Game of Thrones: I became a crown prince for a day.

Chapter 678 Death of the True Dragon
The Great Dothraki Grass Sea.

The sky is clear and the white clouds are floating.

The grass leaves swayed gently, creating slight ripples.

In the quiet environment, the burnt smell of fire gradually drifted in the air.

A goatman village.

"Kill them all, and take the women away as slaves!"

"Hahaha……"

Fires set the houses ablaze, and the village echoed with the wails of pain and the wild laughter of the Dothraki riders.

All the sheep were driven away from an open-air sheepfold.

Dozens of fair-skinned sheep women were locked in dirty and smelly pens, left to be bullied by the Dothraki at will.

"No, let me go."

Many women struggled hard, and their screams and tears only resulted in more brutal violence.

"Baa baa~~"

The sheep gathered in groups and cried out in fear.

Yimeng looked at the tragic scenes and couldn't bear it and said, "Does it have to be like this?"

"This is the rule. The tribe needs supplies when migrating."

The scarred blood guard rode beside him on horseback and replied in a condescending manner.

As he spoke, he glanced casually.

Aemon was standing in the flock of sheep, his silver-gold hair a little gray, and he was swayed by the panicked sheep.

Just like the abused sheep women, they are all lambs to be slaughtered in the eyes of the Dothraki.

"They are innocent. Isn't it enough to kill all the men?"

Aemon looked up and tried to persuade him: "The tribe has taken away all the sheep and money. There is no need to kill them all."

Even though it wasn't the first time I'd seen the atrocities of the Dothraki, I still couldn't accept it in my heart.

There has never been such a random massacre in the continent of Westeros, including the free trade city-states across the Strait of Westeros.

It seems that without doing extreme bad things, the power of the tribe cannot be demonstrated.

Crack!

A whip passed across the sheep's face, lashing it.

Aemon was startled and almost knocked down by the restless flock of sheep.

The scarred Blood Alliance Guard had a gloomy face and said in a deep voice: "If we don't rob them, others will come to rob them. If we kill all the men and leave the women alone, the women won't be able to survive."

There is no mercy on the Great Grass Sea, only the most primitive law of the jungle.

"Every time you destroy a village, you lose a supply point in the future."

Yimon changed his mind and started talking about interests.

"Hahaha."

The scarred blood guard laughed out loud, as if he had heard a funny joke: "We can never kill all the people. We all know that."

"Yes, we all know that."

"Hahaha……"

A group of Dothraki men with sacks on their shoulders rode by on horseback, whistling wantonly.

Sheep people are the easiest group to bully, as they reproduce as quickly as sheep.

The grass in the Dacaohai Sea is abundant and can support a large number of fat sheep.

Aemon gritted his teeth secretly, and his sneer was particularly harsh.

He intuitively felt that people’s views on good and evil were different.

"Now, you have to drive the sheep away."

After the scarred bloodrider finished laughing, he pointed his whip at the silver-haired boy and said sarcastically: "A dragon without a dragon is as soft as a sheep. You must adapt to the life of a Dothraki."

He doesn't want to train a wimp.

Aemon slowly lowered his head and stood still.

Just a dozen meters away, the cries in the sheepfold became more and more tragic.

The Dothraki left the looted food and went into the sheepfold, dragged out the women, and had sex with them like animals.

If things don't go his way, he'll start beating and kicking you.

Stab it!

The linen dress was torn to pieces, revealing the milky white skin of the sheep-man.

The Dothraki had no mercy and would even whip newly captured slave girls with horsewhips.

Aemon silently touched his back beneath his fur coat.

It felt a little painful even through the leather jacket; it was the scar from the initial whipping.

Hearing the screams and the sounds of whipping, the healed scars seemed to be stinging slightly.

"It shouldn't be like this."

Aemon was in a trance for a moment and murmured softly.

"What did you say?"

The sound was like the hum of a mosquito and the scarred blood guard didn't hear it clearly.

Aemon's head snapped up, his purple eyes fierce.

My father once said that people should have awe for life.

It was wrong for the Dothraki to do this.

He was a Targaryen, not an uneducated Dothraki or a Dothraki slave.

"I wouldn't do that."

Aemon met the scarred bloodrider's gaze and spoke clearly, word for word.

The scarred blood guard didn't understand, but he realized that the silver-haired boy was rebellious, and his face turned cold: "If you don't obey orders, you will walk in the mud with the slaves."

In Dothraki tradition, only those who ride horses are worthy of respect.

