GOT: The Great Khal — Chapter 142 - Sansa Is the Finest Gift for Me

The stench of charred flesh still hung over the Kingsroad.

Drogo reined his stallion to a halt. The black horse snorted. Behind him, five hundred Dothraki riders fanned out, arakhs swaying at their hips, copper bells chiming in their braids.

Ahead, a knot of broken soldiers was being driven out of the Kingswood.

One of them was a dwarf. A short sword at his hip. He stood by the roadside, panting hard.

His face was caked in dust and sweat, but his eyes didn't dart around the way the others' did.

He was looking at Drogo.

"Khal." A scout rode up. "We caught a few. The dwarf says he's an envoy from King's Landing."

Drogo said nothing.

He swung down from the saddle and walked toward the prisoners, step by step.

Three others stood beside the dwarf.

A man in leather armor, hand resting on his sword hilt, his gaze like an unsheathed blade. He was measuring the distance, calculating whether he could draw before Drogo reached him.

A young man, face flushed red, knees shaking.

And a woman. Light blue gown, the collar embroidered with white chiffon flowers. On this blackened, blood-soaked earth, she looked like a flower blooming in the wrong season.

Drogo stopped five paces out.

The man in leather armor moved. Fast as a serpent's tongue, his sword came out, blade flashing in the sunlight, driving straight for Drogo's throat.

Drogo didn't move.

His draw was at least twice as fast. The arakh sprang from his hip and came down in a gleaming arc.

A sharp clang split the air. The longsword snapped clean in two. The point sailed off and buried itself in the mud by the roadside. The hilt stayed in the leather-armored man's grip.

He looked at the broken blade. Then at the arakh. His throat worked once. He didn't move again.

Drogo watched him for a moment. He didn't finish it. He sheathed the arakh.

"Your name is Bronn."

Bronn neither confirmed nor denied it. He dropped the broken sword.

Drogo turned to the dwarf.

"Tyrion Lannister."

The dwarf rose from the ground and knocked the mud from his knees.

"At your service," Tyrion said. His voice was steadier than Drogo had expected. The sweat on his forehead told a different story.

Drogo's gaze settled on the girl for a moment. Red hair like a quiet flame in the afternoon sun.

"Sansa Stark?"

Her blue eyes were full of terror. She looked at Drogo, then at the Dothraki riders. Her lips trembled. She couldn't get a word out.

Tyrion spoke for her. "Indeed. Daughter of Eddard Stark, Warden of the North, and my lady wife."

Drogo turned back to his horse and mounted. The black stallion wheeled beneath him.

"All of you. With me."

Storm's End.

Drogo had seized the ancient castle and planted the Targaryen banner atop its highest tower, black field with a red dragon.

The great hall blazed with a hundred candles. Weathered antlers and shields lined the stone walls, relics of House Baratheon.

Drogo sat at the high seat. Daenerys was at his right hand. Missandei stood behind her, quiet and still, hands folded before her.

"Before you stands the sole Khal of the Great Grass Sea, Father of Dragons born of fire, Liberator of the Lhazareen, Master of Slaver's Bay, and Prince Consort to Queen Daenerys Targaryen of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros — Khal Drogo."

Missandei had barely finished when Bronn spoke. "This is the Hand of the King and Master of Coin, Tyrion Lannister."

Tyrion inclined his head in a slight bow. He was about to continue when Daenerys cut him off.

"Your brother Jaime Lannister," she said, her voice cold as a winter river, "was my father's Kingsguard, and yet he drove his sword through my father's back.

"Your Lannister army's Gregor Clegane raped and murdered my brother Rhaegar's wife, then slaughtered his two children. How dare you come asking to see us? I should have you executed."

Tyrion raised his chin. There was little fear on his face.

"I think you'd have to ask my brother Jaime about that," he said. "I was still a child when the Lannister army entered the Red Keep. Clearly, none of this had anything to do with me."

