Outside the city walls of Pentos, massive hordes of Dothraki warriors, along with their women, children, and slaves, have gathered to celebrate their Khal's wedding day. An earthen ramp has been raised in the middle of a vast grass field. Dany sits beside Khal Drogo. Beautiful as she is in her wedding silks, she looks as scared as a trapped animal. Khal Drogo does not seem to notice her. He shouts commands and jests in his own tongue to his bloodriders, who sit below him on the second-highest level of the ramp. Also seated on that level are Jorah Mormont, Magister Illyrio, and Viserys, who looks splendid in a new black wool tunic with a scarlet dragon on the chest. They are in the midst of an urgent conversation, keeping their voices low.

Illyrio waves languidly, rings glittering on his fingers. "Trust me. The Khal has promised you a crown and you shall have it.

"When?" Viserys demanded impatiently.

"When the Khal chooses," Illyrio answered. "When the omens favor war.

"I spit on Dothraki omens," Viserys rudely commented about them. "I've waited twenty-one years to get my throne back. I'm tired of this country, tired of living with savages.

Above them on the ramp, Daenerys steals a Drogo. He seems unaware of her existence, grass below with no expression on his face. Daenerys turns to see what he's watching: Dothraki drummers pound on their horseskin drums as a dozen young Dothraki women begin dancing for their Khal. The Dothraki are not a repressed people. The dance is overtly sexual, so overt that a warrior soon steps into the circle, grabs a dancer by the arm, pushes her to the ground and takes her right there in front of the cheering crowd.

Khal Drogo grins and nods. Evidently this is appropriate wedding behavior. Daenerys watches with horror. Soon a second warrior has grabbed a dancer, and then a third. The trouble begins when two warriors try to lay claim to the same woman. Both men draw their scimitars and begin swinging at each other. The combat is fast, brutal and efficient, the steel blades blurring in the sunlight. Finally one man misses a parry. An instant later his entrails spill onto the dust and he falls. The victor seizes a girl, not even the original girl they were fighting over, and the crowd roars in approval.

Illyrio claps politely and explains to Viserys, "A Dothraki wedding without at least three deaths is considered a dull affair."

Khal Drogo stands and raises one hand. Instantly the horde goes silent. The only noise is the bleating of a lost sheep. glance at Khal staring at the Drogo looks at Dany. There is no sign of mercy in his face. She realizes that everyone at the wedding is watching her. Finally she stands. He nods and leads her down the ramp, into the center of the field. Dany stands beside her new husband, encircled by her new tribe, looking very small and pale next to Drogo.

"Time for the gifts," Illyrio said.

Dothraki men surge forward, prostrating themselves before their Khal and laying down gifts in a growing pile: medallion belts and painted vests, soft furs and silks, silver rings.

Viserys approaches with a thin smile on his face. He leads three handmaids. Two are Dothraki girls with black hair and almond-shaped eyes. The third is fair-haired and blue-eyed. He turns to his sister. "These are not common servants. Irri will teach you riding, Jaqui the Dothraki tongue, and Doreah... the art of love." He focuses his attention on one known as Doreah and grins at her. "She's quite good. Illyrio and I can vouch for that."

Ser Jorah approaches next, laying a small stack of old books before Dany and bowing deeply. "A small gift, my princess, but all a poor exile could afford. Songs and histories of the Seven Kingdoms.

The gift touches Dany: she smiles, and speaks for the first time at her own wedding. "Thank you, Ser."

Ser Jorah is pleased that his gift is pleasing. He glances at Khal Drogo, bows again, and steps back.

That was when Illyrio snaps his fingers. Immediately four burly slaves hurry forward, bearing between them a great cedar chest bound in bronze. Illyrio bows low and gestures for Dany to open the chest. Inside, resting on a pile of fine velvets and damasks, are three large eggs: one green, one cream, one black. She takes one into her hands. The egg shimmers like polished metal. The surface of the shell is covered with tiny scales.

"Dragon's eggs, from the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai," Illyrio introduced. "The ages have turned them to stone, but they will always be beautiful."

Viserys, standing beside Ser Jorah, rolls his eyes. "Fakes, of course.

Fake or real, the egg mesmerizes Dany. She rolls it in her hands, letting the light play off the shell. "Thank you, Magister. I owe you everything."

