The wind above Essos was warm, nothing like the cold, cutting winds Harry familiar from the lands beyond the Wall.
Harry Gryffindor sat atop Winter's back as the great white dragon soared through the clouds. Each beat of Winter's massive wings carried them farther across the Bay of Tusk, where the sunlight struck the sea below and turned the water into shifting silver.
Below them, the new capital of Narnia stretched across the coast like the beginning of a legend.
Harry stared down in silence.
Even he felt impressed.
The city was enormous, not because of what it already was, but because of what it was clearly becoming. Wide roads had been carved through the land in perfect lines. Massive districts were marked by stone foundations, and wooden scaffolding rose everywhere. From this height, hundreds upon hundreds of workers moved like ants between half-built structures, hauling stone, timber, iron, and tools.
Around it all, magical ward barriers shimmered faintly beneath the sunlight.
Harry had made the protected area absurdly large. Large enough that, if necessary, the entire Narnian population could live inside the capital itself. That was how serious he was about this project.
No more hiding in frozen lands.
This was the future.
The harbor especially drew his attention. It was nearly complete now, with huge stone docks stretching deep into the bay. Dozens of ships unloaded timber, marble, tools, iron, grain, livestock, and supplies. Enormous cranes moved constantly, ropes creaking under heavy loads while workers shouted instructions over the endless hammering.
Among all of them, the giants stood out most.
Two hundred giants moved through the construction site like living siege towers. Stone blocks that would have taken twenty men to lift were carried casually on giant shoulders. Entire timber beams were moved as if they weighed nothing. Some giants carried loaded wagons in their hands rather than waiting for horses to pull them.
Construction that should have taken years was being completed in months.
Harry smiled faintly.
Bringing them had been the correct decision.
Beyond the city, the farmland stretched in every direction. Green, fertile, and alive. Thousands of acres had already been plowed. New villages had formed around irrigation canals. Herds of livestock grazed in fenced fields, and unlike Skagos or the lands beyond the Wall, everything here looked full of life.
Harry guided Winter downward.
The great dragon released a powerful screech that rolled across the city like thunder.
Instant chaos followed.
The Narnians cheered at once.
"The king!"
"Dragon!"
"Winter!"
Workers waved tools into the air. Children screamed with delight. Several giants raised their massive arms in greeting, their voices booming across the city like drums.
The newly arrived Essosi settlers reacted very differently.
Panic burst through the streets.
"Dragon!"
"Run!"
Some dropped baskets of food. Others rushed into buildings. A few shepherd tribesmen fell to their knees immediately, praying in frightened Valyrian while refusing to look directly at Winter.
The dragon descended calmly toward the empty plateau Harry had ordered left untouched. It was a massive open space near where the royal palace would eventually stand, large enough for Winter to land, rest, and take flight.
Winter landed with enough force to shake the earth. Dust exploded outward, and nearby workers stumbled before laughing nervously.
The dragon folded his wings slowly.
Even after all this time, the sheer size of him remained terrifying.
Harry climbed down from the saddle calmly, and almost immediately people rushed toward him.
Ragnar was the first.
He looked exhausted, sunburned, covered in dust, and happier than Harry had seen him last time.
"You came!" Ragnar shouted, grabbing Harry's forearm.
Harry laughed slightly. "You sound surprised."
Behind him, several other leaders approached quickly—builders, ship captains, engineers, and commanders. Everyone looked relieved, because even though Ragnar had managed well, Harry's presence alone steadied people.
Especially now.
Ragnar began speaking before Harry could even rest.
"The harbor is nearly finished. The sewage tunnels are connected to the eastern districts. The shepherd tribes keep arriving every week, and the farmland expanded beyond expectation."
Then his expression darkened.
"But the Dothraki are becoming a bigger problem."
Harry nodded once. "I read your letter."
Ragnar gestured toward the eastern plains beyond the magical barrier. "They keep circling us. Watching. Attacking settlers."
Another man stepped forward. "They attack caravans trying to reach us. Some of the shepherd tribes are too frightened to come now."
Ragnar clenched his jaw. "If this continues, people will stop traveling here."
Fear could kill a kingdom before it was even born.
Ragnar lowered his voice. "I was ready to deal with them myself."
Harry glanced at him knowingly. "Without Winter?"
Ragnar did not deny it. "Yes but with Winter beside us, this would be easy."
Several warriors nearby nodded immediately. The Narnians had grown very confident lately. They had magic, cannons, giants, and a dragon. To them, the Dothraki seemed like a small threat.
Harry only laughed softly.
"Easy?"
Ragnar frowned slightly.
