Chapter 2: Dothraki
I'm currently 2 years old, and in these measly two years, I've seen more deaths than an army veteran back from the battlefield. Duels to the death were a common occurrence in the khalasar,
After all, everyone wanted to prove he is stronger than their neighbours, it is a matter of bravery and a show of strength. The first time my mother Layaffi took me to watch one of those duels, which are honestly better-called death matches, as although they are meant to be simple friendly duels, they most likely than not end in one of the participants being a cold corpse.
Back to topic, when I first saw one of those duels, I was impressed. They fought bravely and like savages, without armour or fear of injury. However by the end of the fight when the loser's head was cut off from his shoulders...I passed out.
It was too much mental stress for a two-year-old mind. I recovered a few days later, though my mother took this as a sign of weakness, and insisted that I got used to death. So from then on, at every chance she would get, we would go to see duels, executions, and wars...from the side of course.
Speaking of wars, there was one every couple of months, either we're raiding a settlement or fighting other khalasars. Forgot to mention, I met my father, built like a bodybuilder, he has tanned bronze skin and long black braided hair so long it reached the middle of his back.
In Dothraki culture, a warrior never cuts his hair until he is defeated in battle, and looking at my father's, it's safe to say he's one tough dude.
He was the tough love kind, he never kissed or hugged me, but patted my back a lot and looked at me fondly. Actually, he was kind of overprotective. When my mother would take me to watch wars, he would place half of his bloodriders to guard us. Hard from the outside, soft-...softer on the inside.
When he first returned, I discovered that our khalasar is actually much larger than I first speculated, this is because all men and women go to war except the injured and sick. Now with everyone here, I was able to witness a sea of tents extending far away.
My guess is that it's about 15 to 18 thousand warriors, making this but a medium-sized khalasar. Khal Drogo in the show had 40 thousand. Seems I'll have to work hard in the future.
This makes my this khalasar ranked third from my knowledge. The khalasar of Khal Viqallo to the northwest of Essos has 50,000 screamers. While The khalasar of Khal Horro is currently about 20,000 men strong and wanders in the areas around Myr.
The khalasar right under us, occupying the fourth place, is the khalasar of Khal Azho, with 12,000 Dothraki.
Bloodriders fulfil the roles of guards, brothers, shadows, and friends to the khal in ways that run deeper than the oath of the Kingsguard to the king on the Iron Throne. The khal and his bloodriders commonly refer to each other as "blood of my blood".
One weird thing, however, is that after each war, father comes back home with three cups worth of blood....and makes each of us drink a cup.
Overlooking the fact that a 2-year-old (me) was forced to drink blood, which I don't think is very healthy, why was the most interesting yet messed up answer.
Apparently, each khal has his very own unique way of celebrating a strong enemy. Like adding the cut-off hair braid of the defeated enemy to your own hair, marking tattoos on your body for every khal you kill.
My father's unique celebration is to bring himself and his family a cup of blood from the strongest warrior he's fought after a war, and making them drink it. It symbolises taking the enemy's strength for yourself and your family.
I don't really mind though, I found the taste rather sweet, which was weird enough for me as I knew blood didn't taste like that. To make matters even more bizarre, when asked, my mother said it tasted awful and told me to just endure it. This shall require further research.
And yes, I can already talk at two years old, making my mother break into tears that her son is a genius and my father to remark that she had a successful stallion heart ceremony before she gave birth to me.
During the ceremony, the khaleesi will attempt to consume the heart of a stallion under the supervision of the dosh khaleen. Due to the prohibition on bearing steel in Vaes Dothrak, the mother must tear apart the stallion's heart with her bare teeth and fingernails.
If she eats the entire heart, she will bear a son who is strong and swift and fearless; if she chokes on the blood or retches up the flesh, the omens are less favourable — the child might be stillborn, weak, deformed or female.
I remember Daenerys doing the same thing in the show, however her baby came out stillborn and deformed due to the blood magic, which is forbidden by Dothraki culture, that was used by Mirri Maz Duur at the request of Daenerys herself in an attempt to heal khal Drogo.
The taste of blood wasn't the only strange thing happening, after every cup of blood I consumed, I can feel my strength increase. My conjecture is that I somehow absorb a portion of strength from whoever that blood belonged to, who is supposedly the strongest opponent father faced...so the amount of strength I absorb is overwhelming.
