"Good morning, Attica," a maid woke me up by gently shaking me. "Your father wishes to see you miss."
I nod lightly, sit up, and look at the dress that was lying on the bed. It was an off white color, almost a creamy color, and was silky, and almost see through. It was a lovely dress, however. My maid walked out of my corridor, and right as she did, I stood up and walked to the bathroom. I let out a sigh. Today was the day, the day I'd meet my future husband, the "Khal" of the Dothraki tribe.
I climbed into the warm bath my maids set up for me. It smelt of vanilla, my favorite scent. I sat in the water for at least ten minutes, before I finally decided to get out. Hopefully my father would understand that I take my time. I got out of the bath, wrapped a towel around my body, and headed back to my bedroom. My father was sitting on the bed, his face held the regular impatience as it always had.
"Finally," he gruffly says, standing up from his spot. "You aren't even dressed and the Khal will be here soon. You'd better hurry up." He then walks closer to me, and looks up and down my body, still protected from the towel but was dripping water. "You're going to show off your womanly body, show them you're no longer a little girl." He took off the towel, making me shiver lightly. He looks down at my breasts, still pretty small, and then down to my long legs. "Yes, hopefully he will like your body. You must make him happy when you get married, got it?"
"Yes," I whisper, and he reaches up and caresses my cheek.
"Good," he murmurs. He then turns around and walks out.
Luckily for me, I had studied the Dothraki ways; so I knew some of their languages, and how they acted. One thing I was nervous about, and it was to happen, was the way they made love. They take women like a hound takes a bitch. Which is one way people in my kingdom do it too. I, however, don't call it making love.
"Miss, your father is getting impatient," my maid returns and a frown is placed on her face. "I don't mean to rush you, but I don't want him to hurt you either."
"Thank you," I nod and slip on the dress quickly. I keep my waist-long brown hair in its waves, and follow my maid down to the entrance. Letting out one more shaky breath, I walk up to my father. "I'm here."
"Finally," he scoffs, and then turns to a man that I didn't recognize. "Well, where are they?"
I tune out. I don't want these men to come and take me away from my kingdom. The only reason I'm getting married to this man I don't know is because my father wants an army to help take back our old land. The men there that stole everything from us; forced us to restart. I almost felt bad for this man—but then remembered everything he put me through as a child—and I tried to make him feel better growing up, giving him everything he wanted (not my virginity). But he's too arrogant to serve and enjoy.
Then there was the sound of the horses, and my father immediately perked up. I look up at him, and then look forward with a blank face. It was hard to hide my emotions; fear, nervousness, confusion. What would this man look like? My question was quickly answered as a herd of five men and their horses galloped to the cobblestone path. It was them. I didn't know which one he was, until one man with long hair took the front. I couldn't see him well enough to know whether or not he was handsome or foul.
The man that was just speaking with my father greets the men in their language, but quickly turns back to the common tongue. I was about to walk up to the men when my name was called, but my father quickly grabbed my hand and pulled me back. He leans down and whispers into my ear.
"Do you see how long his hair is?" he asks, and I nod. "Dothraki grow out their hair, and when they loose in combat, the chop it off so the whole world can see their shame. Khal Drogo has never lost a battle. He's a savage, of course he is. But he's one of the toughest fighters. And you will be his queen."
"Come forward milady," the man calls from the bottom of the stairs.
I listen to him, and my father releases his grip on my hand. I slowly descend the staircase, my eyes never leaving his. When I get closer, I notice how his brown eyes almost sparkle. They were beautiful, and so was he. He looked very strong, and I now saw how he could kill a thousand men, and never be defeated. When I finally reach him, he looks me up and down. I resist from covering up, I should be used to it by now. But something about him makes me nervous.
My heart drops when he turns around and gallops away, taking his men with him. My eyes drop to where his horse once was, and I could hear my father running down to the man.
"What was that?" he asks, his voice cracking in anger. "Did he not like her?"
