The Heat of Dorne Chapter 9 (Patreon)

The smell was the first thing that Arianne noticed as she and her ladies approached Hugorton.  She had smelled death many times now, having been downwind from the battles her husband and his men had fought more than once, but it had never been this bad.  Daemon had said that this one was going to be the largest yet, so much so that he had sent them off to the Silence just in case it went poorly, something that he hadn’t bothered doing since the first time.  The rider had come a day earlier to inform them that the largest Khalasar that they had faced yet had met the same fate as the others.

“Seven hells, that’s awful,” Arianne complained.

“What is?” Tyene asked.

“The smell,” Arianne replied. “I swear it’s much worse than normal.”

“It’s the smell of a battlefield,” Nymeria said, shrugging. “It smells as bad as any other.”

“You seriously don’t think that it’s worse than…” Arianne went to ask.

“Open the gate; it’s the princess!” a man shouted from the watchtower.

Arianne took in the sight of the village that had been her home for the last several moons and let out a sigh of relief.  She just wanted to get inside her newly finished keep and see her husband.  Although the rider had told her that Daemon and Obara were alright, she never felt peace after a battle until she had seen them.  Thankful for her horses so that she didn’t have to wade through the blood and gore herself, the princess made her way through the gatehouse.

“I still think the smell is wretched,” Bellegere said.

“But not worse than it usually is?” Arianne asked.

“No,” Missandei replied before Bellegere could, “it’s just as bad as it always is.”

Bellegere nodded, and Arianne just shook her head.  That was strange, but she had more important things to focus on just then.

The sound of rythmic slapping of skin on skin and high-pitched grunting and moaning reached them as they grew close to the bedchambers, and Bellegere laughed.

“You would have thought they’d be done by now,” she said. “They’ve had a whole day.”

“Daemon’s used to fucking all six of us,” Nymeria purred. “Poor Obara’s limped for a week the last time that she had to handle him alone.”

Opening the door to their bedchambers, Arianne’s eyes widened at the sight she found.  Daemon was holding Obara back against him as he sat on their bed with his arms hooked under her knees and her feet held behind her ears.   He was pounding her cunt from underneath her as her creamy wetness dripped down his shaft and along his balls.  The woman’s green eyes looked hooded and unfocused, as though she were barely clinging to consciousness.  A string of wordless moans and cries spilled from her lips, and she didn’t seem to be capable of more than that.

“Finally,” Daemon said, smirking at them.

He stopped fucking Obara and rolled over, making sure that she was lying comfortably on the bed next to him before he pulled his massive cock out of her gaping, well-stretched womanhood.  Arianne rubbed her thighs together at the sight of his glistening length and the thick, white seed spilling from Obara.  They had clearly been at that for a while, though one wouldn’t know it just looking at him.

Daemon stood up and walked towards them, his heavy cock bobbing as he went, and Arianne felt the others starting to undress her.  She was too focused on him to help, though.  Her husband had been a large man when they met, towering over her easily.  He had been the same height as her uncle then and of a similar build, though slightly less broad.  He had been a man grown, but he clearly still had some growing to do, and in the harsh conditions they had lived through over the last several moons, with a battle every other week and a diet of horse meat, he had done so.

He stood at six and a half feet tall now and had grown very broad, with bull-like shoulders, a thick, muscular neck, and huge, strong arms.  The rest of him was just as impressively built, and it was all Arianne could do most days to stop herself from climbing him like a tree.  The handful of scars that he had earned fighting the Dothraki had only added to his appeal, as had the beard he had grown, and she found herself getting wet just at the sight of him most days recently.

“Wife,” he growled as he approached her, his purples black with lust.

“Husband,” she replied in kind, clenching her thighs together as she felt her core throb.  All memory of the battlefield left her as she took in scents of a very different, far more pleasant kind.

“Obara?” Bellegere asked, walking over to the insensate woman and reaching down to drink his seed from her gaping cunt.

“She’s going to be out of it for a while,” Daemon chuckled. “I might have gone slightly too far.”

“She’s the one who wants to be fucked until she sounds slow after a battle,” Tyene giggled as she helped undress Missandei.

“Ah!” Missandei gasped as Nymeria sucked on her nipples. “She’s experienced it before.”

“Even if she’s crippled tomorrow, she’ll grin from ear to ear,” Nymeria purred.

“You know you take good care of us,” Arianne cooed, reaching up to cup his face and feel his dark beard.

He placed his hand over hers and chuckled, saying, “I take it you want the same kind of care?”

“You know I do,” Arianne purred, and then squealed when he picked her up and kissed her deeply.

Her tongue met his as they poured every ounce of their passion into the embrace, and she moaned into his mouth.  They had been apart for only a couple days, and yet she felt herself yearn for him terribly.  If they ever had to spend significant time away from each other, the heat between them when they were reunited might light their bed aflame, if they even made it to a bed.  She wrapped her legs around his waist and hooked her arms around his head as he carried her to the bed, placing her down next to Obara.

“Turn over,” he ordered her, and she felt her cunt flutter at his tone.

Doing as he said and sticking her ass up into the air, Arianne cried out when one of his large, strong hands came down onto his arse and buried her face in the mattress, wet with Obara’s juices, when he buried his face in her weeping sex.  She moaned loudly as he feasted on her cunt, using every bit of experience with her over the last couple years to make her soar towards her peak.  She had no idea what was the matter with her lately, but she had found herself wetter and more desperate for sex than normal.

“Ah, fuck!” Arianne cried, digging her fingers into the bedding as her thighs began to tremble. “That’s so good!”

“Gods, are you close already?” Daemon asked. “Did you lot not take care of her the last couple days?”

“We did,” Nymeria insisted, poking her head up from between Missandei’s thighs.

“She’s been...oh, fuck just like that...insatiable, lately,” Tyene moaned as she rode the Naathi woman’s face.

“Tis true,” Bellegere giggled next to him, grabbing his cock and stroking it lightly. “We made her crest again and again, and it just didn’t help.”

“I just missed your cock, is all,” Arianne insisted as she looked back at them.

“Well, I’ll just have to fix that,” Daemon chuckled. “Roll over, and you can pay Bellegere back for trying so hard to take care of you.”

“Gladly,” Arianne breathed, crooking a finger over at Bellegere.  The gorgeous former courtesan grinned lasciviously at her, crawled over, and straddled her face, letting her dripping wet cunt hover above Arianne’s eager mouth. “Fuck me, my love.”

“Anything for you,” Daemon said, lining himself up with her overheated core and pushing inside.

