*AEGON IV — THE KHAL WHO WOULD NOT KNEEL *
The Dothraki Sea. Noon.
Khal Pono had heard the rumors from the Yellow City. The silver queen lost her city. Her biggest dragon wounded. He was riding with 40,000 warriors to take Meereen's horses for himself when the wind changed.
Horses smelled it first. Smoke. Not grass smoke. Blood smoke.
Then the sky screamed.
Six shadows fell at once.
Drogon — black-red, twice the size he was at the pit — landed ahead of the khalasar, roaring, cracking the earth. Viserion and Rhaegal landed on his flanks, cream-gold and green-bronze, wings spread wide.
And behind them — Voidscale, big black with white chest, Aegnis ash-black like burnt wood, and Chaosfyre grey as stormcloud, all three screaming in a different tongue, younger, wilder.
40,000 Dothraki horses reared. A hundred riders fell. Bows went up.
Khal Pono did not stop. He was the blood of Khal Drogo's old kos. He had 50 bells in his beard.
He rode forward alone, arakh spinning.
"_Laz atthirar yeri!_ You are nothing! No riders! You ride lizards like slaves!"
Aegon, on Voidscale, understood enough. Maester Gawen had drilled him: Dothraki only respect strength.
Daenerys stood tall on Drogon's neck, silver hair whipping in dragon wind.
"_Anha Drogon! Anha Khaleesi! Athchomari shafkea!_ Kneel or burn!"
Pono spat. "Make me kneel, little girl!"
He screamed and 10,000 bloodriders screamed with him and charged.
It was a mistake.
"*DRAKON TUBIS!*" Aegon shouted in High Valyrian — dragon's tail formation.
Voidscale beat his wings and rose, Aegnis and Chaosfyre with him. Drogon rose opposite.
Six dragons made a circle in the air, above the charging Dothraki.
Then they dove.
First fire — Drogon, Viserion, Rhaegal burned the front line. Not men — the GRASS. A wall of fire 30 feet high exploded ahead of the horses. Horses slammed into each other, broke legs, threw riders. The smell was burnt horsehair and grass.
Then second fire — Voidscale, Aegnis, Chaosfyre burned the BACK of the khalasar. Now Pono's 40,000 were trapped in a burning ring, shrinking every second.
The Dothraki screamed louder than the dragons. Bows fired — arrows bounced off Voidscale's neck, made Aegnis shriek in rage. One arrow hit Aegon in the shoulder, shallow, hot blood.
Aegon yanked it out and roared: "_Dracarys, Aegnis! Dracarys!_"
Aegnis ash-black opened his mouth and gave a different fire — not red, but black-grey ash that choked. Men coughed blood. Chaosfyre grey gave white-hot fire that melted arakhs.
Daenerys saw the ring closing too fast — they would kill them all.
"_GERO!_" she shouted. "_Gero ilas!_"
Hold!
The dragons hovered, panting fire, holding the ring.
Pono's horse was dead under him, eyes boiled. Pono himself stood in the ash circle, his leather burning, bells melted into his beard. His arakh was dripping liquid iron.
Aegon landed Voidscale hard, right in front of Pono. He slid off, red katana drawn, ash-black and grey dragons behind him snarling.
Pono raised his melted arakh to fight.
Aegon cut it in half with one swing. The Valyrian katana sang.
He put the hot blade to Pono's throat.
"Kneel," Aegon said in broken Dothraki. "_Athchomari. Or next fire is you._"
Pono looked at the six dragons above, at the burning ring, at the boy with violet eyes and a sword too hot to touch.
He dropped to his knees.
Then, like grass bending in wind, 40,000 Dothraki knelt. Arakhs in dirt. Heads down.
The grass kept burning.
Daenerys landed, ran past Drogon, grabbed Aegon's bleeding shoulder.
"You are hurt!"
"We have our army," Aegon said, smiling through blood.
Dany turned to the kneeling sea of riders and shouted in Dothraki so loud her voice broke:
"_ATHDRIVAR! ANHAK MEEREEN ATHASTOKHARI!_"
Ride! You ride for Meereen now!