Disclaimer: I do not own anything from A Song of Ice and Fire or Game of Thrones. Everything here belongs to George R.R Martin.

Chapter XIII - Wine Assassinator

Daeron POV

I can't believe he is gone. Viserys was officially gone, and we were free. Yes, I am King as I have always been since I was three, but I only held the titular title as King, but I'm finally free from this annoying git. Daenerys felt the same as well. It was a sacrifice that Viserys had to die, we have lost most of our family already, even if Viserys was abusive, annoying and an irritation, he was still our family.

But at least our name and the blood of the dragon will continue onward through Daenerys and I. The strangest thing, however, was there were no wounds on my body from the fire pit. One healer believed that my clothes prevented full contact from the flames and being pulled out just the nick of time. Another thinks it was the Great Stallion saving me from protecting the khalakka.

It was still strange since it took Kovarro and Ser Jorah extinguishing the flames and they were burned slightly. But something felt off, something was stirring deep inside me. Daenerys felt the same. She told me she fell into a trance with her dragon eggs by the firepit in her hut. Something told her to put the egg on the embers. When she took the egg out, it was hot, yet she felt nothing. But Irri who took the egg out of her hand got a burn while Daenerys's hands were fine. How is it, Daenerys and I were not harmed by the fire yet Viserys died from it.

My father was born during the tragedy of Summerhall. My Great Great Grandfather, King Aegon the fifth, died with great-great-uncle Prince Duncan the Small, great-great-grandmother Queen Betha Blackwood, many Targaryen cousins, and Ser Duncan the tall. My grandfather managed to get my grandmother while she was in labor, and deliver my father in the gardens while Summerhall was consumed in flames. Additionally, King Aegon II was burnt by Meleys' flames, a dragon ridden by Rhaenys Targaryen, daughter of Prince Aemon, the Queen Who Never Was. My ancestress Princess Rhaenyra was killed by Sunfyre's flames. My ancestor uncle, Aeiron the Brightflame died drinking wildfire, believing he would turn into a dragon. So the concept of Daenerys and I being Targaryens, does not mean we are immune to flames. This is probably a blessing from the Lord of Light, after all Rh'llor and his followers are often associated with flames and fire.

I am still King, an exiled one. Though honestly, I don't care anymore. Right now, it is survival. The only people who've been calling me King Daeron were Doreah and Ser Jorah. I told them there was no need for formality. Not wanting to overshadow Daenerys. Most importantly, not be targeted by potential assassins. There are people who hold resemblance to Targaryens, being descendants of Old Valyria survivors from the doom. They don't practice incest, only marriage between first cousins, such as the ones in Volantis and Lys.

Anyway, I finished putting on a tunic on me and dismissed the girl who I was having sex with, when there was a knock on the post, "King Daeron."

I turned around facing Ser Jorah, "No need for titles, Ser Jorah."

Ser Jorah gave a small smile, "A man of great power should stand strong."

Ser Jorah nodded, as he removed the rag revealing the Targaryen sword. My eyes widened because I thought it burned with Viserys' body or a bloodrider confiscating it. He handed me the blade, which I held dearly. It wasn't House Targaryen Valyrian sword. No, there used to be two swords, Blackfyre and Dark Sister. Blackfyre, the Sword of Aegon the Conqueror was carried out through many generations until King Aegon the Fourth gave it to his illegitimate son Daemon Blackfyre. It was lost after the first Blackfyre rebellion, last seen by Bittersteel. Meanwhile, Dark Sister vanished along with its owner Brynden "Bloodraven '' Rivers. Another illegitimate son of King Aegon the Unworthy.

For some apparent reason, he hated his son Daeron the Second, my namesake,so he legitimized all his bastards and gave the family's sacred heirlooms to them. Now the sword in my hand was commissioned by my grandfather in his youth. Viserys told me the sword doesn't have a name. A sword doesn't need a name. So, it was mainly the Targaryen Sword.

"How?" I asked him.

