She laughed, as he tried to imitate the guttural sounds, that his Dothraki guide had explained to him. He had to admit, it did feel kind of strangely foreign, but not enough to be comical. It was just another language he wished to learn, like the commonly used languages of the Free Cities.
"I didn't know that the Dothraki language would amuse you so, Arianne. I have hardly seen a Dothraki who would have passed for a fool at court." Tyrion replied, as he smirked up to her.
She was nearly twice as high as he was, as she rode high atop a magnificent steed, whereas he had been given a small pony. He was glad that their current hosts had a mount he could use, for he would have hated walking next to the riders, like one of their slaves. He remembered Magister Illyrio's words well. A man who cannot ride is no man at all. At least to the Dothraki. But with his trusty pony, he could keep up with them, though the pony, like he himself, lacked in height. The pitch black steed Arianne had gotten from the magister in Pentos, was a huge beast in comparison.
"It isn't the language itself, but hearing your attempts to make these strange sounds. It sounds like a choking horse." Arianne replied with a laugh.
"I don't see any use in learning this... peasant language. We should civilize these wild people and rather teach them our tongue or at least the bastardized Valyrian tongue the people speak in the Free Cities," Prince Viserys said disdainfully.
The prince rode next to Arianne, never straying far from her side. Tyrion was surprised at first, but he quickly resolved that he had thoroughly underestimated the dornish princess' ability and her new hold over the crown prince. In the few weeks since their arrival and departure from Pentos, she had invested much time and effort in gaining Viserys' favor. A smashing success as it seemed.
"It is always better to understand what your army has to say, your grace," Tyrion said pointedly, "You wish to use these wild nomads to win back your throne. Wouldn't it be better if you were the one to give them their orders, rather than a subordinate who speaks their language?" He looked challengingly at Viserys, almost hoping for another chance to verbally rebuke him.
Viserys gritted his teeth, sending Tyrion a disdainful look, before he answered, "Why should a king bother with such nonsense. I have men to lead my armies for me."
"Trust is good, my prince. But control is better. That is the most important lesson I have learned from my own father, before I left his influence. And trust is for friends and family, not sworn lords. You of all people should remember all too well how fickle the vows of allegiance in Westeros are."
"Like your brother's vow to protect my father with his life?" Viserys shot back.
The ever sore subject. Jaime's murder of Aerys Targaryen. Tyrion knew that this would take a long time to drill into Viserys head. "My brother did not murder your father out of sheer boredom, your grace. Even you have to admit that your father's sanity had been slipping, ever since the Defiance of Duskendale."
"And that is a justification for regicide?"
"Protecting half a million people and your brother's family is. Had my brother not stopped the Mad King, King's Landing would have burned to the ground with everyone in it. That would have included Princess Elia, Princess Rhaenys and Prince Aegon."
"Elia and Aegon died none the less. By the hands of your father's bannermen."
"Yet Rhaenys lives. Thanks to my brother. And thanks to her survival, you now have more supporters than you could have ever hoped for. When you return to Westeros, there will be an army waiting for you. An army of loyalists, who have never abandoned your family's cause, because Rhaenys Targaryen remained in Dorne to remind everyone of who should rightfully rule the Seven Kingdoms." Tyrion explained patiently. He had quickly seen that snapping at the prince was a futile endeavor. This man had to be treated like the insolent child he tended to be, albeit he was likely the most dangerous child Tyrion had encountered so far. But Viserys needed to be taught with patience and perseverance, not with force and fire.
And mentioning Rhaenys seemed to calm the prince's temper. "My niece... I wonder how she is at the moment. The last time we had received letters from her, we had been in Pentos."
"She should be in Highgarden at the moment. If everything has proceeded as planned, she should marry the heir of Highgarden soon." Tyrion replied, as he watched the prince closely. Viserys gritted his teeth once more, obviously displeased to hear that Rhaenys would marry soon.
"She should have been mine. My wife, as my father had decreed. To marry her to that..."
"It is a necessary action to strengthen the alliance that will win back your crown, your grace," Tyrion interrupted his rant quickly, "Just like your sister's marriage to Khal Drogo." He looked ahead, towards where Daenerys was riding, surrounded by some of the Khal's Blood Riders and Ser Jorah Mormont. "You have to make sacrifices, if you wish to win this war."
"But it does not mean that I have to like it..." Viserys muttered angrily.
"No, but it does mean that you have to stop acting like a spoiled child and act like the king you will be one day. Lead by example, not by complaining." Tyrion replied sharply. "The Seven Kingdoms need a strong king, not a brat who rants because of all the things he cannot have."