And as a side effect, whenever I drink a cup of blood, I fall into a deep sleep for a couple of days, I'm guessing my body is giving itself time to adapt. I also noticed that I get tired more easily while under the sun, while it's night-time however, I feel like a fish in the sea.
...I'm not stupid, I'm realising what this is all pointing at, a vampire...however I'm not dead, my body is still warm to the touch, and I don't have red eyes or fangs. So the only other source for these anomalies is the red lightning that struck me before I was reborn.
Since reaching that conclusion, I began to meditate every night before sleeping, hoping to get something, anything from it.
But only time would tell if my efforts bore fruit.
2 years later...
Dothraki, literally means "riders". Dothraki boys learn to shoot bows from horseback when they are only four years old. The Dothraki will abandon a sick or injured leader who can no longer ride a horse.
I am experiencing this first hand, as evident by my current position on top of a horse....ACK!! I fell miserably again, like the countless times before this, but I was shown no mercy.
I was immediately picked up and placed on the horse again, as harsh as this training method sounds, it is effective. As in a few weeks, I was already able to ride smoothly on top of the horse, make it jump, run and turn and mount it on my own.
I was also being taught how to use a longbows that are huge, and recurved with impressive range and striking power that can be fired from horseback and an arakh (a curved sword), as well as daggers and whips....why do I have to learn how to use whips again?
My father, as the Khal, brought me the best (harshest) trainers to teach me (beat into me) how to use those weapons skillfully. I was particularly good with the whip...I don't like where this is going.
I am currently training with an arakh from one muscular old man, with a bald head and a long grey beard and eyes.
*Slash*
I dodge.
*Thrust*
I dodge.
*Low slide kick*
I don't dodg-ACK PFFFFF.
"*COUGH* *Cough*, can you go a little easy on me old man! I'm only four you old fart!" I shouted, or squeaked with how high pitch my voice is right now.
"You only dodge bit rarely ever attack, dodging is good, but it will never win you a fight! In a fight, you need to be constantly on the move, if there's no space you go around your enemy in circles. After you parry or dodge a blow, you counter with a decisive blow. You need to search for an opening..."
Oh, my great stallion! Won't this old man shut up, now that he's in his lecture mode, I can just sleep while keeping my eyes open and nodding every 5 seconds. *Hhhaahh* I'm tired~zzZZ.
"Isn't that right Virsal?"
*Nods*
"You move counterclockwise towards the enemy's blind spot and.."
*Nods*
"Now let's end this for today, meet me here tomorrow at first light" he then turns around and leaves.
*Nods*
*Nods*
*Nods*
......
30 minutes later..
*Nods* *Blinks* *looks around*
"Huh?.."
********************************
Chapter 3: Singularity..My power
2 years later...
In Game of Thrones, magic was always a tricky subject. There were magical creatures like dragons, white walkers and their king with his ice and undead magic, children of the forest and even giants. However, there were no wizards or magic users, maybe in the past but not now.
Now, what is left are the few practitioners of blood magic, and the priestesses of R'hllor, the lord of light, and widely known as the Red God. These priests and priestesses are only able to see visions through fire, nothing too fancy.
The Dothraki have a hatred and distrust of magic, but do believe in omens from the Great Stallion, which are interpreted by the Dosh Khaleen. The Dothraki tend to be fairly superstitious, and will wait until the omens are favourable to go to war.
However, what I'm seeing right now....can only be described as magical.
........
Another 4 years later...
I'm now 10 years old, these past years can be described as peaceful...relatively. The usual, feasts, drinking, training, then raiding. Normal Dothraki crap.
Today is a very special day, for it is the day I become a man.....damn, that's one hell of an imagination. I will kill someone, this is how I become a 'man' in Dothraki culture.
I always knew this day would come, but not this soon. And no matter how much I prepared mentally, I still find myself shaking and my heart beating like a horse's galloping.
I slowly walk into an arena, nothing fancy, it was a circle outlined by wooden logs, with Dothraki surrounding it and shouting in excitement. I was wearing rough pants with a rope tied around my waist to keep it up. Around my hands, I wrapped a piece of cloth tightly around it, the way MMA fighters do.
At first, this was going to be an execution, a simple holding the sword and cutting a head kind of event. However I demanded that he duel with me in a deathmatch, my choice serves multiple purposes.
