In the end, they had to leave the ships behind. It was a pity after all the efforts Kurt had made to find a way to have them, but they weren't going to find more of them anytime soon. The slavers of Astapor were too scared of the dragons to actively do something against him, but Gods knew how, they had managed to block the trade so that no other ship could come into the city's harbor. Their stores were full of food, after all, so they could live at least a couple of years without more coming in. Kurt didn't have all that time. His dragons still had to grow, that was true, but wasting the next few years by landing a siege to the Red City was not in his plans.

And so they left; their little khalasar, the Unsullied, and hundreds of freedmen slowly marching behind them, hoping for a better tomorrow. Soon, though, Kurt realized that by freeing them, he had made himself responsible for their lives, which meant he had to feed them and take care of them. Pictures of Dothraki dying in the desert flashed before his eyes as they marched; the children whispering in the night to ask their moms for food they didn't have; Blaine's stomach grumbling when he thought no one would hear it. The food they were carrying in the ships and now in cartwheels was not going to be enough for all of them, and Chandler's remaining gold could buy more, but they needed someone to buy it from.

Following the coast, which stood to their left, the next city was Yunkai, famous for its bedslaves trained in the art of the Seven Sighs. Marching north from Astapor, there was no avoiding it: high, steep mountains loomed above them to their right, squeezing them between their peaks and the sea of Slaver's Bay. To continue their journey, they would need the Wise Masters' leave, or otherwise take their so called Yellow City.

They found out about the Yunkish slavers' inclination soon enough. Before they could even get a glimpse of the city, they found their path blocked by an expanse of military camps, spread before them so as to stand in the way of anyone trying to get to Yunkai from the south. It could be a general precaution of the Wise Masters, but Kurt doubted it; between Astapor and Yunkai there was a constant stream of slavetrade, so it was unlikely that the thousands of sellswords camping in the pass were there all the time. They were there because the news had spread.

Was it going to be like that all the time now? Was everything going to be tougher to accomplish now that dragons were no longer the tale of some drunkard sailor?

If that was so, he might as well show them off a bit.

That was why, when they decided to camp as well, Kurt settled himself under a huge white tent with one side left completely open, Blaine sitting by his side and the dragons crawling freely around their massive carved wood chairs, or better their small-sized poor-looking thrones – depending on the way you looked at it. Be that as it may, they made a beautiful sight, two kings in their little court.

Kurt wanted the sellswords to come to them instead of the other way around; them, or maybe an envoy from the city, sent to threaten them or offer them a deal of some sort to let them pass unharmed. After three days of waiting, both things happened.

The first to arrive was the envoy; a handsome man clad in yellow silk who looked way too pleased with himself for Kurt's liking, a coy smirk plastered to his face as six dark-skinned slaves lowered his huge palanquin to the ground. It looked like it could host ten people comfortably. The envoy stepped down from it while his slaves recovered from the effort, red marks evident on their shoulders and backs slightly hunched after what might have been years spent carrying it. Kurt decided he hated the man and the Wise Masters of Yunkai he so proudly represented.

With a brief nod, the envoy signaled something to two of his slaves, who produced two heavy golden chests from inside the palanquin. Kurt didn't want to think about how much they had to weigh. The poor boys carried them behind their master as he walked, until the three of them were under the flapping roof of Kurt and Blaine's tent.

The dragons stirred from where they were coiled lazily around their little thrones; each one of them could almost circle them completely, his head not reaching the tail by ten inches or so. Kurt was petting Rhaegal's head, which was resting on his armrest, while Drogon's tail stroked languidly at his calves. Viserion, the white one, was practically wrapped around one side of Blaine's chair, so his head came to rest right above Blaine's one. He was the first of them Blaine had ever touched, and somehow the one the khal had grown more fond of, which was quite endearing.

Rachel was pouring wine for them – she liked to be called servant instead of slave now, and got paid for her work – while Brittany and Santana relieved them from the heat with ostrich feathers. It wasn't something Kurt made them do normally, but he wanted to put up a bit of a show and make the Yunkai'i fear him. Tina, as bearer of the Khal's heir and natural mother of their child, was always near them; they had stuffed a corner with plush soft pillows for her to sit on. Finn guarded the entrance, and Wes and David the tent itself.

