The Undead Horde Of The Great Grass Sea (GOT)

The many slaves that were dying piled up, but those who survived after reaching their quotas were given spears, their chains unshackled, and the right to live among the warrior class given to them. Those with skills in building were placed among the artisans and given their own tools. I was a man of my word. Horses were bred, and more of the black horses were being birthed by the day. The word "warhorse" had taken on a new tone with this new breed—vicious, larger, and loyal to a single rider. I aimed to field well over one hundred thousand Dothraki and leave at least ten thousand in the two cities that belonged to the Dothraki. Even though Vaes Dothrak was not directly mine, the city served as a good breeding ground for future soldiers.

Audience Hall in the Horse Palace

The hall was packed to the brim with young khals from deep in the plains, drawn by the news of my marching orders and legendary feats. Khal Motho and his kos were also present, sitting by my side. Behind me were Maria, Riena, Ayana, and Daenerys. Each wore ornate skull masks—more morbid than decorative—crafted from the remains of the four Khals I had slain. Their attire of silks and robes left little to the imagination, contrasting sharply with the macabre nature of their masks. Many eyes were drawn to them, a blend of allure and intimidation.

Among the visitors was a woman with olive skin, long silky black hair, and a silver circlet on her head. She wore bright orange and yellow silken robes, adorned with ornate jewelry that accentuated her figure. Three hairy men accompanied her, their bearded faces and hirsute bodies making them seem more like apes than men. These were priests, along with ten warrior priests armed with two-handed axes. Unlike the woman, they lacked any fear in their eyes. Near them sat a recovering Viserys, covering his face with a scarf. He was flanked by the twins, now easier to distinguish since one was missing a hand. Despite his handicap, he had maintained his position, fending off challenges with unyielding resolve.

I looked at the woman and spoke in Dothraki, my voice calm but deliberate. "Woman of the West, no… a princess. You have come to surrender?" Maria translated my words for the visitors.

The woman responded in a soft tone, "My name is Mellario, Princess Consort of Dorne and a lady of Norvos. We have come to discuss terms to curb the possibility of conflict." The priests tensed at my statement, but I raised a hand to silence them, waiting for the woman to continue.

She did not falter. "Great Khal Rohan, the Undead Khal," she said, attempting to flatter me. "We know your numbers are vast, your men strong, and your resources plentiful. On our journey here, we saw your encampments, the chimneys, and heard the Common Tongue spoken widely. It is clear you left no one alive in Qohor. But know this: Essos prides itself on being free from Valyrian rule. No matter how strong your armies are, they would rather drown and burn than bend to your rule."

I paused for a moment, contemplating her words, then glanced at Daenerys and Viserys. At my nod, both revealed their faces. Viserys's white hair and purple eyes caught Mellario's attention immediately, but Daenerys's presence unsettled her even more. Her purple, slit-pupil eyes seemed to pierce the very soul.

"The people you see are the key to the kingdoms across the Narrow Sea," I said, my tone cold. "When you say you will not bend, you are mistaken. Woman of Norvos, bride of Dorne, I am not here to force you. I am here to give you an opportunity. Be my slaves, work for your freedom, and join my horde. I do not rule with legitimacy. I rule with strength and fear. Submit. Breed soldiers for my cause. Or die and cease to exist as a people."

Maria translated my words. Mellario's shock was evident, though she tried to mask it. The priests, however, remained defiant. One of them finally spoke up. "We, the bearded priests, are willing to die for our faith. You eradicated the headquarters of the Black Goat faith. What is stopping you from doing the same to ours if we submit to your whims?"

I glanced at the man, then began, my voice steady and commanding. "The boy with the white hair is a prince and a future king. I told him the same: I will give him his throne, for I am no king. Khal Motho, respected by his khalasar, has been promised this city for the rest of his days. I do not desire a crown. But I bring kingdoms to their knees. Priest, all under the skies is mine to take. All that breathes is mine to reap. All your women are mine to fuck. This world will know my order, for my horde will ride through Essos in a year and a half. And in another five years, I will set foot on Westeros. I will reign until the Great Stallion sees I have mounted the world. So whether you pray to a fly or a god, I am the will of conquest."

My words settled heavily in the room. A slave, panicked, approached Daenerys and whispered something inaudible to me. Her reaction was immediate and intense. She donned her mask and addressed the room in her melodic voice, "Apologies for my impolite behavior, but I must leave. Something has come up." She moved toward me and whispered in my ear, "They are hatching."

For a moment, I was stunned. I gestured to Doromon and Kota to accompany her. The commotion overshadowed the tension in the hall. Mellario's gaze followed Daenerys, confusion and fear mingling in her expression.

"My riders, my warriors, may not look fierce when you glance around this hall," I said, gesturing to the mostly bare-chested men and the women seated silently. "But if you doubt their strength, let me show you what will be heading to your walls. We are but a moon's ride from Norvos. By river, we are weeks away."

I rose, my command cutting through the room. "To the training fields," I ordered. The visitors, tense and wary, followed as I led them to the stables, where my chariot stood in all its glory. I should name the horses soon; they deserved more than to be collectively called Dullahan. This was only the beginning.