Rhaenys

The Dothraki Khal Drogo wed his princess on a humid summer day. Daenerys Targaryen was dressed in a beautiful dress of samite to match her lovely silver hair, a Valyrian trait. Her Khal looked a handsome enough man, with copper coloured skin and black hair done in a magnificent long braid with silver braids that touched his calves, but his was a cruel face and his eyes were as black as onyx.

Viserys had wanted everything to be perfect. This would be the day his reign began, he was fond of saying. Yet to him, Rhaenys had done a great misdeed. Drogo was initially planned to marry her, but Illyrio, the magister from Pentos, had advised against it.

'She does not have the Valyrian beauty, Your Grace. The Dothraki might feel cheated.'

To this Viserys had agreed, but it was not a secret that he wanted his sister for himself.

The Targaryens had been marrying brother to sister for ages, to preserve their blood, but that had not been the case for Rhaenys's father, Prince Rhaegar. The Prince had no sisters to marry so he married a Dornish Princess instead. Rhaenys had the Dornish olive skin and dark hair, but her eyes were hauntingly purple.

The Dothraki are a savage lot, Rhaenys decided, as she saw two men fighting for a dancing whore. The fight lasted two minutes and the winner went ahead and began to mount the nearest whore he could find.

Rhaenys felt especially sorry for Dany, hers was a kind soul and did not deserve this Khal for her husband. She looked so sad, probably thinking of the bedding. In Westeros she had heard, there was a strange bedding custom.

Illyrio Mopatis put a hand on her shoulder, and as a reflex she shrugged it off. Ever since Dorne, she recoiled at the mere touch of a stranger's hand. 'Princess, my friend here, Lord Varys, would like to speak to you privily, if it please you.' He pointed towards a strange, stout man in a heavy brown robe in roughspun, with cracked, mud-caked boots smelling of sweat. His face was hidden by a cowl, and his hands were drawn up into voluminous sleeves.

Rhaenys could only nod, as Illyrio guided her towards his friend. 'My dear princess,' the man said, as he let his hood slide and now she could see his face. His head was shiny with no hair on it, and there was none on his face either. He smiled at her in a mysterious way, as if assessing the value of a prize boar.

'Walk with us', the man said and offered his arm to her. 'I came as soon as I could, when I heard your uncle was plotting to sell you over to the Dothraki.'

'That would have been a disaster,' Illyrio agreed, 'It would have ruined years of planning.'

'Planning for what? Tell me', Rhaenys had never been more puzzled in her entire life.

'Tell me, princess, if you had to wed the Khal today, what would you have done?'

'Won his heart over, and used him to do my bidding.' The answer came oh so quickly to her, she herself had been doing quite a lot of plotting.

'And pray tell me, what would this bidding, in particular, be?' This Lord Varys asked her, his beady eyes searching her face.

Rhaenys thought a bit, she thought of her mother, the Princess Elia of Dorne, raped and murdered by the Mountain, she thought of the Usurper, who had been using dogs to kill them as long as she could remember. She remembered the babe Aegon, his head smashed in. But most of all, she thought of her father, her valiant, noble father, Rhaegar, going off to fight at the Trident.

Be brave, Rhaenys, you were born under the bleeding star, and you shall save the world.

And they told her the plan.

They went back to Dany when it was time for the bride gifts. Ser Jorah Mormont, an exiled Westerosi knight, gave Daenerys a number of books. Books on the history of the known world, tales of knights and maidens. She received clothes, jewellery, ornamented slippers and silver bells for her hair. Viserys gifted Dany with three handmaidens, Irri, Jiqhui and Doreah. Rhaenys knew they had cost him nothing.

Magister Illyrio, for his gifts, brought forth a great cedar chest in bronze. Dany opened it and were the finest silks and damasks of the Free Cities, and on top lay a beautiful dragon egg of stone. The egg was a sight to behold, black as the midnight sea, yet alive with scarlet ripples and waves. The colour was so rich that it looked as if encrusted in jewels.

'Where did you get this?' Dany gasped, as she held the egg in her hand.

'From the Shadow lands, beyond Asshai.' The magister answered. 'The aeons have turned it to stone, yet still it burns bright with its beauty.'

'I shall treasure it always'. Dany said.

When it came to Rhaenys she handed her sweet aunt the box of sheesham.

Inside was a crown, thin and slender, it was made of glass and Quartz, with beautiful black diamonds on the top.

Dany's eyes were filled with tears, while Viserys could not believe his eyes. 'Where did you...whe..how?' The crown had once belonged to queen Rhaella, they had sold it in one of the free cities. How Viserys had cried that night. Dany stood up and lay her arms around Rhaenys. The younger girl was petite, with small breasts and narrow hips, but soon she would grow to be one of the most beautiful women in the known world.

Khal Drogo gave Daenerys a magnificent Silver filly, and soon the wedding had ended.

Lord Varys had offered to take her to Westeros, her true home. The truth was, Rhaenys could remember her home as well as she could remember yestermorn. The dragon skulls in the throneroom, Baelor's sept at a distance from her bedchamber' window, the foul smell of King's Landing. She could remember the day she was born, with a bleeding comet above her. She could remember the way King Aerys the second had scrunched up his nose in distaste when he saw her, for she looked and smelled Dornish. She could remember Darla, the cook's daughter, who had died in her stead at the sack of King's Landing.

I must go home, she realised. And take what is mine, Vengeance, with fire and blood, if need be.