Game of Thrones Iron Stark

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Game of Thrones: The Dragon Who Remembers

Game of Thrones: What Must Be Done

Khal Drogo rode into the Guatemala region today, ready to break the Masai.

The Masai were a brutal horse tribe who lived on lion meat and sometimes even hunted elephants—things no other Dothraki, not even Drogo's own bloodriders, would touch. Their strength came from generations of fighting a savage land. Now the snakes were mostly gone, leaving only herds of cattle and sheep, plus lions, leopards, elephants, and rhinos. The Masai still ate meat every meal, lion meat above all.

The lions had learned to fear them.

A soft wind moved across the endless grass. Herds of sheep and cattle grazed peacefully under a perfect blue sky. The sheep drifted like white clouds. The cattle chewed slowly, lowing now and then. Wildflowers of every color swayed in the breeze.

Then one sheep found a seven-colored bloom.

It ate the flower and went wild, tearing into more. The other animals watched, then followed. Soon the entire herd was devouring the strange flowers. The green grass vanished beneath a rolling sea of red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet. The cattle and sheep went crazy—kicking, charging, bleating and lowing like they'd lost their minds.

Hidden in the brush, a band of Masai hunters stared in shock.

"Marcos, do we still hunt them?" one whispered. "The lions are gone and these animals look rabid. What if we catch whatever they have?"

Marcos, a massive warrior, stared at the flowers carpeting the ground.

"Careful. These are the demon flowers from the old prophecy. The ones that would turn the land barren and drive the herds mad."

The Masai looked around. The flowers had surrounded them completely. No way out.

"Cut a path and run!" Marcos barked. "Now!"

They hacked through the blooms with their spears and fled. As they ran, Marcos remembered the ancient words spoken by the tribal priest when the Masai first claimed this land:

"One day the demon flowers will rise. The earth will grow nothing but death. The herds will turn on each other. Only when the horse people finally unite into one khalasar will a noble soul bearing flame come to save us."

Back in Sheep Village, Slow Sheep made his decision.

"We burn them out. Wildfire. Everything."

Happy Sheep's eyes went wide. "Village Chief, that's suicide! We saw what wildfire does in the lab—it melts steel!"

Slow Sheep's voice was cold and steady.

"If we don't kill every root, the flowers win. Anyone who eats them stays awake until their brain burns out. Humans die. Cattle and horses just go mad, attack each other, then crash hard if they run out of flowers. We have to destroy the roots completely."

Happy Sheep swallowed. "But how do we find the roots?"

"The dragons can sense them. They're magic-born. You, Boiling Sheep, Beautiful Sheep, and Warm Sheep will take the three young dragons and every canister of wildfire we have. Move at night when the flowers go dormant. Burn the roots to ash."

Happy Sheep nodded once. "We'll do it."

That night Daenerys stood at the gate holding her infant daughter. She watched Happy Sheep and the others slip out with the three tiny dragons—Balerion, Vhagar, and Meraxes—trotting at their heels like oversized cats. The dragons had been raised on sheep milk and trusted the sheep folk completely.

Daenerys whispered into the dark.

"Balerion. Vhagar. Meraxes. Ancestors, dragon god—watch over them. Bring them back safe."

The little dragons lifted their noses, sniffed the night air, then all three necks swung in the same direction.

Happy Sheep grinned in the moonlight.

"That way. Let's move."

Four sheep and three dragons walked into the sea of sleeping flowers, carrying enough wildfire to turn the roots of madness into smoke.