Arianne grunted at the familiar stretching feeling and dug her fingers into Bellegere’s thick, soft thighs as she pulled her seeping sex down to taste her.  Teasing the other woman’s glistening folds with her tongue, she cried out as she felt him bottom out inside her.  His cock hadn’t gotten any longer than it was the first time, thank the gods, but she swore it had grown thicker.  She was well-used to his size by now, and he didn’t have to wait long to start fucking her with the kind of long, deep thrusts that she adored.

“By the gods, your tongue is divine,” Bellegere moaned, grinding her cunt on Arianne’s mouth.

“Isn’t it just?” Daemon asked, and Arianne swore that she could hear his smile, though Bellegere’s magnificent ass was all that she could see.  She tightened her legs around him as he continued fucking her, pushing her ever closer to her peak.

When Daemon began kneading her breasts, Arianne yelped.

“Ari?” Daemon asked, and Bellegere rose up to let her speak.

“Sorry, it’s just that my breasts are strangely sensitive right now,” she said.

“They were yesterday too,” Bellegere said.

“It’s probably nothing,” Arianne said dismissively. “Just be gentle with them.”

She pulled Bellegere back down and swirled her tongue around the other woman’s clit, making her cry out.  The sounds of Tyene, Nymeria, and Missandei fucking were growing louder as Arianne’s increasingly desperate moans were drowned out by the woman sitting on her face.  Daemon fucked her harder, picking up his pace as he knew she was getting close and changing his angle slightly.  Arianne sucked Bellegere’s clit into her mouth, wanting to finish the other woman off before she reached her own peak.

“Fuck!” Bellegere cried, writhing on her face as she came undone.  Arianne drank her fluids eagerly, loving the taste as much as ever.

Daemon moved her legs up to his shoulders, changing the angle again as he increased his pace.  The new angle let him hit one of her favorite spots inside her, and the second she felt his bulbous head slip inside that little madness-inducing pocket, she shrieked into Bellegere.

“Ugh, gods!” Daemon groaned as she came around him, massaging his cock with the rythmic spasms of her cunt.  She felt him spill inside her even as pleasure continued to course through her.

The three of them collapsed in a heap as their orgasms subsided, with Daemon pulling out and lying down next to the two of them.  Bellegere fell forward without him there to prop her up, and she started lapping up his seed as it flowed from Arianne’s cunt.

“You and Obara...had been fucking...for a while,” she gasped as he settled next to her.

“Yes,” Daemon said. “I would have stopped when she stopped using words, but I was too close.”

“And you still managed to make me see stars,” Arianne cooed, running her fingers through his hair.

“Always,” he replied with a smirk.

“Fucking hells, that was good,” Bellegere groaned as she rolled off of Arianne to join a sleeping Obara.

“Can I go next?” Missandei asked, walking over to them and leaving Tyene and Nymeria, who were curled up together, their faces buried between each other’s thighs, behind her.

“As soon as I’m capable,” Daemon replied, pointing to his wilting cock.

Missandei took the hint and immediately crawled into bed, taking his cock between her lips and working to get him hard again.  Arianne kissed Daemon deeply, already looking forward to watching him fuck their newest lover again.

*****

Daemon observed the battlefield with equal parts eagerness and concern.  As with every Khalasar before them, he had known well before hand that they were coming, his regular flights looking through Brynden’s eyes remaining an invaluable asset.  The difference this time was the size, as this was by far the largest Khalasar yet.  This Khal, a man around his father’s age, apparently named Drogo, had gathered together at least fifty thousand riders and was driving towards Hugorton with a single purpose: to wipe them out.

Daemon had fought countless Dothraki at this point, having lured over a score of Khalasars to their doom.  Quickly after they dispatched the first group, Babko Jatt gave him the idea to send emissaries out to the other Khalasars, offering them large rewards for attacking Hugorton.  There turned out to be others among the former slaves who spoke the harsh tongue of the horselords and bore their former masters no love.  It hadn’t been difficult to find volunteers, eager for revenge, who were willing to go out and lure other Khals into the trap.

This Drogo had not been one of the Khals who had been lured by promises of gold and slaves, though.  Daemon had kept an eye on every emissary who had been sent out, and none had approached this particular Khalasar.  The near-constant rage on the face of the Khal and the speed at which the massive force approached suggested that there was something personal about this.  Daemon guessed that Drogo had learned about just how many other Khals had fallen to his forces and taken it personally.

“So, why are we changing our tactics?” Edric asked next to him. “It’s worked on so many Khalasars now.”

“We probably aren’t,” Daemon said. “The trap has worked well enough so far, and the terrain around Hugorton remains as hostile to cavalry forces as ever.  I just wanted a cavalry force of my own in case any of these cunts escape, because this Khalasar is so large.”

They were hidden well away from Hugorton, behind a number of small hills in the opposite direction from where the Khalasar was coming.  Daemon had checked with Brynden a few times to see if the Khal was sending scouts anywhere near their position, but he had stopped bothering to send scouts at all after they spied the unsullied and Obara waiting for them.  Even knowing that other Khalasars had fallen here, if Daemon was correct about Drogo’s motive, the Dothraki still saw infantry formations as something to mock.

He heard the horns sounding from the watchtowers and ordered the men to move closer.  Once the Dothraki were engaged with his other forces, he wouldn’t have to worry about being spotted as much.  Once he had a line of sight on the Khalasar, he let out a low whistle.  He had seen them many times from the air, having to dodge arrows more than once, and knew that it was a very large group of mounted warriors, but seeing them gather on the hill where so many Khalasars before them had gathered before charging down into their doom really made clear how much bigger this particular group was.

Hundreds of horsemen charged forward, bows at the ready, and started raining arrows down on his forces.  Daemon couldn’t see how it turned out, but the reaction of the Dothraki told him all that he needed to know.  The mounted archers returned to the others, and Daemon held his breath for a moment as he waited for the Khal’s next move.  The order must have been given because the next thing he knew, the sound of tens of thousands of screaming men and thundering hooves filled the air as the Khalasar spilled into the clearing, filling it entirely as they sought to surround and destroy the forces holding against them.

The Khalasar ground to a halt as they fell into the same sort of traps that had killed so many of their brethren.  Daemon and his men had had moons to improve the traps and set more, the whole area, save for narrow paths that the people of Hugorton knew well, having been turned into a giant death trap.  Daemon saw his men spill from their tunnels and move to surround the Khalasar, and he grinned.  There were a fair few Dothraki in the back who weren’t trapped in the clearing and were starting to pull back towards the hill.

A man with exceptionally long hair was among them, which gave Daemon pause.  There had been a few Khals who led from the back, and apparently this Drogo was one of them.  If Daemon was the Khal, he would lead the few hundred men who could still move freely and charge them into the enemy’s rear to try and free the rest of his trapped men.  That was something that Daemon couldn’t allow to happen.

