- Date - 299 AC -
- Location - Outskirts of Vaes Dothrak -
A pyre made of gnarled wood and a flammable mix of dry grass and bark shavings stood ready. Beneath it lay the body of a man with prominent scars and long hair. Standing beside the pyre was a platinum-haired woman, no older than seventeen. Tears marked her porcelain face as a man nearing six feet tall, covered head to toe in malleable chainmail, approached from behind. His deep voice echoed in the woman's mind as he repeated his sentence.
"Khaleesi, we must move. We can no longer stay here without inviting the ire of the other Dothraki khals."
Receiving no response, the man moved forward to grab the girl, but an arakh swung in front of his neck. A voice, this time in broken Common, spoke out.
"Stand away, Mormont."
Jorah, seeing the bloodrider's arakh near his throat, took a step back, moving away from the Khaleesi, who ignored all the noise behind her. In her hands she held three dragon eggs — one black, one green, and one gold. Abhorrent screeches rang out as a woman, covered in muck, manure, and other filth, was carried on a wooden beam toward the pyre.
A torrent of insults spilled from her mouth, ranging from common slurs against the Dothraki to blasphemies against the Khaleesi. With her final insult, the cold look from the Khaleesi sent a wave of fear through her as the girl, frozen in place, spoke.
"You killed him... and for that, you shall burn."
With the end of her sentence, Jorah once again spoke into Daenerys's ear.
"Daenerys Stormborn — you cannot throw your life away for some savage!"
At that, multiple arakhs were pointed toward Jorah as the remaining Dothraki grew enraged at the foreigner's disrespect toward their former Khal Drogo and their newly anointed Khaleesi.
Dany, having heard Mormont's insult to her dead husband, spun and glared daggers at him. Realizing he had placed his neck on the line, Jorah gave an apologetic bow before slowly retreating. Dany turned to the pyre as the sky began to dull and the sun faded over the horizon. She placed the dragon eggs around the bed where Drogo — her lover, husband, and father of her now-dead child — lay. Overwhelming pain and loss broke her resolve for a moment before anger returned.
Jorah watched in growing dread. His mission to watch over the remaining Targaryens had already led to one being crowned in molten gold, and now the other stood before him, ready to burn alongside her dead husband. As night settled over the wastelands of Essos, a group of Dothraki, along with two foreigners, stood surrounding the pyre as the beam bearing the condemned woman was set aflame first.
As if signalling a beginning anew, Dany gave a nod to a bloodrider standing near the pyre. He lit the wood and grass, which erupted in flames like gasoline poured onto fire. As the fire spread, muffled screams of pain came from the woman as the flames licked at her clothes. Dany watched with a faint curl at her lips before stepping forward into the fire that now engulfed the pyre where Drogo lay. Holding all three dragon eggs — each heavy in her hands — Dany stepped, one foot at a time, into the roaring inferno as if challenging the gods themselves.
Jorah Mormont, standing aside, watched in awe and horror as Daenerys walked into the blaze without a flicker of pain or fear.
- Location - The Warp -
- Date - Unknown -
Naz watched through the rift as the endless swirl of colours began to consume the facility housing twenty tanks of near-identical make. The only difference between them were the Roman numerals etched at the top and bottom, ranging from I to XXI. The sight reignited something deep within Naz — memories began to trickle back. He focused on the feeling at the back of his mind and saw stories: tales of the Primarchs and their scattering into the Warp, each cast onto their own secluded worlds (save for Alpharious and Omegon).
The realization struck him — his reincarnation as a Primarch. Curiosity swelled as Naz reached out through the rift, trying to move his body to see which marking adorned his pod.
As if in answer, his vision shifted upward. There, engraved clearly, was the numeral II. Realization rushed through him — words like "Forgotten," "Banished," "Purged" echoed in his mind. Cold dread washed over him as fear began to fester in the corners of his consciousness.
"Shit."It was the only word that escaped his mouth as the facility's deterioration hastened. Large circles appeared around each pod as chunks of the structure were flung into the Warp currents. Panic gripped Naz — how was M.I.C.H., his supposed guardian system, meant to get his tank, or what remained of it, to the world of A Game of Thrones?
As if a god were listening, a new prompt appeared:
- Dear Naz,Due to the unfavourable conditions surrounding your physical body and the potential hazards of re-entry to a planet like "AGOT," your body shall be aged to a state suitable for planetary descent without armour or damage to body and soul. -
Naz stared at the message as a sudden feeling of weightlessness overtook him. From his void, he watched as a hand covered in black, obsidian-like scales emerged from the Warp. The hand, once a speck compared to the facility, grew rapidly, ripping apart the structure around Naz's tank. Through the cracks between its massive fingers, Naz barely glimpsed as the rest of the facility — and his brothers' pods — were torn apart.