"I managed to snatch it when you threw it away," Ser Jorah answered.

"Thank you," I whispered. I grabbed the sword and swung it around me, knowing that I have to use it someday. I've been trained by many masters of arms of my host, and have been quite adept at using it on assassins.

oOoOo

Daenerys's POV

The Khaleesi was bonding with Khal Drogo. She enjoys these moments, not having her husband put up his shield and be himself. The past few days have been overwhelming after Drogo kills Viserys with a "Crown of Gold," quite literally. Overall his action liberated her and Daeron from their brother's cruelty. At least Drogo was considerate enough to have Viserys cremated, except it was outside of Vaes Dothrak and no ceremony. Not wanting Viserys to be part of the Night Sky.

Now the remains were in Daeron possession as Head of House Targaryen, hoping one day to put Viserys to rest in Westeros. However, there was one issue, Khal Drogo has not mentioned anything about taking back Westeros, the deal that Daenerys marry Khal Drogo, they will crown Daeron as King of the Seven Kingdoms.. Daeron hasn't addressed Khal Drogo about the marital alliance yet unlike Viserys. Daenerys couldn't blame him since her brother was almost killed by Viserys, by shoving him in the firepit. Everyone gasped in shock, since it was the day when they were celebrating Daenerys' pregnancy.

But Daeron did not have injuries. The Healers praised that the Great Stallion saved Daeron for her attempt to protect the Khalakka…yet Daenerys had another theory. One she is not sure about. Either way, the Khaleesi wanted more for her family. She wanted to go home, back to Westeros. She wanted to avenge her father, mother and siblings, even though she never knew them, she remembered Daeron telling her about them and how they died brutally.

"The stallion who mounts the world has no need for iron chairs," Drogo said.

"According to the prophecy…the stallion will ride to the ends of the earth," Daenerys murmured.

"The earth ends at the black sea," Drogon stated in his culture's beliefs. "No horse can cross the poison water."

"The earth does not end at the sea…there are many dirts beyond the sea. The dirt where I was born." Daenerys said, finishing the braid. Drogo turned to face her, correcting her vocabulary.

"No dirt. Lands."

"Lands, yes…" She smiled. "There are thousands of ships in the free cities. Wooden horses that fly across the sea…"

"Let's not speak no more of wooden horses and iron chairs any more," Drogo said, putting an end to the discussion. Daenerys sighed, her brother was the rightful King, and Daenerys promised that she will be with her brother when he sits on the Iron Throne.

oOoOo

Daeron POV

The markets in Vaes Dothrak were alluring. All around there were exotic items from the east and merchandise from the west. This allows for bonding time with Daenerys. All afternoon we walked with Irri and Doreah and Ser Jorah who held Daenerys' purchases. Along with Rakharo and Aggo as protectors. Although, Daenerys had to spend our money cautiously. The Dothraki don't believe in currency, they contribute in trade and some stalls won't accept trade items unless it's worth in gem, silver, or gold. Luckily, Daenerys was given money as a wedding gift.

Later on, we spotted Ser Jorah wandering through the streets. He seemed determined, as he looked around as if searching for someone. Daenerys came over and offered to accompany us. I told her not to pursue people since Ser Jorah might be busy, but he accepted the offer. Letting him join us, we continued to walk when Daenerys brought up the Iron Throne again.

"Dany," I sighed.

"Daeron, you are the King. Drogo made a deal for my marriage," Daenerys said.

"The problem is I am a man from the Western Lands, an exile royal, and he is a Dothraki Warlord," I said. "The Dothrakis will never cross the Narrow Sea, and different culture and different things"

Daenerys sighed and looked at Ser Jorah, "Can you help me make him understand?"

"The Dothraki do things in their own time, for their own reasons." Ser Jorah answered. "I can counsel Daeron to renew the arrangement. Have patience, Khaleesi. We will go home, I promise you. Dorne will rise for both of you immediately"

"She doesn't have patience," I jest.

