Daenerys stared at me.
For several long moments...
She said nothing.
The silence between us seemed almost unbearable.
Finally, she spoke.
"...You asked me what I wanted."
"I did."
"And I answered."
"You did."
She lowered her eyes.
"I don't want to marry him."
"I don't want to belong to anyone."
She laughed bitterly.
"But wanting has never mattered."
"No."
I stepped closer, keeping my voice low.
"But perhaps..."
"It can."
Her violet eyes met mine again.
"How?"
I took a slow breath.
"I'm going to challenge Khal Drogo."
The room fell completely silent.
Daenerys blinked.
"I'm sorry..."
"...what?"
"Tomorrow."
"At the wedding."
"I'll challenge him."
She simply stared.
Then...
She laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because it sounded impossible.
"You're serious."
"I am."
"You're one man."
"Yes."
"He has forty thousand riders."
"I know."
"And you intend to challenge their Khal?"
"I do."
Her expression became one of genuine disbelief.
"That's suicide."
"Probably."
She frowned.
"Probably?"
I shrugged.
"I've already died once."
That earned another confused look.
"...What?"
"Long story."
She stood and walked toward the balcony.
Below, servants continued preparing for tomorrow's feast.
Torches illuminated the gardens.
Hundreds of people moved through the estate.
"They'll kill you."
"Perhaps."
"No."
She turned sharply.
"They will kill you."
"They worship him."
"They'll tear you apart."
I joined her on the balcony.
"They might."
"But I don't think so."
She frowned.
"You don't know the Dothraki."
"I know enough."
I rested my hands on the stone railing.
"The Dothraki respect strength."
"They follow whoever proves worthy."
She nodded reluctantly.
"Yes."
"If a Khal falls..."
"The strongest succeeds."
"Usually."
I looked toward the moonlit plain beyond Pentos.
"So if I challenge him openly..."
"And defeat him fairly..."
"The khalasar can't simply murder me."
"They'd be breaking their own customs."
Daenerys looked uncertain.
"You... know about their customs?"
"I know enough."
"Not everything."
"But enough."
She shook her head.
"You don't understand."
"Drogo has never lost."
"I know."
"He has fought since he was a boy."
"I know."
"He has never cut his braid."
"I know."
She looked almost frustrated.
"Then why?"
"Because someone has to give you a choice."
Her expression softened.
"You don't even know me."
"I know enough."
Celebrimbor finally spoke.
Though only I could hear him.
"You reveal much without revealing the truth."
"I know."
"You have decided."
"Yes."
"Even should it cost your life?"
I looked at Daenerys.
A frightened girl.
Far from home.
With no one willing to ask what she wanted.
"i am a knight afterall"
Silence stretched between them.
Finally, Daenerys asked the question that had been weighing on her mind since he had appeared on her balcony.
"Who are you?"
I smiled sadly.
For a lie.
She didn't find one.
"My name..."
I hesitated.
"...is Celebrimbor."
That man had been buried beneath an empty coffin.
Only Talion and Celebrimbor remained.
Daenerys walked back toward the center of the room.
"I don't know whether you're incredibly brave..."
"...or completely mad."
I chuckled.
"My old mentor used to say those were often the same thing."
For the first time that evening...
She smiled.
A real smile.
Small.
Fleeting.
But genuine.
"I hope you know what you're doing."
I looked toward the dark horizon beyond Pentos.
Where tens of thousands of Dothraki campfires burned like stars across the plains.
"So do I."
Because by this time tomorrow...
I would either be dead for the second time...
Or I would have defeated the greatest khal alive before the eyes of forty thousand horse-lords.
There would be no middle ground.
The sun hung low over the grasslands outside Pentos.
Smoke from hundreds of cookfires drifted into the clear blue sky.
The khalasar had gathered.
Thousands upon thousands of horses grazed across the endless plain.
Warriors laughed.
Children raced between the tents.
Women prepared great feasts over roaring fires.
It was unlike anything Westeros had ever seen.
An entire nation...
Moving as one.
I reined in my horse atop a low ridge.
Beside me, Nymeria stood motionless.
Her silver-grey fur rippled in the breeze.
Even she seemed to understand that this place belonged to predators.
Celebrimbor appeared beside me.
His eyes swept across the sea of riders.
"Remarkable."
I nodded.
"They're unlike any people I've ever known."
Far below...
The great tent of Khal Drogo dominated the encampment.
Hundreds of riders surrounded it.
