Author's Note

I do not own Game of Thrones.

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Magister Illyrio Mopatis approached them in Pentos. He was a portly man with curly brown hair wearing fine clothing with bodyguards and slaves following his every move. Viserys brought him over to them after their performance ended. "This is Magister Illyrio. We'll be dining with him tonight."

The triplets exchanged looks. They had no intention of finding themselves at the mercy and favour of the Essossi nobles again. Magister Illyrio smiled. It did not meet his eyes.

"You must be Jaemar," he said, offering him his hand.

Jaemar did not take it.

"And these are your beautiful sisters. Daenara and Saeherys. Which one is which?"

Daenara showed him her teeth.

Viserys introduced them.

Magister Illyrio invited them as guests and talked earnestly about supporting their claim with money and men, something no other noble had yet done. The triplets, reluctantly, decided to give him a chance. They couldn't trust him of course, not as far as they could throw him in these young, small bodies (they were still sure sometimes that they should be bigger so much bigger than this and cover the land in their shadows and flames), but they could hear him out and listen to his honeyed promises and poisons.

He brought them new clothes, fine food, housed them in lavish quarters. When the triplets voiced their interest in swordplay he brought in a tutor and bought them new weapons.

He wanted something.

"No one does all this from the goodness of their hearts," Daenara said, and her siblings whole heartedly agreed.

They would discover what it was seven moon cycles later.

"I propose an alliance between myself, you, and Khal Drogo of the Dothraki."

"Khal Drogo?" Saeherys asked. She recognised the name as though it was something she had heard before, but knew nothing else.

"Very powerful Dothraki warlord," muttered Jaemar. "And why would we do this?"

"Khal Drogo commands forty thousand Dothraki screamers my Lord. Ally with him and you would have the strength to launch an invasion of Westeros."

They had one thousand, six hundred men for the conquest, though of course they had acquired more as they gained allegiance from the Lords. Forty thousand would indeed be a good number, and it was higher than their current count of zero. Of course, Dothraki screamers wouldn't be best suited for Westerosi terrain, but then they wouldn't need to be.

"How soon can we make this alliance?" Viserys asked.

"Well, it will take a few weeks to sort everything my King."

"How will the alliance be made?" Daenara asked. Illyrio had conveniently failed to mention that so far.

"How are all alliances made?"

Their hearts sank. They knew the answer to that, though it had never affected them as Targaryens.

"Khal Drogo desires the most beautiful and exotic woman in the world as his khaleesi. We can provide him with that, and give him a wife with blood connections to the King of Westeros."

"I am not marrying some horse Lord savage!" Daenara snapped. "And neither is my sister."

"My Lady, Khal Drogo would make a powerful ally."

"I said no!" She kicked her chair back, stood, and stomped from the room, Saeherys close at her heels. Jaemar followed them out. The door slammed shut.

Daenara stormed out to the gardens and kicked the life out of a bush, spitting curses in Old High Valyrian and the bastard Valyrian tongue of Braavos.

Jaemar took Saeherys's arm to hold her back and waited.

At last Daenara took a step back and muttered 'fuck him' under her breath.

"Are you finished?" Jaemar asked. Daenara scowled and kicked the bush again.

"Now I am."

"Can we talk about this?"

They sat in one of the verandas. Daenara set about polishing her knife. "I'm a married woman. I'm not marrying some Dothraki fool."

"Strategically it does make sense."

"I refuse to do it."

"Visenya."

"Aegon."

"You're behaving like a child."

"I'm barely more than a child! I have rights to behave like one!"

"I could do it," Saeherys suggested. "The marrying thing I mean."

"No," said Jaemar and Daenara as one.

"No," said Daenara again. "You've heard of what the Dothraki are as much as we have."

They were warriors, powerful ones, but savages. She couldn't subject Saeherys to that, her sweet sister who fell far too soon, no matter what disagreements they might have had. "Jaemar, can you leave us? I want to talk to my sister."

He nodded and left them.

Saeherys took Daenara's hands. "Are you alright sister?"

Daenara closed her eyes. "I'm letting us down again, trying to do my own thing."

"That's not true. You've always been pig-headed, you're just being you."

"You're not cheering me up." She opened her eyes. "But there was a reason he always liked you better."

Khal Drogo had an army behind him. A marriage to him would put an army behind her, an army behind them.

"Can you promise me something?"

Saeherys leant forward until their heads knocked together. "Anything?"

"Look after him."

When Jaemar came back a decision had long since been made.