Those who cannot ride horses are slaves and useless people.

Aemon shrugged and said calmly, "Whatever you say, I never longed for a horse."

After saying that, he took off his animal skin coat, revealing his scarred back, pushed away the flock of sheep and walked towards another group of sheep.

He had lived enough.

I am too embarrassed to go home, and I cannot go home.

There was no chance of going to Slave Bay as the Golden Witch had mentioned.

He had had enough of putting up with these brutal Dothraki.

Wanton killing and inhumane looting.

"Stop, or you'll be a traitor!"

The scarred Blood Alliance Guard shouted loudly, jumped off his horse and drew his scimitar.

"I said, it's up to you."

Without looking back, Aemon walked up behind a Dothraki who was holding a woman and abusing her.

The action was decisive, and he kicked with his foot raised.

With a bang, the Dothraki was forced off his horse and rolled on the ground in a mess.

"Get up and go over there."

Aemon lifted up the dishevelled woman and held her behind him.

The woman was not young and looked at him with horror.

"I am not a Dothraki."

Aemon shook his head and picked up a burning stick from the ground.

As soon as he turned around, all the Dothraki who were enjoying the spoils were attracted here.

Someone kept moving, shaking his waist and laughing:
"The shepherd boy has grown up and dares to compete with the warrior for women."

He pointed specifically at the Dothraki youth who was getting up from the ground, mocking him for being kicked over by a boy who was not as tall as a horse's back.

"Ah! How dare you steal my spoils!"

The Dothraki youth was so furious that he picked up his scimitar and was ready to attack without even pulling up his trousers.

Everyone around was watching the show, expecting to see a bloody incident caused by a woman.

Aemon was very calm, holding a torch in one hand and taking out the clan sword True Fire with the other.

The Valyrian steel sword, which was completely black at night, appeared out of thin air, immediately attracting the greedy gazes of the Dothraki.

The Dothraki youth was the worst. He said with a grim look on his face: "You know blood magic, damn bastard!"

He moved forward with his trousers lifted up, swinging the scimitar across his waist like a willow leaf.

Kill the silver-haired boy in front of him, and the Valyrian steel sword will be his new trophy.

Bang!

Aemon swung his sword calmly, and his hand, half as tall as his own, precariously pushed away the scimitar.

The Dothraki youths continued their attack, determined not to give up until they achieved their goal.

Aemon's face was tense, and he retreated again and again with his sword.

Finally, my feet stepped into a mud puddle trampled by the sheep.

"Go to hell, bastard!"

The Dothraki youth had a fierce look in his eyes and swung his scimitar down to meet his opponent's attack.

Pfft!

The sharp blade pierced the flesh and blood, causing ordinary people to exclaim.

The Dothraki youth froze in place, his face suddenly turning pale.

Aemon took a big step forward, leaned forward and stabbed the other man's belly with his clan sword Truefire.

Stab it!

Aemon's face turned pale, and he took a step back and pulled out the true fire.

The Dothraki youth vomited blood and staggered and fell forward.

His entire face was smashed into the mud, and his abdomen was opened and his intestines flowed out.

The person died, and died very cleanly.

All the Dothraki present were shocked; they did not expect this result.

Then, he gave up the idea of ​​watching the show.

The woman who was pressed under him took the opportunity to struggle, crying and crawling towards the sheepfold.

Aemon stood in front of them, keeping his eyes on the Dothraki approaching from every corner.

There weren’t many, but there were at least a dozen people.

He carefully pulled up his trousers and approached with a fierce look in his eyes.

"Let them go, you don't need these spoils."

Imon forced himself to remain calm and made a final effort: "I can give you more precious jewels in exchange for them."

He would keep his promise as long as he could return to Westeros or a free trade castle ruled by the Iron Throne.

However, he was answered with silence.

The Dothraki pressed forward, their cold expressions hiding a cunning gleam.

Seeing this, Yimon sighed helplessly: "Then there is nothing to talk about."

While no one was around, he suddenly threw the torch out.

Near the sheepfold were haystacks and wooden houses that had been set on fire.

The torch fell on the haystack and immediately ignited the scattered hay around it with the wind.

Aemon retreated slowly, the ruby ​​on the hilt of the Truefire sword in his hand gleaming red.

The flames seemed to have life, spitting out tongues like fire snakes, and growing more intense under the strong wind.

Hurala!
A gust of wind blew the haystack over, and the burning hay flew all over the sky, surrounding the sheep pen in a blink of an eye.

