"His Grace has returned!"
The tense atmosphere instantly eased upon the news—everyone's hearts relaxed, except for Daenerys, Kerry, and the supporters of the Golden Company commander.
Upon receiving the news, Daenerys waved her hand impatiently and said, "Trial by combat—it will be decided by His Grace."
Drogo had ordered the fleet to anchor while he went on a hunting excursion. He was often gone for days, which is why Grey Worm had anxiously turned to Daenerys. But luck was on their side—this time, the King returned early.
"Yes, Your Grace," Grey Worm responded. Drogo was known for being fair, and the eunuch commander's furrowed brow finally began to ease. He bowed and left.
Dothraki were free-spirited by nature. Drogo had converted one of the warships into a fishing vessel for pleasure. He had grown tired of circus performances—and if he stayed too long aboard the main ship, the fierce tigress that was his queen would treat him like a newlywed husband every single day.
The Khal had come to believe that the Targaryen royal bloodline truly was different. Inconvenient at times—but also quite... convenient. Like a dragon with limitless stamina.
Drogon and Viserion circled above the fishing vessel. Drogo stood on the deck, one hand resting on the hilt of his blade. Behind him stood his bloodriders, Captain Qhorin and the first mate charting their course.
As his ship sailed back into the fleet, Drogo immediately noticed the tension—both the Golden Company and the Unsullied were fully armored, glaring at one another.
Due to his status, Drogo didn't immediately question it. Instead, he planned to summon both commanders later for an explanation.
Once aboard the flagship—lavish as a floating palace—he passed by a disheveled, tear-streaked Missandei and instinctively asked, "What happened to you?"
Forcing a smile, she replied, "Thank you for your concern, Your Grace. It's nothing."
Missandei had too many concerns, and she saw herself as a withered flower. She believed the Khal would never concern himself with such a trivial matter.
As she expected, Drogo, always focused on larger matters, simply nodded and moved to continue.
But while Missandei tried to suppress her shame, Grey Worm could not. He rushed forward and knelt with both knees on the deck—abandoning his usual military posture.
This break from protocol startled Drogo. "Grey Worm, why are the spears of the Unsullied turned against the Golden Company?"
Grey Worm's voice rasped with emotion: "Your Grace, I beg you to bring justice for Missandei! Punish Kerry Enyr, the lawless beast who defied your edicts!"
Drogo glanced toward the Golden Company and asked, "What exactly did Kerry do?"
Through clenched teeth, Grey Worm recounted everything in detail.
Upon hearing it, Drogo flew into a rage. "Aggo!" he barked. "My blood—go and bring Kerry here!"
Though a hothead, even Aggo hesitated. What's so wrong about a commander taking a lowly maid? he thought.
But he dared not say it aloud. His gaze fell on Missandei's terrified face. Truth be told, Aggo had had his eye on her himself—he just hadn't acted as fast as Kerry.
"Yes, Khal!"
With blood boiling, Aggo drew his arakh and strode toward the boarding plank.
Drogo's choice of Aggo wasn't random—it carried hidden meaning. Only a brute, with no filter, would act without hesitation. And that's exactly what was needed now.
"Trial by combat," Drogo mused, amused. "This eunuch has some experience—he even referenced Westerosi law. Interesting."
He looked at Grey Worm with approval, appreciating his initiative. Though this was a minor issue, the potential threat it posed to army cohesion was grave. Drogo gave up his plans for a warm escape and instead climbed to the upper deck, seating himself on his solid gold throne.
Then he issued his orders:
"Missandei—bring two bottles of Myrish firewine from the cellar."
"Rakharo—fetch the Khaleesi."
"Jhogo—go gather information from both the Unsullied and the Golden Company. On your way back, bring the healer's assistant, Lurian."
All three obeyed at once. Missandei, though deeply shaken, knew that the king's command could not be disobeyed.
Rumors of Grey Worm and Missandei's relationship had reached Drogo's ears before, so he knew not to take either's word as gospel.
Missandei returned with the wine and crystal goblets. She poured as usual, and Drogo took the cup, looking deeply into her eyes.
He saw hesitation and sorrow—emotions he didn't quite understand. Why was this once-cheerful scribe now filled with such grief and confusion?
Kings aren't ordinary men—they don't value women who don't fight for themselves. Missandei had long admired this powerful man before her.
Everyone knew she hadn't been pure. But ever since her emancipation, she had remained chaste, hoping to cleanse her past and start anew. After this disaster—would the man she admired still see her the same?
Even though they had spent so much time side by side...
When Drogo looked away, Missandei cast a bitter glance at Grey Worm. That fool had stirred her heart—what a shame he wasn't whole.
Soon, Aggo returned—escorting Kerry like a criminal.
Kerry was smart. He knew better than to resist in the face of absolute power, even if being dragged like this—under so many watching eyes—was humiliating.
Drogo's eyes gleamed like polished onyx. He barked at the commander: "Kneel!"
Aggo stepped aside. Without hesitation, Kerry knelt and said solemnly:
"Your Grace, I confess I violated Missandei's purity. I am willing to marry her."
That was his way of dodging punishment. How many nobles in this world would settle for just one wife?
But Drogo wasn't the kind of man to bend to anyone's will. He was absolute.
"You may be willing—but she clearly isn't. If she were, there wouldn't be tears. She's no maiden, and you, as a commander, ought to understand what freedom truly means."
Drogo's tone made it clear—he intended to punish him. Kerry began to panic inwardly, praying for Daenerys to appear soon.
But now that both parties had spoken, Drogo had heard enough. "Stay on your knees. What's meant to happen... will happen."
Those words struck like a blade—cutting deep into Kerry's heart.
Drogo appreciated Daenerys's assertive handling of the matter earlier and wanted to hear her take again.
But she and Rakharo had yet to appear, which struck him as odd. Just as he was about to send someone after her, Jhogo arrived—with Lurian in tow.
After hearing the bloodrider's honest report, Drogo's expression darkened. He slammed a fist onto the throne and roared like a wounded bull:
"Lurian! Go conduct a full examination of the queen. If you find even the slightest trace of another man—report back immediately!"
He had initially summoned Lurian to examine Missandei, to verify the extent of Kerry's crimes. But now that truth was out—there was no need.
Lately, however, Daenerys's wild behavior had made him suspicious—and he was not going to let it go unchecked.
The mature Lyseni widow hesitated. "Your Grace, if the queen refuses... I dare not proceed."
Drogo bellowed in fury:
"Tell her—if she doesn't comply, I'll tattoo tears beneath her eyes myself!"
"Yes, Your Grace," Lurian whispered, trembling as she made her way to the cabin.
Drogo glared at Kerry as if he were already a dead man. His killing intent was overwhelming.
"The commander of the Golden Company has broken the law and defied the very meaning of freedom," he declared. "I accept Grey Worm's proposal. Trial by combat will decide his fate! Afterward—regardless of the outcome—Kerry shall be gelded!"
Aside from Drogo and Romann, there was no one among them who could defeat Grey Worm in single combat. Trial by combat meant certain death.
And even if he won—he would still be castrated.
Kneeling, Kerry grew more hopeless by the second. His body slumped to one side and collapsed.
Across from him, Grey Worm slowly rose and walked to the weapons rack. He took down a set of Unsullied arms and armor.