Chapter 1: But then you never think
Raksha
I walked silently across the grounds, my lips twitching into a snarl as I saw my sister and brother—I use the term loosely—waiting on the steps of the palace they were currently living in. How dare he? Yalianis snarled. I narrowed my eyes just in time to see Viseryis snarl something at Dany, but on my foolish brother it looked more like he had a particularly bad twitch. By this time I was nearly upon them, and the man behind my siblings gasped and my brother whirled around to see me. "Oh, shit!" He swore, quite loudly I might add. I smiled wickedly and I felt Yalianis purr inside me. Her satisfaction and eagerness to kill would be disconcerting, maybe even scary in a different situation, but this man had threatened my family, threatened my baby sister. I wasn't entirely sure if the eagerness to kill was solely my Dragons. At the moment I arrived in front of my siblings, so did a group of very dangerous looking men, dressed in leathers and furs and riding horses. By their olive skin and long, dark braids I would call them a Dothraki. Suddenly, it clicked. Why I had felt Dany calling for my help, praying for me to save her. The Dothraki's horses were startled when I suddenly slammed into Viseryis, tackling him to the ground. I held his legs with my knees and both his wrists with one hand, my forearm across his neck. "So this was your great plan?" I asked. My Dragon nature seeped into my words, a disturbing mix between feline and reptilian. There was a hint of a snarl and the lingering trace of a hiss in my voice. Viseryis knew, now. He had royally pissed off a Dragon. Dany gasped and dropped beside me, frantically urging me to stop, and in the cacophony of noise between the foreigners yelling and the man trying to explain, accompanied with my sisters urging and my brothers struggling, I had had enough. I growled and rolled backwards into a roll, my brother stuck in a head lock, bent in half. Dany was weeping, looking completely distraught. "You," I growled at the man, "You will translate for me." He snapped to attention and nodded immediately. "Ask who the leader of this group is." The man did not hesitate a second before motioning to me and asking my question. A tall, proud man, with tree trunk arms and a braid longer than all the rest made a harsh noise in what I assumed to be his language but could have passed for the snarl of a mountain lion. The man said, "This is Khal Drogo. He is the leader of his herd." I scanned him over. In a one on one fight he would be a challenge, but only if I wasn't armed. I could beat him with a sword no doubt. "What exactly was his arrangement with my dear brother?" I spat the word, the taste of it bitter on my tongue. This time the man did hesitate and he asked my question with a stutter. The man growled out another reply, and the man, now shaking, repeated, "Drogo was to take the princess as a wife, in return for the aid of his herd in Viseryis' quest to take back the iron throne." My lips twitched. Then my fingers. Sensing the hate and rage rolling off of me in waves, the horses the men rode in on startled and danced backwards. The men seemed uneasy. Yalianis thrashed inside her cage I kept her in. He was planning on sending Dany, sweet, innocent Dany, into the arms and bed a foreign man who will expect things she has never done before, expose her to things she would never dream of, let alone do? No. I wouldn't allow it. I roared, a fierce battle cry I saved for special occasions, and I slammed my fists into my newly released brother. He fell to the ground with a weak cry. I kicked him and snarled, my chest heaving with the intensity of my anger. "Up." I commanded. I didn't raise my voice, but I had yielded to Yalianis, letting her take care of my family, and my voice resonated around the courtyard just as loudly as it would have if I had screamed. "Now. Fight like a man and meet your end like a warrior. UP!" He stood shakily and struck out blindly. I caught his hand and twisted his arm behind his back. "Now," I purred, "Prepare to face death," I opened my mouth to reveal my now sharp teeth and hovered over his throat to let the message sink in. "Raksha!" Dany's voice pierced the silence like a sword, and I tensed as the transition from beast to woman occurred. I sighed, my breath causing the hair on the back of Viseryis' neck to stand up. I dropped him and he whimpered and scrambled away. "Yes, little hatchling?" I asked. The look of total confusion on the Dothraki people's faces—They're still here,-I noted with irritation, was probably due to the sudden change in my demeanor. The soft croon I reserved for loved ones was the exact opposite of my battle cry. "You can't kill him. We must go through with this deal! You mustn't harm the Dragon!" I sighed. After all this, she still refused to believe that I, the bastard child of the mad king, a mere slave girl could possibly be the Dragon. "You must understand, hatchling," I started, though I could already see the denial in her eyes, the determination to damn herself to a life she could in no way want, "this deal will not happen. I will not let you marry for anything other than love, and I will not let you lay with a man until you choose so. I swear it on the grave of my mother. Hells, I'll swear it on the grave of our mad father. I will not let you through with this." The man, who had been translating for me this entire time—Idiot—stuttered out this proclamation while shaking and crying, although he did have the self-control to keep from shitting himself where he stood. Drogo roared and said, in warbled and slaughtered common tongue-"No wife-No herd." Dany cried now, sobbing as she said, "I have to, Rak, I have to!" I shook my head. No. She wouldn't be able to handle this man with his strange customs and blood thirst. No. If he wanted a bride, he would get one. One hell of a bride indeed. I turned to my brother and said, "I will wed this Khal Drogo. On one condition. You will never touch a hair on Dany's head. Or I. Will. Slaughter you." My brother nodded, fearful of what I would do to him if he refused. Drogo seemed to catch on and suddenly roared something in his tongue, and the translator said, "He is upset that you are not giving him what he came for." I leaned over and whispered into the translator's ear. He in turn whispered in mine. I thought this particular message would be best coming from me. "Khal Drogo. If you are displeased because you think my body inferior to my little sister's I assure you I will more than suffice. If you are uncomfortable, because I pose much more threat to your masculinity and superiority over a mere woman that will be your wife than my sister, I must also assure you that I do not attack unprovoked. If you do not find abrasive women attractive, then I am afraid you are out of luck, because I have only ever been submissive to one man, and he was a mountain lion. Literally. If you can't get over your barbaric male pride enough to accept the offer as it stands, then I am afraid you are also out of luck, for I am a fierce warrior and a fast learner. Will you support my family in taking our throne back in exchange for my hand in marriage?" I kept my face stoic, but inside I was hoping to death that I had not mispronounced anything. A slip of my tongue and I could actually be insulting his mother, and I didn't want to insult anyone any more than I already have today. Drogo and his men didn't say anything for a while. Neither did we. Then, without a word, Drogo turned and left, his men close behind. I turned to my brother and gave him a sinister smile before saying, "I doubt you thought anything like that could happen. I doubt you thought on this stupid little plan at all. But then, you never think do you…Brother?"