Khal Qerrmo grinned maliciously as his bloodriders chased after the women folk fleeing the village. The Andals were weak cowards in his eyes. They never had the guts to stay and fight. Instead, they scrambled to run away at the sound of his Khalasar's hooves. Most importantly, the few Andal warriors who had the guts to take a weapon into their hands did so by wearing steel armour like the cowards they were.
Those who had no strength to protect their women did not deserve to hold on to their women. It was the way of the Khals before him, and he followed the same as he had hoped to become the greatest Khal of all in the world.
"My Khal!"
Qerrmo frowned as he turned his head, hearing the familiar sound of one of his bloodriders.
"Guan. You have word for me from the south." said Qerrmo, frowning at his subordinate.
"I do, my Khal. An army approaches from the south."
"An army?" Qerrmo's frown only deepened.
He had been hearing strange tales from the south. Some no-name Andal prince from across the poisoned waters had sent proclamations of a challenge to all Khals raiding the land of Andals. He considered such a nuisance little more than pests. Their threats were unimportant to a Khal, but such insolence could not be tolerated.
"These Andals – they are marching towards us?" Qerrmo asked curiously.
He was a bit surprised these Andals somehow came across courage all of a sudden. Very rarely did Andals put up a fight. Usually, they ran away in the opposite direction from the sound of his horses' hooves.
"Yes, my Khal."
Qerrmo noticed his bloodrider looking hesitant.
"What is it, Guan?" he asked impatiently.
"My Khal, this Andal comes from across the poisoned waters. They say he is a prince who rides a flying beast born from the night. They say he set the beast on Khal Moro and destroyed his Khalassar." Guan said hesitantly.
"Ha!" Yoer snorted and started laughing so hard. "An Andal destroying Khal Moro's host? These Andals seem to be spreading weak lies to scare us."
Qerrmo agreed with his bloodrider. Andals were weak fools who worshipped weak stone gods. He had destroyed many of their villages and little wooden septs to know Andals were weaklings, and this supposed army was nothing more than a rabble of weak men who'd run at the first taste of battle.
Even if that was the case, his pride as a Khal would not allow him to leave these Andals to spread lies about a fellow Khal.
Qerrmo turned his focus on Guan.
"You know this Andal army. Where do they come from?" Qerrmo asked curiously.
"From the Flatlands, my Khal."
"The Flatlands. Those fat Pentoshi swine might be involved." said Yoer with a sneer.
Qerrmo had to agree. The Pentoshi were no better than these Andals. He suspected most of those lots were Andals at some point in the past. Those cowardly city dwellers had not invited the wrath of Dothraki Khalassar so far by giving proper respect and tribute to the great Khals of the past.
"We shall visit the fat merchants of Pentos." said Qerrmo, a manic glint entering his dark eyes, "We'll wring the truth from their tongue."
His bloodriders shouted out their approval and raised their arakhs high at the prospect of attacking Pentos.
However, their shouts were drowned out by a beastly roar that brought an unholy fear into their hearts.
Qerrmo and his bloodriders watched with wide eyes as a blue beast with silver wings swooped down from the sky and set the horsemen chasing the villagers ablaze. The bright blue flames swallowed an entire swarm of his finest warriors and horses, making Qerrmo feel something he thought he had discarded long ago – fear!
Another terrifying roar thundered across the land, making Qerrmo turn abruptly on his horse and stare at another colossal dragon swooping in from the south. It was a large black beast, much larger than the blue beast, wreaking havoc on his Khalasar.
"Bring that beast down!" Qerrmo shouted, but his words were drowned by the screams of his people.
The black dragon unleashed its dark purple flames on a row of his finest warriors.
A great gust of wind nearly knocked Qerrmo off his horse as the black dragon passed over his head. With a mighty flap of its wings, the beast climbed swiftly into the sky, leaving nothing but ashes and blackened ground in its wake.
"The archers! Bring me your bows!" Qerrmo rallied his men while he sent out his bloodriders to help lead his great Khalasar to combat the fire-spitting beasts.
