The khalasar remained behind.
As did Viserys Targaryen.
Whether they accepted him...
Or abandoned him...
Was no longer my concern.
I had made my choice.
Now I would see it through.
The first task was surprisingly simple.
Drogo's wealth had always traveled with the khalasar.
Great wooden chests filled with silver, gold ornaments, jeweled cups, bolts of fine silk, and gifts from a hundred conquered cities were loaded onto packhorses.
I claimed only what could be carried.
Enough gold to finance a journey.
Enough silver to hire ships.
Enough supplies to survive.
Nothing more.
The Dothraki cared little for gold.
To them...
Horses were true wealth.
Gold merely bought horses.
The three dragon eggs were wrapped carefully in thick blankets.
Even petrified...
They felt strangely warm.
Daenerys noticed it too.
"You feel it?"
I looked up.
"You do?"
She nodded slowly.
"They're... warm."
"Like they're alive."
I didn't answer.
Because I knew they were.
Not yet.
But soon.
Hopefully much sooner than they had in the history I remembered.
Finding horses proved easier.
Drogo's personal herd numbered in the hundreds.
As victor of the challenge, none disputed my claim to several of them.
One strong stallion carried the chests of gold.
Another bore supplies.
Two more carried water and food.
My own brown courser remained loyal despite everything.
Nymeria padded quietly beside him.
Several Dothraki horses shied away whenever the direwolf approached.
She ignored them.
Daenerys mounted awkwardly.
She hesitated before settling into the saddle.
"You've ridden before?"
"A little."
She adjusted herself carefully.
"Not often."
"I'll teach you."
She looked genuinely surprised.
"You will?"
"We have a long journey."
"And horses are faster than walking."
A small smile appeared on her face.
"I suppose they are."
After several hours of riding, she finally spoke.
"You saved me."
"I did."
"You didn't even know me."
"I knew enough."
She looked ahead across the endless grasslands.
"I thought..."
She swallowed.
"I thought today would be the end of my life."
"It was."
She looked at me in confusion.
"The life Viserys chose for you."
For several moments, she didn't answer.
Then she nodded.
"I suppose it was."
The khalasar slowly disappeared behind us.
No war horns sounded.
No riders pursued.
Whether they would follow Viserys...
Or splinter into smaller khalasars beneath ambitious kos...
Only time would tell.
It was no longer my concern.
I had what I came for.
We rode in silence for another hour.
The grasslands stretched endlessly around us.
Only the sound of hooves disturbed the afternoon.
Nymeria ranged ahead, disappearing into the sea of tall grass before returning every few minutes.
Always alert.
Always watching.
Daenerys watched the direwolf with open fascination.
"I've never seen anything like her."
"There aren't many left."
"Where did you find her?"
"She found me."
That wasn't entirely a lie.
Nymeria had chosen Arya.
And after Arya had driven her away...
She had chosen me.
Toward evening, Daenerys guided her mare alongside mine.
She was clearly still uncomfortable in the saddle.
Her posture lacked confidence.
More than once her horse drifted from the path before she corrected it.
"You've ridden before?"
"A little."
She looked almost embarrassed.
"My brother preferred carriages."
"I noticed."
A small laugh escaped her.
The first genuine one I'd heard.
"I'll teach you."
She blinked.
"You will?"
"We have a long journey."
"And horses don't care whether their rider is a king or a beggar."
"They only care whether you know what you're doing."
She smiled.
"I don't."
"You will."
As the sun dipped toward the western horizon, we made camp beside a small stream.
The horses were watered.
The pack saddles loosened.
I checked each of the dragon eggs personally before covering them again.
Daenerys noticed.
"You worry about them."
"I do."
"They're worth a fortune."
"They're worth far more than gold."
She looked puzzled.
I simply smiled.
Nymeria returned shortly before dusk.
A hare hung limp between her jaws.
She dropped it beside the fire and looked at me expectantly.
"You've spoiled her."
The direwolf huffed and lay beside the fire.
Daenerys cautiously reached out.
Nymeria watched her.
Then lowered her head.
"You may."
Daenerys hesitated before scratching behind one grey ear.
Nymeria's tail thumped softly against the ground.
"I think she likes me."
"That's not something many people can say."
The stars emerged one by one overhead.
For a long while...
Neither of us spoke.
Finally, Daenerys broke the silence.
