A Tale of Blood and Monsters Ch. 11

Year 278 AC

Essos – The Disputed Lands

When I finally left Lys and started making my way to Myr, I did not take the twins with me, much to their chagrin. They got over it well enough once I explained what I needed from them though, and after I promised to visit frequently to check on their progress and reward or punish them as I saw fit. After a week straight of showing them just what sort of positive and negative reinforcement I could come up with, it was obvious that they were both excited at the prospect.

Put frankly, they were going to take over Lys for me from the inside, along with their father as a puppet figurehead. However, unlike the 'Eternal Master' I'd set up in Slaver's Bay, Magister Rogare would never be anything but a puppet thanks to my compulsion. And thanks to the training I'd given his daughters both, the rest of Lys' magisters would soon fall to their compulsion as well. Things would progress well there, but I'd be back in a few months to make sure they were going according to plan and if they were not, I would have to devise a suitable punishment.

For now I'd turned my eyes to Myr, and with Melisandre and Chatana at my side and half my Blessed still with me, we headed into the disputed lands. Luckily the Trinity were not currently at war, and thus the roads moving through the disputed lands were relatively calm. It wasn't until we got closer to Myr that we started noticing a lot more travelers and merchants heading away from the city instead of towards it.

Interrogating one of these travelers enlightened us to the reason for this strange exodus. A Khalasar was currently camped outside Myr's walls as the city prepared the usual tribute so they could buy the Dothraki off. As a result, people who were trying to make their way to Myr through the land routes were turning around and heading back, as even the trek back with low supplies was better than being taken for everything they had and possibly being pressed into slavery by the Dothraki.

I couldn't help myself, a large grin split across my face when I found out. We continued towards Myr without even a pause of course, drawing strange looks from those heading away as we passed them by. Despite spending so much time on Essos, I had still never actually seen a full-fledged Dothraki Khalasar. Oh sure, I'd run into a few Dothraki at times, mostly disgraced braidless warriors who were too beaten and broken to try to regain their valor, usually along the way from Mereen to Valyria.

I'd even drank from a couple so I had a full grasp of their language for the future. But I'd never had a chance to ride confidently into the midst of a full size city-threatening Khalasar. At least, I hadn't until now. This was going to be fantastic.

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We ran into scouts first of course, but our little mounted group was enough to dissuade them from coming at us directly, instead sending them back to where the Khalasar was camped out to deliver news of our approach. We'd just crested a hill and gotten into view of said Khalasar when a khas rode out to meet us, spreading out and encircling our group and forcing us to a stop.

I raised an eyebrow as the Ko, or Captain of the group came to a stop before me, looking me up and down and taking special note of the dragonlings once again perched on my shoulders. After a moment he points his arakh at my face even as several of the riders around us draw and notch arrows in bows. Speaking Dothraki, he spits out, "You! Dismount and order your servants to do the same. You will submit and be brought before Khal Najaho."

Khal Najaho hm? In Dothraki, Najahat meant 'To be Victorious', so I imagined this was where the name came from. How quaint. Smiling widely at the Ko threatening me, I shift my shoulders first to the left and then to the right. The dragonlings perched there react to the stimulus and fly off to land on the opposite shoulders of Melisandre and Chatana. It was a move I'd been practicing frequently for fun and it had taken Melisandre quite a while to get used to the sudden proximity to a mythical fire breathing beast, young as it was.

The flight of the dragonlings draws the attention of the entire khas, and arrows move to track them. That's the moment in which I and my Blessed strike. Chatana and Melisandre are the only ones who remain seated as I leap out of the saddle of the large Stallion I've been using as my mount, the horse staying entirely calm even as I jump from his back.

At the same time, my other Blessed dismount as well and blur forward to speed around the circle of horses that the khas have made. They're almost moving too fast for mortal eyes to see, but the horses still make note of them and it starts a chain reaction as the more than likely well trained beasts still rear back in shock and surprise at the unnatural speed.

