10.
After the ceremony, Jon and Mormont followed the khal's bloodriders out from the pit. A parade followed them out onto the godsway, the broad grassy road that ran through the heart of Vaes Dothrak, from the horse gate to the Mother of Mountains. The pulsating sounds of bells ringing and drums beating surrounded them as they marched along the godsway.
It was custom for the Dothraki to have their mothers eat all of a stallion's heart. If she choked on the blood or retched up the flesh, the omens were less favorable, the child might be a stillborn, or come forth weak, deformed, or female. Jon wondered how long ago the Dothraki started this custom. He could imagine the disgusted looks on his family's faces if they ever witnessed the ceremony.
Jon could only watch in fascination as Daenerys devoured the stallion's heart with only her teeth and nails. Her face and hands were smeared with blood not even by the time she finished. The old crones that lived in Vaes Dothrak, called the dosh khaleen, proclaimed that Daenerys's child was a prince riding within her.
While Daenerys, her handmaidens, and Khal Drogo rode to the lake, Jon and Mormont headed to Khal Drogo's hall. Flames leapt ten feet in the air from three huge stone-lined fire pits. The air was thick with smells of roasting meat and curdled, fermented mare's milk. The hall was crowded and noisy as they entered. The sounds of drums and horns swirled up into the night. Half-clothed women spun and danced on the low tables.
"They call her son the stallion that mounts the world," Mormont told Jon once they were accepted to sit by the center fire pit. "Do you concur with that?"
"She is a Targaryen, so I suppose she must have a warrior of a son," Jon commented after a moment of drinking the fermented mare's milk.
"Or a mad one," Mormont added.
"True," Jon ceded quietly. "I doubt any man back in the Seven Kingdoms would accept a stallion's heart as their meal."
Mormont laughed. "Perhaps Robert Baratheon if challenged."
Jhiqui approached them not too long after. "The khaleesi requests the presence of you both."
Jon rose from his seat and followed her over to where Daenerys sat. Clean and dressed in the Dothraki garbs, she smiled brightly at the sight of them.
"Khaleesi," Mormont said, going to one knee before her. "We are yours to command."
Jon was about to go on one knee, but Daenerys stopped him. He smiled despite himself, remembering how she made him promise no formalities around each other. She had been so busy preparing for the ceremony that they hadn't spent much time together. At least now that it was over, Jon could finally talk to her.
She patted the stuffed horsehide cushions surrounding her. "Sit and talk with me."
"You honor us." The knight seated himself on the cushion to her left while Jon took her right. A slave knelt before them, offering a wooden platter full of ripe figs. They each took one and bit it in half.
"Where is my brother?" Daenerys asked. "He ought to have come by now, for the feast."
"I saw His Grace this morning," Mormont told her. "He told me he was going to the Western Market, in search of wine."
"Wine?" Daenerys repeated doubtfully.
"Wine," Mormont confirmed, "and he has some thought to recruit men for his army from the sellswords who guard the caravans." A serving girl laid a blood pie in front of them and before Jon had a chance to touch it, Mormont attacked it with both hands.
"Is that wise?" she asked, glancing at Jon. He was nibbling on another fig. "He has no gold to pay soldiers. What if he's betrayed?"
"We are in Vaes Dothrak, my lady," Jon reminded her. "No one may carry a blade here or shed a man's blood."
"Yet men die," she said. "Jhogo told me. Some of the traders have eunuchs with them, huge men who strangle thieves with wisps of silk. That way no blood is shed and the gods are not angered."
"Then let us hope your brother will be wise not to steal anything," Jon murmured as he accepted another cup of fermented mare's milk. "You did well earlier."
Daenerys smiled, and he returned it.
"His Grace had planned to take your dragon's eggs until I warned him that I'd cut off his hand if he so much as touched them," Mormont revealed, wiping the grease off his mouth with the back of his hand.
For a moment, no one said anything. Jon could see the shock on Daenerys's face, and he felt the same. He himself hadn't known this until this moment.
"My eggs… but they're mine. Magister Illyrio gave them to me, a bride gift, why would Viserys want... they're only stones..."
"The same could be said of rubies and diamonds, and fire opals, Princess... and dragon's eggs are rarer by far. Those traders he's been drinking with would sell their own manhoods for even one of those stones, and with all three Viserys could buy as many sellswords as might need."