Banners of braided horsehair fluttered above the camp.
Music echoed across the grasslands.
The wedding feast had already begun.
"You still have time to leave."
Celebrimbor's voice was calm.
I smiled faintly.
"I passed that point yesterday."
"Indeed."
He looked toward the gathering.
"You know what awaits."
"I do."
"If I lose..."
"I die."
"If I win..."
I looked over the endless khalasar.
"...everything changes."
I rode straight into the khalasar.
No one stopped me.
The Dothraki looked up from their cooking fires as I passed.
Some laughed.
Some ignored me entirely.
A few watched with open curiosity.
Foreigners came and went from the khalasar.
Merchants.
Envoys.
Advisers.
One more rider was hardly worth drawing steel over.
Nymeria changed that.
The great direwolf padded silently beside my horse.
Children stopped playing.
Horses whinnied uneasily.
Several riders reached instinctively for their arakhs before realizing the beast wasn't attacking.
She simply walked beside me.
The laughter slowly faded.
Eyes followed us wherever we went.
Not because of me.
Because no one present had ever seen a wolf the size of a horse.
The center of the khalasar soon came into view.
The largest tent stood open to the afternoon air.
Richly woven carpets stretched before it.
Servants hurried between tables laden with food and drink.
Warriors sat in loose circles, drinking fermented mare's milk while musicians played.
At the center of it all...
Khal Drogo.
He sat upon a low carved seat outside his open tent, surrounded by his bloodriders.
Beside him sat Daenerys Targaryen.
Dressed in white silk.
Beautiful.
Nervous.
Our eyes met for only an instant.
She gave no sign that we had spoken the previous night.
I dismounted.
The brown courser remained where I left him.
Nymeria sat calmly at my side.
Every conversation nearby gradually died away.
One by one...
Heads turned.
Not because they recognized me.
Because I had walked directly before the Khal without invitation.
Drogo regarded me in silence.
His dark eyes lingered first on me...
Then on Nymeria.
For the first time...
A murmur spread through the gathered Dothraki.
Even the horses shifted uneasily.
Drogo spoke a short sentence in Dothraki.
Celebrimbor listened carefully.
"He asks why a stranger stands before him."
I inclined my head respectfully.
"My name is Talion."
"I have crossed the Narrow Sea to stand before Khal Drogo."
The Khal studied me for another long moment.
Waiting.
I reached for the sword at my hip.
Instantly, several bloodriders rose to their feet.
Arakhs slid from their sheaths.
Nymeria answered with a low growl that rolled across the camp like distant thunder.
Drogo never moved.
Neither did I.
I drew Joffrey's sword.
Instead of raising it...
I turned it point downward and drove it into the earth before the Khal's tent.
The ringing of steel echoed across the silent camp.
"I have come to issue a challenge."
Not a single voice answered.
Thousands of Dothraki watched.
Waiting to see how their Khal would respond.
Khal Drogo remained seated for another long moment, his dark eyes studying me as if trying to understand why a lone foreign knight had ridden into the heart of forty thousand Dothraki.
Then...
He stood.
A murmur spread through the gathered riders.
The Khal walked forward until only a few paces separated us.
His bloodriders rose with him, but remained behind.
This was his challenge.
His alone.
Drogo spoke in Dothraki.
Celebrimbor listened.
"He asks whether you understand what you have done."
"I do."
"I challenge Khal Drogo..."
"...for his khalasar."
My eyes shifted briefly toward Daenerys.
"...and for his wife."
The words rippled through the crowd.
Drogo smiled.
Not mockingly.
Confidently.
He drew his arakh.
The curved blade flashed in the afternoon sun.
He spoke a single sentence in Dothraki.
Celebrimbor listened before translating.
"He says many men have challenged Khal Drogo."
The Khal slowly swept his gaze across the assembled riders.
Then back to me.
Celebrimbor continued.
"'Their bones feed the grass.'"
A ripple of laughter spread through the khalasar.
Drogo took another step forward.
He spoke again.
Celebrimbor smiled faintly.
"'No man who has stood before me with steel has lived to boast of it.'"
"Then today..."
I settled into Damon's familiar guard.
"...you meet the first."
Around us...
Forty thousand Dothraki watched in eager anticipation.
Not because they expected an upset.
But because they had seen this spectacle before.
A fool.
A challenger.
Another dead man walking.
Only Talion...
And Celebrimbor...
Believed the ending might be different
Celebrimbor's voice echoed softly in my mind.