To put it bluntly, my Blessed spooked their horses and dozens of Dothraki riders fell from their saddles as horses reared back as far as they could to get away from the phantoms my Blessed left behind. It wasn't nearly enough to keep them down though of course, and moments later arakhs were drawn from sheathes as the Dothraki warriors rose from their undignified ground to take retribution, only to freeze at the sight before them.

After all, I had not been idle in the moments in which my Blessed had acted. When I'd leapt from the back of my mount, I had leapt in the direction of the Ko who had dared threaten me. Now he knelt on the ground facing away from me, one of my hands holding the wrist of the arm that wielded his arakh, the other hand holding onto the base of his thick long warrior braid.

It caused a small pause, but I knew the warriors would attack soon anyways, so before that happened, I spoke up in fluent dothraki down at the captain I was holding hostage.

"We will agree to go before your Khal, but as guests, not prisoners. If you are not willing to abide by that, I and my children will slaughter you and your khas to the last. Hopefully the next Ko will be smarter."

I tighten my grip on his hair braid and his wrist for emphasis, but prepare for a fight anyways. The dothraki around us seem prepared for that same fight, tensing up and preparing to launch forward to bring us down with brutal physical violence. Then, at the last second the Ko speaks up and raises his hand towards his men.

"Wait! Wait! Hold!"

He directs the next part back over his shoulder to me.

"I agree to your terms. I will bring you to Khal Najaho as guests, not prisoners."

Smiling, I open my mouth to tell him he's made the right choice, when a sneering voice sounds out from amongst the crowd calling the captain a coward and urging the warriors surrounding us to attack. Which of course, they all did without another moment of pause, forcing me and my Blessed to defend ourselves. I deal with the cowardly captain first, his use to me dying the moment he fails to control his people. His own arakh is quickly buried in his chest, and then I'm amongst the charging warriors of the khas along with my hybrids as we tear and rip and kill.

At the end, we stand amongst a hundred dead warriors and almost as many dead horses. The major problem with this? We're within eyesight of the camped out Khalasar, and though it's a bit of a distance for mortal eyes to see, the sounds of battle definitely drew a few mortal ears. A horde of screaming dothraki warriors are already bearing towards us at this point.

A slow smile spreads across my face as I roll my shoulders and look at my children, most of which are sporting the same large smile as I am. Only a few moments to speak, only time for a few words. Easy enough to decide what to say in such a case.

"Good. All of the politics and pleasantness in Lys left me feeling all pent up and bloodthirsty. Kill them all."

From there things become a whirlwind of blood, as a dozen Blessed and me stand against an army of thousands. Chatana hangs back to keep a protective eye on the dragonlings and to a lesser extent Melisandre, but for the rest of us, there's nothing but killing and chaos as another army of mortals learns the futility of struggling against monsters.

A hundred bodies turn into a thousand and then two thousand and then I don't bother to keep count, because the number of dead dothraki quickly outnumber the number of living still capable of fighting. At the end of it, I'm holding a large man by the throat and judging by the huge braid that run down his back, along with what seemed to be an honor guard trying to defend the man that could only be his blood riders, I have to assume this is Khal Najaho.

He fought against me valiantly, charging me again and again despite the disabling and debilitating injuries I dealt him casually over the course of our fight. It wasn't until I'd broken both his arms and his legs that he was reduced to lying in the dirt growling and snarling at me. That was where I'd picked him up from and now as I glanced behind him at the size of his braid, I raised my eyebrows and gave him a mocking smile.

"Well now, from the size of your braid and from what I understand of your culture, you really haven't ever experienced a defeat have you? Certainly not one like this."

I chuckle as I glance around, even as he tries to drill holes through me with his glare.

"Well, to be fair, no Khalasar has ever experienced something like this. Yours is the first I've run into after all. Perhaps the next will be more accommodating if I leave you alive to tell the story hm? Only… you cannot cut off your own braid, as is dothraki custom, can you? Very well, let it not be said that I am unwilling to help a man in need."

Holding out a hand, one of my Blessed places a knife in my grasp within moments. Smirking all the while, I reach behind the defeated and broken Khal and shear his braid off at the base of his skull, as cruelly and viciously as I can. Then I knock him out and drag him towards the tents only a few hundred paces away, my people leading our horses behind us.