"And were the infant Rhaenys Targaryen and Aegon Targaryen involved in any of it?"

Tyrion went quiet.

A flicker of guilt passed through his eyes. And helplessness.

"Oh," he said. "It seems I've come all this way for nothing. Whatever I say, you're not withdrawing your armies."

"If it's justice you want, we can have Gregor Clegane bound and brought here for you to try. A commander often doesn't know what his soldiers have done. On a battlefield, you can't control every man."

"You came here to talk me into retreating?" Daenerys let out a cold laugh. "I was rather hoping to persuade that king of yours to crawl off the Iron Throne himself."

She glanced at Drogo. Her gaze softened for just a moment, then hardened back. The threat in her voice was undisguised.

"My sun-and-stars promised me the Iron Throne. If you don't step down willingly, when our armies reach its foot, your fate will be far worse than my family's ever was."

"My Dothraki don't care about noble blood. Becoming their spoils of war will make you wish you were dead."

Tyrion heard her out. If anything, he looked relieved. He spread his hands.

"It seems our conversation ends here, then."

"I'll head back to King's Landing and relay every word to that vicious boy sitting on the Iron Throne. Truth be told, I don't like him either. As for my dear sister Cersei, I've been looking forward to her downfall for a long time."

He pointed to the ugly scar across his face. "Her handiwork."

He waited a beat. Drogo and Daenerys said nothing. He carried on.

"Then I'll ask your pardon. I came without a gift. I'll see myself out."

When Drogo defied fate and led his people to land on the shores of Westeros, history had already bent off its old course. Much had changed.

Jaime had shed the white cloak of the Kingsguard and gone back to Casterly Rock as Warden of the West. He had even married a daughter of Walder Frey.

Joffrey hadn't been poisoned, so there was no trial for Tyrion, and no duel between the Red Viper Oberyn and the Mountain. Oberyn had died at Drogo's hand.

Tywin sentencing Tyrion to death was also a thing of the past.

And so, despite Cersei's repeated attempts on his life, Tyrion had dutifully become Master of Coin.

At this moment, Tyrion Lannister was still loyal to his family. That was not in question.

Tyrion Lannister turned and started for the door.

"Wait."

Drogo spoke. "You've already brought me the finest gift. The one I wanted most."

Tyrion stopped. He turned around, puzzled. His brow furrowed. His eyes shifted, working through it, getting nowhere.

Drogo didn't explain.

He leaned back in his chair and looked at Bronn. Bronn didn't know Drogo, but Drogo knew him well: a sellsword of low birth, with a blade few could match, sharp of mind and coldly pragmatic. After winning Tyrion's trial by combat at the Eyrie, he had become Tyrion's personal guard and right-hand man. He believed in the exchange of value and had never been shackled by loyalty.

Then his gaze moved to the other familiar face. Podrick Payne. Tyrion's loyal squire. The man had saved Tyrion's life at the Blackwater. As thanks, Tyrion had paid 3 whores to take his virginity. Afterward, all 3 returned the coin. Podrick had simply been that good. They had never experienced anything like it. That particular incident had earned him a title: the Mightiest Man in Westeros.

"Throw his two attendants in the dungeon," Drogo said in Dothraki to his bloodriders, then added in the Common Tongue, "and prepare a fine room for Lady Sansa Stark."

The bloodrider nodded and moved toward Bronn and Podrick.

Bronn's mouth twitched. He didn't resist. He knew what resistance meant. That broken sword was still lying in the mud on the Kingsroad.

Podrick's face went from red to white. His lips quivered.

"And you, little demon." Drogo looked down at Tyrion. "You're free to move about Storm's End. But you do not leave."

"Am I being kidnapped?" Tyrion's voice went up. "I'm an envoy sent from King's Landing. This violates every protocol. And you said you'd guarantee our safety."

"I am a barbarian," Drogo said. "And indeed, you will be very safe."

➤ Next: Sansa's Fragrant Kiss