Game of Thrones Iron Stark

Warm Sheep strained every muscle and ripped the massive root of the Qiq i flower straight out of the earth.

"Now!" she roared. "Burn it!"

She held the throbbing, heart-like root high above her head.

Happy Sheep and the others yanked the wildfire canisters from their packs and poured the green liquid over the exposed root.

"Light it!"

They froze. The fire starter was gone.

"Shit! Happy Sheep, what do we do?" Beautiful Sheep cried.

Happy Sheep bounced in place, spun through the air like a madman, then landed hard on Warm Sheep's giant head.

"I got it! Drogo, look at them!"

"The dragons!" Boiling Sheep shouted. "They can breathe fire!"

"Careful, squad leader!" Beautiful Sheep yelled. "Don't let the wildfire touch you!"

"For the flowers!" Warm Sheep growled, gripping the root with everything she had left. Her time as a giant was almost up.

Happy Sheep, Beautiful Sheep, and Boiling Sheep each grabbed one of the baby dragons. The three tiny beasts lined up in formation.

"Dragonfire," Happy Sheep commanded.

The dragons — Drogo, Rhaegar, and Viserion — had never breathed real flame before. Not until this moment, in the hands of the sheep folk.

Three thin jets of fire shot from their mouths and slammed into the root.

The wildfire caught instantly. Flames raced up Warm Sheep's wool like dry grass in a drought. Her giant body was the perfect fuel.

Then the growth pill wore off.

Warm Sheep shrank back to normal size in a heartbeat. The wildfire vanished with her. The three sheep folk tumbled out of the sky.

"AAAAAHHH!"

But something grabbed their horns.

They looked up. The three baby dragons were flapping furiously, tiny claws locked onto the sheep's horns, trying desperately to slow their fall.

It wasn't enough.

They hit the ground hard — but a sudden gust of wind caught them at the last second and set them down gently.

The root was gone. Every Qiq i flower in the sea turned to fine, rainbow powder and drifted away on the breeze. The colorful dust looked beautiful… and deadly.

---

Far to the south, Khal Drogo finally reached the Guatemala region and the Masai — the strongest tribe among the horse people.

Both sides recognized each other the moment they met.

One side rode horses and carried arakhs.

The other walked barefoot and carried long spears, dressed in golden lion pelts.

Drogo had once hunted a white lion for Daenerys and given her the pelt. But those white lions were sick and weak. Nothing like the real golden lions the Masai wore.

"The greatest of all Dothraki," one of Drogo's bloodriders said after dismounting. "Khal Drogo. The strongest khal in history. The Horse King himself."

Drogo dismounted. Every Dothraki followed.

Marcos, the tall, handsome Masai leader, stepped forward.

"Khal Drogo? Maybe you are the king the prophecy spoke of. But something doesn't fit. You didn't stop the flower sea, did you? That wasn't you."

The two sides began murmuring in their own tongues. The Masai understood Dothraki but had their own dialect the horse people couldn't follow.

"Maybe the savior is a woman?"

"How does she carry fire? Is she a witch?"

"If he didn't stop the flowers, is he really the one who unites us?"

Marcos walked up to Drogo.

"You've come far. Rest first. We can talk about everything else later."

---

After the Qiq i flowers died, the grassland returned to life.

Endless green stretched to the horizon under a flawless blue sky. White clouds drifted like lazy sheep. Golden sunlight warmed every blade of grass. The air smelled fresh and alive.

Herds of horses thundered across the plain. Cattle and sheep grazed peacefully. Ancient trees stood tall at the edges, their branches waving in the breeze like welcoming hands.

In the distance, low mountains rose like sleeping dragons. The setting sun painted everything in warm gold.

The surviving tribes looked out over the restored land and felt something shift inside them. They had survived the demon flowers. They had seen the true size of the grass sea and the mercy of the world that let it heal.

They understood now — protect this land, or lose everything.

The heroes who saved it were in trouble.

Happy Sheep and the others knelt around Warm Sheep, sobbing. Her wool was almost completely black. She lay unconscious. By normal sheep standards she should already be dead. But she was mixed blood — ram blood ran strong in her veins, healing her from the inside.

The three baby dragons whined and pressed against her. They had felt her power when she was giant. It reminded them of the ancient dragons in their blood — Balerion, Vhagar, Meraxes. From that moment on, none of them would ever eat sheep meat again.

A low rumble rolled across the sky. Thunder. Then soft rain began to fall, cool and gentle, soaking the grass sea.

Warm Sheep's face twitched under the raindrops. Her fingers moved.

She opened her eyes and saw three crying faces hovering over her.

"Why are you all crying?" she asked, voice hoarse. "Is it just the rain?"