The muddy, greenish blue of the Skahazadhan glistened wetly under the unforgiving sun, a long, twisty snake slithering his way through the desert to plunge into the sea of Slaver's Bay. It passed right through Meereen before disappearing in its waters, so to Kurt the city looked like a big open mouth.

The heat was stifling, as it always was in the East, and the trees were growing scarcer still, scrawny things with nothing but a couple of skinny branches and withered leaves that offered no solace at all. To the north there was the Dothraki Sea, he knew; to the south, the forgotten Yunkai and Astapor - Meereen's sisters, daughters of Old Ghis. To the east, his past. To the west, his future. By his side, bare-chested and curly-haired and beautiful, his present.

They were camping a few miles from the slave city, studying an old wrinkled map of the world set on a table between their little thrones to decide where exactly they should go, some place where Kurt and half their army could wait for Blaine and the other half to return from their hopefully brief voyage. So far, Kurt's attempts at convincing him that splitting up was a bad idea had been pointless.

West of Slaver's Bay, the continent was full of cities left in ruins; old powers conquered and burned down by the Valyrian dragonlords. Their best option was to find one, restore it as best as they could like they had done in Vaes Tolorro, and wait there, where no one would bother looking for Kurt in the first place.

"News from the slaver city, Khal and Khalees" David reported when he came back to the camp from his morning exploration. "The slaves are rising."

There was a boy with him, skinny as a stick and clad in filthy rags, with a tangled mop of brown hair atop his head. He fell to his knees in front of Kurt and Blaine and pressed his forehead against the sand.

"Physae, Physae" he chanted, pleading and breathless. "Physae, you came for us. We knew you would."

He spoke the Common Tongue with the accent of Ghis, but not badly. Kurt gave Blaine an uneasy glance before speaking from his chair.

This was not planned.

"You may rise" he told the boy, who pushed himself to his feet as if it was an order. "Do you come from inside the city?"

"I do" he confirmed, nodding. "The sentinels on the walls saw you coming, so we decided to rise against our masters to help you free us, Physa. After Yunkai, we were waiting for you. Our masters forbade us to talk about it, but we did when they were not looking. We prayed, too, and the Gods heard our voices. You came."

Gods laugh at us as if we were fools, Kurt couldn't help but think, and maybe we are.

The boy fell to his knees again, praying in his forgotten language, muttering things under his breath. Kurt could feel Blaine shifting awkwardly on his chair.

"David, fetch food and water for our guest, and new clothes to wear" Kurt told the bloodrider, before staring at him intently. "Bring the boy with you."

"Your wish is my command, khalees."

They went.

"What have we done?" Kurt whispered, looking beyond the entrance to the tent, at the multi-colored bricks of Meereen's walls. Red, green, blue, purple, yellow; they made it look like something a child would build, putting stones of different sizes and colors on top of one another to make a little castle.

"We set expectations" Blaine answered, his tone pensive. "It's not our fault they are too high."

Kurt stared at him in anguish.

"We can't leave them like this" he whispered.

They could free Meereen as well, after all. It wasn't in their plans, but it was just another city, what difference did it make? And freeing slaves made him feel good with himself. It was... right. After freeing the majority of the Astapori slaves and giving Yunkai a council of freedmen, wasn't it unfair of them to leave Meereen as it was? Maybe the Gods just wanted them to complete what they had started. They were not wrong.

Apparently, Blaine thought they were. He heaved an exaggeratedly long breath and turned on his chair so he could lean over the armrest towards Kurt.

"We can" he replied. "We destroyed half of Astapor because we needed the Unsullied, then we freed Yunkai because we needed to pass beyond it, plus the envoy made me want to grab his neck and snap it. We don't need it now. Also, we had it easy because we entered Astapor as buyers before taking it, while in Yunkai it was thanks to Noah Puckerman. A real siege could take months with walls that high."

Kurt opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Blaine was right: they didn't need to. But...

But he had dreamt of them, since Yunkai. He had dreamt of their hands all around him, lifting him up in the air only to catch him before he could fall back to the ground; of their smiles, their tears of joy, their grateful voices. In the dream he fell back down among them and let the crowd swallow him until he disappeared, until he was in the sand beneath their scraped feet and in the air they breathed and the beating of their hearts. In the dream he gave himself to them completely.

A king does not belong to himself, but to his people, his father used to say – Finn had told him that.

"But they are our people, my sun-and-stars" he said, his thoughts leaving his mouth without him knowing it. "We have to protect them."

Blaine's expression shifted. He narrowed his eyes.

"All of you, leave us. Now."

The usual occupants of the tent scrambled to their feet; this time, even Santana was wise enough to remain silent as she and Brittany led a sickly-looking Tina out. She was starting to be sick in the morning, because of the baby.

