Game of Thrones: I am Dothraki, not a barbarian

Chapter 109 Today is that day

Lancel remained missing, and Ned grew increasingly suspicious.

Shouldn't he be going to find something to clean the deck? Why isn't he back yet?

Ned stuffed the will into his breast pocket, walked to the door, pushed it open, and had only taken a few steps when his throat was suddenly gripped tightly.

A strong arm wrapped around his neck from behind, so tightly that he couldn't make a sound.

He stomped his foot on the ground trying to warn others, but no one could hear what was happening.

Then, he felt a chill on his side as a dagger cleanly pierced his body. A sharp pain followed, causing his vision to go black and his consciousness to blur instantly.

"Quick, find that damn will."

That was James's voice.

Ned bit his tongue, mustered his strength, and with his last bit of power broke free from James's hold. He jumped into the sea, and the next second, the icy water swallowed his body.

His thoughts drifted to Winterfell.

Caitlyn, Robb, Sansa, and the mischievous Arya.

Young Bran and Rickon.

And then there's Jon Snow, the boy who always stands in the corner, the fruit of Lyanna and Rhaegar's love.

Ned wanted to tell them to take care, and he wanted to tell Caitlin how much he loved her...

But it was too late.

Before his consciousness completely faded into darkness, he saw a red comet streak across the night sky, scarlet and dazzling.

...

After an unknown amount of time, Ned felt a strong light irritate his eyelids.

He opened his eyes and found himself lying on the beach, the waves lapping at his body, soaking him completely, his clothes sticking to his skin, the wound in his abdomen throbbing slightly, but miraculously it hadn't killed him.

Ned tried to move his body, but every muscle in his body protested, and he felt limp and powerless.

He struggled to touch the wound on his abdomen; the seawater had washed away the blood, leaving only a gruesome gash.

The knife miraculously avoided his internal organs; it seems the gods don't want him dead yet.

Jaime Lannister!

If he returns to King's Landing, he will make the Lannisters pay!

He will mobilize the Northern army and unite with other nobles loyal to Robert to wipe out the traitors!
But right now, the most important thing is to survive.

Just then, two ragged scavengers came over, speaking Common with a heavy Pentos accent, their eyes greedily scanning him up and down.

The scavengers searched their pockets but found nothing. Finally, one of them discovered the Valyrian steel dagger at his waist.

"Hey! Look at this, brother, Poseidon has given us a great gift!"

Ned wanted to resist, but he couldn't even sit up right now, and he dared not reveal his identity. If Laharo knew that the Duke of Winterfell was still alive, then returning to King's Landing alive would be a pipe dream.

The two men turned and took a few steps when the man with the dagger suddenly stopped and turned back. "He saw our faces. What if he gets better and takes revenge on us?"

"Brother, look at him, he's definitely not going to make it!"

"No," a glint of malice flashed in the man's eyes, "he must be killed!"

Just then, a lithe figure rushed over, thrusting a longsword. The two scavengers didn't even have time to react before falling into a pool of blood. "Lord Ed," the man reached out and helped Ned up, tearing off his cloak to cover his wounds, "it seems you've escaped death."

“Syrio?” Ned looked at him incredulously. “What are you doing here? Where is my daughter?”

"Gods be with you! Arya is safe. She is stronger than you think. She is in Pentos now, and I think she will be very happy to see you!"

Upon hearing Syrio's words, Ned felt a huge weight lifted from his heart. He had never missed his daughter as much as he did today.

Suddenly, their conversation was interrupted by the sound of hooves. Two Dothraki light cavalrymen rode slowly toward them. When they saw the wounded Ned and the two corpses on the ground, they frowned.

"Is there a battle here?" The lead Dothraki rode slowly over and asked in broken Common.

Sirio immediately put on a fawning smile and pointed to the two corpses on the ground, "My friend was attacked by these two thieves, and I killed them."

The Dothraki looked on with suspicion, but seemed to accept the explanation.

Just as they were about to leave, a knight stared at Ned for a moment, a hint of surprise flashing in his eyes, and slowly reached for the hilt of his sword.

Seeing the change in the Dothraki's eyes, Syrio immediately sensed danger. With incredible speed, he drew his rapier and lunged forward!
The two knights drew their scimitars almost simultaneously. The first knight spurred his horse and charged toward Syrio, slashing down with his scimitar.

Cyrio slightly turned to the side, and the tip of his sword flashed out like lightning, piercing the Dothraki's heart, blood gushing out like a fountain.

Before he could catch his breath, the second knight's bowstring vibrated, and an arrow pierced the air. Cirio was unable to dodge it and was struck in the right shoulder. The arrowhead pierced through and burst out, creating a cloud of blood mist!
Immediately afterward, the scimitar drew a sharp arc of light, and Sirio hurriedly sheathed his sword and retreated, but his shoulder restricted his movements, making him increasingly sluggish.

After a few rounds of fighting, the Dothraki found an opportunity and plunged his sword into Syrio's chest. Syrio coughed up blood and seized the opportunity to grab the knight's wrist, while simultaneously driving his longsword into his heart.

They stood facing off for a moment, then collapsed together.

Syrio lay in a pool of blood, blood gushing from his wounds. Ned, with all his might, dragged his weakened body to his side.

“Sirius…” A warm feeling welled up in Ned’s eyes, and he didn’t know what to say.

The Braavos swordsman managed a weak smile, blood streaming from the corner of his mouth.

"Looks like my teaching career is over," he said self-deprecatingly. "What a shame, I can't refund your tuition..."

He coughed up blood. "Your little wolf cub, Arya, she's special. Tell her her dance teacher is proud of her..."

Ned's heart ached. He gripped Syrio's hand tightly, struggling to suppress his grief: "I will."

Sirio's eyes began to glaze over as he looked up at the blue sky, as if he were seeing his hometown. He murmured, "Is today really that day?"

Before he could finish speaking, Cyrio Forel closed his eyes forever, with a peaceful smile, as if he had simply ended an elegant dance.

Ned had almost no time to mourn, because more trouble was on its way.

A dilapidated prison cart drove toward him, escorted by several fierce-looking warriors, along with a richly dressed old man and a group of chained slaves.

"Sir, this guy looks like he's still alive."

A warrior looked at the slave owner and said, "This man looks quite strong. He survived such injuries. He should fetch a good price."

"Hmm." The slave owner nodded, ordered them to hastily bury the body, and then stuffed Ned into the prison cart.

Ned was very weak and could only be at their mercy. He was chained and locked up with the other slaves.

The prison wagon bumped along the way south, passing several Dothraki checkpoints. Each time, the slave owners would hand over a few silver coins, and the guards would let them pass.

Ned was badly injured and dehydrated, and soon his eyes rolled back and he passed out.

(End of this chapter)