"Don't take offense, my love, Tyrion means well, even though his words are ill chosen," Arianne interjected, before Viserys could begin his rant. She steered her steed closer to Viserys and cupped his cheek with her hand. It was a loving gesture and Tyrion knew that the prince craved such things. He craved love and adoration, two things that Arianne would willingly give him. It was her way to steer him, though Tyrion hoped that she would not loose herself in her act and start to indulge him. She needed a clear head, so she could do what was necessary and not what Viserys wanted.
"Of course," Tyrion said gruffly, "But my point still stands. You need to learn how to rule, if you wish to sit on the throne. King's are not born, they are trained."
"Yes," Viserys admitted, as he sounded almost wistful. Arianne had done the small wonder to calm his temper in a record time, "My brother endured hours of lectures and training for his role as the heir... I had to learn as well, but as the spare I was given much more leeway."
"A question, though, my love," He nodded at Arianne, who showed him a radiant smile, "We have been told much about the crown prince, especially his past up to Harrenhal." She hesitated and Tyrion knew very well why. She was about to ask the one question that none of them had an answer for. The one question that had also plagued Rhaenys mind, ever since she was old enough to understand what had truly happened to her family, "That wolf girl, why was your brother so obsessed with her?"
Viserys frowned as he heard this. Tyrion had quickly learned that if there was one thing Viserys' hated with as much passion as he hated the traitorous Lannisters, that would be the rebels, foremost the Starks of Winterfell. But Tyrion also knew that there were many more things and people Viserys hated. There was no doubt that the hatred and bitterness would consume the young man, should they allow it to happen. But Arianne wouldn't allow that to happen and for that, Tyrion was glad.
"I don't know. That harlot must have thrown herself at him," Viserys replied scathingly. "She was a pretty thing, I have to admit. But nothing worth loosing the throne for."
"She is dead, my love, raging because of her is of no use to you. You have to focus on the future now. Your future as the king. On how you will lead the Seven Kingdoms back to glory." Arianne said soothingly.
It amazed Tyrion how she could influence the prince with simple words and the smallest of touches, whereas he had sometimes no chance to get the insolent boy to understand the most basic concepts of ruling, due to his stubbornness. Arianne was truly a fearsome mistress of seduction.
"Of course. You are right. The future is ours." Viserys agreed readily. "But I remember one thing my brother has told me once. Something he had read in one of the ancient tomes of the Maester. The dragon has three heads, there has to be a third. At that time he referred to his children back then. He already had a Rhaenys and an Aegon. All he lacked was a Visenya. He was sure that his children would be the greatest rulers of our blood, since the Doom of Valyria." Then he let out a mirthless chuckle. Tyrion could see the faintest of smiles on his lips, though he wasn't sure if it had really been there. He had a hard time seeing the prince's face from his low position, now that Arianne rode so close to him. "Ironically, his actions have lead to this situation. There are only three of us left. Myself, Rhaenys and Daenerys. The last three dragons. We are the ones who will lead the realm to greatness. We are the ones who will have our justice in the end."
"Yes. Yes, you will, my love. Once you have been crowned and taken your place on the Iron Throne, all of the Seven Kingdoms will rejoice." Arianne assured him.
Though he wouldn't admit it out loud, Tyrion was not so sure about this. Viserys was no king. It was impossible to say what he would turn out to be, once he had a taste of the real power that the king is given. But he was sure that it was more likely that Viserys would rather be Aerys' son, than Rhaegar's brother. And that possibility worried him greatly.
The khalasar had soon passed the mighty river Rhoyne. Tyrion had been impressed by the large river and the strangest of things he had seen there, even though he and his pony had trouble following the larger horsed through the small ford. The Dothraki had used this place to pass the natural barrier, that would have otherwise kept the West safe from the raging horse lords. The current was strong and some of the slaves, who had to walk, were swept away by the river, never to be seen again. But Tyrion made it through and followed the nomads further east. Step for step they went further away from the coast and thereby from any way back to Westeros.
In the late evening hours, after the khalasar had stopped and the tents had been erected, Tyrion was still awake and thinking. He sat alone next to a fire, poking in the blaze with a small stick. Though he would never admit it, especially not in front of Arianne, he missed his family. His brother, his sister-in-law and his nieces and nephews. He could only hope that they are alright, as they had long since lost contact with the west. Homesickness... Arianne would never let him live this down.
"What a forlorn look on your face, Lannister." Tyrion looked up to see who had joined him at the fire. It wasn't a Dothraki, only few spoke his tongue and event those who did were unable to hide their accent. Only when the man stepped closer to the fire, Tyrion recognized the bearded face of Jorah Mormont. As he looked the man over, Tyrion quickly came to the conclusion, that Mormont must be just as hairy, as the bear on his house's sigil.
