.
"Give me your hand," she requested, grasping his left hand and creating a slight gash on it, causing blood to flow, and diverting his gaze from the fiery blaze.
An intrigued Anakin asked what she was doing, to which she responded, "Give your blood to the flames. And the truth will become apparent."
He extended his arm over the cauldron, letting his blood drip into the fire. Behind him, Kinvara leaned in, resting her head against his shoulder, and whispered in his ear. "Now what do you see, My King?"
Anakin had only ever experienced his visions in his dreams, but now they seemed to be manifesting before him, in the flesh.
He called them 'force visions' and their content was diverse, ranging from mundane to horrifying. However, these visions often predicted events that had either happened or were yet to come. For Anakin, recognizing the 'yet to come' visions were easy to see, as he only had to wait for them to occur. On the other hand, understanding the 'happened' visions proved to be more difficult, as their connection to the past was only decipherable when Anakin recognized Daenerys present in one of them. The first vision of the past he received was of a man who shared similar Targaryen features to his own, playing a harp with dexterity.
But in the present moment, Anakin's visions were crystal clear in the fire. Images came together in a mesmerizing display, showing him donning a menacing black armor and commanding the Unsullied in war-torn cities as they brought peace and justice. Within the ever-changing vision, familiar faces like Daenerys, Jorah, and Missandei appeared, alongside unfamiliar ones. Anakin witnessed battles, dragons soaring, and whispered plots in dimly lit chambers. The vision shifted between moments of triumph and despair, leaving him with a solemn understanding of the delicate balance between power and corruption in this world.
His gaze fixated on the dancing flames, his eyes widening as he takes in the vision before him. Figures emerged from the flames: his mother and sister, Elia Martell and Rhaenys Targaryen. Though he had never seen their faces in the flesh, an inexplicable knowing seized him, and he recognized them. His features softened as he absorbed the haunting scene unfolding within the flames, the sight of their lifeless forms laid bare at the foot of the Iron Throne.
Anakin's hand instinctively recoiled from the heat, the weight of what he had just witnessed crashing over him. Emotions surged, overwhelming him with a profound sense of sadness, anger, and hate.
Kinvara rested her head on his shoulder, softly running her fingers through his hair in an attempt to comfort him. As she gazed at him intently, it was almost as though she could see into the depths of his soul and read his every thought.
With a solemn tone, she spoke, "The choice is still yours to make."
Anakin turned away from the Red Priestess, his mind in turmoil as he grappled with conflicting emotions. The vision lingered in his mind, fueling a fierce determination to avenge past events and prevent the foreseen events from coming to pass.
He understood the true meaning behind Kinvara's enigmatic words. The Red Priestess's sudden revelation left Anakin baffled. He could''t fathom why she would divulge such information. She rarely displayed any interest in his lineage, so her motives in sharing this piece of his family history remained perplexing to him.
Interrupting his thoughts, she took his lack of response as agreement and urged him to follow her.
As they made their way out of the room and towards the temple's entrance, a throng of onlookers had gathered below the steps in the plaza, awaiting the unfolding of a momentous event.
Following orders, Grey-Worm and his commanders bring forth the three bound and conscious Triarchs of Volantis: Malaquo Maegyr, Doniphos Paenymion, and Nyessos Vhassar. These were the three nobles that they had been searching for.
Kinvara commands her fellow priest to light three large fires in the area surrounding the temple steps. Each bonfire was carefully crafted using aged timber from Qohor and adorned with ancient symbols carefully carved into the wood, emitting a faint, otherworldly glow.
As darkness descended upon the Red Temple of Volantis, the bonfires sprang to life, their crackling flames casting a warm glow that illuminated the surroundings. The air was thick with anticipation as shadows danced against the temple's ancient stone walls.
Standing atop the grand staircase, The High Priestess addressed the assembled crowd of slaves, commoners, and Dothraki. The Unsullied, ever vigilant, maintained their watchful stance, creating a protective barrier that divided the gathering at the base of the steps.
