"Why does a king need an iron chair?" Blaine asked curiously, like a child failing to understand the simplest thing and asking the same question over and over again. Which was basically what was happening.

Kurt was sitting behind him on their mat of furs, his legs spread with Blaine between them, combing his wet black curls with his fingers for the sake of it and pretending to himself that they really came out better like that, while the truth was that it didn't change a thing. He just liked to do it. Plus, Blaine was much more pliant when Kurt was touching his hair, he had discovered.

"It's not a chair. It's a..." – Kurt paused, switching to the Common Tongue when the word in Dothraki didn't occur to him – "...throne."

"What is a throne?" Blaine asked then, the word slow and foreign on his tongue.

"Well, it is... okay, it is a chair, but for kings only. A big chair from which a king commands."

Blaine turned around in his lap, a thick curl escaping Kurt's fingers with the motion. Drops of water were still clinging to the hair on his forehead, and his skin was damp from the bath he had taken on their last day in Vaes Dothrak. Kurt wanted them to go back to Pentos and sail on the narrow sea; Blaine wanted to keep raiding the desert, since Sebastian had died and with him the promise made to him by the khal.

"Kings command from horses, not chairs" Blaine said stubbornly. "And the water you want to cross is poisonous."

Dothraki feared the salt sea, because horses couldn't drink its water. There was something very wrong with that, in their mind.

"It's not" Kurt replied. "We can use big wooden horses to ride on it, so big that they can carry all your khalasar to Westeros. Men in the Seven Kingdoms do it all the time."

"And how can you control a big wooden horse?" Blaine asked, mistrust and suspicion plain on his face. "How can he ride on water if it swallows him?"

"It doesn't-"

Kurt was interrupted by someone entering the tent. It was David.

"The khalasar is ready to go, my Khal" he said to Blaine, before disappearing once again.

"To go? Where?" Kurt asked as Blaine stood up and turned around towards him. The khal smiled.

"It is time for my khalees to see what Dothraki are really made of" he said. Kurt didn't like the sound of that at all.

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Sand and dust swirled around them as they entered the city, or better, what had been one only an hour before, when Blaine's outriders sent for exploration had come back to him to tell him its position. The khal and his warriors had left the caravan then, leaving Kurt with Finn, the slaves, the children and the old men, with those who couldn't fight and rob and rape.

The battle was over now, and Kurt wondered if it had been a battle at all. Wherever he looked, he could see dead people, but not a single one of them looked like a Dothraki. Men, women and children lay scattered among the remains of their little huts and shops, which looked like someone had stomped right on top of them.

"Look away" Finn said as they slowly led their horses amidst the destruction. The air echoed of cries of pain and despair and smelled of blood and death. And fire.

"No" Kurt said, his gaze shifting from a dead body to another, from a shattered house to the next. "This is what they do, what he does. I want to look."

He had known it all along, but seeing it was different. And even though he hadn't killed anyone, he was a Dothraki too, in a way, which made him feel like he had somehow. It was a strange, dull feeling in his chest, a distant throb of sadness.

When they reached a big open space, probably what once had been the market square, Kurt saw a naked girl screaming and crying in a corner, a Dothraki warrior holding her face down in the dust and pounding into her. She had long golden hair and milky skin, but he couldn't see her face.

"Stop!" Kurt shouted from his horse, approaching the disgusting scene. The Dothraki ignored him.

"Khalees, I know this is awful, but when Dothraki sack a city, each one of them takes something for himself. No one can take that from him" Finn explained, his face incredibly sad.

"I don't care" Kurt snapped. "I won't let this happen right before my eyes."

He didn't know why it mattered so much, when all around him there were people either dead or dying, but while that was something he wouldn't have been able to avoid, this, this rape, was still happening, and it was in his power to do something.

"I said stop!" he repeated, climbing down from his horse. He heard Finn gasp, and knew that he was climbing down, too, to protect him.

The Dothraki raised his head and stopped his pounding, his grip on the girl's hair unfaltering. He had more burns than tattoos, Kurt noticed. His chest was an ugly, red mess of scars healed badly, a grotesque imitation of the beautiful drawings on Blaine's chest.

"This is none of your business, boy" the man said with a mocking grin.

"Boy?" Finn spoke up, his hand on the hilt of his sword. "It is your khalees you are talking to!"

"Then he should know this is my prize" the Dothraki spat back. The girl whimpered softly from the ground.

"And you should know that I can command you whatever I decide to" Kurt said. "Let her go, now. I'm taking her as my slave."

