Asphyxiation

Dharo felt satisfaction course through his veins. His Khalaasar had accomplished a successful raid on a Lhazar settlement.

More than the glory gained, more than the blood spilt, more than the new slaves and oh, so many beautiful slaves, what made him happy was the fact this victory was another one establishing him and his Khalaasar as one of the greatest among all Dothraki.

Only Drogo, another Khal had a Khalaasar that reluctantly, he admitted surpassed his. 'Only for now,' he reminded himself.

Soon, really soon, it will change. While Drogo had chosen to slow down due to the fact he decided to marry, Dharo's Khaalasar had been on the move, fighting, conquering and plundering the way it was supposed to be.

Now, more than ever was the time to grow stronger. Astapor, one of the great cities had fallen because of slaves.

The winds travelled with tales speaking of magic, of divine wrath splitting the sky and bringing low the masters of Astapor, of a white-haired sorcerer fancying himself as a liberator.

Dharo didn't believe the rumours. They were probably exaggerated. At worst, the so-called liberator was probably someone not capable of creating more than a campfire. Most Dothraki knew magic needed blood and sacrifices and not even an ocean of blood would have been enough for the things it was said the white-haired sorcerer had accomplished.

The Dothraki knew of magic and where most feared it, Dharo saw it as something easily dealt with the help of blades. Sorcerers, Maegis, beasts, men, they all died by the slash of a blade.

It was pathetic that the good masters of Astapor could fall to slaves. It was something that could never happen with the  Dothraki because they were inherently strong, better.

But this was fine. The leaders of the other city wanted this so-called liberator with his free slaves to be crushed.

Promises of gifts, golds, weapons and slaves were given but even without them, Dharo would have chosen to attack Astapor.

Astapor represented an opportunity. Astapor represented The chance to make him the greatest.

The good masters had died leaving behind slaves and their wealth, things that could be taken if Dharo struck quickly, things that would undoubtedly make him the greatest Khal amongst all Dothraki.

Dharo knew that he and the other Dothraki were seen as savages, beasts without logic when in truth, they were the ones following the true logic of the world.

Only strength mattered. Those who were weak deserved everything wrong that happened to them. Weakness was a choice. Becoming Strong was also one.

Dharo had raised from the bottom of his Khalaasar that had once been the one of another Khal and when he grew strong enough, he challenged the old Khal to a fight to Death and won.

The Khal looked with distaste and disgust as the new female slaves they gained from the Lhazar settlement begged for mercy, cried as they were led by chains in the middle of the Khalaasar. There was a reason why Dothraki called Lhasareen lambs. They all were weak.

They had been victorious and in Dharo's perspective, every victory was worthy to be celebrated and Dothraki celebrated truly in only one way. With sex, blood and revelry and to what else could the female slaves serve other than being a great part of if not the entertainment?

As they were surrounded without any chance of escape, some fell into despair praying to their gods or begging them. Others like a young girl that seemed too young to even have bled looked at him with anger and hatred.

Finally, someone with a spark of defiance! It'll make it even sweeter to break her. "This one," he said while pointing at the young girl "Is mine."

No one dared to contest his words because they knew who he was, what he was capable of. Xhardo, one of his bloodriders pulled the chains of the girl bringing her to him.

The girl should be cursing her father, brother and male kin. They were the ones too weak unable to stop him.

His attention focused on the girl ignoring what happened around him. He wondered how the face of the girl would twist. Women, girl they were all like this at first, defiant before being broken by him. 'He just hoped that by breaking her, she wouldn't die,' he thought as he prepared himself to unveil his manhood. It would be inconvenient if she did.

In another world, Dharo's cruelty would have prevailed. After all, the Dothrak was right to say that Power was unfortunately what made things right or wrong and the Dothraki were powerful.

Unfortunately for Dharo, there were greater powers than his Khalaasar and one of them had chosen him as prey.

Something shifted in the air, a perversion of the natural order that could be felt by all. The smell of blood and ashes assaulted Dharo's senses overwhelming them.