"Then he should have them," Daenerys decided, startling Jon. "He does not need to steal them. He had only to ask. He is my brother and... and my true king."
"He is your brother," acknowledged Mormont.
"You do not understand, ser," she said. "My mother died giving birth to me, and my father and brother Rhaegar even before that. I would have never known so much as their names if Viserys had not been there to tell me. He was the only one left. The only one. He is all I have."
"Once," said Mormont. "No longer, Khaleesi. You belong to the Dothraki now. In your womb rides the stallion who mounts the world." He held out his cup, and a slave filled it with fermented mare's milk, sour smelling and thick with clots.
"What does it mean?" she asked, waving away the cup. "What is this stallion? Everyone was shouting it at me, but I don't understand."
"The stallion is the khal of khals promised in ancient prophecy, child. He will unite the Dothraki into a single khalasar and ride to the ends of the earth, or so it was promised. All the people of the world will be his herd," Mormont explained.
"Oh," was all Daenerys could manage. Jon touched her arm, and she looked at him, a bit of fear in her violet eyes. She looked down as she smoothed her robe down over the swell of her stomach. "I named him Rhaego."
"A name to make the Usurper's blood run cold."
Doreah suddenly moved from her cushions and tugged on Daenerys's elbow without so much glancing in Jon's direction. "Khaleesi," she whispered urgently, "your brother..."
Jon and Daenerys both looked down the length of the long, roofless hall and spotted him striding towards them. From the lurch in his step, he could tell at once that Viserys had found his wine. Viserys was wearing his scarlet silks, soiled and travel-stained. His cloak and gloves were black velvet, faded from the sun. His boots were dry and cracked, his silver-blonde hair matted and tangled. A longsword swung from his belt in a leather scabbard. The Dothraki eyed the sword as he passed, and Jon heard curses and threats and angry muttering rising around them. The music died away in a nervous stammering of drums.
"Go to him," Daenerys commanded Mormont. "Stop him. Bring him here. Tell him he can have the dragon's egg if that is what he wants." The knight rose swiftly to his feet.
"Gods, where did he even get a sword?" Daenerys wondered, anxious.
"Daenerys, he will get killed," Jon told her quietly.
"Do not say such a thing," she said, afraid.
"Where is my sister?" Viserys shouted, his voice thick with wine. "I've come for her feast. How dare you presume to eat without me? No one eats before the king. Where is she? The whore can't hide from the dragon."
Mormont went to him swiftly, whispered something in his ear, and took him by the arm, but Viserys wrenched free. "Keep your hands off me! No one touches the dragon without leave."
The sound of laughter made Viserys lift his eyes. "Khal Drogo," he slurred, his voice almost polite. "I'm here for the feast." He staggered away from Mormont, making to join the three khals on the high bench.
Khal Drogo rose, spat out a dozen words in Dothraki, faster than Jon could possibly understand, and pointed. "Khal Drogo says your place is not on the high bench," Mormont translated for Viserys. "Khal Drogo says your place is there."
Viserys glanced where the khal was pointing. At the back of the long hall, in a corner by the wall, deep in shadow so better would not need to look on them, sat the lowest of the low; raw and unblooded boys, old men with clouded eyes and stiff joints, the dim-witted and the maimed. Far from the meat, and farther from the honor.
"That is no place for a king," Viserys declared.
Stop it, you fool, Jon thought.
"Is place," Khal Drogo answered, in the Common Tongue. "For Sorefoot King." He clapped his hands together. "A cart! Bring cart for Khal Rhaggat!"
Five thousand Dothraki began to laugh and shout. Mormont was standing beside Viserys, screaming in his ear, but the roar of the hall was so thunderous that Jon couldn't hear what he was saying. Viserys shouted back and the two men wrestled until Mormont knocked Viserys to the floor.
He drew his sword.
The bared steel shone a dangerous red in the glare from the fire pits. "Keep away from me!" Viserys hissed. Mormont backed off a step, and the drunk king climbed unsteadily to his feet. He waved the sword over his head, and the Dothraki shrieked at him from all sides.