Harry looked toward the distant grasslands. "I didn't come here to kill all the dothraki."
Ragnar crossed his arms. "They are threatening our people."
"And they are also the strongest cavalry force in the world," Harry replied calmly.
One Skagosi man spat onto the ground. "Savages."
Harry turned and looked directly at him. "Then what were you?"
The man blinked.
Harry's voice remained calm. "What were the Skagosi before Narnia? What were the wildlings?"
Nobody answered.
"Without opportunity," Harry continued quietly, "you would have been worse."
That struck Ragnar harder than the others.
Skagos had once been brutal. Raiders, cannibals, clan wars, blood feuds. Narnia had changed them. Opportunity had changed them.
Harry stepped forward slightly.
"The Dothraki are not born monsters. They were raised in a world where strength is survival."
He pointed toward the plains.
"They are horse lords. Warriors. Riders. Archers."
Then Harry smiled faintly.
"And they are exactly the kind of people I need."
Ragnar stared at him for several seconds. "You want to recruit them?"
"Yes."
"That is madness."
Harry laughed again. "Most great things begin as madness."
One of the engineers nearby looked uncertain. "And if they refuse?"
Harry's expression hardened slightly. "Then we deal with that after."
That answer satisfied most of the warriors. Harry was not refusing conflict. He was simply trying diplomacy first.
Ragnar exhaled slowly. "The khalasar camps outside the eastern wards. Around twenty thousand strong."
Twenty thousand Dothraki was no small force, especially for a newly founded kingdom.
Harry remained completely calm. "And their khal?"
"Khal Rhazdar."
Ragnar lowered his voice again. "They are getting bolder. Some riders came close enough yesterday to attack a tribe that accidentally went out of the wards."
Harry's wards had been designed to reject hostile intent. Anyone approaching with violence in their heart would feel overwhelming dread before even touching the barrier.
Either way, the Dothraki had failed repeatedly.
Harry began walking toward the city, and the others followed him.
As he passed through the streets, people stopped constantly to bow or greet him. Children ran after Winter from a safe distance, laughing whenever the dragon turned his enormous head toward them. Many of the newer Essosi settlers still looked terrified.
One old shepherd woman dropped to her knees completely.
"Dragonlord…"
Harry stopped immediately.
Then he crouched slightly and helped her rise.
Most rulers in Essos did not touch commoners kindly. Most would not even notice them.
Harry smiled faintly before continuing onward.
The city itself was progressing beautifully. Every district had been planned carefully. Wide roads, drainage systems, markets, temples, public baths, schools, storage halls, defensive towers, and carefully separated residential areas.
Even the future palace was less extravagant than many Essosi rulers would have built.
Harry cared more about function than display.
Though even so, the architecture was stunning. Marble foundations already rose at the center of the city, and above everything stood the nearly completed Temple of Odin.
The giant structure dominated the skyline.
Beside it, smaller foundations marked the future temples of Frigga, Thor, Loki, and Hela.
Harry paused briefly to look at them.
This was truly becoming Narnia.
Ragnar stepped beside him quietly. "The people are excited."
Harry nodded. "I can feel it."
"They believe this place will change the world."
Harry looked toward the endless plains beyond the wards.
"It will."
The decision was made before sunset.
Harry would meet the khalasar personally, but not with an army, and not with Winter flying above him like a promise of destruction. He would go with only a small escort, enough to show dignity, but not enough to look like an invasion.
The discussion nearly turned into an argument.
"Absolutely not," Ragnar said flatly.
Harry looked amused. "You just sounded like Lyanna."
"That should tell you something," Ragnar growled.
Several nearby warriors nodded immediately, agreeing with him without hesitation.
"If something happens to you," Ragnar continued, "the queen will skin me alive herself."
That actually made Harry laugh. "She probably would."
Ragnar did not laugh with him.
He was entirely serious.
Ever since the news of Lyanna's pregnancy had spread through Narnian settlements, the kingdom itself seemed warmer, as if every hearth burned a little brighter. People smiled more easily. Workers spoke about the future with greater excitement. Even hardened warriors looked softer when they spoke of the child their queen carried.
Ragnar himself had been strangely emotional about it, though he never admitted that aloud. It was not because of politics or succession. It was because Harry had given them something few of them had ever truly possessed before.
A future.
Ragnar had two daughters now, and though he never voiced it openly, there had always been a secret dream buried in the back of his mind. Perhaps one day, one of them might marry Sirius Gryffindor.
Sirius was kind, strong, honorable, and brave. Everything a father could want for his daughter.
But Ragnar was not a fool.
