Game of Thrones: The Dangerous Traveler (MULTIVERSAL)

GOT: The Dangerous Traveler 12

Lyn Corbray

Year 282 AC – Dothraki Sea

Five days had passed since Lyn and Ciri found themselves trapped in this desert, and desperation was evident on their faces. Hunger, thirst, and exhaustion were their constant companions as their steps dragged over the dry terrain.

Finally, Lyn raised a hand, stopping. "We need to rest," he said, his voice hoarse from dehydration. Ciri, walking just a few steps behind, nodded silently and dropped to the ground beside him. They both sat under the meager shade of a solitary rock, their breaths heavy and their bodies bruised.

After a few minutes of silence, Ciri broke the stillness with a faint voice. "Where I grew up... there were endless forests. Trees so tall they seemed to touch the sky. And crystal-clear rivers that ran fast, full of fish."

Lyn, with his eyes closed and his head resting against the rock, raised an eyebrow. "Endless forests, huh? Doesn't sound like anywhere near here, in Essos. But you're not from Westeros either."

Ciri hesitated for a moment before answering, her tone carefully neutral. "Beyond Asshai, though I don't have much clarity on where exactly."

Lyn opened one eye and looked at her, his gaze sharp. "Interesting that you mention that just after I explained how this world is laid out. How convenient, don't you think? That's the excuse everyone uses to avoid revealing their past. 'Beyond Asshai.' After all, who the hell would want to go to that shithole? Necromancers and blood mages? No thanks."

Ciri held his gaze, her expression calm, though her eyes shone with something close to caution. "It's not convenient. It's the truth."

Lyn scoffed, an ironic smile curling his cracked lips. "Sure, the truth. We all have our own truth, don't we?" The young man closed his eyes again but continued to watch her carefully from the corner of his eye.

Silence reigned again, broken only by the soft whisper of the wind making the tall grass dance. This time, it was Lyn who broke it, frowning as he looked toward the horizon. "Wait… do you see that?"

Ciri followed his gaze, squinting against the glare of the sun. "What is it?"

"Riders," Lyn said, his voice low but filled with alertness. He jumped to his feet, ignoring the exhaustion weighing down his legs. "Ten, maybe more. And they're coming toward us."

Ciri stood up, her heart pounding. "Who are they?"

Lyn gritted his teeth, his gaze fixed on the approaching figures. "Dothraki. And I assure you, they're not coming to offer us water and bread."

This was bad. The Dothraki were wild men who indulged in debauchery. They killed, plundered, and fucked whenever they wanted, without asking for anyone's opinion. They were… a bit like Lyn himself. That was the good life; the problem with that life was when you were in the victim's position. Lyn didn't like that. Not one bit.

"What do we do?" Ciri asked, her hand drifting toward the sword at her waist. She was weak, but she still had much more strength and energy than Lyn. A side effect of her strange powers, the young Corbray supposed.

"I... might have a way," Lyn muttered, annoyed. He didn't want to reveal his cards more than necessary.

The Dothraki stopped a few meters away, their horses neighing as their riders watched with curiosity and disdain. There were murmurs among them in their harsh, fast language.

"Vosso vekhikh haji vah hojak," one said, his tone mocking. ("Look at the foreign woman, she's mine to fuck.")

Another laughed and pointed at Lyn. "Jin mori. Haz khadoon vina hajama lierto." ("Fine. The man is worthless, too weak to make a slave.")

Ciri and Lyn exchanged a look, unable to understand the words but fully grasping the tone. A Dothraki dismounted, approaching with an arrogant smile, while two others seemed ready to follow him. His eyes roamed over Ciri's body with desire and lust.

One of them tried to speak in the Common Tongue, though his accent was rough. "Who... you? Why here?"

Lyn raised his hands, trying to show calm. "We don't want trouble," he said, choosing his words carefully. But the language barrier made it all useless. He only got an unpleasant laugh from the group.

They were ugly, and they smelled bad. Lyn didn't like ugly people who smelled bad. They were particularly unpleasant.

The two who had come closer had even more aggressive looks, especially toward Ciri. One reached out a hand to her, as if to touch her. That was enough for Lyn to react. No one touched what was his.

