End of Games

Chapter 4

Daenerys' POV

Without warning, my vision of Drogo overlapped with the memory of me killing him triggered by the fact that he was laying just like when I killed him although appearing aside now, something that helped me pushed through the flashback of one of the hardest things I've done.

The first thing I checked was the wound that started it all, and I was surprised to find it completely gone, there was no trace of it, no scar. I ran my fingers over the area and felt only smooth skin.

I turned my attention to the bands next, and it was as my bloodrider said, it looked as though Drogo's skin turned black resulting in the pattern.

"Do you think it's him?" I asked no one in particular while looking at Drogo's face and holding in my tears at bay was all I could do to not appear weak.

"I don't know, Khaleesi," Ser Jorah answered after a moment. "Apart from the bands, it looks like him but..."

"But he was a black dog with burning eyes not so long ago," I completed. "And a day ago, I had three dragon eggs, and now I have three dragons."

"*Khal Drogo was the greatest khal that ever lived," Aggo said gaining my attention. "*He was never defeated in battle, and he commanded one of the largest khalasar in living memory. He vowed to gift his son the iron chair that your father sat upon and the kingdoms he mounted from it, and bring the broken gods of the Seven Kingdoms back to Vaes Dothrak!

The Great Khal Drogo made the vow before the Mother of Mountains and died without fulfilling that vow. The Great Stallion must have sent him back to fulfill his vow and become the Stallion Who Will Mount the World in your son's place before he can join the Great Stallion's khalasar!

Before the Great Black Dog shifted into Khal Drogo, his eyes were raging fire, the fire dragons breath! The Great Stallion must have gifted you the dragons for you to reclaim what is yours so that you will mount the world with Khal Drogo, Khaleesi!"

After walking through fire and sitting in its center for a whole night without being burned and bringing back dragons to the known world, what Aggo said somewhat made sense even though I didn't believe in the Great Stallion as the Dothraki did.

I believed in blood and fire, and reclaiming what belonged to me, and the Iron Throne belonged to me, and with my dragons, I could reclaim it, and I was going to reclaim it and my kingdoms.

For now, though, I was going to attend to Drogo, prepare him so that upon waking up, he would look like the Great Khal he still was, but...

"Drogo was not the greatest khal that ever lived, Aggo," I responded and added before he could say anything. "*He is the greatest khal that has ever lived and still lives!"

"*Blood of my blood."

"*Leave us," I commanded hope blossoming. "Send Irri in on your way out, Ser Jorah."

I didn't have to look at Ser Jorah to know that he didn't like the idea of leaving me alone in the hut with Drogo, but I didn't care, all I cared about was Drogo right now.
TRANSITION
Scott's POV

Have you ever been in that state of being asleep and awake? Maybe you were dreaming but conscious within the dream?

Well, strangely enough, I found myself in that state, only it felt like I was in another person's dream. No, dream was not the right word, more like a nightmare, and I was seeing through the person's eyes. No, I was the person.

I soon realized that it wasn't just a nightmare, I - the person the nightmare belonged to - was the cause of the nightmare, and I found myself enslaving people and that was after I murdered most, sometimes it was vice versa.

And then stealing from them and raping girls and women of varying ages in the aftermath while my friends? (no), my pack? (close), my khalasar? (yes) did the same while our victims' homes burned, and I enjoyed every minute of everything.

I didn't know how many times I've repeated these horrible things over and over again with different sequences but it was all I knew and I loved it, I savoured every single piece of it all, the blood, the enslaving, the fighting, the raping and the horseback riding.

Oh, the horseback riding, my greatest pride.

Wait. No. Horseback riding wasn't my greatest pride anymore.

My unborn son, the stallion who was going to mount the world after I take my khalasar across the poison water to the west on wooden horses, kill the men in iron suits, tear down their stone houses, rape their women, take their children as slaves and bring their broken gods back to Vaes Dothrak, was my greatest pride along with my beautiful and exotic Khaleesi and his mother Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen.

Ah, Daenerys, Moon of my life.

Moon of...

Moon...

Something was wrong, very wrong. What was so important about the Moon that caught my attention and refused to let go?

Moon...

Moonlight...

Moonlight bathing my body... As I died.

No. I-I didn't have a son. I didn't have a wife. I didn't have a khalasar. And most importantly, I wasn't Drogo, son of Bharbo, I wasn't the person who did all those horrible things.

I was Scott McCall, son of Melissa McCall, née Delgado, and Rafael McCall. I was the True Alpha werewolf, the rarest of my kind, and Alpha of McCall Pack, my khalasar - my pac...

No, I didn't have a pack anymore. I didn't have a life ahead of me, either, for I was dying last I checked, and I had to be dead.

I wanted to be dead.

No. I didn't want to be dead. I wanted to concur the Seven Kingdoms in Westeros for my unborn son.