“Charge!” he roared to his men, drawing Nightsister and urging his charger onward.

The Dothraki, already reeling from how badly they had been outmaneuvered, noticed Daemon and his men a hair too late to meet the charge.  Nightsister cleaved through the head of the first man Daemon met as the others met the Dothraki head-on.  Taken aback, the Dothraki still proved themselves to be capable warriors and adapted to the sudden change quickly.

Daemon saw one of his men taken down quickly, an arakh beheading his horse, and another mounted warrior trampling him under hoof as he fell.

“Andal!” an enraged roar came from his right, so loud that it could be heard over the chaos of battle.

Daemon turned and saw the man he had noticed before, the one he thought to be this Khal Drogo, charging towards him, and grinned.  The man had his arakh high in the air and was screaming like a madman as he came to kill him.  His long braided hair, full of bells, flapped behind him as he moved, adding to the racket.  Daemon urged his horse forward to meet his foe head-on, cursing as he realized that his opponent was left-handed and would have the advantage.  The Khal passed on his left, swinging right at his head, and Daemon ducked under the blow.  In a split second before they would have passed each other, Daemon caught sight of the man’s braid and reached out.  Wrapping a gauntleted hand around the long braid, he pulled with all his strength.

Drogo’s head lurched back, and his neck may well have broken, but before it could, Daemon brought Nightsister across and sliced his head clean off.  Swinging the head of the once-mighty khal around in circles at his side, Daemon laughed at finally getting a chance to take advantage of those ridiculously long braids.  He had always thought that they were a terrible idea for a warrior and that there were numerous ways that they could be a great weakness, but the method he had used to fight them had limited his ability to make use of it.  He had finally proven himself right and could enjoy that.  Looking down at the gruesome prize dangling from his hand, Daemon just shook his head and tossed it away.  As he observed the battlefield, he noticed that few of the escaped Dothraki remained alive.  Even the three cunts who always went mad after a khal was killed didn’t show up, either being stuck in the death trap or dead somewhere around him.

He turned towards Hugorton, seeing that his men had started closing in on their captured prey, and turned to join the fray once more.

BLAAARGH

Daemon woke with a start at the sound of retching and turned to see Arianne with her head over a chamber pot.  Getting up, he moved to her quickly, pulling her long, black hair back and rubbing her shoulder comfortingly.  She continued to throw up for a little while, waking the rest of their lovers in the process.

“This is the third morning in a row,” Nymeria grumbled, still waking up.

“Truly?” Daemon asked, his concern clear in his voice.

“I’m fine!” Arianne croaked, turning and sitting down on the floor.

“Ari, it is getting worrying,” Tyene said.

“The last couple days I’ve felt fine the moment this passed, and it only happened in the morning,” Arianne said, still calming down. “I’m just sick of the fucking horse meat.”

“And that’s making you retch?” Daemon asked in disbelief.

“It’s just like that time Uncle Oberyn went out hunting and brought back a boar every day for a week,” Arianne said. “There was this particularly stupid group of hogs in the lands near the Water Gardens, and my uncle managed to kill one daily for a while.  We feasted every day on boar meat, and by the sixth day, I was as sick as I’ve ever been.  We’ve been eating little other than horse meat for many a moon now.  I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner.”

“If you’re sure,” Daemon said, still not certain.

“I am,” Arianne said. “If I could get a nice deer to break up the monotony, it would likely help.”

“Well, we could do that, but I have good news on the horse front,” Daemon said. “That was the final Khalasar.”

“What?” Obara asked.

“I’ve been flying over the Great Grass Sea for a while now,” Daemon said. “It has been weeks since I saw any Khalasars other than this last one.  I suspect that Khal Drogo learned of what had been happening here and managed to consolidate the last of the cunts under his command.”

“So it’s over,” Arianne said, sounding pleased.

“This went much further than you anticipated,” Missandei pointed out.

“That’s putting it lightly,” Daemon agreed. “I expected that after we destroyed a few of them, the rest would figure out that attacking us was a bad idea, and I wouldn’t be able to lure any more in.  Instead, because the Dothraki were such a disorganized front from the start, I managed to lure most of them in before the rest learned what I had been doing, and by the time they did, the remaining ones weren’t enough to defeat us.”

“So are we going back to Dorne?” Bellegere asked.

“Well, that’s the issue,” Daemon said. “The fleet can’t transport all of us and the Dothraki women at once, plus we’ll need to figure out a way to convince them to make that journey.”

“That actually won’t be much of a problem,” Missandei said. “I’ve been working on persuading them that the sea can be traversed, and it turns out that between hearing us most nights and the tales that have spread about Edric, most of the women, at least the ones who were with us before yesterday, are willing to risk it for the men who await them in Dorne.”

“I wonder where that squire of mine is,” Daemon mused. “Usually he’d have been here by now.”

“Buried under a pile of soft, bronze-colored flesh, I suspect,” Nymeria snorted.

“Well, if most of them are already willing, then they can be sent, though if you want to return immediately…” Daemon trailed off.

“I just want to eat something other than horse meat for a while,” Arianne said, rubbing her stomach. “Sending the women and the loot ahead would probably be for the best.”

“Perfect,” Daemon said, quite pleased. “In that case, I have one last Essosi adventure for us.”

“If you say Valyria, I’m going with the women,” Tyene said.

“Vaes Dothrak,” Daemon replied.

“Who?” Obara asked.

“Vaes Dothrak is the Dothraki city,” Missandei said.

“You want to sack it?” Nymeria asked.

“I don’t see why not,” Daemon said. “Their warriors are dead, and their women are on their way to Dorne.  All that should be left there are their slaves and whatever passes for leadership among them.  I really didn’t expect to be this successful against them, but if I’m going to crush them utterly, I might as well hit their city as well.”

“Who knows what kind of treasures they could have squirreled away there?!” Arianne exclaimed.

“My thoughts exactly,” Daemon said, grinning, pleased by his wife’s enduring love of shiny things.

“How far away is Vaes Dothrak?” Bellegere asked.

“According to the maps I’ve looked at, it’s rather far,” Daemon admitted. “We would have to pass by Qohor on the way.  The most direct route would take us far to the south of Norvos, though we could take a more scenic route if you wanted to stop in there.”

“No,” Arianne said flatly.

“Fair enough,” Daemon murmured, wincing.  The two of them had discussed her mother only a couple times, and while he figured she’d be unwilling to visit the older woman, it was still worth offering.

“How soon do we leave?” Nymeria asked, eager to change the subject.

“Today, preferably,” Daemon said. “I ordered the men to gather sufficient supplies for the journey.  I’ll be leaving a couple thousand Unsullied here under Edric’s command and taking the rest of the army east with us.”