Another jet of blue flames burned through his men, making Qerrmo angrily grit his teeth. His eyes burned with hatred as the blue dragon burned through his people again while he watched on helplessly.
"Those riders! Aim for those riders on the beasts!" Qerrmo ordered his archers.
The black dragon dived again to bring destruction and death to his people, but this time he was ready.
"On my command." Qerrmo shouted with his arakh raised in the air, waiting for the dragon to fly low.
When the black dragon finally lowered itself to the ground and opened its maw to breathe its infernal fire, Qerrmo gave the command to release the arrows. The strings of several bows snapping filled his ears, and he watched eagerly as arrows rained down on the colossal dragon.
But the results were not to Qerrmo's liking. The dragon shrugged off the arrows while the rider on its back remained untouched by the bows of his men. Qerrmo bellowed a roar of frustration as the dragon spat out another stream of fire that set his men ablaze. He watched with growing rage as the colossal dragon climbed to the clouds in quick order, leaving a large portion of his Khalasar burnt to death.
His eyes remained on the sky as did his bloodriders' but they didn't see the dragons again.
They waited a fair bit, looking for any sign of the fire-spitting beasts, and when they were sure the dragons were not coming, they moved to regroup. When the sun finally set on the horizon, Qerrmo was left with a broken Khalasar. Nearly a quarter of his fighting men were burnt to ashes, and almost half suffered wounds from the attack.
The most damaging of all were the horses they lost in the attack. More than half their horses were decimated, and quite a few had gone missing in the chaos of battle. He had sent riders to retrieve the horses that survived the assault, but the damage was most severe.
"Tell me, Yoer. Do you think we can fell those beasts if they come again?" he asked gruffly while staring at his battered camp filled with wounded Dothraki men.
"Not alone. Those beasts have come from beyond the poisoned waters. We will need the blessing of the Great Stallion and the support of other Khalasars."
"I fear you are right." Qerrmo said gruffly, "Send word to Vaes Dothrak. Seek the help of Dosh Khaleen and, through them, the other Khalasars. Warn them of the beasts and their riders."
"The messengers will never reach in time to help us. The Andal army marches as we speak." said Yoer.
"We fight to the last man." said Qerrmo confidently, "We take as many Andals with us to the Stallion with us. I'm sure the horse god will part the grass and allow our souls to join his starry Khalasar for our bravery."
"Perhaps we could challenge the weak Andal Prince to fight like a man with steel instead of hiding behind his beast." said Yoer with a wicked grin.
"Hmm. I doubt the Andal have the courage to do so, but you are right. When I kill the Andal Prince in battle, it'll be one less dragon to worry about. Maybe our Khalasar might triumph on our own against the beasts and the Andal army." Qerrmo said, staring thoughtfully into the distance.
****
Aegon poured over the maps strewn across the table before him. There were different maps of Andalos before him and all of them lacked in detail to start a campaign. Most of the villages in Andalos were constantly on the move because of continuous Dothraki raids.
The people of Andalos had no other choice but to keep moving after repeated attacks. It forced people to adopt a nomadic lifestyle to survive the Dothraki raiders and slavers. Fearing Dothraki raids, the Andals of Andalos were forced to live in the mountains and the woods. A lucky few managed to gain entry into Pentos and the Flatlands. But most of them served as slaves in the Free City.
It was a better fate than being the property of the Dothraki barbarians, according to some of the Andals he spoke to in the Flatlands. While slavery was indeed a horrendous sin, he could believe being a plaything in the hands of the barbarian horselords of the far east was far more intimidating for the people. This became abundantly clear when his Dragonshields liberated the slaves from the Dothraki camp in the Flatlands.
The women were treated as cattle to be bred and little more as pleasure slaves. The children served as slave labour and for the entertainment of the barbarians. The men were used as animals and made to fight against the highly trained horselords.