"Jorah Mormont, a Stark bannerman was the least I had expected to find here in Essos." Tyrion said critically. He did not trust this man, his presence was... fishy.
"I could say the same. A khalasar is that last place one would search to find a Lannister dwarf and a dornish princess." Jorah replied with a friendly expression on his face. Or at least Tyrion believed it to be friendly. The darkness and the beard made that hard to distinguish. "Though I can easily guess why that princess is here, judging by the sounds coming from the tent she shares with the prince."
Tyrion chuckled when he heard that. Jorah was right with this, Arianne was kind of loud when she was with prince Viserys, not that anyone would have minded. Some of the Dothraki men actually looked at the prince with a shred more respect, though they had started taking their horses away from his tent, to prevent them from getting spooked.
"The pretty princess can be a screamer if she wishes to. Makes the blood screamers of the Dothraki pale in comparison sometimes," Tyrion admitted with another chuckle. "But you have not answered my question, Ser Jorah."
"It is a long and sad tale of a failed lord and an even worse excuse for a son," Jorah replied solemnly.
"Believe me, when it comes to disappointing fathers, I am an expert." Tyrion said.
"Can't imagine why. But I made mistakes for the sake of a woman, sold criminals as slaves to earn desperately needed money."
"Lord Stark did not like that in the slightest, I reckon."
"No, he did not. I had to flee my home and leave everything behind." Jorah replied.
"And now you ended up here, with the Dothraki." Tyrion did not believe that this wall all to his story. No, Mormont was hiding something and Tyrion resolved that he would find out what that is. "But why are you so insistent on following princess Daenerys around? Your family had a part in her family's demise, so your actions are cause for great caution."
"That war is long in the past and I did my duty to my father and my liege lord. The war was not against this child or her brother. But what you do to her is beyond cruel. She is a frail and frightened girl, sold to a menacing warlord. All you do is distance yourself from her, causing her more grief with every passing day, Lannister." Oh Tyrion knew this well enough. But Daenerys did not wish to talk to him or Arianne. He had no idea why and it bothered him more than he was willing to admit, but the young princess was quickly slipping from his influence and the Dothraki did not make it any easier to guide her. After her marriage, his only way to influence Daenerys, was through one of her handmaidens, who had shown great interest in helping him help the princess.
"Prince Viserys has not taken you into his service to babysit his sister, Ser Jorah. You are here to serve him, not the khaleesi of this khalasar." Tyrion said pointedly. He really had no idea what Viserys had been thinking, when he offered this man a place as his servant. Jorah Mormont had been respectful and courteous at Daenerys' wedding, but was this really enough to gain the prince's approval? Sadly the answer seemed obvious. "But if you excuse me now, I think that I will retire for the night."
He was not really tired yet. Far from it. His mind was still filled with all those unanswered questions. Jorah Mormont was just one of many mysteries here in this khalasar. Maybe he would find himself some distraction. The princess handmaiden seemed rather susceptible to his charms. And she was a from a Lysene pleasure house as well, just what he needed now. Yes, he would see if she could be persuaded to engage in some special activities.
Not a week after Tyrion's late night talk with Jorah, the Dothraki finally showed the ugly truth about their culture. The riders had been restless, after weeks without fighting. The last dead they had seen, were the men who had died during Daenerys' wedding and by now the warriors craved a fight. And they found it. But it wasn't much of a fight, it was a massacre.
A small village on the outskirts of the forest of Qohor had the misfortune to be exactly on the path the khalasar had chosen and the Dothraki were not picky when they wanted a fight. All animals had fled, once the riders got close, but these people had no prior warning. They stood no chance.
Tyrion watched the scene silently from the outskirts of the village. He dared not following the ravaging riders inside, as they looted, pillaged and raped their way through this settlement. It was a bloody business and as he watched on, Tyrion was sure that the Dothraki would not get many new slaves this day.
He looked over to Arianne. The princess was pale and looked away. But not seeing it was no relief. They could still hear it. The sounds of suffering. A tragic melody that all peasants sing some day. The people in Westeross knew it just as well as the people here in Essos. He could understand why the princess was reluctant to see the carnage. But he imagined that this experience only paled in comparison to what Jaime had seen and heard, when their father had sacked King's Landing at the end of the rebellion. According to rumors there had never been more death and more raped women than during the sacking of the capital.
Viserys, who stood next to Arianne, only looked impassively at the scene. A detached expression on his face.
"This is the horror you wish to unleash on your own people, your grace," Tyrion said, as he pointed at the settlement. "The Dothraki know no mercy. They will crush your enemies, yes they will, but they will also crush your people."
