Miller's Return Pt.II

"Yah!"

"Yah!"

The echoes of men and women spurring their horses on boomed through the land. They had been riding hard for days and finally, Khal Zhano roared, "Hold!"

The horde came to a canter, then a complete stop. Miles out from the east, The Horde looked west over the free city of Pentos.

ven though Pentos has massive, high walls, it is often regarded as the most vulnerable of the Free Cities. The city has many square brick towers. Most of the roofing is done in tiles. Pentos has walled estates, such as manses belonging to Magister Illyrio Mopatis and Khal Drogo. The Sunrise Gate allows the traveler to exit the city to the east, in the direction of the Rhoyne. --the territory of Norvos.

"We're going to war against that?" Nymeria asked quietly.

"Be silent." her father, Oberyn, replied.

In front of Pentos Sunrise Gates was the 100,000 strong horde of Khal Drogo. With them were their families and slaves. Zhano focused his eyes and saw that the Khalasar was still settling down...No… they were preparing. Looking around, Zhano finally found the field where the flow of people stopped.

He watched as the long-talked-about wedding was finally starting. He saw the long line of Pentoshi Magister and Drogo's Kos and Bloodriders. Each holding gifts.

"Oberon!" Zhano called out. "Somebody get me something to write with."

Missandei translated as she wasn't sure if the Dothraki carried writing material.

"Write?" Tyene was surprised.

"Since when do Dothraki write?" Nymeria asked

"My Khal." Ko Temmo shouted as he pulled out parchment and a pencil.

Once Zhano received a pencil and parchment, he began to write in bastard Valyrian. A perk of a Game of Thrones brainiac. When he was finished, he called for Missandei. Though he learned the languages of Planetos, the natives had a more complete knowledge, especially the polyglottic woman.

Zhano handed over the parchment and Missandei looked over with shock.

"You trust me with such information?" Missandei asked in High Valryian.

"I do. You will be by my side forever, Missandei. You have a gift of tongue, I'll need that. You're also smart and level-headed. A good advisor." Zhano told her.

"How do you know me?" She finally asked, slightly afraid and partially in awe.

She heard the stories that the Dothraki shared around the fires during the rests to Pentos. She heard them on the ships from Astapor and in the street of Norvos. If she had their faith, Zhano was chosen by the Horse God. If she was practical, he was a visionary and talented magician.

"Because I was meant to save you. Not just free you from chains, but to make sure you die old and grey. Now is the message legible? I've practiced YiTish, but I've recently remembered bastard valryian of the free cities."

"It's good, my Khal. But the sentence structure is off. This Illyrio may misunderstand. May I?" she asked, shakily.

"You may." he handed her the pencil.

Missandei moved quickly and rearranged the message properly. Zhano then reread the message with a pleased smirk. "See, told you that I need you."

Missandei wore a small smile as she looked down towards the earth.

Zhano then rolled the message and attached it to Oberon. When the eagle flew away, it soared straight to Illyrio.

"Khalakka Oberyn…." Zhano called out.

"Great Khal," he replied.

"I know Dornish are not Dothraki, but still, I wish to take a ride with you and your men to celebrate the Khal's wedding," Zhano explained.

Missandei repeated in the Common Tongue of Westeros.

"I can speak YiTish," said Oberyn, he had heard Zhano speak to his mother and few others in the language numerous times during the trip to Pentos. " How do you think we get in? They will be alerted if they see you."

"By giving me the clothes of your biggest man," Zhano replied. "Zhali, take over the Khalasar and ride slowly to Drogo's Khalasar. Missandei, you come with me. Qoni, my love, I need your horse. You will ride Nemyse. Don't do anything, she can control herself."

Zhano, Missandei, Oberyn, and 300 Dornishmen splintered off and rode to Pentos field where the wedding was being held. When they arrived, they dismounted and were waved through. Hearing the common tongue qualified them as another guest of Targaryen's. and with Missandei wearing a slave collar, she was taken as their gift to Khal Drogo.