"I present you Khal Blaine of the horselords, Great Khal of the Dothraki Sea and Breaker of Shackles" announced Quinn, who had turned out to know so many languages that Kurt had officially named her his interpreter and spokeswoman. "And his husband, Kurt Stormborn of House Hummelsmythe, rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros, of the Andals and the First Men, Khalees of the Dothraki Sea, Father of Dragons, the Unburnt, and Breaker of Shackles."

The list of names was so long that Kurt himself forgot one from time to time. He had decided to use Stormborn too, after the vision of his past in the House of the Undying; a way to embrace where he came from, he liked to think, and accept what could not be changed. The last nickname was something the ex-slaves themselves had come up with. Blaine was way more uncomfortable with it than Kurt was, but they had agreed that it had a certain sound to it, and a powerful one.

The envoy bowed courteously before them, but the smirk couldn't seem to leave his face, as if his mission in life was to mock everyone who was not him.

"That is a dreadfully long list" he said in a voice as smooth as his tokar's silk, yet sharp like a knife. "I'm afraid mine will be shorter. Dustin Goolsby, sent to you by the Wise Masters of Yunkai, the yellow pearl of Slaver's Bay."

Kurt suppressed the need to snort; if Yunkai looked half as bland as its red sister, then it was the farthest thing from a pearl.

"What do you want from us, Dustin Goolsby?" Blaine said, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

The language had made it impossible for him to participate in the transactions back in Astapor; he was just starting to speak the Common Tongue well, so Kurt didn't want to teach him High Valyrian yet, or maybe ever. It was way more difficult, and required years to be mastered. Also, now that Kurt's identity was out in the open, the slavers couldn't use Valyrian to try and hide their true purposes anymore, and judging from the language Dustin Goolsby had used, they had decided to quit it altogether in his presence just to deny him the satisfaction of speaking his native tongue.

Even so, the envoy looked surprised to hear Blaine answering instead of Kurt. It showed for just a second on his face, but Kurt noticed.

"I'm here to offer you a deal" he said, gesturing for his slaves to open the golden chests at his sides. "Yunkai doesn't concern itself with the wars of faraway Westeros, and the Wise Masters don't care whether a king or a pig sits the Iron Throne, as long as the trade stands in place. You have caused great trouble, but they are peaceful people, and they forgive easily. They'll let you pass under their walls unharmed and undisturbed, to continue on your journey. The only thing they require is for you to give them the slaves you freed in Astapor. They will even pay you for them."

He gestured to the open chests, full of golden coins and gems of many different colors, then went on.

"The slaves will be trained to serve in the pillow houses of Yunkai, or sold back to Astapor at a higher price, that still has to be settled. You can express your preference on the matter, so I can report it back to the Wise Masters."

It seemed so simple in words that Kurt almost laughed. Because it wasn't. It was far from simple. What the Yunkai'i asked was not only something that repulsed him, but it was also meant to humiliate them, to make them admit they had been wrong to think they could really damage the slavetrade and get away with it.

"What do you think, Rhaegal?" Kurt prompted his green dragon, scratching leisurely behind one of his ears. He took a piece of charred meat from a bowl they had placed between the chairs and threw it in the air above Rhaegal's head.

The creature snapped his jaws to catch it, quick like lightening, and the slaves behind the golden chests shrank back in terror, almost tripping over their own feet. Dustin Goolsby flinched, but stood exactly where he was. Blaine chuckled darkly from his chair.

"Mh, he doesn't seem to like the idea" Kurt told the envoy, leaning against the armrest with his elbow. "And I don't like it, either."

Something like rage flashed before the Yunkish man's eyes, but he recomposed himself and smiled.

"Let me be clear. If you refuse the deal, you don't get to pass under Yunkai's walls. We have pots of boiling oil all along the top, archers with fire arrows, and a company of sellswords under contract. Why are a bunch of useless slaves worth such a risk?"

Kurt narrowed his eyes at that.

"Because they're people. Our people now. They turned to us for safety. Do you expect us to sell them back so easily?"

"I expect you to do the clever thing. Slaver's Bay is not your place. You'd best leave it before something happens to you and your precious dragons."

"And you'd best think before you speak" Blaine snapped, fists clenching on the armrests. He had never been good at diplomacy. Kurt didn't want him to be.

