A/N: Definitely probably not exactly what you were expecting. I don't know actually if you were expecting anything... Anyway let me know if you think I did a good job with this POV and everything in the review! I literally live for reviews guys.

Also I would like to dedicate this chapter to storyoftheunknownfangirl and stordec23! Thank you guys for always leaving a review without fail when I update. It means more than you could possibly know or understand! Much Love.

Disclaimer: I do not own ATLA or Game of Thrones / A Song of Ice and Fire!


Azula: A Dothraki Wedding

The fabric of her dress was silver and shimmered like star-light. When she went into the sun it appeared near transparent, and although she felt every bit filled with discomfort and immodesty, Ozai assured her on multiple occasion that it would impress him. How cruel, she'd thought at first, was it of her father to marry her off to a lord of horses; a certain Khal Jet who mounted a stallion to cross the Dothraki sea to claim his bride.

"He's coming up on the gates, Azula."

She stood at the large cream stone archways in the small place she'd called home for the near entirety of her life; her dress was draped across her body in a flowy manner that left her back mostly bare. Her feet were left uncovered as she followed her father out the large corridor and into the humid air so common in Pentos. Azula's straight hair was tied up, cascading from the tie to rest lightly against her shoulder blades. When the large red doors she'd grown so accustomed to through the long days she'd spent here swung open she felt a keen sense of both emotional relief and physical hindrance. She'd, of course, never admit to herself or anyone else that she'd grown attached to the large red door or the dry Free City air, but through this and deep under her skin she had to know her heart had never been fonder.

Ozai gave her a withering look, and she returned it before taking the step forward, part of her knowing she'd never take the step back through. She allowed herself the small semblance of dragging the palm of her hand along the stone wall until the edge before walking quickly and elegantly to catch up with her father.

He walked toward the gates and she paused a few feet behind him on the last stone step. The pounding of the horses brought red dust into the air, and Azula stood as straight as she could and folded her hands into themselves in front of her.

She closed her eyes for a second and reopened them to see a man on his horse had arrived at the now opened gates. She knew who he was immediately and lifted her chin higher as his eyes drifted from her rigid father to herself. She stared him down when his dark eyes strayed from her face and moved downward to her silvery dress. She didn't allow him to see any form of discomfort, just as she had never allowed anyone to see anything. He remained on his horse and she looked at the braids in his shoulder length hair. There were bells tied at the end that jingled with his every movement. His body was gleaning with oil and sweat as he stood before her father with a different sort of regality than any she'd seen before; he was also shorter than she'd expected. His bloodriders stood behind him in a surprising variety of builds and looks.

"Khal Jet, we welcome you to our humble keep. We are honored you have agreed to this marriage." Ozai stepped aside and gestured to Azula with a bowed head. "This is my daughter, Azula, your betrothed." She followed her father's actions and dropped her chin slightly. "I hope you find her pleasing." Azula bit back a retort and remained silent; seconds later, the tinkle of the bells alerted her to his movement and she looked up in time to see him turn towards his men and ride off. He never dismounted his horse. He never said anything.

"That conversation was positively riveting, father. You truly know how to pick them." Ozai raised his chin and reached an arm out to her.

"Oh how I hope you learn to hold onto that sharp tongue of yours, or your precious Khal Jet will leave his Khaleesi to be ravaged by his very own bloodriders."

"How cruel." She took his elbow in her hand as they walked forward to the horses one of the servants had brought out for them. The wedding ceremony would take place all day on the edge of Pentos.

"You know as well as I do that your union with this warlord is the only thing that can get me back what is rightfully mine." Azula took the help of a kneeling servant and mounted the horse.

"Yes the ten thousand men my loving husband will gift you should suffice to take down my brother and that retched old man." Every word from her lips was filled with a mix of disgust and satire. The distaste grew in her mouth as she clung briefly to the edges of a memory.

"Quiet, Azula. We are surrounded by blood riders and highly probable enemies."

"As per usual, father."

