Kurt stared at Chandler with a mixture of rage and disbelief in his eyes.

"What do you mean, we have to leave?" he asked, arms crossed over his chest in outrage.

The merchant prince had summoned Blaine too, together with Finn and the khal's bloodriders, saying there was something very important they needed to hear, so they were all crowding Kurt and Blaine's bedchamber. Blaine was currently perched against the pillar of an arched stone window, one eyebrow raised toward Chandler as if looking at a fly he wanted to crash under his foot. He was more on edge after what had happened in the House of the Undying, nerves thin and patience ready to burst at any moment, so Kurt had taken control of the conversation immediately after Chandler's announcement. But apparently, his patience wasn't strong enough either.
Chandler was lucky his dragons were sound asleep in a corner.

"I'm really, really sorry, khalees" the merchant prince replied apologetically, his eyes moist and pleading. "I tried to convince them, but the Thirteen want you and your dragons away from Qarth after what you and your khal did."

Blaine almost jumped from his position against the pillar.

"How dare you?" he shouted at Chandler, whose eyes grew as big as one of his water fountains.

"What we did?" Kurt joined in angrily, diplomacy forgotten. "They chained my husband to a fucking wall and wanted to drink my blood! They wanted my dragons for themselves!"

Chandler seemed to shrink back from his yelling, as if worried that Kurt himself was going to spit fire. Kurt sort of wished he could.

"I- I told you not to go, I told you they were evil" he dared all the same. "But they were also the most powerful warlocks in the city. Their predictions have been helping Qarth prosper for years, keeping it safe from wars and sackings. The Thirteen threaten to summon the Sorrowful Men if you refuse to leave as soon as possible."

The Sorrowful Men were a sect of skilled huntsmen, whose name came from their habit of saying "I'm sorry" to their designated victims before killing them.

"No one can threaten a khal or a khalees and hope to live for long after" Blaine stated. "One command to my bloodriders and I'll have their throats cut while they sleep."

Wes and David smirked knowingly at each other, hands stroking the hilts of their arakhs like a man would do with a lover's hand, while Finn just looked uncomfortable as most of the time. As much as Kurt would have liked what Blaine had threatened, though, he knew they would be doomed if that happened.

"You convinced me to come here in the first place" he said to Chandler, trying to lighten the mood. "You said you would protect me and give me what I needed. Do it now."

"I can't make them change their minds, I-"

"I'm not asking you that" Kurt interrupted, raising a hand. "I want you to go back to them and speak in my stead. Tell them we'll leave, if they provide us ships to carry us all or the gold required to buy them."

Chandler blinked in surprise.

"Why would they do that?" he asked.

"Because my dragons will burn this city to the ground if they don't."

Kurt thought the prince would buy it, but apparently he had underestimated him.

"Khalees, with all due respect..." he started slowly, carefully. "It seems to me they are still too small for that."

Kurt grinned.

"They are" he agreed. "But the Thirteen don't need to know it. All they know is that one of them has already burned someone to death. All I ask of you is a lie, Chandler Choan Dachos. A lie for the gold you promised me."

No living man had ever seen a dragon before, so no one could know with a certainty at what age dragons began to actually spit fire. They might have books about them, but Kurt didn't think they were going to risk their precious city basing themselves on a worn piece of paper.

Chandler stared at him thoughtfully, and Kurt could almost hear the silent plea in his eyes.

Stay, they seemed to scream in the silence. Marry me.

"The moon of my life is waiting for an answer" Blaine urged. Chandler looked at him briefly before turning to Kurt again.

"I'll do it" he announced.

When he left the room, his head bowed in surrender, the others remained at Kurt's request.

"There is still one thing we need to settle" he said to the men standing in front of him. "Where to go."

"You always talked about Pentos" Blaine reminded him, scrunching his face in confusion. Kurt knew Dothraki didn't bother that much with geography, so they basically didn't know where they were at the moment, and frankly, they were so far east that Kurt himself would need a map to find his bearings again. What he knew was that it would be a long, long voyage.

Unexpectedly, Finn joined in the conversation. It wasn't the first time he gave Kurt advice, but it hadn't happened in a while.

"We should go to Astapor" he put in, much to everyone else's surprise. Wes and David turned to look at him curiously.

"Astapor?" Kurt inquired, taken aback by the suggestion.

