"...what?" Kurt couldn't help but ask, grimacing at the shrill sound of his own shocked voice. Sandy put a gentle hand on his shoulder, and his next words came out slow and soothing, as if he was talking to a little scared child.

"His Highness the prince is the son of your mother's brother" he explained helpfully, as Kurt took in his newfound relative, the first he had the chance to meet if he didn't count Sebastian. "You know she was from Dorne, didn't you?"

"I- yes" Kurt recalled, his mind still processing the unexpected discovery, fighting against a barrier that someone else had put there. "But my brother told me she was an only child."

"He lied" the blonde Dornish prince replied. "My father is dead now, but before he died, he told me he had tried to contact him at some point, after one of his spies in the East had found out that you were both alive. He wanted to help Sebastian, as he was the firstborn, to get back the Iron Throne in order to honor his sister's memory. But your brother refused his help."

"Why?" Blaine asked, voicing Kurt's own doubt and disbelief. "Why would he do something like that?"

Sam Evans seemed surprised at being addressed by Blaine, just like Sandy had been, but his shock was mixed with something like fascination and curiosity toward the Dothraki. Anyway, he put it aside quickly to provide his answer.

"He wanted to take the throne without receiving help from any major House of the Seven Kingdoms. He was afraid he would have to share it, or that the family he allied with would try and take it away from him once the war was over" he said, before turning to speak to Kurt directly. "My guess is that he didn't tell you because he didn't want you to contact my father in secret and plot against him at that point."

Kurt could not believe it. The Iron Throne had been practically served to Sebastian on a silver plate, and he had refused, keeping Kurt away from what remained of his family just so he could have it all to himself. Obviously, hiring Blaine's khalasar had been the best option for him: Dothraki couldn't care less about Westeros, and once their work was done, they would go back to their horses and sackings and aimless wandering among the grass of Essos.

Such a shame none of that had come true.

If you had just been more humble, big brother, the world would have been yours.

"He was an asshole, after all" Blaine commented matter-of-factly – and way less poetically than Kurt – as if retelling Sebastian's death hadn't been enough to clarify his opinion about him.

"Were we in this house when all this happened?" Kurt asked suddenly, struck by the thought. Sandy slipped his hand off his shoulder, his expression getting somber.

"You were" he replied cautiously, "but Sebastian forbid me to talk to you about it."

"You could have told me anyway!" Kurt said sharply, looking at him with the fire of anger and disappointment in his eyes. "How could you keep it from me?!"

Sandy's face reddened in shame, his hands flailing weakly in the air as he struggled for his next words.

"I- you know how he was, he- he would have killed me in my sleep if he'd found out! And you were so... so na�ve, so young, darling boy, and-"

"It's khalees. And what you mean is that I was stupid" Kurt corrected him, narrowing his eyes. "You didn't think I could keep a secret from him."

As angry as he was, he recognized, even though he would never admit it out loud, that he had been all those things. Na�ve, young, and yes, maybe stupid in his own way, always trying to justify Sebastian's behavior, unable to see how mean he truly was just to live under the illusion that someone in the world actually cared about him.

"No one could keep a secret from him" Sandy answered, his voice surer – did he know Kurt so well that he could read his secret admission on his features? "What could you have done anyway? He'd refused your uncle's help. The Evans wouldn't have helped you take the throne while Sebastian was still alive – it's treason, to support a suitor to the crown and ignore the line of succession."

Kurt gave a bitter laugh. He wasn't really mad at Sandy, but what he said stung.

"I wasn't him, you know. I didn't even want the throne at the time. But to know my uncle, and my cousin – that was something I would have liked. And now one of them is dead, and I will never get to know him."

"I know. I'm really sorry" Sandy whispered, staring at the carpeted floor with his hands linked across his stomach, hidden by the wide sleeves of his yellow tunic.

After a brief moment of silence, Sam Evans cleared his throat awkwardly and continued.

"Anyway, when my father told me, I sent a message to Sandy to see if you were still here. My father had... taken it pretty bad at the time, I guess, but I wanted to try again. You had already left for the Dothraki Sea, though, and Sandy had no way of contacting you. When he heard the news that you were coming back to Pentos, he sent for me at Sunspear, our capital. I came here as soon as I could, cousin. I was really looking forward to meet you."

