Outside the City of the Undead (Old Qohor)
Screeching roars rang out as shirtless men with olive and bronze skin, adorned with bone necklaces and tattoo-like markings, stood beneath the sky, their braids swaying in the wind. They laughed and cheered, watching as two flying reptilian creatures tore apart a cow mid-air. The two smaller dragons fought over the carcass until a third, larger than the others, swooped in and snatched the cow's head and upper body. Blood rained down upon the Dothraki below—new recruits with shorter braids—who reveled in the chaos, finding amusement in feeding the beasts. Despite the danger, three of their own having already perished in the attempt, they continued to treat the dragons as trained falcons, fearless and exhilarated by the spectacle.
A high-pitched whistle cut through the raucous celebration. From a nearby canopy tent, a young girl stood watching. Two men flanked her—one a towering Summer Islander or an Orphan of the Greenblood, no one was entirely sure, and the other a Dothraki warrior of considerable size. The girl, barely thirteen, had jet-black hair streaked with silver when caught by the sun, and reptilian slit eyes that reflected the fire of the creatures she commanded. Around her neck hung a bone whistle—crafted from the remains of her brother, a gift from her soon-to-be husband.
Once, she had been raised to be a queen, then a Khaleesi, then stolen and made a Khaleesi once more. She had long since accepted her fate. These people, savages in the eyes of the so-called civilized world, were perfect for training her husband's future children. They lacked fear and caution, and that made them ideal. Even after seeing three of their own killed while feeding the dragons, they continued the game. Over time, the dragons, once wild and uncontrollable, had taken a liking to the young warriors who fed them different kinds of meat.
Blood Eyes, the largest and most aggressive of the three, was the one she felt most connected to. Arrogant and confident, the dragon had been killing since it hatched, and now it was almost the size of a wheelhouse. It was ready to be ridden, but because it still challenged her authority, she had been advised by falcon trainers and her betrothed to establish dominance first. For weeks, she had slept near them, eaten with them, lived among them. Only then did they finally listen to her whistle and commands.
At first, she had spoken in High Valyrian, but the dragons had snapped at her. When her guard had pulled her back and shouted in Dothraki, the dragons had stilled. From that moment on, she switched her commands from Valyrian to Dothraki. Now, she was ready.
"Oche Jahak (Blood Eyes)," she called to the beast before her.
Dressed in black leather, her bone whistle still hanging from her neck, she carried a whip—not for the dragon, but as her weapon of choice, as the Dothraki insisted she wield one if she was to ride into war. The whip was crafted from leather, embedded with dragon scales along its length—trophies from their rough play. Its handle bore the carving of a horse's head, a nod to her new people.
Two short blows to the whistle. Blood Eyes lowered itself, extending its wing for her to climb. Her guards helped her mount the creature's back. Jogo, one of her marked Dothraki guards, stepped forward with a chain and rope, securing the makeshift saddle. It was an amusing sight—Dothraki treating dragons like horses. Jogo himself had been thrown meters away when he first tried this, but Blood Eyes tolerated him now. The warrior had fed the dragon many times, earning its reluctant respect.
As Jogo secured the armor and tightened the straps, the dragon grew impatient, and so did she.
"Vraz! (Fly!) Oche Jahak!" she commanded, patting the beast's scaled back.
Blood Eyes let out a thunderous roar, prompting the other two dragons to do the same. With a powerful leap and a flap of their wings, they took to the skies.
Below, where the future Khaleesi had stood, Jogo and the other Dothraki cheered and whistled. They mounted their black steeds, beasts they had taken to calling Shades—faster, stronger, capable of running for three days at a trot or an entire day and night at full gallop. They spurred their mounts forward, chasing after the dragons until they vanished into the clouds, before howling in triumph.
The Dothraki were not considered civilized by most, but under the rule of the Undead Khal, things had begun to change. They still killed, they still raped, but they had learned restraint. Women taken into their care—whether by force or choice—found their lives transformed. The warriors had come to view their women as status symbols, adorning them in silks, gold, and silver, giving them guards and slaves. What had once been brutality had shifted into a twisted form of courtship, an unspoken rule among the warriors: a claimed woman was to be cherished, her beauty paraded like a prized steed.
The change was subtle, but it was there.
Authors note:
now you guys have been great recipients of my writing i know i lack details in my descriptions so i would like to offer you guys the opportunity to give me pictures of the many characters ive come up with and lets give these characters faces we are going mongol horde meets viking grooming had a child and birthed shaman warrior
ps: im turning the great stallion in the dothraki religion into the four horsemen of the apocalypse or more like the four horses of the apocalypse but that isnt the point i know the ritual that made changes was lacking but it really wasnt supposed to change them much except make them harder to kill not by making them immortal undead but instead more like unfeeling berserkers without the losing control part and linking the horde to its khal emotionally meaning whatever fear or doubts they feel can be over written if their khal does not feel that way making the horde fearless and motivated while being acceptable to change