"The Meereenese are not our people" Blaine stated firmly as soon as they were gone. "You don't even know them, how-"

"They call us Fathers, Blaine" Kurt insisted. "We are their heroes, their saviors, we are what they pray for at night when no one can hear them. They are our children."

Blaine huffed in exasperation. Kurt couldn't help but think bitterly I knew this time would come. Blaine had said openly that he didn't understand the reason behind Kurt's freeing mission, and Kurt didn't expect him to; but he had also said that it was okay anyway, that he didn't need to.

Liar.

"Tina's baby is our child" Blaine said, pointing a finger toward the pillow-stuffed corner of their tent. "Your dragons are our children. Not- not all these people. Do you think they really care if it's us or others? We just happen to be here when they need us to. I just- I don't get it."

"You said you don't need to get it as long as it is what I want" Kurt pointed out, crossing his arms over his chest and raising an eyebrow in annoyance. "Whatever you want in this world, I shall give it to you, wasn't that so?!"

"I-" Blaine stammered, standing up from his chair suddenly and weaving a hand through his hair like he did every time he felt nervous or stressed or cornered.

"I thought so" Kurt sulked.

"Then what is it you want?" Blaine turned on him again, his voice slightly louder, arms in the air. "What do you want, Kurt? Slaver's Bay? Valyria? Westeros? The world? You just have to say it, and it's yours. Ever since I met you, all I ever did I did it to get you what you want."

Blaine's bitter, resentful tone made Kurt feel like someone had just stabbed him.

Was all of this so hard for you?

Before he could ask that out loud, Blaine went on.

"But then I say I want to find a new khalasar and head back to Vaes Dothrak because it's important to me, and suddenly you have thousands of children you need to free because apparently the one we're going to have is not enough for you."

Kurt gasped and gaped at him in shock. A wave of rage hit him hard, and suddenly what he wanted to say before didn't matter anymore.

"How could you even think that? This has nothing to do with us or the baby! It's about what is right, and what is our responsibility!" he almost yelled. "I told you I wanted to go with you, and you said no. What am I supposed to do then? Sit among scattered ruins sipping wine and eating dates while I wait for you to come back and get me? While in the meantime, people die beyond those walls because they thought we were going to rescue them?"

"How many times do I have to tell you that it's too dangerous for you to come with me?" Blaine replied, his tone quieter but sharp, his eyes narrowed again. "Things were different when we departed from Pentos. I had the strongest khalasar of the Dothraki Sea, and all the others ran away when they knew we were near. I will have half of the Unsullied, it's true, but most khalasars are larger in number and the Unsullied don't ride. It's something I need to do for myself and I don't want anything to happen to you because of it!"

Kurt shook his head slowly, caught by a quiet and sudden realization that left him sad and bitter. He stared at Blaine for a moment, unblinking. Gods, it felt as if time had never passed at all.

"I will always be that fragile pretty boy to you" he said softly this time, taking Blaine by surprise, judging by the way the khal's eyes widened. "No matter how hard I try, no matter how many men I make my dragons kill, I will always be someone you need to protect. I will never be strong enough in your eyes."

That seemed to sadden Blaine as well, because he scrunched his face and the fire in his eyes evened out to be replaced by something like guilt.

"Moon of my life, that's not-"

"But I will be, this time" Kurt went on, standing up from his chair to face him – the decision had been made already, he just had to say it.

"Go, do what you have to do. And when you're back, come find me inside my city."

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"Khalees, can I be blunt?" Finn asked as he watched half of the Unsullied getting ready to depart, Grey Worm delivering orders left and right. Blaine was somewhere with his bloodriders, organizing things as well.

"Go ahead" he waived at Finn dismissively as he followed a random soldier with his eyes. There was a pause.

"This is a mistake."

"Well not this blunt" Kurt complained, but there wasn't real anger in his tone – he felt tired all of a sudden. "And why is that, pray tell?"

Finn didn't seem to mind his sarcasm.

"Because we need as many Unsullied as we can if we really want to take Meereen" the knight pointed out. "They should split after the conquest. If I may ask, why is the Khal-"

"-so stubborn and thick-headed?" Kurt finished for him dryly. "Because he's a Khal, that's why. I know this thing about freeing slaves sounds crazy, but I thought he would be okay with it sooner or later. I thought..."

He didn't even know what he thought.

If I look back, I am lost.

"It doesn't sound crazy" Finn said quietly, almost reverently. "It's just... difficult. For him. Do you remember what I told you once? About Khals?"

Kurt nodded absently. He remembered.

"You said that they are proud, stubborn and cruel, but they are men just like everybody else, only with hearts harder to reach."