He gave Kurt a lopsided smile, his plump limps creating a soft, full curve across his face. Kurt couldn't help but smile in return. He had just met him, it was true, but that man was his family, and it should mean something. He hoped he would come to feel it soon, the sense of affection and belonging, the bond only blood can create as it flows under your skin. He almost asked for another hug, but then he held his tongue, feeling a little ridiculous; so he tried to think of something else to say, but words failed him.

"I see you are wed" Sam said out of the blue, probably to fill the heavy silence and give Kurt something to talk about. He stared openly at Blaine then. "I like your tattoos, Your Highness."

The lack of mockery in his politeness struck both Kurt and Blaine, and the honesty of his compliment made Kurt like him just a little more.

"It's Khal" Blaine corrected him, but kindly, with a barely suppressed grin on his face. "Do you know what they're for?"

"I'm afraid I'm quite ignorant when it comes to Dothraki culture" the prince admitted, shrugging from inside his white and golden armor, framed with symbols of his noble house. Kurt stared at the exchange in wonder; it was probably the first time Blaine bonded with someone so quickly – but then again, it was also the first time someone from Westeros who wasn't Finn addressed him with courtesy and respect, as a sovereign deserved, instead of looking at him in fear or disgust.

"Each of them represents a kill" Blaine boasted, his grin wider. Kurt braced himself for the kind of expression that would shatter the moment completely, but his cousin – Gods, his cousin, it was weird just to think about it – gave a heartfelt laugh and put his hands on his hips.

"That's a lot of people" he commented, smiling. "You would be very respected in Dorne. Only a man who knows how to kill knows how to live, my father always said."

This looks like the beginning of a great friendship, Kurt thought, shaking his head amusedly.

The little conversation seemed to end there, and they all looked at each other for a moment. Sam had said he had wanted to meet him, but... Kurt felt the need to ask him. After all, it wasn't something he should take for granted.

"Are you... are you here to help me, too?" he said a little hesitantly, trying not to sound demanding or ungrateful. Because truthfully, he would have been happy anyway. His doubts dissolved quickly, though, when the Dornishman smiled that huge smile of his once again.

"Of course I am!" he exclaimed, raising his arms above his head excitedly. "You're blood of my blood, and the throne is yours. I came with a fleet that will take us all to Sunspear, if you want. My army is there, waiting for you to march North."

"And you... don't want anything in return?" Kurt asked carefully – he'd learned, the hard way, that people often had hidden purposes; things they craved, things they would kill for, things they didn't voice openly, threading spider webs of plans and plots to get to them behind his back. If Sam wanted something – if he just said it – maybe Kurt could just give it to him, plain and simple, and gain his loyalty in the process.

The question surprised his cousin though, so much so that Kurt opened his mouth to apologize.

"I'm sorry, that was rude of me."

Sam shook his head and laughed, raking his hand through his straight hair self-consciously.

"Well, I mean, a place as Hand of the King would be nice, but it's entirely up to you" he said, scratching at the nape of his neck in such a Finn-like way that Kurt couldn't help but realize, in that exact moment, why that couldn't be possible. He had never really thought about it, but the simple embarrassed gesture did it.

"That place is reserved for someone else" he said apologetically. "A spot in the Small Council?"

Sam's eyes sparkled.

"Deal."

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"It's not getting any smaller, you know."

Blaine jumped at the sound of Kurt's voice, turning around from where he was looking at the Narrow Sea bathed in the moonlight from the small balcony of Kurt's bedroom. Sandy had left it exactly as it was, in fact, and they had settled there for the night – in Blaine's absence, Wes and David were in charge of the khalasar just outside the city walls, as Puck was of the Titans and Grey Worm of the Unsullied and the Brazen Beasts, who were continuing their training under his surveillance. Finn and Rachel were sleeping in Sebastian's old bedroom instead.

"I know" Blaine chuckled, his back relaxing. "I'm just... getting used to the idea of sailing again."