It made my parents proud and the Dothraki impressed that a ten-year-old chose such a thing. Second, this would be my first duel where my life and death are on the line.
Most importantly, I want to show off my skills and hard work these past 6 years. 6 years of gruelling training, fighting, working
and honing my skills. 6 years of blood and sweat. 6 years of training every day until my body became dropped from exhaustion or my hands became numb.
Dothraki only follow the strongest, and if I were to lead them after my father, I'll have to show them just how strong I am. I need to take this seriously, no holding back.
As for what crime he committed to be sentenced to execution in the first place? I didn't ask, nor will I. For I don't care, it doesn't change the fact that I'll have to kill him today.
A couple of years ago, I would have been in a moral dilemma about this, but now, after seeing death every day for ten years....I was no longer cowardly or frightened.
Scared? Certainly, who wouldn't, however I control my fear, and it's not fear that controls me anymore. On the other hand, I am also excited, excited and thrilled to prove to everyone how strong I am, excited to see my mother say she is proud of me, and excited for my father to give me a manly smack on the back.
As I approach the arena, everyone marvels at my sight. I had no baby fat despite being ten years old, and my body was toned and chiselled, which is unusual for my age. I was 158 cm, or 5 ft 2. The same height as my mother.
However what made them marvel, aside from my handsome face, crystal blue eyes and long black hair tied in a ponytail.....narcissistic much?....is my white skin.....racist much?... Don't get me wrong, it was that my skin was unusually white, I never got tanned despite being under the sun all day everyday.
While everyone around me has bronze or slightly tanned skin, my skin is as white as milk. A heavenly beauty with jade skin...*ahem* this is not a WUXIA NOVEL!!
I headed to the weapon rack to the side of the arena, I picked a whip that I made myself, it's handle was made of bronze and was shaped like the handle of a sword, except that the handguard curved downwards from a single direction instead of two that is typical in swords.
The whip itself was made of tens of interlinking iron segments that ended with a sharp deadly tip that is also heavier than the rest of the chain, I made it this way to add blunt force and make gathering momentum easier.
After picking it up with ease despite its weight of 20 kg, I walked to the centre of the arena, and looked at my opponent.
He was certainly taller than me , standing at 6ft or 183 cm. He wore a rusted piece of breastplate that he probably plundered from somewhere. Dothraki don't fight with armour, so it was clear he didn't care about the honour, or appearing brave, he just wanted to win.
Either way, the harder it is for me, and the stronger he is the better. This will only add to the impact my victory would bring.
As I walked and stood a couple of steps Infront of him, standing a head shorter than him, he smirked.
"Ready to die, brat! You should've gone ahead with the execution, too bad you can't escape me now!" He said arrogantly.
Oh, how I would love to see his face when I wipe that smirk off of him. Looking back, my mother appeared rather calm. She knew what I was capable of as she often saw me duelling with the bloodriders. Surprisingly, it was my father who was staring intently, looking ready to jump out of his seat at any sign of my life being in danger.
What did I say, he was just a big teddy bear on the inside. Flashing my parents with a comforting, confident smile, I spoke loudly to all the Dothraki present.
"Watch closely Dothraki! For I, under the eyes and blessings of the great stallion, shall rid you of this scum, and erase him from our lives! And looking at him now, It seems I over-prepared!"
With that last word, I dropped my whip to the ground and held my hands up Infront of my face. Although the Dothraki didn't teach me boxing, obviously, I already learned kickboxing and Kung Fu in my previous life.
This, combined with the Dothraki fighting style and my strength that is twice that of a grown-up man due to the blood strengthening, as I now like to call it, makes me a formidable opponent, even without a weapon.
Seeing me drop my weapon, my opponent's face turned red from anger and his frown deepened, then like a bull seeing boob- a red cloth, he charged, holding his arakh up high.
I didn't move. When he was close enough, he slashed down with all the force he can muster, clearly wanting to finish me off with one blow.
I smirked. Then with a quick fluid motion, twisted my body to the right, avoiding the slash by a hair's breadth, then, with my elbow stretched as back as I can, and making use of the momentum of my twisted body twisting back, threw a powerful right hook to his face.
Having just slashed, his balance and footing were all messed up, and couldn't dodge the blow.
