The red horse had barely drawn near when, before it even came to a halt, Drogo leapt down from the saddle. His towering frame moved with striking agility.
He strode forward in quick steps to his wife and child. After first glancing at his son—whom he had not seen for months and longed for deeply—Drogo then turned to Daenerys, his face full of apology.
"My moon of my life, forgive me."
"Why, my sun and stars?" Daenerys felt a sudden unease at the unexpected apology. "Did you fail to capture those sinners?"
"…Yes, my moon of my life. This time, I only managed to bring back most of them. One escaped our pursuit by some unknown means."
"And I must tell you this—of your three dragon eggs, I have only recovered two. The last one vanished along with that man, lost somewhere in the vast grasslands of the Dothraki Sea, never to be found again."
"For this, I regret that I have failed to keep my promise to you."
A gust of wind stirred Drogo's long beard. The small bells tied to the braid that hung down to his thigh chimed faintly, like a mournful lament.
His dark eyes met Daenerys's violet ones—yet could not hold them, filled as they were with guilt.
Part of it lay in the failed pursuit of the criminals.
But more than that, he knew well that the dragon eggs had been Daenerys's wedding gift—her most precious treasure.
And beyond that, the three eggs were meant as a gift for their child.
Yet now, not only had he failed to bring back the criminals who had desecrated the sacred place, he had also failed to keep his promise.
As a khal, he had rarely broken his word in his life—let alone a promise made to his moon of life and their newborn son.
He had broken his word. How could he not feel ashamed?
The feeling was like losing a duel and having his braid cut off—an unbearable humiliation.
And yet, no matter how far he had pursued them across the endless grasslands, he could not find the missing egg.
Even after slaughtering every village along the criminals' path, it remained lost.
Seeing Drogo's guilt, Daenerys paused for a moment, then set aside the faint disappointment in her heart.
She stepped forward and gently placed her hand on his face, feeling the coarse texture of his beard. Her eyes were soft with tenderness.
"Do not feel guilty, my sun and stars. Compared to that, there are things I care about far more."
"The dragon eggs are nothing but lifeless stones. But did you not say you would gift Rhaego the iron chair once sat upon by his mother's father? That is what truly matters."
"My family has lost everything it once possessed. But my son will reclaim it all—with his father's help."
"And you will not break that promise, will you?"
Seeing that Daenerys did not blame him—and had even forgiven him—Drogo raised his hand and gently covered hers.
The guilt on his face faded, replaced by solemn resolve.
"Yes, my moon of my life. I will give him the Seven Kingdoms. This is my oath and my promise."
"I have said it myself—I will give him the iron chair his mother's father once sat upon. I will not break my word again."
"And the reason I have returned this time is not only to gather my strength and ride west, nor to hunt down the last criminal I have yet to find…"
"But above all, it is to fulfill this!"
As he spoke, the guilt in his eyes vanished entirely, replaced by unwavering determination.
Then he suddenly turned and raised a hand in command.
All the members of the merchant caravan that had once departed from Vaes Dothrak were dragged out—every single one—by furious Dothraki warriors from the wagon cages originally meant for slaves.
Though they had understood their fate the moment they were captured, when they saw the Horse Gate looming before them, their terror became uncontrollable.
They did not even know what had happened.
They had merely finished their business in Vaes Dothrak and left, only to be pursued and captured days later by a khalasar.
They were not killed—only tortured, then imprisoned. Healers were even sent to treat their wounds, as if to ensure they did not die.
Only later did they learn why they had been attacked.
Someone had committed an unforgivable crime in Vaes Dothrak—drawing steel in the sacred city and killing.
Not only had they slain a handmaiden of Khal Drogo's wife, they had also stolen Daenerys Targaryen's dragon eggs.
But the few who had secretly joined their caravan had long since vanished.
After learning this, Drogo had unleashed a disaster across the lands east of the Dothraki Sea for more than two months.
Only after nearly another month of pursuit did he finally intercept those fugitives on the grasslands near Slaver's Bay.
But from them, only two dragon eggs were recovered.
The third remained missing.
And along with it had vanished the slave trader Jickon Dyxon—Daenerys's steward and the true mastermind behind it all.
The caravan had originally numbered over three hundred.
Now they stood as lambs awaiting slaughter, most of them innocent.
Watching these people—who knew their fate and felt their lives nearing their end—the other khals stepped forward.
"Khal Drogo, these are the sinners who committed the unforgivable crime in the sacred city?"
Their expressions were hostile.
Drogo's face darkened—but he spoke the truth.
"Yes. These are them. But there is one I have yet to capture. I have returned to gather all strength to hunt him down."
"If I fail to capture him, I will never set foot on this land again. I swear it upon my honor—the sacred mountain bears witness!"
The other khals exchanged glances, then nodded.
A heavily built khal with a long braid spoke: "We accept your oath. But if you fail, and do not bring back that sinner to wash away his crime with blood…"
"You will become our enemy."
"And we will use your blood to cleanse the shame you have brought upon us."
Another added: "And until then, your khaleesi, your khalasar—everything tied to you—may not remain in Vaes Dothrak."
"You are cast out until your sin is repaid."
Drogo's expression turned grim—but he could not refute them.
Their judgment was justified.
Yet it did not change the fact that he, his khalasar, his moon of life—and even his newborn son Rhaego—had been driven from the sacred city.
In humiliation.
Clenching his fists, he nodded.
"I will do it. And until then, I will not set foot here again."
"Now…" his eyes flared with killing intent, "bring them forward!"
Moments later, his bloodriders Qotho and Haggo dragged forward two mutilated figures.
They threw them to the ground like refuse.
Limbs severed, eyes and ears gone, flesh torn—barely human.
The khals frowned in confusion.
Drogo said coldly, "Repeat who ordered you."
His voice was ice.
The two men trembled—but relief filled their eyes.
"Illyrio Mopatis… He wanted the dragon eggs. The king across the Narrow Sea—Karl Baratheon—has hatched dragons. It is a miracle."
"He sent us to pose as exiled nobles… to infiltrate Daenerys Targaryen's side and steal them back."
"We've told you everything… just kill us!"
The khals reacted mildly—but Daenerys's face turned deathly pale.
"That was my wedding gift!"
"And he dares to steal it back like this—murdering my handmaiden?!"
"He sheltered me and Viserys, only to sell me like merchandise. Viserys died because of it…"
"And now he dares humiliate me again?!"
Her fury erupted.
This was betrayal.
And humiliation.
Her hand trembled. Then she steadied herself, looking at Jorah Mormont.
"Ser Jorah Mormont… my knight."
"Bring me their heads."
"I obey."
Jorah knelt, rose, and drew his sword.
Two swift strikes.
Two heads rolled across the dirt before the Horse Gate.
Daenerys closed her eyes, then opened them—calm once more.
She looked at Drogo.
"My sun and stars… I will take Illyrio Mopatis's head as well."
"And the last dragon egg he stole."
"I will bring them to my son."
Drogo met her gaze.
"I will do it for you, my moon of my life."
...
Ten days later, a vast army slowly marched west.
Drogo, who had originally planned to raid several Lhazareen towns to seize slaves in exchange for ships to carry his khalasar across the sea, no longer needed to take such unnecessary measures.
As for their destination—one of the Nine Free Cities: Pentos.