He turned around toward the sea once again, his elbows resting over the edge of the balcony. Kurt reached him silently and circled his waist with his arms, nestling his chin in the crook between Blaine's neck and shoulder. He planted a kiss there, just where a black line curved into a spiral and ended. It almost seemed to him that every time he touched Blaine, the patterns and designs were different; he always found some little detail he hadn't noticed before, and cherished the beauty of that unimportant secret in his heart as if it was precious – because everything about Blaine was.

"Come on, it wasn't that bad after a while, was it?" Kurt asked him, smiling against his skin. They were both wearing just a pair of loose and comfortable trousers, so Kurt's naked chest brushed sweetly against Blaine's back.

"I guess" Blaine replied, sounding not entirely convinced. Before Kurt could say something else to reassure him, though, he changed the subject and said, "I like him, you know."

"Who?" Kurt asked, although he thought he knew the answer.

"Sam Evans" Blaine said indeed.

"And why is that?" Kurt teased – it surely had to do with Sam complimenting him on how many men he had killed. It wasn't that difficult. Blaine, however, gave him a completely different reason.

"Well, for starters, he doesn't want to marry you, which is kind of a rare quality these days."

"Blaine, gross!" Kurt exclaimed in outrage, slapping playfully at his chest and pulling back a little to glare at him from the side. "He's my cousin."

"Yeah, I guess that must be a major turn-off" Blaine commented, a coy smirk plastered to his face.

"You think? Besides, I don't think he likes men anyway."

Unexpectedly, Blaine turned around in his embrace after that, raising an eyebrow at him sort of skeptically.

"You don't need to like men to like you."
Kurt laughed.

"That's probably the silliest thing I have ever heard."

"I wasn't kidding" Blaine pointed out, frowning slightly.

"Come on, be serious."

"I am!" Blaine assured him, his teeth glistening in the moonlight when he smiled. "I bet every woman in Westeros will want to bear your children."

It was meant to sound light and playful, but both of them realized the mood had shifted as soon as it came out of Blaine's mouth. They stared at each other, unsure of how to breach the obvious subject that sentence hinted at.

"I didn't mean to upset you" Blaine said quietly, earnest eyes staring into Kurt's. He leaned in and kissed Kurt softly, their lips smacking soundly in the still and silent night when he pulled away.

"I know, it's just- I don't really want to think about that" Kurt told him, wrinkling his nose in distaste. Sex with a woman. Ugh. May the Seven help him.

"It's not that bad" Blaine tried to console him, but that only made Kurt realize that Blaine was talking about his experience with Tina, and suddenly she and the baby they had lost were all he could think about. The baby who would have been the Stallion That Mounts The World, the Khal of all Khals, Blaine's heir.

"What about you?" he asked then. Blaine assumed a puzzled expression.

"What do you mean?"

Kurt hesitated. He felt as if he should have planned that sort of conversation before actually having it with Blaine, but it was too late for that.

"I mean... do you plan on trying again? With... with another slave?"

The question seemed to unsettle Blaine, who shifted in Kurt's embrace only to assume the same position as before. He looked away briefly before answering – a clear sign that he was uncomfortable.

"I... I don't think I should" he whispered. Kurt cursed himself for stirring the conversation toward such a sad and touchy subject, when moments before they had been laughing and exchanging teasing jokes. He couldn't let that slide without inquiring a little further, though.

"Because it's too soon, you mean?" he prompted encouragingly. "I think so too, I meant it in general when I asked you-"

"It's not just that" Blaine interrupted him. "I... think it would be irresponsible of me – of us. We risk our lives every day, Kurt. We risk our people's lives every day. I should have waited for this to be over from the start, before trying with Tina. She would be alive now."

Kurt sighed.

"When will you stop beating yourself up over this?" he murmured, stroking Blaine's cheek sweetly. Blaine gave a nervous exhale and closed his eyes, allowing Kurt's thumb to brush against his soft dark eyelashes.

"It's just the truth" he replied after a while, opening them again. "I was in such a hurry to have an heir, that I didn't consider the dangers this trip would entail. After the war is over, I guess I could... try again."