"And you did it, khalees, you reached it. This is not different. You just have to try harder to make him see what you see. You have your father's blood in you, so I know what that is. You just can't stand to watch people suffer. When you stumble into something that's evil, you can't find it in yourself to look away. This is what got your father killed in the end, but I'm sure he didn't regret doing it, not even once. Because he knew it was right."

Kurt turned around fully to stare at Finn, the noises of the camp suddenly dulled all around him, as if they didn't matter anymore.

"Sometimes it's like you know me better than I do" he told the knight, giving him a little smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm sorry for every time I mistreated you, Finn."

"It's okay" Finn replied quietly, looking down at his feet. "It's in the past."

They both stayed silent then, until Kurt found himself thinking too loud.

"I'm scared" he confessed softly. Finn frowned.

"Because of what I said of the battle? I'm sure we'll manage even though-"

"It's not the battle" Kurt interrupted him, looking around where soldiers were donning armors, sharpening spear points, putting on helms. "I'm scared of losing him."

The blood of the dragon is never scared, Sebastian would have told him. Kurt found himself thinking about what he would say sometimes, as if he could find counsel in memories. As if he could find counsel in something Sebastian would say. But as time passed, the past grew fuzzy around the edges, and his brother seemed less mean every day. A cruel retort turned into an overly cynic jape, a yelled tirade into a severe reproach.

The blood of the dragon is strong, he would have said.

But Sebastian hadn't been the blood of the dragon, and apparently Kurt was never strong enough anyway.

"He will be alright" Finn replied lamely, clearly failing at finding something better to say. "He's a great fighter."

They grew silent again.

"What if he never comes back?" Kurt asked aloud, the words hanging heavy in the air, lost in the noises. Kurt wished they were louder, so they could be all he was able to hear.

Finn blinked a couple of times more than necessary, as if he wasn't sure he'd heard it right.

"Of course he will come back!" he said when he recovered. "He loves you."

Kurt nodded silently, chewing at his lower lip.

But what if it's not enough?

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Viserion's scales were so hard that Kurt wondered dully if patting and stroking them weren't a waste of time after all. It served the purpose of soothing himself, more than the dragon, so he decided it did not matter.

Unsullied and Dothraki were leaving now; he could hear them marching north. Away.

He didn't even say goodbye, he thought, pressing his cheek against the top of the dragon's head, nestled in his lap as he sat on a bench covered with soft silk pillows. I pushed too hard. He's gone. It's over.

Hot, burning tears made their way down his cheeks, only to disappear in little clouds of steam once they came in contact with Viserion's skin. They were always hot to the touch, the dragons; not scorching, just pleasantly warm. He loved that about them.

"I know you will never leave me" he whispered, circling the creature's neck with his arms, quiet sobs escaping his mouth.

Then he heard the sound of footsteps approaching, and then no more.

"Kurt."

Kurt looked up suddenly, scraping furiously at his cheeks and eyes to hide the fact that he was crying. Blaine's face fell.

"Kurt, don't cry" he pleaded, his face contorted. "I can't stand it when you cry."

Kurt stared hard at him, wanting nothing more than to make those few steps and sink in his embrace and tell him Stay with me, don't ever leave me, don't go. But he was a Hummelsmythe and he was proud, too proud for his own good, he knew, and saying that would only prove that what Kurt had told him at the end of their fight was true.

"You will be late" he said instead, his voice gruff and unrecognizable.

"I know" Blaine replied. He opened his mouth again, hesitated. "Look, if... if you really think you need me here, I can stop this and march north after the conquest is over."

It was there again. If you really think you need me.

In that moment, Kurt knew he was doing it right. It didn't hurt any less.

"But you don't want to" he pointed out. "You don't want to take a city if there's no purpose in it other than freeing people."

Blaine stared at him silently and swallowed guiltily, as if Kurt had caught him doing something he wasn't supposed to be doing.

"No, I don't."

"Then I'm not going to make you do something you don't want" Kurt answered simply, rationally. "We want two different things right now, and none of us should change them to please the other. It's okay."

It's not.

Blaine nodded thoughtfully, lowering his gaze to the ground. He shifted on his feet, as if he felt embarrassed and exposed, then looked back up at Kurt. He started to take a step forward, as if he wanted to get closer, but then reconsidered and stood where he was. Kurt's heart sank in his chest.

We fought so hard to get close, and now we're miles apart.

When did that happen?

"I'll see you soon, then" Blaine announced stiffly.

They looked at each other one more time before he turned around to leave.

"Will you?" Kurt whispered down at Viserion, so softly that it was impossible for Blaine to hear it. Or so Kurt thought.

Blaine stopped in his tracks at the entrance of the tent. He turned around slowly.

"What did you say?" he asked in a suspicious tone. Kurt looked up in panic.

