Game Of Thrones: Khal Pollo (GOT)

The enforced peace, born from the ashes of an executed commander, lay heavily over the khalasar. The warriors moved with a new purpose, fear having become an effective substitute for discipline. Inside the main tent, Pollo stood before his map, but his eyes did not see trade routes or grasslands. He was looking at the bronze compass in his hand. Its needle pointed steadily southeast, towards the ancient city of Volantis, and it glowed with a faint yet persistent bronze light.

Daenerys entered the tent, her movements silent. The smaller dragons, now the size of wildcats, followed behind her, their tiny claws clicking softly on the rugs. She had grown into the consort of this nomadic empire, her presence a calm counterpoint to Pollo's turbulent force.

She stood beside him, her violet eyes on the compass as well. "Volantis," she said. It was not a question. She was now part of his decision-making process.

"Its Black Walls were built by the Valyrian Freehold," Daenerys continued, her voice imbued with the knowledge she had devoured from the books Illyrio had provided her. "Your horses cannot breach them. The Triarchs command a powerful fleet and a legion of slave soldiers known as the 'Tigers'."

Pollo finally shifted his gaze from the compass to her. "I am not interested in the Triarchs," he stated, his intuition enhanced by the vague knowledge from another world giving him clarity. "They are squabbling puppets fighting over titles. The true power in that city wears red robes."

His plan, when he announced it to his Bloodriders, was startling. He would not take the entire khalasar. That would be a declaration of total war, slow, and wasteful. Instead, he would make a swift journey. He would take five thousand of his best warriors, Vekho's heavy cavalry and Qorro's scouts, a force large enough to be a deadly threat but agile enough to move like the wind. The main khalasar, the remaining seventy-five thousand warriors, would remain under Garo's command.

The night before his departure, the atmosphere inside the tent was different. It was intimate. Daenerys helped him buckle his leather arm guards, her slender fingers moving with tenderness.

"Be careful," she whispered, her violet eyes looking up at him with genuine concern. "The red priests are dangerous. They do not fight with steel, but with whispers, shadows, and soul-burning promises."

Pollo caught her hand, stopping her movement. "Shadows die in the light, Dany," he said, using the nickname for the first time. He leaned in and kissed her, a deep, possessive kiss that marked his claim before he left.

As Pollo and his chosen contingent disappeared over the horizon the next day, Daenerys felt a strange pang in her heart. It was a feeling she did not recognize. Part of it was worry for the danger that awaited him in the city of fire-worshippers. Part of it, she realized with a jolt, was jealousy. She knew Pollo was going to acquire a new 'tool'. She had seen how he took what he desired, be it kingdoms or women. And she knew that in Volantis, a very powerful woman was waiting for him.

Pollo's five thousand horsemen arrived near Volantis like a silent dust storm. They did not approach the massive gates of the Black Walls. They made an ordered, menacing encampment in the middle of the Valyrian Road, effectively blockading all land traffic into Essos's largest city. They did not plunder. They did not shout. They simply sat there, silent, disciplined, and terrifying, their long shadows stretching under the afternoon sun. Their mere presence was enough to cause mass panic within the city. Merchants shuttered their shops. Mothers pulled their children from the streets.

Pollo sent no threat. He sent Qorro. The swift horseman approached the gates alone, carrying a rolled message, not for the bickering Triarchs, but for the Red Temple of R'hllor. The message was simple and supremely arrogant:

"Khal Pollo, whose fire burns brighter than any other, requests an audience with the High Priestess. The Lord of Light has sent him. Do not keep a God waiting."

Within the magnificent Red Temple, a colossal edifice that dominated the Volantene skyline, Kinvara, the First High Priestess, stood before the greatest sacred flame. She had seen him. In the flames, she had seen a black dragon whose shadow would swallow the world. She had seen the muscular warrior who rode it, a conqueror coming from the east. Azor Ahai.

While the Triarchs in their palaces debated whether to send the 'Tigers' or offer tribute, Kinvara ignored them. She had seen her god's will. She sent her own reply back with Qorro.

"The High Priestess will receive the Champion of Light. Come to the temple when the moon is highest. Alone."

Pollo rode his horse alone across the Long Bridge of Volantis as night fell. The bridge itself was a wonder, a massive arch of fused stone teeming with buildings. The air was thick with the smells of spices, refuse, and thousands of packed humanity. He saw incredible wealth and blatant slavery, slaves with tattooed tears on their faces trudging alongside silk-clad nobles.

The Red Temple was the pulsing heart of the city. Inside, the heat was stifling. The chanting of thousands of worshippers rose and fell in hypnotic waves, a chorus of fanaticism. Kinvara did not await him in a private chamber. She stood on the main stage, before the sacred flame, preaching to her thousands of followers. She was a mesmerizing figure, her red silk robes swirling around her slender body, her voice resonating with fiery conviction. She made Pollo wait among the masses, a subtle power play.