Sirius was the crown prince. The future king of Narnia. There was no realistic chance that the heir to Narnia would marry the daughter of a Skagosi clan leader.
At least, that was what Ragnar had always believed.
Now, with Lyanna carrying another child, the future suddenly seemed wider than before. Perhaps one day one of Harry's younger children—
Ragnar quickly pushed the thought aside before anyone noticed the look on his face.
That was for the future.
Right now, the king was preparing to walk into a Dothraki khalasar.
So Ragnar chose the escort carefully.
Only one hundred riders would accompany Harry. They were the strongest warriors from Skagos, men who had survived raiders, starvation, ice storms, and war. Every one of them rode heavily built northern horses, and unlike most Essosi cavalry, the Narnians wore armor.
Fur-lined leather was reinforced with iron plates. Round shields were strapped across their backs, and axes, spears, and swords hung from saddles and belts. They did not look elegant, but they looked dangerous.
Harry himself wore no crown and no royal colors. He dressed in a dark cloak over simple armor, and at his waist hung the Sword of Gryffindor.
Winter watched silently from the city walls as they departed.
Harry had deliberately left the dragon behind.
Fear was useful, but fear alone never built loyalty. If the Dothraki followed him only because of Winter, then they would never truly respect him. Harry wanted them to see him first, not the dragon.
The ride toward the khalasar took almost an hour.
The farther they traveled from the magical wards, the harsher the plains became. Dust rolled endlessly across the grasslands, and the wind carried the smell of horses, smoke, dry earth, and distant fires. Herds moved like dark patches against the horizon, and soon smoke began rising from a massive camp ahead.
Then the khalasar came into view.
Thousands upon thousands of horses spread across the plains. Tents stood in clusters like a moving city, surrounded by cooking fires, livestock, and endless movement. Slaves hauled water under the watchful eyes of riders. Women prepared meat over open flames. Children ran between tents, and warriors sparred openly in the dust.
Even from a distance, the Dothraki looked dangerous.
The Narnians tightened their formation instinctively.
Harry simply rode forward calmly.
He could already feel the attention settling on them.
Dothraki riders began circling almost immediately. Curved arakhs glinted beneath the sun, and long braids swung behind hardened warriors who studied the small northern force with open amusement.
Harry showed no fear, and the Dothraki respected courage.
One rider finally shouted in rough Dothraki, "Who are you?"
Several Narnians blinked in surprise when Harry answered fluently.
"I came to speak with your khal."
That caused immediate murmurs among the riders.
A foreign man speaking their tongue was not something they had expected.
The riders escorted them deeper into the camp. The farther they went, the more obvious the scale became. This was no small khalasar. Twenty thousand riders, perhaps more, surrounded them in every direction.
Ragnar leaned slightly closer toward Harry.
"If they attack now…"
"They won't," Harry replied casually.
"You sound very sure."
Harry smiled faintly. "They are proud."
And proud people rarely ambushed openly after accepting parley.
Soon they reached the center of the camp. The khal himself sat near a massive fire pit, surrounded by bloodriders, guards, and warriors.
Khal Rhazdar was enormous.
Tall, scarred, and broad-shouldered, he carried himself with the relaxed confidence of a man who had killed many and expected to kill many more. His braid hung almost to his knees, heavy with bells and trophies that marked countless victories.
The khal watched Harry approach without moving.
Then his gaze shifted toward the Sword of Gryffindor.
Interest flashed immediately in his eyes.
Greed.
Many nearby warriors stared at the blade as well. The ruby in its hilt gleamed brilliantly beneath the sunlight, and the sword's silver blade looked more beautiful than Valyrian steel.
Several Dothraki already looked as though they were imagining taking it.
Khal Rhazdar finally spoke.
"You are the leader of the cursed people."
Harry dismounted calmly. "And you are trespassing on my land."
The nearby warriors immediately tightened their grips on their weapons.
Ragnar's men subtly shifted formation behind Harry.
But Harry did not look concerned.
He continued speaking in fluent Dothraki. "I am Harry Gryffindor, King of Narnia. The people inside those wards belong to me."
The khal laughed loudly.
"Then why hide behind magic?"
Harry shrugged. "To keep idiots out."
Several bloodriders snarled at once, and one stepped forward aggressively, but Rhazdar raised one hand.
The khal was entertained now.
"What do you want, foreign king?"
Harry answered honestly. "I came to offer you something."
"I have no issue with your people camping in these lands," Harry continued. "But if you attack those who travel to my kingdom, then we will have a problem."
The khal leaned forward slightly.
"And if we attack?"
Harry smiled. "Then many of you will die."
Silence spread through the circle.