Chunks of metal and stone fell into the Warp currents. The once-sturdy complex crumbled as the glowing circles beneath each pod vanished, the roof and floor collapsing into a gaping void. One by one, the other tanks disappeared — all except Nazareth's, now held firmly in the obsidian hand. He wondered why this enormous, two-kilometre-wide hand had chosen his pod.
As if mocking him, the hand suddenly jerked, flinging Nazareth's pod and a section of the facility into the Warp stream. He watched in horror as his body began to change — growing rapidly, filling the tank. Metal screeched, glass cracked, and the container exploded outward.
What replaced it was a boy — perhaps fourteen or fifteen — with long, platinum-white hair cascading from head to heel. His most striking feature was not his hair or burning red-obsidian eyes, but his sheer size — over 2.5 meters in length. As his body's rapid development slowed, Naz's mind buckled under the shock before his remaining sanity forced him to adapt.
The hand that once covered the facility began to shrink until it vanished with a soft pop, replaced by a new tear. Through it, a solar system appeared — six planets orbiting a sun, one of the planets gigantic, Saturn-sized, surrounded by asteroids and a moon equal to Earth in size. The facility hurtled toward the tear as the Warp currents seemed to reject its presence.
As Naz's descent accelerated, he glimpsed continents through the storm — the familiar outlines of Westeros, Essos, and Sothoryos. The remains of the facility disintegrated as gravity pulled him downward, the wastes of Essos filling his view.
- Date - 299 AC -
- Location - The Dothraki Sea -
Jorah Mormont stood in silence as the sun broke over the horizon, signalling the start of a new day. A soft sigh escaped his lips as he looked at the pile of ash — a small, desperate wish for Daenerys to appear flickered in his heart. Then, the pile moved.
As Jorah approached, the surrounding Dothraki — mostly women and children, with a few bloodriders — stared at him like he was mad. Before anyone could speak, a thunderous boom filled the air. An asteroid streaked across the sky, leaving trails of red, blue, green, purple, and gold that painted the heavens like a rainbow.
Jorah looked up in awe as the comet arced and turned, growing brighter and brighter until it was blinding. The Dothraki turned away, shielding their eyes. Behind them, the ash shifted again.
- Date - 299 AC -
- Location - Above the Dothraki Sea -
Naz watched the wasteland of sand draw closer. The massive facility that had followed him through the Warp disintegrated, burning up in the atmosphere. Awe and fear filled him as the coastline grew clearer in his view.
His prison of endless white began to fade, revealing corners — a sign that reality was returning. Panic set in as the sound of jet engines roared in his ears. Reflexively, Naz cupped them — this time with pale, translucent hands. Everything shrank and pulled until, for the first time in a year, he felt the ground beneath him. Tears welled in his eyes as the sensation of touch returned.
- Location - The Pyre of Khal Drogo -
Jorah Mormont looked up and began to run. Whatever was falling from the sky, he wanted no part of it. The remaining Dothraki followed his lead, sprinting for cover beneath a stone arch that jutted toward the heavens. They crouched behind it, facing away from the incoming comet.
The light grew so bright it outshone the sun. The sand turned white-hot; shadows deepened into black. A faint, desperate roar came from beyond the arch. Jorah risked a glance and saw a woman — Daenerys — standing amid the blinding light, three dragon heads perched around her, all watching the comet's descent.
Naz's body spun through the air as pieces of metal and stone flew away, leaving only him — falling. To his surprise, there was no burning, no pain. With each rotation, he caught glimpses of the woman below: platinum hair, three small dragons — one gold, one brown, one black. They all roared in defiance and fear as the burning man fell toward them.
With a thunderous boom, the ground shook and a towering dust cloud rose into the sky. The rainbow light faded, replaced by a dusky mushroom cloud. Jorah, clutching the earth, prayed to the Seven as a wave of dust and heat swept over the land.
When the tremors ceased, he finally looked up — and froze.
Two figures stood at the centre of the ruin. One was Daenerys, surrounded by her dragons.The other was a man towering over her — at least two and a half meters tall.
Shock overwhelmed Jorah as both stared into one another.
(AN: Hi everyone, Its me again, Did you like this chapter? if so please leave a comment! If so then thank you and em... see you tomorrow maybe idk. )