DAENERYS II

According to legend, the Dothraki were lords of the basilisk and arrow. Daenerys could see now that neither was true.

Daenerys frowned, stepping backwards.

She felt her heartbeat quicken, almost as if in concert with the rumbling that traveled from the rocky ground to her legs.

Dust swirled in the air as Khal Dragan's khalasar swept upon Illyrio's abode.

She had expected a tribe of savages, thick legs resting on wild, scaled basilisks tugging at brown dirt, while their rider's fingers twiddled at strung bows.

What she saw-

Was vastly different.

The Dothraki rode old machines that hovered over the ground, kicking up brown gusts due to the cushion of air that kept them above sands. They had crafts of various makes and designs, not one universal standard, which led Daenerys to assume that the Dothraki did not build their own vehicles- rather they stole what they could from those weaker than they.

The Dothraki themselves were a queer folk- heads swiveled as eyes hidden by wide goggles took in their surroundings.

They were sparsely covered, though some wore cooling units strapped to tunic garbed backs.

The nobles amongst them?

Daenerys wasn't sure.

She felt herself leaning forward.

Dany saw that some of the Dothraki allowed their hair to be seen by the sun, red and blonde, dyed by the unforgiving rays that battered this portion of Essos.

They were armed- Dany saw that well enough too. Rifles were swathed in cloth, the flimsy fabric holding together weapons that seemed older than herself. Some Dothraki still armed themselves with bows- But they were of metal and electricity, rather than wood and string. Some carried swords that were lined with chain links, a Westerosi convention that had reached this world some time ago.

These Dothraki.. They were strange, that was clear enough. Daenerys-

She had never seen anything quite like them. A tinge of excitement tugged at her heart then- a feeling that for some reason, she felt ashamed for.

I'm to become one of these people, aren't I? There is no shame in fulfilling our goal.

Daenerys nodded forward, her eyes widening with fear and interest.

As the young girl saw the Dothraki funnel before her and the others, she could only ask herself one thing.

Where is this Khal Dragan?

And more importantly-

Where is Khalan Drogo?

At the moment of this very thought, Daenerys felt a twinge of annoyance from her brother.

Viserys vocalized this annoyance in the next second-

A hissing sigh erupted from his dried, pouty lips, and Daenerys instinctively swung to check the expression worn on his face.

Her heart sank.

He was scowling, his purple eyes hazy with anger. Viserys wore his hair back in a ponytail, revealing resplendent features, pale skin untouched by the sun that struck upon high cheekbones and a comely jaw.

"Is he not here? Are they not here? This is an insult to us." Visery pressured, his voice ringing.

Daenerys shuddered at the tone.

Illyrio himself floated beside Viserys, his grossly formed body wriggling in a pod that could barely contain his fat.

"Patience, my prince. They will be here." Illyrio said with confidence.

"Oselikai khalasars never present the Khal first- especially not for situations like this. The Khal... he would only lead during a war treatise. This.. is not one of those times." Illyrio added with a grin, Daenerys glancing over to the man just in time to catch his yellowing, blocky teeth.

"In regard to Khalan Drogo..." Illyrio continued-

Daenerys cautiously looking amongst the mounting swarm of Dothraki.

"I see him- he is far from the front, though not kept to the vanguard. He is fully covered, as is... Oselikai custom." The merchant coughed.

Daenerys turned to look at Illyrio as she absorbed his informative words, noticing with disgust how much Illyrio was sweating, how he subtly pressed buttons upon a console being held by a slave beside him.

Daenerys discerned quickly that each button press seemed to direct Illyrio's slave army- men in bronze colored armor that left not one shade of skin exposed, holding rifles that doubled as a pike. The legion took up subdued defensive positions, though they were careful not to make any overtly aggressive movement.

Unsullied.

"They... they are savages! You had told me of a great army- they have no artillery. No ships... unless you suspect they will conjure what we need from the mud crusted huts they've been hastened from?" Viserys' eyebrows furrowed.

Illyrio smiled, the fat of his face folding.

"Every one of these Oselikai are worth more than ten of your westerosi knights. What they lack in armor and weaponry they make up in skill, speed, and brutality. Any army found on that backwater planet would pale in comparison to the Two Thousand Basilisks."

Viserys scoffed.

"And where are these beasts? Their riders? You sai-"

Illyrio interrupted Viserys-

Daenerys' saw her brother's eyes flare in anger, though he allowed their host to continue.