Astapor was an old Ghiscari city in Slaver's Bay, between the Jade Sea on the east and what remained of Valyria on the west. Beyond Valyria, there were the Summer Isles with their black-skinned men clothed in multicolored feathered cloaks and then, across the narrow sea, Westeros. Home.

The point, though, was that the cities of Slaver's Bay were all ruled by slavers, just like the name suggested. Dothraki made slaves of those who survived their sackings; they saw it as a sign of superiority toward the defeated, who had to serve them for the rest of their lives to pay for their shame. The selling and buying of human lives was an entirely different matter, one Kurt despised with all his heart, especially after experiencing what it felt like to be sold. He had grown fond of Rachel and Mercedes and Brittany, of Santana, even, and he couldn't picture himself without them; but deep down, he still felt sorry for them.

"We need men" Finn replied simply, too much for Kurt's liking.

"Are you suggesting we should buy them?" he asked, shocked. He hadn't expected it from Finn. "Might as well hire sellswords, then."

"Sellswords are disloyal" Finn argued, shaking his head. "They fight for gold, which means that anyone can buy them from you without you knowing it."

Kurt still didn't see what he was aiming at.

"How are slaves any different?" he asked, genuinely curious now. "If we go back to Pentos, maybe people from Westeros will come to me and ask to fight for me on their own. My father was well loved, you said so yourself."

Even as he said it, he knew he couldn't be that sure. Meanwhile, Blaine and his bloodriders were staring at their exchange in silence, probably more confused than Kurt was.

"Even so, we would never be sure of their loyalty. They could always be spies" Finn said. "We need more than that. We need an army, like the one we had before the fire. We need the Unsullied."

"The Unsullied?"

Finn nodded.

"They say they are the deadliest army in the world. They don't know what fear is. The only thing they know is how to obey."

Kurt considered that for a moment, cocking his head to the side. Then he glanced at Blaine, who seemed to be lost in thought as well.

"What do you think, my-sun-and-stars?" he asked him.

"I think I want to see these men with my own eyes" Blaine replied with a wicked grin on his face. "Then we'll see if they really don't know what fear is."

Kurt couldn't help but chuckle at that, in spite of the importance of the decision he had to make.

So proud, so beautiful, so mine, he thought.

"But... they are slaves as well, aren't they?" he felt the need to ask Finn.

"Yes, but skilled in the art of spear and sword" the knight replied, frowning slightly. "Khalees, I know the thought unsettles you, but I really think it is our best option, otherwise I wouldn't have brought it up."

Kurt smiled at him warmly. He knew Finn always meant good with his words.

"And I thank you for your counsel, Finn. I think it's best for us to take some time to decide, since we have to wait for the Thirteen's response. You three can leave us now."

Finn, Wes and David half-bowed and left the room, leaving Kurt alone with his husband.

"All this talking has made me hungry" Blaine complained. "Let's just hope the bullshit prince will let us have lunch one more time before kicking us out."

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As it turned out, the Thirteen agreed, going as far as saying that they wished Kurt would remember their courtesy once he had his throne back. They gave him four beautiful painted galleys, slender and swift over the water, and as he said his goodbyes Chandler offered to stuff them with food and gold from his own stores as a gift to wish them luck. However, Kurt could feel his eyes on him while the merchant prince spoke, and he realized it was a gift to him, to prove him what he felt one last time. If it was truly love, Kurt would never know, but he wasn't in the position of refusing a sincere gift, whatever the reason behind it, so he hadn't.

The night before the departure for Astapor - because eventually they had decided to go and see what Finn was talking about -, Blaine made love to him in the slowest way he'd ever done, dragging it out as if he didn't want it to stop, ever. Kurt didn't, either.

After the Undying and his subsequent outburst, Blaine had been having nightmares; he woke up screaming or crying or both, the sheets twisted around his legs while his ragged breaths came back to normal, and Kurt held him until he fell asleep again. It happened many times during the same night, which meant that they slept very little, and the daily preparations for their upcoming new trip were exhausting. Sex had been out of the question, again.

So when that last night Blaine was spooning him, his front pressed against Kurt's back, Kurt had thought they were going to sleep to be prepared for the day after. Instead, Blaine had whispered in his ear, "Need you."