There was nothing else he could do; the girl had no one left anyway, and to free her meant to show himself weak and merciful, something the man wouldn't comprehend. This, instead, was taking, and as a superior member of the khalasar, he was allowed to do it.

The Dothraki looked at him with hatred and resentment, spat on the ground, and eased himself out of the girl. She curled up sobbing, her arms and legs dirty with mud and blood, her face still hidden.

"The Khal will ear of this" the rapist promised, pulling up his trousers and storming away.

"Rachel, Mercedes, take care of her" Kurt ordered to his slaves, who had remained close behind and silent, surely trembling at the memory of how they'd lost their freedom. It was another thing Kurt wondered about, but never asked of. Santana, as most of the time, was nowhere to be found.

The girls approached with their head bowed and kneeled next to the girl, whispering nonsensical soothing things in her ear until she trusted them enough to lift her head. She was very pretty, with freckles underneath the dirt left on her cheeks, which was sliding away with her tears. Rachel covered her with a big brown cloth and helped her to her feet.

"T-thank you" the girl whispered to Kurt in the Common Tongue, her eyes watery and grateful. Kurt felt his heart grew a little larger.

"What's your name?" he asked her.

"Brittany."

"I'm sorry that happened to you, Brittany. I promise you it will never happen again." He smiled reassuringly. "What are you good at? So I will know how you can serve me."

"My mother is- was a healer" Brittany said, biting her lip at the mistake and pulling the cloth tighter around herself. "I helped her with healing herbs and stuff like that, I was pretty good."

"Well, I hope I'll never need your help, but you could be useful. Go now."

Rachel and Mercedes led her away, back to the column of slaves who were slowly making their way inside the city, to bathe her and find something for her to wear. Kurt climbed back on his horse, and Finn did the same. They started marching again.

"It was very brave, what you did" Finn said.

"Is it brave to watch all this happen?" Kurt asked. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned to see Finn smiling sadly at him.

"It is the way of the world. Men in the Seven Kingdoms fight for lands and honor. Dothraki fight for gold and food and women. When you reach Westeros to take back your throne, people will die, too."

Kurt lowered his head and nodded minutely. It was true. So very true. He wished it was different, that he could make his appearance in King's Landing and woo the entire realm and make everyone love him without a single sword being raised, but people didn't know him. As much as his father was loved, sixteen years had passed, and men forgot all too easily. He would take back what was his with fire and blood, and then gain the trust and affection of his people.

Across from them, on the other side of the market square, there was a big pale brown structure made of stones piled on top of each other, separated by lines of caked mud dried under the sun. Kurt figured it was a temple, since there were two statues guarding the entrance. They looked like sitting lambs, or goats, Kurt wasn't sure. When he spotted Wes entering the temple, he knew who was inside. The bloodriders never left their khal's side for too long.

The temple's interiors had been destroyed like the rest, and the poor offerings made to whatever god it was dedicated to had been collected in two big piles, to the left and to the right of a gigantic stone chair where Kurt found Blaine sitting. A stone lamb's head, separated from the body, lay at his feet.

"Throne!" Blaine exclaimed when he saw Kurt approaching, raising his hands in the air. He was covered in crusted sand and blood, sweat trickling down his temples and black make up smudged around his eyes, looking more dangerous and more beautiful than ever. "Now I understand. I like it."

Kurt wanted to snap a bitter remark at that, but when he walked closer to Blaine, he saw a red angry gash on his chest, fresh blood licking out from it.

"My sun-and-stars is hurt!" he said, rushing forward to kneel in front of him and take a closer look. No matter what Blaine had done – how many people had all that blood belonged to? –, he had felt a stab of apprehension at the sight all the same. That was his man, his king, his husband, no one had ever defeated him and no one ever would, and Kurt felt strangely proud of him for it. He couldn't stand the thought of Blaine being hurt, or dying.

He couldn't stand the thought of them being set apart.

"It's nothing" Blaine said dismissively, carding his fingers through Kurt's locks and then reaching down to cup his cheek and lift his head. He had never been so openly affectionate in public before. "I'm okay, moon of my life."

Kurt smiled and opened his mouth to reply, but a shout from the entrance preceded him.

"I want her back!" the Dothraki from before shouted, storming through the hall and pointing at Kurt with a threatening finger. "I took her first, she's mine by right!"

Kurt felt Blaine stiffen sharply, and an arm reached protectively around his waist, leading him to sit down on the armrest of the throne.

"No one talks to my khalees like that" Blaine said firmly, his arm tightening around Kurt's middle, staining it with blood. Kurt didn't care.

