It had all begun with a simple knife wound. Drogo had intended to ignore it, but could not resist Daenerys's concern. He allowed the maegi,
It had all begun with a simple knife wound. Drogo had intended to ignore it, but could not resist Daenerys's concern. He allowed the maegi, Mirri Maz Duur, to treat it—and ended up cursed by her blood magic, reduced to a lifeless shell.
Since then, the Khal had loathed witches who used magic. He had encountered Quaithe several times now, so he no longer feared her as he once had—but his killing intent remained sharp.
"The children of shadow may be untouchable," Drogo snarled, "but I, Drogo, do not fear curses. Damned Shadowbinder, taste the bite of Valyrian steel!"
"Valyrian steel," Quaithe murmured, her gaze falling upon the curved blade in his hand.
She seemed afraid of it. Rather than advancing, she took a step back.
While she stopped, Drogo advanced. He had no intention of letting this elusive witch continue to meddle from the shadows.
"You no longer have a shadow to hide behind," he growled. "You've appeared before me again and again with your ghostly tricks. Tonight, I end this!"
Quaithe's liquid eyes flickered. Her voice deepened with calm intensity. "Khal, I am not your enemy. I am your guide."
"Hah!" Drogo snorted. "Not my enemy? In the city of bones, your shadow nearly killed me! And don't lie to me again—my dragon didn't just burn your shadow. It burned your body too!"
That was undeniable truth. Yet Quaithe remained composed. "I've told you. My shadow had a will of its own. It could mimic my form using flesh gathered from others. The one who traveled with Pyat Pree was only my shadow."
She paused, then continued, "Think, Khal. I am but a mortal woman. If my body had truly been burned to nothing, how could I still be standing here?"
That explanation made sense. Otherwise, it would have been truly absurd. Drogo considered her words and stopped advancing.
"Whether you're an enemy or not can't be judged by words," he said coldly. "And I don't need someone with veiled motives to show me my path."
That was fair. As someone who had crossed over into this world from another, Drogo knew more than most. His path was already clear—he didn't need riddles.
Quaithe's tone shifted for the first time, now tinged with urgency. "Listen, Khal. The glass candles that lay dark for a hundred years now burn once more. Dead ghostgrass grows wild again. Phantom turtles whisper secrets. Rats gnaw off their own tails. The Eyeless now see. The fire ladder you saw conjured by the pyromancer was real magic. These signs mark the return of the dragons. Winter is coming. Magic has awakened."
In the novels, this mysterious woman had given Daenerys several prophecies—much like the Undying of Qarth—and many of them had come true.
Drogo did not wish to dismiss her, but he had one unavoidable question. "Daenerys is the Mother of Dragons. I mean no disrespect, but you've got the wrong person. My wife is the true heir of the dragons."
Quaithe remained silent for several long moments before answering. "You're right. But I believe you are the prince that was promised. And even if I am wrong, you are Daenerys Targaryen's husband. Choosing you or her makes little difference. Drogo, remember this—fire and blood share the same source. The true heir of the dragons might well be you."
Fire and Blood—the motto of House Targaryen. Drogo didn't fully grasp the deeper meaning of her words, but he had heard of the promised prince.
In the world of ice and fire, the Prince That Was Promised was a prophesied savior. Melisandre, the Red Priestess, believed he would lead the world in the fight against the White Walkers. At first, she thought it was Stannis Baratheon, but later, she turned to Jon Snow—who did ultimately lead the charge against the Night King.
"So you're a priestess or follower of R'hllor, the Lord of Light?" Drogo asked.
Quaithe did not answer directly. "When you reach Qarth, listen well to the truths spoken by the Undying. Remember my words: To go north, you must journey south. To reach the west, you must go east. To go forward, you must go back. To touch the light, you must pass through the shadow."
There was no need for her to explain what the shadow meant—Drogo already planned to go to Asshai, the Shadow Lands, one day to seek his father Balbo.
"Enough riddles," Drogo said with more force. "If you've something to say, speak plainly!"
Quaithe's eyes gleamed. Her voice grew solemn. "I've looked into the fire within the shadows—but I cannot see your future. You'll find the answers you seek only in Asshai. But remember this: All men must die. All men must serve."