All the other Dothraki had stopped. They could feel it too. They could sense it and they were scared.

A shadow fell from the sky, darkness incarnate splashing and dying in the Earth with black swallowing light.

From the shadow, it rose in the shape of a young Valyrian-looking boy with his white hair and amethyst eyes, amethyst eyes burning with hatred so deep that Dharo could feel it. The eyes, they were directed at him.

The Dothraki shocked, scared, stayed silent, idle, unable to move. One moment where nothing moved, where the world itself stood still.

The next one, crimson bathed the Earth. Like a foul creature coming from the deeper parts of Hell, the thing in the shape of a boy moved, carving with its fingers through Dharo's Khalaasar with more ease than when a sword parted flesh.

The thing moved and a Dothrak's head fell. Another movement and another member of Dharo's Khaleesar was dismembered.

Some Dothraki tried to defend themselves, branding their Arakh. They rushed screaming at the monster in the shape of a boy trying to bring it low.

The thing looked at them with dark amusement in its eyes as the Arakh broke against its skin.

"By the Great stallion," Dharo whispered under his breath. How could things turn wrong so quickly?

A moment ago, they were celebrating. Moments ago, they were destined for greatness. Now, they were slaughtered like cattle!

"Retreat! Retreat!" he heard screaming. Retreat? To be the shame of all Dothraki? What kind of Khalaasar flees against one man?!

Xhardo, his bloodrider came rushing toward him, a horse behind him "You have to go Khal! I will stay with other bloodriders to try to slay that thing and if failing, slow it down for you!"

Indignation flared up inside the Khal replacing the helplessness and anger he could feel inside "What kind of Khal flee leaving his Khalaasar to fight? What kind of Khal abandon his bloodriders!"

Bloodriders were more than the personal guard of a Khal. They were friends, advisors, brothers and more than that. There was a reason why Khals only shared their wives with their bloodriders.

"There is no shame in retreating against a foul creature such as this thing! This thing doesn't fall from blades like men do. You have to leave, go to Vaes Dothrak and tell the others about this monster!"

It wasn't supposed to be like this! It shouldn't be ending like this! Reluctantly, Dharo nodded in acceptance before mounting the stead brought by his bloodrider.

With one last nod, Xharo turned, rushing with his Arakh toward the monster even though he probably knew the result.

Dharo's Khalaasar that easily dwarfed thousands heads was being slaughtered before his eyes. The monster in the shape of a child was bathed in the blood of the members of his Khalaasar and was smiling.

This was a smile that would have been more appropriate to see on a lovesick woman, not on such a monster.

As if feeling the weight of his gaze, the monster turned toward him, eyes full of cruelty and dark amusement. Dharo's felt his heart stop under such gaze. The thing's gaze moved away from him to focus on the incoming form of Dharo's bloodrider. Now was time to leave but Dharo wouldn't leave alone.

With one pull of the chains of the slave girl, she fell on his horse. She thrashed seemingly realizing his intention.

His Arakh on her neck calmed her. Dharo had lost in mere moments everything he ever had fought for all of his life. It was just for him to keep this girl for longer.

With a shout "Ya!" from Dharo's part, the horse began galloping. Behind him, the sound of men dying and the overpowering smell of blood began to disappear from his senses.

Dharo had lost everything against that thing. He had lost his Khalaasar, his wealth, his slaves and his bloodriders. He knew he would never be able to raise as high as he once did. He wasn't as young as he was when he became Khal but what Dharo would focus on would be to make the demon in the shape of a child pay.

Yes, everything had weaknesses. Dharo will share what happened with the other Khals and the Dosh Khaleen no matter how humiliating it would be.

Sooner or later, Dharo will have his vengeance. Sooner or later, that thing in the shape of a boy will pa-

'Something was wrong, horribly wrong,' Dharo thought as his body was assaulted with agony. More than that, his legs, they burnt as if they had been set aflame.

Something was wrong, horribly wrong. He wanted to scream but was unable to and not due to his will.

"Do you truly think I would let you escape?" he heard a voice say in perfect Dothrak. His eyes rose meeting amethyst.