“You think he’s ready for that?” Arianne asked.

“He’s shown remarkable growth over the last year...” Daemon said.

“The Dothraki seem to agree,” Tyene snickered, earning a flat look from him.

“I think a taste of command would be good for him,” Daemon continued. “It’s not as though he’s likely to face many dangers here with the Khalasars taken care of.”

“Alright,” Arianne said, looking through her chests for something to wear, “but after this, we are returning home, right?”

“Yes,” Daemon said, starting to get dressed. “I promise.”

He finished putting on clothes and went off in search of his squire.  Reaching the boy’s room, he threw open the door and saw a pile of bodies resting together.  The room smelled like a whorehouse, and Daemon couldn’t help but snort.

“Edric!” he bellowed, startling the entire room awake.  Feminine groans and cries filled the air, but the funniest was the yelp let out by Edric himself.

“My prince!” he exclaimed, throwing his arm across a pair of very shapely breasts belonging to one of his Dothraki lovers.

“Boy, if I see something in here I haven’t seen before, I’ll throw a gold dragon at it,” Daemon drawled. “Get dressed and meet me at the forge.  We have much to discuss.”

“Yes, Prince Daemon,” Edric said, blushing.

Daemon shook his head and made his way over to the small building that Babko Jatt had turned into a smithy, pleased to see the man already awake and hard at work.

“Good morrow, my prince,” the man said jovially as he noticed him. “I have it finished, just as I promised.”

Placing his hammer down, he headed inside and emerged a moment later with a truly stunning piece of work.  The shaft was intricately carved from a piece of Goldenheart wood that one of the Khals had been given, and the blade was a dark gray with the distinct rippling pattern of Valyrian steel.  The dagger that he had killed the mutated priest with turned out to be a rather awkward thing, too long to be a dagger and too short to be much else.  Nymeria had tried it out and liked the look of it, but found it unpleasant to wield.  When Daemon found the rare piece of wood, he figured that the blade might be useful as the head of a spear instead.

“I doubt there’s a greater spear in all the world, my prince,” Babko said.

“Nor a more expensive one,” Daemon chuckled as he tested the balance of the new weapon.

“Prince Daemon,” Edric said as he arrived. “By the gods, that’s exquisite!”

“A gift for my wife’s family,” Daemon said.

“A way to apologize to Prince Doran in case he doesn’t appreciate the Dothraki?” Edric asked.

“Most men would appreciate tens of thousands of women being dropped on his doorstep,” Daemon drawled.

“I’m sure Prince Oberyn will enjoy many of them, but your good father might be bothered by the sheer number,” Edric said.

“He’ll appreciate all of the treasure more,” Daemon said.  Turning to Babko, he said, “this is fantastic work.  Have you decided whether or not you’ll settle in Sunspear?  We could use a man of your skill.”

“I have, my prince,” Babko replied. “You freed me from those monsters, and for that I am most grateful, but beyond that, living among the men you brought with you, I have come to enjoy your people and would be happy to go with them.  It is not as though I could return to Qohor.”

“As I say, a man of your abilities will find a great deal of work,” Daemon said.

With that, Daemon took the spear and led Edric on a walk through the small town.  It was a far cry from the state Daemon had found it in when he first arrived.  Though still nothing extraordinary, Hugorton was a proper settlement by then, and there was even a proper sept.  It would be abandoned soon, and the sept would become a sort of shrine for pilgrims run by the men of the Faith, but the prince could take pride in how well the entire place had turned out.

“Our time in Essos is coming to an end,” Daemon said.

“Truly?” Edric asked.

“Yes,” Daemon replied. “The Khalasars have been crushed; we’ve accomplished far more than I ever expected, and it is high time that we return home.  We do have a couple things to do first, of course.”

“The women and treasure have to be transported back,” Edric said. “I’ve spoken to several Dothraki women who are more willing to make the journey than they used to be.”

“You actually found time to talk to them?” Daemon asked, barking a laugh when Edric flushed.

“I’ve been learning their tongue,” Edric said, turning redder as he realized how he’d worded that.

Daemon decided to take mercy on his squire and changed the subject, saying, “I’m leaving you in charge here.”

“What?” Edric asked, sounding surprised.

“I’m going after Vaes Dothrak,” Daemon said. “I hate to leave a task unfinished, and the city is largely undefended.  You will oversee the transportation operation and the gradual abandonment of Hugorton.  I’ll be leaving you two thousand of the Unsullied to help defend the place, though I doubt you’ll be faced with many threats at this point.”

“I won’t fail you,” Edric said, bowing his head.

“I know you won’t,” Daemon said, placing a reassuring hand on Edric’s shoulder. “Coordinate everything with Andrey.”

“I will,” Edric said, heading off to begin setting things up.

Daemon returned to his keep, and found Arianne lounging with Tyene, Bellegere, and Missandei while Obara and Nymeria sparred.

“Whose is that?” Tyene asked when she spotted the spear.

“It will probably be your father’s first, but it belongs to House Martell,” Daemon replied.

“What?” Arianne asked, getting up and walking over to look at the spear.

“Fuck me, it’s beautiful,” Obara said as she joined them.

“Is that Valyri...that’s the dagger!” Nymeria exclaimed.

“House Martell is the paramount house of Dorne and has multiple ties with House Targaryen.  It only makes sense for it to have an ancestral weapon of its own,” Daemon said.

“Daemon,” Arianne breathed. “This is…”

“Uncle Doran will be thrilled when he sees this,” Tyene said.

“May I?” Obara asked, reaching for the spear.

“By all means,” Daemon said, handing it to her.  Watching her test out the weapon put a smile on his face. “You’ll have to name it, my love.  The best I could come up with was The Sunspear, and that’s bloody awful.”

“Remind me to name our children,” Arianne teased him.

“What about Lightbringer?” Tyene suggested. “It fits the sun imagery of the Martell sigil.”

“Too ostentatious,” Arianne said.

“Heartpiercer,” Nymeria suggested. “It forgoes all hint of poetry and gets right to the point.”

“Not ostentatious enough,” Arianne giggled, before going still. “I’ve got it!  Sunpiercer.”

“I like it,” Daemon said. “It’s a direct reference to your sigil while also fitting for a spear.”

“Sunpiercer it is,” Obara said, grinning. “Father’s going to love this.”

“Well, you can wield it until we return to Dorne,” Daemon said, enjoying how enthusiastic she was about the spear.

*****

The Forest of Qohor was unlike anything that Arianne had ever known.  The Kingswood and the lands around Winterfell looked similar, but she had never spent much time in the Kingswood and had seen the forests of the North only once, and briefly.  There was a calmness and serenity to the dense woodland, for though the air was filled with the sounds of small creatures, none dared come close to their large party.

