Chapter 19: New Ally

If someone were to ask Daenerys Targaryen about the world before she had been married to the great Khal Drogo, she would have only confessed only remembering Illyrio Mopatis' manse, and some other areas in Pentos. Viserys had kept her confined and definitely made it an objective to make sure Daenerys never wondered too far away from him or Pentos if she managed to even get that far. It may have been unlikely, but she knew there were ways of escaping the manse, ways of escaping her late brother.

However, if one was to ask her about how well-travelled she was when she had been married to the greatest Khal Essos had ever seen, then she would have admitted to being a lot happier as a nomadic tribal leader that could travel wherever she wanted with her lover and her group. Ser Jorah never complained and seemed to get along well with the Dothraki, and made a friend out of Rakharo. Annalise and the other girls like Irri, Jhiqui and Doreah seemed to get along just as well, even somehow managing to get along with the intimidating man that was Khal Drogo.

At that moment in time, the Khalasar had decided to stop outside Qohor to retrieve their new ransoms, so they don't end up sacking the entire city. Qohor had a great history, and one of their specialities was their blacksmithing, as they were the only people with the knowledge of how to make something that just barely resembled Valyrian Steel. That, and the Dothraki had no need of such things, creating an arakh was just asking for something complicated, and nobody had even contemplated creating an arakh made from Valyrian Steel, that was even if someone had even tried.

Daenerys and her entourage were making a trip around the markets, and as she was the wife of the man who held the city at ransom, she was free to go wherever she liked, as long as she did not inquire about how the Qohorik blacksmiths did their work. Dany was definitely interested in how they did their work, especially as it was so closely related to how her ancestors did their own work. From the legends that the Khaleesi had heard, it seemed like some of the Valyrian forges would have needed the heat of a dragon and a blacksmith who knew how to do the spells and incantations on the sword to make it unbreakable. She only knew of two Valyrian Steel swords that supposedly existed: Blackfyre and Dark Sister, the swords of House Targaryen.

"Khaleesi, the next few stalls are wines and different types of drink." Irri said.

"Oh? Maybe they have something from my homelands…." Daenerys pondered aloud.

The sun was beating down heavily that day, and it seemed like the pale white skin that the Targaryens were known for was almost not noticeable on Daenerys. Instead, her skin was almost olive in colour, the pale skin tanned by the constant days and weeks in full view of the suns rays.

It had been a few months since Daenerys had been married to Khal Drogo, and that terrifying ordeal that was the first few weeks of their marriage. Yet she had grown to love him, and she loved him more than anyone else that she had known before. She never knew her father, King Aerys, and she could scarcely remember her mother Queen Rhaelle, and her brother definitely did not love her in the slightest. If anything, the people around her shown her more affection than her own family: Annalise and the girls, even Ser Jorah Mormont treated her like family, and obviously Drogo showered his Khaleesi with attention.

As the small group of women walked across the market, they gazed upon the magnificent and weird objects that the merchants were selling. Some were animal skins from animals like 'tigers' or 'lizard-lions' or animals that Daenerys or her girls had never even heard of. Some merchants were selling of clearly fake goods, and some others were selling potions and concoctions that were guaranteed to give their drinker immortality or skill in bed, yet all of them were false, Daenerys had concluded.

The only way one gets good at something is with practice…

She had seen Khal Drogo practice fighting with some of his bloodriders, and had the scarce time to even see Jorah practice, but it was a rare occasion when she got to see him in full plate armour. It was a very stark contrast, between the two men: Jorah and Drogo. Drogo fought with ferocity, he was quick and light-footed, swing his arakh around like it weighed absolutely nothing, yet if he made one wrong step, he would be dead or at the least, seriously wounded.

Then she would occasionally see Jorah fight, usually in riding leathers or some of his armour on, usually around his legs or arms. From what she had heard from Rakharo, Jorah had an advantage over them if he had ever thought about fighting the Dothraki. Apparently, the Dothraki Hordes spotted around Essos and further away were used to one hit kills or at least having their opponents disabled as they were no armour. Jorah had the one hit advantage and more luck as he wore his steel plate armour.

As the Khaleesi and her group wandered the markets, the merchant men and women, tradesmen and craftsmen from all over the world begging the Khalessi and the girls with them to try their products, yet they had no interest.

"Ser Jorah, can't you make him understand?" Daenerys asked, slightly begging, although begging was almost beneath her.

"Khaleesi, the Dothraki do things in their own time, and they do it for their own reasons. Don't worry yourself too much, we will be home soon." Jorah replied.

"My brother was a fool, I know that much at least, but he was the rightful heir to the Iron Throne to the Seven Kingdoms," Jorah started to laugh slightly, but it died in his throat as soon as Daenerys glared at him. "Did I say something funny, Ser?"

