Have you ever stared out at the horizon, looking towards a home you do not know? Did you spend your days hoping and praying to your gods that someday you may return, and reclaim what was taken from you?
All my life, this has been the shared dreams of my brother an older twin. For them, Essos and the Free Cities we have been raised in are merely stepping stones towards a fleet that may carry us back to Westeros. To the Iron Throne, which my horrid brother is sure belongs to him. But a man as cruel as he is unfit to rule, just as our mad father was.
But while Viserys is an undeserving cowardly excuse of a King, my older twin is kind, honest, and quiet. Still, there's a strength and resolve in her eyes most do not see unless they truly look. Daenerys Stormborn, most call her, for the storm that waged during our birth. I am Jaenarys Fireborn, for the tree that burst into the flames the moment I came into this sad, monstrous world. She has taught me to be kind, just as my brother has taught me not to behave. But the fire that courses through my veins and makes me fight against the cruelty Viserys places upon us is all mine. He calls himself a dragon. The last dragon. But I know, deep down those are just more of his delusions.
While my sister bathes and is no doubt dressed in the finest of silk - our host Illyrio flooding my brother and ourselves with luxury in hopes he's earned Viserys's favor, I sit in my open-aired room, looking past the curtains to the sea beneath us. I've already bathed, the water steaming but my skin cool. My silver hair has been dried and braided, woven elaborately by the handmaids I've been assigned. The straps of my red dress fall down my shoulders, woven with silver, the bottom of the loose yet flattering dress sheer enough to see the tan sandals adorned on my feet. A three-headed dragon pins rest on my right breast.
To my side, a candle flickers yet remains lit. I smile and run my finger through it, soothed by the warm sensation yet unharmed. I know what I am. And I believe my brother is smart enough to have realized by now. And yet he remains deluded, referring to me as "useless wench". It is better than when he calls me "kinslayer", though. To him, I am a constant reminder that our mother is dead. Her last breath was my first.
Today is Daenerys's wedding day, if her groom-to-be approves. She is being married to the Khal of the Dothraki, in hopes they will provide my brother an army. They are ruthless warriors, barbaric and obsessed with horses, pillaging, raping, and fighting. They sound amazing.
There is a knock on my door and I stand. "Who is it?"
"Daenerys, Nary." My sister's musical voice shakes, and I rush to open my chamber and see her.
Her hair is dry and wavy, to strands braided back and tied together. Her dress is a light lavender and almost sheer, her nipples pointing out. The sleeves are soft and short. She looks the most uncomfortable I have ever seen her, and we used to live on the streets.
"Oh, Dany." I wrap my arms around her, the two of us silently crying. "I wish it was I brother was marrying off. You deserve more than he gives you."
"And you do not deserve my fate, hāedar." Little sister, the old Valyrian endearment Daenerys has taken to calling me.
"I am a kinslayer."
"Her death is not on you. How many times must I tell you to ignore Viserys." I nod.
"I suppose it's time, then."
Footsteps approach where we stand at my open door, and our tall, lean brother stares down at us, unamused yet his eyes scream of delight, no doubt about how we look. He is disgusting, and I pray there comes a day when he gets what he deserves.
"Ah, I see my two ravishing sisters are ready. It's best not to be late." More polite than he's ever been, he loops each arm around ours, escorting us down stairs to the agreed meeting place. Illyrio greets us with a slight bow, his people on the other side of the estate, getting into position.
"My King, my Princesses. I must say, you both look divine."
My sister smiles and I curtsy, feeling Viserys's glare on me. "Thank you, Lord Illyrio."
"You, stand beside me. The Khal must see only Daenerys, and you wouldn't want to distract him, would you?" Viserys whispers in my ear, tone threatening. My violet eyes glare into his blue, and I grit my teeth.
"Yes, my King." I stand to his side, head bent downwards to hide my presumed strangeness. Unlike my brother and sister, I inherited the violet eyes of our ancestors. It's one more thing Viserys hates about me. I have yet to learn to love them.
My brother remains impatient, turning to the Magister of Pentos. "Where is he?" He clutches a sword he's never once swung, and I find myself yearning to take it, having practiced on the streets and in the gardens with various roaming sellswords.