"I was taking a Lamb girl I found and he claimed her as his slave" the man explained, his tone calmer and more controlled. Kurt smirked. The man was scared of Blaine.

"Did he, now?" Blaine asked, turning to look at Kurt with a secret glint of pride in his eyes. The man mistook it for disappointment and spoke up again.

"The horse doesn't bend to the lamb!"

"And the dragon eats horses and lambs alike" Kurt declared, lifting his chin. Blaine laughed.

"Oh, just look at him" he said, stroking Kurt's hip possessively. "Look at how proud and fierce he's become."

"But he-"

"Enough! You will take something from one of these piles to make up for what you have lost. And you will treat my khalees with the respect he deserves. Understood?"

The man lowered his head, fuming silently. "Yes."

When he left the temple, Blaine tried to stand up from the throne, but Kurt saw him wincing and gritting his teeth at the movement, more blood coming down from the wound on his chest.

"Blaine" he whispered, to make sure no one heard him addressing the khal like that. "Your wound-"

"-is fine" Blaine insisted sullenly, standing up with a pained expression. "I've ordered one of my slaves to bring a cloth and wrap it around it."

Kurt stared at him in disbelief.

"And that is all? It could get infected!" A sudden thought occurred to him. "Let me call my new slave, she says she's good at healing wounds."

"The Lamb girl?" Blaine shook his head. "She will probably kill me for what happened to her."

"She owes me, she would never do that" Kurt replied fiercely.

"Still, I won't let her touch me. Keep her as a slave if you like, but keep her away from me" Blaine said, disgusted. It seemed like the Dothraki hadn't a great opinion of this Lamb people. Kurt decided to let it go. For now.

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Their next stop was a market, a wind-swept square literally in the middle of nothing, but full of stands and colors and people. Life. Riding through the desert had made Kurt feel as if he wasn't on earth anymore, but in a red waste of nothingness with no borders to reach or cross.

The Dothraki wanted to trade some of the things they had found in the sacked city, so Blaine had sent some of them to the market while the khalasar settled down close by under the early afternoon sun. Kurt had obtained his permission to go, too, accompanied by Finn for protection.

He loved markets: the way the shouts of merchants and the laughter of people in the streets mingled together to create a dissonant song, a buzz that filled his ears while he walked. He didn't want to buy anything, he just wanted to feel the thrum of life around him again. He had heard Dothraki laughing only in Vaes Dothrak – with the exception of Blaine –, and he missed the sound.

His appearance soon caught the attention of sellers: it seemed like the rumors of the most powerful Khal's marriage had spread, and many people wanted to talk to him or offer him something as a wedding gift, making sure to mention the name of their village or city so that Kurt could say it to Blaine and grant them mercy should the khalasar run into it one day. Kurt accepted kindly, his arms slowly filling with jars of milk and exotic fruits, a lighthearted smile on his lips. Finn followed him silently, eyeing every man with suspicion, but Kurt felt strangely safe.

"Khalees, what a pleasure to finally meet you!" a merchant shouted at him from a stand of wine jars. "Please, have a taste of my best summer wine."

He didn't wait for an answer and pulled out a cup from under the stand, filling it with the red liquid.

"You're very kind, sir" Kurt said, stopping in front of the stand. The man handed him the cup, an eager smile on his face.

"And one cup for your brave knight, too!" he exclaimed, lowering his head to look for another one to fill.

Kurt was just bringing his cup to his lips, balancing the previous gifts on his other arm, when he felt Finn's hand on his shoulder and stopped.

"Why don't you give us the jar so we can taste it later, just like everybody else did?" the knight asked the merchant.

"I just wanted him to tell me his opinion about it" the man said defensively. Too defensively. Kurt raised an eyebrow in suspicion.

"Then taste it yourself first" Finn went on, taking the cup from Kurt's fingers and offering it back to the man, who shook his head and turned red-faced and trembling. "No offense, it's just a precaution. I'm sure you have nothing to be worried about."

The man gaped at Finn like a fish out of the water, struggling for an answer.

"I- no, my lord, that can't be done, what a shame for a poor man like me to drink from a cup destined to a khalees!" was what he came up with. Kurt was officially worried.

"You could drink from this cup and then give me another one" he pointed out, frowning.

The man looked at him for a moment and then away, his gaze moving in all directions, through the stifling crowd which would surely give him quite a difficulty should he decided to run. In the end, he tried nonetheless.