With that, she turned and stirred the spring water, about to leave.
Drogo threw aside his arakh and lunged forward, grabbing hold of her sheer veil.
As the woman turned back, he tore off her mask in one swift motion. But he caught only a glimpse of her face before she slipped free with a rip of fabric and vanished from the bathhouse like the wind.
Her true face struck him—not some twisted creature of shadow and worms, but a classical, dragon-blooded beauty straight out of his former life. She was beautiful—deeply, hauntingly so.
Holding her crimson mask in one hand and a torn strip of veil in the other, Drogo inhaled the lingering fragrance and whispered with awe, "So beautiful…"
As he sank into the afterimage, her voice drifted back once more:
"Beware the Man of Regret."
The bathhouse fell quiet again. Drogo leaned back against the edge of the pool and began to sift through everything Quaithe had told him.
From what he understood, there were two true gods in the world of ice and fire:
One was R'hllor—the Lord of Light, the god of flame and life, of shadow and resurrection.
The other was the Great Other—the god of cold and darkness, of death and oblivion.
In the books and show, Beric Dondarrion and Thoros of Myr were followers of the Lord of Light. Thoros had used divine power to revive Beric multiple times.
Another devout follower, Melisandre, had resurrected Jon Snow. She saw visions in fire, could summon flame onto wood and steel, and read the future in smoke and embers.
Clearly, R'hllor's ancient enemy was the cold god. Their eternal struggle would determine the fate of humankind.
The cold god's miracles revealed themselves in Westeros—in the form of the White Walkers under the Night King. As that army prepared to march south, the followers of R'hllor spread their faith, guiding chosen heroes to stand against the darkness.
If gods who could perform miracles were real, then R'hllor and the Great Other were indeed true gods.
"Winter is coming"—that meant the White Walkers stirred. "Magic awakens"—that meant R'hllor was granting power to his chosen ones in preparation for the coming war.
To Drogo, Daenerys, Jon Snow, the dragons, and even he himself were pawns on R'hllor's board. He had already been marked by Quaithe as the prince that was promised.
Of course, the world held many gods.
The Seven, worshiped across Westeros.
The Drowned God of the Ironborn.
The Great Stallion of the Dothraki.
The Lamb God of the Lhazareen.
The Old Gods of the North.
The Many-Faced God of Braavos.
Some of these had shown real power—perhaps they, too, were real.
But with Daenerys pursuing the Iron Throne, Drogo could not avoid the divine games ahead. He didn't intend to. He was a conqueror, destined to shape the future.
He even believed that his rebirth had placed him beyond the sight of gods. Quaithe had said it herself:
"I've looked into the fire within shadow, but I cannot see your future. But remember: All men must die. All men must serve."
Those words carried a deeper truth: mortals were but pawns on the gods' board, bound to serve and worship them.
And to "pass through the shadow" to reach the light—Drogo believed it meant he would need to destroy the cold god's forces if he was to survive.
From what he had learned, the cold god stood for annihilation. The Lord of Light, for life and renewal. The former was evil. The latter, righteous.
But there was no such thing as absolute righteousness. Gods, no matter how mighty, viewed mortals as ants. Their favor was granted only when it served their own ends.
Still, Drogo believed: if he could help destroy the White Walkers, the true nature of these gods would one day be revealed.
The Father of Dragons made a silent vow:
"I have glimpsed much of this world's past and future. I will not be a puppet. One day, I will confront the gods themselves—and become the one who truly controls the game of thrones."
-
-
-
🐉 Dragon King of Ice and Fire
📢 Hear Me Roar, Lords and Ladies! 📢
Dragon King of Ice and Fire now has 30 chapters ahead available exclusively on Patreon! 🐉🔥❄️
Step into the realm of dragons, power, and destiny—early access awaits those brave enough to claim the throne. 👑⚔️
🔗 Join here: www.patreon.com/c/MrMagnus
👤 Patreon name: SrMagnus🐦 Follow on Twitter: https://x.com/SrMagnusBook
⚠️ Remember, I'll always post more chapters of the novel that gets the most Power Stones!