"They are with the Khal; they never leave him. Now... pay attention. You can't tell, but they've started praying, the Oselikai." Illyrio stated.

Daenerys felt her throat tighten.

Daenerys narrowed her eyes, focusing on the slight murmurs of movement in the sea of warriors. In the distance, between puffs of hazy smoke, she could tell the assembly of tribesmen were beginning to part in two.

The Dothraki muttered amongst themselves in a strange tongue, one that Dany had never heard before. Their voices were distorted by the bandages they wore over their mouths, and some even had mechanical apparatuses covering their faces, which was no doubt some type of cooling agent. Regardless, they too had strange voices- their words garbled by electronic interference.

Illyrio's personal fleet loomed high above in the air, and Daenerys noticed that the large cannons attached to the stern of the crafts were aiming down at the Dothraki.

Smaller single-pilot fighters made frequent fly-bys, zipping across the sky in high-pitched tones.

"Ah," Illyrio sighed with some relief.

Daenerys' heart quickened, looking within the crowd of Dothraki once more.

Viserys tensed, and laid a hand on her-

she shuddered away from him. Viserys held her tighter.

He inhaled deeply, just as Daenerys' eyes met those of the Prince, he who rode betwixt chanting Dothraki.

Khalan Drogo.

He was... of middling size, Daenerys could tell that right away. He..bore wide shoulders, though he was garbed in a bright blue shawl. A jeweled veil sparkled in the light of the sun, clasped so that it obscured Khalan Drogo's face. His hair was twisted into two braids, each one dotted with diamonds. His eyes were dark, almost black, and his braided locks were of similar color, a rarity amongst the people he rode amongst.

Unlike his followers, he rode a horse, black as night yet as bright as the moon. On his shoulder, a fearsome mask dangled, a red-and-black vizor that looked like it was ripped from the face of a demon.

Strange horns curved from the mouth of the mask, long and deadly.

Khalan Drogo rode closer, entirely silent as the chants of the Dothraki died down.

Illyrio's courtyard was now filled with Dothraki, Khalan Drogo at the head of the horde. He carried no weapons.

"He's just a boy," Daenerys whispered.

"Yes. He is close to you in age." Illyrio replied.

Khalan Drogo led his horse to the front of beige steps that led to the entrance of Illyrio's mansion, where Viserys, Daenerys, and Illyrio himself waited. Illyrio bobbed forward, and as he did two Unsullied took up flank with him.

Acompanied by silent guards, Illyrio's pod beeped as it hovered towards Khalan Drogo.

The boy looked at Illyrio with such disdain Daenerys felt that the Khalan would kill Illyrio where he floated.

They exchanged words in the guttural tongue of the Dothraki. They spoke for some time, and Daenerys fidgeted, causing the shells on her wrists to slightly sound as they touched each other.

"Be still." Viserys snapped, and she complied, her heart thumping behind her small chest.

Finally, Illyrio moved aside, and Khalan Drogo gazed at Daenerys from atop his horse. The wind picked up, causing his diamonds to ring as strands of stray black hair ran across his veil.

Daenerys-

She didn't smile, she didn't bow. Frozen with fear, all she could do was return the look.

Finally, Khalan Drogo reared the warhorse, and rode from Illyrio's home. The horde followed, singing as their machines vomited black smoke.

As the last Dothraki warmachine sputtered from view, Viserys grabbed Daenerys, swinging her around.

"You failed." He snarled, his handsome face white with anger. He was about berate her further-

"No. Khalan Drogo approved of her. They will be married shortly." Illyrio informed happily-

Daenerys dare not comment on it before Viserys, but she almost laughed at the palpable relief that nearly swam from Illyrio.

Viserys quickly released his grip on Daenerys .

"Then we will make our way to Westeros." He said, beaming. "Then I can retake my throne."

Illyrio smiled, his shifting eyes betrayed his jovial attitude.

"Of course my prince. All that was once yours will be yours again."

Viserys grabbed hold of Daenery's hand, holding it tightly as the ships that loomed above them slowly dispersed.

"Fire and Blood, Sister." He said softly.

She nodded.

Daenerys shook, and when Viserys looked at her quizzically, she smiled. He took this properly, and pulled her closer.

Fire and blood.

NEXT CHAPTER: ROBERT I