*SMACKK!!* *Crack*
Staggering back, he held his face, which was now a bloody mess. His nose was broken, and one of his eyes already turned black.
"Raaaaa!!" With a mad war-cry, containing his pent-up pain, anger and rage, he swiped his arakh horizontally in a sweeping motion.
I was not expecting him to respond so quickly, but my honed senses still responded, and as if on reflex, I jumped so hard that my legs were above his head.
One of the perks of having twice the strength of an adult human yet still having the body mass of a teenager.
After I practically flew upwards, impressing the crowd with my agility and leg strength, I twisted in the air and delivered a spinning sidekick to the side of my opponent's head.
*BAM* *CRACK* *RIP*
From how strong the force of my kick was, his head got ripped off his shoulders and flew into the crowd like a soccer ball, making them cheer like madmen.
""VIRSAL!! VIRSAL!!! VIRSAL!! VIRSAL!!!"
After I landed, I looked coldly at the corpse, then smiled and raised my right fist into the air, making the crowd even rowdier.
However, on the inside, I was startled. I thought I would be disgusted by myself, horrified or even guilty...but I felt nothing of those. All I felt was the adrenaline rushing through my veins as I fought, and the thrill of being at death's door. All that I could think of is that I wanted more.
"Hahahaha" This deep voice...
Out of my stupor, I look over at my father to see him laughing like a maniac. His grin stretched across his face, and his chest swelled upwards with pride.
This makes me calm down from my internal panic, and warmth spread in my chest. After all, I still have a family that will support me no matter the horrors I create , and it will only grow in size in the future.
After an ensuing feast that lasted till night-time, where I also had my first taste of the Dothraki special pepper beer. Which ultimately led to me spitting it all out...this will need some getting used to...which in turn incurred a fit of laughter from my father at my misery, looking as if he was recalling his first similar experience.
After the last Dothraki left our tent, I looked towards my father to see a small barely discernible smile on his face, which means my plans are good to go.
"Father, um, since I'm a man now, would it be possible for me to acquire a personal slave for myself?" I asked smilingly.
My father stopped what he was doing and looked at me seriously...which is his usual expression... And said "Mmm, yes you can"
But before I celebrated, he added " But you'll have to come with me to our next raid and get one yourself"
Wait...I'll participate in a raid!! Heck yes! I always wanted to go but always refused. It was this dark desire inside me that needed to get fulfilled, something that could have never thought of doing or was able to do in my past life.
I always watched the Dothraki that went with my father on raids returning with heaps of supplies, food, slaves and gold, and I always envied them, I also want to have something of my own that I acquired through my efforts and blood.
This is just perfect! Two birds, one stone.
"When are we going!" I inquired, not hiding my blatant excitement in the least.
He rubbed my head and smiled "In three days, so get ready!"
Nodding, I excused myself to my room. Sat on the bed and crossed my legs. This was my meditating position. During the past 6 years of meditating, I achieved incredible success.
After the first two years, when I was 6, I was able to unlock and enter my mind space. My consciousness was sucked into my mind, where I finally found the answers to all my questions, or at least started to.
Inside the all-black space, in the centre, there was a bright, blood-red swirling mass, hundreds of tendrils of this red substance interlocking and shining brightly with red lightning pulsing through them from time to time.
In the past, this vortex of tendrils was messy and interlocked, like a complicated and entangled node. So since I was six, I dedicated 2 hours of my day before sleep, to separate them from each other in an orderly manner.
The more tendrils I unravel, and the more I approached the centre of the mass, the brighter the colour of the tendrils became, and the more complex.
Finally, today, I will be unlocking the last string. This one alone took me 3 months to separate, all it needs now is a simple pull.
Calming my anticipation, I pulled. Immediately after, a flash of red light, along with the sounds of lightning thundered. The tendrils slowly began to engulf my translucent form, I didn't panic, surprisingly, I instinctively knew that this thing was just trying to make me understand something.
A while later, I was already inside a cocoon of red. From the inside, several strings connected to my head. If someone entered my room, they would've seen my veins glowing red.
Once all the strings connected from the cocoon to my head, information kept flooding in. Heaps of information kept on coming without stopping. My mind subconsciously started to organise this mass of new information I was receiving.
By the end, I finally knew. Why I gained strength when I drank blood, how I reincarnated, and how I can become stronger relying upon this ability.
I finally understood...everything.
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