NOVEL WEB Chapter 2: The beginning
The Rise of the Undead Khal
Adrenaline surged through my body, a natural response, yet dangerous when in a state as close to death as mine. Sleeping had always been a way to replay the day, and all I could see now was the pregnant teenager who was my sister in this strange, brutal new world. In my old world, I had protected my mother the only way I could—by ending her suffering. It worked then, but here? Here, I was a monster among monsters. The violence I was capable of had been laid bare for everyone to see. Through that display of savagery, I had carved out a place for her.
"My Khal," a woman's voice rang in my ears, too close for comfort. I opened my eyes to see a bronze-skinned woman leaning over me. Looking down slightly, her exposed chest came into view, ample and distracting. Her voice broke my focus as she spoke again.
"My Khal, your sister is in labor, and your blood riders are discussing whether to kill the child or throw it into the sea with its father," she said.
"Who are you?" I asked.
"Maria, my Khal," she answered.
"Hmm. Find me white paint," I ordered, raising my head from her lap and allowing her to leave the tent. Once she was gone, I forced myself upright, taking in the provisions left for me: dried meat and a bladder of some liquid. I opened it, the smell hitting me—milk, but sour and wrong. I took a swig and found it tolerable, drinking more before gnawing on the meat.
Maria returned quickly with a gourd containing a chalky substance. She mixed it with the milk to create a makeshift paint, then began applying designs to my dark skin. The white markings mimicked a skeleton, the contrast striking. Donning the shaman's horse skull headdress, I felt at home in this new body once more. The twin arakhs at my side completed the transformation.
Looking at Maria, I noticed the fear in her eyes.
"How do I look?" I asked, my voice rasping through the mask.
She jumped slightly before responding. "Terrifying, my Khal."
"Good," I retorted. "Now lead me to my sister."
As I followed Maria through the camp, I realized just how hormonal this body was. My focus lingered too long on her swaying figure as we walked. Around us, the Dothraki riders reacted to my appearance, some shocked, others grinning at the skeletal markings. Reaching a large tent surrounded by women and my blood riders, Maria announced our presence. One of the blood riders, a man towering over me by at least two heads, stepped forward and unsheathed his arakh, presenting it to me.
"Blood of my blood. I am Jogo, son of Gomon," he declared.
I gave him a brief glance before walking past him. One by one, the others followed suit, offering their weapons and names: Braga and Bejan, twin sons of Gaman; Kota, who claimed no father; and Doromon, son of Gop, a giant of a man who moved with surprising grace despite his size.
The old women guarding the tent—respected figures in the khalasar—blocked my path. One of them spoke with authority. "She is a Khaleesi, my Khal. She must be taken to Vaes Dothrak, and it is your duty as Khal to ensure it."
The silence that followed was palpable. Jogo's hand twitched toward his hilt, a movement that made my body tense instinctively. Relaxing, I raised the headdress, revealing my painted face and black eyes.
"Is my sister okay?" I asked, my voice steady but cold.
The elder hesitated before answering. "Yes, my Khal. The child was born hours ago. We awaited your arrival."
I stepped past her into the tent. My sister lay there, her curly hair damp with sweat. Her eyes met mine as I asked, "Are you alright?"
My tone was dry, almost unfeeling, but my eyes betrayed the truth: a longing for family and a fear of its fragility. She nodded. "I am fine."
"Good," I replied, turning to leave. At the entrance, I issued a command. "Doromon, no one touches her or the child. If they try, kill them."
Doromon nodded solemnly. "Blood of my blood."
As he entered the tent to stand guard, the old women protested, but he remained firm, an immovable boulder. I turned to the remaining blood riders.
"Let's see what you've got. If you're to bleed for me, prove your worth." I paused, glancing at my emaciated frame. "Maybe not today. First, food. Then prepare to leave for Vaes Dothrak in two weeks."
The four men flanked me as we walked back to my tent. The men who had pledged to follow me seemed uncertain, and I could see why. I was nothing but skin and bones. Jogo held the tent flap open for me, his empty eyes meeting mine—the eyes of a man who had nothing left to live for, yet could not die.
Inside, I was met with more food and drink than I had ever seen in my life, though it wasn't much by Dothraki standards or earth standards but it was a lot for someone who has never eaten more than what he needed to survive . Taking a seat on the pillows, women adorned with colored cloths brought dishes to me, while others, unadorned and likely slaves, hovered nearby.
"No. Maria, you alone," I ordered. The others dispersed as Maria knelt by my side, serving me what I pointed to. Minutes passed as I ate in silence, my head eventually resting on Maria's lap. With a wave of my hand, I allowed the others in the tent to feast.
The twin blood riders dragged women to their sides, drinking and laughing. Kota sat with a slave woman, his protectiveness over her unmistakable. Jogo remained stoic, eating sparingly and watching over me with those hollow eyes. When Maria began unbraiding my matted hair, the room fell silent. She worked carefully, washing away dirt and blood, then rebraiding it into neat dreadlocks. The twins, Kota and Jogo each offered a bell from their hair, symbols of loyalty. Maria braided them into mine: two silver, one jade, and one bronze.
Laying the finished braid on my chest, Maria's voice was barely a whisper. "The stallion who rode beyond death and back."
Her words were solemn, reverent, and filled with fear. I closed my eyes, letting the tent fill with the sounds of revelry. My blood riders wrestled, boasted, and claimed their conquests, yet I remained still. For now, this was enough. A fragile peace before the chaos to come. A family to protect in a world of violence and blood. My world. My khalasar.