Kinvara, her crimson robes flowing, raised her arms to command attention. Her voice, both powerful and serene, echoed through the night air. "People of Volantis, faithful followers of the Lord of Light, we stand on the brink of a new dawn," she began, her words igniting a spark of hope in the hearts of those present.
As the First Servant of the Lord of Light, Kinvara's presence radiated authority and reverence. She turned to Anakin, who stood beside her, his expression solemn and resolute.
With a ceremonious gesture, she bestowed upon him the titles that had been whispered in prophecies and ancient texts for centuries. "Anakin Targaryen, The Prince That Was Promised, the Son of Fire, the Warrior of Light, Azor Ahai, and the Lord's Chosen."
The crowd murmured amongst themselves. These were no ordinary titles; they were names for the legendary figure prophesied to save the followers of the Lord of Light from the darkness of the Great Other.
Kinvara recounted the ancient tale, her voice in Valyrian weaving a tapestry of myth and destiny. "Long ago, Azor Ahai defeated the darkness with a sword he forged himself - Lightbringer. The prophecy speaks of one who would be born amidst salt and smoke, who would awaken dragons from stone, and who would retrieve a burning sword from flames to battle an impending darkness."
The flames of the bonfires blazed higher, as if in response to the Red Priestess's fervor. Anakin looked out over the sea of faces, feeling their belief and hope infuse him with strength.
The Red Priestess continued, her eyes gleaming with fervor. "Anakin has been chosen by the Lord of Light. He is the beacon in the darkness, the light that will guide us to victory. As he wields Lightbringer, the sword of legend, he will lead us against the forces of the Great Other."
As Kinvara addressed the crowd, her voice resonating with a blend of reverence and authority, she gestured towards a chest draped in rich red fabric. With a flourish, she unveiled the chest to reveal the box containing Daenerys's dragon eggs.
The sight of them instantly set Anakin off. His eyes narrowed, and his posture stiffened as he demanded, "How did you get these?"
Kinvara, momentarily taken aback by the intensity of his reaction, faltered. She had never witnessed this more serious aspect of Anakin before, though glimpses of such moments had appeared in her divinations. It was clear that his aunt and loved ones held immense significance in his life, driving him to act impulsively, heedless of the consequences. This impulsiveness, she noted, was a potential weakness she would need to scrutinize later.
Both Ser Jorah and Viserys observed the scene with keen interest, though they chose to keep their thoughts to themselves. Jorah had previously noticed that Daenerys was without her dragon eggs, but when he had inquired, she had simply assured him they were somewhere safe. Now, seeing them revealed before the crowd, his curiosity deepened.
As Anakin confronted her, the tension in the air was palpable. Kinvara, sensing the urgency to calm him, leaned in and discreetly whispered comforting words into his ear. Her voice was soft, almost hypnotic, as she assured him of her intentions.
Slowly, she handed him the eggs, wrapped in the same red cloth like a sacred satchel. The instant he held the eggs, the tautness in his muscles eased.
This visible transformation did not go unnoticed by Viserys and Jorah. Viserys mentally noted the shift in Anakin's demeanor. Jorah, on the other hand, felt curiosity, wondering what power Kinvara wielded over the Targaryen.
The High Priestess stood tall and resolute, her crimson robes billowing in the night breeze as she delivered the ultimatum to the Triarchs gathered before her.
The Triarchs, unable to resist the overwhelming presence of the Red Priestess and the armed forces at her back, listened in strained silence. With a commanding voice, she declared that Anakin, with his Valyrian heritage, had the rightful claim to rule over Volantis. Her words were a stark warning: defying Anakin Targaryen would result in their fiery demise.
Two of the Triarchs, Malaquo Maegyr and Doniphos Paenymion, felt the weight of her words and the undeniable power of Anakin. They exchanged glances, their fear evident, and then, in a display of submission, they knelt before him, declaring Anakin their king. Their capitulation was swift, a testament to their desire for self-preservation.