They had seven thousand Unsullied with them, or close to the number at least.  They had left two thousand in Hugorton and had lost around a thousand in the battles they had fought over the past several moons.  Daemon claimed that the number was shockingly low for how much combat they had seen, and Arianne took his word for it, having little knowledge of what combat losses usually looked like.

They had made remarkable progress over the last few weeks and were already more than halfway to Vaes Dothrak.  They had ridden hard, and there had been no interruptions along their journey, with the Khalasars gone and their party too large and threatening to draw the attention of bandit groups.  She supposed that they could have been challenged by various mercenary parties, but they hadn’t come across any of them either.  As they made camp for the night, there were still a couple hours of daylight left, and Arianne found herself wanting a bath.

“You said that there’s a river nearby, and I’m tired of smelling of horse,” she complained.  She didn’t know what was wrong with her lately, but she had been in a foul mood for most of the journey.  At least that infernal sickness that plagued her each dawn for a while had passed.

“The scouts said it wasn’t far,” Daemon conceded. “Does anyone else want to come?”

“No,” Tyene said, looking exhausted.

“Fuck that,” Obara groaned, looking even worse.

“Tired,” Nymeria breathed, already on her way to the nearest bedroll.

“Belle and Missandei already turned in too,” Arianne said. “We pushed hard today.”

“We might have overdone it a little,” Daemon said sheepishly.

“Come,” Arianne whispered, taking his hand in hers.

“As you wish,” Daemon said, grinning, “but we are taking some Unsullied to stand watch.”

“So long as they don’t actually watch,” Arianne giggled.

Their small band made their way through the short stretch of woodland dividing their camp from the river.  They would have to refill their waterskins here before they started the last leg of the journey, but that could be done at dawn.

“Make sure nothing comes close,” Daemon commanded as he pointed out a few ideal sentry positions around the river.

“You will be done, my prince,” one of the Unsullied replied, bowing his head.

Arianne made her way down towards the river and took off her boots, sighing as she dipped her toes into the cool water.

“Are you alright?” Daemon asked as he joined her. “You’ve been...tense lately.”

“I’m fine, really,” Arianne sighed. “It’s just the hard riding.”

“We could slow down if you need to,” Daemon said.

“No, you’re right about the need for haste,” Arianne replied, smiling up at him. “We’re probably not the only ones who have thought about hitting the Dothraki city while it’s defenseless, and it would be infuriating to come all this way only to discover that someone else had already gotten there and taken everything.”

“I’m glad,” Daemon said, taking off his own boots. “Truth be told, there is actually another reason for haste.”

“Oh?” Arianne asked.

“I haven’t noticed anyone getting too close to Vaes Dothrak yet, but we are being pursued,” Daemon said. “It seems that our fathers have finally gotten wind of what we’ve been up to.”

“There are Westerosi here?” Arianne asked.

“Led by a couple white cloaks,” Daemon said. “Ser Barristan and your great-uncle, I believe.”

“To be honest, I’m surprised that they didn’t learn sooner,” Arianne said.

“Varys must be losing his touch,” Daemon chuckled. “Anyway, we could still hit Vaes Dothrak before they reach us if we slow down, but I would rather finish sacking the city before they do.”

“These riding leathers are rather tight,” Arianne purred, changing the subject. “I don’t suppose you could help me out of them, could you?”

“I might be up to the challenge,” Daemon laughed, his eyes darkening with lust as he looked down at her.

He pulled her in for a soul-searing kiss, and she jumped him, wrapping her arms and legs around his massive frame and returning the kiss with equal passion and hunger.  The pair made quick work of each other’s clothes and plunged into the river together.

“Bathe first, then...ugh...fuck!” Arianne moaned as he nibbled her earlobe.

“I could have you just as you are,” Daemon said heatedly, his long, heavy cock standing hard and proud.

“And I love you for that, but still,” Arianne insisted, wandering over to their pack and pulling out the soap they had brought.  The concoction of horse fat and wood ash wasn’t as nicely scented as what she had back home, but it did the job well enough.

Daemon helped her bathe, clearly wanting to speed up the process, and she laughed at his obvious need.  When he was done, she bathed him in turn, purposefully keeping away from his throbbing cock until the very end.

“You would think you hadn’t fucked any of us in weeks,” Arianne chuckled as she lightly stroked his cock.

“You look like that, and you wonder why I need you more than air right now?” Daemon growled.

“I know the feeling,” Arianne breathed, looking him up and down.  By the gods, that man made her wet.

“Then let’s stop teasing each other,” Daemon said, lifting her up by the waist.  She squealed as he carried her out of the water and placed her gently on the soft grass before dropping to his knees and burying his head between her trembling thighs.

“We...oh, gods...have to be quick!” Arianne yelped as he circled his tongue around her clit. “The sun’s...gah...setting.”

Daemon supped at her dripping sex like it was his last meal, devouring her like the hungry wolf he was, all while his cock grew so hard the head looked purple.

“I’m so close!” Arianne cried a while later.  It could have been minutes; it could have been hours.  She had little sense of time while his gods-given mouth was on her.

He stopped just as she was about to come undone, kissing his way up through the forest of black curls, along her belly, and between her breasts, until he had reached her lips.  She moaned at both the taste of herself on his tongue and the feeling of his thick cock nestled between her soft, wet folds.

“Fuck me, Daemon,” Arianne moaned against his mouth. “Ahh!”

She was so wet that he managed to bury his entire massive cock inside her in one long thrust.  Arianne wrapped her legs around him, as desperate to be as close to him as possible as she was for her denied climax.

“Harder!” she grunted, “faster!”

Daemon buried his face in the crook of her neck, kissing, licking, and gently nipping her pulse point as he fucked her hard and fast.  This wasn’t going to be a long, drawn-out session like they normally enjoyed.  They had to return to camp quickly and couldn’t afford something like that.  It was rough and hard, and they were like two wild, rutting beasts, grunting and snarling their way towards their peaks.

“Fuck!” she screamed as she came hard, clenching and spasming around his pistoning cock.  He let out a wordless roar into her neck a moment later, spilling inside her tight tunnel and painting it white with his seed.

The two of them writhed together through their shared orgasm, reveling in the pleasure coursing through their bodies and the intimacy of their coupling.  Daemon flipped them over as his climax slowed, holding her tightly to his chest.  A cool breeze rushed over them, making Arianne shiver as it cooled the sweat on her body.

“That was am…” Arianne trailed off as she looked out behind them. “Don’t look now, Daemon, but we attracted a very cute audience.”

“Oh?” Daemon asked, craning back his neck to see a small, white-furred animal looking at them curiously from low on a nearby tree.