"What's going on?" The Dothraki was stunned and quickly retreated to avoid the flames.

Someone looked at Aemon in the flames and immediately started shouting.

"He's a blood wizard!"

He had just conjured a Valyrian steel sword out of thin air, and now he could use the wind to set fire.

"Blood wizard?"

Aemon's vision was blocked by the flames, and he couldn't help but smile bitterly when he heard the shouting.

I wish he were.

I just lit a fire, but it turned out to be so big.

Looking around, he saw fire and Dothraki surrounding him.

Behind him were the sheep-people women huddled together, sobbing and looking at him.

A small figure, but a great stature.

Aemon sighed and said frankly, "It's over."

It's finally over.

You can go meet the trickster spirit, and if you are a soul, you can even cross the sea to see your father, mother and Bernilla.

Crackling!

The fire burned all the hay and gradually engulfed the wooden fence of the sheep pen, reaching its maximum size.

Aemon stood calmly in the fire and slowly closed his eyes.

He would not help the tyrant, nor would he be content to be a small shepherd slave.

Every dragon has its own way of dying, and this is just right.

"Put out the fire, don't let this kid die like this."

Suddenly, shouts were heard outside the fire and the sound of impatient footsteps.

So many slave girls and bastard boys were in the fire, all burned to death and they would be punished by Kaa.

Aemon opened his eyes in surprise, and the fire spread to his feet.

Isn't this completely ruined?

call out!call out!
Suddenly, cold arrows fell like raindrops, accompanied by the noise of horses' trampling.

"Kill them all..."

Shouts of fighting and killing suddenly rang out, sweeping across the entire village in an instant.

Aemon was shocked, unable to see through the flames.

There were fifty thousand Dothraki in their band, and several thousand of them sacked the village.

He was the best shepherd and was brought by the scarred bloodriders to look after the flock.

Why does it sound like the tribe is being attacked from the noise outside?

As it turned out, his prediction was correct.

A larger group of Dothraki rushed into the village and without saying a word, they wielded their knives at their fellow Dothraki who were looting the spoils, killing them all by surprise.

For a time, the village once again became a living hell.

Aemon's eyes widened, he was at a loss.

"Child, come with me."

A big hand stretched out from behind to cover my mouth, and the rough calluses on the knuckles rubbed my face painfully.

Aemon whimpered, shaking his head back and forth and struggling.

With a quick glance, he saw the sheep-woman he had just rescued.

The woman was approaching middle age, her chestnut curly hair was messy, and her figure was no longer slim.

The relatively kind face was now covered with tear marks, and the deep wrinkles at the corners of the eyes were covered with bruises.

The middle-aged woman wrapped Aemon in a torn linen skirt and dragged him back to the sheepfold with swift movements.

The group of women remained silent and consciously kept the middle-aged woman in the corner.

"What are you doing!?"

Imon pried open his hands that were covering his mouth, not wanting to just sit there and wait for death.

"Hush, they won't kill valuable slave girls."

The middle-aged woman made a hushing gesture, pulled a dress off the body of a woman with a broken head, and put it on Aemon.

Silver-gold hair, gradually whitening skin, and the slender figure of a teenager.

The middle-aged woman smeared feces on Imon's face and body, held him in her arms and pretended he was a girl.

Aemon was in a daze, allowing the other party to fiddle with him for a while.

When he came to his senses, he was already lying in the plump bosom of the middle-aged woman.

The fire gradually died down and the sounds of fighting stopped.

boom!
The sheep pen fence was kicked open, and a group of bloody Dothraki broke in.

"Take all the slave girls away. The slave traders in Slaver's Bay are waiting."

The hoarse Dothraki language sounded, deciding the fate of the sheep woman.

This group of Dothraki acted decisively. They tied up the female slaves and left immediately, leaving behind corpses with their eyes open.

……

In the blink of an eye, half a month later.

Slaver's Bay, Meereen.

Crunchy!

The carriage wheels turned on the bumpy road, making a harsh sound.

The slave owner rode his horse in front of the team, looking back from time to time at the long line of slaves.

Strong men, old men and children walked behind the cart, carrying the goods and tied them together with hemp ropes.

The female slaves had their hands tied and were detained in prison cars in batches.

There were Dothraki escorts on both sides, waiting to arrive at the slave city-state to exchange "greeting gifts".

It is the custom of the Dothraki to hate and despise the act of trading.

Exchange slaves and supplies with Slaver's Bay, more like mutual gifts.