At least, in the Free Cities, there was a chance for those with enough skill to climb the social ladder and buy their freedom. The Dothraki were far worse in his eyes than the Magisters of Pentos. It was one of the reasons why he had no qualms with the merchants of the Flatlands taking 'ownership' of the Dothraki prisoners he took after the battle in the Flatlands.
While he liked to think he could do better with the prisoners, he didn't have the time or the resources to make it happen.
To be completely honest, he didn't even want to handle those mongrels simply because of the repercussions that'd follow.
Not everyone in Pentos was happy with his presence in the city. Their concerns had only increased when he formed the Dragonshields. He was keenly aware of the disgruntled voices and the fearmongers who whisper in the shadows, thinking their voices don't reach his ears. He had made some friends among the Magisters and merchant class in the city. They had kept him informed of the ongoing shifts in the political landscape, and in return, he gave them access to the spoils of war in the form of expanded land holdings.
"My prince."
Aegon looked up from the map laid out on the table to stare at the entrance of his tent. He looked at his wife, who was lounging on a chair beside the table with a chess board on a small round table.
Gael just shrugged and came to sit with him, abandoning the game for the moment.
"Come in." he said.
Jon came in with Ser Reginald, making Aegon frown.
"Is there something that matters?" Aegon asked, noticing a peculiar expression on both men's faces.
"There is a messenger from Khal Qerrmo." said Jon.
"A messenger, you say?" Aegon asked incredulously.
He never expected the barbarian horselords to be civilised enough to have any thought other than just blind rage and other primal desires.
"Yes, my prince. Khal Qerrmo has sent a messenger with some terms." Jon said with a scowl.
"You don't look happy." Aegon noted his friend's discomfort.
"The messenger insists on speaking with the prince of poisoned waters." Jon said with a scowl but hastily added, "…his words, not mine."
"Maybe this horselord sees sense in surrendering rather than facing us in battle." Gael suggested.
"You give these barbarians too much credit, my love. Wanton death and destruction are in the blood of the Dothraki." said Aegon before he shook his head, "However, we'll not turn away a messenger. I would meet this man and hear what his master has to say."
Aegon and Gael, escorted by Ser Reginald and Ser Jon, made themselves comfortable in a larger tent where they greeted guests and petitioners. It was not much compared to the opulence of the Red Keep. They just had two chairs on a raised podium inside, with a lot of space before them for a small crowd of men to assemble within the tent. This was where the officers of the Dragonshields met, but for now, all other tables and chairs were absent.
Gael suddenly cracked up in laughter as the messenger was escorted into the tent.
"What're you doing?" Aegon whispered out of the corner of his mouth.
"I can't help it. Just look at that… that… thing. I can't help but think he is perfect as a court fool. The man has bells on his hair like a clown!" Gael managed to mutter in between bouts of chuckles.
Aegon had to admit his lovely wife was onto something here. He had seen his fair share of Dothraki men with their ridiculous braids and bells, but this one looked like a clown. There were so many little bells hanging around the man's braids it made the Dothraki messenger look like a walking, talking, mean-looking clown. Then, add in those ridiculous tattoos supplanting the eyebrows, which made it all the more difficult for him not to outright laugh at the man's face.
The Dothraki warrior wore little to cover his abdomen besides a piece of cloth hanging from his neck and several chains with strange teeth hanging from threads tied to the links.
"I am Guan, son of Meuan, bloodrider to Khal Qerrmo. I come bearing the word of my Khal."
"You're in the presence of Aegon the Unburnt, rider of Fiendfyre, scion of House Targaryen and Prince of the Seven Kingdoms." said Ser Reginald, staring down at the unarmed Dothraki warrior, "If you've come to surrender, it's customary to kneel before our prince."
"I have not come to surrender." Guan said in a heavily accented common tongue.
"You may say what you have to say, bloodrider Guan." said Aegon to speed things along before egos clashed.
"My Khal asks you take your beasts and cross the poisoned waters of your own will. Stay longer in these lands, and you invite the ire of all Khalasars upon your head."
