The Iron Throne: Essos

[DKrol]

Drogo I

The hot sun gleamed off of the stallions of the Horse Gate as the great Khalasar passed beneath the hundred-foot high statues. 40,000 strong, the Khalasar of Khal Drogo was one of the largest and most fearsome in all of Essos. After spending a moons turn in Vaes Dathrak, the great city of the Dothraki Sea, Drogo was eager to lead his Khalasar back into the open planes and wild grasses.

Drogo and his Khaleesi led the great horde out of the Horse Gate, with his bloodriders close behind. As the Mother of Mountains began to shrink behind them, the Khal kicked his stallion into a full gallop. The warm wind whipped his long braid behind him, its bells jingling like the voices of small children at play. After a few minutes of this free riding, he remembered the Khaleesi, fat and pregnant, and worried he had left her behind. Wheeling his stallion around, he looked frantically through the throng of riders for her - her silver hair, her purple eyes, her silver mare. For a moment he was panicked. All his eyes saw was the dark hair and copper skin of the Dothraki. Then a laugh, sweet as honeyed wine, grabbed his attention, swinging his head back around. Sitting astride her fine silver horse a hundred yards ahead, Daenerys looked back at her husband, dust billowing around her, as she laughed, the wind pulling at her silk dress and her fine hair.

Drogo was taken aback by her beauty. He had not intended to love her when Illyrio proposed the idea. A Khal must has a Khaleesi to have a Khalakka and establish a legitimate line for his Khalasar for the day when he could no longer ride. But from their first night, when they first consummated their marriage, he had loved her. She provided a comfort and a calmness that he had never felt before in his nearly 30 years. Now she was with child, with his child, with his Khalakka.

When the Usurper's assassin was found in Vaes Dothrak, his love for her burned brighter and hotter than before. She was his and he would protect her from the man who killed her family and banished her from her home. He would lead his great Khalasar all the way West over the Narrow Sea and place his son upon the fabled Iron Throne. Drogo had never thought of the far away land of the Seven Kingdoms before he married Daenerys, and even then he had written off as a distant dream from a small girl longing for home. Now he had a reason to break the customs of the Dothraki and cross the open sea - Robert Baratheon has put a price on the head of the Khaleesi and his son.

Drogo realized he had been stopped for several minutes. He glanced around, his riders had halted behind him. None understood why they had stopped, but the snarls from the Khal's bloodriders kept any dissenters silent. He shook his head, knocking off the fog that had enveloped him, and kicked his horse into a gallop once more, bursting ahead towards the Khaleesi. As his stallion pulled even with her mare he stopped and addressed his Khalasar.

"While in Vaes Dothrak, in the shadow of the Mother of Mountains, on the shores of the Womb of the World, under the eyes of Dosh Khaleen, our Khalasar came under attack!" His words were repeated by his Ko and their lieutenants to ensure that all 40,000 members could hear, creating a hushed anxiety across the throng of men, women, horses, slaves, and children. "A man across the Narrow Sea, the Usurper, sent an assassin into our most sacred site and tried to kill the Khaleesi and my Khalakka." Angry shouts burst out throughout the Khalasar at this, taking the Kos several moments to regain order. Drogo waited, soaking in their anger. Surely, with this passion, they would support him in his quest to return his wife to her home. "That kind of action cannot stand! We will ride to the Seven Kingdoms, we will find the Usurper, we will end his false rule, and the Khaleesi and the Khalakka will sit on their rightful throne!" A roar of approval surged among the horde, a massive approval for Drogo's plan. Excellent, he thought. I have my Khalasar. Now comes the hard part.

Khal Drogo gave a shout of approval, wheeled his stallion to the west, and kicked it into a full gallop, Daenerys and her mare right beside him. A small band of riders were coming towards them, a billowing pillow of dust behind them. They were the scouts that Drogo had sent ahead, to find another Khalasar for them to assault, defeat, and absorb. For the battle that Drogo had promised, he would need to command the largest Khalasar to ever ride.

And he would do it for the one he called Moon of My Life.

[DKrol]

Drogo II

Soon, Khal Drogo thought, Soon we'll be ready to ride. After the brutal sacking of Sarnor at the hands of his Khalasar, Drogo has allowed a woven-grass hut village to be constructed for the Khaleesi after two days of riding. For hours she complained of pains between her legs, pains in her breasts, pains all over. Her handmaids explained that these are the signs of a well developed child, but Drogo only grew irritated. The Dothraki were made to ride the open plains, not plot along at the pace of a burdened-down woman.

But he had consented to halting the Khalasar, now more than 42,000 strong, until the pregnancy was over, as the handmaids assured him it would be soon. Stopping for a few days was a small price to pay for the Stallion that Rides the World, they had told him. By the end of the week the fiercest warrior to ever ravage the earth would be born and the Khalasar would ride. Ride all the way to the Free Cities. Across the Narrow Sea. To the fabled Seven Kingdoms. With each passing day, Khal Drogo thought the journey was becoming longer and more difficult than he had originally realized it would be. But the Khaleesi had been wronged by the Kingslayer and the Usurper and for that they would pay, no matter how far the ride.