Fear surged into his veins. The monster, it was the monster. How was this possible? The monster had been surrounded by Dothraki as innumerable as the stars. It should have slowed it down.

"I don't need magic to know what you think. I'm sure you must be wandering in your little head how I was able to catch you, little horse lord. Your Khalaasar was nothing but full of animals capable of wielding weapons. They were animals so I slaughtered them like animals but you are special, little horse lord," the thing chuckled darkly above him.

The senses of the Khal began to disappear first with his view, his smell, his touch with the pain and his ears.

"I have plans for you little horse lord. Death is after all too easy of an escape." Those words were the last Khal Dharo heard before everything turned black.

*scene*

Change no matter how small or big it was invited challenge. I had uprooted one of the tenants many in Essos saw as sacrosanct. Of course, I knew it was just a question of time before those benefiting from the status quo, slavers and their ilks came at me directly or indirectly.

I had created a precedent and the longer what I created lasted in time, the more it challenged the idea they wanted so much to uphold, the one that those born or inducted into slavery could not break their chains themselves

Strategically, I was technically at my most vulnerable. A city of people who only knew slavery, that didn't have anything else in common, a city supposed to follow a new order, a new way of things.

From all Essos, slaves that were able to escape, those fearing the Dothraki hordes flocked to Astapor.

Why wouldn't they? A city where no one was hungry. A city where no one got sick. A city where the only worshipped god was freedom.

Sooner or later, I knew I would be attacked. Normally, it would have been a cause of anxiety. Fortunately, I had magic, magic that only grew more plentiful, more potent with the passage of time.

I had created what I would call an alarm system, an invisible barrier extending hundreds of kilometres all around Astapor.

A barrier, a threshold that informed me of everyone crossing it and coming close to Astapor, that informed me of their broader feelings, intentions.

Sometimes, it was escaped slaves crossing the barrier and through the Unsullied who acted now more like the official army of Astapor than anything else, I made sure that they were escorted safely to Astapor.

After having healed all of them from the mutilations and castrations inflicted on them by the Good masters, the Unsullied became even more deadly even if it was hard to believe.

I also noticed that they were bulking, becoming more muscular. Maybe I should create spells or potions to strengthen them faster and even more like I could be creating something like a space marine army. Just not in space.

I didn't look that intimidating. The last days proved this to me. It's not that the Unsullied or the free slaves of Astapor acted disrespectfully. It's just as if they had forgotten I could literally set ablaze a pyramid with a flick of my fingers. They kinda treated me like a child.

Sure, when I said or asked them to do something, they did without hesitating but except that. For example, I couldn't do anything without some older woman cooing at me as if I were a cat or something.

When I chose to explore by myself Astapor disguised by magic, I would always be welcome after by the disappointed gaze of Grey Worm as if he was a disappointed father learning that their child's communication skills were so dogshit that they would probably be the last of the bloodline.

Ok, maybe I was exaggerating things but being surrounded by tall, buff and scary-looking Unsullied would only make things better in the long run for me.

First Impressions mattered to people no matter what they would say to you. It was a psychological fact and sure, it could change with more interactions but the principle was that humans relied more on first impressions than anything else to decide how to treat others.

I had magic which changed the rules a lot but it was never a bad idea to stack your deck. Hope for the best and prepare for the worst and all that.

Anyway, Other times, it was mercenaries, slavers, Dothraki daring to cross my barrier. Most of the time, I just directed the Unsullied to them. With my magic, there was no chance of any of them dying from a wound and the Unsullied knew this. There was nothing more scary than fighting someone who didn't fear Death, who knew with certainty they wouldn't die no matter what happened but this time, this time, I didn't summon the Unsullied.

The moment the Khalaasar crossed the threshold, my body himself had been screaming at me in hatred, yearning to personally make those Dothraki suffer.

Those Dothraki, they felt exactly like Kraznys. They felt exactly like the man who had enslaved, violated and killed the child that had inhabited this body before me.

Those were Dothraki that only wanted I knew to plunder, to kill, to rape, to send back to chains those I had freed.