"If he didn't like her," the man says calmly, "we'd know your majesty. The ceremony is over. Next up is her wedding."
That night I got little sleep. I was far too nervous—something I was used to by now—about getting married to "Drogo". I'm not entirely sure if that's his name, considering my father called him it and then called him a savage. I was mostly nervous for when we were to have sex, mostly because of the stories my mother used to tell me. When she gave my father her virginity, it hurt like no other. Drogo may not be my father, but I don't even know the man. He could be worse.
My mother also used to tell me not to waste my time with men that treated their lovers like sluts. That's how my father treated her before she died, and she absolutely hated it. Like me to Drogo, my mother was sold to my father to help another man's kingdom. However, my father broke the sell, and ended up tearing down this kingdom; which included my mother's family. Because of this, my mother committed suicide.
Finally, I had fallen asleep…
I had to bathe quickly, I had slept in apparently. Again, the vanilla oil was added into the water, making my skin silky smooth, and killed off any small hairs that grew on my body—minus the hair on my head—and killed any disease. When I finished bathing, my maid did my hair quickly. She pulled part of it back into a braid, a very small braid, in the back of it, and then twisted some of my hair so it looked like a crown that went around my head. When she finished she helped me into my white dress I was to wear for my wedding.
Although I studied some things about Dothraki, I haven't studied much on their wedding celebrations other than they give you gifts, and you're forced to agree to take them. Unless if they're weapons, then you kindly decline and tell them to give it to the Khal. That's basically it. When we finished my outfit, we were off to the wedding.
We arrived as quickly as possible. My father was swearing the whole time on the way here, considering we were late because of me sleeping in. But I ignored him and watched as the scenery changed from a fake land, to real scenery, trees everywhere. But then it started getting dull again. The trees didn't last for long, but now you could tell you were in Dothraki territory; there was blood, horse waste, and many tents. When we arrived to where the celebration was to be held, my eyes widened. There were plenty of people.
"Your husband will be sitting in a chair separated from everyone else," the man from yesterday tells me. I learned his name is Illyrio. "Don't be nervous Attica. You'll be okay."
"I know," I sigh, and use the help from a slave to get out of the carriage we used. "I'll be just fine."
I walk away from the men, but a few slaves follow me, probably to ensure I get to Khal safely. Of course I appreciated it, but from what I've seen—more like haven't seen—there's no word for "thank you" in Dothraki.
I reached Drogo in no time, after crossing paths with men fucking women like no other. It was awkward, to say the least. But I kept going, and now I'm directly in front of him. His eyes were inspecting me, up and down, all over that he could see. Then, finally, our eyes met. A servant tapped my back, which meant to go up and sit by him. I slowly walk up the stairs, my eyes observing my feet as I walk. I reached the chair that sat next to him, and took a seat. Slowly people started to bring up presents.
I look over at Drogo, who's watching a man pound into a whore, who was clearly enjoying being treated like a bitch. Drogo had a smile upon his face, which made me look away and blink rapidly. That made me even more nervous; does he know I am pure? I couldn't tell. I watched as a male carried up a box, and inside was a bunch of weaponry, like knives and whips. Drogo nodded at the man, and he placed it at his feet. Drogo goes back to watching the two, just to see another man came and now they were fighting.
He says something, but I couldn't understand it. Like before, there's a small smile on his face. He enjoys watching two men fight with deadly weapons? I turned back to the fight just to see one of the men slice the man's throat, and then spin him around so he faced Drogo and I. I winced at his injury, and then I watched as the man who won cut off the now dead male's braid. He threw it on the staircase in front of us, turned back, found the woman he was fucking, and continued at it.
"Come," I could hear Illyrio say, gaining my attention, and then two servants walk up with a box, which looks heavy. They place it by my feet, and then open it up to a black egg. My eyes widen, and I reach out to grab it. "It's a Griffon egg, supposedly the last one. Although it's basically a rock now, isn't it beautiful to the eyes?"