"I like the sound of that. You see, all your distinguished Khalasars are welcome to seek me out. It saves me the time to hunt you all down." Aegon said with an indulging smile.
He could see Guan was not amused by his comment. Aegon could see that by the way the Dothraki warrior narrowed his dark eyes at him.
"War can be waged and blood spilt on the grass in honour of the Great Stallion. But my Khal offers you the opportunity to show your bravery. Take steel into your own hands and face my Khal in battle – warrior to warrior."
Aegon leaned forward in his chair with an intrigued look at the proposition while his people squirmed uncomfortably at the challenge.
"I know my army can defeat you. I know my dragons can lay waste to your entire Khalasar. Why should I accept this challenge?" he asked with a raised brow.
"Why Andal prince? You afraid to face my Khal in a duel of strength and skill?" Guan asked, an insulting smile stretching his face.
"Why bloodrider? Are you afraid of your Khalasar getting wiped out if our armies meet on the battlefield?" Aegon asked with a raised eyebrow, unbothered by the goading, "If you are, then that's what is waiting for you. I'll bring fire and blood upon your Khal and his Khalasar. You'll be forgotten as I etch my name on the bones and ashes of your people. Unless…"
"Unless we make this proposed battle with proper terms." Aegon continued when he noticed the interest in the bloodrider's eyes.
Aegon could feel the warning gaze of Ser Reginald, but he was determined to see this through and see if it avoided bloodshed.
"What terms?" Guan asked after a pregnant pause.
"Should I win against Khal Qerrmo, his Khalsar is mine to command. Should he win, he may take possession of my army. My wife or I shall never bother him or his Khalasar ever again." Aegon offered generously, "I believe these terms are generous."
"We shall see. I shall convey your terms to my Khal." said Guan, nodding his head jerkily.
He watched in silence as the bloodrider was escorted out of his tent.
"That was poorly done, my prince. The Dothraki are barbarians. They won't honour their word, and you have taken a grave risk for no reason." Ser Reginald said with a disappointed sigh.
"I must agree with Ser Reginald, my prince. Though I pray the Warrior blesses your steel, losing the duel means you forfeit your life and your army. If the roles were reversed, your enemy would not show you any mercy or provide you with such generous terms." Septon Alrec said with worry clearly shown on his gaunt face.
"The Dothraki think they are warriors of great skill because they burned a few villages and killed a bunch of untrained farmers. We shall see soon enough the vaunted bravery and skill of this Khal Qerrmo." said Aegon with a snort.
Though he dismissed the Dothraki and their ability to win a fair fight against a trained knight, he was not an idiot to throw away his life on a whim. He trained almost daily with a sword and was confident he could bring the Khal to his knees without a huge battle robbing many lives. Besides, he could think of many uses with a Khalassar under his command.
*****
Aegon stared at his foes from across a field of grass. The Dothraki Khalasar arranged themselves in neat columns as the Dragonshields did the same on his side.
"Are you sure you want to do this, Aegon? We can destroy them in the field with minimal causalities on our side." Jon whispered from his side.
Aegon turned around to stare at the faces of his men and his wife standing far back with their dragons.
"When the bards write songs about our campaign in Essos, let there be no doubt that we won battles at the edge of steel, not just dragonfire." said Aegon.
"Then, at least reconsider wearing your armour." Ser Reginald pleaded.
"Armour will slow me down. Speed is what I need when facing this foe. I have chainmail for protection." said Aegon, pulling the reins of his horse and prodding his mount to move forward.
The officers of the Dragonshields followed him, riding to the centre of the battleground. Khal Qerrmo and his bloodriders followed suit by riding out from their side. The two groups met at the dead centre between their armies underneath the towering hills of Andalos.
"Are the terms acceptable?" Aegon asked once their horses settled down, and he stared at the man, who he assumed was Khal Qerrmo.
Khal Qerrmo started saying something in his people's grotesque language that sounded like he was taking a hammer to a rock. It was completely alien to his ears, but he observed the Khal closely when the man spoke.
