Daenerys
A new dawn was shining upon the bricked walls of Pentos in front of Daenerys Targaryen's eyes as Magister Illyrio's wheelhouse crept toward the outskirt of the city. Guards were on their horses on the outside, shouting at the common people to make ways; and Unsullied followed right behind on their feet. This was too slow for Viserys; so he charged his horse ahead of the party, with half a score of guards. He disallowed any Unsullied in his company. The Magister and Dany each had a servant by their side. A dark-skinned man, from the Summer Isles whose name Dany could not remember, had a task of feeding the Magister with dates. Dany's one was a young Lyseni girl, pale skin with blue eyes.
"Are you sure you do not want a taste of these sweet dates, Princess?" asked the huge-bellied Magister as he spat out the seeds. "They are dipped in the best honey ever."
"No, thank you." Dany softly replied, as she looked out the window frame once again. Dany had left the city numerous times before, when Viserys took her out for festival and sometimes hunting. Everywhere servants were doing their jobs, whether fetching water for their masters, or washing their clothes. A red-haired prietess was shepherding her surrounding followers; all of them chanting some rituals in an unknown language. Daenerys had lived in this slave-filled city for almost half a year, after the Magister took Viserys and her in and provided them his support. Illyrio was all smilling and sweet-talking, but it did not take so long even for a young girl like Dany to figure out that, behind those crooked yellow teeth, Illyrio always had an agenda. "Oh I know, sweet sister," Viserys had responded when Dany told him of her suspicion, in his usual unpleasant voice, "He wants return for his investment. And I will give him just that when I sit on the Iron Throne."
And where would I sit, brother? Dany had wanted to ask, but she knew that would just make her brother angry. "You don't want to wake the dragon, do you?" Viserys always said that, when Dany did something he considered punishable. When she was still a kid, Viserys would pinch her cheek, should he thought she displeased him. It hurt the most, though, when he began pinching her back arms. She would squeak, cry out in pain and repeatedly screamed her apology. Lately, Viserys had started to target her breasts instead. She did not know why Viserys would do that, because it did not hurt that bad at all; and he pinched and twisted them hard. The wheelhouse kept moving as Dany softly asked her own servant for some water.
"You don't ask for favor, Princess," said the Magister, one hand stroking his yellow beard, his left breast sagging against the couch. "We tell them what to do. We command them."
"Have you lived here all your life, Magister, in Pentos?" Dany asked as she sipped a bit of water, avoiding the subject of disguised slavery.
The Magister looked at her for a moment. "I'm so happy that I have not, Princess, since it'd be a very boring life," said Illyrio, still chewing those sweetened dates. He started sitting up; his jewels jingling. "I had travelled all the Free Cities, even to the Sunset Kingdom. I did spend the most time of my life here, in Pentos. I was poor, though. Very poor. Yet muscular. Can you believe that?" He roared a laughter.
"I was a bravo then. Sellsword sometimes. I had my mouth to feed, I hope you understand," the Magister continued when Dany kept her silence. "Then I met this young man. And our lives changed. For the better."
"How so?" Dany wondered.
"It was a long and complicated story, Princess," Illyrio replied. "Let's just say that we had such a, ah, successful partnership; if one can say that." Another roar of laugh.
"This man that I am going to see," Dany delibrately changed the subject. "Can he kill the usurper?"
"Drogo?" Illyrio said, eyes widening. "He might. I am not sure that he could. Robert Baratheon is not a man to be taken lightly of. But I am sure that Drogo's army, his khalasar, could, once they landed on the shore of the Seven Kingdoms. You will not be alone with the Dothraki, though. There are people in Westeros that still support your father's House, Princess. They yearn for your return. They yearn for your brother to overthrow the usurper." He stopped for a moment, "Ah I just realized that he asked me the same question. Two of you, ha, are quite the same." His third round of laughter came.
I am nothing like my brother, thought Dany in her head. But she knew better to keep it. Viserys and Magister Illyrio had been very close recently, talking and planning all the time ever since they met. Dany never knew what idea Illyrio had put inside Viserys's head; but her brother had become such a different man. He looked to have been rejuvenated again, after years and years of running and hiding away in rags and poverty from the usurper's assassins; whom Viserys claimed to have been sent to kill him and Dany herself. "As long as I live, I am his biggest threat to the Kingdoms," her brother had said. Dany had never seen anyone suspicious nor felt any threat, though. They all dressed nicely now, thanks to the Magister. Viserys took great pride in that, especially after Illyrio gave him that shining sword to swing around. "I look a proper lord and King now, don't I?" Viserys had asked Dany. She nodded her head in acceptance, though did not think so at all.
Dany tried to ask the Magister more when the cart came to a sudden halt. Illyrio signalled the servant for more dates. They had reached the Sunrise Gate, through which they could go further east. Dany took a peek outside, and saw a half dozen Unsullied guarding in front of the massive, wooden gate. And Viserys in his usual bad mood. "Open the door for the King, you cock-less scums," screamed her brother in anger, "I command it!" The Unsullied made no move. Magister Illyrio peeked his enormous head out of the window, and gave it a nod. The sun had finally come in its whole form. Dany suddenly felt the heat.