"Why Valyria?"
I looked into the flames.
"Because there's something there I need."
"What?"
"I don't know if it still exists."
She tilted her head.
"You came all this way..."
"...for something you're not even sure is there?"
"Yes."
She studied me for several moments.
"You speak as though you've already seen the future."
I looked up.
For just an instant...
I considered telling her everything.
The Iron Throne.
The dragons.
The Others.
The Long Night.
Instead...
"I've been given a second chance."
"And I don't intend to waste it."
She accepted the answer, though it clearly raised more questions than it resolved.
After another silence, she asked quietly,
"Are you afraid?"
"Of Valyria?"
She nodded.
I looked east.
Beyond the grasslands...
Beyond the Narrow Sea...
Lay the smoking ruins that sailors feared more than death itself.
A land where dragons had once ruled.
Where the greatest civilization the world had destroyed itself in fire.
"Terrified."
Daenerys looked surprised by the honesty.
"But sometimes..."
I adjusted the sword at my side.
"...the most dangerous road is the only one worth taking."
From somewhere beyond the campfire, unseen by anyone but me, Celebrimbor watched the eastern horizon.
His expression had grown unreadable.
After several minutes, he finally spoke.
"If even half of what you told me of Valyria is true..."
His eyes reflected the firelight.
"...then we may be walking into a graveyard greater than even Mordor."
I stared into the darkness beyond the flames.
"I know."
Neither of us slept easily that night.
Morning came with a cool breeze sweeping across the endless grass.
Talion was awake before sunrise.
Old habits.
He quietly packed their camp while Daenerys still slept beneath her blanket. The horses were watered, saddled, and loaded with their supplies. The three dragon eggs were checked one final time before being secured atop the strongest packhorse.
Nymeria returned from the grasslands just as the eastern sky began to brighten.
There wasn't a scratch on her.
"Find anything?"
The direwolf simply huffed before nudging his shoulder.
Celebrimbor appeared beside the stream.
"You have company."
Talion's hand instinctively rested on the hilt of Joffrey's sword.
"Bandits?"
"No."
The Elf looked west.
"Dothraki."
Talion climbed a small rise overlooking the plains.
Far in the distance...
A handful of mounted riders galloped north.
Not toward them.
Away.
Likely scouts from the khalasar.
They never even looked in Talion's direction.
He relaxed.
"They've chosen their future."
"For now."
By midmorning they were riding once more.
The endless Dothraki Sea slowly began changing around them.
The tall grasses grew shorter.
The land flatter.
Small streams became more common.
In the distance Talion could occasionally make out smoke rising from isolated shepherd camps.
The lands surrounding the Free Cities were approaching.
Daenerys rode beside him.
She still bounced awkwardly in the saddle.
Her legs already ached.
Talion noticed.
"Keep your heels down."
She adjusted her feet.
"Like this?"
"A little lower."
She tried again.
"Better."
She smiled.
"I didn't think riding would hurt this much."
"It hurts everyone at first."
"Even you?"
"I could barely walk after"
She laughed.
"I find that difficult to imagine."
"I couldn't sit comfortably for days."
That earned a genuine laugh.
Even Celebrimbor looked mildly amused.
The hours passed peacefully.
Talion found himself appreciating something he hadn't experienced since arriving in Westeros.
Silence.
No patrols.
No training.
No assassins.
Just open sky.
Rolling plains.
And the steady rhythm of hoofbeats.
As the sun climbed higher...
Daenerys finally asked the question she'd clearly been holding back.
"You said you served a knight."
"I did."
"For how long?"
"Eight years."
She looked surprised.
"Eight?"
"I began when I was seven."
"You were a child."
"So was every page."
"What was his name?"
"Ser Damon Vypren."
"What was he like?"
Talion smiled.
"Demanding."
"Unforgiving."
"Honest."
"He taught me everything I know."
"He sounds frightening."
"He was."
A pause.
"He was also the closest thing I had to an older brother."
For the first time since leaving the khalasar...
Talion felt a pang in his chest.
Damon believed he was dead.
So did Lucias.
So did his parents.
He pushed the thought aside.
Not yet.
They had to believe it.
The flatlands slowly gave way to cultivated fields.
Stone walls appeared.
Windmills turned lazily in the afternoon breeze.
Farmers guided oxen through freshly plowed earth.
Civilization.