"What about you, Great Khal?" the envoy asked in a vicious tone, all semblance of courtesy forgotten. "Are Dothraki freeing slaves now instead of making them? I wonder what your father would say if he saw you."

It was the wrong thing to say.

Blaine shot up from his chair as if it had burned him and pointed at Dustin Goolsby with a threatening finger, the dragons hissing nervously around him.

"Get out" he said sharply. "Now."

The Yunkish man's grin was wider than before when he gave a mocking bow. He gestured to his slaves to take the chests back to his palanquin, but before they could lift them from the ground, Kurt spoke.

"Leave them."

Dustin Goolsby raised an eyebrow at him.

"Does this mean the Father of Dragons has changed his mind?" he asked cautiously. Kurt grinned and shook his head.

"That is a gift" he explained slowly, Viserion's head back under his stroking palm. "A gift from the kind masters of Yunkai, to help us continue our perilous trip. Thank them for their most welcomed generosity."

The envoy gritted his teeth so hard Kurt thought they would fall off his jaw.

"The Wise Masters gave you no gift."

"Of course they did" Kurt insisted in a light, dismissive tone. "And I'm giving you one too. Your life."

With a slight tilt of Kurt's head, Rhaegal crawled forward and spread his bronze-lined wings in front of their guests, before roaring in their faces. It was a shrill sound still, but it would soon grow into a deep, thunderous roar. The slaves left the chests where they were and ran back to the palanquin, followed by their master. Dustin Goolsby rushed back into it, but he still had the guts to turn around and warn them, "You will regret this, Breakers of Shackles!"

After he was gone, they all remained silent for a while, until Santana put down her ostrich feather and scoffed.

"What a fucking presumptuous prick" she muttered, and Brittany covered her mouth with her hand and chuckled.

"I don't care how we do it" Blaine spoke up suddenly, staring intently at where the envoy had once stood. "This time, we'll do this my way. I want Yunkai to disappear from the face of the earth."

Kurt turned to look at him.

"Not that I disagree" he answered slowly, because to be honest, the idea thrilled him. "But does this have something to do with what he said to you? About... Dothraki freeing slaves?"

He dreaded the moment Blaine would come to him and say it was too much; this new thing about slavery was confusing for him, and apparently didn't do no good to his reputation as Khal. But when Blaine turned around as well, he didn't look angry at him.

"Let's make something clear here, moon of my life" he said, staring into Kurt's eyes. "I don't presume to understand completely what's gotten into your head – I never do. I know there are things about you, about what you are, that I will never fully get, but I've accepted that. What I know, though, and what I understand, is something I've told you before: whatever you want in this world, I shall give it to you. All the rest is words, and words are wind. Let them think I'm a terrible Khal. As soon as we're done here, I'll take some of the Unsullied back to the Dothraki Sea, claim the first khalasar I run into, and take Tina to Vaes Dothrak for the horse heart ceremony. "

Kurt's breath caught in his throat at the thought of Blaine marching north without him.

"I'll go with you, my sun-and-stars" he told him. "I owe you that, and so much more. I owe you everything."

Blaine smiled and reached out a hand to brush a lock of Kurt's hair away from his forehead, but then he shook his head.

"It's too dangerous" he objected. "I want you somewhere safe now that the truth about you is out in the open. Let's talk about this another time, though, okay?"

"Okay" Kurt sighed, slightly disappointed. Blaine noticed it and leant forward from his armrest until he was close enough to kiss the pout off his lips.

Before he could, though, someone stalked inside the tent, and the moment was broken.

"Your Graces" the captain of the Unsullied said, bowing before them. "Three sellswords came to our camp. They asked me if they could speak to you."

"Mike, I told you, there is no need to call us like that" Kurt told him with a little smile. It was a habit the Unsullied couldn't seem to forget, probably because that was how they had been calling their masters all their lives.

"This one is sorry" replied the captain, a young man with a lean, muscular body and almond-shaped eyes, very similar to Tina's. "This one also would like to say that Mike is not his name, Your- khalees."

Kurt knew it was; he had asked him the day after the feast outside the walls of Astapor. His first answer had been "The Unsullied have no names, Your Grace. To be addressed by their masters, they change it every day, extracting names from a bowl every morning", which had left him stunned and disgusted. Another way to take their humanity away from them, denying them the first thing every human being has the right to have.

