Important A/N: For the safety of readers, I want to assure everyone that while this is heavily based off the storyline of Daenerys and Drogo, it will be very different in the long run. Meaning, there will be no graphic depictions of violence or sexual assault. I like to keep things happy and healthy here. In this chapter there are brief mentions of execution, but nothing gory.

Disclaimer: I do not own Fairy Tail or plot lines/themes from Game of Thrones.

War was an all encompassing word, no matter what lands someone hailed from or who sat on their grandiose thrones. The word hung like death over the valley her parents had raised up- the tall wildflowers and wheat swayed unsurely, shivering straight through to their roots, and the clouds rolled in to block out the sun. Blue skies faded to gray and the earth lost its rich feeling and color as it slipped through her fingers. Even the almighty war lords and kings raised their heads in recognition of the thing that ruled over them all. It came like a bitter wind off the first dark month and stayed long after the vegetation grew green and tall once again. Unrest settled in her bones and sealed her chosen fate on that last Spring as the threat of war crested on the horizon of her territory, breathing itself into a physical thing no longer to be ignored. The sunrise broke over the hills and for a moment, everything was white- quiet and pure and untainted- but then the warm glow of the sun bled red and orange blotches tipped the edges of soft clouds. The earth was thawed and the days were at their longest, yet she shivered. While the gray skies relented to the change as they did each year, the red sunrise was brash and streaked sinisterly- mockingly.

She was the daughter of vast lands and intellect; she would marry whatever suitor there was with an army that could lead- save- her people through the times of bloodshed ahead. Her armies had logic and strategy, but lacked a consistent brute strength and the renegade decision-making that won wars in those dark times. While she had spent years in her father's library, memorizing the stories and breathing in the fantasies that promised her happiness and love and adventure, reality turned with the tide. Waves had beaten against her hopes, leaving her smooth and unyielding to change.

Her people were worth this much.

Silk ribbons and unsullied crinoline swished in her peripherals, dashing past the library and through the winding halls of the estate. Sunshine spilled through every open window and glittered teasingly in their soft curls as their tinkling laughter echoed sweetly. The daughters of her council and the future of her lands were those she would miss most. Their lessons were held in the estate at her behest, and so, they played during their breaks. The servants of the household weathered their chases and shrill laughter with the same patience they had afforded to her when she was young and her parents had been alive and life had been a great game.

She knew their names and their families and the trades that were passed down along their lines that kept the small settlement deep in the crook of her valley alive and thriving. Levy would set off into a land she did not know, did not love, and did not understand with her head held high. She was fearful, but this was the sole saving grace for their modest place in the country- one that hadn't seen the blackened scars of war in centuries. She hoped with all her heart for the battle to stay far from their territory; that should war truly break out, the hills would stay lush with peace and the water crisp and clear, singing along with the contentment of her people.

She couldn't- would not- bear to see the fields scorched and the rivers dyed red.

If she could not ensure their safety in an alliance, then she would be a disgrace to her lineage, a sign of disappointment and despair to her people. And that was not an option. Never mind that she was reduced to helping her people by auctioning herself off to the strongest people and highest bidders; what mattered now was that her betrothed would approve, she would give him sons, and her home would be protected as promised.

Levy observed the front gate from her window in the library, the one with a ledge to recline in and lined with downy cushions. She pulled her knees to her and rested her head on the warmed glass of the window, watching almost detachedly as the golden dirt of the road was kicked up. It clouded the trail and her view until their rough and strong horses stood right before the door that crisp morning, her prayed-to-be betrothed leading them. She stood from her window, still dressed in bedclothes that breached her usual practical modesty, and recoiled behind the drapes when a man with a horrid scar caught her gaze. For the briefest of seconds, she wondered if he was their leader- from the assurance to broad shoulders to the formidable gait he used to approach the unfamiliar land he found himself in-, but then her eye caught the ratted braid that trailed over a painted shoulder and the way everything moved in succession to his voice.