Arianne climbed off of him and walked on shaky legs towards her pack, pulling out a handful of nuts and throwing one to the tiny creature.  He climbed down the tree towards the nut, picking it up and eating it quickly.  She threw another one closer to their position, and then another one even closer after the small creature took the bait.  Whatever the creature was, Daemon had never seen one before.  It was of a similar shape to a mink but with longer limbs, and its coloring was completely different.  White, with some gray patches and a black nose, it had a long, ringed tail that alternated between white and gray.  As it drew close, she noticed its most startling feature by far.

“Daemon, it’s eyes are purple,” Arianne said excitedly.

“Odd,” Daemon said, getting up slowly so as to not scare off the creature. “I thought only Valyrians and the Daynes had purple eyes.”

“I’ve never heard of the color in an animal either,” Arianne said. “Oh, you are just adorable!”

The animal seemed to preen under her cooing and drew close enough that she decided to crouch down and see if it would take nuts from her hand.  When it did, she got a closer look, noticing that he was male.

“Be careful, Ari,” Daemon said. “I don’t want you getting bitten so far from proper medical supplies.”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s likely; he’s remarkably calm,” Arianne said, reaching out with her other hand.  He sniffed her for a moment and went back to eating. “You must be starving.”

Carefully, she reached over to scratch behind his ears and laughed when he started kicking the ground uncontrollably in response.

“I think he likes you,” Daemon said dryly, shaking his head and going to pick up their clothes.

“That’s all I have, little guy,” Arianne said softly as the creature finished off the nuts.

Daemon handed her her riding leathers, and she started putting them on, being watched all the while by the animal.  When they were done, they turned to leave, only for her little friend to follow.

“You probably wouldn’t like our camp,” Arianne chuckled. “There are a bunch of people you wouldn’t like very much and a giant wolf who’d like you far too much.”

“I somehow imagine that he doesn’t speak common,” Daemon jested as they continued to be followed.  Even the presence of the Unsullied didn’t deter their cute pursuer.  Arianne figured that he would stop at the edge of camp and scurry off.  She leaned into Daemon as they walked together, looking forward to curling up with him and falling asleep.

*****

“Oh, he’s so cute!” she heard Tyene squeal.  Arianne opened her eyes blearily, irritated by the rude awakening.

“I don’t think that even I’ve ever made her produce a sound that high-pitched,” Daemon groaned. “I take it that strange little creature stuck around.”

“Try to keep Ghost and Brynden from hurting him,” Arianne said.

“He’s a little small for Ghost, but, aye, I’ll see about convincing Brynden that he’s not food,” Daemon said as he got up and quickly got dressed.  She followed suit and joined him in pursuing the sounds of her excited friends.

They found Tyene, Nymeria, Bellegere, and Missandei standing near the center of their camp, looking down at the strange creature who was soaking up the attention happily.

“What in the world is that?” Obara asked as she joined them, probably also looking to see what all the racket was about.

“It’s a Little Valyrian,” Bellegere replied.

“A what?” Arianne asked.

“A Little Valyrian,” Bellegere repeated. “It’s a type of lemur.  The Sealord had one in his menagerie for a while, and I saw it once.  They’re so named because…”

“Of the coloring?” Daemon asked.

“No, because they breathe fire,” Bellegere replied.

“What?!” Tyene, who had picked up the little creature, asked.

Bellegere just laughed, and Arianne smacked her ass playfully.

A shriek sounded from the air, and Brynden descended towards them.  The lemur squeaked and jumped out of Tyene’s hands onto her shoulder and then climbed around to her back, clinging to her riding leathers for dear life.

“Apparently he does have some survival instincts,” Daemon drawled, reaching out to the eagle, who landed on his arm.  He seemed to be almost in communication with the bird, hopefully instilling in it the idea that the lemur was friend, not food.

“Speaking of animals who’ll need that lesson,” she murmured to herself as Ghost padded into view.  He took one look at the lemur and ran towards Tyene.  The lemur jumped off of her back and ran, pursued by the direwolf.  Ghost was larger than any normal wolf by that point, and though not fully grown, he was still a terrifying sight.

“Provided Ghost doesn’t run him off, you should bond with him,” Tyene said.

“Why?” Daemon asked.

“Because he’s cute,” Tyene replied.  At his flat look, she added, “he could also be useful.  He’s small and has man-like hands.  Brynden can let you spy on people from the air, but that little guy could let you get close, and with those hands of his, you could drop poison in people’s food.”

“One, I’m not an assassin, and two, he’s almost fully white,” Daemon argued. “He’s not exactly built for stealth.”

“He’s still cute,” Tyene insisted.

Ghost came barreling towards them, still in hot pursuit of the lemur, who jumped into Arianne’s arms.  Daemon pulled her out of the direwolf’s way, and Ghost skidded to a halt, looking up at her with a wagging tail.

“Daemon, tell him the lemur’s not food,” Arianne whined, cuddling the terrified creature.

“He doesn’t think the little thing’s food; he thinks he’s fun,” Daemon snorted, moving to calm the giant wolf.  The wolf ran off at Daemon’s urging, chasing after Brynden, who had flown out towards the trees.

“I’m calling him Maegor,” Arianne decided.

“Maegor?” Nymeria snorted.

“He’s a Little Valyrian and it’s the funniest Valyrian name I can think of other than Balerion,” Arianne replied. “Rhaenys’ already picked that name for her cat.”

“I sincerely hope that he someday tries to ride Balerion,” Daemon laughed.

“He must be very young,” Missandei commented. “The only wild animals I’ve ever seen who were this overly friendly were juveniles.”

“Come to think of it, he is slightly smaller than the one I saw back in Braavos,” Bellegere commented.

“If he’s still growing, then that’s all the more reason to take him with us,” Arianne said, smiling down at Maegor. “He’s clearly without a mother.”

*****

“This is supposed to be a city?” Obara asked, balking at the sight in front of her as they peered down at the vast expanse of largely empty-looking huts that filled the plain in front of the tall mountain in the distance.

“I did say it was underdeveloped,” Daemon said.

“But I was still expecting something.  This is just…” Obara trailed off.

“An easy target,” Nymeria commented. “Especially since I don’t see many warriors, or any warriors, in fact.”

“I’ve suspected for a while that Drogo really did take the last of their fighting men with him in his assault on Hugorton,” Daemon said. “All that appears to still be here are unarmed slaves and a council of women who command them, as well as a number of merchants, though it appears that they have fled.”

“They know we’re coming,” Tyene said.

“So it would seem,” Daemon said. “Which is why I’m wondering why they haven’t fled with the merchants.”

“Perhaps they think reinforcements are coming for some reason,” Arianne suggested.

