"This is firewine brewed by the Dothraki," Shireen answered for Drogo. "Only the bravest Dothraki Khals can drink it."
She had taken a small sip and immediately been choked into a coughing fit. Only after asking Drogo did she learn the wine's name and origin.
Hearing the words "bravest Dothraki Khals," Tyrion was reminded of Shae's frequent cries of "My Stallion!"
*I must finish this wine,* he resolved. *Even if I have to sip it slowly, I will finish it.*
Having made his decision, Tyrion took two bites of meat and raised his cup again. Drogo, surprised that Tyrion still dared to drink, glanced at him and then knocked back his own cup in a single gulp.
Seeing Drogo finish another full cup, Tyrion's eyelids twitched. This time, however, he didn't try to force himself to drink it all at once. He took only a small sip, then immediately chased it with several large gulps of water and another bite of meat.
Shireen hadn't expected Tyrion to keep drinking. She didn't realize that her own words had spurred him on, forcing him to finish the remaining firewine in his cup.
The small jar of firewine held only four or five cups. Drogo drank one cup at a time, while Tyrion took small sips. By the time Drogo finished the jar, Tyrion had finally drained the last half-cup.
By now, Tyrion's face was flushed crimson, his gaze unfocused. Only after draining the last drop from his cup did he finally collapse onto the table, as if his mission had been completed.
Shireen and Shae exchanged a glance, then looked at Drogo. The skin between his scales glowed with a faint red light, and his eyes burned as bright and piercing as two roaring torches.
Shireen knew Drogo wasn't drunk. Seeing that Tyrion had been completely defeated, she bid Shae a somewhat awkward farewell and took the book from the bedside.
Drogo, as if nothing had happened, left the carriage with Shireen. When they returned to her carriage, the two vehicles had already left Pentos and were heading southeast along the main road.
"Drogo, you actually got Tyrion the Imp drunk!" Shireen exclaimed excitedly as she entered the carriage. Seeing Tyrion passed out on the table had been quite amusing to her.
Drogo merely curled his lip. Getting Tyrion drunk was nothing to him—after all, he was a dragon!
He had drunk most of the wine, but he hadn't dared to feast on the meat, or else no one else would have had any. Now, he needed to head to the grasslands to supplement his diet, or it would affect his growth and development.
He had also eaten up all the rations he and Shireen had stored and needed to stock up on some more in the grasslands.
After bidding Shireen farewell, Drogo circled the area carefully. Only when he was sure no danger lurked did he fly off toward the grasslands.
Nowadays, almost every Dothraki on the grasslands knew of Drogo, the black dragon, and each hoped their khalasar would be blessed with his visit.
After entering the grasslands, he wasted no time, striking quickly and decisively. He would feast, leave gold coins behind, and then fly off—until he reached the final khalasar, where he both ate his fill and took away a large portion of food.
An hour later, the carriage guards saw Drogo, who had just flown away, returning with a cloth sack as large as a warhorse dangling from his claws.
They couldn't fathom how such a small dragon could carry an object dozens of times its own size and still fly effortlessly through the sky.
Drogo had reverted to his juvenile form long before approaching the carriage, so they never saw his adult appearance.
Stopping the carriage and its guards, Drogo dropped the massive sack. He had Shireen call Shae to help distribute the food—some to be stored in the carriage, and the rest given to the guards and coachmen.
When the sack was unfolded, the coachmen and guards' eyes gleamed with envy. They carried only dry rations and water, relying on passing through bustling areas for a decent meal. They never expected Drogo to return after just an hour with such an abundance of delicious food.
The food Shireen and her companions had left was not much. Drogo, already full, kept only a few pieces of fruit as snacks. More than half of the food in the sack was left for the seven guards and coachmen.
They never expected Drogo to share the food he brought, let alone that it would include a variety of snacks and even horse milk wine.
The carriage stopped for a short rest, and only after the guards had eaten and drunk their fill did they continue their journey.
The next morning, Tyrion opened his eyes groggily. He stared at the ornate interior of the carriage for a long moment before remembering he was inside one. Recalling last night's drinking, he realized he had actually been plied drunk by a little dragon.