More than that, I could feel, I could see thousands and thousands of slaves. Slaves who were scared. Slaves that were hurt, that had been taken by force from everything they ever knew.

It felt too much. It made my heart boil with a hatred that felt alien to me, one I knew that could only be satiated with Death.

With my magic, I crossed the distance separating me from the Khalaasar. I didn't think. I unleashed my magic wildly commanding it to lead me to my enemies and it did. I wasn't a mage after all. I was an archmage and there was a difference in power as huge as the gap between the sky and the Earth between those two notions.

I felt myself lose shape, become a shadow, a spectre ignorant of the natural order of things. I felt myself simultaneously fall and rise.

I emerged in the middle of the Dothraki camp, shadows clinging to my form at the moment when they prepared themselves to rape unwilling women with wanton abandon, shamelessly, without any hesitation.

A part of me, the one that had grown in a modern era, that wasn't used and keen to violence had always been hesitant since I woke up in this world of ice and fire.

Killing someone was something I had been taught was definitive. A person no matter how evil they had been or are could change, do good things in the future and killing this person was robbing them of the possibility of them changing but also from accomplishing greater good than the evil they committed.

It was easy to hold such a view when you weren't the one affected, when you weren't the one seeing your loved ones, the people around you suffer unfairly and the source of this suffering was not being punished.

I had killed the good masters of Astapor and if I could, I would again but I has briefly wondered if maybe, maybe even though I hated the notion with all my being, it was possible to peacefully change things.

Looking at the Dothraki around me with my magic. Looking at the terror-filled gazes of the women near me. Looking at them, reading through their minds with my magic searching for maybe a good reason or unwillingness or something alike. Their minds only showed how limitless their vices were.

Those things confirmed what I already knew deep down. Any human involved in the institution of slavery needed to die. You didn't compromise with evil. You crushed it until not even ashes remained.

What happened after felt like an out-of-body experience. I was the one choosing to move. I was the one gleefully tearing through the Dothraki with magically reinforced nails because I wanted to feel them bleed.

I was the one who turned the heads of several of them into red mist. I was the one to choose to kill, no, butcher them.

It was me yet at the same time it felt as if I was a stranger watching all of this unfold through the eyes of another.

I was hungry, thirsty for their blood and only their Death seemed to slowly fill the gaping maw in my stomach.

I killed and killed and killed until it felt as if I had been bathed in blood. I killed and killed them so I could erase with their deaths the images of all the atrocities they had committed.

When I was finished, when the blood haze lifted, the only Dothrak who had survived was Khal Dharo himself.

I could still feel him, on the back of a horse fleeing with an unwilling slave. Even now, after losing everything, he still preferred to make someone else suffer.

"It is you. I knew you would come." I turned toward where the voice came from. It came from one of the female slaves who would have been raped if I hadn't appeared.

She had dark hair and almond-shaped eyes that were light brown. She looked like someone in my previous world who would be seen as having either Middle Eastern or North African ancestry. She didn't look that much older than me. I would guess that she was sixteen at worst.

"My father and my brothers died trying to protect me and the other women of my village. I was scared but more than that, I knew you would come, Great liberator." A smile bloomed on her face almost disturbing "the god who broke the chains of the slaves in Astapor."

Around me, I felt the fear of the women skyrocket. Fear mixed with adoration "I am no God," I told her firmly. "I am human just like you."

It would have been so easy to agree with her words, to accept them. A part of me yearned to do so. Power shortened bridges and the bridge between divinity and me was I had to admit really thin.

What could a deity do that I couldn't do or wouldn't be able to do in the future? I could heal the sick, bring untold destruction just by wishing so. With one step, I could make nature move to my command. Shit, I could walk on water and turn it into wine if I wished to.

Even in Astapor, I knew many worshipped me even though I had also told them I wasn't a divine being.

Accepting this mantle, the mantle of a god was something I couldn't allow myself to do. Slavers, kings, gods, they were in the end all the same.

What I wanted, what I wished for was for no one to ever be chained whether it was by physical or metaphysical chains.

