While Maximus was unconscious, his mind was placed in a dark space and in front of him stood a giant figure, luminous and imposing. He didn't recognize the figure in front of him, but he could guess that what just happened to him was probably caused by the figure in front of him.
"Maximus," the figure spoke, his voice echoing in the vast emptiness as he extended his out hand. "Your presence in this world hasn't gone unnoticed, at least for me. I can't speak for the other powerful deities and forces out there. But I have taken a keen interest in you."
"Why?" Was all Maximus managed to ask.
"Because not only have you managed to unite a large portion of the Dothraki people, but you have also secured their loyalty by utilizing your understanding of their culture which I find intriguing. At first, I was wondering what your intentions were, but now that I know, I am curious to see how you will transform the Dothraki from a nomadic people to a proper civilization, and how your rise in power will affect the rest of the world." The figure stated.
"Is this a test?" Maximus asked, his voice echoing through the silent void. "Am I being judged?"
The figure chuckled, "Yes indeed you are, and you have passed the test by defeating the masked man and his followers proving to me that you are a capable warrior and leader," the figure added.
Maximus narrowed his eyes, "What do you want from me?"
"I do not desire anything from you, Maximus. I am merely a god for the Dothraki people whom I mainly leave to their own affairs until somebody like you comes along to disrupt their way of life.
"I offer you but a proposal, Maximus. You continue to guide the Dothraki towards evolution, and I shall grant you, my blessing. Decline, and you will be left to your own devices with the other forces of the world," the figure stated in a tone that was neither a threat nor a promise but something in between.
Maximus considered his words carefully. He had not come this far just to turn back now. With a heavy sigh, he nodded. "I accept."
A chuckle echoed through the void as the figure lifted its hand, and a light enveloped Maximus.
"When next you wake," the figure said, his voice resonating through the light. "You'll find my power within you. Use it wisely, Maximus."
And then darkness swallowed him whole.
When Maximus woke up, he found himself back in his own tent, Olorin at his side. His body was already healed from the damage he had taken by the masked man.
Olorin looked relieved. "You gave us quite the scare, my lord."
Maximus barely registered his words as he flexed his hand, feeling an unknown power coursing through his veins.
As Maximus began to rise from his bed, Olorin rushed forward to support him. "Take it easy, my lord. You've been unconscious for nearly a day."
Maximus pulled away from him gently. "I feel fine, Olorin. More than fine really," he said, standing fully upright.
Olorin took a few steps back, his eyes widening in awe as he glanced at Maximus. "I believe our encounter with the masked man has resulted in something extraordinary," he muttered.
"Yes, indeed Olorin," Maximus finally managed to say, "I believe I've been blessed by the Great Stallion himself."
His voice echoed with a latent power that sent shivers down Olorin's spine. Maximus walked towards the entrance of his tent, pushing aside the flaps to glance out into their encampment. The Dothraki men were busying themselves with their tasks, unaware of the drastic change their leader had undergone. He had completed the quest that he received during the battle but decided to look at it later.
———
Meanwhile, within Westeros, things were starting to kick off as news of Prince Rhaegar's disappearance with Lyanna Stark spread. Whispers and rumors filled the halls of every castle, leaving a tension that lingered in the air like a heavy fog. Over in the North, Eddard Stark and his father, Lord Rickard Stark, were consumed by anger and concern over the sudden disappearance of their beloved Lyanna. The North would not let this slide, they understood the grave implications of Rhaegar's reckless action.
In response Lyanna's eldest brother, Brandon Stark, went to Kingslanding and stood in front of the red keep threatening Prince Rhaegar's life.
Though Rhaegar himself was not present, King Aerys was, and he ordered Brandon's arrest. Brandon's father Lord Rickard was summoned to King's Landing in response to his sons' actions. And in the trial that followed, both Brandon and Rickard were killed by order of King Aery's with wildfire.
However, King Aery's wasn't satisfied with this and had sent a raven to Jon Arryn ordering him to send him the heads of both Eddard Stark and Robert Baratheon.
But Jon Arryn refused, instead summoning his forces and raising his banners. The grand old man of the Vale had fostered both Eddard Stark and Robert Baratheon in his youth, and he would not willingly send their heads to the Mad King.
This act of defiance was what sparked the fires of rebellion, a war that would come to be known as Robert's Rebellion.
Outraged at his refusal, King Aerys declared Jon Arryn a traitor. Robert Baratheon, who was betrothed to Lyanna Stark before her disappearance, joined forces with Jon Arryn and thus the first alliances of the rebellion were formed.
News spread quickly throughout Westeros. In Casterly Rock, Tywin Lannister watched the unfolding chaos with cold anticipation. The lion was always ready to pounce; he knew when to bide his time and when to strike. For now, he waited, his keen eyes observing all from within his fortress.
The Reach stirred as well; House Tyrell whispering plans in secret gardens while their fields bloomed with golden roses. Mace Tyrell held council with his most trusted advisors, his mother Olenna amongst them, plotting their course in this changing tide.
Amidst all the chaos, the Iron Islands remained a seething cauldron of potential rebellion. The Greyjoys, with their stormy history and contentious relationship with the mainland, were always a wild card.
Balon Greyjoy watched from his castle on Pyke, his eyes filled with a savage glee. He saw in the mainland's turmoil the opportunity for his long-desired dream, independence for the Iron Islands. Yet he too knew better than to act hastily. He bided his time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.