Not because of the threat itself, but because Harry said it so casually, like it was no more than a simple fact.
The khal suddenly grinned.
"I like you."
That surprised Ragnar more than anyone.
Harry remained calm. "You and your people are strong. You are warriors."
He pointed toward the plains around them.
"But your children wander endlessly. No safety. No future beyond the next raid."
Some warriors frowned at that, but Harry continued anyway.
"I can offer you land. A safe place to return to. A place where your children can live without fear."
Rhazdar's expression darkened immediately.
"We are not weak sheep."
"I never said you were."
"We take what we want."
"And someday someone stronger will take from you."
That made several bloodriders furious. Weapons came free slightly, and Ragnar's warriors immediately prepared themselves.
Harry, however, stayed calm.
The khal respected strength, not diplomacy. Words alone would not move him. Promises of land, safety, and trade meant nothing unless Harry first proved that he had the power to offer them.
So Harry changed tactics.
Slowly, he unsheathed the Sword of Gryffindor.
The steel sang softly as it left the scabbard.
Every eye locked onto it instantly.
Harry pointed the blade toward the khal.
"Then fight me."
The entire camp went silent.
Rhazdar blinked once.
Then he laughed thunderously.
"You challenge me?"
"Yes."
The khal rose slowly to his feet.
He was massive. Dangerous. Smiling.
"What are the terms?"
Harry answered without hesitation. "If I win, your khalasar join Narnia."
Murmurs exploded throughout the camp.
The khal narrowed his eyes. "And if you lose?"
Harry's voice remained calm. "Then Narnia will give your khalasar enough tribute to feed your people for years."
That gained attention immediately.
Food. Gold. Livestock. Weapons.
The khal considered it seriously for a moment.
Then he shook his head.
"No surrender."
Harry tilted his head slightly. "What?"
"A khal does not lose," Rhazdar said, smiling savagely. "One dies."
Ragnar cursed quietly under his breath.
Harry simply nodded. "Agreed."
The circle formed quickly.
Thousands gathered around them. Dothraki warriors pushed forward to watch, while women, slaves, and children climbed onto wagons and low hills for a better view. The Narnians remained together, tense and ready, though Harry had ordered them not to interfere.
Rhazdar rolled his shoulders and drew his arakh.
The curved blade gleamed viciously beneath the sun.
Harry remained perfectly still.
Then the fight began.
The khal moved with shocking speed. Faster than most of the Narnians Harry had trained. His arakh came in brutal, unpredictable arcs—low, high, sideways, then low again. The Dothraki style was aggressive and relentless, designed to overwhelm before the opponent could find rhythm.
Rhazdar clearly expected Harry to block.
But Harry did not.
He simply moved.
Every strike missed by inches. Harry stepped around the arakh as if he had already seen each attack before it came. He turned his shoulders, shifted his feet, and let the khal's fury spend itself against empty air.
At first, Rhazdar looked confident.
Then irritated.
Then frustrated.
Harry still had not attacked once.
The Dothraki crowd began shouting loudly now. Some cheered the khal. Others shouted for blood. The pressure around the circle grew heavier with every passing second.
Rhazdar roared and launched forward with full force.
Only then did Harry move.
One clean step.
The Sword of Gryffindor flashed once.
The khal's weapon hand fell to the ground first.
A heartbeat later, so did his head.
Rhazdar's body collapsed heavily into the dirt.
For one long second, no one moved.
Then chaos exploded.
The bloodriders attacked instantly.
Four of them rushed Harry at once, faces twisted with murderous fury. Ragnar's men surged forward immediately, but Harry raised one hand sharply without even looking back.
"Stay back."
The first bloodrider died before anyone could disobey.
Harry moved like lightning.
Steel flashed through the air. One throat opened. Another man lost an arm and fell screaming into the dust. The third tried to strike from behind, only for Harry to pivot and drive the sword straight through his chest.
The last bloodrider screamed and charged recklessly.
Harry stepped aside calmly and removed his head in one clean motion.
Four bodies hit the ground around him.
The entire khalasar stared in stunned silence.
Harry had barely exerted himself.
Then a younger rider stepped forward.
He looked perhaps seventeen, maybe younger. His braid was shorter than the others, but his face carried enough resemblance to the dead khal that no one needed to ask who he was.
The khal's son stared at his father's corpse for several long seconds.
The entire camp watched him.
He walked forward, stopped before Harry, and dropped to both knees in the dirt.
His forehead touched the ground.
"I bend the knee.
Then one by one, more riders followed.
Weapons lowered. Knees touched the earth. Heads bowed.
The khalasar had accepted defeat.
Author's Note:
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