That was when Khal Drogo walks into the crowd. Daenerys, confused, tries to hide her anxiety. The Dothraki look back at her. To her, they are an exotic people, but to them she is like a visitor from another planet. They have never seen a girl with silver blond hair and violet eyes before. Drogo reemerges from the crowd, leading a splendid young filly, gray as the winter sea. Everyone waits to see how Dany will react. Hesitantly she reaches out to stroke the horse's neck, running her fingers through its mane. Drogo says something in the Dothraki tongue and Illyrio translates.

"Silver for the silver of your hair, the Khal says," Illyrio translated for the Khal.

"She's beautiful," Daenerys whispered.

Drogo steps forward, puts his hands on Dany's waist, lifts her as easily as if she were a child's doll, and places her on the filly's thin saddle. The Dothraki stare at their new queen.

Daenerys turns to Ser Jorah. "What should I do?"

"Take the reins and ride," Ser Jorah answered for the Magister. "You don't have to go far."

Dany gathers the reins and slips her feet into the stirrups. She squeezes gently with her knees and the filly breaks into a trot. At first Dany seems frightened, but as the crowd parts for her and the speed increases, she smiles. She sends the filly into a gallop through the campground, and now the Dothraki are hooting and laughing and shouting at her, impressed by their new khaleesi's spirit. At full speed Dany and the filly circle back, a little out of control. A fire pit looms ahead, directly in their path. They are hemmed in on either side by hollering Dothraki. There is no way out but straight ahead. The silver horse leaps the flames as if she had wings. The crowd cheers. Dany pulls up beside Illyrio.

"Tell Khal Drogo he has given me the wind," Daenerys said.

Illyrio translates the line. And for the first time that we've seen, Khal Drogo smiles. The bloodriders bring forth the Khal's horse, a lean red stallion, and Drogo mounts.

Viserys approaches Daenerys on her filly. He looks very pleasant as he grips his sister's leg. "Make him happy." His fingers dig into her thigh and Daenerys flinches. Khal Drogo trots off on his stallion and Dany follows behind, looking back at Viserys and Illyrio and Ser Jorah. The exhilaration that brightened her face a minute before is gone. The fear is back.

Drogo drives his stallion at a hard trot, the tiny silver bells in his long braid ringing softly as he rides. Dany follows behind. The sun is down and the darkening sky above her head is vast and ominous. They ride through a meadow of cattails and tall grass.

Drogo stops at a grassy spot beside a gently-flowing stream. He swings off his horse and lifts Dany off hers. She stands there, helpless and trembling in her wedding silks, while Drogo secures the horses to a nearby tree. When he returns Dany starts to cry. Drogo stares at her, his face strangely empty of expression. He rubs away her tears with a callused thumb.

"You know the Common Tongue?" Daenerys asked.

Khal Drogo responds his only answer. "No."

It was at that moment that Khal Drogo began to touch her hair lightly, sliding the silver strands between his fingers and murmuring softly in Dothraki. Dany does not understand the words, but there is a warmth in his tone, a tenderness she had not expected. He puts his finger under her chin and lifts her head, so she is looking him in the eyes. Drogo towers over her the way he towers over everyone. Taking her lightly under the arms he lifts her and seats her on a rounded rock beside the stream. He sits on the ground facing her, legs crossed beneath him. Finally their faces are at the same height.

"Is that the only word you know?" Daenerys asked again.

Drogo doesn't reply. His long heavy braid is coiled in the dirt beside him. He begins to remove the rings and bells. After a moment, Dany leans forward to help. When they are done, Drogo nods. Dany hesitates and then understands: she begins to undo his braid. He sits silently, watching her. When she is done he shakes his head and the hair spreads out behind him like a river of darkness. Now it's his turn. Drogo undresses her, his fingers deft and strangely gentle. He removes her silks one by one while Dany sits unmoving, staring at his dark eyes. When he bares her small breasts, she averts her eyes and covers herself with her hands.

Then, he pulls off the last of her silks. She shivers in the evening wind. Khal Drogo, still sitting with his legs crossed, looks at her, drinking in her body with his eyes. He runs his hand gently down her leg. He strokes her face, tracing the curves of her ears, running a finger over her lips. He turns her around, kissing her from the nape of her neck to the small of her back. Next, he pulls her down into his lap. Dany is flushed and breathless. He cups her face in his huge hands and she looks into his eyes.