Seeing Tyrion awake, Shae quickly poured him a glass of water.
"Where are we?" Tyrion asked, nursing a splitting headache.
"I don't know," Shae replied. "The guards said there's a small town ahead where we can rest for the night. Do you have any idea you've been asleep for an entire day and night?" She hadn't expected Tyrion to get this drunk.
"How could I sleep so long?" Tyrion muttered, surprised by his own stamina. He pulled back the curtain and squinted as the morning sunlight flooded the carriage, momentarily blinding him.
He stepped out to relieve himself, then splashed water on his face. For a moment, he stood there, dazed, not knowing what to do next.
Though he knew the mysterious figure had invited him to Slaver's Bay to serve Queen Daenerys, he still felt uncertain. He had no idea how Daenerys would treat a Lannister like him.
***
In the Throne Room of King's Landing, all the council members had assembled except for the most important figure, the Hand of the King, Tywin. The others could only wait patiently.
Another half hour passed, and Tywin still hadn't arrived. The council members were becoming restless. "Lord Tywin must be exhausted from overwork, which is why he's running late," Master of Ships Mace Tyrell said.
After Mace spoke, not a single person replied. No one in the room even bothered to acknowledge this man—the Lord of Highgarden, the Queen of Thorns' useless son, who had been forced into the position of Master of Ships. Cersei glanced at him with utter disgust before turning away.
Grand Maester Pycelle fidgeted with the heavy chain around his neck, while Varys sat with his hands tucked into his sleeves, as still as a meditating monk. Cersei shifted in her chair, her impatience evident.
Just then, the doors to the Throne Room were thrown open. Everyone turned, expecting to see the Hand of the King, but to their surprise, it was Ser Marillion of the Kingsguard who entered.
With a grave expression, Marillion approached Cersei and whispered two sentences in her ear.
"What?"
Cersei shot to her feet and stormed out of the room. Seeing her violent reaction, the others sensed something was terribly wrong and followed her out.
Cersei headed straight for the Tower of the Hand, nearly colliding with Jaime, who was also rushing to the scene.
After another five-minute walk, they reached the tower, its entrance already swarming with guards. Cersei and Jaime burst into Tywin's bedchamber. Two more guards stood at the bedside, while a maidservant trembled by the door, wiping tears from her eyes.
"Father!" Cersei shrieked, throwing herself toward Tywin, who lay on his back in his grey nightgown.
Seeing his father's face—purple and bloated, his death throes as horrific and familiar as Joffrey's—Jaime instantly drew the connection. The two deaths were identical.
"The Strangler!" Pycelle cried, arriving at the bedside and confirming Jaime's grim realization.
"Find Tyrion! Now!" Cersei screamed at the Gold Cloaks guarding the door, the word *Strangler* still ringing in her ears.
-----------------------
Completed English PDF of this fan-fic on my Patreon shop if you want to support and own the full fan-fic in one go. Just grab the PDF and binge the entire story from start to finish!
Guys, I've uploaded some High Quality english translated fanfic on my Patreon shop! Feel free to check it out-if you're interested, you can grab a copy and support me there.
Here are a few titles of recently uploaded fanfics:
New Addition:
" Game of Thrones: Viserys, the Three-Headed Dragon "
" Game of Thrones: The Evil Dragon's Roar "
" Game of Thrones: The Day the Gods Vanished "
" Game of Thrones: The Battle Royale Game "
" Game of Thrones: Dance of the Blood Dragons — Prince Daemon (18+) "
" Three Kingdoms: I, Liu Bei, Am Also an Unrivaled Warrior "
" Game of Thrones: Xiang Yu Conquers the Seven Kingdoms "
" Game of Thrones: The Holy Flame Empress "
" Game of Thrones: Executed at the Start, I Awakened the Kill System "
" Game of Thrones: The Holy Flame King "
Your support means a lot-thanks in advance, legends!
many more are available 25+.
patreon.com/EminentWriter
(End of Chapter)