So Kurt had clarified, "What is the name your mother gave you when you were born?"

"This one has no mother" the man had said.

"This one had one long ago, and he knows it."

Reluctantly, the Unsullied had complied and told him his name was Mike, but apparently he still didn't believe it.
Slightly exasperated, Kurt sighed.

"What would you like me to call you, then?" he asked him. "But pick one name; I won't have you change them everyday anymore, it's confusing."

Mike seemed to think about it for a moment, staring at the ground. When he looked back up, Kurt saw his eyes shifting to the side for a second, toward the corner where Tina was sprawled. The soldier averted his gaze quickly and stared back at Kurt.

"This one would be honored if you called him Grey Worm" he said.

"Why Grey Worm?" Kurt inquired, curious.

"It is the name this one had the day Your- the day the Breakers of Shackles freed him, khalees."

Kurt smiled at him. Sometimes it was hard to even look at them, knowing what they had done to become what they were, but it was getting easier every day. There were still human beings deep down inside them, and Kurt wanted to bring them to the surface and get to know them, starting with Mike.

"Very well" he said. "Let them in, Grey Worm."

The Unsullied bowed and left the tent. When he came back, there were indeed three men at his heels, clad in boiled leather and steel. Two were quite robust, with large shoulders and thick arms, while the other one had a better physique, his body lean and tall with the right amount of muscles. His head was shaved except for a thick black stripe in the middle, from his forehead down to the nape of his neck.

When Quinn was done with her presentation, they looked slightly bored, their insolent faces staring at Kurt and Blaine without the smallest trace of fear over them, hands cupping the hilt of their swords. When Blaine noticed it, he took out his arakh and held it loosely at his side in a silent threat. Kurt knew he could throw it and cut off their heads in a single strike, and they knew it too.

"My name is Azimio" the first man to the right said, his skin black as pitch – it reminded Kurt of Mercedes. "I am the captain of the Titans, currently under contract with the Wise Masters of Yunkai. These are my generals: David Karofsky and Noah Puckerman."

The one called Noah was the better-looking one, the man with the weird hair. He acknowledged Kurt and Blaine with a nod, but his attention was somewhere else, caught by the various female servants in the tent. He was staring at every one of them from head to toe as if he could undress them with his eyes. The hilt of his sword had the shape of two naked women intertwined in the act of lovemaking, and he was stroking at it back and forth in a way that was borderline obscene, so much so that Kurt heard Santana mutter "Gross" under her breath.

When it was clear the man had nothing more to say, Kurt inquired, "Why are you here? Are you considering changing sides?"

To be honest, he didn't trust sellswords at all, but if they did want to sell themselves to him he would have been glad to consider it. When the dark-skinned man shook his head, though, he knew that wasn't the case.

"Yunkai pays us in gold and bedslaves, and according to what the tales say about you, Breakers of Shackles, that is not something you'd be willing to give us. So no, thank you. Since the envoy informed us you turned down his offer, we wanted to see who we are up against. Plus, David here tells me he's never seen two faggy kings before, and I was pretty curious myself. We have been making bets over which of you shoves it up the other's ass."

Kurt stopped himself from telling the dragons the one little word that would turn the three men into smoking piles of ash and bones. Blaine, to his surprise, twirled his arakh in the air and gave an amused chuckle.

"You must be really good if you have the time to think about our cocks rather than practice" he said with a pleased grin. "After we're done with you, maybe we'll give you a little demonstration. What do you say, moon of my life?"

Kurt glanced at him briefly and smirked.

"Why not? I bet they will hear us from beneath their graves" he reflected out loud.

Noah Puckerman suppressed a laugh, while David and Azimio scrunched up their faces in clear disgust, which made Kurt feel strangely proud of himself. He didn't need their respect, so he might as well creep them out to no end. He even considered grabbing Blaine and kissing him roughly, but then Azimio spoke.

"Thanks for the nightmares, Your Graces. Anyway, I have to say I'm impressed. It's quite the army you've got there. Eunuchs, am I right? Guess you feared too many dicks around would be distracting."

Jape aside, that stung more than Kurt would have thought.

"We didn't castrate them" he clarified sharply. "Their masters back in Astapor did."