However, the third Triarch, Nyessos Vhassar, refused to yield. His face contorted with anger, he rose to his feet. "This man is an outsider!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the expanse of onlookers. "And you, Red Priestess, are a treasonous whore!"
Nyessos's objection was fueled by more than just pride and tradition. His fortune was deeply intertwined with the slave trade. Rumors had it that Nyessos had been bought by the Wise Masters of Yunkai, his loyalty secured by their gold. It was said he intended to use the Volantene fleet to launch an attack on Meereen, hoping to crush the upstart king and reclaim power.
Meanwhile, Anakin stood detached from the ceremony, his mind elsewhere. Visions from the flames danced in his thoughts, haunting and vivid. He recalled the vision in the flames, each one a fragment of a larger, more daunting puzzle. Despite the turmoil within, he remained a picture of calm, his eyes fixed on the rebellious Triarch.
The crowd held its breath, the tension palpable. Kinvara, unwavering, turned her gaze upon Nyessos. "You cannot defy the Lord of Light's will," she intoned, her voice like steel.
Viserys, his face flushed with intoxicated joy, stood amidst the scene, reveling in the drama. On the other hand, Ser Jorah maintained his vigilant stance, his eyes fixed on Anakin. The Valyrian words flowing from the High Priestess's lips were lost to him, but their significance was unmistakable. He observed as two of the Triarchs knelt, their submission clear, while the third raged uncontrollably, his fury palpable even as the Unsullied soldiers restrained him.
The scene was charged with tension and meaning. Jorah's curiosity was not on the unfolding drama of power but on the dragon eggs. Why had the Red Priestess brought them forth now, and what did it signify for Anakin?
As Nyessos Vhassar spits on the floor, Anakin's attention immediately snaps to the man. Their eyes lock, and Anakin's face turns stoic as he stares deeply into his gaze.
Through the power of the force, Anakin sees not just the man before him, but a reflection of his past actions. Memories flood his mind, reminding him of the brutal slavery system in Volantis and the strict laws that govern the interactions between nobles and slaves.
With this man embodying all of these injustices, Anakin's anger boils up inside, and without hesitation, he seizes the man's throat with the force, lifting him off the ground, while his right hand remains tightly clutching the red satchel of dragon eggs.
Ser Jorah and Viserys stood among the spectators, their eyes fixed and minds utterly captivated by the unfolding spectacle. Before them, a scene that bordered on the edge of magic - a grown man suspended in mid-air, seemingly defying the laws of gravity with no apparent support in sight.
Gasps and murmurs rippled through the onlookers as the impossible became reality before their very eyes. It was clear to everyone present that this incredible display was the work of Anakin, his left hand outstretched in a commanding gesture that conveyed his manipulation of whatever was strangling Nyessos.
Jorah's brow furrowed, his usual stoic demeanor momentarily shattered by the sheer impossibility of what he was witnessing. Beside him, Viserys's eyes widened with a mix of fascination and unease, a hint of apprehension shadowing his features as he comprehended the scene.
As the suspended figure struggled against the unseen force gripping his throat, the air crackled with tension. Jorah and Viserys exchanged a wordless glance, silently acknowledging the inexplicable power that now lay bare before them, embodied by Anakin.
The sight resembled a show, as he held his victim up for all to see. The hums of the crowd grew louder with whispers and murmurs, as they speculated on the fate of the rebellious Triarch.
"Last chance," Anakin's words, spoken in Valyrian, gave Nyessos one final opportunity to yield.
Anakin prayed that Kinvara's predictions were wrong, and he wouldn't have to fulfill her earlier request that she had whispered in his ear.
But as Nyessos's last breath escaped him, he uttered the damning phrases, "Go to hell, slave," sealing his fate.