Daenerys sighed, "Viserys was a fool."

"I know, but he was still our uncle, had I died, he would've been King." I reminded her, it's strange how after his death, I was now defending his memory, while prior to Viserys' death, it was Daenerys who would defend Viserys from the Dothraki. Even though Daenerys was my sister, the Iron Throne follows a male progimeture which means females cannot inherit, if all the male die, then the closest paternal female relative shall inherit the throne.

Ser Jorah laughed.

"Have I said something funny, Ser Jorah?" I asked curiously.

"Forgive me, Your Grace, Khaleesi, but your ancestor Aegon the Conqueror didn't seize Westeros because they were his right. Aegon had no right to Westeros. He seized them because he could." Ser Jorah explained.

"And because he had dragons as his ultimate weapon," I added, stroking the small hair under my chin.

"Ah well, having a few dragons makes things easier," Ser Jorah said.

"You don't believe it," Daenerys accused.

"Have you ever seen a dragon, Khaleesi?" Ser Jorah asked. "I believe what my eyes and ears report. As for the rest…it was three hundred years ago. Who knows what really happened?"

"Well, I've seen Dragon Skulls before. When I was two, my father and mother brought Rhaenys and I to the Throne Room, where the Iron Throne was shown. There were dragon skulls hanging around the Throne Room, and they were fucking huge. I swear Daenerys, Balerion's jaws are larger than you. Ser Jorah, clearly you have never been to the throne room before." I noted.

"I must confess, I never have the opportunity," Ser Jorah confessed.

"Then how did you serve my grandfather?" Daenerys asked.

"Through a chain of command," Ser Jorah answered. "I may've been a knight, but I wasn't in the Kingsguard. Now if you'll pardon me, I'll seek out the merchant captain, see if he has any letters for me."

"Well, we'll come with you," I offered.

"No, no, don't trouble yourself," Ser Jorah kindly declined. "Enjoy the market. I'll rejoin you soon enough."

Something was strange about Ser Jorah. Wasn't he an exiled knight? Why would he be receiving a message? Let alone a captain merchant in the Dothraki seas? Unless he was still communicating with Magister Illyrio about our location and current events. I wonder what the Magister will be thinking now that Viserys is dead.

oOoOo

Daenerys and I entered the Western Market. All around we see familiar items. Merchants trying their best to speak Dothraki. It is a complicated language. "Vizetha gizikhven! Mra gora! Mra qora!" One merchant called out. Translating his words, "Red wine…I have sweet reds from Lys, Volantis and the Arbor! Tyoshi pear brandy! Andalish sour! I have them! I have them!"

"Shall we get some wine at home?" I suggested.

"Why not," Daenerys said as we chuckled. We walked over to the stall to see what else the merchant was selling. The man smiled, jumping off a barely and approached us, "A taste for the Khaleesi? I have a sweet red from Dorne, my lady. One taste and you'll name your child after me." He poured out a sample offering it to Daenerys since she wore the golden belt that identifies her as a Khaleesi.

"My son already has his name, but I'll try wine from the arbor" Daenerys graciously replied in common tongue. "Just a taste."

This surprised the merchant as he glanced between Daenerys and me, "My lord, my lady, you are from Westeros. May I guess, House Velaryon?"

"No, but they are our distant cousins," I said. Leaving it at that. Sadly, Doreah had to introduce us. "You have the honor of addressing Daenerys of House Targaryen, Khaleesi of the riding men and princess of the Seven Kingdoms. And his royal majesty, King Daeron of House Targaryen, the rightful heir to the Iron Throne."

I growled at Doreah who looked abashed.

"My King, princess," the merchant said with a bow.

"Rise," Daenerys said. "We'd still like to taste the Arbor."

"That?" he said, tossing the wine onto the ground. "Not worthy of royalty. I have Dornish Wine, both in honor of your mother Princess Elia Martell. Let me give you both a cask. Uh – gift."