So there they were, Blaine kneeling in the middle of their oversized bed - theirs, even if for one more night only - with Kurt in his lap, back once again flush against the khal's muscular chest. They had never done it like that, not face to face but still so close, intertwined like two vines reaching up to look for the last ray of sunshine on the earth.

Blaine was holding him by the hips as he pumped upwards inside of him, one hand sneaking up once in a while to brush against a nipple as his lips kissed Kurt's ear and neck and shoulder, and the only thing Kurt could do was weave his fingers in Blaine's hair from either side of his head and angle his face so they could kiss properly, Blaine's tongue dipping into his mouth to mirror what their hips were doing, and it was sweet and torturously slow and erotic all the same, little moans escaping their mouths as their tongues dueled lazily between them.

"I can't believe it's been so long" Blaine whispered hoarsely in his ear, looking at their reflection in the full-length mirror beside the bed, where they looked so beautiful together that it took Kurt's breath away when he saw it. "I missed being inside you."

"I missed it, too" Kurt agreed in a blissed out sigh, keening when he felt Blaine hit just right deep inside. "Yes, Blaine, there."

Blaine groaned against his neck and thrust up at the same angle while simultaneously keeping Kurt down by his hipbones, causing him to moan openly and throw his head back over Blaine's shoulder.

"Like that?" Blaine asked teasingly, nibbling at his earlob. His hands came down to scratch at the inside of Kurt's pale thighs, so close to where he really needed them but not close enough, and Kurt was loving every second of it.

"Yes, yes, there" he whimpered. "Love you so fucking much, Blaine."

He could feel Blaine's breath hitch against the shoulder he was mouthing at.

"Love you, too" he said in a ragged voice, the rhythm of his hips increasing by the second, punctuated by sharp little grunts coming from deep in his throat. "Always."

It felt like hours before it became too much for the both of them, and even after that they still clutched at each other and kissed passionately, lying face to face, side to side, heart to heart, until Kurt's lips felt chafed and raw and then some more, until they fell asleep tangled into one another.

Blaine didn't have nightmares that night.

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"No. Fucking. Way."

"Tana, come on, it's just water."

"When you figure out a way to drink it, give me a call, then."

"The fact that you can't drink it doesn't mean it's not water!"

"The sun was made to give heat and the wind was made to blow and water was made to be drunk. Unless your God of the Stew taught you differently?"

Kurt rolled his eyes at the exchange, eyeing the two slaves who were making their way on the plank that led on the deck of Balerion. The Thirteen had given him freedom to name the ships as he pleased, keeping their old names or giving them new ones, with the exception of the Qartheen Pride. Just for the pleasure of humiliating them secretly, Kurt had decided to use that ship to carry the horses and those who had to tend to them, turning it into a big floating stable that stank of horse dung and hay.

"Santana, don't be mean to Brittany" he told the dark-skinned girl. "She just wants to help."

Santana narrowed her eyes at him as if she wanted to strangle him. Kurt still loved how fierce and proud she could be, even though sometimes it was borderline disrespectful. Any other master would have punished her by now, but to him it was just sort of endearing to look at.

"She could help me get off this sorcery" the Dothraki girl replied, the stubbornness in her expression masking how scared she was, as Brittany dragged her on deck by her hand.

"It's not sorcery, I promise" Kurt tried to reassure her. "It's safe."

Santana swayed slightly as soon as her feet made contact with the wood underneath them, baffled by the simple fact that she was standing over something that floated. She clang to Brittany's upper arm with both of her hands until her body seemed to relax and her shaking breath came back to normal. Kurt followed them with his eyes until they were out of sight, smiling to himself.

The next to come on deck was Tina, shy, blushing Tina with her head always down to look at her feet, a stark, unbelievable contrast with how wild she was in the bedchamber. Kurt tried not to blush when he got sight of her, remembering the night in the tent. She was keeping track of her moon blood, he knew, since Blaine had decided to take her as his only sex slave to bear his child after Kurt had said he liked her; an act to involve Kurt in the matter, to let him know that his opinion was important, too, even though the child would be Blaine's heir as a Khal rather than Kurt's as a king.

The slave smiled at him sweetly, her narrow, almond-shaped eyes crinkling at the corners, and Kurt smiled back. Just as she was disappearing below deck to join the other slaves in their cramped little cabin, Blaine stepped up next to him.

