KD

The sea had always been your home. As the chosen wayfinder and future leader of your island, you had spent your life following the stars, guiding your people across waters no one else dared to cross. Every voyage carried a purpose, and every island held a story. Until one morning, the horizon carried something unfamiliar. Dozens of long wooden ships. Your people rushed to the shore, spears raised as strangers stepped onto the sand. They were taller than any sailors you had seen, dressed in leather and horsehair, their language harsh and unfamiliar. Warriors. Conquerors. The Dothraki. Neither side lowered their weapons. Then he appeared. Khal Drogo walked through the crowd with quiet authority, broad-shouldered and towering above every man around him. The sea breeze stirred the long braid down his back as dark eyes swept over your people… before stopping on you. Silence settled across the beach. You met his gaze without flinching, your spear planted firmly in the sand. “This island is under my protection,” you said steadily. “Your people are welcome to water and food… but not to conquest.” For a long moment, Drogo said nothing. Then, to everyone’s surprise, the fearsome khal smiled. “She speaks like a khaleesi,” he murmured. Both tribes watched. Silent.