“Or maybe it’s a trap,” Nymeria said.

“With what?” Obara asked. “We killed all their fighting cunts, and they look completely defenseless.”

“Laying a trap for us after we used one to kill so many of them would be terribly fitting, but I’m with Obara,” Daemon said. “I just don’t see what resources they could possibly call on at this point.”

“In the last few centuries, the Dothraki have never suffered defeats on this scale,” Missandei said. “It’s possible that they just don’t know what to do or that they don’t know how bad their losses have been.  Maybe Arianne’s right, and they really do think that a Khalasar will come to save them.”

“Why are their leaders women?” Bellegere asked.

“What do you mean?” Arianne asked.

“There were no female Khals and the women the Khalasars kept were treated like pleasure slaves, for the most part,” Bellegere said. “With them having so little regard for women, why would their only city be run by women?”

“I have no idea,” Daemon said.

“Maybe it’s their religion?” Bellegere said. “Maybe specific women from among their tribe are selected to be holy women of some sort.”

“If that were the case, they might legitimately believe that they will be saved,” Daemon said. “Many a septon has died believing that the Seven wouldn’t allow it.”

“So, we go in and keep our guard up?” Obara asked.

“Probably the only option we have, really,” Daemon said. “Both from here and from the air, I can’t see anything that would make me think that this is a trap.”

He gave the order for the Unsullied to assemble and rode ahead to the formation.  Calling out loudly, ensuring that his voice carried far enough to be heard by the entire army, he bellowed, “the city before us lies defenseless and open.  There are no walls, no gates, and very few defenders.  Stay on your guard and kill anyone who dares to attack you, but do not harm anyone who does not take up arms against us.”

Marching forward, he left a company of Unsullied behind to guard Arianne, Tyene, Bellegere, and Missandei.  Obara and Nymeria rode with him on either side.  Nymeria’s particular skills might not have lent themselves to the defenses that he set up for Hugorton, but she was capable of defending herself, not that he expected much combat anyway.

Everywhere they went, they were met with slaves who kept their heads down and little else.  They traversed across the grass and dirt roads all the way to the center of the city, staying on their guards even as no one attacked them the entire way.  There was a single building there that was larger than the others, and Daemon decided to wait outside it with his honor guard as the Unsullied split off in centuries to scour through the city.  When no sounds of battle erupted anywhere in the city, Daemon gave the signal for the rest of their party to join them.

“You there,” he called out to one of the slaves in High Valyrian. “Where are your warriors?”

“There are none, master,” the slave replied in the bastardized Valyrian of the Free Cities. “The Dosh Khaleen say that they are coming, but none have.”

“The Dosh Khaleen?” Daemon asked.

“The widows of the late Khals, master,” the slave said.

“So there are no Dothraki men here, and no Dothraki at all, save for these old women, remain?” Daemon asked. “Why not leave?  Where are your balls?”

“Taken long ago, master,” the slave replied.

“Stop calling me that…” Daemon snapped, pausing for a moment as the man’s words sunk in. “You’re all eunuchs?”

“Yes,” the eunuch replied.

“So they didn’t want Khals stealing each other’s wives, and their solution was to make the widows the leaders of their city,” Daemon thought to himself. “They couldn’t give them handmaidens because those would be women that they could be fucking themselves, so they surrounded them with men who couldn’t fuck them.  That fits with what I know of the Dothraki.”

“Are the Dosh Khaleen in that building?” Daemon asked, pointing to the largest structure.

“Yes,” the eunuch said. “Be warned, they are planning to set the building on fire once you enter it.”

“With them in it?” Daemon asked.

“They have tried to deny Khal Drogo’s failure for many weeks, but they knew,” the eunuch said. “Somehow they knew you would come and decided to sacrifice themselves to avenge their people.”

“And you’re warning me why?” Daemon asked.

“We didn’t leave before because we knew that we would be killed,” the eunuch said. “We stayed because we wanted to see how this ended, not out of any loyalty to the Dothraki.”

“You have balls of a sort after all,” Daemon said. “You know by my presence that the last Khal failed and you are free.  What will you do now?”

“We do not know,” the eunuch said. “We know that if we flee west, we will just be enslaved again by men like the Dothraki.  Some wish to flee east to Kayakayanaya, where eunuchs like us serve the women of the city, but I have served at the whims of women long enough to know that they are not so different.  Are there slaves in your kingdom?”

“No,” Daemon replied honestly. “There appear to be a few thousand of you here, but you could probably be divided as servants among the castles of Westeros.  You would be paid and treated with a measure of dignity.”

“That sounds nice,” the eunuch said.

“What is your name?” Daemon asked.

“Ero,” the eunuch replied.

“I am Prince Daemon.  Ero, my men are going to loot this place and take everything of value,” Daemon said. “If you and the rest of your fellows wish to join us, I would be happy to deliver you to better lands.”

“We are in your debt, Prince,” Ero said.

“Inform the others of their new fate,” Daemon said, sending him on.  Turning to his men, he bellowed, “stay out of this building here.  It is a trap and is best avoided.  Take everything of value from the rest of the city and pile it up by those giant horse statues we passed.  When we’re done, we’re burning the place to the ground!”

The Unsullied reacted dispassionately and went off to carry out his orders just as Arianne and the others arrived.  Daemon informed them of what he had learned.

“So they’re holed up in there, planning to burn the place down?” Arianne asked.

“They have nothing else to do,” Daemon said. “They have lost and have no idea how to handle that.”

“They might still be dangerous,” Nymeria said.

“I’ve left guards outside,” Daemon said. “If they want to stay in here while I steal everything and burn the rest of Vaes Dothrak down, I’m willing to let them.  Let them be the last vestiges of the Dothraki in Essos.”

“We passed a number of very pretty statues on our way here,” Arianne said. “Would you like to take a closer look?”

“Aye, why not?” Daemon asked, following his wife down the road back towards the entrance to the city.

“There is no rhyme or reason to the placement of these,” Missandei said as she looked over the collection of statues. “The styles are so different that they clearly come from many different cultures, and they don’t even seem to be arranged in order of placement.  There are signs of age on this one here, unlike any of the ones surrounding it.”

“I think that this is a conquest gallery,” Daemon said.

“A what?” Arianne asked.

“A permanent testament to their successes on Essos,” Daemon explained. “Missandei’s right about the statues coming from different peoples.  This one here, for instance, is distinctly Andal-looking.  It might actually be of the Warrior, or just some Andal warlord.”

“So they took these from cities that they laid waste to,” Nymeria said.

“So it would seem,” Daemon said, “which makes me feel even better about what I’m going to do here.  I wonder if could be possible to transport those horse statues.”

“Daemon, they’re enormous,” Arianne said.