He was their leader, the roughest looking of the lot that waited on their horses. For the first time, she doubted herself. Her lineage was nothing in comparison; there were no thrones or limitless riches or beauty to add up to anything outstanding in worth. Her estate was heavenly to her, but plain to the rest of the warring world, and the only thing Levy had to offer was a possibility. A possibility that many a well-versed suitors- that she would have gladly married- passed over. She was slight of frame and there was no promise in the minimal sway to her hips. Not wide nor physically appealing, meaning bearing many children could be problematic, taking her and their children with the dangers, and a marriage bed would be boring and only meet what was obligated for consummation at best.

Intellect did not a desired wife make.

Not to mention the viscous tales of the Kurogane's men taking women with the turn of every moon. She was sure to be nothing in comparison to the strong women that warmed their beds.

A soft knock on the door interrupted her thoughts, the hard set to her brow melting away at the soft face of the cook's assistant appearing from around the door. She curtsied and attempted a helpful smile for Levy. "Beg pardon, but the Kurogane awaits, m'lady."

Levy's returning smile was slow and felt unpracticed; the decision had weighed on her mind for longer than anyone could say and it had its effect on her dwindling spirits. She closed her eyes and sighed, "So he does. Thank you, I shall be down in a moment."

Lady McGarden, her mother, had been a woman of strength and a fiery attitude that everyone said was passed along to her daughter. Levy remembered her smile, how she spoke soft, but sure, of her daughter's future. A thing to be happy about and anticipated, wrought with peace and family. She would grow and men of all the lands would hear of Levy's beauty, heart, and intellect. None of them would be worth her and sent back on their horses only after a meal to last them on the trip home. One day, a knight would happen along their estate, hungry and thirsty from some far off place. The household's staff would work him him back to health and the first dinner he would attend with the family, he would be absolutely taken with Levy and his favorite thing about her wouldn't be the estate or the valley or her parents, but her smile.

The image was laughable now.

A man riding in on his steed, wary and traipsing through their front gate just to fall in love with her. He would throw away sword and chain mail and renounce his loyalty to the far off kingdom with towers so high they disappeared into the sky for her hand. He would trade it all in for her modest home and valley, looking at her with complete adoration and love. The knight would become her husband and rule alongside her, rather than over her; they would spend many a year visiting the small settlement and reading her favorite books- that were coincidentally his favorites as well. Her mother had painted Levy a picturesque existence, perfectly contained and predictable like her storybooks.

She would be so lucky for a husband that spoke to her, let alone loves her or is faithful.

Lady McGarden had passed when Levy was seven, leaving the young girl only with overly sweet happy endings. She imagined if her mother had lived, those stories would have evolved with her growing world. As she entered into adulthood, she would have taught her daughter to demand the respect she deserved; that while things don't always work out they way she wished, a child of the house McGarden made their riches with what they had. A McGarden would hold their head high and enter the proverbial battle grounds dressed in wit and spirit. But Lady McGarden was not there and Levy had had to make those changes to the stories on her own. A man was only a man- Levy would hold the control of what power he had over her.

She would mourn the loss of a merrier life, but she would not let that overtake her fate. The Kurogane was a man at the end of the day, the stark paint against his dark skin and menacing scowl wouldn't change that. The stories of his clan were gruesome, but Levy hadn't been a faint-of-heart in years.

War had changed her and, as she straightened her shoulders, she would make it for the better.

Her barbarous mind had quipped that he wasn't terrible to look at, rather handsome in his uncouth tradition. Metal and scars and the beginning traces of facial hair covered his face, so in contrast with the smooth and pale faces that had come and gone from her estate. Levy was given ample time to consider him, as he paid her no mind when she first entered the long forgotten war room, undoubtedly confusing her for a girl of the kitchens fetched by the council heads to appease him in any earthly need he had. Levy was used to this reaction, but she would demand his eyes look upon her; she raised her head- tilting it in just a way for the rising sun to catch in her modest, but shining circlet- and cleared her throat.

The man with raven braid that fell to his waist snapped his attention to the glittering jewels on her headpiece, then glanced over her coolly with eyes of molten heat. A string of dialect she did not know rolled off his tongue to the man on his right with even darker skin than his own. The Kurogane nodded once in her direction and if she wasn't already aware that he did not speak her language, she would have been furious for lack of reverence he held for her .

Before Levy could think on the behavior further, the scarred man that sat on the right bowed his head to her and her council. "What does the lady ask for precisely, in exchange?"