But is my Khalasar enough. Every night since he had promised to sit the Stallion who Rides the World on the chair of his grandfather Drogo had asked himself the same question - is my Khalasar enough? The knights of the Seven Kingdoms were renowned for their fine armor and their castle-forged blades. The Dothraki could defeat any army in an open field, with their swift stallions and double-curved bows, but could they take a castle? According to the Khaleesi, every lord and knight in the Seven Kingdoms has a castle with 50-foot stone walls and iron gates. When Aegon had done his conquering, he had dragons. Unfortunately for the Khalasar, the only dragons left were the Khaleesi and Khal Rhae Mhar.

Lucky, we will not be alone when we reach the Seven Kingdoms Drogo told himself. When the loyal lords - the ones who fought with the Khaleesi's father at the Trident, the ones who sew dragon banners in the dark of night in hopes of the Targaryen return - see the mightiest Dothraki Khalasar holding the black-and-red three-headed dragon high, they'll take up arms for their rightful king. The Khaleesi had spent hours training the Khal of the many houses of the Seven Kingdoms and their allegiances, as Khal Rhae Mhar had taught her. House Darry in the Riverlands, House Redwyne in the Reach, House Grandison in the Stormlands, and all of Dorne with House Nymeros Martell. And, if everything went according to plan, the loyal Houses would not be the only knights to raise their swords with the Khalasar, Khal Drogo mused to himself as he looked out over the swarming sea of his Khalasar.

The Khal's musing was interrupted by a great scream. A commotion broke out from the Khaleesi's tent, with the Khaleesi's bloodriders, who had been standing guard outside, rushing in with their weapons drawn. Drogo stood, panic breaking across his face. He grabbed his arakh, ready to destroy whomever had hurt the Khalessi.

And then a weak, wobbly wail emitted from the tent.

[DKrol]

Drogo III

Khal Drogo sat next to the woven-grass bed of the Khalakka, the babe sleeping peacefully. Rhaego, Drogo thought Such a strange name. Certainly not a Dothraki name, but the Khaleesi was determined to honor her brother. The child had Drogo's dark hair, already sprouting a healthy crop, and the Targaryen eyes, a violent and mysterious purple. The child had cried little during his birth, one large wail to alert the world to his arrival, and laughed more, the joyous tinkle breaking through air whenever he saw the twinkling of the bells in his father's hair. Little does the boy know the meaning of these bells, of this long hair, Drogo thought as he ran his hand over his sleeping son's hair, But he soon shall.

His bloodrider Haggo burst into the babe's tent. "Blood of my blood." Haggo gave a curt bow, his eyes showing an urgency that bore no time for formalities.

"Blood of my blood." Drogo took one more look at his son, envisioning him mounting a great stallion and leading the largest Khalasar from the mountains of Dorne to the Land of Always Winter, before standing and leading Haggo out of the tent. "Your eyes tell me this is not conversation for the ears of such a young babe, even if he is the Stallion that Rides the World."

"Yes, blood of my blood. A scout has returned from the edges of the Volantene holdings with important news. Khal Rhae Mhar has offered to you a parley at the gates of Volantis."

"Parleys are for the annointed knights of the Seven Kingdoms." Khal Drogo snickered at the idea of such a great Khal, with a mighty army, sitting at a table with the petulant Khal Rhae Mhar, who had disrespected the Dothraki traditions and dishonored the values of Vaes Dothrak. I'd be more likely to stab him myself than sit through his parley. "Khal Rhae Mhar is a weak man, unskilled in combat and untested in battle. I spit on his Westerosi customs."

"As you say, blood of my blood." Haggo was always the definition of polite, despite being a savage warrior and a fiercely loyal bloodrider.

"Ride with me." Drogo led his bloodrider to the patch where his red stallion had been grazing, mounting the massive horse in a swift motion. Haggo took another horse that had been grazing nearby. Drogo kicked his stallion hard, sending it into a full gallop across the Dothraki camp, kicking up dust and sending his followers running out of the path. Haggo rode his horse hard to keep up with the Khal. The two rode up the heart of the camp and then broke to the west, where a tributary of the Rhoyne, the Volaena, flowed South. Drogo stopped at its banks, allowing his horse to take a drink from the cool, clean water.

"Did you see the comet make its way across the Khalasar in the Sky?" Drogo asked Haggo, looking out across the Voleana. It was a large river, not as large as the Rhoyne and no where close to the width of the Narrow Sea, but it would be the first water the Khalasar would have to cross to put Rhaego on the Iron Throne.

"Yes, blood of my blood. It was wondrous."