Focusing, he felt the familiar stabbing pain in his head as he extended his mind toward the horses. It was an enormous risk; he was exhausted and dehydrated, but he had no choice. His right eye turned white, and suddenly, the horses began to neigh furiously. In an instant, the animals reared up, throwing their riders to the ground.

Chaos erupted. The horses, now under Lyn's control, began to trample the fallen Dothraki. Screams filled the air as the warriors tried to stand, only to be knocked down again by their own mounts' hooves.

A couple of them had their heads crushed like melons, while the rest received kicks and stomps that shattered them inside. The internal bleeding must have been nasty; too bad Lyn didn't care.

Ciri, seeing the opportunity, drew her sword and lunged at one of the wounded men trying to get up. Without hesitation, she plunged the blade into his neck. Blood gushed out, staining the dry sand. She decided to ignore the strange situation for now.

Lyn looked at her with a mocking smile as he released his control over the horses. "Not very ladylike of you, killing him when he was already down."

Ciri shot him a cold look. "Ladylike? After the way they looked at me, I owed them no mercy."

'If you only knew the looks I've given you these past days,' Lyn thought with amusement. But Ciri was more than just a piece of meat like Ashara, no matter how attractive, sensual, and perfect that piece of meat was. Ciri was… truly interesting. And she had fucking space powers.

The last Dothraki, badly wounded but still alive, groaned as he tried to crawl away. Lyn walked toward him, observing him with a mix of curiosity and disdain. "Maybe we can get some information out of this one." But after several failed attempts at communication, the effort proved useless.

"He's no good," Ciri said, wiping her sword on one of the fallen men's tunics.

Lyn nodded, pulling out a knife. "Then there's no point in dragging this out." With a swift movement, he ended the man's suffering. Not out of mercy, but boredom.

Silence returned to the desert, interrupted only by the wind and the duo's rapid heartbeats. "We need to move," Lyn said, sheathing his weapon. "It won't take long before they realize their men aren't coming back. I doubt I can pull that trick again anytime soon."

"Oh, so it was you?" Ciri said in a playful tone.

"Who else would it be? The desert spirits?"

"Are there spirits in the desert?" Ciri asked, surprised, to which Lyn simply sighed and ignored her.

"If you don't want to tell me, just say so," she added with fake annoyance. Again, Lyn ignored her.

"At least we have supplies. It's not much, but it'll help us recover and feed us for a few days," Lyn suddenly said. They had looted the Dothraki, of course. "Though I find it disgusting to eat anything their pagan hands touched."

"Pagan? Are you religious now?"

"I'm a man of many qualities, woman. I know a lot about the Faith of the Seven."

As the afternoon turned into night, the duo walked forward, their bodies heavy with exhaustion after the fight with the Dothraki. The twilight light gave the desert a golden hue, and the air began to cool. It was then that Lyn felt the weight of everything that had happened settle on his shoulders.

Ciri walked beside him in silence, her expression unreadable. The girl was a mystery, one he was increasingly interested in deciphering. She was no common damsel, that much was clear. She had strength, skill, and an aura that was difficult to ignore.

"You've been staring at me for a while," Ciri finally said, breaking the silence.

Lyn smirked, shaking his head. "And here I thought I was being subtle."

"You're not," she replied, a small smile playing on her lips. "What are you thinking?"

"That I'm tired, hungry, and thirsty," he said, rubbing his neck. "And that you're not half bad with a sword."

Ciri arched an eyebrow. "Is that a compliment?"

Lyn shrugged. "Take it however you like."

They walked a bit more until they found a small hill where they could rest. Lyn dropped onto the ground with a groan, stretching his sore muscles. "We should sleep in turns," he suggested. "I'll take the first watch."

Ciri hesitated for a moment but eventually nodded. "Fine. Wake me up when it's my turn."

She lay down, using her cloak as a pillow, and closed her eyes. Lyn, on the other hand, remained seated, his gaze fixed on the dark horizon. The wind whispered through the tall grass, and for the first time in days, he allowed himself to breathe.

He didn't know what the next day would bring, but one thing was certain—surviving in this damn desert wasn't going to be easy.

And yet, with Ciri by his side, he had the strange feeling that, perhaps, he wouldn't have to face it alone.