"He is larger."
"I noticed."
"Longer reach."
"I noticed."
"Do not match his strength."
"I wasn't planning to."
Drogo smiled.
Then attacked.
He covered the distance astonishingly fast.
The curved arakh swept toward my neck.
I barely caught the blow.
Steel screamed.
The force almost tore Joffrey's sword from my hand.
I staggered back three steps.
The khalasar roared with approval.
Celebrimbor spoke calmly.
"Good."
"What?"
"Now you know."
Drogo didn't pause.
Another slash.
Lower.
Faster.
I retreated.
The blade cut through empty air inches from my stomach.
Another strike.
Then another.
He never stopped moving.
Every attack flowed into the next.
Like water.
Like a horse at full gallop.
I understood immediately why no challenger had ever survived.
He wasn't merely strong.
He was relentless.
I parried another blow.
Pain shot through my arms.
Celebrimbor remained calm.
"Stop blocking."
"What?"
"You cannot outmatch him."
Another swing.
I sidestepped instead.
The arakh missed.
Barely.
"Better."
Drogo laughed.
He began speaking in Dothraki as they fought.
Celebrimbor translated between strikes.
"'Run, little knight.'"
Another attack.
"'You live longer that way.'"
I couldn't help smiling.
"Tell him..."
I ducked beneath another slash.
"...I've heard better insults from my father."
Celebrimbor almost sounded amused.
"Focus."
Minutes passed.
Neither man landed a decisive blow.
Sweat ran into my eyes.
Drogo's breathing remained steady.
Mine...
Less so.
He was stronger.
Faster.
More experienced.
But he had expected me to die quickly.
Instead...
I continued standing.
The laughter among the Dothraki disappeared.
They began watching.
Really watching.
Celebrimbor suddenly spoke.
"His left foot."
"What about it?"
"Watch."
I did.
Every heavy strike...
The left foot planted first.
Every overhead attack...
The same.
A habit.
Not a weakness.
Yet.
Drogo roared and charged again.
This time he swung with everything he had.
I stepped aside.
The arakh struck the ground.
Only for an instant.
But...
An instant was enough.
I cut across his forearm.
Blood splashed onto the grass.
The khalasar gasped.
Drogo looked at the wound.
Then at me.
His smile vanished.
For the first time...
The Khal grew angry.
He attacked harder.
Less carefully.
Celebrimbor's voice remained level.
"Good."
"I preferred him smiling."
"No."
Another slash.
I barely avoided it.
"An angry warrior thinks less."
The duel stretched on.
Neither spoke.
Only steel.
Boots.
Breathing.
The ringing of blades echoed across the camp.
Then...
Drogo made his first mistake.
He committed fully to a wide horizontal cut.
Too much power.
Too much confidence.
Celebrimbor spoke only one word.
"Now."
I stepped inside the swing.
Exactly as Damon had drilled into me thousands of times.
"Close the distance."
"A long blade is weakest where it cannot cut."
My shoulder slammed into Drogo's chest.
The Khal stumbled.
For the first time in his life...
He lost his footing.
I drove my elbow into his jaw.
He reeled backward.
Before he could recover...
I thrust.
Straight beneath his ribs.
The sword slid deep.
Drogo froze.
His eyes widened.
Not in pain.
In disbelief.
He looked down at the blade buried in his chest.
Then back at me.
For a heartbeat...
Neither of us moved.
I pulled the sword free.
The Khal staggered backward.
One step.
Then another.
Blood poured from the wound.
He dropped his arakh.
His eyes never left mine.
There was no hatred in them.
Only the realization that...
For the first time...
He had been beaten.
He collapsed forward onto the grass.
The greatest Khal of his generation...
Moved no more.
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Forty thousand Dothraki stared at the body of the man they had believed invincible.
I lowered my sword.
My arms trembled from exhaustion.
Not because of magic.
Because I had just fought the hardest duel of my life.
Celebrimbor stood beside me.
His voice was quiet.
Almost respectful.
"You did not defeat him through greater strength."
"No."
"Nor through greater speed."
I shook my head.
"Damon always said..."
I watched the fallen Khal.
"...the better swordsman doesn't always win."
Celebrimbor looked at me.
"What did he say?"
I cleaned the blood from my blade.
"The one who makes the last mistake..."
"...usually loses."
Before another word could be spoken—
One of Drogo's bloodriders let out a furious roar.
Then another.
Steel flashed from four arakhs at once.
The bloodriders charged