Kurt stared at him silently for a couple of seconds. He didn't mean to say it, he didn't want to say it, but-

But it was something that had secretly nagged at him right from the beginning, as the differences between them accumulated on top of one another; as Blaine, city after city, palace after palace, found himself struggling for air like a chained dragon. And as the end approached, Kurt felt the impatient breath of fate on his neck, urging him to make the question, to find out and be done with it.

"After you're back in the Dothraki Sea, you mean."

Blaine stared at him just as intently, his honey-colored eyes unfaltering.

"That's not what I said" was what he came up with at last.

"Is it what you meant, though?"

Blaine gripped his own curls for a second in the tell-tale gesture that signaled his uneasiness.

"Can't we just cross that bridge when we come to it?" he asked almost pleadingly, but Kurt insisted. He didn't know if he could actually take the answer, but he went on anyway.

"Westeros is right across the sea, Blaine. We are crossing the bridge."

"I don't know, okay?" Blaine said, his voice louder and exasperated in his sudden, instinctual outburst – but then he calmed down, his next words careful and slow. "I never even saw Westeros – God, before I met you I barely knew it existed. I didn't care that it existed. All my life, I was taught that everything outside the Dothraki Sea didn't matter. But then you came, and you showed me so many places, with houses and streets and gardens and things I didn't even know men could make. I don't think I've ever thanked you for that – for opening my mind, for making me see the world for what it is. But now that I know how big it is, I feel lost in it. All I know is that I love you, moon of my life. I love you more than anything I could ever find in this big mysterious world of yours. Is this enough for you, for now? To know that my heart and body and soul are yours forever, no matter what?"

After a second of wide-eyed wonder, Kurt hugged him tightly, burying his face in Blaine's neck and shuddering.

It is, he thought. Blaine stroked his hair and held him close, and somehow he knew he didn't need to say it.

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They left Pentos soon after. Sandy shed some tears, and promised to visit once the war for the Iron Throne would be over. He also provided Kurt with a fairly large amount of money, ignoring his reluctance about it – Kurt thought it had to do with his guilt more than his generosity, but still, it would be quite useful in the weeks to come. Before leaving, though, he kept his promise and showed Sandy the dragons; as an afterthought, he invited Sam too. Despite Kurt's reassurances, the Pentoshi old man kept his distance, feeling content with just the sight of them and refusing to actually touch them. Sam did touch them, instead. And as his bright awed eyes stared at every one of them in turn, Kurt saw them lighten up when they landed on Rhaegal. The green-and-bronze dragon locked eyes with the Dornish prince, as if testing how long he would be able to endure it – and regardless of whether he passed that kind of test or not, to Kurt it was long enough. He may have found his third rider, after all.

There was no time to think about the joys of dragon-riding though, nor to have someone make the saddles he'd wanted. The dragons flew overhead as the Dornish fleet took to the sea, their wings full of wind like big leathery sails. He would practice at riding Drogon – and try and convince Blaine and Sam to join him perhaps – once they were in Dorne, the first glimpse of Westeros he would ever had. It felt right, to know it was the part his mother came from, even though it was far from King's Landing, which was more or less at the center of the continent.

As excited as he was at the thought, a small part of him couldn't help but look back at all the cities he'd had to call home during his early years on the run with Sebastian. That part of him led him to go aft and look at the coast they were slowly leaving behind them, its details and contours gradually getting lost in the distance as the sea claimed the space all around, until all that remained was the shimmering blue of its waters and the much lighter blue of the sky above. After all, Westeros was still too far to be seen, so he might as well take a moment to say goodbye to his past instead of greeting a future that wasn't even in front of his eyes yet.

Blaine – and Dothraki in general – remained at the center of the ship, where he wasn't forced to actually see water all the time (Kurt thought the incident in the Sorrows had something to do with it, too, but he never mentioned it); soon, a few hours into the trip, Finn and Sam came on the deck and joined them. It had turned out that Finn hadn't known of Sam's existence either, because the Dornishman had been born after Finn's exile from the Bear Island to escape the Claringtons. Finn had known that Kurt had an uncle in Dorne, of course, but since that uncle had already died when they met on Kurt's wedding day, he had never brought it up, assuming that Kurt knew about him anyway.