“And I think that they’d look lovely outside the Old Palace in Sunspear,” Daemon said, smirking.

“That...they are beautiful,” Arianne admitted.

“We’ll ask the eunuchs if any of them think that they could get them down in one piece,” Daemon said.

“My prince,” a voice called from behind him.

“Ah, Grey Worm,” Daemon said, “report.”

“All of the buildings have been emptied of valuables, save for the large one,” Grey Worm reported. “We enlisted the former slaves to help carry it all.”

“Good,” Daemon smiled, noticing the stream of men coming holding various treasures. “Inform these former slaves that I would like these giant horse statues transported and want to know if any of them think that they could help.”

“Of course, my prince,” Grey Worm said, bowing his head.

“It seems we won’t be here lon…” Daemon went to say only for a loud female screaming to interrupt him.  He couldn’t make it out at first, not having bothered to learn Dothraki, but it sounded like someone was screaming the same few words over and over again, and eventually he realized that he had heard a couple of them before.

“What is she saying?” he asked Missandei. “I swear I heard the last khal and his men say that same phrase often as they rode to Hugorton, or at least part of it.”

“She’s calling for the demon to show himself,” Missandei translated.

“I suppose it’s close enough,” Daemon chuckled. “I can go see what she wants.”

“I’ll come with you,” Missandei said. “You’ll need a translator.”

“Stay behind me,” Daemon said.  Pointing to the nearest couple dozen Unsullied, he said, “you lot, with me.”

“Daemon, take us with you,” Arianne said pleadingly. “There’s nothing to do here.”

“I’m coming for sure,” Obara said flatly, holding Sunpiercer by her side.

Daemon considered it for a moment before replying, “you stay behind us.”

“Of course,” Arianne said, smiling.

The small party made their way to the center of Vaes Dothrak, the hysterical screaming growing louder the closer they drew to its source.  Daemon noticed as the large building came into view that the women had assembled outside, apparently having cottoned onto the fact that no one was falling for their trap.

As soon as they noticed them, the apparent leader of the group turned and started screaming at him, rage clear on her wizened face.

“She says that you are a monster,” Missandei translated, “that you are the great destroyer and an enemy of the great Earth Mother.”

“I’ve been called worse,” Daemon yawned, smirking at the outrage his visible dismissal provoked.  Reaching Vaes Dothrak had required passing through many cities that the Dothraki had put to the torch through the centuries, and it had hardened him even further against them.

“She says that you must be destroyed and that their god will be the one to send you to hell,” Missandei said.

“This is a hilarious reaction from a people who terrorized an entire continent for centuries,” Daemon grinned.

“Being on the other end is less fun, I guess,” Obara snorted.

“She says that she hopes the great Horse Lord accepts their meager sacrifice,” Missandei said.

“What?!” Daemon exclaimed, and he felt his heart sink as the women drew knives from their leathers. “NO!”

Nightsister was in his hand in an instant as he rushed towards the Dosh Khaleen, each of whom was pointing a dagger at her heart.  Time seemed to slow for the prince, who could only watch in horror as they all plunged their daggers into the chests and ripped them free.  He was hit with spurts of blood, reaching them a full moment too late to stop the madness that he witnessed, and he just stood on the lowest step as they fell to the ground, bleeding out in seconds.  His eyes went straight to Arianne, who was starting at him in fear.  He was intimately aware that almost everything he held dear in the world was in the middle of a potential nightmare.

“Protect them at all costs!” he barked at the Unsullied, who formed a shield wall around his lovers.

“Daemon, what’s going on?” Arianne cried.

“You remember what I told you about the Drowned God?” Daemon hissed, his eyes searching around fretfully for the slightest sign of danger.

“You don’t…” Tyene trailed off.

“Expect a thirty-foot-tall horse to descend from the sky and kill us all?” Daemon asked, looking to the sky for just such a thing.

He had gotten lucky in the Iron Isles, and he knew it, having slain the transformed priest before the transformation finished.  If an actual god appeared before them, he had no idea how the fuck he was going to counter it.  Sword in hand, he continued looking around for several minutes, expecting to be attacked at any moment.

“Daemon, I don’t think it worked,” Bellegere said soothingly, trying to calm him.  Something about her tone made him think of how you calmed a spooked horse, and he almost laughed at the comparison.

Taking a deep breath, he let himself relax a little, though he didn’t sheave his sword.  The Unsullied had little reaction to how he was behaving, which was nice because he was pretty sure that any Westerosi soldiers would have been looking at him like his grandfather’s madness had claimed him.  His lovers, at least, knew why he was as concerned as he was.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Daemon muttered to himself. “A single priest of the Drowned God nearly managed to turn himself into his god’s living form with his sacrifice, and over a dozen of these madwomen, who clearly were religious figures, managed nothing?”

“Maybe their god doesn’t exist?” Missandei suggested. “I mean, they can’t all be real, right?”

“It’s possible,” Daemon sighed, feeling his fear leave him at last.  He had long since conquered his fear of death, but the deaths of the women he loved were entirely different.

“Empty this place of its valuables and burn it to the ground,” he ordered the Unsullied.

“Your will be done, my prince,” Red Rat said, leading the others inside.

“We can place these lunatics inside and save us the trouble,” Daemon said, glaring down at the dead Dosh Khaleen.

“My prince, my prince!” an Unsullied exclaimed, riding quickly towards him.

“White Worm,” Daemon said, recognizing his scout.

“Men and elephants, coming from the south-east,” White Rat reported. “Thousands of them.”

“Did they carry a banner?” Daemon asked, a sinking feeling returning to him.

“Solid gold, my prince,” White Rat replied.

“The Golden Company,” Daemon murmured to himself, looking away from his scout.

It was possible that they had simply gotten the same idea as him: that with the Khalasars gone, news of which could have reached other parts of Essos by now, Vaes Dothrak would be ripe for the sacking.  Daemon couldn’t help but wonder if there wasn’t more to it, though.  Every Khalasar between the first and last had been lured in specifically by promises of treasure that he had passed along.

The final one could be explained as Khal Drogo deciding to wipe out an enemy who had killed so many of his fellow Khals, but the first one was still difficult to explain.  Recalling a conversation that he had had with Edric just after it, where the boy pointed out that it was strange that the Khal didn’t demand tribute before attacking, Daemon was hit with the same sense of foreboding that he had then.  If the first Khalasar had been sent by an enemy in Essos that he had and knew not, then the Golden Company could have been sent by this same enemy.  Even if it wasn’t, though, he doubted that the Golden Company would react well to the presence of a Targaryen and some Martells.  He had a fight on his hands, and his current position was pretty far from defensible.

“Fuck,” he muttered.