Kurt didn't see the jar of wine flying in his direction until it almost crashed against his face, but thankfully, Finn did. The knight threw himself at him and pulled him down in time, the two of them ending up in a heap on the ground among spilled wine and crashed fruits. The jar flew above their heads and ended up in pieces behind them. Meanwhile, the man was already running, elbowing through the crowd. He disappeared in an instant.

"Are you alright, khalees?" Finn asked while standing up, a hand coming down to help Kurt to his feet. Kurt brushed the dust from his lower body and nodded, a little shaken by what had just happened.

"Then I'm going after him" Finn declared, pulling out his sword, but before he could leave they saw Dothraki men running toward where the merchant had disappeared, arakhs ready in their hands, shouting obscenities. They had probably seen the scene from afar, and knew how the man looked like.

"Let them take care of it" Kurt said, watching them turn a corner. He paused and added "Was the wine poisoned?"

"For sure" Finn replied sadly. "It was just an uneasy, suspicious feeling at the beginning, but when he refused to drink, I knew."

"But why?" Kurt asked helplessly. Had Sebastian been right all along? Were there really people paid to find them and kill them? "We're so far away from the narrow sea, I thought I was safe."

"I thought so, too" Finn said. "But the Claringtons are likely to have established a reward for your head, and these merchants travel all the way from the Free Cities, some of them surely know of it by now. He didn't look like a professional, he wasn't good at lying. I think he just wanted the money. And he had to make you drink it here, so he could take your body back to Westeros. That's why he didn't simply give you the jar. And when he saw me, he tried to poison me as well."

Kurt nodded silently and lowered his head. He sighed.

"Let's go back. I'm tired."

The markets lost just a bit of their charm that day.

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He heard the shouts from outside the tent, a powerful voice booming and echoing in the air like thunder. The last storm Kurt had witnessed had happened long before, but he remembered the sound.

"WHERE IS HE?" Blaine was shouting angrily. "WHERE IS THE MAN WHO DARED HARM HIM?"

Whatever answer the other occupants were going to give him died in their throats when Kurt entered. Blaine stared at him as if he didn't believe Kurt was there, a wild look in his eyes, like that of a caged animal gone mad. His arms shook, the bandage around his shoulder and chest shifting restlessly with the motion. He was terrified, and Kurt's heart broke.

He loves me, in his own way. He does.

"Are you alright, moon of my life?" Blaine asked, crossing the tent in one swift motion and then cupping Kurt's face in his hands. Kurt could feel him shaking now.

"I am" he said, covering Blaine's hands with his. "I'm here, look at me, I'm here."

"I thought I had lost you" Blaine said, and for a moment he looked down at his lips as if he wanted to kiss Kurt, but reconsidered. "I thought I'd never see you again."

And I love him, too.

"You don't have to be scared anymore, my sun-and-stars" Kurt replied, blinking away the moisture in his eyes. The realization had left him breathless and dizzy, but he couldn't let Dothraki men see him cry. He was their king, too.

"The man is tied to the back of my horse, my Khal" said one of the Dothraki, heedless of the moment he was interrupting. "I didn't kill him, to let you decide what to do with him."

Blaine recomposed himself in an instant, and when he turned around, he was the ruthless Khal once again. He crossed the tent and sat back on his wood and leather chair.

"Finn Hudson" he spoke up, jaw set. "Do you know why he tried to kill my khalees?"

"Yes, my Khal" Finn said with a little bow. "To take his body before the usurper king of Westeros, who wants the khalees dead."

Blaine's hands closed into fists on the armrests, sending a jolt of pain to his scar. He tried to hide it, but Kurt knew him too much not to notice. He promised himself he would speak to him about it soon, trying to convince him to let Brittany tend to it.

"Then this is what I'll do" Blaine said suddenly, standing up from the chair and lifting his chin, strong and proud and beautiful. "I will lead my khalasar where no Khal has ever dared to, I will cross the poisonous waters of the salt sea, and I will tear this false king off his iron chair with my bare hands to give it back to my khalees. I will sack his cities, destroy his fields, enslave his people, and make his lords tremble and cry inside their castles of rocks. I, Khal Blaine, will do all of this!"

I am his as much as he is mine, Kurt thought, as the warriors around him erupted in excited cries of war. The prospect of spreading such destruction was enough to make them forget how much they hated the sea they had to cross. But Blaine was doing it for him.

The khalasar turned around that day, to head back to where it had all started. Kurt rode by Blaine's side, a new slave close by, and a naked, stumbling man with wrists and ankles tied to the back of his white horse.

He would be alright... as long as he kept walking.