The Khal had long black hair and onyx eyes. The man was tall and packed with muscles on his torso. The man clearly had no qualms in showing off his body as his upper torso was left bare sans for wearing bones and animal teeth as ornaments. The long drooping moustache and beard held many bells, as did the braids on the Khal's head. The Khal's forehead was covered in markings in black ink.
Aegon also suspected the Khal was wearing eyeliner, which made him bite the inside of his cheek not to laugh at the Khal's face.
"My Khal says the terms are acceptable, but he wants two of his own demands to be included in the terms." Guan, the bloodrider, said in accented common tongue.
"That is reasonable. What does your Khal want?" Aegon nodded.
"My Khal wishes the challenge to be a fight to death." Guan said loudly.
"Agreed." Aegon immediately said as he was expecting nothing less from a Khal. "What is the second demand?"
"My Khal wishes not to make a young widow out of your beautiful wife. He says after he kills you, he wishes to marry your wife and give her lots of children." said Guan.
"Barbarian scum!" Ser Reginald sneered, eyes blazing with anger at the insult.
"You dare to insult our princess! I'll have your tongue for this." Jon shouted, unsheathing his sword and made to dismount his horse.
"Jon!" Aegon sharply said, bringing his friend to a halt. "There is no need to be offended. Consider it the last words of a dead, pathetic man."
"Your Khal may try to do so if he has the strength to defeat me." Aegon said with a snort.
With that said, Aegon dismounted his horse and gave the reins to one of his men.
"It's time, Khal Qerrmo. Are we fighting or not?" Aegon asked as he took a shield in his left hand and a sword in the other.
As Khal Qerrmo jumped down from his horse and prepared for the fight, Aegon called forth the magic within him to the forefront. He could not perform any complicated spells since he lacked a wand. But ever since he was blessed with the white flame, it became easier to perform wandless magic as long as the spells were simple and easy to bind with touch.
He channelled his will and imagination to shape the magical energy and let it seep into the shield, sword and chainmail he was carrying. Immediately, he felt a few pounds lighter.
He took a few steps forward to put some distance from his horse, and he found that his movement was not as restricted as before. Adjusting the grip on his shield and sword, he turned his wrists lightly. Both weapons were as light as a feather in his hands.
'Glory to Gaelithox. It worked!' Aegon thought with relief.
He had been experimenting with his magic to summon spells that he remembered from the dreams and the occasional memories slumbering within his mind. It was a bag of mixed results. His affinity to fire seems to work wonders with the spells he knew, which was not much in the first place. His knowledge of elemental spells was poor, and the many charms he knew were useless without a wand. The most complicated charm he could perform was the listening charm, which he could only bind to a place as long as his skin was in contact with the targeted place.
But he had been trying his best to use the featherlight charm as it was more practical than the disarming charm. After all, the featherlight charm was inconspicuous. No one could see he was using magic with subtle charms like that, but the disarming charm would show his magic to everyone. He was already on thin ice with his pyromancy out in the open in Westeros. The only reason he hadn't seen as many wary eyes around him was because he was in Essos, where pyromancers were aplenty.
With his sword, shield and chainmail weighing as light as a feather, Aegon grew more confident as he faced the hulking figure of Khal Qerrmo.
The Khal towered over him with a nearly seven-foot-tall mass of muscles. Aegon barely reached the shoulders of the Khal. But if size alone determined the results of battles, he'd have feared the Khal and never agreed to fight solo.
Besides, the Khal's insults to Gael could not be overlooked. Leaving such insults unanswered was not part of his character, especially when the savage came after Gael with such crude insults. It took every ounce of patience within his being to stay aloof after hearing such crude claims made by the Khal.
Aegon stood ready with his sword raised on a level, its tip pointed at the Khal, and the shield stayed in front of his body.
Khal Qerrmo twirled his arakh in a graceful arc, the blade slicing through the air with a low him. There was now a manic glint in the black abyss that was the Khal's eyes. There was no need for words to exchange as they both charged with their weapons ready.