Her eyebrows climbed to her hairline. "The Kurogane does not waste his time with pleasantries- or the chance at least for a lady to sit."

A spark of humor- acceptance, she later realized- flashed in the older man's eyes and a slow smile made its way to his weathered face. "Aye, it is time for our people to move once more and he does not like leaving them for long periods of time. Strong ties run from the leader to his people, moving and breathing as one. You will forgive the rudeness it is perceived as?"

Levy knew the power and play of words, they were her saving grace. A pleased air curled her mouth as she noted how the man did not apologize for what it was, but that she viewed it wrongly. "Aye, we all have our customs and far be it from this table to fault a man of caring for his people."

He nodded, a slow and regarded ease in the motion rather than the clipped movement she was accustomed to. "Now, for your offer in excahnge?"

The fact that he had bypassed his own introduction- any of their introductions- didn't go unnoticed by her. She knew not one name other than the frightened curse of the title Kurogane and Levy could not dismiss the strange nagging at the back of her mind, an instinct that told her it was a game, a test. It didn't phase her, she knew- all too well- the rules of this sport.

An elder opened his mouth to respond, but she held her hand up. Levy arose on shaky knees and bowed her head, using the action to hide the nervous swallow. "Sir, we do not ask for money or servants," her voice cracked on the word. The Kurogane's tribe had been plagued for years by others that took their people without question and owned them. Levy breathed deeply through her nose and exhaled almost silently through her teeth. "I-I only wish to present myself in exchange-" she squared her shoulders and willed herself to remember her late lady mother. She may have been smaller than her petite mother, but she imitated the delicate and confident tilt to the woman's chin and pulled her shoulders back respectively. "-for the Kurogane to form an alliance. War is just past the reach of our fingertips and I want my people to be protected."

"Aye, I will relay that, Lady McGarden."

Roguish words passed between the Kurogane and his right hand, a snort of derision from the prior and another slew of uncouth sentences escaped the leader. The humiliating words familiar to her in any language.

What could she possibly have that I would want or need?

An act that would have her beheaded in the wrong company, she narrowed her eyes and all but spat, "A son. There hasn't been an infant death in a century, babes survive and grow in the McGarden line; together with that of your own peoples' lineage, a boy will be bred to make war lords quake in their boots at the mere sight of him. If war should come, undoubtedly, the Kurogane will be in want of an heir and a faithful mother to his child. I have no lovers or anyone seeking my hand nor are there any other living relatives to conquest the estate, so there will be no objections should he desire my offer."

Levy held her breath, she could control the gender of her child as much as the tide and the second part was true about a baby's survival, though it played heavily on superstitions- along the fact that the McGardens did not live in squalor and their crops were plentiful to suffice an infant's needs. The Kurogane's tribe lived off the land as she did, but even closer to it, they inhabited tents and rode horses. Territory she was unfamiliar with in study and practice, she had no idea how safe it was to give life to such a fragile thing in those conditions. All Levy McGarden had was a bluff and slim hope that he was superstitious enough to believe her. If she bore a girl, she could only pray the man before her was merciful enough to love the child for being his and allow her a chance to bear another if her body could withstand it.

Which was why there were no other children to the McGarden name. Her mother had had enough troubles with her and turned barren after an illness the winter following Levy's birth. She plotted for every outcome though; her father had raised her, in his short years with his daughter, to be cautious and thorough in this life. Should she bear a girl and present the Kurogane with no other children, Levy would return to her estate with her baby and bring the child up in the ivory halls she loved so dearly- the only place she would truly regard as home. He would have an endless list of women waiting to bear his son and despite the scars that marred his face, he was young yet. A slew of boys could be produced before he was forty and she would be left to her own devices; a jest among his people and nothing to be remembered.

He surprised her though, as his right hand translated her promise. His murderous scowl stretched into something more recognizable- more handsome- but stopped before she could decipher whether it was a smirk or the beginnings of a sneer. No matter what it had about to become, she got her answer all the same, the Kurogane met Levy's eye evenly and nodded once. Her heart and stomach raced for her throat, freezing her tongue against the roof of her mouth.

So, she returned his gesture.

