Kurt was pacing back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, until he forgot the difference between where was back and where was forth. His shadow followed him along the inner walls of the tent, while outside the night was damp and dark except for the distant fires of an ongoing battle, its clanging noises echoing feebly through the air.

"It's been too long. Why aren't they here yet?" he asked Finn nervously, knowing full well how many times he had already asked.

"Khalees, I told you, battles are unpredictable. You can't know for sure how long they'll take" Finn said, blatantly failing at avoiding the annoyance in his voice, but Kurt was too worried to reprimend him. He knew Finn was sulking because he had been forced to stay behind with him, but Blaine never went to battle without his bloodriders by his side, and Finn was sworn to protect him, so the choice had fallen on the knight.

"But it was supposed to be easy" Kurt complained, still pacing, always pacing. "They should be here by now."

Indeed, they should have been. Kurt wasn't an expert of military strategies, but theirs had seemed pretty clever when they had come up with it. Noah Puckerman (or Puck, as he'd asked to be called) had to convince the Yunkish guards at the gate to let him enter into the city to speak with the Wise Masters in his captain's stead – since the news of Azimio and Karofsky's death had been kept secret to them to avoid suspicions – and once inside, away from the eyes of the archers who always looked toward the outside, he had to kill them as silently as possible and open the gate so the Titans, the Unsullied, the freedmen and the Dothraki could join him and take the city, helped by darkness.

To gain more time before the city realized what was happening, they would all be dressed like sellswords, so the archers along the top of the walls would think that the Masters had allowed them to enter for some reason, or at least wonder why and lose a precious amount of time deciding whether to intervene or not.

Now that he thought about it, though, he realized that many things could have gone wrong. Maybe the guards at the gate had managed to give some sort of alarm before dying at Puckerman's hands, which meant fire arrows and boiling oil cascading from above. Or maybe they hadn't, but the Yunkish people had reacted too readily nonetheless and now they were winning, killing members of his own army.

Grey Worm. Wes. David.

Blaine.

The worst part was that the only thing he could do was wait. He wasn't fit to fight, and even if he had been, Blaine would have never allowed him to. His strenght was in his dragons, and even they had been forced to stand aside and avoid the battle. They weren't old enough to fly over the archers' reach, and Kurt didn't know if an arrow could actually breach their scales, but he didn't want to find out. Yunkai wasn't Westeros; they could have been useful, but not necessary to win.

Still, Kurt couldn't help but wonder if he'd just traded the safety of his dragons for that of his people.

I could still send them, he thought. Even though they're not big enough for me to ride them, I could tell them to go.

It unsettled him, however, to think about sending them to fight while he stayed behind and watched. It felt like something a coward would do. He thought of Blaine, of how he always managed to compare dragons and horses, and realized how stupid it would be for a man to send his horse to battle while he remained idly sitting in his tent. But then again, as much as Blaine liked to find similarities between the two, dragons were not horses.

They did what Kurt told them to do, it was true, but Kurt always had the feeling that they did it because they wanted to, not because they felt some primal instinct to follow the basic orders of their master. If something of what Kurt had told them so far hadn't felt right to them, Kurt was sure they would have refused to do it. It scared him, because what if they turned into cruel blood-thirsty beasts who couldn't distinguish the good people from the evil, who would burn everything without him being able to tell them to stop?

The sound of voices and footsteps approaching interrupted his train of thought. Finn grasped the hilt of his sword for good measure, and the dragons raised their heads curiously from where they were lying in a corner, opposite to where Tina was attended by Kurt's servants day and night. She said it was unnecessary, since her belly hadn't even started to grow yet, but Blaine wanted his heir to have every possible care even when the heir in question was still as big as a nut. Kurt could not blame him.

Three men stepped inside the tent abruptly, visibly out of breath, like they'd been running. When they all removed their helms from their heads, Kurt's heart jumped against his ribcage as if it wanted to explode out of his chest.

Noah Puckerman had his cocky grin in place, which meant that they carried good news, and Grey Worm looked pleased in that quiet, reverent way of his, as if he wasn't allowed to show his emotions – because that was what he'd been taught all his life –, but Kurt's attention was immediately caught by the third man.

It was weird to see him with so many clothes on; it didn't exactly suit him, but it wasn't an ugly sight, either.

As if he could ever be an ugly sight.

The armor of boiled leather and steel must have been hell for him, after an entire life spent bare-chested with only a pair of riding trousers for coverage, because he was sweating profusely, tiny drops descending down his temple all the way to the scruff he had forgot to shave from his cheeks.