He rushed inside his caravan cart. Something did not feel right. Arbor Wine was considered to be the most luxurious red wine in Westeros. So was Dornish Wine. Then again, it depends on one's taste buds, if you prefer sweetness you go for Arbor , if you prefer rich taste you go for Dornish. Still, I prefer Dornish Wine even more, as it has a stronger taste. And probably because I'm half Dornish. However, the merchant's actions appeared hesitant.

"You honor me, Ser," Daenerys said happily, especially at the mention of honoring our mother.

"The honor—the honor is all mine," he returns, handing it to Daenerys, yet Rakharo takes custody of it. He went back inside and brought in another, which Aggo took for me. "There are many in your homeland that pray for your return, Khaleesi"

"I hope to repay you for your kindness someday," Daenerys replied.

"Rakharo, Aggo," Ser Jorah appeared out of nowhere. "Put down both casks."

Both Khals obeyed, setting it on another barrel.

"Is something wrong?" I asked suspiciously.

"I have a thirst," Ser Jorah answered. "Open it."

Rakharo forced the barrel he held into the merchant's arm. The man grew nervous, "The wine is for the Khaleesi and King. It's not for the likes of you,"

"Open it," Ser Jorah insisted. The merchant paused, staring at us, until setting it on a table removing the cork. "Pour," Ser Jorah continued.

"It would be a crime to drink a wine this rich without at least giving it time to breathe," the man explained.

I scowled, "Do as he says."

"As my king commands," he said, sweating visibly, taking a cup and pouring a glass of Dornish red. He handed the sample to Ser Jorah who sniffed the wine, yet he too was cautious. "Sweet, isn't it? Can you smell the sour, Ser? Taste it, my lord. Tell me that is not the finest wine that has ever touched your tongue. "

Ser Jorah glanced at Daenerys and me, before bringing the cup to his lips. Just as he was about to take a sip, he stopped himself seeing the deviant merchant stare. He pulled the glass away, handing it to the man, "You first."

"Me?" the merchant asked, caught off guard. "I'm afraid I am not worthy of the vintage. Besides, it is a poor wine merchant who would drink up his own wares."

"You will drink," Daenerys ordered. "Or I'll have Rakharo and Aggo hold you down as the entire casket is poured into your mouth."

The man nodded, accepting the cup bringing it up to his lips. Only to hesitate, glancing at us until suddenly throwing it away, and grabbing a barrel; tossing it at Rakharo fleeing. Daenerys stumbled, but I caught her. I grabbed a knife on the floor and flung it at the wine merchant, narrowly missing him.

"Stop him!" Ser Jorah ordered. Irri and Doreah quickly held Daenerys as Aggo, Rakharo and I ran after the wine merchant, but Daenerys held my shoulder and said "Look!"

Looking at the ground seeing the seeped into the grass turning the green into brown. Poison. The man tried to poison us. Keeping a secure arm on Daenerys, Ser Jorah led the way, as he found Aggo and another Dothraki warrior restraining the merchant while Rakharo secured his whip. I thought we were far away from King Robert's assassins. It seems like once a year there was an assassin after us. The only time they never appeared was when we lived in Braavos under Ser Willem's custody and in Pentos. Usually, it is a blade or arrow, but poison wine is a first.

A poison in a Dornish Wine, no doubt a horrible joke that King Robert came up with, Dornish blood runs in our veins, through my mother, Queen Myriah Martell and Lady Dyanna Dayne, and yet we were almost killed by Dornish wine. Another thing was how Ser Jorah knew the wine was poison?

oOoOo

In the temple of the Dosh Khaleen. The assassin was tied to a pillar terrified of what could happen. Face bloody and swollen, some thanks to me. Not only did he try to poison us, but he attempted to poison a Khaleesi. The Great Khal Drogo's Khaleesi. Let alone Daenerys caring for the Stallion who mounts the world. My nephew. All thanks to Ser Jorah Mormont.

"How did you know the wine was poisonous?" I asked with my brows raised.