"Yes," I gasp, admiring the shiny scales on the egg. "Thank you, Illyrio."
He nods at me, and then looks behind me. The Khal stood up, and looked over at me. I placed the egg back in the case, and stood up after him. He started to walk down the steps, and since his legs are so long, he could take two at a time. Me on the other hand, I couldn't. I had to run to catch up with him but decided I could just walk behind him. I followed the direction he went in, and then I found him. He was holding a white horse that had a black mane and tail. My eyes widened as I quickly walked up to it. He watched as I placed my hand on the horse's nose.
"Anha athfiezar," I say to him.
"Dothralat," he replies, obviously quite surprised that I knew some Dothraki. I didn't know what he just said, however."
I stepped back as he stepped forward. He grabbed me by my waist, and hoisted me gently onto the horse. I let out a breath of air, thinking he'd hurt me or something. He walked to his horse, and got on. Before we started, my father walked up to me and pinched underneath my thigh. I bit my lip, trying not to protest.
"Make sure he gets what he wants," he tells me quietly, "make him happy. You're his whore now."
I didn't reply, but I knew Drogo was watching my father talk to me. When he backed away, Drogo then started. We slowly moved up and down hills, further and further away from the camp. That's when I really started to get nervous. If he was hurting me, or anything like that, no one could come up and help me. I was on my own now.
We finally stopped at the top of a hill. He stopped the horses, and I got off. I walked over to the hill's edge, and watched the ocean. He started to set up blankets to make a small bed. I let out a breath of air, and remembered how he enjoyed watching the woman get fucked hard by the man—who was very tall and muscular. Khal is even bigger, however. Which made me very nervous. I closed my eyes as I heard him walk closer. I wish I could just faint right now so this could be avoided. I turned around when he got closer, and I watched as he looked up and down my body. He grabbed a strand of hair, and twirled it around his finger gently. I let out a shaky breath, and watched as he continued to walk around me.
"Anha tikh vo let yer dogat," he says in Dothraki. I only understood I, let, and suffer.
"anha tat vo know fin yer hash asto.," I reply, "Dothraki vo anna lekh."
He just continues to slowly walk around me, and then he starts to take off my dress. I gasp when it fully falls, and cover myself up as much as I could. But he roughly grabbed my arms, pulling them down to my side.
"No," he sternly says.
"Do you speak the common tongue?" I ask stupidly.
"No," he replies after a while.
I let out a sob as he pushes me down onto my hands and knees. I was glad we moved over to the blankets so at least I was on something soft. He took off his pants, and put himself at my entrance, gently rubbing against me. He then pushes in quickly. I let out a cry of pain, but he doesn't stop.
"Nakho!" I cry out, but he doesn't hear me. Instead he keeps going.
His hands gripped my waist, and one moved up to my shoulder, gripping it enough to bring me pain. This wasn't fun for me. It hurt, all over. Like my mother had warned me. His thrusts became deeper and harder, and it felt as if my insides were being torn to shreds. I just wanted the pain to end…
New story up! I'm not for sure when I'll update my other ones yet, however. Anyways, a warning now after the graphic scene, there will be more lemons and such. I'm sorry if you don't enjoy this!
WORD BANK:
(Some of these words aren't correct; I use a translator (I'm not Dothraki, I kinda need it xD) and when I re-put the words in, they change.
ALSO When I get more into the story, I probably won't have so many of these word banks. Mostly because it'll be the language she uses all the time. So I'll probably link the website I'm using (and thank you to the creator of this fantastic website. It helps a lot!)
Anha athfiezar— I love
Dothralat— Ride
Anha tikh vo let yer dogat— I will not let you suffer
anha tat vo know fin yer hash asto.— I do not know what you're saying
Dothraki vo anna lekh—Dothraki not my tongue
Nakho—Stop (end)