What struck Kurt the most, though, was that he was beaming.

"The city is ours, my khalees" Blaine told him, breath slowly coming back to normal as he panted. "Slaves all throughout the city joined us as soon as they realized what we were doing, killing their masters inside their houses before we could."

He was almost vibrating on the spot, like a child waiting to be praised, and Kurt wanted nothing more than do just that, in whatever way Blaine wanted. Before he could give him a reply, though, Puck joined in with his report.

"The Unsullied owned by some of the Yunkish masters gave us a hard time, but in the end, their losses were too heavy and they had to yield. What do you want to do with them?"

Kurt turned to Grey Worm for counsel.

"Since we defeated them, and we belong to you, they are yours now, khalees. This one knows some of them – we were trained together as boys, before being sold separately. If you gave them their freedom like you did with us, this one thinks they'd fight for you."

Kurt thought about it for a moment, unsure. The decision to free the Unsullied back in Astapor had been inspired by a spur of the moment, a bold bet he wasn't even sure he would win, but now, without the adrenaline of a recent killing coursing in his veins, he wondered if that was a smart move. Why had the Unsullied joined him, after all?

"How can you be so sure they would?" he asked Grey Worm.

The captain looked uneasy for a moment, as if Kurt had asked him some deep, personal question, and once again Kurt caught him looking briefly toward Tina's corner and biting his lip shyly.

Does he like her?, he couldn't help but wonder. Weren't they supposed to feel nothing at all?

To be honest, discovering that Sue Sylvester had only fooled herself on the matter would make his day.

"Because we... we don't know how to be anything else, khalees" was his murmured answer. "Fighting is what gives us a purpose, a reason to exist. These ones have been trained to serve and feel the need to serve, and nothing more."

Kurt swallowed down the sadness the answer brought to his heart. They had won. It was supposed to be a happy moment.

"Then I'm giving you the task of telling them what I told you" he said to Grey Worm. "If they want to go, they're free to go. Otherwise they will join us and make up for our losses."

Grey Worm bowed stiffly from inside his armor.

"This one is pleased to have served you."

The sentence stung; it was the exact same thing the Unsullied whose nipple had been cut out by Sue Sylvester had said to her. He wanted to abolish the phrasing altogether, but after forbidding them to call him "Your Grace" and forcing them to settle on one name only, he didn't want to confuse them, snatching their precious habits away from them too sharply. They were all they had, after all.

"You can go, then" he replied instead. However, the captain lingered.

"There's some other thing. The Wise Masters escaped. When these ones reached the top of their pyramids they were already gone, escaped through a maze of tunnels that spreads itself underneath the city and ends among the mountains, according to what their slaves say. Do you want us to go after them, khalees?"

Kurt sighed. And here he thought they'd had a complete victory.

"I don't know. What do you think, my sun-and-stars?"

Blaine shifted from foot to foot and bit the inside of his cheek, considering.

"I was really looking forward to kill them myself, but the mountains... our horses are not trained for that kind of territory, and besides, we don't even know where the tunnels end. We could get lost. Maybe we should send the dragons to fly over them."

It did sound like a good idea, but Kurt had his reservations. Before the battle, they had decided they would leave Yunkai to the rule of a council of freedmen, both from Astapor and from Yunkai itself, and keep marching. Blaine wanted to head back to the Dothraki Sea as soon as possible, but Yunkai didn't strike him as a place safe enough to leave Kurt in in the meantime due to its tricky position, squeezed between the sea and the mountains. They would leave behind many freed slaves and a little squadron of Unsullied and sellswords both to protect them and help them restore the city, make it their home. On hindsight, not doing it with Astapor too had been a mistake, even more so now that the Yunkish slavers were on the run. Separate, they were weak, but if Astapori and Yunkai'i happened to join forces...

"I don't trust them to fly so far away on their own" Kurt objected, feeling like an overprotective mother goose. "We could send a group of outriders to the mountains, to explore them while we get ready to march again. Maybe tell them to ride on the easy paths and not go in too deep. I suppose the end of the tunnels will be well hidden, but at least we'll have tried."

"Yes, there's not much else we can do" Blaine agreed. "Grey Worm, see to that as well."

"Gladly, my Khal" the Unsullied said before taking his leave.

Kurt massaged his temples with his fingers. He hated all that military talking. It was wearisome.

"So, which one of you girls want to share a cup of wine to celebrate?" Puck put in to fill the silence.

