In the plan agreed upon by Aegon and Tyrion, once the marriage alliance was sealed, the knights of the Vale would immediately march south to King's Landing to help Aegon seize the Iron Throne.
After that, he would issue commands across the realm, sweep away all opposing forces, and ultimately take control of the unified Seven Kingdoms.
Littlefinger had no reason to refuse such a plan. But after Littlefinger's death, Sansa rose to power. As queen, Protector of the Vale, and Queen in the North, she gained tremendous influence.
Besides, Aegon was still young in temperament. He was not the seasoned, decisive type of king who had ruled for many years, and he was easily swayed by whispers on the pillow.
Sansa wanted revenge.
The Vale bordered the Riverlands. Once you left the Mountains of the Moon and passed the Bloody Gate, it was just a thousand-kilometer ride north along the Kingsroad to the Frey stronghold at the Twins.Her maternal grandfather's Riverrun could be set aside for now, but Walder Frey—who had murdered her brother and mother and slaughtered so many Northern nobles—could not be allowed to go unpunished.
"I won't deny that I want revenge, but what's wrong with vassals helping their queen avenge her wrongs?" Queen Sansa declared with unshakable confidence, leaving no room for rebuttal.
After all, Aegon was the king. They were his vassals, and also the queen's vassals. They should fight for her honor, and even more so, they should help wash away her grievances.
"Besides, the Freys are the most infamous nouveau riche in the Seven Kingdoms, with the richest stores of grain and wealth in the Riverlands.
We have three dragons. There's no need to mobilize the entire army. A force of two thousand light cavalry will guarantee victory within half a month."
Even Tyrion was persuaded by this reasoning.
"Sigh… Aegon managed to find such a clever wife!" Aunt Dany remarked.
"Your Grace, Sansa Stark is not an easy person," Marwyn warned.
"This is a good thing. With a wise wife, a husband avoids disaster. Sansa will help Aegon truly gain a foothold in Westeros," the Dragon Queen said with satisfaction.
Aunt Dany sincerely hoped her nephew would grow more resilient—more patient, more enduring, better at surviving schemes and assassinations. Two deer, the prophesied child, Cersei, Euron, assassins and conspiracies, and even the White Walkers and the Three-Eyed Raven beyond the Wall… so many hardships still awaited him.
With her nephew standing at the front, not only would her own burdens lighten, but little stable boy Simba could also grow up in peace.
"We're here—Vaes Dothrak!"
The Dragon Queen tugged on the reins, and her silver mare began to accelerate in a steady rhythm.
Ding ding dang dang…Dozens of bells behind her head chimed together in a triumphant melody.
This was the Dothraki Sea, the homeland of the horsemen.
Gazing in all directions, the vast, empty plains stretched like a wool carpet, spreading outward to the horizon—flat and boundless as far as the eye could see.
There were no hills or mountains, no trees, cities, or proper roads—only endless grasslands where wind stirred the clouds and the waist-high slender blades rippled like waves.
The Dothraki Sea was exactly what its name promised: an ocean of grass.
Hranar grass was the dominant species here. In the rainy season (summer), it glistened with lush green, making the grasslands look like a heaving green ocean.
As the dry season approached (autumn), Hranar grass bloomed small red flowers, dyeing the plains into a vast sea of blood.
When the dry season arrived (winter), the blossoms fell and seeds scattered, and the whole world shifted into a deep bronze hue.
At this moment, the Dragon Queen led her 500 khas through a sea of dark green and ancient yellow.
Besides Hranar, there were lemon-yellow blossoms, deep indigo broadleaf grasses, blue and orange grasses, and even some with rainbow-colored patches.
This was a sea of grass. The horsemen were like fish, and the khas were like schools, living within the Dothraki Sea.
"At last—we're back again!"
Aggo gazed at the towering Horse Gate of Vaes Dothrak in the distance, letting out a long, heartfelt sigh.
"This time, we will conquer this place," Rakharo declared loudly, patting the Valyrian steel arakh at his waist.
Jhogo remained expressionless, saying nothing.
"We need to hurry. The Battle of Meereen is what truly matters. We can't waste too much time in the Horse City," Qhono said solemnly.
"Don't worry. I'll be quick," Dany replied with a light smile from atop her silver mare.
As the allied army drew closer to Meereen, she had finally decided to act on the horsemen.
Yes—she would unify the Dothraki Sea and be crowned Heavenly Khagan of the Great Grass Sea.
Five hundred elite riders pressed forward along the path where grass stalks were crushed to reveal brown soil, slowing as they approached the Horse Gate.
The full name of the Horse City was Vaes Dothrak. Though called a city, it was really just a long-standing settlement near the mountains and a lake.
A grassland settlement—with no walls, no castles, and no towering keeps.
But it did have one extraordinary gate.
Even though wind could blow freely through the wall-less city, the Dothraki held to an unwritten rule: anyone entering or leaving Vaes Dothrak must pass through the Horse Gate.
The gate consisted of two enormous bronze stallions, each rearing on their hind legs with forelegs raised—an iconic pose seen in every film, show, or image featuring a gallant horse.
Each horse held its two forehooves high, meeting more than thirty meters above the ground to form a pointed arch.
Standing beneath the gate, Dany felt an unexpected sense of beauty.
Especially when she looked past the gate at the endless clusters of yurts and, farther still, the purple Mother of Mountains. The Horse Gate framed the grassland landscape like a natural border to a vast painting.