The actual ceremony was rather short, and rather dull. Azula was seated beside Khal Jet as Dothraki women in little clothing danced and men in course leather clothes and armed with arakhs stood surrounding and watched. Some were moving with the women on the dirt ground below their raised platform. Azula's legs were crossed in front of her as she glanced over at her (now) husband next to her. He was leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees watching the happenings below them with great attention. Azula turned back when shouts broke out over the pounding drums. A woman that was previously dancing was laying on the ground as two men stood over her with their arakhs swinging at each other. Mere seconds later one of the man's throat was slit and he was falling to the ground. She watching in concealed confusion as the woman was mounted from behind and taken right in front of her. Azula forbid herself from looking away as she raised her chin higher and studied how quickly the rest of the people moved on and ignored the dead body and woman and man connecting beside it.

"A Dothraki wedding without at least three deaths is considered a dull affair." The voice beside her was raspy and oddly familiar. She spared him a small glance before turning forward again. He was maybe her father's age, and most obviously not one of the people from the free cities. She stopped herself from flinching when right in front of her another man was slain.

"Only three? Hardly entertainment."

How cruel.

The man beside her laughed, and her husband looked at her for the first time since the ceremony. She met his eyes and stared unmoving for a while before turning to where her father was standing with a couple Pentos lords and ladies. She could feel the two men beside her watching her closely as one of the Pentos lords shuffled towards her in his orange robes with a large ornate box. When he reached the platform she was seated at he kneeled in front of her and set the box at her bare feet.

"For you, Khaleesi." His head was resting on his hands. He raised his head after a few seconds and looked her in the eye before opening the box and turning it towards her. "Dragon eggs. Turned to stone after being dormant for decades, yet still very beautiful. For you because of the fire in your blood." Azula stood only to kneel in front of the box and pick up one of the eggs. The sunlight glinting off the scaled exterior turned the blackness near purple.

"How…" She turned it in her hand and watched as the man backed away, "quaint." She held it for a second longer and felt the immediate heat that surfaced in her hand where she held it. She quickly put it back in the cushioned box and watched as a servant woman closed the box and carried it to the pile of other gifts. She returned to her seat only to have the man that speaks on death stand in front of her.

"Now is as good a time as any for me to introduce myself. My name is Sir Zhao…" She didn't allow him to continue.

"Yes I know, I remember my brother banishing you right before he banished me. What was the reason again? Oh, yes. Dishonorable, Sir Zhao. He claimed that you and your intentions were dishonorable. How very Zuko of him, yes?"

"How could I forget, my Khaleesi? I have traveled from Braavos to give you something."

"Oh. Now I'm intrigued, do tell." Azula waved absentmindedly and looked the man in front of her directly in the eye. Jet was paying strict attention, yet all she'd heard him speak was Dothraki. Did he speak the common tongue?

"I am here to gift you my sword and my sworn service." She paused. This was new for her. She smirked slightly.

"Do you swear on your honor, Sir Zhao?" Wrinkles formed in-between his brows as he knelt in front of her and unsheathed his sword only to rest it at her feet.

"Do you trust in your brother to decide who has honor and who doesn't? What kind of so called, honorable man banishes his own blood and marries a woman from the North?" Azula's eyebrows shot up.

"My brother has joined with a northerner?"

"Not yet, but it's set to happen soon." She took a moment to imagine the kind of woman that would leaf her brother to unifying with the North. Perhaps the girl from the Eerie? Or maybe even the one from Winterfell.

"Rise, Sir Zhao. I accept your sworn sword." He stood and sheathed his sword. She gestured for him to move and watched his red Fire Nation armor as he walked away. She focused forward again until the bells braided into her husband's hair jingled with his standing. He looked down at her and held a hand out; she took it.

The sun was setting and the tents the Dothraki had set up earlier cast long shadows. In front of her was a tall hill where one tent in particular stood tall above everything. Khal Jet led her to a white stallion standing to the side. The dancing stopped, and she saw Zhao come to stand close with her father.

"For you." Jet studied her as she came towards the horse and gently put her hand on its mane. The horse pushed its head against her hand and she smiled in content.

"How do you say thank you in Dothraki, Sir Zhao?"

"There is no word, Khaleesi."

That night Khal Jet mounted his horse and she followed him on her new one until they reached the tent. They consummated the marriage outside beneath the stars for all of their blood riders to see.


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