When Zhano entered the area of the wedding, he took the lead and walked with Missandei on his right as Dothraki danced and music played. He looked up and watched the Targaryen Prince, Viserys present three handmaidens to his sisters. He then waited saw Jorah Mormont present his gift and swear fealty to the exiled Prince.

Zhano finally began to move when assumed no more gifts would come. They passed by an active fight as a man had his braid cut off and then his head next. When Missandei and Zhano stood before Drogo and Daenerys Targaryen, they stopped and stood quietly. So much so that everyone slowly began to focus on them.

Daenerys has the classical Valyrian look; She has violet eyes, pale skin, and long, pale silver-gold hair. Daenerys is slender of frame, with small breasts. Sitting beside Khal Drogo she looked sheepish and out of place.

"Missandei, tell her." said Zhano.

"Daenerys Targaryen, stand up and walk over to the Magister now," Missandei spoke in High Valryian.

Daenerys was spooked and her brother's eyes widened. High Valyrian was not a common language at all.

Zhano proceed to unwrapped the turban on his head and his braid fell to the back of his calves, jingling all the way down. He then pulled off his shirt and drew his sword. Drogo frowned and the Khalasar was ready to attack but Drogo raised a hand to stop them.

"Khal Drogo." Zhano spoke in Dothraki, "I'm here to kill you and take your Khalasar. No drama or theatrics. You and I will fight here and now. Or you kill your Sleipnir and then yourself."

Drogo laughed as Daenerys stood up and stepped over to her people.

"A boy is now a man and he wishes to be the Great Khal!" Said Drogo, "Why fight when my Khalasar of 113,000 can snuff you in a day? You come with a few men and some whores, you are really brave!"

"As I said, kill your Sleipnir, and then yourself. If you had come to challenge me, I would fight you before I ever consider killing my Sleipnir. You see, in the eyes of our people, we are both chosen by Vezhoff. Today we find out who's a fraud. And today, I pay you back for that solid bitch you used to disrespect me."

"Haha, good. It saves me time and men. And when I travel to Vaes Dothrak, your head will lead the way." Drogo stood up with his sword in hand. "Your Sleipnir, we will feast on. Your whores will be passed around, then sold. And your daughters will be given to the slave to breed more slaves until they are broken and beg for death."

"What is this madness? What are those savages saying?!" Viserys Targaryen shouted in a panic. All he cared about was the army he was promised. If Drogo died, it meant no army.

"Illyrio, have that man killed, now!" Viserys ordered.

"Sire, with all due respect, shut up. If we move, even to protect Drogo, the Dothraki will kill us. Only power rules them and their strongest Khals are about to fight to the death. This is as sacred as the Dothraki get." Illyrio snarled.

"Prince Oberyn, cease the Targaryen Prince," Missandei spoke with the authority of Zhano. "Do not hesitate of fear. Great Khal Zhano will not lose. Its times like this that faith is born. Step out on a limb, Prince Oberyn."

"Father, what do we do?" Tyene asked.

"We take the Prince." Said Nymeria.

Nymeria Sand is twenty-five years old, slim and slender as a willow, with straight black hair worn in a long braid that pulls back from a widow's peak. She has dark eyes which are large and lustrous Her full lips are wine red and curve in a silken smile, and she has high cheekbones.

This olive skin woman had all of the beauty that her sisters, except for Tyene Sand, did not. And though she was elegant and had the soft YiTish temperament of her mother. This beauty dressed gracefully in shimmering lilac robes with a silk cape of cream and copper, and a yellow silk gown so sheer it reveals spun gold and jewels worn underneath, moved like a bloody viper.

One of Nymeria's many daggers that she hid on her body was unsheathed and pressed flush against Viserys's ribs. The Prince fell silent as Zhano and Drogo squared off.

" Prince Viserys, you intervene and I will kill you myself," Nymeria spoke softly to the man.

Meanwhile, Drogo and Zhano move in circles, reading each other, looking for flaws in the simplest of movements. Then like the drop of the ball, suddenly pulled by the energy of the world, the two Khals advance. It was like they stepped into a divine arena.

Ching! Ching! The exchange of swords was intense, every clash rung with strength.