One of the guarding Unsullied nodded his head; and the others soon stepped aside to open the door and make way. Viserys quickly rode his way out, not before screaming some more obscenity at the Unsullied. He had put on his best clothes today, with the three dragon heads embroidered on the front of his tunic, his silver hair let hanging loose. On his side hung the sword that was given to him by Illyrio. Fiery Blade, he proudly named it. Dany thought it sounded like a name befit for a wooden sword. The wheelhouse followed Viserys soon after, with the rest of the company. Magister Illyrio kept on spitting out date seeds.
"Where are those savages?" asked Viserys, when they were all outside. "How dare they make me wait!"
"They'll come," said Illyrio, as he and Dany stepped out of the wheelhouse. "And I, as your ever faithful advisor, Your Grace, would never advise you to call upon them savages. The Dothraki is not one to take insults lightly."
Viserys snorted and wheeled his horse toward Dany, "You look beautiful today, sister. I am glad." Dany nodded and smiled in feared appreciation.
"Ah, here comes the Princess's bridegroom," said the Magister, after a while, as the ground started to rumble.
Here comes the Princess's buyer, Dany thought. How can someone be my husband if I never meet him? The news had come to Dany as unexpected as it was fearful. They were having supper when Illyrio brought it to their attention. He had struck a pact with some foreign horselord who supposedly had with him a fifty thousand riders at his command and as twice as many horses. "You marry the princess to their lord," told the Magister to Viserys, without looking at Daenerys. "And after his son and heir is born, all his army is yours, Your Grace. He will help you reclaim the Iron Throne." And so swiftly agreed her brother. Dany had always thought she would marry Viserys someday, though. That night, he pinched both of her breasts so tight that it ached for days.
Here comes the Princess's slaver, Dany thought as she heard the coming and neighing of horses. Am I different from those horses? Or those slaves back in the city? Dany felt a tingling in her eyes as she pinched her palm to make it go away. If Viserys sees me cry, the dragon would wake. Yet she had never felt so scared, and alone. The princess noticed an unmounted horse right beside her. If I run away, will I get caught?
Here comes the Princess' nightmare. Dany thought as the army came closer and closer. Dany had dreamt for many the nights of a creature half man and half horse coming onto her bed at night, and took her behind as Viserys and Illyrio watched in laughter. Sometimes, the upper half was human-like and the bottom was all horse parts. Sometimes, it reversed. Maybe, the lord of this army is one of these creatures. Maybe all of them are. A single tear fell down Dany's left cheek, as she hastily washed it away. The horse beside her neighed.
It turned out none of them were. The Dothraki were just like normal people. Well, they were in fact much bigger. Their skins were mostly copper in color, probably due to horse-riding under the heat with no upper clothing. They were fear-transpiring, with long beard and much longer hair styling in braids; eyes with a color of dark almond and scars covering their body. Their favorite choices of weaponry seemed to be some kind of a curved sword, a whip or a bow. They were all on horse's back, screaming as they rode. "You could hear those mad Dothraki screamers from very, very far away," remarked the Magister.
When the party came to a complete stop, a single rider guided his horse toward Dany and her companion, accompanied by three other men right behind him. His army stopped their screaming. The big rider looked a normal Dothraki, with a longer and drooping moustache. His hair, however, was much and much longer. It was tied into a long braid with tiny bells that almost hung down to the ground as he mounted.
"After an enemy is defeated by a Dothraki," whispered the Magister to Dany's ears, "he cuts off the fallen foe's braid, and add it to his own. Khal Drogo has never been defeated. That's why his braid is so long." And as the horselord came closer, his bells jingling in triumph, the Magister came forward and raised his voice, "May I introduce to you, Drogo, son of Bharbo, the Great Khal of the khalasar, Great Rider of Dothraki Sea!" Drogo's eyes were fixated on Dany. She felt so naked as her arms moved upward to cover her chest. Viserys pinched her back arm again, as he commanded her to drop the arms. "And stand before you, Khal Drogo, are the last blood of the Targaryen dynasty," the Magister bellowed. "King Viserys Targaryen, the Third of his Name, King of the Andals and Rhyonars and the First Men, and rightful Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. Beside him is his beautiful sister, your soon-to-be wife, Princess Daenerys Targaryen."
Magister Illyrio stepped aside quickly after the formal introduction as Drogo stopped his stallion in front of Dany, with Viserys still mounted beside her. Illyrio had advised him the night before to unmount when the Dothraki came, but apparently Viserys refused to be inferior to these riders he considered savages. The three companions behind Drogo also discontinued, but kept their distance from her entourage, hands holding on their weapons. In front of the big Dothraki lord, Viserys looked a child than a king. For once in his life, Viserys said nothing as he gazed at Drogo in silence. Drogo never paid a look at her brother, however. Dany stared at Drogo; her frightened eyes met his, fearing to turn away as it might be a sign of disrespect. She was sure she saw something glittering inside those eyes. Dany's body started to lightly shake in horror; her knees weak with fear and cold chill. I can still hear that horse neighing.
After a lengthy moment of silent inspection, Drogo abruptly turned his horse around and rode back to his army, followed suit by his three comrades.
"What happened?" demanded Viserys, as the Dorthraki started to depart, as loud as the time when they arrived. "Is there something wrong with her? Was he not pleased?"
"Oh, Your Grace, trust me, if he was not, we would have known," said Magister Illyrio, as he spat out the last of his date seeds.
Daenerys Targaryen held her breath.
