A song of Fire and Blood

Chapter 41 – The Khal´s last ride (Part IV)

POV: Aerion Targaryen

The clash of steel and the screams of the dying filled the air, but for Aerion, everything narrowed to a single target.

Khal Drogo stood before him, a colossus of muscle and fury, his long black braid swaying behind him like a banner of conquest.

His bronzed skin was smeared with blood, his massive arakh gleaming in the dying light. The corpse of his prized black stallion lay at his feet, a silent testament to his failure as a horse lord.

Aerion could see murder in his eyes.

But Aerion did not fear him.

Not anymore.

The Last Stand of the Bloodriders

Barristan and Clement fanned out beside him, along with Aerion's personal guards.

The remaining bloodriders—the fiercest warriors of Drogo's khalasar—formed a line around their Khal, snarling like wolves.

Behind them, the Kos—the war-chiefs of the Dothraki—rushed in to protect their leader, knowing that his death would shatter their people.

Steel clashed.

Aerion's men met the bloodriders and Kos head-on, and within moments, the clearing became a maelstrom of battle.

Ser Barristan's blade danced like silver lightning, cutting through a Kos who barely had time to scream before his throat was opened.

Clement, a living battering ram, shattered bones and split skulls with his axe, his laughter ringing out like thunder.

Aerion had no time to watch.

Drogo was coming for him.

The Duel Begins

The Khal did not hesitate.

He lunged forward, his arakh swinging in a brutal downward arc, aiming to split Aerion's skull open.

Aerion sidestepped, the curved blade slicing through the air inches from his face.

He countered with Starfyre, aiming a quick thrust at Drogo's ribs, but the Khal twisted away, his movements deceptively fast for a man his size.

The two warriors circled each other, sizing each other up, the roars of battle fading into the background.

Drogo grinned, eyes full of savage amusement.

"You fight like a man with fire in his blood," he said in his thick accent. "Not like the false king who ran."

Aerion's grip on Starfyre tightened.

"Viserys fled?" he asked.

Drogo snorted. "Like a coward. He begged. Whined. Not worthy of being my wife's brother."

Aerion's breath hitched.

"Daenerys… where is she?"

For the first time, Drogo's smirk vanished.

He tilted his head slightly, then said, "Dead."

Aerion's blood turned to ice.

For a moment, his vision blurred with rage, and before he could stop himself, he struck first.

The Battle of Blades

Starfyre flashed forward, but Drogo parried with brutal force, knocking Aerion's blade aside and immediately launching a counterattack.

Aerion ducked, feeling the wind of the arakh slicing past his cheek.

He struck low, aiming for the Khal's knee, but Drogo leapt back, then came at him with a series of vicious slashes, each one faster than the last.

Aerion was forced onto the defensive, blocking and sidestepping, feeling the weight of Drogo's strength behind every blow.

Then, he saw an opening.

He lunged, feinting high before swinging low, aiming for Drogo's exposed ribs.

But Drogo was ready.

He spun, his arakh coming from below in a brutal rising slash.

Aerion barely managed to twist away, but the curved steel caught his side, slicing through his armor and flesh.

Pain exploded through his ribs.

But he didn't fall.

Instead, he roared—a sound of pure fury—and launched himself back at Drogo.

The Final Strike

The duel raged on, neither warrior giving an inch.

Blood dripped from Aerion's wound, but he ignored it.

Drogo was slowing, his breathing heavy, his movements just a fraction slower.

That was all Aerion needed.

When Drogo swung again, Aerion caught his wrist with his off-hand, stopping the arakh inches from his face.

Then, with one swift motion, he drove Starfyre forward—straight into Drogo's heart.

The Khal gasped, his eyes going wide.

Aerion held the blade there for a moment, then ripped it sideways, nearly cleaving him in half.

Drogo stumbled backward, his lifeblood pouring onto the earth.

And then, the Great Khal fell.

The Breaking of the Khalasar

Silence fell over the battlefield as the Dothraki warriors watched their leader's lifeless body hit the ground.

Aerion knelt beside the corpse, gripping the Khal's long braid.

With one swift motion, he cut it off, holding it high for all to see.

A collective gasp rippled through the khalasar.

The Dothraki searched the battlefield—looking for the bloodriders, the Kos, anyone to take command.

But they were all dead.

For a moment, it seemed as if the battle was truly over.

Aerion allowed himself to breathe.

But then—

A new roar rose from the battlefield.

From the left flank, a fresh wave of Dothraki riders surged forward, their war cries shaking the earth.

 The battle was not over yet.