The word 'slave' ignited a fiery rage within Anakin, and in a swift motion, he brought the man closer and dragged him by his collar into the raging bonfires behind him, taking the dragon eggs along with himself into the flames.
The reactions of the onlookers varied, from shock and horror to silence. The commoners, slaves, and Dothraki were in confusion, while the Unsullied were stoic in their observation, showing no emotion.
Ser Jorah and Viserys were stunned and speechless. In their eyes, it was unthinkable that the son of Rhaegar Targaryen would resort to the same ruthless tactics as the Mad King. And to make matters worse, he had walked into the flames right alongside his victim.
Viserys couldn't help but ask outloud, "Did… did he just kill himself?" The same question was on the minds of most of the onlookers, except for Kinvara and the Unsullied, who seemed unfazed by the events unfolding before her.
As the screams of Nyessos Vhassar's demise subsides, murmurs fill the air, questioning whether the supposed 'prince who was promised' had met as swift an end as his ascension.
In the midst of the silence, the three towering bonfires, arranged in a perfect equilateral triangle, suddenly intensify. The flames dance and flicker with a mesmerizing energy, casting intricate patterns of light and shadow. Sparks lift into the dark sky, carrying whispers of magic, but it is not until the fires begin to converge that the true spectacle unfolds.
With a mystical resonance that pulses through the air, the flames draw closer to Anakin, and their flames pulsate in unison. Slowly, steadily, the trio of bonfires merge into one colossal inferno, a beacon of light and heat that illuminates the entire clearing. Its intense heat creates a menacing aura over the surrounding landscape.
Then, from the very heart of the inferno, a figure emerges. As the flames grow higher, engulfing everything in their fiery embrace, the crowd holds their breath in awe and disbelief. It is Anakin, untouched by the searing heat dancing around him. Despite his robe being singed, his skin remained unharmed.
With an undeniable sense of power, he strides forward with his gaze focused and fierce. And there, amid the flickering flames, are three newborn dragons nestled around his body.
Those around gasp in astonishment, silenced by the incredible sight before them. It is a moment of wonder that defies logic and reason, a sight beyond comprehension. Anakin stands, a being of myth and legend, commanding the attention of all who see him. Amidst the fire that consumed the area, everyone was surprised to see Anakin emerge unscathed, especially since Nyessos Vhassar had just perished in that very fire.
Kinvara presented a golden crown and placed it gently on his head, followed by a solemn kneeled performance from her and the other clergy.
In awe, Ser Jorah and Viserys also knelt, amazed by the miraculous sight. They shared a knowing look, wondering what could have transpired in the smelting chamber with the priestess to lead to this turn of events. It was unexpected as Anakin had previously refused the idea of being crowned, yet now he not only wore a crown but also possessed three dragons.
With his head held high, Anakin descended the steps, walking through a sea of people with the infant dragons shrieking.
As the Unsullied tapped their spears in unison, and the Dothraki and individuals before him kneeled, gazing at the majestic beasts perched on his shoulders. Despite his aversion to being revered and efforts to limit his use of the force, he knew the people's support was crucial in his battle against slavery. It didn't matter to him whether they stood by him out of fear or reverence, as long as they joined him in his cause.
By combining their powers and knowledge, Kinvara and Anakin had successfully hatched Daenerys's three dragon eggs, gaining powerful allies for the fight against the impending darkness.
298 AC - In Volon Therys:
Three days have passed since Anakin's attack on Volantis, and Daenerys has yet to receive news in the city of Volon Therys.
Given his assurance that Volantis was just a day's journey and that he would summon her once the fighting was finished, she became anxious when she realized she should have heard from him by this point.
In their tent, her handmaiden, Doreah, was combing her hair and trying to reassure her. "You worry too much, my lady," she said.
But the Targaryen princess couldn't help but ask, "Well I don't know. How long does it take to conquer a city?" Having grown accustomed to a life of captivity, she spent her days consumed with worry.