When she finally met him in a private sanctuary at the apex of the temple, their conversation was a duel of wills. The room was lit only by a single massive sacred flame, which made their shadows dance on the walls like giants.

"I have seen you in the flames, Azor Ahai," Kinvara said, her dark eyes staring at him with fanatic intensity. "You come to lead us in the Great War against the darkness."

Pollo played along, his intuition telling him the path to his prize. "The fire within me led me here," he said, his voice deep and authoritative. "It tells me I need tools for the coming war. Tools only you can provide."

Kinvara's eyes gleamed. "The Lord grants gifts to those who prove their devotion. Devotion requires union. Fire must meet fire, flesh must meet flesh, for the god's will to be manifest."

She moved closer to him, the heat radiating from her body rivaling that of the sacred flame. "Tonight," she whispered, "we will perform the ritual of union. We will bind your soul to His purpose."

The sanctuary felt like a forge. Kinvara shed her red robes, revealing her slender, toned body in the flickering firelight. Her skin shimmered with a thin sheen of sweat. She moved not with a maiden's hesitation, but with a goddess's conviction.

"The Lord sees through my eyes," Kinvara whispered, her voice husky with religious fervor. "Tonight, He will see through yours as well."

Pollo said nothing. He ripped off his leather vest, his immense muscles coiling under the dancing light. This was not about lust. This was about purpose.

Kinvara came closer, her hands tracing Pollo's chest, feeling the unnatural heat radiating from his skin. "The fire..." she breathed. She dropped to her knees before him.

Her mouth was hot and skilled. She worshipped him, her tongue dancing, her hands grasping Pollo's rock-hard thighs. Pollo simply stood there, his hands clenched at his sides, letting her work. He could feel her fanatic passion in every movement, every suckle.

After a moment, Pollo pulled her to her feet. He pushed her back against the warm stone altar near the flame. He lifted her and sat her on it, parting her legs. Her vagina was already slick, glistening under the firelight.

Pollo entered her with one powerful, deep thrust.

"AAAAHHH!" Kinvara's scream was a mixture of pain and ecstasy. She arched her back, her firm breasts bouncing, her hands clutching the edge of the altar.

Pollo began to move, his thrusts powerful and rhythmic. Each thrust lifted Kinvara's body off the altar. The sound of their wet, slick skin slapping echoed in the sanctuary, a primal rhythm merging with the hiss of the flame.

"BY THE LORD!" Kinvara cried, her head thrown back. "YES... DEEPER... BURN ME!"

Sweat gleamed on their bodies, reflecting the firelight. Pollo could feel the heat of the flame at his back and the heat of the woman beneath him. He gripped her hips, lifting her slightly, changing the angle, driving deeper still.

"I SEE IT... I SEE THE FUTURE!" Kinvara shrieked, her eyes rolling back. "DRAGONS... DARKNESS... AND YOU... YOU AT THE CENTER OF IT ALL... AH!"

Her body began to convulse. Orgasm hit her like a lightning bolt, a violent, uncontrolled release. She screamed, a long, drawn-out wail that was both prayer and curse, her body shaking violently beneath Pollo.

While she was still trembling, as the waves of her religious pleasure crested, Pollo felt his own release approaching. With a final surge, he pulled out.

Kinvara, still in the haze of her ecstasy, looked at him in bewilderment. Pollo grabbed her by the hair, pulling her head forward.

"Open your mouth," he commanded, his voice hoarse.

She obeyed, her eyes wide and wild upon him.

Pollo unleashed himself. Thick, hot semen spurted forth, filling Kinvara's open mouth. She choked, swallowing instinctively. Pollo did not stop until he was completely empty, ensuring every last drop of his "sacrifice" had been received.

It was then that an intense red light engulfed Pollo. It was brighter than the sacred flame, so powerful it was painful to behold.

When the light faded, Kinvara, panting and exhausted but triumphant, saw an object lying on Pollo's sweating chest. It was a ruby the size of a bird's heart, pulsing with a soft internal glow, as if the sacred flame itself had been captured within it. The Eye of R'hllor.

"Now," Kinvara whispered, a victorious smile on her wet lips. "You are His."

Pollo took his new artifact, feeling its power flow into him. He could feel an instant connection, a new sense opening in his mind. He smiled at her, a smile that did not reach his eyes.

"I have always been of the fire," he replied.

He left the Red Temple as dawn broke. He rode his horse back across the now deserted Long Bridge. He held the Eye of R'hllor in his hand, clutching it tightly. He closed his eyes.

And the world exploded in his vision.

He was no longer on his horse. He was a thousand feet in the air. He felt the wind roaring past his black scales. Below him, his massive khalasar looked like an orderly swarm of ants. In the distance, he could see the vast, endless sea. He opened his jaws and let out a silent roar, feeling the vibrations in his dragon's throat.

He had acquired his tool. Now, it was time to build the weapon that would carry him across that sea. His mind turned to fleets.