DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN GAME OF THRONES!
The Mer Khaleesi
Chapter 4
The ride back to the Dothraki camp was not a pleasant one for Syleria. Even though the horses leisurely trotted, every move in the saddle was agony. Her hips, buttocks, thighs and her centre were all sore and stiff. She tried to hide her discomfort from the Khal but every now and then he would look at her with an inscrutable look on his face. At one point, he spoke to her. Not knowing what he was saying, Syleria merely nodded and have a tight smile as the leather saddle scraped her inner thighs. Not even an hour-long bath would help replenish the delicate skin!
They reached the horde and saw that many things had gone, probably packed away. Instead of the dozens of tables laden with food, only a few remained. Many tents had been removed; decorative furs put away; musical instruments nowhere to be seen. In the heart of the main area, a small group waited for them, the rest of the Dothraki waited around the edges of the camp, cheering as their Khal and new Khaleesi returned from their wedding night. The crowd chanted something; Syleria would ask Sir Jorah or Magister Illyrio what they were saying. Syleria smiled when she saw Ossania, but that joy was quickly crushed under her father's glare.
The horses stopped in the middle of the large open space, just where the Khal had presented her with her new horse the previous night. He quickly got off his own horse and then walked around to hers. As she turned in the saddle and brought her leg over to the other side so she could jump down on her own, the Khal surprised her. He came to stand in front of her as she sat in the saddle – astounding her briefly to see that even sat on a horse, she was still only about a foot taller than him – and put his hands on her thighs, not her hips. Instead of helping her to the ground, he pulled her out of the saddle and held her up high against his body, his arms around the back of her thighs to keep her upright. Scared of falling backwards, she gripped his shoulders, the blue paint from the wedding now smeared across his skin, as tightly as she dared; wanting to keep herself from falling but not wanting to annoy him with her grip.
As the Khal held her up, he began to walk in a large circle around the clearing, speaking loudly as he did so. What was going on? She got the impression that he was making some of announcement, probably about her because she heard the word 'Khaleesi' near the start of his speech. She desperately wanted to look over at Illyrio or Sir Jorah and seek reassurance, but it also wouldn't do to offend her new husband, so she maintained eye contact with him as he delivered his speech. The crowd had fallen silent as they listened to their Khal and then when he finished, it erupted into loud cheers. He smoothly adjusted her in his arms, moving to carry her bridal style. She kept an arm around his neck, just in case he decided to drop her suddenly.
He walked through the camp, passing by her family without a word. Ossania looked a little concerned, but her father was furious that the Khal did not even glance at him. No doubt he saw it as a great disrespect to him as King. The Khal carried her into a large tent and headed towards a pelt-covered bed. She panicked again. Would they have to do…It again, with the whole tribe and her family just outside? Surely not!
Easing her out of his arms, he sat her on the edge of the bed. He probably saw the nervous tension on her face, as he took a step back and spoke. She didn't understand a single word he had said, but gave a little nod when he finished. Then he left the tent without another word, closing the flaps behind him. After a few seconds of waiting for him to return, Syleria let out a long breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding. She looked around the large tent curiously. Who else would sleep here? The Khal? Her family? Judging the size of the tent, it could easily fit twenty people or so comfortably, more if they huddled together.
The flap of the tent opened and three women entered. Two were definitely Dothraki, one had a fairer complexion.
"Good morning, Khaleesi." The fairer one spoke. "I am Doreah. This is Irri, and Jhiqui. We're your handmaidens, Khaleesi."
"Oh…Um…" Syleria had never had handmaidens before, much less three! Of course, there had been servants at the royal palace in Worosa, but as the youngest daughter of the fifth wife of the King, she and Ossania had normally been left to their own devices. The female servants had always made it clear that they didn't care very much for the young girls – after all, there was no favours to be gained by caring for them; favours came from the older children from the first wives – so when the two sisters had become capable of bathing themselves and dressing and grooming the other, the servants were hardly ever in their quarters at all. The two sisters could organise their own baths, dress themselves in all manners of clothing – which they made themselves, and sometimes even had to go out to buy the fabric – they could arrange their own hair in a few basic styles, they could make their own beds, clean and tidy their own rooms…They looked after each other because no-one else had ever offered to. Not even her own mother, who had become despondent and depressed when she had given birth to her eighth daughter, Syleria, and was then told that she could never bear another child, a son for the King.
