Game of Thrones Iron Stark

The Dothraki Sea stretched endless under the sun, a rolling ocean of green grass that met the sky. Wildflowers dotted the plains. In the distance, flocks of sheep drifted like white clouds across the hills.

Happy Sheep rode straight across it on Khal Drogo's own prized stallion. The horse had accepted him only because he carried its master's braid, thick and heavy, strung with bells that rang with every stride.

He smiled to himself. "Hope they don't shit themselves when they see what we did to their great Khal."

The camp appeared ahead — rows of tents, cookfires, warriors on watch, women working, children running and laughing. Two Dothraki riders spotted him and raised their arakhs.

"Stop! Who are you?"

"Sheep," Happy Sheep answered cheerfully, patting the stallion's neck. "I'm here to talk to your Khaleesi about Khal Drogo."

One warrior ran to fetch someone. The other kept his blade ready.

Jorah Mormont arrived wearing armor that looked out of place among the horse lords. He studied the rider and the familiar horse.

"Sheep messenger. The Khaleesi will see you."

Happy Sheep slid off the stallion and tossed the reins to a bloodrider. He carried Drogo's long braid in one hand, bells chiming softly.

Daenerys sat on a low bed inside the largest tent, one hand resting on her swollen belly. Silver hair framed her face. She looked tired but regal.

Happy Sheep knelt, took her hand, and kissed the back of it with perfect grace. "Khaleesi. I bring greetings from Sheep Village."

Daenerys studied him. He was nothing like the rough Lhazareen she expected — sharp eyes, clean hands, a playful curl of wool on his head, and a golden bell hanging from a blue ribbon around his neck.

"You are not from Westeros," she said.

"Farther east. The Green Grassland. But that doesn't matter right now." Happy Sheep smiled. "We have your Khal. We're willing to return him and his bloodriders. In exchange we want peace. No more raids on our lands."

Daenerys didn't hesitate. "Name your price."

A chest was brought forward. Inside lay one golden dragon egg.

Happy Sheep's eyes lit up for a second, then he nodded. "Your sincerity is noted. Our Village Chief gives me full authority. Send one representative with me. We will release Khal Drogo the moment the treaty is signed."

Daenerys turned to Jorah. "Go with him, Ser Jorah. Bring my sun and stars home."

"I will not fail you, Khaleesi."

Happy Sheep unrolled two identical sheepskin treaties. The Dothraki around them went still. Using sheepskin felt like deliberate mockery.

Daenerys read it quickly and signed both copies without argument.

"Take this," Happy Sheep said, laying Drogo's thick braid on the ground. The bells clinked against the dirt.

Every bloodrider in the tent drew steel.

"Stop!" Daenerys commanded. She stared at the braid, face pale. "Go. Bring him back whole. Please."

Happy Sheep bowed. "As you wish. Ser Jorah, try to keep up."

He took off running.

Jorah mounted and spurred after him. The sheep-man moved like the wind. Even at full gallop Jorah could barely match the pace, and Happy Sheep had to stop several times to let the horse rest.

By the time they reached the iron walls of Sheep Village, Jorah's mount was lathered and trembling.

Boiling Sheep opened the heavy gate. He wore a blue armband over thick white wool and brown sandals, chest hair proudly on display.

"Happy Sheep! You're back. Who's the tall one?"

"Jorah Mormont. Representative for the Khaleesi. Dragon egg's secured. Treaty's signed. Time to let the horse lords go."

Boiling Sheep nodded. "Leave it to me."

He led Jorah into the holding area. Drogo and his bloodriders sat inside strong iron cells. They weren't beaten, but they looked pale and weak. Every single one of them had lost his long braid. Their heads were roughly shorn. Each man wore a thick, ugly sheep-wool sweater that hung off their shoulders.

Jorah's stomach turned. "What did you do to them?"

Boiling Sheep shrugged. "Didn't abuse them. Just sheared the braids and gave them proper clothes. They wouldn't eat our grass cakes and biscuits, though. Kept complaining."

He unlocked the cells.

"Time to go home. We even gave you sweaters. Be grateful. And stay the hell away from our sheep from now on."

Drogo said nothing. He simply walked out, mounted the horse they returned to him, and rode south with his bloodriders in silence.

When they reached the khalasar, Daenerys was waiting at the edge of camp.

Drogo swung down from the saddle the moment he saw her.

"My moon," he said, voice rough.

He pulled her into his arms, one big hand cradling her belly, and held her like he never intended to let go again.