"So, how are things in the Seven Kingdoms?" Finn asked Kurt's cousin, his eyes glimmering with excitement at being able to finally talk to someone who came from there.

"Not so good, if I have to be honest" Sam replied, his blonde hair streaming behind him in the wind, giving him a fairytale heroic appearance. "Well, they're good, if we consider them from our point of view."

"What do you mean?"

"Let's just say the Claringtons are not that great at public relations" the prince explained, directing a knowing grin toward Kurt, who was just approaching them. "The taxes are too high, and people are unhappy. Even so, the crown is deeply indebted to the Iron Bank of Braavos because of the money it's been forced to spend to try and suppress the revolt of the Northmen – to no avail, so far."

"The revolt of the Northmen?" Kurt asked him, leaning against the parapet. Blaine was standing near the main mast of the ship, looking at them curiously – Kurt knew he would have to explain a few details of the conversation to him later, but he didn't mind. He liked to teach Blaine things, especially so after Blaine had thanked him for all the things he'd learned since leaving the Dothraki Sea.

"It's been going on for a couple of months now" Sam answered him, his grin fading into something melancholic. "They rose up when King Hunter had the Lord of Winterfell's head chopped off; they want revenge for it, and to be independent from the Iron Throne as they were before Aegon's conquest."

"He beheaded the Lord of Winterfell? Why?" Finn asked, his expression a mask of outrage and horror.

"Nobody knows the true reason" Sam told him in an almost apologetic tone, as if he'd killed the man himself. "All I know is that he'd gone to King's Landing to speak to the king in person, about something very important going on at the Wall. The meeting was private. Whatever it was, I suppose the king didn't like it. Now his son leads his army, and stiles himself King in the North."

The Wall was a massive wall of ice built across the northern border of the Seven Kingdoms to protect them from the wildlings living beyond it and – the legends said – from all kinds of terrible creatures: mammoths, giants, skinchangers. Whenever Sebastian had talked to him about it, he'd always emphasized how useless it seemed to him, since he didn't believe in any of those things.

What could have happened, to lead the Lord of Winterfell himself to go all the way to the capital and ask for help? Kurt didn't know. But he wasn't interested in finding out just yet.

"Another enemy of the Claringtons" he reflected, pursing his lips deep in thought. "We should send him a message from Sunspear, offer to ally with him."

His cousin fixed him with a worried expression.

"Are you sure? If we do it, you'll have to grant them the independence they want after the war is over."

"He has a point" Finn agreed, crossing his arms over his chest. "You'd lose the North, khalees. That's a great part of Westeros. We could wait for the revolt to crash the Claringtons instead, and then suppress it."

Kurt knew Finn was being practical, and that, militarily speaking, that was the best option. Still, it made his nostrils flare.

"I'm not going to take back my father's throne by killing tired and wounded men fighting for their executed lord. How convenient would that seem, if we had them do the dirty work and then go and save the day? That's not how I planned this, Finn. I'd rather lose the North than being hated by it for the rest of my days."

Finn and Sam stared at each other, as if gathering the strength to accept his decision by sharing it between themselves. After a moment of silence, it seemed to work, because their shoulders relaxed visibly and they nodded in understanding. Kurt felt grateful for it, and exhilarated in a way. He would be a real sovereign soon, and it was nice to see that his word already meant something, and was received with the respect it should inspire in people.

"We'll send a message, then" Sam agreed. The debate seemed to be over, but Kurt could see that Finn was thinking about something, turning it over in his head. He got a deeply concentrated expression when he did that, as if his whole face was frowning instead of just his forehead.

"The Iron Bank of Braavos, you said?" he asked Sam eventually. The prince nodded, staring at him curiously.

"Why?" he prompted when Finn didn't answer right away.

"How about... how about we extinguish the crown's debt, and ask the Bank not to lend the Claringtons money anymore?" he formulated slowly, as if repeating the sentence in his head to be sure it made sense. "We would help the rebels, who would be more inclined to ally with us, and weaken the Iron Throne in the process. We have plenty of money to spend."