The women and children of the Khalasar had congregated on the edge of the camp, watching the large battle from a distance. Though to call it a battle was probably doing a disservice to real battles. As I approach with their Khal in my grasp, most back away to make room for me, eyes wide with awe and terror. My eyes quickly lock onto the woman who I peg as most likely to be the Khaleesi given the way the others orbit around her and the look on her face as she takes in the Khal.

I drop him at her feet and then raise my voice so all who stand around us will hear me, "Your Khal lays beaten at my feet. I have taken his valor and laid waste to your warriors and riders. He is the only survivor. I care not what you do with him, but you will leave this place now. Go where you wish, but trouble Myr no more."

Looking to the Khaleesi in particular, I step closer as I catch her eyes and compel her, "You in particular will do your level best to reach Vaes Dothrak. You will tell all who will listen what happened here. You will warn the Dothraki of me. Tell everyone what I look like and who I am. I am Vali the Messenger, and your khalasars will either bow before me or die before me when I meet them in the future."

Her pupils dilate and I know the compulsion takes hold as she nods jerkily and then begins shouting commands. There are no adult males left in the Khalasar to countermand her after all, besides her disgraced husband. As my group makes our way through the camp towards the nearby city of Myr to enter its gates, around us women and children work to pull down tents and pack up supplies as they prepare to leave as I ordered.

Suffice to say, Myr opened its gates before me.

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It took only a day for someone to approach us after we essentially bought out all the rooms of one of Myr's tavern for a night of celebration and entertainment. This time I was not led before a Council of Magisters for an interrogation, though I knew it existed in Myr from my research. Instead the Council sent a spokesperson to beg an audience with me instead.

Huh, I suppose I should have found a threat to Lys to deal with before stepping through their gates, if this was the sort of welcome I got. I graciously allowed the magister sent by the council to come before me, sitting at the head of the largest table in the tavern me and mine had commandeered and smiling amicably as the man approached.

"Dragonlord, it is a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for taking the time to speak with me."

Raising an eyebrow, I let out a pleasant chuckle, "Well, it would be quite rude for me not to yes? Who am I to refuse you a meeting within your own city hmm?"

Disarmed by my welcoming demeanor, the man gives a sheepish smile, "You are of course the man who destroyed a Khalasar that sat on our doorstep and threatened our very existence if we did not give in to their demands. While Myr has gotten used to the Dothraki's methods, it does not change the fact that the barbarians practice a form of barely polite robbery, and you have prevented that entirely."

My smile morphs into a toothy grin, "Yes, well I offered them peace and they declined to accept. The results of spitting in the face of my generosity speak for themselves I do think."

The Magister nods in emphatic agreement, "Yes, we Magisters of Myr quite agree. That's actually part of why I'm here. Myr wishes to forge a strong bond with the sole Dragonlord of a rising Valyria. We believe that starts by asking how we can possibly repay you for your actions outside our walls in defense of us."

"Ah, of course. Well I wish I could claim it was out of the kindness of my heart and such kindness needs no repayment, but I'm sure we both know the world does not work that way. Debts must be repaid mustn't they? Luckily, I already know how we can equalize things and become the best of friends. Tell me, had you and the other magisters decided on an agreeable tribute for the Dothraki Horde sitting outside your walls, before I dealt with them?"

He blinks at that before nodding slowly, clearly not connecting the dots very fast. Not the brightest bulb amongst his peers I imagined, "… Yes?"

Pleasant smile still fixed on my face, I gesture expansively, "Then the course forward is obvious. Take the tribute and give half of it to me."

Comprehension finally dawns on his face, "Ah, that… that might be feasible yes."

He's clearly hedging as he continues, "I would of course have to bring the idea before the Council, I do not have the power to simply agree on their behalf unfortunately. That said, I imagine they will consider half the tribute more than reasonable, considering the alternative would have been all the tribute."

I chuckle and raise a hand stopping him as he rises, preparing to leave, "Of course, but I wasn't done."

Now he starts to look concerned, sliding back into his chair at my urging, "O-oh?"