"Ahhh—the Dragon Queen! The Dragon Queen is here!"
"Ahhhh! The first Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea has arrived at the Horse City!"
"Ah! Daenerys has brought her khas back to Vaes Dothrak!"
Even before the Dragon Queen passed through the Horse Gate, passersby along the road recognized her, and their cries of astonishment crackled outward like a long string of firecrackers stretching away from the gate.
Ma Dothraki is not closed off. On the contrary, it is extremely welcoming toward foreign merchants.
The horselords will attack the cities, towns, and villages of other peoples as they please, plundering their wealth and slaughtering their inhabitants.
However, on the Great Grass Sea, they never provoke any caravan that is traveling to Ma Dothraki for trade.
Caravans from Yi Ti, Asshai, the Shadow Lands, and the coasts of the Jade Sea gather here to buy and sell goods. Many merchants also bring specialties from the western world. They come from city-states such as Qohor, Pentos, Slaver's Bay, and Volantis, and even merchants from Westeros are plentiful.
It is astonishing that a people with no concept of finance managed to turn Ma Dothraki into the center of overland trade between East and West.
It is the land-based Qarth.
One very important reason is that Ma Dothraki is safe, yet charges no trade taxes.
Yes, the horselords only accept gifts. They have no tax collectors or customs officials.
Countless people come here to do business, especially after Daenerys blocked sea trade.
On the dirt road from the Horse Gate to the central market, caravans driving horses and pushing camels travel in long chains, slowing Daenerys and her companions.
Still…
The dense jingling of bells coming from the Dragon Queen's braids was far more effective than a police siren blaring at 120 decibels, carrying the air of a street-clearing tiger.
Merchants from all over the world, whether or not they recognized the Dragon Queen, understood one rule if they were doing business in Ma Dothraki: the longer the braids and the more numerous and louder the bells, the more dangerous the person.
Daenerys had thick silver hair braided into more than a dozen small plaits that hung to her chest. They were not particularly long, but there were far too many bells on them.
Gold, silver, copper, and iron — bright, colorful, shining so brilliantly they dazzled the eyes.
"My gods, how does she have that many bells? They must be fake," a man in a tiger-skin vest exclaimed.
"You must have crawled out of some deep forest. You don't even recognize her?" a female warrior beside him said with disdain.
Her cheeks were inlaid with red jade, and her jewel-studded breasts were completely exposed. She was a warrior from one of the descendant city-states of Hael Kholon.
"I come from the eastern Bone Mountains. So what?"
"As expected, a wild man straight out of the mountains." The red-jade warrior sighed with superior pride and began recounting the Dragon Queen's glorious deeds.
"By the standard of an ordinary horselord, one earns a bell by killing a notable figure. Her bells could fill a horse cart." Finally, the red-jade warrior concluded.
"Hss… that terrifying!"
Under the reverent gazes of merchants and horselords alike, Daenerys, riding Little Silver, was the first to pass through the Horse Gate, with the bloodriders and Quaithe close behind.
Next came five hundred roaring warriors wearing Dothraki vests of the same color and sigil.
Each one was tall, powerful, and proud.
Beyond the Horse Gate, there were no markets or yurts but a long "Avenue of the Gods."
The so-called Avenue of the Gods was a road full of ruts and dry grass, flanked by statues of gods and heroes that the horselords had plundered from various city-states.
There were ancient deities once worshipped by long-fallen cities and now forgotten, and stone statues of kings seated on their thrones.
There were also monsters from the Shadow Lands: a black-iron dragon with jeweled eyes, a snarling griffin, a manticoresque lion-scorpion raising its tail to strike, and even statues that were simply demons — grotesque and horrifying, yet carved with such vivid detail that they filled the faint-hearted with dread.
Most of the stone and metal statues had been worn down by the wind and rain of centuries, leaving their faces broken and unrecognizable.
"Huh? Where's my valyrian steel statue? It was still here last time." Daenerys suddenly exclaimed in confusion.
"Ask the dosh khaleen. Word probably got out, and someone dragged it away." Quaithe looked around and comforted her. "But don't worry. The horselords only steal from others. It must still be hidden somewhere in Ma Dothraki."
Speak of the dosh khaleen, and they appeared.
Before they reached the marketplace, a large procession emerged from the opposite end of the Avenue of the Gods.
The rulers of Ma Dothraki — the dosh khaleen!
Some were ancient as rotting wood, leaning on long, carved staffs, each step looking like the last of their lives — struggling, trembling.
Others were tall, strong middle-aged women walking proudly without the slightest hint of fear, as if each one were a khaleesi in her own right.
There were also young wives, in their teens or twenties, who looked at the Dragon Queen on Little Silver with eyes full of curiosity and admiration.
There were forty-five dosh khaleen in total, followed by several times their number in eunuchs and slaves.
All of them had once been khaleesis. When their husbands died and a new khal chose a new khaleesi, they were sent here to govern the vast Dothraki Sea.
When a khal dies, no horselord is allowed to touch his widow. She remains in Ma Dothraki as a wise woman.
Any khal who must make an important decision travels to Ma Dothraki to seek the advice of the dosh khaleen and ask them to divine fortune and disaster.
Other than being unable to leave Ma Dothraki, the dosh khaleen possess great status and power.
"Daenerys, have you returned to join us?" asked the eldest of the crones, stepping forward and shouting sternly.
"No. I've returned to rule you."
(End of chapter)
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