Drogo came down hard in a vertical slash. Zhano put up a horizontal block than did something shocking. His right hand released his blade, his left hand caught it in a reverse grip as Drogo's force caused him to stumble.

Zhano, with a blade in hand drug it across Drogo's Arakh until slit his hand and jumped to slice open his bicep for a full pull through.

As Drogo got his footing and his left arm slumped like a limp noodle. Zhano flowed through the pull-through as his footwork was flawless. This allowed him to open up to the right, his back arched and his right arm swung out in a backward toss of a talon. Drogo's eyes widen and slipped the flying knife, barely. It grazed his cheek and he released a war cry.

"Stop screaming and come on!" Zhano roared as his left foot steady himself. The two Khals then reangeaed. Even with one arm, Drogo was a fair opponent as the exchange of blades was fierce and fluent. Neither was afraid of death or pain.

While most swordsmen retreat, Zhano and Drogo advanced hoping to get the one up they need to win the duel. Or so it seemed to untrained eyes. Many who were adapted noticed the fine cuts the littered Drogo's body. This was vengeance and Zhano wanted to cut him ten thousand times before his death.

"Fuck it!" Zhano gritted his teeth as the two Khals swung their swords. The collision was something that no one had unexpected.

Zhano's sword flew from his hand and found itself sheathed in the neck of a Dothraki. But the fight wasn't a loss as Zhano resorted to the Talon arts of the YiTish. He rolled forward and drew to talons as his face was level with Drogo's growing.

Nymeria smiled as she saw the glimmer of the Valyrian steel curved blades, recognizing the movements of the basic Talon technique of Yi Ti. The same smile was on Oberyn's face as he said, "It's over."

Zhano's movements were fast in precise. Coupled with medical knowledge, Drogo's right leg was destroyed in one fluid motion. His abdomen soon spilled his guts, leading to a vertical cut up the center of his body, to finish the combo by destroying his last good arm at the shoulder joint. Finally, his braid flew into the air, ending a complete breakdown of the towering Khal Drogo.

The area was silent. except for the jingling of Drogo's cut braid. That was the death song and war song of every Dothraki warrior. When the braid hit the ground for its final chime, the crowed breathed a sharp breath.

No one dared to move as Zhano walked off and pulled his sword from the Dothraki corpses causing blood to splatter on those closest to the body.

Zhano walked behind the kneeling Drogo. The man was holding his intestines but he never cried out as he felt his death encroaching. The cuts the littered his body was now bleeding profusely. The truth of Drogo's defeated became clearer to the world. This was the might of the true Stallion destined to mount the world.

Zhano pulled Drogo's head back by his forehead. He then raised his blade, the tip soon disappeared in Drogo's mouth as he sheathed his sword down Drogo's throat and into his body. Drogo gargled, choked, drowned on blood and steel, but his execution only ended after Zhano twisted the blade and the sound of organs being minced resounded like a muffled pop.

Finally, he ripped his blade out, cutting Drogo open from jaw to waistline. Zhano exhaled in relief. And suddenly, his mind exploded with a bright light. He changed the fate of thousands and the destinies of chosen people, redirecting heaven's will. The remaining memories of Miller rushed forth due to this divine intervention.

He saw the Great God, the mantle of space and time, Akaha. He remembered his reincarnation along with the gifts he wished for, more so the gifts misinterpreted by the Gods. He remembered his death and the finer details of his first life. Most importantly he remembers the events in their entirety that followed the wedding of Drogo and Daenerys.

Finally, images of his drinking ranting in the pub came time. His shoulders slumped because even with his memories his heart led him to change of the Dothraki.

"Ahhhhhh!" Zhano roared in victory. "I am the Stallion who mounts the fucking world! And I have just saved the Dothraki people! This is a new beginning for us. Only blessings are to follow! Our prophecies aren't myths or fucking fillers, I will make it divine decree! Bring the Targaryen Prince over her. The princess too."

"What? Let go of me! Illyrio! Illyrio do something!" Viserys called out. He screamed and fought to no avail until he was pushed down onto his knees next to Drogo's corpse.

