"Three."

"One."

"Two."

"One. And I'm being generous."

Kurt knew he would win. There was no way Sue Sylvester would refuse a dragon, something more valuable than all the armies of the world combined. Surely, she had to think he was mad. Now that he thought about it, there had always been some spark of madness running in the family – Sebastian was a proof of that. Every now and then, a Hummelsmythe turned out to be crazy, so obsessed with the belief of having the blood of the dragon to forget about everything else, family and realm included.

Maybe Kurt was crazy too, after all.

"I hate to agree, but you're right" the slaver woman said, an impossibly pleased grin plastered on her face. "A dragon, then. But the biggest one. Bring it to me, Porcelain, and the Unsullied are yours."

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Thirty minutes later, the dragon cage was being carried through the square on a little cartwheel, and Kurt was as nervous as he'd ever been. All ten thousand Unsullied seemed to be there now, clad in steel armors with long spears in hand. In the rear there were the boys still on training, some of them younger than Kurt himself. Among the ranks, the masters-at-arms with their black leather whips paced back and forth.

"Are you sure about this?" Blaine whispered in his ear as they walked. "Once you do it, everyone will know."

"I'm not" Kurt admitted, swallowing down his fear.

If I look back, I am lost.

He knew that he was tired, though; tired of hiding, of slipping through the cracks of life like a thief, like someone unworthy of trust and respect. He was worthy, of those things and many more. Power. Love. The way Sue Sylvester had treated him had woken something in him, some proud, egoistic part of himself that craved for him to be recognized as who he truly was in the eyes of Gods and men.

Wes and David drew the wheeled cage to a halt. The dragons shrieked from the inside. It was too late to go back.
He picked Drogon up from the cage, dragging him out of it with a thick iron chain attached to a wooden handle on one end, and wrapped around the black creature's neck on the other. His heart squeezed painfully in his chest at the thought of imposing such torture on one of his children. It squeezed even more when a beaming Sue Sylvester walked down the stone steps and snatched the chain from his hand eagerly, replacing it with a whip whose golden handle was shaped after the Harpy of Old Ghis.

She wasn't alone with her slaves this time; for the occasion, she had invited other noble Astapori slavers, most of them too fat to even stand from their chairs without someone helping them up. Their curious, awed eyes were all fixed on Drogon, who was flapping noisily in the air above, resisting the pull of Sue Sylvester's unwelcomed hands. He had grown up some more, so it was very difficult for her to drag him up the steps and go back to her chair.

"So they are mine now, right?" Kurt asked in the Common Tongue, staring at the whip he had in his palm, the symbol of his being the new master of the Unsullied. "The deal is done, isn't it?"

Sue Sylvester peered back over her shoulder to hear Quinn's translation, then looked back at Kurt, grunting with the exertion of keeping the dragon from flying away.

"Yes, yes, it's done, they're yours" she said dismissively, panting. "But you have to tell me how to give him orders, girl."

Kurt's hand closed in a tight grip around the whip's handle. He narrowed his eyes at the woman in front of him.

"A dragon is not a slave" he said in his best High Valyrian. Sue Sylvester gaped at him in shock, and he heard Quinn and the slavers gasp.

"You speak Valyrian?"

Kurt looked briefly toward Blaine, who gave him an encouraging nod, then up at Drogon, his shadow moving restlessly over the scorching hot sand, his angry shrieks echoed by those of his brothers in the cage.

My pride, my glory, he thought about all of them. They make me whole. They make me who I am.

When his eyes finally fell on the slaver once again, he wasn't scared anymore. He was excited.

"My name is Kurt Stormborn of House Hummelsmythe" he announced in the ancient, beautiful tongue of his ancestors. "I am the blood of Old Valyria. Valyrian is my mother tongue."

Before anyone could reply – even though they all looked too shocked to do that anyway – Kurt turned around and spoke up again, adrenaline pumping in his veins, a wicked smile on his face. It was time.

"Unsullied!" he called to his army, raising the whip in the air. "Slay every single master and slaver you see, kill any man who has a whip in hand but me, and break the chains of every slave you can find!"

He didn't even have to finish speaking before the madness began; a master-at-arms howled in pain when a spear broke through his chest from behind, and the Unsullied of the first row charged forward to reach the slavers sitting at the top of the steps, who were trying to stand up clumsily, their slaves trembling in corners or fleeing in fear.

Blaine and his bloodriders got there before the soldiers, joining the bloodbath. Blaine killed two slavers before they even got the chance to leave their chairs, slitting their throats with his arakh and smiling through it. Even though they were easy kills, Kurt knew it had been too long for him; too long away from the power Dothraki felt in taking people's lives. For the first time in his life, he understood that – not the joy they found in the practical act of killing, because he wasn't a violent person; but the rush of ruthless satisfaction that came afterwards.

Meanwhile, Quinn had wisely decided to run down the stair and reach the dragon cage, which was being opened by Finn.

"Stop this nonsense, you fucking idiots!" Sue Sylvester shouted as the first soldiers were almost reaching her, Drogon still struggling against her. "I am your mistress! Stop!"