Sam looked impressed.

"It's not a bad idea, actually" he replied, "but why should the Bank accept? Its interest rates are so high that it's convenient for it to keep lending money."

"Not if there's no guarantee that they will be repaid" Kurt put in, raising an eyebrow. "Once I take the throne, I won't have any obligation to extinguish the debt. And I doubt Hunter Clarington will be able to do it from his grave."

Blaine, Finn and Sam chuckled, exchanging proud glances that were all for Kurt, each one in its own way. The pride of a lover, of a friend, and of a family member. It seemed to Kurt that the third kind had always been missing, even though he had never realized it consciously. Now that he knew what it looked like, he also knew that he had always needed it.

"I'll have another message sent to Braavos, then" Sam concluded with a grin, but Kurt held up a hand to stop him.

"I'd rather deal with this in person, before word of our landing reaches the capital and the king finds a way to secure the bank's loyalty to him before we can. If we have to do this, I want to go to Braavos first."

He'd lived in the city-state once, in a house with a red door framed with tangled vines blooming with jasmine flowers. It was beautiful, full of life and hopes and dreams that met and brushed against one another in the many harbors of the city, which was made up of a myriad of small islands linked to one another by stone bridges. Unlike the other Free Cities, Braavos wasn't a former Valyrian colony: it had been founded by refugees escaping from the dragonlords' expansion. For that reason, its culture was a mixture of hundreds of cultures, and all the gods conceived by men had their own temples to be worshipped in. To ten-year-old wide-eyed Kurt, it had looked like the center of the world.

Geographically speaking, however, it was many miles North of the center of the world, and of Pentos, occupying a lagoon on the northwestern end of Essos. Basically, it meant that they had to turn the ships around. Except for Blaine, whose refusal to learn how to read maps meant that he couldn't know where exactly Braavos was, Kurt could see understandable reluctance in the other men's eyes.

"Khalees, it would mean..." Finn began.

"...making the trip longer, I know" Kurt concluded.

"...how longer?" Blaine asked quietly, trying not to show that his fear of water was the reason behind his asking.

"Some ten days longer, I think" Sam supposed, looking up as if counting in his head. Kurt saw Blaine swallow back exasperation, and a vague sense of guilt settled in his chest.

He almost drowned, he recalled.

"We won't go if you're not okay with it" he murmured.

Blaine looked startled, as if surprised at being included so straightforwardly into the conversation. Kurt hated how excluded he must feel, now that all they talked about was Westerosi culture, religion, politics, geography. He knew how it felt, not to belong. He knew how it felt to look at half-naked women dancing and writhing on the sand and see men fight to the death for the right to take them without even asking, only to see those same women laugh and revel in it. In a way, he thought it was how those conversations felt for Blaine.

"It's important" Blaine said, Sam and Finn staring at the exchange in silence.

"You are important" Kurt told him, eyes locked on Blaine's. He could feel Sam's eyes on him, feel his fascination at how close they actually were. He supposed he should get used to it, because that was how people would always react. They were a really special, unique couple, he realized. There was no another couple like them in the world. He had always known, but that settled it somehow.

"Ten days won't kill me" Blaine decided after a long thinking pause, giving Kurt one of those toothless smiles that meant I love you.

Afterwards, Kurt asked him again, when they were alone in their cabin. He wanted to be sure Blaine hadn't lied just to show that he wasn't afraid. Despite his insistence, Blaine assured him that it was fine. There was no way of telling how fine it really was, but Blaine was unmovable in his resolve.

And so they went.

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The Titan of Braavos announced their arrival with a loud blast filling the air from above. The enormous statue, whose feet were planted on two separate islands, loomed over the canal from which the ships entered the lagoon. His eyes flared with bright red fires that served as natural lighthouses to the approaching fleets, and one of his arms was thrust up into the sky holding the hilt of a broken sword. Drogon, Rhaegal and Viserion perched on the rocks on either side of the monument, staring silently like freshly carved gargoyles as the ship Kurt was on sailed past the Titan's stone thighs.