"Indeed, after all, the Dothraki will return eventually, won't they? In fact, they may be less inclined to accept a reasonable amount for the next tribute, after what happened to this Khalasar. I would have to think that I had caused such a hardship on Myr through my actions. Would you like to hear my solution?"

Blinking, the magister nods cautiously.

"It seems rather simple to me. I already intended to leave my current companions here when I departed for Tyrosh. A ship should be arriving within the next few days to carry me on, but the rest of my Blessed… the ones who dealt with the Khalasar outside your walls so effectively, will remain behind to set up a temple in worship to our god, the Almighty One."

I pause and the magister pipes up, a slightly humorous, but mostly polite tone to his voice, "Yes, we have heard of your god. I am told we have him to thank for our Red Priests becoming Violet Escorts."

Letting out a snort at the joke, I can only shrug, "It seems so. The Almighty One does not work exclusively through me, so I could not tell you more about that. However, getting back to my… suggestion. With my Blessed already in your city and more due to arrive in the coming months, it seems simple enough to trust in them to deal with the next Khalasar and the ones after that as well. In return, you will give another half of the current tribute you've decided upon to the Temple of the Almighty One."

Silence reigns for a few moments before the magister replies once more, "An interesting proposition Dragonlord. As I said, I must take it to the Council before agreeing to anything. If I may take my leave?"

I smile and nod, but not before throwing out one more comment, "Make sure they know that this offer has a limited lifespan. There will be no consequences if they decide against it of course, but if they wish to turn around and approach my followers for help the next time a Khalasar shows up on their door step, it will be three quarters of the tribute instead of half. I am sure you and your peers will make the right choice."

After a moment to digest that, he nods and bows slightly before departing from my presence. I watch him go with a smile on my face, until Melisandre approaches from behind me and moves to refill my wine cup. I catch her wrist as she does so and look up at her as she looks down at me with trepidation.

"H-has your slave displeased you Master?"

Still smiling, but in a way that doesn't quite reach my eyes, I slowly rise from my chair. My other hand comes up and my fingers trail across the red head's cheek as I respond, "No darling, you haven't. In fact, I was quite pleased with how you conducted yourself during the slaughter yesterday. I think you've earned a reward. Shall we retire to my room?"

Her eyes widen in shocked delight and she nods frantically before following closely behind me as I lead her into a more private setting. As soon as the door shuts behind her she shucks off her already revealing purple garments and exposes her voluptuous body to my gaze. If the twins could best be described as young, nubile, and pretty, Melisandre was the slightly older more filled out and also more experienced model.

She had a seductive smile on her face as she approached me, but her every movement still conveyed submission and obedience as she stopped just short of grabbing my shirt, instead looking up at me with questioning eyes.

"How may your slave serve you Master?"

Smirking, I gesture at the ground before me, "Kneel. I'm sure you know what to do from there."

The woman sinks to her knees and I'm left to look at her beautiful blood red hair as she fishes my cock out of its confines and slowly strokes it up and down with skillful fingers. Her tongue comes out and plays with the tip as she does most of the work with hands that have clearly touched a cock in this way before. She's doing quite well and I watch her with approving eyes as my length quickly rises and hardens, thickening in her grasp.

Eventually she moves her tongue down from the tip and along the underside of my shaft, causing me to let out an appreciative grunt as my hand instinctively comes to a rest in her hair. She seems to take that as a suggestion on what to do next, as her mouth suddenly envelopes the crown of my prick and then goes further down still. She bobs up and down even as her tongue continues to go to work, swirling around me in such a delightful way.

Grinning down at her, my hand in her hair tightens into a fist, though I continue to let her control the pace, "Mmm, my pet is a good cocksucker, aren't you? Seems to me that you've been trained, but knowing your true age I have to wonder just how often you sought out more over the years to keep your skills up. Perhaps you just feel more complete with a cock in your mouth, is that it?"

My filthy little slut just moans, eyes opening and looking up at me as she sucks lewdly on the half of my cock that is partially down her throat. That's a sign of agreement with my debasing comments if I've ever seen one, so I take hold of her fiery locks with both of my hands and begin to thrust into the former red priestess' willing mouth cunt, her lips pressed tightly around my shaft and her tongue continuing its work, even as I prevent her from breathing with every deep thrust into her throat.

