Game of Thrones Iron Stark

The thatched hut felt smaller once they were all inside. The Sheep Witch poured tea for everyone. The steam carried a clean, sharp scent that cleared the head the moment it touched the tongue.

Daenerys drank and felt the tension behind her eyes ease for the first time in days. The nightmares had been waking her every night.

The witch waited until every cup was empty, then turned to Lazy Sheep.

"Speak. Tell us your dream."

Lazy Sheep pointed at himself, confused. "Me? I thought you wanted the princess to go first."

The witch's eyes crinkled behind her spectacles. "Every fate here is tied together. Your dream may be a warning for her as much as for you."

Lazy Sheep took a deep breath and began.

"I saw wolf-men hunting in the snow. They killed wild boar and deer and ate the meat raw. The blood turned the white drifts red. One of them had a strange face. He ran with another wolf who only ate bananas, but this one ate flesh like the rest of them.

They fought the dead. Bodies crawled out of the ground and attacked a fortress made of ice and wood. Inside the fort were more wolves and men dressed in black furs—like a flock of crows. Together they drove the corpses back.

Then I heard the ground crack far to the north. The earth split open and giants climbed out. They pushed against the great ice wall until it fell."

He stopped, looking small and frightened. "That's all. It scared me so bad I haven't slept right since. I even lost weight." He patted his round belly.

The others laughed despite themselves.

The witch nodded once. "You will sleep soundly tonight, Lazy Sheep. I promise."

She turned to Daenerys. "Now you."

Daenerys steadied her breathing and spoke.

"I flew on the back of a great dragon, high above the clouds. I felt the wind and the heat of its body.

A monster rose from the sea—something with many arms like a kraken. It seized a dragon and tried to drag it under.

I stood in a sea of mist and heard terrible roars that made my bones ache.

Fourteen dead volcanoes woke at once. Fire poured from their peaks and flame birds rose from the lava—creatures that could not burn and would not die.

I saw a god, or a man, standing on a mountain of corpses. Every face had been peeled away.

Last, I saw wolves running across the snow, bringing winter with them. They danced in the sky with dragons that breathed fire. They were not enemies. They moved together like old allies."

The hut went quiet.

The Sheep Witch reached into a pouch and pulled out a handful of the long green grass the sheep people chewed. She muttered strange words while she worked—"Maka baka, maka baka. Alpha, beta, gamma"—then dropped the grass into a small pot and boiled it until it became a thin, bitter broth.

She poured it into cups and handed them around.

"Drink. After this you will not dream again. But the dreams you have already seen are true omens. The future is not written in stone. It is a blade in your hand. Grip it tightly."

They drank. The broth tasted of earth and smoke. When the cups were empty, the witch ushered them out and shut the door behind them without another word.

Daenerys stood in the sunlight for a moment, then looked at her handmaids.

"We're going back. Tonight we sleep without fear."

---

On the wide grass sea two khalasars met in open battle.

Horses thundered. Arakhs flashed in the sun. Men screamed and died while the grass turned red beneath their feet. Drogo's riders fought like men possessed. They had cut their long braids short, and the enemy had mistaken the change for weakness. The surprise cost them everything.

When the last enemy warrior fell, the survivors were dragged before Drogo's horse.

One of them spat blood and glared up at him. "We grew careless. Drogo… it really is you."

Drogo smiled, the short stubble on his scalp catching the light. "It is. Cutting the braid made you think we were soft. That was the point."

The captive bared his teeth. "Then kill me clean or flay me slow. I will not beg."

Drogo shook his head. "I am done killing khals. I will take their men instead. I mean to build something greater than any khalasar that has ever ridden. A true Dothraki empire."

The captive stared. "You spit on the horse god. You spit on every tradition we have."

Drogo's voice stayed calm. "When Valyria ruled the world, where were we? When the Andals came, when the Ghiscari rose, where did the Dothraki stand? Scattered. Raiding. Dying in small wars while stronger peoples took what they wanted. If we stay the same, we will always be prey. I will make us rulers instead."

He leaned down from the saddle. "Join me, Pol. Fight beside me and we will take Westeros and all of Essos. Every land under one khalasar. One empire."

Pol was silent for a long time. Around them the victors stripped the dead and gathered the horses. The wind carried the smell of blood and trampled grass.

At last Pol spoke. "If you are the one the gods have chosen, I will follow you to the ends of the world. If you are not… I will take your head and your horse and finish what you started."

Drogo laughed, loud and fierce. He reached down and cut the ropes binding Pol's wrists.

"Then we begin today."

That night the two khalasars camped together for the first time. Fires burned across the plain. Men who had tried to kill each other hours earlier now shared meat and fermented milk. Drogo sat at the center, no longer just a khal.

He had taken his first step toward something much larger.