Daenerys's cry made Viserys turn his head, and he saw her for the first time. "There she is," he said, smiling. His smile dwindled when he saw Jon beside her. "Along with the Stark hound's bastard." He stalked towards his sister, slashing at the air as if to cut a path through a wall of enemies, though no one tried to bar his way.
"The blade... you must not," Daenerys begged. "Please, Viserys. It is forbidden. Put down the sword and come share my cushions. There's drink, food... is it the dragon's eggs you want? You can have them, only throw away the sword."
"Do as she tells you," Jon said, standing between Daenerys and her brother.
"A bastard does not order a dragon!" Viserys suddenly screamed, pointing his sword at him. "A dragon eats wolves. Do you wish to wake the dragon?"
"No," Daenerys whispered.
"Daenerys—" Jon started, when she stepped from behind him. His eyes widened when she pushed the sword away and moved closer to Viserys. The hall was hushed as everyone watched Daenerys wrap her arms around her brother.
Viserys looked down at her. Sweat beaded down Jon's temple as he waited for Viserys to hurt his sister. Minutes passed and Viserys made no move to harm her. He was staring at her, stunned. Daenerys lifted her head from his chest to look up at him. She murmured something and silently took Viserys's hand to lead him outside. Daenerys glanced over her shoulder at Jon, and he understood. Mormont did not understand, and tried to follow them, but Daenerys said something Rakharo who blocked Mormont's path.
For almost three hours, Daenerys and Viserys remained outside. Jon and her handmaidens waited nervously for her to return. Aggo had peaked outside and assured them that they were only talking.
Jon heard her voice before he saw her. "Viserys, no!" she screamed. He turned from Mormont to see Viserys marching over to Khal Drogo. Daenerys was chasing after him.
He pointed his sword at the giant khal and demanded, "I want the crown I was promised. I want what I bargained for, or I'm taking her back. He can keep his bloody foal. I'll cut the bastard out and leave it for him."
"You don't mean that," cried Daenerys. Her cheeks were wet with tears. "Remember what we said outside? Please, please. Viserys, don't."
Viserys ignored her. He grabbed Jhiqui's arm and ordered her to repeat his words in Dothraki. She did so, her voice hardly intelligible through her sobbing. When she finished, he let go of her arm.
Khal Drogo spoke a few brusque sentences in Dothraki. He stepped down from his high bench. It had grown so silent in the hall that Jon could hear the bells in Khal Drogo's hair, chiming softly with each step he took. His bloodriders followed him. Jon froze, knowing that the man's death was near.
"What did he say, Dany?" Viserys asked, without glancing back at her. He was no longer slurring, but spoke with a surprising somberness.
"He says you shall have a splendid golden crown that men shall tremble to behold," Daenerys answered, sniffling.
"Stop crying," Viserys told her. "Dragons do not cry. Remember that."
Khal Drogo took Daenerys from behind Viserys. He turned to her and asked a question. She nodded and when the khal said a word, and his bloodriders leapt forward. Qotho seized the self-proclaimed king by the arms. Haggo shattered his wrists with a single, sharp twist of his large hands. Cohollo pulled the sword from his limp fingers.
Khal Drogo unfastened his belt. The medallions were pure gold, massive and ornate, each one as large as a man's hand. He shouted a command. Cook slaves pulled a heavy iron stew pot from the fire pit, dumped onto the ground, and returned the pot to the flames. Drogo tossed in the belt and watched out expression as the medallion turned red and began to lose their shape.
Viserys did not scream, but he looked close to doing so. Jon had seen a handful of men get beheaded at the hands of his father, and while most cried and begged, some stayed silent and accepted their fate.
Jon could only watch in horror when Khal Drogo reached into the flames and snatched out the pot. "Crown!" he roared. "Here. A crown for Cart King!" And upended the pot over Viserys's head.
The sound Viserys Targaryen made when that gruesome iron helmet covered his face was nothing human. His feet hammered a frantic beat against the dirt floor, slowed, stopped. Thick globs of molten gold dripped down onto his chest, setting the scarlet silk to smoldering yet no drop of blood was spilled. Beside Khal Drogo, Daenerys was no longer weeping.
That was her brother, thought Jon, staring at the corpse before him. He was afraid of what she did to her enemies.