She's very good, I can't deny that, and its mere minutes before I feel my first release fast approaching. I pull her face into my crotch without warning and shoot long spurts of white hot cum right down her gullet. To Melisandre's credit, she dutifully swallows every last drop, barely struggling at first until my release starts to last beyond her current air supply and she begins to twitch as she starts to run out of precious oxygen.

Her hands come up to rest on my thighs, but she doesn't push me back, catching herself before she does something that might upset me, even unconsciously. Instead, she rides out the rest of my voluminous cumshot, frantically swallowing as quickly as she can until I finally release her and pull out of her throat, leaving her gasping with wide eyes.

Smiling slightly as my grip on her hair turns into a gentle petting, "Ah, had a bit of trouble there didn't you love? I suppose my usual playmates are made of a bit sterner stuff…"

I don't mention the fact that lovely ladies like Chatana or my newest acquisitions, the twins, don't actually need to breath given what I've turned them into. That's the right choice from the looks of things, as my light adomishment lights up a fire in Melisandre's gaze as she looks up at me, her voice coming out raspy, but still clear, "I'll learn master. I'll do better next time."

Raising an eyebrow at that causes the poor girl to realize her mistake only a moment later, her eyes widening as she shakes her head, "Y-your slaves apologizes, she did not mean to…"

I cut her off by tightening my grasp of her hair once more and tilting her head up so I can look directly into her eyes, "I forgive you my darling… but you still must be punished for that lapse. I know how much you want me to fuck you. I see the looks you give me. I wonder, has your goddess given you a divine mandate in that regard?"

Chuckling, I cut off any response from the woman kneeling at my feet, "It does not matter. The fact is, right now I will not give you what you want, the fullness you might feel from our copulation. You have not earned the right just yet."

Melisandre's eyes fall, "Your slave understands Master. She will continue to strive to earn your adoration and affection."

Releasing her hair, I step away and straighten up my clothing, "Yes, to that end, you will continue to follow my orders entirely. Which means when I tell you that you are to stay here in Myr with my Ravia and the rest of my Blessed, I expect not a word of complaint."

Her eyes widen in despair, but her mouth remains shut as I continue.

"Captain Mo should arrive in Myr's port soon and when he does, I will depart with his vessel to Tyrosh. As I said, you will stay here and serve my Ravia to make sure that our plans in Myr progress at a reasonable pace. Follow her orders as you would mine, treat her as you do me. She is your Mistress and her words are my words. Serve her well, and if she has praise for you when I return, we will revisit giving you your true desire. Is that understood pet?"

I receive emphatic nodding, "Y-yes! Your slave understands perfectly. Your slave will do everything the Mistress Ravia tells her, without fail. Your slave will make you proud."

Grinning, I settle down into a chair by a table that holds several unopened letters on it, correspondence from my growing empire, "Good. Now leave me. Go find your mistress."

As Melisandre slips back into her scandalous get up, I watch her go out of the corner of one eye. Soon enough, I would more than likely fully… convert her. Until then, I was having more fun stringing her along with her knowing full well what I was doing than I would just fucking her and being done with it.

Some women had to be savored and saved for the right time.

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Year 278 AC

Westeros – King's Landing – Small Council Chambers

King Aerys II Targaryen sat at the head of his small council with a pinched expression on his face, "What was that?"

His Master of Whispers, the eunuch Varys bowed and spoke in careful, even, and noncommittal tones as he repeated himself, "There are disturbing rumors coming in from Essos your grace. Some are too crazy to believe, but too many voices hold the same story. The reports of dragons are more than likely incorrect as dragons have been gone for so long..."

Pausing for a moment to formulate his next words, Varys continues with, "However, I have been able to confirm the other more unbelievable reports as almost certainly true. Valyria is rising from the ashes of the Doom and trade to and from the Free Cities to the former peninsula is said to be on the rise. The red sky that is talked of in the histories is said to be clear and blue for the first time since the Freehold's destruction."