"Would you like to bathe, Khaleesi? We can organise a bath." Doreah offered.
"Yes, thank you. Shall I help you?" She stood up, but immediately dropped back on to the bed when all three women hushed her and urged her to sit back down.
"No, Khaleesi. Slaves bring water." Irri said in broken Common Tongue. She stepped outside the tent briefly, then returned a few seconds later. "Slaves bring water and bath, Khaleesi."
Only a few minutes later – which felt much longer given the awkward silence – a voice called from outside the tent. Doreah, Irri and Jhiqui brought the large wooden bath into the tent, placing it in the middle of the room. The two Dothraki women left the tent, bringing in buckets of hot water. As they passed in and out of the tent with the buckets, Doreah spoke.
"Shall we remove your dress, Khaleesi?"
"You can call me Syleria." She said meekly, suddenly shy. Very few people had ever seen her naked form, only Ossania, the Khal and a handful of servants when she had been a young child.
Doreah merely smiled at her, so Syleria assumed that meant 'no'. The handmaiden moved behind the new Khaleesi and unfastened the ties keeping her dress closed. When everything was loosened, Syleria stepped out of the dress and fought against the instinct to cover herself. Had Doreah noticed the streaks of blood on her inner thighs? If she did, the handmaiden didn't say anything.
"Here, Khaleesi." Doreah held open a robe for her. She slipped it on gratefully as Irri and Jhiqui continued filling the bath. Doreah knelt before Syleria and started removing her sandals. The younger girl tried not to feel like a doll being played with and more like a princess, but it was hard.
"Bath ready, Khaleesi." Irri called gently to her. The Merwoman headed over to the bath, slipped off the robe and slid into the pleasantly warm water with a sigh. "Good, Khaleesi?"
"It's perfect, thank you Irri."
Syleria ducked her head under the water, saying that she needed to wet her hair for it to be washed correctly. While she was under the surface, she made sure to time very carefully how long she remained under, not wanting to scare her new handmaidens just in case they didn't know how long she could truly be submerged for. After a minute or so, she came back up, feigned taking a deep breath, and let Jhiqui massage lotion into her long white tresses, as Doreah gently ran a washcloth over her upper torso and arms. Irri was preparing some sort of salve in a clay bowl.
Syleria looked at Doreah and whispered almost fearfully, "What will happen today?"
The handmaiden smiled kindly. "You shall spend the day in here, Khaleesi, and then retire to bed when you wish."
"When will everyone else arrive?"
Doreah looked at her as if she were a child who had just asked if the sun was a flower. She blinked. "Pardon, Khaleesi?"
"Whoever else will be sleeping here tonight; when will they arrive? Should I stay awake until then?"
Doreah's confused expression softened into a smile. "No Khaleesi, it will be just you and the Khal in here tonight. This tent is yours; no one else's."
Syleria looked around the large tent. "All this space, just for the two of us?"
"Of course Khaleesi."
"Can my sister come in?" Syleria asked quietly, almost afraid to ask. "To see me, today?"
"Yes, Khaleesi. Would you like to finish bathing?" She seemed almost hopeful that Syleria would say yes.
"No it's alright. Ossania and I have always bathed together. Perhaps she'd like a bath too?"
"Yes Khaleesi. I'll go and fetch her." Doreah handed the washcloth to Syleria, letting the young girl scrub the dried blood off her thighs and pelvis in relative privacy. Jhiqui just started to gently run a comb through her Khaleesi's baby-fine hair when there was shouting from outside the tent.
"Get out of my way, savage! If I wish to speak to my daughter, I shall!" Her father bellowed. Shouts in Dothraki followed, with her father roaring back. He started to shout her name, ordering her to come outside.
"Stay, Khaleesi." Irri urged, getting up and hurrying to the flap of the tent, peeking outside. "Your father angry, Khaleesi."
"Yes, I hear." Syleria murmured quietly. Ignoring Jhiqui's protests, she stood up and climbed out of the bath, wrapping herself tightly in her robe. Moving along the edge of the tent, Syleria listened to the shouts outside, making sure she wasn't visible through the small gap at the tent's entrance.
