Visereys laid the point of his sword between Daenerys' breast and slid it downward over the curve of her belly. She backed up and sat down, allowing her brother to, once again, take control and for his sword to follow her movements.
"I want what I came for," he told her. "I want the crown he promised me. He bought you, but he never paid for you. Tell him I want what I bargained for, or I'm taking you back. You and the eggs both. He can keep his bloody foal. I'll cut the bastard out and leave it for him." The sword pushed through her silks and pricked at her navel. Dany could feel beads of blood trickling down where the point bore into her. She said nothing, taking in the man who had once been her brother, remembering the man who had raised her, the man she once looked up to. The crazed, drunken eyes that stared daggers back at her were ones she did not recognize. Jhiqui, her handmaid, could be heard translating under her breath, and all the tent was silent. Only some could comprehend the Common Tongue, but the long sword that was still bearing into the surface of the soft swell of her stomach, everyone understood.
Daenerys heard Khal Drogo's gruff voice, "Rekke, m'aresakea norethi fitte." I will give him what he asks for. Goosebumps spread through her body, her blood running cold, the temperature of the tent dropping ten degrees.
"What did he say?" the man before her asked testingly.
"He says yes." Dany paused, letting out a breath she didn't realize she had been holding. "That you shall have a golden crown that men will tremble to behold." He smiled. That was what tore her later, the most pitiful part was his smile. The smile she had known growing up. One she used to see often, one of a small child being rewarded. Daenerys heard the little bells in her sun and star's hair quietly tinkering as he came over to her. Visereys had lowered his sword, but Dany knew him well and did not let her gaze stray from him. She felt Khal Drogo's arm come around her and his hand stopped on her delicate belly, gently caressing where the point had punctured her. Instinctively, she met his touch with hers, placing her hand atop his. Once the Khal was reassured that his Khaleesi was unharmed, he muttered, "Nevakhi vekha maan." Seize him. In an instant men were at Visereys' sides, gripping him firmly. The man to his right quickly shattered his arm with an effortless jab, causing Visereys to scream out and struggle against them.
Daenerys blinked slowly and turned her head to the Khal whose large hand was still upon the stallion that rode inside her. She looked up at him. Her eyes looked saddened but determined, and she, almost effortlessly, kept up her placid demeanor. All the while, Visereys screamed about being 'the dragon' and of betrayal. Khal Drogo had had enough and barked an order at other men. They quickly scrambled to pour the broth that sat above the fire onto the ground and set the cauldron back in it's place. The Khal threw in a necklace of pure gold to melt over the fire, the sound of it hitting the cauldron echoing in the coldness that had fallen over the tent.
"Dany…" the silver-haired man whimpered, "Dany, please. Tell them, sweet sister." The men beside him had lowered him to his knees.
"Look away, Khaleesi," Ser Jorah whispered to her, his voice full of warning and concern.
"No," she responded calmly; she delicately folded her arms across her belly.
The Khal seemed satisfied with the contents of the cauldron and removed it from the dancing flames. Visereys now understood and struggled harder, crying out more and more desperately. "You cannot do this! I AM THE DRAGON!"
"A crown for a king!" Khal Drogo roared, tipping the contents of the pot over the man that knelt before him. The scream of agony was inhuman as the gold ran down his face, thick and scalding. Smoke and screeches filled the tent. Finally, his misery was ended, and he dropped to the floor, the golden crown making a hollow clunk.
"Khaleesi?" Ser Jorah asked.
'He was no dragon,' she thought, her jaw clenched, 'Fire cannot kill a dragon.'