Kurt turned on her and smiled.

"DRACARYS."

Drogon was the first to answer, but mere seconds later Rhaegal and Viserion joined him, proving to Kurt that they had grown up as much as their black brother had. Sue Sylvester was engulfed in a vortex of fire, her screams dulled and muffled by those of all the other slavers and masters and the deafening noise of steel on steel from where the city guards were fighting his Unsullied.

When the woman's blackened corpse fell to the ground, Kurt's dragons whirled around one another triumphantly in the smoky air and began flying in circles over the square, spreading flames of death.

Soon, incredibly soon, it was done. Dead men and women were scattered all around him, and Astapor was redder than before, but painted in a different shade. Justice.

The dragons found their way back inside their cage as if nothing had ever happened, and Blaine walked slowly down the stairs to reach Kurt's side, covered in blood and out of breath. It reminded Kurt of days long past, of desert winds blowing in his hair as he rode his silver mare, of lovemaking under the stars hidden by the tall green grass of the Dothraki Sea, of staring at three dead hard globes from half a world away hoping for the impossible. It reminded him of another life.

He took Blaine's sweaty hand and led him among the Unsullied, who were standing in rows again. It didn't look like many of them had died in the battle. Maybe none of them had.

The next words that tumbled out of his mouth were not planned, but they flowed easily as if they were, the simple, natural consequence of the thoughts that had been clouding his mind those last few days. Just like when he'd rushed into the fire to save the dragon eggs, it felt right, so he let himself be carried away with it.

"Unsullied!" he shouted. "You have been slaves all your lives. You are free now. Any man who wishes to go will not be harmed, I give you my word."

When none of them moved, any sliver of doubt he might have had vanished.

"Will you fight for me as free men? Will you die for me?" he asked.

It was almost impossible to hear at first; a dim, faraway sound that grew louder with every passing second. One spear, than two, ten, twenty, until at once ten thousand spears and more were hammering against the ground, making it tremble under their feet.

"Kurt," Blaine whispered, awed and reverent, "what did you tell them?"

Kurt threw the whip away and smiled at him, lulled by the sweet rhythm.

"I gave them back their freedom" he answered proudly. "And they gave me their lives in return."

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They got the news as soon as they got back to the ship. Rachel hugged Finn tightly and kissed him on the lips, Mercedes, Brittany and Santana crowded around Kurt to check if he was alright and welcomed Quinn warmly when they realized he was, and Tina stepped close to Blaine and blushed as she always did in his presence, wriggling her hands together behind her back.

"My Khal" Kurt heard her say reverently while Mercedes praised Quinn's hair and everyone around them cheered and celebrated. "I- I have a baby in my belly."

Blaine's breath itched, and his eyes shone brightly under the sun. For a moment, he looked as if he was about to cry.

"You- you're sure?" he whispered hoarsely, but in the silence that had suddenly fallen everyone could hear.

"Yes" Tina answered in a happy sigh, a beautiful smile on her face. "He is your son. He will be the Stallion That Mounts The World."

Kurt silently made his way toward Blaine, zigzagging among stunned Dothraki until he was at his side.

"My sun-and-stars" he whispered, taking his hand again. "You're having a baby."

He knew he was pointing out the obvious, but he had to make sure it was all true. How was it possible that they had it all? They had each other, three dragons, an invincible army at their complete disposal, and now a child. Westeros was still far away across the sea, but he had everything he needed to feel home.

"We are having a baby" Blaine corrected him, surrounding Kurt's waist with one of his arms. "I want you to be his father, too, moon of my life."

They celebrated all night long outside the walls of Astapor, guarded and protected by the Unsullied in case some powerful slaver decided to seek revenge for the trouble they had caused. To clear their path to the city gate, the soldiers had killed many more of them, but other slavers had remained safely hidden on top of their tall red pyramids, seething silently as slave after slave was being freed under their eyes. Some freedman had left the city on his own, Kurt knew, but most of them had decided to join his cause out of pure gratitude.

There were men suitable for fighting if well trained, but also women and little children, and the wounded from the crosses along the boulevard, who had been taken to the ships to be tended to. The healthier ex-slaves were celebrating with them, even though they looked slightly scared by the Dothraki concept of a celebration. Although the khalasar counted barely a thousand people, in fact, the Dothraki didn't spare the audience their gruesome spectacle of death. Two warriors died, which wasn't that much compared to Kurt and Blaine's wedding feast.

It looked the same for the most part, except everything was different. They were different. Blaine had grown into a passionate, supportive, loving partner, finding a perfect balance between his humanity and the brutality that ran in his blood, and Kurt... Kurt felt stronger. He was no longer the shy, fragile boy Sebastian had sold, just as Blaine was no longer the cruel khal he had been offered to. The Undying of Qarth had been right in something: in a way, he had died when the khalasar had burned down, and then was born again. He was a man now. Soon, a father.