Inside a prison van.

The middle-aged woman hid it, took out a water bag, and whispered, "Child, drink something."

Aemon huddled in her arms, his eyes a little numb.

The necklace around his neck was lost, and the clan sword Truefire became the sword of a Dothraki khal.

The previous tribe also dispersed.

Oka.Kao was killed in a one-on-one fight, and the tribe of tens of thousands of people scattered.

All of them were broken up and annexed by a huge tribe ruled by another khal named "Os.Khal".

I don’t know whether Leah is dead or alive?

Aemon was disheartened and refused the water that was offered to him.

I originally wanted to find relief by dying like a dragon, but I didn't expect to end up in a tiger's den just after escaping from the wolf's den.

"But we are really close to Slaver's Bay."

Aemon twisted his stiff neck and saw the bronze statue of the harpy in the city of Meereen in the distance.

"Have a drink, we'll have to separate when we get to the city."

The middle-aged woman took a sip herself and forced one on Eamon as well.

After half a month's journey, the originally tattered linen skirt was mended.

He huddled in a corner of the prison van, resting quite comfortably.

Aemon choked and started coughing.

He took the time to glance at the woman, and his silent heart became a little more lively.

The other person had a graceful demeanor, and his every move was not as calm and relaxed as that of a countryman, as if he was a person who had been respected all year round.

Judging from the address of the sheep-man woman in the same car, the other party seemed to be the priestess of the village.

"Don't look at me. You saved me, so I'll save you too."

The middle-aged woman sighed softly, seemingly accepting the reality.

But from Imon's angle, he could see clearly that there was a deep hatred in the other person's eyes that could not be dissolved.

The Dothraka people destroyed their villages, burned their altars and smashed their idols, and they themselves were beaten in turns.

How can there not be hatred?
Time passed bit by bit, and the slave traders entered Meereen.

boom!
The procession stopped at the great arena, and the Dothraki drove all the slaves off the wagons and gathered them together.

The slave owner looked around and said coldly, "The men will be locked up in the arena, and the women will be sent to the square for trading."

As soon as these words were spoken, the slave soldiers immediately took action and sorted the male and female slaves like livestock.

In the crowd, Imon was squeezed so hard that he couldn't breathe.

The middle-aged woman buried her head, hugged Yimeng to avoid him, and lowered her voice: "Be quiet, don't let them find out."

He pulled out a blunt knife from somewhere and grabbed Imon's hair and cut it off.

It was not enough to have short hair, so he shaved it into stubble.

The ill-fitting linen skirt was torn into a tattered coat.

In the face of Yimon's puzzled eyes, the middle-aged woman sternly warned: "Female slaves will not have a good ending. You must be assigned to the arena, where boys can grow up safely."

After saying that, he stuffed Aemon into the pile of male slaves.

The identity of this silver-haired boy is unusual, as can be seen from the previous reactions of the Dothraki people, the Valyrian steel sword, and the blood wizard.

Slaver's Bay is an evil den, and even holy children who fall into it will be corrupted.

Only by hiding yourself well can you grow up slowly.

Aemon opened his mouth to speak, but was quickly pushed away by the crowd and the middle-aged woman disappeared from his sight.

The slave owners were not vegetarians and they sorted the slaves very quickly.

Before the sun sets, it is distributed to various places for sale.

……

At night, dark clouds cover the moon.

The Grand Arena, the underground prison cells.

Aemon hugged his knees and leaned against the damp, cold wall.

All around him were newly bought male slaves, crowded in the cramped cell like livestock.

Tick ​​tock, tick tock!
Water droplets seeped from the wall and fell into the calloused little hands.

Aemon bent down and licked his cracked lips.

Looking up at the sky, the only small window on the wall is only the size of a palm, and I can barely see the night sky outside.

Aemon couldn't help but lose his concentration, his thoughts wandering.

Feel the crowds around you and smell the stench of sweat and urine.

At this moment, I believed the Golden Witch's prophecy.

He actually came to Slaver's Bay.

There was also the so-called "lose a dragon, gain a dragon" prophecy, he understood.

Only his stubble-like head was left cold, and he was beaten and scolded at will during the day.

The trickster died in exchange for him surviving the fall into the sea.

Now, Aemon Targaryen also died in the slave prison, leaving only the slave Aemon.

“I have to survive.”

Aemon's eyes were firmer than ever as he tried to see the moon through the clouds.

I can't just die rotten and smelly like this without dignity.

(End of this chapter)