"Go back to your tent, Puckerman" Kurt told him, rolling his eyes. The sellsword scoffed and gave an exaggerated mocking bow.

"Well, if you change your minds, you know where to find me!" he announced to the girls before leaving.

Kurt heard some of them giggle, and when he turned around briefly he saw Quinn with her hand over her mouth, her eyes crinkled up, face flushed as she realized she'd been caught.

Well, well. Look at that.

"You know you can go if you want, right?" he asked her with an eyebrow raised.

"I just think he's funny" she answered dismissively, but Kurt knew she was lying; she was good at it, but Kurt was good at seeing through lies.

"Which is Quinn's code for I'd let him fuck me senseless" Santana mused, making the blond girl gasp in outrage and glare at her.

As much as Kurt liked to watch his servants' banters from time to time, he realized suddenly that he just wanted them all to go the fuck away. The reason was right in front of him; a sweaty, muscular, beautiful reason with too many layers on.

"Could you leave us now?" he blurted. "All of you."

They did it without saying a word, except for Santana, who brushed against him as she left and whispered a quiet "Have fun" in his ear, a silent, oblivious Brittany trailing behind her. Kurt gestured for the dragons to go as well, which they did quite reluctantly, following Finn out of the tent.

When they were gone, Kurt turned his lustful stare on Blaine, who was smirking like a pleased cat.

He knows, the bastard.

"It turns you on, doesn't it?" he said, wiping the sweat away from his forehead before carding his fingers through his own curls on purpose. "To see me like this, all sweaty and dirty, knowing I've just killed someone for you."

That last part should have sounded wrong and morbid and creepy, but Kurt knew it was true, and he was way past the point of denying it anymore. It turned him on indeed, to know how strong Blaine was, strong enough to take him right after a long, tiring battle.

In a few long strides he was in front of his husband, his hands splayed over his covered chest. He hooked his fingers into the collar of his armor and dragged him inside, away from the entrance.

"Can I undress you?" Kurt asked reverently, staring into the khal's honey-colored eyes. Behind Blaine's head, fires were still burning in the distance.

The city is ours.

Kurt wanted the whole world to be.

"Yes" Blaine whispered in a long, drawn-out sigh. "This thing is killing me. I don't understand why people wear them."

"To be protected from their enemies' blows when they fight" Kurt answered, making his way around Blaine to unlace his armor, which had to be peeled off his body from behind.

"If they were good enough, they wouldn't need them in the first place" Blaine complained, reaching his arms out in front of him so Kurt could slide the offending thing away from him and let it fall to the floor. "Men should fight for what they are, men. Not puppets covered in leather and steel."

"I know, my sun-and-stars" Kurt said condescendingly, soothingly, wrapping his arms around Blaine's naked torso from behind. He kissed a particular spot right behind Blaine's ear, and felt him shiver.

"You want me to fuck you, don't you?" Blaine inquired. Kurt smiled against his skin, his face buried between the khal's shoulder-blades to mouth at the hollow that was there.

"Don't you?" he asked knowingly, one hand trailing from the center of Blaine's chest down to his groin to cup him gently, eliciting a groan from deep in his throat. "You're always strung up so tight after fighting. I know you need it. Or are you too tired?"

Blaine turned around in his embrace, gripped him by the back of his thighs, and lifted him up, Kurt's legs winding around his middle as Blaine carried him to the first flat surface he could find, which turned out to be the table. He lowered Kurt onto it and kissed him hungrily, proving that no, he wasn't tired at all.

They made quick work of their remaining clothes and soon Blaine was pumping steadily inside of him with his fingers, brushing that sweet spot hidden deep inside that made him squirm and keen and shudder.

"More" Kurt demanded after three. "Need you."

Blaine eased his fingers out and slung Kurt's legs over his shoulders, entering him smoothly as he moaned in pleasure. Kurt's body was almost bent in half as Blaine began to fuck him hard and deep, and Kurt loved it, loved every single way they did it, whether it was slow and sweet or rough and fast, whether they kissed all throughout or not, because sometimes the pleasure was too overwhelming and they couldn't focus on anything other than inside, hot, close, tight, there, more, yes.

What he loved the most, though, was how Blaine got lost in it sometimes, how his hips seemed to move on their own accord while his mind wandered far away, his eyes glassed over and unfocused, and when that happened only Kurt could bring him back, grabbing his wrist to lead it between his legs when it was too much, scratching at his chest with his nails, whispering dirty secrets in his ear.