Beyond its frame, Braavos greeted them with the buzzing, bursting, vibrating sounds of ships coming and going, of people selling fish and crabs and all kinds of goods, of sailors speaking in all the languages and dialects of the known world. As their ship made its way through the Ragman's Harbor, Kurt pointed at the various temples he saw and named them for Blaine.

"That's the temple of the Many-Faced God" he said, pointing at a huge dark grey stone building with no windows and a black tile roof. "He is a god of death, exclusively. His worshippers believe that all the people in the world are offered the gift of death by the same deity, just in different incarnations. In the Faith of the Seven, in Westeros, his name is the Stranger."

Blaine listened attentively, his nose wrinkling adorably when something struck him as odd or difficult to understand.

"The gift of death?"

Kurt nodded.

"They believe death is a merciful end to suffering. Whoever desires to die can go to the temple, drink from its black pools, and have a painless death."

"That's... weird" Blaine commented, staring at the building with a frown. "I don't think I agree with them. It's too easy, to choose not to live anymore. Don't you think?"

"I guess you're right" Kurt said, shrugging. "I've always found it fascinating, though."

Next was the Sept-Beyond-The-Sea, the only temple dedicated to the Seven located outside of Westeros' borders. The third temple Kurt saw hadn't been there when he'd lived in Braavos, or maybe he had never noticed it. He couldn't place which faith it belonged to.

"That is... uhm..." he tried, staring at the fiery red brick building with a puzzled frown.

"That is the Red Temple of R'hllor" Sam provided for him, his face unnaturally grim and worried for a man that seemed to be permanently hopeful and optimistic – at least to Kurt. "It's a new religion coming from Asshai and quickly spreading throughout the East. There are a few believers in Westeros too, I think. I don't like it."

"How so?" Kurt asked, brimming with curiosity. Religions in general were a very interesting subject to him.

"They're not very... open-minded" Sam explained, visibly not sharing Kurt's enthusiasm in dealing with the subject. "The Red Priests do nothing but blabber about the fact that R'hllor is the only true God, and all the others are impostors. They say some very weird things, too. They claim the Red God shows them visions of the future in their fires, and speak of a prophecy about some 'prince that was promised', who's going to save the world from eternal cold and darkness waking dragons out of stone."

All three of them turned around on instinct to stare at Kurt's dragons perched beside the Titan in the distance, at the far edge of the lagoon.

"...oh" was the only thing Kurt managed to say, swallowing hard.

"I don't believe them, but feel free to, if you like" his cousin offered, winking with mischief. That being said, he left them to go talk to the captain of the ship.

"Save the world from eternal cold and darkness, uh?" Blaine repeated after a while, sounding amused.

"Oh, shut up" Kurt snapped at him playfully.

Still, he wondered.

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"It was a pleasure to make business with you" the mellifluous banker they had been directed to said as he shook Kurt's hand at the end of their meeting. "I hope you'll come to us after your coronation, if you find yourself in trouble. Wars are costly, after all. The Iron Bank of Braavos is at your service."

Kurt thanked him kindly but stiffly, hoping he would never need that kind of help from anyone, let alone that bank. Famous for changing sides in conflicts and claiming repayments in rather, let's say, unconventional ways, the Iron Bank was a useful friend and a terrible enemy to have. The contract they signed had a secrecy clause attached to it, but when the banker asked him what he would have to say to the king to motivate the bank's refusal of a new loan, Kurt answered him: "Tell him it was a gift from someone he will see very soon."

Darkness was descending like a veil upon the world when they sealed the deal and stepped out of the bank to make their way to the harbor once again, walking down the narrow streets of the main Braavosi island. Yellow lanterns swayed from wooden poles along the walls of the houses, and all around the Red Temple big circular braziers were being lit by priests wearing long loose red tunics that hid their feet and hands. Kurt, Blaine, Finn and Sam happened to walk alongside the yard where the fires were burning, and hear their prayers to R'hllor.

"R'hllor, you are the light in our eyes, the fire in our hearts, the heat in our loins. Yours is the sun that warms our days, yours the stars that guard us in the dark of night" one priest intoned, soon followed by a murmured yet perfectly comprehensible collective chant.