"… And speaking of destruction, the First Daughter is indeed gone. Reports of what exactly caused Volantis' demise are rather fanciful and contradictory, but the kernel of truth I've been able to make certain of is that Volantis is indeed gone. They seem to have had a run in with whoever is rebuilding Valyria and its nearby cities."

The Small Council sits silently for a moment, before the current Master of Laws, Symond Staunton speaks up with a scoff, "And? I don't see what this has to do with Westeros. Volantis is gone and Valyria is rising. It seems we've traded one Free City for another. What of it?"

That gets an immediate derisive response from the Hand of the King. Tywin Lannister turns his impressive glare upon the Master of Laws as he drawls out, "If you cannot see the difference between the Free Cities of Essos and Old Valyria reborn, then I do not understand how you possibly gained the position of Master of Laws. I find myself suddenly questioning your appointment far more ardently than before."

Symond's face goes red in a combination of anger and embarrassment but before he can reply Lucerys Velaryon, the Master of Ships, pipes up, "Indeed. I've heard some rumors myself, mostly from sailors with loose tongues in the harbor. Supposedly, Slaver's Bay has already pledged allegiance to this new Valyria. This could be the start of a second coming, and that could affect Westeros very easily in very dire ways, depending how far this new Valyria goes."

Ser Gerold Hightower, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and a man of few words when it came to the politics of the Small Council, chose that moment to speak, "Thoros of Myr spoke of this."

Much to his chagrin, Aerys had been thinking along the same lines, and as his gaze snapped to the stoic Lord Commander, he found that the knight clearly knew he had and also knew that he was one of the few men who could get away with mentioning such a thing in the King's presence. Aerys knew that Gerold was too loyal to mock his King. He was merely speaking fact.

Facts Aerys was forced to acknowledge, as he finally spoke again, "Indeed. What was it he said before I had him put to death? Valyria will doom us all?"

Varys clears his throat as he corrects the King, "Doom comes from Valyria were his exact words I believe, your majesty."

Tywin scoffs as he interjects, "The Red Priest also claimed darkness was moving to swallow Essos whole and that our only salvation rested in looking to the Lord of Light for guidance and forsaking the Seven. I'm sure we all know what has happened there. If we'd listened to Thoros of Myr, we'd all be dead by suicide or servants of this new Lady of Illumination, and driven to insanity by the transition."

"Yes, Volantis is gone. Yes, Valyria's rise is a concern to be watched carefully. But Westeros is as strong and united as it has ever been. A wise king sits the Iron Throne with a powerful heir and the Seven Kingdoms are prosperous. Should we keep watch on the events of Essos? Yes. But Winter is coming as the Starks are fond of saying and we have no idea how long this one will last. That is where the lion's share of our attention must be turned. I am sure our King agrees."

King Aerys II Targaryen could do nothing more than nod slowly and respond in the affirmative, even as on the inside he was reminded once again who held the power in this damnable chamber. Given enough time, Tywin's words would have been his own because at the end of the day they were the right response. But the man had once again preempted him and been the sensible voice of reason, raising his esteem further above Aerys in the eyes of the other Small Council members.

As the council meeting ended, Aerys remained seated, quietly grinding his teeth together as he stewed in his own self-pity. He'd tried to turn things around with Duskendale. He had wanted to show that he was King and Tywin was nothing more than his Hand, by dealing with the damnable rebels himself. Instead, all he had to show for it was several months of humiliating captivity. He'd had to be fucking rescued like a maiden in distress.

Even the death of every member of House Darklyn hadn't been enough to assuage his fury. Mostly because even those deaths had not been enough to recover from the further damage done to his image in the eyes of his people. Tywin played lip service to Aerys by calling him a wise king, but in reality, everyone knew the truth. Aerys even knew the truth at this point. It was Tywin, all Tywin.

The real question now was simple. Trying to remind Tywin of his place and show the people of Westeros that Aerys was the sole ruler of the Seven Kingdoms had failed. All that was left was revenge. Tywin had taken something of value from Aerys. What could Aerys take in turn? He would have to think on this…

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