The King continued to shout, ordering whoever was in his way to move, bellowing words like 'savage', 'animal', 'brute'. Clearly, there was a Dothraki solider or two guarding the entrance to the tent. Syleria counted her lucky stars at that fact. He couldn't reach her.
"What seems to be the problem, my lord?" Sir Jorah had arrived.
"Tell this Dothraki dog to get out of my way! I will speak to Syleria!"
"That's not possible, my lord. Dothraki wedding tradition dictates that the new Khaleesi remain in her tent the day after the wedding; and no male, except the Khal, is ever allowed into the Khaleesi's tent. Not even her father. I'm sorry, my lord." He sounded unapologetic.
"What? That's ridiculous! I am the King!"
A new voice joined the conversation, abruptly interrupting her father. It was Dothraki, and a rumbling and threatening growl.
Sir Jorah spoke again after a moment. "Khal Drogo would like to remind you, my lord, that your Kingship has no bearing here. This is not Worosa; this is a Dothraki khalasar, and he is the Khal. It is forbidden by Dothraki law for any man, other than the Khal, to enter-"
"Syleria!" Obviously not impressed with being told 'no', the King resorted to simply bellowing her name. "Syleria, get out here now!"
The young Mer caught Irri's attention, gesturing to her scantily clad body. The servant understood. She called through the small gap in the tent, "Khaleesi bathe. Cannot come out."
"You little-!" There was a small scuffle with a few grunts. Irri watched what was happening, then nodded to Syleria after a few seconds had passed. Her father had obviously been removed.
Doreah entered the tent, followed by a slightly shaken Ossania. The older sister immediately pulled the younger girl into a deep hug. "Oh Silly! I've been so worried about you! We barely got to talk at the wedding, and then you had to be alone last night…"
"Khaleesi, bath get cold." Irri urged.
"Thank you Irri." Syleria said quietly, heading back over to the bath and climbing back into it.
Ossania undressed, handed her dress to Doreah, and slipped into the still hot water, ducking under the water to get her hair wet so Jhiqui could apply the lotion she had used on Syleria's hair. "So…How was it?" She asked almost nervously, afraid of what her sister might tell her.
"It was…Fine."
Ossania blinked. "Fine?"
"Yes. Fine."
"That's not a ringing endorsement." The elder sister said, concern lacing her voice. "What happened?" Syleria blushed and nudged Ossania's leg with her foot under the water. "Well obviously that happened! I mean details!"
"No! Khaleesi must not tell!" Irri commanded.
The two princesses blanched at Irri's firm and sudden cry. Ossania asked, "Why not?"
"The Gods be angry if you tell."
They looked to Doreah for a more in-depth explanation. "The wedding night is a sacred encounter, Khaleesi. No-one besides the Khal and yourself must ever know what happened." She warned gently, starting to rinse the lotion from Syleria's white hair.
Ossania sighed. "Well…Was it as scary as you thought it would be?" She asked her sister, who looked like a child who had just been scolded by their mother.
Syleria looked to Doreah, silently asking the handmaiden if she could answer that question. Doreah shrugged reluctantly. "I was scared, yes. And I would have preferred to have had you there with me. But he didn't-" Doreah cleared her throat loudly, clearing telling Syleria that she was close to disobeying Dothraki tradition. "But he wasn't unkind, or cruel."
Ossania sighed with relief. "Well that's something." She tilted her head back as Jhiqui rinsed her hair.
"What happened here?" Syleria reclined against the bath's edge, sinking low in the water to get as much of herself under the surface as she could. She wondered if she could somehow get the three handmaidens to leave the tent long enough for her to get her head under the water, in order for her face to fully benefit from the bath.
"Not much. The feast was over when you two left, and they started putting things away. We didn't stay long before heading back to Magister Illyrio's palace."
"You didn't stay here?"
"No. We're considered outsiders so we had to leave. I think we'll have to do so again tonight."
Syleria frowned a little at not being able to be with her sister again; she did not like this constant separation. Ossania was her rock, the one person on whom she could always rely and trust. Not even her mother had ever shown Syleria the love and care Ossania had. Speaking of which…
"What did the King want?"
Ossania grimaced. "To make sure you had 'done as you were told'. He wanted to know if you and the Khal had consummated your marriage." Syleria copied her sister's grimace. "He was going on and on about it last night, and this morning. Magister Illyrio couldn't make him stop!" She groaned in frustration.