"Lord of Light, defend us. Lord of Light, protect us."

The priest went on, raising his hands to the sky as the flames burned upwards. In the light created by them, Kurt realized he had similar flames tattooed upon his cheeks all the way to his forehead, which seemed to dance and shift as the real ones. The thought made him shiver in a quiet and private sort of fear.

"R'hllor who gave us breath, we thank you. R'hllor who gave us day, we thank you."

As silently as possible, they tried to walk by unobserved, but the man turned around in their direction and stared openly at them – at Kurt, to be precise. He was an old man, his hair turning grey and white, and his skin was black like Mercedes'; he was probably a Summer Islander, just like her.

"Azor Ahai!" he shouted, running toward Kurt all of a sudden. "It's Azor Ahai born again! It's the prince that was promised!"

Kurt took a step back on instinct, while the men accompanying him all put their hands to the hilts of their respective weapons, watching the priest with growing suspicion. The priest seemed to realize he had scared them, because he stopped before he could actually touch Kurt. The orange and red flames on his face shifted as his mouth split into a smile that lit up the night with the whiteness of his perfect teeth.

"The Lord of Light showed me a vision of you and your dragons, Your Highness! He sent you to defeat the long night, creature of the Great Other who shall never be named!"

A small crowd of acolytes gathered behind and around the black-skinned priest, looking at Kurt in wonder. It was clear they believed every single word the man was saying.

"I- I'm sorry, I don't- I have no idea what you're talking about. You must be mistaken" Kurt tried to tell him, but the man shook his head vehemently. His next words were calm and deliberate though, talking with a wisdom that was foreign to Kurt.

"The Lord of Light never fails. You're Azor Ahai reborn, the child of fire, the burning sword in the hand of the great R'hllor."

The priest took his hand then, gently, and led him to one of the braziers. Kurt gestured for Blaine and the others not to intervene, but they stayed close behind him, their features sharp and untrusting. The man stopped in front of the flames and prompted Kurt to look at them.

"What do you see?" he asked.

"Fire" Kurt replied, squinting against the heat that was making his eyes water. "What is there to see?"

"I see a boy riding a dragon cloaked in darkness. I see a battle, a long battle in the snow."

"It doesn't snow where I am going" Kurt told him, referring to King's Landing. The man smiled at him condescendingly, as if tenderly acknowledging his naivety.

"You are talking about another battle, I know. But that battle is secondary" he explained to him softly, placing a hand on Kurt's shoulder. "It will give you what you want, yes, but it will also take something from you in return. Like the first Azor Ahai, who defeated the darkness during the Long Night, you shall make a sacrifice to win it."

Kurt pulled back from his touch as if he'd been burned by it.

"What are you talking about? What- what did he do?"

"He was asked to forge Lightbringer, the sharpest and hardest sword ever forged. The first time, he worked at it for thirty days and nights; then he tried to temper it in water, but it broke. The second time, he worked at it for fifty days and nights; then he killed a lion and drove the sword through his heart, but the steel shattered all the same. The third time, he worked at it for a hundred days and nights, his heart heavy, for he knew what he must do to make the sword unbreakable. When it was finished, he summoned his wife, Nissa Nissa, and asked her to bare her breast. He drove it into her living heart, and her soul combined with the steel of the sword."

Horrified, Kurt took another step away from him, almost tripping on his feet. He felt panicked all of a sudden, cornered, put in front of some twisted truth he didn't want to know. He didn't want to know about this man, this probably made-up hero of thousands of years before who'd killed his wife to accomplish some kind of holy mission. He wasn't him. He would never do that to someone he loved. He would never do that to Blaine.

"I- I'm not him, you are mistaken, I'm sorry" he stammered, turning around to leave, shocked Blaine and Finn and Sam hurrying up to follow him.

"Yours will be a different sacrifice, but a sacrifice all the same" the man informed him, but he did nothing to stop Kurt from leaving. "And just like Azor Ahai's, it will make you strong enough to face what really matters, the long night that never ends. If you fail, the world fails with you. For the night is dark, and full of terrors."