The words of the Red Priestess, Kinvara, weighed heavily on her mind as she thought about the possibility of her nephew successfully hatching the dragon eggs. She was wary of Kinvara, but her nephew's trust in her convinced Daenerys to give her the eggs with the hope that they would come to life. However, deep down, she couldn't help but question if she was being too naive and trusting. But if it meant aiding Anakin in his battles, she was more than willing to oblige.
Unexpectedly, Daenerys received a summons from one of her Unsullied guards while getting ready in a traditional Dothraki outfit. He informs her that Volantis had been successfully conquered and that the king wanted them to leave for the city by the end of the day. The news brought a wave of relief, washing away her worry and doubts.
She turned to her loyal guard with gratitude shining in her eyes and exclaimed, "Thank you. We'll be ready as soon as possible." Her smile was genuine and radiant as she spoke.
Amidst her jubilation, a shadow lurked in the form of her ever-watchful lady-in-waiting. With a mischievous gleam in her eyes, Doreah playfully provoked Daenerys. "I didn't realize you cared so deeply for your brother," she teased with a knowing smirk.
Daenerys, usually composed, felt a pang of annoyance at the teasing. Her demeanor turned serious as she silenced Doreah with a stern look.
However, the handmaiden persisted in her playful banter. "Apologies, my lady. The king then?" she prodded, her tone light but inquisitive, as if trying to uncover the secrets hidden in the Princess's heart.
The mention of her nephew caused a blush to rise to her cheeks, revealing her true thoughts to the observant handmaiden. Caught off guard, Daenerys lowered her gaze in embarrassment, seeking refuge from Doreah's relentless teasing.
But the clever servant took advantage of her lady's vulnerability, a knowing look gracing her lips. "I've seen that look before," she remarked knowingly, her words hitting their mark precisely.
As Daenerys attempted to shield herself, Doreah playfully continued, urging her to face her feelings head-on. "You should tell him. He cares for you. We've all seen it," Doreah insisted, nudging her towards honesty and vulnerability.
Feeling exposed, Daenerys rose from her seat, determined to dismiss her handmaiden's jest. "We have no time for such matters," she declared firmly, her voice betraying her inner turmoil. "We should prepare to depart at once."
With that, she turned away, leaving behind Doreah's teasing whispers and her own conflicting emotions.
298 AC - In Volantis:
As Daenerys and her companions arrived in Volantis, a deep cloud hung over the once-proud city like a dark, heavy veil. The streets bore witness to a grim reality - the cobblestones stained with dried blood, evidence of the violence and despair that had ravaged these streets.
Making their way through the macabre scene, the flickering of ashes and the presence of lifeless bodies served as a haunting reminder of the recent turmoil that had consumed the city. Despite the devastation, life continued to thrive in the heart of Volantis. Amidst the chaos, a strange sense of tranquility filled the air, as if the city itself had come to terms with the recent battles.
The residents carried on with their daily routines with a determined calmness, undeterred by the horrors that surrounded them. This stark contrast between the destruction and the bustling commerce spoke to the impression Anakin had left on the people of Volantis. Many of them, once enslaved, now had the opportunity to build a new life for themselves through trade and commerce, their spirits unbroken by the chaos that had engulfed their home.
Daenerys, flanked by Unsullied guards and her handmaidens traversed the bustling streets of Volantis en route to the Red Temple, where she had been informed Anakin would be found.
As she neared the towering structure, its spires reaching towards the clouds, she stopped at the base of the stone steps, overcome with a sense of reverence. The air was heavy with the scent of incense and the distant murmur of whispered prayers.
Slowly ascending the steps, she caught sight of movement in the courtyard below. Two figures engaged in a duel, their swords flashing in the sunlight. Ser Jorah, unyielding and steadfast, faced off against her brother Viserys, his gaze ablaze with determination. For a fleeting moment, Daenerys considered interrupting their sparring session, amused by the sight of her brother struggling against the knight's skill. However, upon observing his focus and genuine desire to improve, she chose to let them continue and proceeded towards her destination.