"I take it he's…Upset that he wasn't allowed in here." Syleria commented dryly, wringing out her hair.
"It was probably a good thing you didn't hear what he was saying when the Khal walked straight past him when he was carrying you. I don't know what he had expected; Illyrio had explained to him what would happen today."
"Apart from me staying in here, what else will happen?"
Doreah spoke. "The first day is usually when the bride goes through the gifts she received at the wedding."
"Will that take the whole day?"
"No Khaleesi, that shouldn't take more than a few hours. You can eat when you are hungry – one of us will fetch you what you wish – and then in the evening you are free to do as you wish."
"Can I-"
"Except go outside."
Syleria sulked. "What about tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow we begin the journey to Vaes Dothrak."
!"!
A fire crackled happily in the pit in the middle of the room, keeping the night chill away. Syleria reclined leisurely against the large pillows on the bed in the tent, one of Sir Jorah's books in her hands. She'd heard of the Seven Kingdoms, but it was across the seas, far from Worosa. When she was a child, the King had taken the Queen and his second wife Fironie – his favourite because she had given him four out of his eight sons – and the wives' children on a diplomatic journey across the seas to one of the Kingdoms, but naturally upon return, none of her siblings who had gone had told her anything about the new place, merely taunted with the things they had bought over there.
Syleria turned the page just as the flaps to the tent opened. It was the Khal. He ducked his torso to enter the tent, eyeing her as he did. He said nothing. He went about removing the curved blade from his belt, taking off the thick leather armour guarding his stomach. He moved to the fire pit, stoking the fire and adding another log to the pile of burning wood. He sat at the foot of the bed, his back to her, as he removed his thick boots. Had she done something wrong? She wasn't aware of any wrongdoings. If only she could speak Dothraki and ask him what was wrong…
As he stood up, he removed his trousers. His were the only male buttocks Syleria had ever seen, but they seemed quite perfect. She blushed at the thought. He turned around, walking around the side of the bed, his eyes locked with hers. She closed her book, instinctively knowing what was about to happen. As he kept watching her closely, her eyes drifted down to his mouth. Please kiss me. Please kiss me. Please give me my first kiss.
That didn't happen. He reached out and took hold of her hips, rolling her onto her side and then onto her stomach, somewhat roughly. He climbed onto the bed behind her and pulled back on her hips, bringing her onto her hands and knees. He flipped her robe over her hips and then a second later, pushed into her. She couldn't hold back her surprised and slightly pained cry. Why hadn't he prepared her, both physically and mentally for his entrance? On their wedding night, he'd stretched her gently with his fingers; that morning he'd rubbed her centre until she moaned for him. Why had he just pushed in without a word?
She turned her head to look at him, but he gripped her shoulder and gave a hard thrust. She took that to mean 'turn around'. From what she had seen, he seemed angry. Angry with her? Was he punishing her through sex? She gave it a minute, deciding to see what happened next. Perhaps he would slow down, realise that she was not enjoying this? But no, he just maintained his grip on her shoulder and hip, keeping his rhythm fast and almost brutal.
She tried something else. "Is something wrong?" She asked quietly. She knew he couldn't understand her, but she could get lucky by having him understand her general tone. He didn't respond, just kept thrusting. "Have I done something wrong?" No response. "Please Khal, I don't-" She had tried turning around again but he growled at her. She turned back. "I don't understand!" She begged. "What's happened?" He pushed down firmly between her shoulder blades, forcing her to rest her head on the bed as he picked up speed for his thrusts. "What's wrong? I don't understand." She cried softly as tears started to fill her eyes. Why couldn't he tell she was upset?! He might not speak her language but surely, a crying woman who is trying to talk to you is a bad sign during sex?
But as he gripped her shoulder hard enough to make her wince, and climaxed with a shout, she understood. He pulled out and lay back on the bed at her side. A second later, he reached over her and put out the candles at the side of the bed, sending the room into darkness. Syleria numbly rolled onto her side, curling up in a ball, bringing the book she had been reading close to her chest as she held back sobs.
That was her purpose now. He was the Khal and it was her job to please him. That was all she was now; an object for his pleasure. She had become a bought and paid for orifice for his whims. She was nothing to him. And that was what hurt most.