"Is there no one to protect these people? Isn't there a major city nearby?" Arianne asked feebly.
"Yes. Qohor. But it is at least one day on horseback away from here. Maybe more. But I doubt that they would come to help some peasants." Tyrion replied. He had studied the maps of Essos intently before they had left and tried to keep track of where they are and where they are headed.
"But why? Are these not their people?"
"The Free Cities only care for themselves and their trade. Haven't you seen it in Pentos?" Viserys said scathingly.
"Qohor has once prevailed against the Dothraki. A great success, but that does not mean that they will try their luck again any time soon. They have an army of slaves, the Unsullied, who defend their city. But such slaves are not cheap and each Unsullied is like worth more than ten peasants in this village." Tyrion told the princess.
"My love, could we please leave? I can't..." Arianne said weakly.
"No. I have to see this myself. We have to see it." Viserys replied, not showing a single ounce of compassion for his queasy betrothed.
Tyrion wasn't sure whether he should feel pleased or worried about Viserys sudden change of behavior. He was pleased that the prince would not close his eyes to the suffering he would cause, but at the same time he was worried that Viserys would take a liking to seeing people suffer... like his mad father had so many years ago.
"Come, the fighting has ceased. Let us see what damage the Dothraki have wrought." Viserys said, as he nudged his horse forward, towards the carnage that was the wild horde. Arianne followed only hesitantly, after looking pleadingly at Tyrion. But even the young Lannister could not spare her this sight. It was already all around them.
Tyrion was glad that he had not eaten yet, as the sight of slaughtered people would have upset even his stomach. Men, women and children, the Dothraki knew no mercy. The few who had survived the onslaught, were now either dying as well or herded together like cattle, to serve the khalasar as slaves.
"Is this what you want, your grace?" Tyrion asked Viserys once more. "Your war is with the traitorous lords, Stark, Baratheon, Tully and Arryn." He omitted the Lannister name every time he reminded Viserys of his real enemies. He may not like his father, but his uncles and most of his family were still somewhat dear to him. "This is war against the people. Your people."
"There have to be sacrifices to win the war," Viserys replied, as he tried to look undisturbed by the sight. But he did not succeed completely with that.
"You would be the king of an empty realm. Who will you rule, once this horde has slaughtered or enslaved everyone they can find?" He really did not like this. The Dothraki are no army, they are a blight that will destroy what is left of the Seven Kingdoms. He only hoped that Viserys would understand this and abandon his plans to bring this khalasar to the west.
He saw something move in the burning remains of some house. Despite his better judgment, he dismounted his pony and walked over to the ruin, to see with his own eyes what he spied there. But once he was close enough, he wished he had stayed with Viserys and Arianne. It was a young girl, trapped under the burning remains of the house, heavily burned and bleeding. She was closer to death than life. She was young, so very young. She couldn't be older than Joanna, yet her life would end here.
"...onqar..." The girl mumbled something, but Tyrion could not understand it. She was frightened to death and tried to move. But she was stuck, her body likely shattered under the rubble that had fallen onto her, whereas the rest of her body would be completely consumed by the flames soon.
"Hush, child, all will be well again. Rest, let it all go," Tyrion tried to calm her, but she clearly did not understand him. He gulped as he came to the decision to spare her any more suffering. A quick death was all he could give her. So he pulled out the dagger, which he always kept on his person, ever since they had arrived in Pentos, and thrust it into the girls heart. She shuddered for a moment, before she stilled. She was finally at peace, her amber eyes staring emptily at him.
Someone screamed nearby, in a language Tyrion could not understand. But he could easily identify the emotion in that voice. Horror, hatred, anguish. When he looked up, he saw a man ran towards him, with an ax in his hand. He yelled at him, as it was clear that he would kill Tyrion. But the man did not get far, before a rider passed him and severed his head from his shoulders.
The rider stopped next to Tyrion and looked down to him. Only belatedly he recognized the Dothraki on that horse. Rakharo, one of the four riders that served princess Daenerys now. Not that he was ungrateful, but he did wonder why this man was here and not with the princess. Not that he minded getting his life saved by him. "You, stay away," His grasp of the common tongue was halting, but it was enough to bring his point across. Tyrion had seen enough. He really wanted to get away from this bloody graveyard.
He looked once more at the girl he had killed. "Too young... far too young." He mumbled. He really hoped that his nieces and nephews would be spared from such a carnage. It was a futile wish, but he really hoped that they would never have to face this side of a war. He closed the dead girl's eyes, before he walked back to his pony, to leave this place.