A being asking, receiving shamelessly the worship of others was one I didn't think was worth worshipping.

I wouldn't stand over them as an all-powerful god! I wouldn't replace their old masters! What I will do will be stand at their side as an equal, ensuring they will be able to stand up if they ever fall and making sure that chains will never be holding them again.

More than that, I knew perfectly that Power corrupted. How long would it be until I do something wrong? How long would it be until I'm completely warped into something completely monstrous? Power for power's sake was the road to another form of enslavement.

No, I would not be a god. I would be a man standing at the side of other men striving to create something better.

I watched their faces exhibit dubiousness at my words. Maybe if I hadn't appeared the way I did, maybe if I hadn't personally slaughtered all those Dothraki, they would believe me more easily.

With time, I hope their view of me changed.  With a flick of my fingers, the chains binding them broke. I tried to ignore the gaps of shock and surprise. "What's your name?" I asked the Lhazareen girl.

"Arwa, Great liberator," she answered.

"Call me Aegor." I watched how she instinctively prepared herself to protest "Please," I told her and it seemed to be enough as she nodded reluctantly.

"Dharo thinks that he has been able to escape me and I think it would be better for us all to crash his delusion as soon as possible. What I want you to do is gather all the slaves. I want you to differentiate those who want to come with me, those who want to go back to what remains of their hometown and those who want to leave by themselves."

"Understood. Your will will be done Gre- Aegor," she caught herself.

I ignored her slip-up. Small steps, small steps first "Thank you Arwa," I told her.

I turned my gaze toward where I could feel Dharo. He was still in my barrier which meant I could still feel him.

I took a step and my surroundings shifted around me. I could feel many paths, many different roads leading to different points of emergence.

I felt a moving shadow, one in the shape of a horse and a man. I chose to emerge from it, just under the fleeing Khal.

"Cleave," I whispered as I pointed my fingers at the stomach of the horse, the word more a form of self-hypnotism than anything else to shape my magic.

A strike faster than a bullet separated the horse in the middle. I had attacked at a calculated angle, one that would ensure that the lower part of the body of the Khal would be touched but completely ignored the slave at the front of the horse.

With my magic, I grabbed the girl, levitating her. Blood exploded from the steed sending it falling with its now legless rider.

Slowly, I let the girl down. With another flick of my will, her chains broke. "How?" she asked me. She didn't look older than me. She didn't look older than Aegor. I tried to reign in the anger I felt erupt inside.

I smiled at her with what I hoped was a non-threatening smile, one that didn't show what I was feeling at that moment "Magic," I told her.

I kneeled at her side. She looked at me as if I was a predator that would be pouncing at any moment. I pushed my palms against each other pushing magic between them. I separated them. An ember danced where they had been slowly shifting, changing until it took the appearance of a miniature lamb.

Kids like shiny things, right? It had been so long since I had interacted with children meaningfully. I watched her eyes widen in shock and delight at the display. "You can touch it if you want. It won't hurt you." I opened one of my palms for the lamb to stand on it.

She extended her arms slowly, still cautious. Of course, she would be. She had probably lost most of her family members the day before and she had been on the verge of being raped by a Dothraki. I wasn't a therapist but I knew that rushing things would be one of the worst kinds of mistakes I could make "May I," I asked her.

"Yes," she whispered. Slowly, the lamb rose from my palm flying to stand between her hands.

"Warm. It is warm," she said softly as she continued cradling the lamb in her hands.

"I am Aegor. May I ask your name?"

For a moment, she stayed silent, looking at me seemingly contemplating whether to answer or not "Alia. My name is Alia. You killed them. The Dothraki, you killed them all."

"Yes, I did," I confirmed.

"Good," she said before bowing her head "Thank you," she told me voice filled with gratefulness, showing the most emotion since we began talking.

A child probably no more older than twelve thanking me for having killed others. This world was wrong on so many levels. How was this okay?! How was that normal?!

I could see it now. Freeing others would be the easy thing. The harder thing to do would be to ensure things didn't go back to what they were or worse in any kind of form.