"I see" Azimio answered thoughtfully, before looking around with a smile. "Well, lucky us. All this pretty whores will be ours to fuck when the battle is over."

A choir of shocked intakes of breath followed, and Rachel let her tray slip from her hands, producing a loud clung.

"Then I guess I know which part of you to cut first" Blaine concluded grimly.

"My dragons and I think you should go" Kurt informed them, pointedly grabbing another piece of charred meat to throw it in front of him. This time the dragons all shot up from their places to fight over it, snapping their tails in the air like whips.

The three sellswords took a step back, but fear didn't show on their faces.

"See you on the battlefield" David Karofsky spat. Noah Puckerman didn't say a word, but before leaving he glanced back at the servants with eyes full of lust.

Gross indeed.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

For being the night before a very important battle, it was very calm. Kurt was calm. The Unsullied didn't need further training so the camp was still and quiet, except for the random scream of a child running among the tents before his mother caught him and brought him back to theirs.

Blaine was calm, too. He always was before a fight. Once he'd explained to Kurt that it relaxed him, that feeling of stillness right before the madness began. It was something Kurt would never understand completely, but just like Blaine had said, it was okay. He didn't need to understand every single thing about Blaine to love him, he just needed to accept it as it was.

They were having a bath together, something they had never done before somehow, and Kurt decided it was the best thing ever. Blaine sitting behind him in the tub, his strong arms linked over Kurt's stomach, their legs touching under the water. It was sensual without being sexual, the feeling of just... being together. Blaine was peppering kisses all along his shoulders, but it remained unspoken that it didn't have to lead to something more, and it was all slow and languid and simple. It felt like happiness.

And just like happiness, something shattered it before Kurt could realize it.

A rustling sound from one end of the tent, opposite to where the guarded entrance was; a sword cutting through it and a hooded man stepping in with a black sack draped over one shoulder.

Luckily, Blaine's instincts never failed; heedless of his nudity, he grabbed his arakh from the nearby table and shot out of the tub, pointing it at the man threateningly. Shaking slightly, Kurt stood up, grabbed a cloth and tied it around his waist before getting out as well, water splashing over the rim of the tub. The dragons were in another tent at the moment, guarded by Wes and David, to give Kurt and Blaine some privacy. Not the smartest of their ideas so far.

"Who are you?!" Blaine demanded, dripping water on the carpet.

The man lifted the hood away from his face and raised his hands in surrender, even though one still held his sword. Even before looking at the man's features, Kurt recognized him by the hilt of the weapon.

"Man, put something on, would you?" Noah Puckerman said, staring at Blaine's face hard to avoid looking down. "I'm all for the fucking-anything-you-like thing, but not everyone of us is a fan of dick, you know."

Blaine narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Without putting down his arakh, he grabbed a cloth and tied it hastily around his waist, staring at Puckerman all the while.

"What do you want?" he asked then.

"To fight for you" the sellsword answered simply, shrugging. Kurt raised an eyebrow.

"I asked you that this morning, and your captain refused" he pointed out, slowly making his way around the tub to reach Blaine's side.

"That's because he's an asshole and an idiot" Noah Puckerman replied. "Pay me well, and I'm yours. What fun is there in fighting an enemy you know you can't defeat? What fun is there in fucking a girl who doesn't truly want you to? Puckzilla does whatever he wants and goes wherever he pleases, and he fights and fucks whoever he likes."

Something in his speech made Kurt suddenly suspicious.

"If you think you'll get a girl out of this, you can forget it. My servants are free women" he warned.

"Exactly!" Puckerman exclaimed. "I want a girl who really appreciates this hot piece of meat right here, you know. At least one of them will put out for me before the year is done, and willingly. I got my eyes set on the pretty blonde one who speaks so well. Although I have different plans for her mouth."

"Whatever the reason," Blaine cut in, sounding annoyed – Kurt was sure it had something to do with Puckerman interrupting their bath, "the point is that you are a general, not a captain. You can't make decisions for the Titans."

That seemed to amuse Noah Puckerman, because he cocked his hip and grinned wickedly, before turning the sack he was holding upside down to let its content fall to the ground.

Two heads stared back at Kurt from the carpet, eyes open wide and empty, blood coming out of the gash that had separated them from their bodies.

"I can if my captain and co-general are dead!" Puckerman announced enthusiastically.