Amaryllis Joseph died in a hospital shooting while tending to a patient, the youngest surgeon to ever had died on her 21st birthday after refusing medical attention and saving the lives of twelve patients before succumbing to her injuries. Instead o...
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The sun was high in the sky, casting long shadows over the bustling port of Sunspear. The salty sea breeze ruffled Mekar's hair as he stood at the dock, staring at the ship that would take him to Essos. His heart was heavy with anger and jealousy, emotions that had festered and grown more potent over the past month since he had learned of Visenyra's twins.
Ashanti's words still echoed in his mind, a constant reminder of his failures. He had tried to find solace in drink and fleeting pleasures, but nothing could dull the pain of his broken marriage and the life he had lost. Desperate for a distraction, he decided to seek out an old friend, Lagertha, hoping that she could provide some clarity or at least a temporary escape from his torment.
Lagertha was no ordinary woman. She was a formidable warrior, once the most dangerous in Dorne, now married to a powerful Dothraki Khal, Vorso. Their paths had diverged long ago, but Mekar remembered her strength and wisdom. Perhaps she could offer some insight, or at the very least, a sympathetic ear.
As the ship set sail, Mekar leaned against the rail, watching the coast of Dorne recede into the distance. The journey to Essos was long and arduous, but he welcomed the distraction. The rhythmic sway of the ship and the endless expanse of the ocean provided a temporary reprieve from his troubled thoughts.
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After weeks at sea, the ship finally docked at the port of Pentos. Mekar disembarked, his body aching from the long journey. The bustling city was a stark contrast to the tranquillity of the open sea. Merchants hawked their wares, and the streets were filled with the vibrant colours and sounds of Essos.
Mekar made his way to the market, asking around for any news of the Dothraki. He learned that Khal Vorso and his khalasar were camped near the ancient city of Qohor. Determined to find Lagertha, Mekar bought a horse and set off on the journey, his mind filled with memories of their past.
The ride was long and gruelling, the harsh landscape of Essos stretching out before him. But Mekar pressed on, driven by a desperate need for closure or understanding. He arrived at the Dothraki camp just as the sun was setting, the sky ablaze with hues of orange and red.
Mekar dismounted, his muscles protesting after the long ride. He made his way through the camp, the Dothraki warriors eyeing him with suspicion. He asked for Lagertha, and one of the warriors led him to her tent.
Lagertha emerged, her presence commanding and fierce. Her eyes narrowed as she recognized him, and she crossed her arms over her chest. "Mekar," she said, her voice cold and unwelcoming. "What are you doing here?"
Mekar took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. "Lagertha, I needed to see you. I needed to talk."
Lagertha's expression hardened. "Talk about what? Your failures? Your betrayals?"