"The Khaleesi told me that the red comet heralds the coming of the dragon." Drogo had laughed when Danaerys had first told him her theory, but it had grown on him after spending time with Rhaego. "There was a great fire at one of the castles of the Targaryens when her brother, the warrior Rhaegar, was born. The great fire for the Khalakka came from the sky, from the Khalasar of the Great Stallion."

"He is truly the Stallion who Rides the World, blood of my blood."

"Speak frankly with me, blood of my blood." Khal Drogo was surrounded by loyal voices, but he often needed honest voices more dearly. "Will our Khalasar be victorious at Volantis?" Haggo did not reply immediately. Drogo looked at him and saw he was torn between his loyalty to the Khal and his command to speak frankly. "I told you to speak freely."

"Blood of my blood, I do not know. Khal Rhae Mhar has 3,000 of the eunuch Unsullied with him, with whatever forces the Volantene have mustered. 3,000 of the Unsullied defeated a great Khalasar in Qohor in the Century of Blood but even the Great Khalasar of Khal Temmo was small compared to yours, blood of my blood. He had only 25,000 warriors. Yours numbers more than double that figure and are surely fiercer and with a great cause, for all members of the Khalasar revere the Khalakka and want to see him placed on the iron chair of the Seven Kingdoms."

"What of the Volantene?"

"The Volantene are the unknown factor, blood of my blood. If they welcome Khal Rhae Mhar, I am worried for our fate. Even the mightiest horse cannot climb a wall like a monkey. If the Volantene turn their swords on Khal Rhae Mhar, we are nearly assured victory, for there is no chance of 3,000 Unsullied defeating both the forces of Volantis and our mighty Khalasar, blood of my blood."

Drogo did not respond. He took one last look across the Volaena, wheeled his horse around, and rode hard back to the camp. He had to devise a great strategy to defeat Khal Rhae Mhar, making the Khaleesi and the Khalakka the undisputed heirs to the Iron Throne, destroy the Volantene, giving the Khalasar the slaves needed for the Tyroshi fleet, and protect enough Dothraki lives to give Rhaego the army he needs to sit the chair of his grandfather.

For the Stallion that Rides the World it would be done.

[DKrol]

Drogo IV

"The Archon is a greedy, greedy man, blood of my blood." Cohollo growled, the oldest of the Khal's bloodriders and the most likely to speak freely.

Khal Drogo and his bloodriders were surging towards Myr, the free city on the heel of Essos, the mighty Khalasar riding behind them. Cohollo and Qotho rode to their Khal's left, Haggo to his right, all shouting to be heard of the sounds of the Khalasar - horses, warriors, carts, dogs, and slaves.

"Greedy, but a worthy man of alliance." Drogo hollered back. "We lost many great men at the walls of Volantis and the Archon has offered to replenish our numbers and more." We will need every man, every horse, every sword, every bow, every prayer, Drogo thought To sit Rhaego on the Iron Throne.

Drogo had spent many, many hours thinking about the promise he had made the Khaleesi, to return herself and the Khalakka to the throne of the Seven Kingdoms. How foolish I had been to make such a grandiose promise. The Dothraki horselords were men of practicality, grandiosity in Essos was left to the fat Magisters of Pentos. The Dothraki have no ships and have no experience laying siege to the great keeps of Westeros. But, Drogo thought, The Fiery Stallion has looked favorably upon our mission so far. The Red Comet, their success attacking Volantis, their victories over many smaller Khalasars, the deal with Archon Moreo Selheris, all signs, for Drogo at least, of some divine blessing on their campaign.

As Khal Drogo and the bloodriders crested a small hill, they reigned their stallions to a halt. Drogo wheeled his mount around to face his Khalasar. Fewer than before Volantis, but stronger and more loyal than any Khalasar before, he thought as a hush fell over the hoard beneath him. "Dothraki! Soon we will ride on King's Landing and crush the Usurper, who tried to kill our Khaleesi!" He saw her silver hair glinting in the sun within the mass of flesh. He had ordered her to begin riding in the midst of the host, with the Khalakka, to give them the most protection.

"But first we have one final quest here in the East. Some of you will ride with Ko Jhaqo into the Disputed Lands and drive out the Myrish and Lysene occupiers of what is Tyroshi land. The rest will ride with me on Myr." Anytime a Khal had to divide his Khalasar it made him uneasy, but it had to be done. Ko Jhaqo had proven himself a competent lieutenant during the sacking of Valysar and Drogo trusted him once more to lead the expeditionary force into the Undisputed Lands. "We will meet once more once the fields of Myr have been salted and the buildings razed! For the Stallion Who Rides the World!"

"For the Stallion Who Rides the World!" The Khalasar shouted in one voice as Drogo raised his fist into the air. He turned his horse around and kicked it into a hard gallop.

First Volantis, now Myr, then the Undisputed Lands, and soon the Iron Throne.