"Remember the merchant captain I'd gone to see?" he replied, which we nodded. "I received a letter from Magister Illyrio. Warning us about King Robert's assassins. Seeing a Westerosi merchant dumping Arbor wine is a sin, if not giving two casks of Dornish wine willingly."

"Coincidence." I concluded with a nod

"Coincidence indeed," Ser Jorah agreed.

"What will they do to him?" Daenerys asked.

"When the khalasar rides, he'll be leashed to a saddle forced to run behind the horses as long as he can," Ser Jorah answered.

"And when he falls?" Daenerys asked.

Ser Jorah paused, "I saw a man last nine miles once."

"King Robert still wants us dead," Daenerys sighed.

"This poisoner was the first. He won't be the last," Ser Jorah said.

"No, he's the first poisoner, but not the first assassin," I said.

Daenerys looked at me surprised. "When you were born, the usurper sent assassins before his brother Stannis arrived. While you were hidden, there've been attempts on Viserys and me, from the streets to our bedroom. The only reason we are still alive is because I sleep with a knife under my pillow or a host providing guards." I told her.

"I thought he'd leave us alone—now that Viserys is gone, you know because we're also half Martell and the Usurper would never dare to harm us in risk of angering Dorne." Daenerys said.

"Yet he did, for I am the last male Targaryen," I told her.

"And he will have your child." Jorah warned her.

"He won't," I promised, putting my arms around her shoulders as Daenerys layed her hand on her belly.

Ser Jorah looked at us, "He will not have either of you."

We pulled back just as the bloodriders and warriors entered the temple. Khal Drogo came, marching over to the poisoner. The man quivers in fear, face to face with the Great Khal. Drogo growled, taking a torch and tossed it in the fire pit, before walking over to Daenerys.

"Moon of my life," Khal Drogo said, expressing his worry as he cradles her face. "Are you hurt?"

Daenerys took his hand shaking her head. Drogo sighed in relief and kissed the top of her head. He turned to me, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"Brother?" he asked. I gave a nod that all is well. He gave me a Dothraki pat and went over to Ser Jorah "Jorah the Andal, I heard what you did," Drogo said walking over to Jorah. "Choose any horse you wish, it is yours." He rests his hand on the exile knight's shoulder and gives a Dothraki hug. "I made this gift for you."

Drogo then returned to Daenerys, resting his hand on her belly, "And to my son, the stallion who will mount the world, I will also pledge a gift. I will give him the iron chair…" he pulled away walking around the fire speaking to his riders. "…that is mother's grandfather sat upon. I will give him Seven Kingdoms. I, Drogo, will do this. I will take my Khalasar west to where the world ends…" his riders cheered. "…and ride wooden horses across the black salt water…as no Khal has done before." The riders cheered while screaming into the prisoner's face. "I will kill the men in iron suits…and tear down their stone houses." He marched around exaggerating his speech. "I will rape their women…take their children as slaves…and bring their broken gods back to Vaes Dothrak." The riders cheered. "This, I vow…I, Drogo, son of Bharbo. I swear before the Mother of Mountains…as stars look down in witness. As stars look down in witness!"

All it took the Dothraki to finally receive their omens of war…was an assassination attempt on a Khaleesi. Only I fear the consequences the people of Westeros will encounter. I condone the acts of rape and slavery. But a part of me was upset, that I will lose my claimant as the last male Targaryen, the son of the Crown Prince Rhaegar. Perhaps, I could request to have Dragonstone. The only ancestral home where the Targaryen went before the Doom of Valyria.

By morning Drogo's Khalasar with forty-thousands warriors behind him with their Khalasar. I rode beside Ser Jorah and Daenerys on the long journey towards South for Slaver's Bay to sell their captives, in exchange for ships. Tied by rope, naked, was the poisoner, being dragged by Daenerys's horse. It was satisfying to see him like this, but another thought went to me.

I am a Dragon, now surrounded by stallions.