Relief and worry warred within her. She couldn't count her winnings just yet, nothing was official and there was no son to be had at the present time. It was merely an acknowledgment that the Kurogane liked something in her words and from what he had seen. Stories about his tribe were infamous; if she had been without his good graces, there was no doubt in Levy's mind that the people of the valley would find her head on a staff with her tongue cut out. Women and men had been through worse for less and it would be her first peek into the mercy the rugged man held- whether for her, for the love of one's people, or an heir, it didn't matter.

Levy would be sure to not soon forget it.

Aided by a sliver of assurance she had no idea she still had after her little speech, Levy gracefully lowered to her seat and signaled for a maid that had stood waiting in the corner of the room. "If our company agrees, you will see to it that their wishes are met?"

"Aye, m'lady." The young girl nodded once, nervously ticking her eyes to the large men and back to Levy. "Would you wish for anything else, Lady McGarden?"

Her eyes trailed to the right hand once more, his body was angled more to the Kurogane, but she knew when she was being watched without eyes being directly on her. "Aye, with their permission and instruction, I would like to ensure their horses are ready for the long ride home. Resupply their skins with the water from the spring outside the kitchen and some of the venison from the cellar."

"Yes, miss." The maid bowed, her head low, but the soft curve of a smile flashed for only Levy to see. It had gone better than expected.

This time, it was the Kurogane that moved first, standing from his seat with his men following closely behind. Levy cursed herself as she visibly startled at the movement, unused to the hard gaze and presence of him, but his right hand lowered his head to her, drawing her attention- and eye contact- away from the formidable leader.

"We must decline your offer of hospitality for the day, as you said, it is a long ride back and we must prepare to move our camp. If you would give us a fortnight to think on your offer?"

To say that she wasn't gleeful for no outright refusal would have been a sore misreading of her mood. The weight of a valley eased a little more off her shoulders and a small, but genuine smile finally graced her features. "O-Of course."

"But if it pleases you, we would happily accept your gracious offer to restock on our skins and be able to tend to our horses. If you will excuse us."

"Aye, I'll leave you to it. A safe journey to your party, as well."

The right-hand bowed deeply and her eyebrow raised, as the endearment was meant for those well above her station. "Aye, you have given us a great honor to think about and no decision will be met quickly to give you the respect of consideration."

Levy's tongue stuck to the roof her mouth with surprise as she slowly returned his bow, making it even with his own.

The Kurogane scoffed and rolled his eyes, the gesture not lost on her as he made jest about the formal tone the darker skinned man used. The action was almost charming, a tiny glimpse as it was into the real relation he had with- what was no doubt- an old friend. He made for the door without a word and ticked his head respectively when a servant jumped to open the door for him. The doors closed behind their succession, the stable hand close at their heels chattering on about their animals and Levy blinked confusedly. She was sure it had been a tricking of the dawning sun, but for a moment, she thought she saw his eyes slide to her one last time as he turned away.

The dark skinned man she spoke to, the one scarred along his eye, nodded sagely to her advisors and dipped his head kindly to her one last time. The action found Levy wishing that, despite his obvious age over her, he was the man she was offered to. There was a steady patience and wisdom that softened his dark eyes, shining past the ragged skin over his left temple and cheek, and beckoned her to like him on that first meeting. But alas, he was the advisor- the right hand man, acting as the go-between for the two parties, until she learned their language.

Without another word, they left her parents' hall, trumping to the stables, mounting their stallions and merely riding off the way they came. Should the rough warrior of the East accept her proposal and alliance, Levy would be married to the dragon before the next new moon.

The widening crescent hung heavily in her morning sky.

A/N: This is a continuing story and while I have a good chunk of it written out (I started this story almost a year ago, if you can believe it), but I can't give any promises for quick updates. My work schedules pretty full these days, so I haven't had a lot of time to write. I appreciate the patience. This has become a fairly big project and I would appreciate some feedback- it gets the creativity going and will feed the fuel for updating chapters.

As aforementioned, this will be a loose interpretation. Gajeel and Levy are only in Khal Drogo and Daenery's position, but they're still them.

Huge thank you to SilverInklett for listening to my ideas and the million times I said, "I need to work on GoT AU." She was a very patient and great beta for the story as well.