"Please forgive me, Khaleesi, but did Aegon the Conqueror take over six of the seven kingdoms because it was his right. He did it because he could do it. He seized them because he could seize them, he had no right at all."

"And because he had dragons." Daenerys added.

"Yes, well having three almost fully grown dragons also helps too." Jorah replied with a smile.

"You don't believe, do you?"

"Have you ever seen a real dragon, Khaleesi? The last real dragon died when it was only the size of a dog, or so have I heard. As for the rest of it, it was three hundred years ago, who knows how it really happened? Now, if you will excuse me I must go and seek out the Merchant Captain, and see if I have any letters awaiting me from my family." Jorah said.

"Then I will accompany you then." Daenerys stubbornly said.

"No, please don't trouble yourself. I will catch up with you soon enough."

Yes, I will see you later, Jorah, hopefully when you decide to try and help my cause…

The older warrior strolled off, leaving Daenerys and her girls wandering the markets with only Rakharo as guard. The merchants were chanting at other people know, but they still knew she was inside the crowd, but they had stopped heckling her and attempting to beckon them over to their stalls. Soon, they had came up to the wine merchants who was beckoning them and some others over.

"Mra qora! Mra qora! I have sweet reds! I have sweet reds from Lys, Volantis and The Arbor! Tyroshi pear brandy! Andalish sours! I have them! I have everything!"

Soon enough, the wine merchant noticed the group of Dothraki nearing him and began to focus his attention on them, forgoing the other potential customers.

"Khaleesi, how about a sweet red wine from Dorne? One taste and you will be naming your first child after me!"

"I already have a name for my first child, but I would not mind tasting your summerwine. Juste a taste." Daenerys replied.

"You… You are from Westoros, Khaleesi?" The merchant asked, somewhat dumb-founded.

Annalise began to introduce the Khaleesi. "You have the honour of addressing Princess Daenerys of House Targaryen, Khaleesi of the riding men and Princess of the Seven Kingdoms."

"Princess..." The merchant said, bowing before her.

"Rise, I would still like to try your wine."

"Of course, Your Grace, a free cask for the Khaleesi."

The merchant dashed inside of his tent stall that housed his merchandise, pulling out a large cask of summerwine for Daenerys, which Rakharo pried from the merchants hands.

"You know, there are many people in Westoros who pray for your return, Your Grace." The merchant said.

"Well, I hope to repay your kindness in kind one day."

At that moment, Jorah had returned and began his duty once more, probably in the most rude manner he could have done.

"Open the cask." He ordered. "I have a thirst. Rakharo, put the cask down."

"Umm, the wine is for the Khaleesi, not for the likes of sellswords and rabblerousers like you."

"Open it." He said sternly.

The merchant took a deep sigh, breathed and made his way to the group, raising the cask to his table, and opened it.

"Pour."

"It would be a crime to pour the wine without giving at least some time to breath."

"Do as he says." Daenerys ordered.

"Of course." The merchant took a small cup and filled it to the brim.

Smells too sweet…

"Can you smell it? The lovely sweetness of the greatest summerwine you will ever try?"

"You first."

"Me? I am afraid I am not worthy of the vintage. Besides, I would be a poor merchant if I was to drink my own wine."

"You will drink."

The man made a toast, and raised the cup to his lips, but just barely allowed the fluid to touch them, just allowing the see-through liquid to touch his lips. As soon as the wine made contact with his lips, the merchant through the cup away and ran as fast as he could to avoid the two armed men who had drew their weapons.

"Rakharo! Stop him!" Jorah yelled in Dothraki.

Rakharo drew his whip, and whilst the merchant continued to charge past the moving crowds in front of him, Rakharo let loose with his whip, and just as it seemed to wrap around the merchant's leg, it did not even matter.

The merchant was raised from the ground, and the small man dangled helplessly as the man lifted him up effortlessly, with his hand around the merchant's throat. From what Daenerys and the others could tell, the man was wearing a very large set of armour, and it seemed to shimmer as the sun beat down on it.

The drawing of steel was heard, and the small merchant man was thrown to the ground in a heap. The man that had held him up before seemed to be wearing a very different set of armour, it glimmered in the sun and the plate seemed to be an immaculate, as if it was a very new set of armour. Various types of cloth covered the plating, as if the man underneath was trying to be inconspicuous, but the box-like helmet did not help with that.

The merchant began to crawl away, and then soon realised he was trapped on both sides, with the unknown man in front of him and the Dothraki behind him.

"You should not have done that now, should you?" The man in armour growled.

The last thing merchant would see until he woke up would be the large glowing sun on the man's chest as a mailed fist smashed into his face.