Much to Kurt's surprise, he hadn't made that big of a deal when he had gotten on the ship, but Kurt suspected it had something to do with the rest of the khalasar looking at him from ashore, waiting for their leader to show them they were going to be fine. Blaine was great at feigning confidence, after all, which meant he could as well be terrified and Kurt nor anyone would never know it.

"I was thinking I could call for Tina tonight" Blaine said hesitantly, as if bracing himself for an objection. "If... if that's okay with you, moon of my life."

"You know it is" Kurt replied, putting a hand on Blaine's shoulder reassuringly. "With all that's happened, I'm sure it's been a long time, just as it had been with us."

Blaine frowned, as if something that Kurt had said didn't sound right.

"You don't think I've been fucking her while you and me weren't doing it, do you? Because I haven't, I promise."

"I know, my-sun-and-stars" Kurt said, smiling at his husband. "It's okay."

Blaine nodded and remained silent, watching the shuffling of Dothraki coming up the plank to join them on the ship.

The harbor of Qarth was noisy and crowded, ships coming and going without pause as Kurt and Blaine's little fleet slowly got ready to leave, even though dawn had broke only a few hours before. The sky was shifting from pink to blue and the water underneath them shimmered of a different color every time sunlight rippled on its quiet, lulling waves, whose noise was covered by the shouts of fishermen announcing the catch of the day and sailors greeting other sailors or yelling orders at their crews.

It was different from the city's narrow streets, crowded with lazy nobles being carried on fancy litters; here, men were rougher and louder, speaking in a hundred different tongues – some of them completely unknown to Kurt, others easily recognizable as bastard versions of his High Valyrian, the tongues of the empire's old colonies. There were Tyroshi men, with their hair and multi-pointed beards dyed blue or green or purple; black-skinned Summer Islanders; Volantenese with their obedient slaves, who had the symbol of their field of work tattooed all over their faces; people from Myr, Lys, Braavos, but not Westeros, or at least Kurt didn't hear anyone speaking in the Common Tongue. Few ships sailed from the Seven Kingdoms all the way to the Jade Sea, after all; the voyage was extremely long and dangerous, due to storms and pirates, and there was nothing in Qarth they could not find in closer cities. Well, except for dragons.

Kurt had brought them aboard first thing in the morning, their wooden cage – not as useful as it was before, since they could burn it – hidden under a cloth, but they had shrieked, and loud. Many people had turned around, wondering what kind of exotic animal he was transporting, but some had stared at him long and hard, and Kurt knew at once that the news of the Undying's fall had spread, together with the cause of it, most likely. But since the day when Drogon had killed them, he had realized he was starting to care less and less of people finding out about them. Maybe they should know, so they could fear him.

"You know I am the first one to do this?" Blaine asked suddenly, as a little boy rolled a barrel on the deck.

Kurt almost jumped up at the sound of his voice.

"What?" he inquired, sneaking an arm around Blaine's waist. Blaine responded in kind, draping one of his over Kurt's shoulders.

"To cross the poisonous sea. The first khal, I mean."

"I know" Kurt said proudly, squeezing around Blaine's hips. "Dothraki will remember you forever for this."

Blaine pursed his lips in thought, his eyebrows knitting together.

"Or curse me" he argued. "Khal Blaine, the Drowned Khal."

Kurt couldn't help but laugh, even though Blaine sounded entirely serious. He led his husband to the parapet, facing away from the harbor they were going to leave and never see again, and they both leaned on it with their elbows, looking down at the sea. Kurt heard Blaine draw a nervous breath.

"One of the Seven Kingdoms worships the sea" he told him then, eyes fixed on the clear deep water below. "Their God is called the Drowned God, and he lives in a watery hall in the abysses. When a man of the Iron Islands dies, the ironborn throw him into the water so he can join him."

Sebastian had been many awful things as a brother, but no one could say he hadn't been thorough as a history teacher. Blaine shivered and turned to give Kurt a skeptical look.

"Is this supposed to make me feel better?" he asked in disbelief. Kurt shrugged.

"I guess. I just wanted you to understand that it's not all black and white. The same thing you fear, is loved and worshiped by others. Who knows... maybe Dothraki will come to love it too."

Blaine ignored the last part of his statement, narrowing his eyes.

"I don't fear anything" he pointed out, turning to look at the sea again as if to get his point across.

"Of course you don't" Kurt said, smirking.