"Lest us not forget, oh brothers! Terror- it is justice. Godlihood and virtue are achieved through this expression of God's will. For us to communicate Faith- we must be prompt, severe and inflexible; it is then, through our swords, through our works and our wonders, an emanation of virtue rises; ours is a distinct principle o'brothers! God's natural consequence- the general principle of faith, applied to the most pressing wants of the Hollene."- Nor De Lacii, Bolton general responsible for the Great Northern Pogoms (411 years before Robert's Rebellion)
DAENERYS
Daenerys felt as if her skin wrinkled.
Viserys looked at her with cold mauve eyes. His hair was worn straight, silver and blonde, brilliant as the sun. A braid was wrapped around his temples like a crown of locks, and he was dressed richly- a bold long-sleeved tunic with flared cuffs, complete with white breeches and knee-high black boots. A sword hung from a jeweled belt, and his fine long fingers, white and thin, thrummed the circular pommel of his weapon.
"She is waifish. The words of our escorts have led me to believe these Dothraki are voracious when it comes to their women." Viserys' said plainly, his gaze then leaving Daenerys' own. The young girl could tell well enough Viserys was catching the eye of their host- an obscenely obese man they knew as Illyrio Motapis.
The man flew around on a low-gravity pod, his fat spilling out over the sides as he maneuvered to face both Daenerys and her brother.
Daenerys watched the man's chubby fingers as they rapped the fine gold of his sputtering pod, numerous rings scraping across the metal.
Illyrio's eyes swam in his fatty face, sagging and half lidded. He had a long forked beard, as bright and yellow as his teeth.
"Your sister is very beautiful. I am sure that once their Prince sees her, he will ensure Khal Dragan will readily accept our terms. But I must leave you, for now. Preparing for an Oselikai Khalasar is something that needs my immediate attention." Illyrio bowed his head- or as well as he could with the piles of fat underneath his chin- and weaved about on his craft, leaving the room, two slaves retreating with him.
Daenerys stepped backwards as Viserys focused on her again. He was handsome, pouted lips and high cheekbones graced his face. His eyes were beautiful but cruel. His pupils seemed to change their shade depending on his mood, and now they were dark, shadowy and grim.
"You better not fail me, sister." Viserys said, walking towards her, his hand on his swordhilt. Outside, the low hum of hovercrafts were heard, merchant ships lying close to the ground, with larger trade barges floating high in the yellow sky, thousands of single pilot crafts buzzing between the sandy-colored airships, ferrying merchants and cargo.
"I . . . I do not want to marry him. Khalan Drogo." Daenerys whispered, looking away from Viserys as his eyes dug at her, a breath's gasp away from her face. He smiled then, and closed her around him, his wiry arms hugging her close.
She relaxed then, resting her head on his small chest. She had seen fourteen years, and as far as she had known, she was supposed to marry Viserys, not this Khalan Drogo.
Viserys- he had told her as much before, telling her that to keep the Targaryen bloodline pure, their ancestors wed sister to brother, uncle to niece.
"Our people- the Akaeyrens and the Targaryens- left this planet long ago. Look outside, Daenerys." Viserys whispered into his sister's ear as he spoke. Squeezing her shoulder, he directed her head to the sights below.
Essos.. She had lived here for quite some time-
But there was a darkness to the world, a cruelty in the air. Viserys said that it was the lasting affliction of those that carried the conqueror's blood, a curse levied upon their people by the last Ghiscari Empress.
Viserys had told Daenerys this story many times... however, here, outside the comforts of Pentos, Daenerys felt as if she could feel it. The screams of a dead civilization clawed at her skin, filled her mind with quiet dread. It seemed Viserys was agitated by it too- though he tried his best to keep a kind demeanor.
"These merchants. Their slaves. The warlords, all of them. They toil for nothing but dust and blood, sister." Viserys said. He turned Daenerys around, hurriedly. Her eyes widened, and she saw that Viserys was smiling. It... it had been a long time since she had seen him smile. She hated that she began to smile too.
"We are worth more than them. Worth more than those barking beasts. This world detests us because we remind it what once was." Viserys' breathing quickened as he released Daenerys.
He turned to the viewport again, and Daenerys watched him lean out of it, sun shining upon his white hair.
"We have gone through so much, sister. Soon.. it will be at an end. Because of you." Viserys said quietly.
He bowed his head- then, Daenerys' eyebrows furrowed in concern when Viserys' shoulders slumped inward.
He spoke, but his voice was now quieter, almost defeated.
"Will you marry him, Daenerys? This plan.. It can only work with you. I.. I am nothing, sister."
Daenerys thought of how many times Viserys had protected her, how many times he had ensured she was not corralled by Illyrio's whims, how many nights he had kept awake, enthralling her with stories of their family's legacy when she could not sleep.
Daenerys had a duty to protect Viserys now- had a duty to him just as they both bore responsibility for the revival of their House.
"I will marry him." Daenerys said softly.
"I won't let any harm come to you." Viserys said, approaching her.
He lifted her chin, softly, with his two hands. He kissed her forehead delicately.
Viserys backed away, smiling.
Viserys' eyes lingered on her for a moment longer, and then he turned away, leaving her to a simple room with tongueless servants.
Essos.
It was her people's homeworld, but the land that they had once ruled was shrouded in darkness and flame. The Akaeyren empire continued despite the doom, bringing various Valaryian houses with them during their exodus from Essos.
The Targaryens were amongst those very houses, and had even overthrew the Akaeyrens and ruled as Emperors upon Westeros.
That knowledge filled her with strength. She would survive, the capacity to was within her blood.
Daenerys looked out of the nearby window, watching as brown ships painted with white scribbles flew about the higher stories of Illyrio's abode. Wind blew into her room, causing her silver hair to run behind her, flying brilliantly as the sun shone between the sharp contours of a descending barge.
"Those of the Dragon." Daenerys said to herself, curling her small fists. Viserys had told her the motto of their House, a motto that Daenerys found herself saying with conviction for the first time.
"Fire and Blood."