That didn't stop him from dancing and drinking, though. The more wine he drank, the lighter he felt, and soon both him and Blaine were smiling like idiots, giddy on love and happiness. Tina couldn't drink, of course, but she danced with them in a circle, and at one point they raised their linked hands above their heads and let her pass underneath, laughing brightly.

"I'm so happy" she said loudly, to be heard over the beating drums.

When he felt slightly out of breath, Kurt left her to dance with Blaine and went over to his slaves, who were chatting animatedly in a corner. Rachel and Mercedes were telling Quinn all about their adventures since they had joined him, he discovered. The blonde girl was stunned by what she'd heard.

"You saw so many places" she said in awe when he reached them. "It will be amazing to be your slave, khalees."

Suddenly, Kurt remembered. There was still something he had to do. Thankfully, Santana and Brittany had disappeared in the night to go make out somewhere; he didn't want them to hear it. It was something he didn't have the power to give them.

"You won't be my slave" he said with a little smile. Quinn frowned, hurt written on her face.

"But... but you said-"

"None of you will be my slave" he clarified, to everyone's surprise. "None of you who have been bought, I mean. I'm freeing you."

They all stared at him in shock. Rachel raised a hand to cover her heart, her eyes filling with tears.

"Oh Gods" she whispered, almost choking back a sob. "I- can I hug you? I'm sorry, it's inappropriate, but I-"

"Come here" Kurt told her, opening his arms.

She crashed into him with a heartfelt laugh, but when she pressed her face against his neck, Kurt felt her tears falling. He stroked her back soothingly, until she raised her head again and smiled.

"I thought I would be a slave forever" she confessed in a thin voice. "I thought I would never be able to marry, to have a family, to- to be the person I wanted to be. Not that I didn't like serving you, khalees, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"Rachel, it's okay" Kurt said to interrupt her rambling, raising a hand. "I understand. And I would love for you to stay with us anyway - all of you, of course. But you're free. Free to stay, free to leave. Free to make your own decisions."

The three girls looked at one another with smiles on their faces, overwhelmed by all the possibilities suddenly open for them. Rachel was the first to speak.

"I'm staying" she said, bouncing on her feet. "I love Finn. I could never leave him."

Kurt had expected that much, so he just smiled knowingly.

"I'm staying, too" Quinn announced after a brief pause. "I have nowhere to go, and I want to live some adventures myself!"

They all laughed at that, but then Mercedes' face grew serious.

"I- I think I'll leave" she whispered, sadness etched into her voice and features. "I want... I want to go home, to the Summer Isles. Maybe my mom is still there, and I could find out who bought her and earn some money to buy her freedom. I- I owe it to her. To try."

Kurt couldn't suppress the tear that escaped one of his eyes at that. He knew some of them would probably leave, but he wasn't prepared for the sadness that would provoke. Somehow, in a strange, twisted way, they had been their family. They had been there for him, back when he didn't know how to talk to Blaine, when he felt betrayed and lonely. They had washed him and dressed him and had cooked for him, but it had been more than that; they all knew it.

"I hope you'll find her" Kurt told her, enveloping her in a hug.

It felt weird to do that – to hug them. They had always been so distant, respecting an invisible physical barrier as a sign of how inferior their statuses were. It felt nice, too.

He went back to Blaine, who was catching his breath sitting cross-legged on the sand. He was sweaty, and the orange light of the torches made his skin glow. Black curls were sticking to his forehead, and his black makeup was smudged around his eyes. His tattoos rippled and shifted along his muscles every time he heaved a breath. He was so dangerously beautiful, like the first time Kurt had seen him, back at Sandy's palace.

"I saw you talking with your slaves" he said when Kurt sat next to him. "Did you do it, then?"

Kurt nodded, staring at the few Dothraki who still had the strength to dance. Most of them had left the rounded space to find secluded places to fuck, he was sure of it. If he concentrated long enough, he could hear them in the distance.

"Quinn and Rachel are staying. Mercedes is leaving" he added.

Blaine draped an arm across his shoulders and pulled him closer to press a soft kiss against his temple, but he said nothing. He didn't need to.

"How should we name the baby?" he asked after a while. Kurt had started to drift off with his head against Blaine's shoulder, but the question made him sit up excitingly.

"I don't know" he admitted. "Do you have some ideas?"
Blaine smiled down at him and nodded.

"Elizabeth, if it's a girl."

Kurt's eyes filled with tears once again. An idea occurred to him, and without thinking twice he knew it was the right thing.

"Cooper, if it's a boy."

Blaine kissed him hard then, carding his fingers through Kurt's hair to pull him closer, and before Kurt realized it he was hauled into Blaine's lap, kissing him, rocking against him languidly.

They made love under the open sky, like that night when Kurt had claimed Blaine as his own for the first time.

Kurt didn't know what came next – another city, or another expanse of deep blue water if they found more ships to carry the Unsullied and the freedmen of Astapor along with them. But for a night, it didn't matter. It never mattered, when they were together. They stopped being a khal and a khalees, a horselord and a dragonlord, a Dothraki and a Hummelsmythe. They were only Kurt and Blaine.

Life was easier. And love was enough.