"Nothing" he replied quickly, cheeks reddening. The answer struck Blaine harder than he would have thought.

"Don't lie to me" the khal said, his face a mask of hurt. "Don't ever lie to me."

Kurt heaved a long breath that turned out to be half a sob.

"I said, will you?" he conceded, and once he did, everything else came spilling out. "Will you come back once you have a new khalasar at your feet, once you're back where you belong, with your Stallion staring down at you from the sky? Because if you won't, you just have to tell me now. You did so much for me, so much more than what anyone would have ever done. You left your home and crossed the poisonous sea and followed me in this folly. I won't be mad. I just- I just want a chance to say goodbye."

He had been mad, actually - at Blaine, at himself, then at Blaine again. He had been mad at Dothraki culture for always being in the way of them understanding each other; he had been mad at the slavers, for doing something so horrible that he couldn't bring himself to ignore; at some point he had even been mad at the slaves for not being able to free themselves on their own. In the end he had narrowed it down to himself, for being so damn stubborn, and to Blaine, for the exact same reason. They were so different, but in that they were the same.

Blaine's mouth was half-open in shock, his eyes wide. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish trying to breathe out of the water.

"You- is that- is that what you think? That I'm going to run away and never look back?"

Kurt opened his mouth to speak, but before he could do it he saw Blaine taking one step forward, so he did it as well, disentangling himself from Viserion. They met in the middle, and Blaine cupped his face with both hands as he had done so many times before, since that day of another life when he had discovered his bruised wrists and had whispered I will never hurt you and You're mine.

And then they were kissing, and everything was raw passion and despair, as if Kurt's skin was peeling away from his bones to leave him bare and exposed, and it hurt. He didn't know how something could hurt so much and still be so good, but it did. Blaine's tongue in his mouth, Blaine's fingers digging into his scalp, Blaine's ragged breath against his own. It hurt and Kurt didn't want it to stop, because it was real and there and them.

It did, eventually, so they clutched at each other with their lips still brushing softly.

"I'll be back" Blaine promised, nose bumping against Kurt's. "I promise, moon of my life."

The nickname was enough for Kurt to believe it.

"Then I'll be waiting for you, my sun-and-stars."

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It took them twelve days. Twelve days of storming thick brick walls with nothing but ladders and ropes, since they didn't have enough wood to build trebuchets and catapults. Twelve days of watching people die, of wondering if it was really worth it. Twelve days of asking himself where Blaine was, what he was doing, whether he was okay or not.

Meereen didn't have archers on the walls like Yunkai, so Kurt sent his dragons this time, but as much death and destruction they managed to spread, their fire could not melt the walls – only the men standing on top of them. Their screams echoed all throughout the day, since the Great Masters insisted on replacing them over and over again so they could throw stones and pour boiling oil down at the Unsullied and the Titans (Puck had stayed there with him, since Blaine had both Unsullied and Dothraki following him).

Grey Worm had asked the boy, the one who had escaped from the city, to tell him how that had been possible, hoping there was some secret passage they could take advantage of.

"There was a hole in the walls, close to my master's pyramid" he had replied when summoned. "I could only slip my hand through it at the beginning, but then I started to dig, and dig, and dig, until I was able to pass through on all fours. It took me a year."

The boy was so skinny that not even Kurt himself would have been able to pass through, he was sure, but maybe they could dig some more. So he had sent a little group of soldiers to tend to that, only to watch them come back sooner than he'd expected. The boy's master had had the hole filled again after his escape.

In the end, what did the trick were the slaves themselves. The sun was just rising on the twelfth day of the siege when the guards at the gate fell. The slaves opened it, and once inside the city it took Kurt's army a whole day to take it, but not more.

This time the Great Masters didn't run; they yielded. Theirs were the highest pyramids, made out of bricks of a thousand different colors, but before Kurt could send his dragons to engulf their shimmering tops in flames they saw streams of willing slaves climbing down the steps until they reached the ground.

"They freed us" they told Kurt, with wonder in their eyes. "Their last orders were to tell you that they will be of no harm to you, Physa, if you promise not to be of harm to them."

"Bullshit" Puck replied, unasked, staring up at where one massive pyramid disappeared in the smoky sky. "Khalees, I say let's kill them anyway."

"Since when you say?" Kurt told him, glaring. It was done, and he was tired. What he wanted was for his people to be free, and if they were, there was no need to get more blood on his hands. The Gods knew there was too much of that already.

The next day, the smoke caused by his dragons had cleared from the sky, which was cloudless and bright. Kurt glanced at it from one of the arched marble windows of his court, before turning his attention back to its occupants.

Quinn's voice echoed through the silence.

"All rise for 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, Breaker of Shackles, and King of Meereen!"