A moan of pain caught my attention. Dharo, I had almost forgotten him. "I'm going to take care of something important quickly. After, we'll see if it's not possible to bring you back to your village."

I tried to raise but a hand on my wrist stopped me "He killed my entire family. Most of my village too. We fought and lost. You fought and won. I want to come with you."

Her eyes widened. Fear, fear almost as deep as an ocean almost swallowed me as I looked into her eyes "I'll do everything you ask from me, everything. I want to come with you."

"You don't need to do anything," I told her as softly as I could trying to ignore the implication of her words. "I'll take you with me, Alia, I promise."

She continued to look at me seemingly searching for any deceit before nodding and removing her hand on my wrist when she found none.

I turned and walked toward Dharo. The khal had clearly seen better days. I just wanted to put him down like the rabid dog that he was but I needed the Dothrak for two last things.

I looked into his eyes. I needed confirmation. I needed to know if he had acted by himself or had been sent by the leaders of other slave cities to bring me down.

I found quickly what I wanted, confirmation of what I already feared could happen. The leaders of Yunkai were the ones tasking Dharo to crush me, to chain back those I had freed. I guess I knew what I needed to do now.

Yunkai, Meereen, Lys, the Dothraki. I could see the picture more clearly. The slaver cities would do everything to ensure I failed and the Dothaki just by existing went against everything I believed in.

How many innocent people died because of them? How many innocent people lost everything because of them? How many were enslaved because of them? How many were raped?

The Dothraki as they were now could not exist in the world I wanted to create. It just meant that I needed to get rid of them. I needed to crush them all.

'Now for the last thing,' I thought as I put a false smile on my face. I wanted to kill Dharo but killing was easy, too easy. Death could be a mercy and mercy was the last thing he deserved.

More than that, I wasn't the one who suffered under him. 'Yes,' I thought as he fell unconscious only alive because of my magic. 'Death was a mercy he didn't deserve and I'm sure those who had been his slaves would like what I have in mind.'

*scene*

A voice arose in Dharo's mind "Wakey wakey sleeping beauty. Slowly but surely, the Khal opened his eyes to the grinning face of the monster who had torn with bare hands through his Khalaasar.

Insults died in his throat as pain assaulted his senses. His legs, his legs, they felt as if they were on fire. Something was wrong with them.

He turned his gaze toward them and found them missing. There was nothing under his knees!

"You see," the monster said with a smile "I wanted to kill you but it would have been too easy. It wouldn't have been enough. It wouldn't have been fair."

The monster in the shape of a child moved away from him "You did so many atrocities. So many suffered and died because of you. Fortunately," the demon chuckled "all of them didn't."

The thing was smiling at him with a smile filled with too many teeth. Fear swallowed the mind of the Khal.

Dharo was a monster. He had made others suffer for what he had seen as weakness and smiled because of it. That smile, that sadistic smile that he had displayed so many times in the past, it was the same one etched on the face of the monster.

He needed to flee! He needed to do something to escape from the cruelty he knew the demon had in mind for him. Dothraki didn't hear Death but there were worse things than death.

It didn't matter at that moment for the Dothrak that Chains bound his arms in two different directions. It didn't matter for him that he didn't have legs anymore. Dharo screamed, fought against his bindings like a possessed man, all for naught.

"Don't worry," the demon told him. "I won't be the one personally making you suffer." The boy moved, allowing Dharo to see behind him those who had neem his, those who had been his slaves holding knives, blades and swords.

The defiant Lhazareen girl stepped to the side of the demon "They will," the boy finished.

The girl began walking toward him, the once-slaves following her "Don't you know who I am!" the Dothrak shouted in anger and fear. "I am your master! I am your master! I am your master and you are noth-"

The khal words were cut by a blade in the neck "Also, I had forgotten to tell you," he heard the boy speak "Until dawn, you're immortal. Enjoy your brief immortality."

Those were the last words Khal Dharo heard before his once slaves pounced on him agony rippled through his mind and stopped him from thinking.