This time, he did it by raising himself up on his elbows and saying, "Kiss me."

He knew what it did to Blaine; no matter how many times they had done it, on some deep, basic level it was still something forbidden to him, something new and exciting and dangerous, some secret rule he was allowed to break.

Blaine keened and lowered Kurt's legs from his shoulders so Kurt could wrap them around his waist instead and sit up on the table.

"I'll never get tired of kissing you" Blaine whispered against his lips before claiming them with his own, guiding Kurt's head where he wanted it as he bucked up into him, Kurt moaning into his mouth and gripping his curls to press him closer.

"Promise" Kurt heard himself say, worrying Blaine's lower lip between his teeth. "Promise you'll never get tired of me."

"I promise" Blaine answered immediately, clawing at Kurt's back as he thrust. "I'll never get tired of kissing you, fucking you, loving you. I'll never get tired of your mouth, your eyes, your skin, your- your everything. Want you forever. Love you forever."

"Yes" Kurt moaned in agreement, clutching at Blaine's shoulders, panting against his neck. "Yes, yes, yes."

Forever.

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The outriders didn't find the Wise Masters, but Kurt wasn't surprised to hear that. At least Dustin Goolsby was dead – Blaine himself had killed him, he'd told Kurt as they lay entwined on the carpet, panting and sticky, whispering to each other like two teenagers who didn't want to be overheard by their parents. The envoy's slaves had been so grateful to him that they had decided to join their march as Blaine's slaves, something that struck Kurt as odd, but when he thought about it, he understood. Some people were so used to serve that they didn't know how not to.

"How was the city?" Kurt asked, curious. On the morrow he would have to go in with Blaine and select the members of the council, but he'd never seen the city so far.

"A lot like Astapor, only yellow" Blaine answered, scrunching his face in distaste. "Oh, and full of bedslaves. I stumbled into a pillowhouse at one point, and it was full of little girls. Like, very little. Eight, ten, no more. I killed every single man I saw in there, moon of my life, then I put their heads on spears and circled the house with them, to give it a pretty fence."

The morning of departure, the first free city of Slaver's Bay opened its gates to bid them goodbye. It was a little crowd at the beginning, staring silently as the marching column approached, but as time went by people kept coming out of the city; old men leaning on wooden staffs, women with shy little girls hiding behind their skirts, men with their sons sitting on their shoulders, smiling brightly at the Breakers of Shackles and waving enthusiastically.

"Physae!" Kurt heard someone shout, lost among the sea of people in front of him.

"Physae!" somebody else echoed, soon joined by others until it became a proper chant, a mismatched chorus of old, gruff voices and young, shrill ones.

"What are they saying?" Blaine wondered aloud from atop his horse. Kurt turned to look at Quinn and saw that she was smiling.

"What does it mean?" he asked her directly then. Quinn looked up at him.

"It's in the old Ghiscari language" she said. "It means Fathers."

Kurt and Blaine stared at each other for a long moment, stunned, until the most daring slaves - freedmen, not slaves, not anymore – got close enough to touch their feet and legs. Kurt gasped in surprise at first, but when it became clear that they meant no harm, he let them. They crowded around Kurt and Blaine both, repeating "Physae" over and over and over and saying other things that Kurt could not understand. A woman gestured for Kurt to kiss her baby's forehead; an old man kneeled in front of Blaine's horse and kissed the khal's foot, much to Blaine's complete astonishment. Kurt knew he was used to sacking cities, not freeing them, and one certainly didn't get gratitude out of it.

"Get down from your horse" Kurt told him, before doing it himself. Finn, Wes and David protested weakly behind them, worried about their safety, but he ignored them.

When his feet touched the ground, it lasted a mere second, because someone was lifting him up to let him sit on his shoulder and soon he didn't even know how many people were supporting him; he just knew that they were all around him, touching his clothes, his legs, his face, chanting and smiling and crying.

He looked for Blaine in the crowd and found him hauled up in the air as well, looking even more shocked then Kurt felt, his face turning right and left as if he didn't know where to look, and then he laughed, heartfelt and bright, and his gaze met Kurt's.

Above them, high in the air, the dragons flew in a circle and took up the cry in their own roaring way, overshadowing the crowd in little patches, twirling around one another.

"Physae! Physae! Physae!" the freed slaves intoned, the yellowish walls of Yunkai looming up behind them, less intimidating than before.

I thought we would be fathers soon, Kurt reflected. But today we found our children.