"The Dothraki are not known for their punctuality." Illyrio calmly informs Viserys, and I go back to staring at the ground. That is when the sound of hooves galloping upon cobblestone approaches. I smile at the sound, yearning to ride one of my own and explore the world my family has been exiled to. Unlike my brother and sister, I do not wish to return to Westeros. I have never wanted to be a ruler, not of people so ready to fight and die for a chair made out of swords. Can you imagine how uncomfortable such a throne would be?
I look up when four of the khalasar - yes, I have read what little there is about the Dothraki - come to a stop before us, the Khal in front of the other three riders. He is a massive man, covered in war paint but rather handsome, not at all what I pictured. I look back down so to not draw attention to myself. Illyrio walks to his new guests, welcoming them in Dothraki before speaking in the common tongue. I had Illyrio teach me some of the strange language, wanting to be familiar with it in case the marriage occurs.
"May I present my honored guest. Viserys of House Targaryen, the third of his name, the rightful King of the Andals and the First Men, his younger sister Jaenerys of House Targaryen, and his sister Daenerys of House Targaryen."
I look to the side to see my sister going to follow Illyrio, but Viserys stops her as our host continues to speak to the Khal in Dothraki. "Do you see how long his hair is? When Dothraki are defeated in combat they cut off their braid so the whole world can see their shame. Khal Drogo has never been defeated." I briefly look up, and see the giant eye me. Viserys turns my head to look at him and I nod, understanding I must look down. "He's a savage, of course, but he's one of the finest killers alive. And you will be his queen." Viserys whispers to Daenerys as Illyrio beckons her.
"Come forward, my dear." I look up slightly to see Viserys release Daenerys, my older twin walking towards our host gracefully, yet timid. Her shoulders are back, though, giving the illusion she is somewhat comfortable. She stands before her husband-to-be, the horse shifting a bit. Khal Drogo says nothing, only staring at her as he leads his men away.
Viserys rushes forward, confused. "Where's he going?"
"The ceremony is over." Illyrio informs him, patient."
"But he… but he didn't say anything! Did he like her?"
I remain where my brother placed me, but can hear what Illyrio says next and am thoroughly unamused. "Trust me, Your Grace. If he didn't like her, we'd know. Come, let us walk." Illyrio holds out his hand for me to descend the stairs so we may walk to the balcony and garden looking towards Westeros. We follow the men, and I take Dany's hand to center us both.
My brother and Illyrio stand against the stone fencing, Dany and I to the side, close enough to hear them. "It won't be long now." The Magister says. "Soon you will cross the narrow sea and take back your father's throne. The people drink secret toasts to your healthy." I look into Dany's eyes, easy to do as we are the same height. We both know it's a lie, but our brother is too arrogant to believe anything else. "They cry out for their true king."
My brother begins to walk towards the ruins of the garden, Illyrio with him. "When will they be married?"
"Soon. The Dothraki never stay still for long."
"Is it true they lie with their horses?" Viserys asks, and Dany takes my arm.
"I wouldn't ask Khal Drogo." I can't help myself. I laugh, earning a glare from Viserys.
"Did you say something, Jaenarys?"
"No, my King." I smirk at him, his eyes narrowing. I do not fear him like Dany does. I'm too sure I could kill him. A true kinslayer.
"Do you take me for a fool?" Viserys focuses on Illyrio, who shakes his head.
"I take you for a king. Kings lack the caution of comment men." Yes, the poor kings. The one's history bemoans. Like my father. "My apologies if I've given offense."
"I know how to play a man like Drogo. I give him a queen, and he gives me an army."
"I don't want to be his queen." My sister speaks up, stopping the two men in their tracks. "I want to go home."
"So do I. I want us three to go home, but they took it from us." Viserys walks over to where we stand. "So tell me, sweet sister, how do we go home?"
"I don't know." She replies, looking a little lost. Usually I am the one to speak out against our brother. But I don't know the answer either. The only way for us to return - or them, if I get my way - is with an army and ships. Enough to take down the others.
"We go home with an army. With Khal Drogo's army." Viserys strokes Dany's face, almost lovingly though he is incapable of such a feeling. "I would let his whole tribe fuck you and Jaenarys, all 40,000 men and their horses too if that's what it took." I glare at him, knowing my violet eyes have darkened dangerously. He only kisses Dany's forehead, then mine, his chapped lips feeling like coarse sand against my smooth skin. He walks away from us to rejoin Illyrio, Dany holding my hand firmly in hers.