Zhano leaned forward and whispered in High Valyrian, "All I need is one to claim the Iron Throne. And beat back those cold bastards. Now, let's find out if you're really a dragon."

"Gag him and bind him!" Zhano shouted in Dothraki.

There was a single beat before a few Dothraki stepped forward. Zhano noticed this.

"Drogo is dead! His Khalasar is mine! You can leave if you wish, but one day soon, you will be under my command anyway!" Zhano spoke as Viseyes was gagged and bound.

"You, come here." He motioned for a terrified Daenerys. Her body trembled in fright even when she moved.

"I hear your brother abuses you. He asks you if you want to 'awaken the dragon'. But I think you're the dragon. Do you know what they call me?" Zhano asked her.

"Magister Illyrio called you, Blood Fire Khal," she spoke shakily.

"That's right. So now I'm going to do something. I'm going to give you a gift to celebrate our wedding."

"Our wedding?" Daenerys' eyes widen and she trembled from the inside out.

"Oh yeah, you were born for a reason. Now kneel next to your brother."

Zhano gestured and Daenerys was forced to her knees. Without another word, he set the Targaryen siblings on fire.

"What the fuck!" Illyrio shouted in horror. "This isn't what we agreed on!"

Zhano ignored the man as the smell of burnt flesh filled the air. But he saw the woman quietly back away in an attempt to disappear. Zhano pointed and a torrent of flames killed three Pentoshi just to kill the man in Westerosi armor behind them

"Jorah Mormont... She won't need you in this life." Zhano muttered as the man scream to his burning death.

When the fires burned out, Viserys and Jorah were burnt to a crisp, and Daenerys was naked and unburnt. Zhano knew exactly just how much heat she could take. While the scene looked amazing and barbaric, it was merely Zhano's experiment and his need to kill the annoying prince instead of tolerating him. And he never liked Jorah Mormont so killing him was entirely impulsive.

"This is the age of the Dothraki. This moment is the birth of an Empire! I, the Great Blood Fire Khal, and my Khaleesi, last of the Valyrian Dragonbloods have a claim to the entire world! And it will be trampled into submission under the hoofs of our horde!" Zhano declared.

Instead of cheers, the Dothraki fell to their knees, the Pentoshi and Dornishmen fell to their knees. Praise and acknowledgment were murmured. The scene displayed rolled across the Khallasr like a great storm.

Naturally, like Daenerys, many could not believe what was happening. Pulling a bundle of fabric from the wedding gifts, Zhano covered her and walked her away. As they left, the Tides of change hovered over everyone. The Dothraki that were too far to witness the events and only heard it by word of mouth, kneeled when they saw Zhano and the Pale woman that was supposed to be Drogo's wife, walking together. The ash on her pale face and in her pale silver-gold hair was a testament of the Blood Fire Khals power and his Unburnt Khaleesi.

"W-what did you do to me?" Daenerys asked, still in shock.

"I showed you that no one is worthy of me more than you. I will burn away all of your weakness and forge a queen out of what's left. You will hate me in the begging because I will punish you for your weakness and ignorance. You will hate and misunderstand my culture, but you will soon embrace it like a whore takes cock. And when the pain is gone and only my creation is left, you will see me as the dragon that owns you and the center of your world."

"W-will I never love you," Daenerys asked.

Her expression and the idiotic question made Zhano laugh. He then remembered that the woman next to him isn't the mother of dragons. He would have to do much burning as she was ready soft and ready for forging.

"You love me. More than life itself. Remember, you were born for a reason." said Zhano.

Daenerys didn't speak again. She retreated into her mind and the only thing that played was the words of a man that killed another that she did not want to marry. A man who killed her brother and freed her from abuse. A man who burnt her because he knew her better she knew herself.

'His fire was a gift...' she thought, ' A gift for our marriage. He knew I wouldn't be burnt. He called me the dragon. Maybe will love him...Maybe this man... Maybe Zhano really is my fate..."

Daenerys stared up at the Great Khal the once again lowered her head and retreated to her thoughts.