Entering through the grand wooden doors of the temple, a cool darkness enveloped her. The interior was dimly lit, with foreboding red candlelight casting ghostly shadows on the walls.
Amidst the resonating echoes of their voices, Kinvara and Anakin sat around a table on the raised platform in the temple's grand hall. They both fixated their gazes on the parchment in front of them while Kinvara, with her regal composure, read aloud from a letter.
Anakin's attention briefly shifted towards the entrance as the doors swung open, triggering a spark of recognition within him. Rising from his seat, he strode across the expansive hall, his footsteps resounding in the stillness.
At the approach of her nephew, Daenerys's expression softened, and a warm smile graced her lips. They embraced with equal fervor, lost in the moment of reunion. As Daenerys looked over her nephew's shoulder, she caught a glimpse of the Red Priestess, Kinvara, with an approving glint in her eyes and a hint of amusement on her face.
However, the peaceful atmosphere was soon shattered by screeching cries, catching everyone's attention. Daenerys's heart skipped a beat as she spun around, her eyes widening in astonishment. There, at her feet, thrashed and writhed three baby dragons, their tiny wings fluttering.
She let out a breathless gasp at the sight before her. She turned to her nephew, her voice trembling with a mix of wonder and disbelief. "Annie," she implored, her eyes searching for answers, "You… you did it. How?"
Anakin's face lit up with pride and joy as he met her gaze. "It was Kinvara," he explained, his tone tinged with reverence. "Something about magical fires, blood, and prophecies, I don't know, I wasn't really paying attention. But it all seemed to work out, thanks to you."
"What're you thanking me for?" Daenerys was taken aback by his gratitude. She had not expected any recognition for her role in hatching the dragons.
His smile softened as he said, "Without you, we wouldn't have these dragons," kneeling beside her. With gentle hands, he lifted one of the baby dragons - a vibrant green creature adorned with bronze markings - and presented it to her.
Daenerys couldn't help but marvel at the tiny creature as it shimmered in the dim light of the temple. She reached out to touch it, feeling the warmth of its body. An overwhelming sense of affection filled her as she cradled the dragon in her arms, feeling awed and amazed.
"They were given to you. They belong to you," Anakin insisted, his voice firm but gentle as the remaining dragons nestled around her feet, seeking warmth and comfort in her presence.
But Daenerys shook her head, her resolve unshaken. "No," she protested, her voice strong with conviction. "You hatched them. They belong to you."
She couldn't accept the gift, not when she believed her nephew had earned it through his own merit. To claim ownership of the dragons would be to diminish his role in their creation, and Daenerys didn't want that.
"Well… I suppose if neither of us want them we could… give them to Viserys," Anakin quipped, a flicker of sarcasm in his gaze as he glanced teasingly at Daenerys.
A mix of amusement and incredulity crossed her features. Their playful banter erupted into soft chuckles soon after, a moment of levity amidst deliberations.
Anakin's playful smile faded as he addressed the matter of sharing the dragons. His voice turned earnest. "I'm serious though. Why don't we share them? Three for three," he suggested.
Daenerys's expression grew guarded at the thought of giving up even one dragon to Viserys. "You genuinely propose giving one to my brother?" she questioned, skepticism lacing her voice.
Anakin softened his gaze, reaching for the remaining dragons. One was adorned with intricate black and red markings, the other a captivating creamy white with gold accents. He offered them to his aunt with a gesture of deference.
Her gaze fell upon the dragons, contemplating her choices. Anakin's voice lowered with sincerity. "How about the white one? It's the prettiest one… suits you," he remarked, his warmth causing her to avert her gaze. A soft smile played on her lips, a rare glimpse of vulnerability breaching her usually controlled demeanor.