The next day, we have gathered with the khalasar in the ruins near Illyrio's estate, my sister in a light blue dress and myself in a violet, to match my eyes. I sit between her and my brother, Dany's new husband on her other side watching the festivities. Women and men are dancing raunchingly, the drums beat loud and heavy, and the rest of the Dothraki and Illyrio's people are talking or eating. A man comes forward, offering something in a bowl. I glance to the side and watch the sea move against the shore. The air smells of salt and smoke, some of my favorite scents.
A Dothraki comes forward to remove one box of treasure as a man ascends the steps carrying a basket of snakes. Dany gasps in surprise but I lean forward, curious. He rearranges them, leaving the box in the center of the offering space. I look around and watch as one man stirs the horse hearts, another tending to the small creatures roasting of a fire. The two dancers are joined by a woman baring her right breast, her skin dark. I can hear my brother speaking with Illyrio, but can't find myself to care about what they are saying.
The woman is joined by a man who bares her other breast, both couples practically fucking each other while the other Dothraki watch. My brother takes a swig of his drink, and I'm surprised he hasn't tried to join them.
A woman is pushed onto her knees, but she seems unbothered. The man behind her is pushed away, the next man taking his place. Khal Drogo looks impressed. The other man gets up, and thus begins the fight that ends with a man falling to his knees, disemboweled by the other's arakh, a half-sword, half-scythe Dothraki weapon. His throat is then slit and braid cut and tossed as he thumps down. My sister is nothing short of disgusted, but I hear Illyrio say,
"A Dothraki wedding with at least three deaths is considered a dull affair." I laugh and clap, getting an approving nod from the Khal and Illyrio. Blood has never really bothered me, and I've seen worse while living as an urchin.
A man steps forward, a small pile of books in his hands. He bows to the Khal, the two exchanging words I have yet to remember. By the tones of their voices, I can sense there is great respect between the two.
The man approaches, standing before Dany and holding out the three books. "A small gift, for the new Khaleesi. Songs and histories from the Seven Kingdoms."
She takes them, looking happy for once. "Thank you, ser. Are you from my country?"
"Ser Jorah Mormont of Bear Island. I served your father for many years. Gods be good, I hope to always serve the rightful king." Ser Jorah glances over at Viserys. He walks away, Illyrio gesturing for four of his servants to approach, one duo presenting a box to Dany and another surprisingly presenting a smaller one to me. Illyrio stands, and waits as the boxes are opened.
In Dany's rest three scaled eggs, one black, one green, and one gold. I look down at mine to see a single egg, black and bronze in color. Dragon eggs, not seen by a Targaryen or anyone for that matter in years. I carefully pick mine up, stroking the scales. It feels warm, as though it's been resting with candles. Perhaps that's what it needs? "Dragon eggs, Daenerys and Jaenarys. From the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai. The ages have turned them to stone, but they will always be beautiful." Illyrio turns to me. "I am sorry, Princess, but the two beside yours were broken apart."
"It is no matter, Illyrio." I tilt my head in thanks, carefully cradling my egg.
"Thank you, Magister." Illyrio bows to my sister and sits back down, our brother staring at us in interest and with a hint of jealousy.
Khal Drogo stands, and myself and Dany put away our eggs, looking up at the man. Dany stands with him, watching with curiosity as the khal walks down the steps with purpose. My sister follows after him, slower. The rest of us stand, looking after them. I close my eyes, praying any gods listening that Dany will be alright. Drogo presents her with a white mare, and from here I can see her relax, gently stroking the horse's snout. A few words are exchanged between her and Ser Jorah, then Drogo steps forward and effortlessly lifts her onto the horses back. He swings up onto his own, and my brother takes my hand to pull us to where they sit, waiting to move. He clasps the end of Dany's dress.
"Make him happy." Dany looks ahead and the newlyweds ride off, an ugly smirk removing any Targaryen beauty from Viserys's face. I turn to look up at him.
"Has everything occurred to your satisfaction, brother?"
He looks down at me, unimpressed by my tone. "You should learn to keep your mouth shut unless spoken to, useless wench. I'll need some ships to carry my new army across the narrow sea, and that means marrying you off to someone with what I need. I'd hate to see you end up discarded or dead."
"No, you wouldn't." I declare, raising an eyebrow at the older, taller man. "Enjoy the festivities, brother." I turn and walk away from him, ignoring his calls. I am stronger than he knows, and I will find a way to protect Dany from his choices. I have to.