Her daughters would not be slaves. Her son would not be a plaything for riders. The child inside her would be born in peace.
The empire had given them that. Whatever came later, that truth could not be taken away.
…
A year later V
The sun beat down on the endless stretch of stone and brick. The Grass Road gleamed in the light, its surface hot and steady beneath the hooves of Naggo's horse. He rode at a measured pace, eyes scanning the horizon, his hand never far from the hilt of his curved arakh.
Patrolling the Grass Road was no small duty. It was the lifeline of the Eastern Empire, a vein through which trade and wealth flowed. Once, the ride from Vaes Dothrak to Meereen took more than two moons. Now, with the road laid stone by stone across the plains and mountains, a skilled rider could make the journey in half a moon. Caravans of carts rattled across it every day—loaded with wheat, cattle, silk, rubber, and goods too many to count. Naggo's task was simple: keep the way safe.
Ahead, his sharp eyes caught something off. A broken carriage sat crooked by the roadside, its wheel shattered and lying useless in the dust. The horses were gone—cut loose, likely bolted when the axle gave out.
Naggo slowed his mount, approaching with caution. A movement caught his eye—a hand waving from beneath a makeshift cloth. Three women sat beside the carriage. They were dressed in light silks that clung to their skin, faces painted in Yunkai fashion. Their breasts and nipples were visible as they did not bother to hide them with cloth. They were sex workers from Yunkai, going towards Vaes Dothrak. All three of them were beautiful. They had bodies worthy of fucking. It was not his first time seeing Yunkaian whores. So he recognised them easily.
One of them rose, brushing dirt from her skirts. "Rider! We've been stranded since morning. The wheel broke, and we cannot move the cart."
Naggo dismounted, tying his horse to the side of the carriage. He inspected the damage with a glance. "This will not carry you further. The wheel is done."
The second woman, older, crossed her arms. "So we wait here to roast in the sun? Or be robbed?"
He grunted. "Not robbed. The Grass Road is patrolled." He straightened, scanning the road. "But you cannot stay in the open. I'll help you put up a tent. Next cart that comes, you ask for a lift."
Between them, they set up a small canvas tent, stretched between the broken carriage and a post Naggo hammered into the ground. It gave shade, at least, and the women slumped inside with relief.
Naggo crouched by the fire-pit they made, striking sparks into dry grass. As flames caught, the women passed him a waterskin.
"So," he said finally, resting his arms on his knees. "Why come this way? Vaes Dothrak is no short ride."
The first woman, with hair black as night, smiled faintly. "Work. One of your representatives visited Yunkai last season. He spent coins at the gardens, enjoyed our company. When he returned, he sent word: come to his wedding. Dothraki weddings are… profitable."
The third woman, the youngest of the trio, laughed. "And wild. We've heard stories."
Naggo's mouth twisted into the ghost of a smile. "They are different now. Still wild, but different."
"How so?" the older one asked.
He leaned back, speaking as if reciting rules burned into his mind. "The Empress has set laws for us. We do not start fights anymore. If another raises a hand, we end it. No more raiding for sport. No more taking girls too young—only those grown, sixteen or more. And weddings…" He paused, shrugging. "They are no longer painted in blood. No killing. Instead—games, contests, races. And sex, yes. I am sure you will enjoy them a lot. But no deaths. The Empress says white flowers should mark a wedding, not red."
The women exchanged glances, murmuring. The youngest tilted her head. "Strange rules for horse lords."
Naggo's gaze hardened. "Strange, maybe. But they hold. Even the old men obey now. Khaleesi's word is stronger than blood."
For a while they were silent, listening to the crackle of fire and the distant sound of wheels rolling over stone somewhere far off on the road.
The older woman shifted, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. "Tell us, rider. This road—why so many carts? More than we saw a year ago."
Naggo drank from the waterskin, then passed it back. "Because the road feeds the empire. From Vaes Dothrak, we send wheat, barley, fruits, cattle. From Astapor, rubber, bricks, tiles, steel. Yunkai sends its workers, and its… pleasures." His glance at them made the younger giggle. "From Meereen come silks, perfumes, gold, wine. All of it rides this road. No Grass Road, no trade. No trade, no empire."
The first woman exhaled, thoughtful. "No wonder it is guarded. I thought we would be robbed the moment the wheel broke."
"Not here," Naggo said. "Not anymore."
The talk carried on as the sun dropped lower. The women told him of Yunkai's new life—of the gardens and casinos, of nobles from Volantis who paid dearly for nights in silk tents. They admitted work was not always easy, but it was better than chains. Better than the old masters.
Naggo listened, his face unreadable. In his heart, he carried the pride of a rider who had once known only war and raids. Now he rode a road of stone, guarding merchants and carts, enforcing laws not written in blood but in the voice of a silver-haired queen. It was a change he would never have believed, yet here he was, living it.
As the fire burned low, the first woman leaned close, her voice low and inviting. "You helped us, rider. We can thank you, if you wish. Spend the night with us." She spread her legs and slid her silk dress to the side to give him a view of her trimmed cunt. Naggo could see her wetness in the glow of the orange light from the Fire.
The others smiled knowingly.
But as much as he wanted to drop his pants and shoved his cock inside her cunt, he couldn't do that.
Naggo stood, brushing dirt from his trousers, his arakh glinting in the firelight. "No. I have duties. A patrol unfinished is dishonor. But—" He looked at them evenly. "If you wish to thank me, wait in Vaes Dothrak. When the wedding is done, wait a week more. My duty ends then. I'll return to the city for a six days' rest. If you still wish, we can speak then."
The women laughed softly, one shaking her head. "Disciplined man."
"Blood rider," Naggo corrected, mounting his horse. "The road does not guard itself."
He gave them one last look, then spurred his horse forward. The sound of hooves echoed on stone as he rode into the darkening horizon, the Grass Road stretching endless ahead of him.
…
Next chapter: The relaxation day of the Dragon Empress
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