The Red Priestess's words about her nephew echoed incessantly in Daenerys' mind. Anakin's affection for her was evident, but she questioned its depth, wondering if it was merely familial or something more.
Embracing the emerald dragon, Daenerys reveled in its comforting warmth, sealing her resolve. "I think this one likes me," she stated softly yet firmly, embracing her decision to cherish it.
"How about… Rhaegal, a name befitting its lineage," she bestowed a name upon the dragon cradled in her arms, her voice gentle yet unwavering.
Anakin, his eyes aglow with awakened interest, pondered the name's significance, eager to grasp its deeper meaning.
"What about yours?" she asked him, her eyes gleaming with anticipation as she turned to him.
Anakin hesitated. "I guess I'll let Viserys choose first." A flicker of dismay shadowed his aunt's face.
"Listen, I know he's not your favorite person right now-" Anakin says, before she interjects with unanticipated vehemence.
"Not my favorite person?! He tried to pawn me off like… like some whore!" Daenerys exclaimed, her voice charged with indignation.
Anakin rubs his temple at the reminder of his uncle's betrayal, knowing all too well the questionable character of Viserys.
"Dany, I know," he began, his voice soft yet resolute as he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Listen, everyone is what they are and where they are for a reason. There are no accidents. I'm not asking you to forgive him. I'm asking you to give him a chance."
Daenerys met his gaze with a mixture of frustration and resignation, her anger simmering beneath the surface. "A chance for what? To kill us both in our sleep?" she retorted, her tone sharp with defiance.
"A chance for him to realize he is sorry," Anakin replied softly, his words laden with meaning as they lingered in the air between them. In that moment, the weight of their shared history hung heavy upon them, a silent reminder of the complexities of family and forgiveness.
For a minute, they exchanged a pensive glance, each lost in their own thoughts. But with a silent understanding, they let the matter rest, knowing that the path towards reconciliation would be long and arduous.
With the dragons nestled in their arms, Anakin subtly shifted the conversation. "Come here I want to show you something," he offered, his voice gentle.
Leading her up the podium, with the baby dragons trailing behind, he resumed his discussion with Kinvara regarding a letter from Meereen.
Kinvara, addressing Daenerys formally as, "Princess," elicited a humble reply of, "My Lady."
Anakin remained unaware of Kinvara's persuasion in convincing Daenerys to part with her dragon eggs. However, the revelation that she was seemingly involved with his aunt left him slightly unnerved. While he had faith in her, he also had a tendency to be excessively guarded when it pertained to his loved ones.
Anakin proceeds to update Daenerys on the upcoming event, but before he does the grand wooden entrance doors creak open again, heralding the entrance of Viserys and Ser Jorah, who stride forward to join the others around the table on the podium.
"Sister," Viserys approached Daenerys with a formal greeting, but she met his words with a chilling silence, her demeanor radiating palpable enmity.
His gaze fell on the emerald dragon clutched in her arms. "Well look at you," he said, a hint of envy in his voice. "You know he hasn't even let me touch them yet. Aren't you special?"
As they gathered around a table adorned with a detailed map outlining Anakin's travel plans, Ser Jorah interjected, "The Dothraki do not venture across the sea."
"I know that's why we won't be sailing," Anakin clarified. "We'll be riding through the Dothraki Sea, until we reach Vaes Dothrak, from there Meereen won't be far."
"Vaes Dothrak may not be as welcoming as you may think, Your Grace," warned Ser Jorah.
"I'm well aware of their customs," Anakin replied. "But… I am a Khal… technically. There's no reason for anything to go wrong," yet, his voice betrayed a hint of apprehension, for he had witnessed firsthand the Dothraki's savage nature. Even in a city where they swear no bloodshed it didn't mean they wouldn't kill.
With the plan finalized, they will all embark on their expedition in a few days, traveling northeast through the Dothraki Sea. Their destination: Vaes Dothrak.