The Khal's move was predictable, his arakh slicing in a sweeping arc aimed at his head.
Aegon deftly sidestepped, with his sword flashing in practised ease, aiming to catch the Khal before the man could recover. Khal Qerrmo jumped back with a speed Aegon thought impossible for a man of that size to pull off. There was now a dangerous grin stretching across the Khal's face. The Khal said something in his native language, which flew over Aegon's head but he could assume it was not anything nice by the sound and expression on the Khal's face.
The dance of combat continued in a whirlwind of steel. The arakh was a weapon he hadn't trained against, and that inexperience made Aegon cautious whenever the Khal came after him with speed and lethal precision. Each of the Khal's strikes was aimed to overwhelm with sheer power and speed.
Aegon, however, used his exemplary footwork to keep mobile on the field with grace, his sword deflecting and parrying each attack with unwavering focus. His lessons under the finest knights of the Seven Kingdoms came to him like a calm river, bolstering his body and mind with knowledge and wisdom of centuries of combat.
He could feel the frustration mounting within Khal Qerrmo as each blow became more frantic and unusually forceful than before. His shield was denting under the increasing force of attacks from the Khal.
'The flame that burns twice as bright burns half as long.' Aegon thought, noticing the Khal slowly starting to wear down.
With a quick thrust, Aegon aimed to stab through the Khal's thighs when the man came dangerously close. The Khal twisted away while trying to slice off his head. Aegon parried the arakh with his shield and pushed the weapon to a side.
Aegon closed the distance between them with a sudden burst of speed and aggressiveness. He pressed the attack, his sword slicing through the air in a series of decisive strikes. The Khal struggled to keep up with Aegon's sudden bout of aggressive swordplay.
His relentless assault finally bore fruit when an opening presented itself. The Khal left himself wide open while defending a high strike from his sword. Aegon used his shield to slam into the knee of the Khal, which left the warrior screaming in pain. He swiftly followed it by raising his shield and catching the Khal's chin in a blow that shattered the Dothraki warrior's jaw. Aegon could see a few teeth flying out of the Khal's mouth, accompanied by a spray of blood.
Aegon didn't waste the opportunity. He deftly stabbed his sword through the exposed shoulder of the Khal. The Khal howled in pain, and Aegon deftly kicked the Khal's chest to throw him away from his sword. His sword came loose from the Khal's shoulder with dark red blood drenched on its surface.
A look of fear, utter surprise, and pain crossed the Khal's face as the arakh fell from his sword. The weapon fell into the lush green ground with a dull thud.
Aegon stood over the Khal, breathing a bit haggardly, but he was in far better condition than the Khal. His mismatched eyes glowed eerily as he looked down on his defeated foe.
"You insulted and threatened my wife. Only death awaits those who threaten the love of my life." said Aegon, glaring at the barbarian who made crude claims about his wife.
Unlike the times in the past when he raised his sword to kill, this time, he didn't feel any disgust or hesitation. His hands were steady as he stared into the pitch-black eyes of his defeated foe. The steel whistled as his sword sliced through the air and the neck of Khal Qerrmo.
The Khal's head rolled on the ground while the rest of his body shook as blood gushed from the neck.
Aegon raised his sword and pointed it straight at the bloodriders of Khal Qerrmo.
"Anyone else feeling the urge to insult and threaten my wife?" he asked with blood dripping from his sword.
Only the silent whisper of the wind was heard on the battlefield, followed by the Khalasar kneeling on the ground following the lead of Khal Qerrmo's bloodriders.
"Dragons have tamed the stags, lions, falcons, krakens, trouts, roses and wolves of Westeros. The Stallions of Essos is no better." said Aegon, wiping the bloodstains from his sword.
Aegon took a deep breath, raised his sword and pointed it at the sky in victory, a broad smile spreading on his face while his men cheered. Fiendfyre, sensing his mood, let out a fierce roar with his massive black wings spread wide. They had won!
AN:
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