297 AC - In Meereen:
Nearly three years have passed since Anakin Targaryen became King of Meereen, and soon after added Yunkai to his empire.
The Great Masters of Meereen ceased their resistance, acknowledging the remarkable advancements in the city. Despite this, he still harbored ambitions to abolish the Masters' influence entirely, requiring him to ascend beyond the title of king.
Meanwhile, the precarious truce with the slaver states in the region persisted. Recognizing its imminent collapse, Anakin prepared for the inevitable conflict that lay ahead.
Presently, a man strides into the grand audience chamber, he is a simple shepherd, tasked with caring for a herd of sheep. His nervousness is palpable as he approaches, apologizing for his inability to speak the common language, but Anakin pays it no mind, as he can understand him well.
The man is visibly agitated as he tells Anakin about a terrible incident that occurred just beyond the city borders. Slavers, using ruthless soldiers, attacked his land and even kidnapped his beloved three-year-old daughter, Zalla.
Anakin realizes that this act is part of the slaver state's hidden agenda to weaken the city and replenish their own diminishing population in Astapor.
Filled with righteous anger, he arranges a private meeting with Grey-Worm, Missandei, and Drazho that evening to discuss the specifics of Zalla's abduction.
Drazho, the new commander of the City-Watch since Lucas' departure, reveals that strange soldiers were seen near the Black Cliffs three days earlier but have now vanished without a trace.
Drazho exudes masculinity with his chiseled features. His angular jawline and prominent cheekbones create a rugged profile. A hint of stubble accentuates his strong countenance. His deep brown eyes, often hailed as intense and soulful, speak volumes with their expressive gaze. Neatly styled, tousled locks of dark brown hair frame his face. Standing at a height of around 5 foot 9, his fit and athletic physique boasts a lean and muscular frame. A distinctive characteristic lies in the subtle asymmetry of his mouth, a faint quirk resulting from a partially paralyzed nerve, giving him a unique and memorable smile. (Milo Ventimiglia)
Anakin realizing that their peace treaty with the slavers is on the verge of disintegration informs his companions that they need to double their military strength, which would mean acquiring at least an additional 10,000 men. Lucas questions if this is even possible, but Anakin insists they have no choice.
Their discussion is interrupted by a Meereenese guard knocking on the door of Anakin's chambers, announcing that a woman has arrived and is requesting an audience with his majesty.
"I'm not taking any more petitions today. Tell her she can come back tomorrow," Anakin informed the guard, presuming the woman had come for a purpose similar to that of the shepherd from earlier.
"The woman hails not from Meereen. She purports to bring news from Volantis. A Red Priestess," the guard discloses.
The council members exchange skeptical looks, wondering why such a person would be here. Anakin, despite his revered status, has little interest in the various religions of society and believes in religious liberty and avoiding imposing his own beliefs onto others. In his words: the Force is a guide, not a deity.
As Drazho and Grey Worm departed, Anakin and Missandei descended to the audience chamber.
Upon entering they stand above the room, near the throne, while a man and woman stand at the base of the steps leading up to said throne.
It is clear that the woman is the Red Priestess they were informed of - evident in her lustrous long dark hair, dressed in crimson and gold garments, and adorned with various ornamental pieces. At a height of 5 foot 1, her figure exudes grace and slenderness, which she carries with refined poise. Her fair complexion radiates a natural dewy sheen, while her piercing pale-blue eyes and focused gaze exude a formidable sense of unwavering faith and spiritual authority. (Ania Bukstein)
"You stand in the presence of Kinvara, High Priestess of the Red Temple of Volantis, the Flame of Truth, the Light of Wisdom, the First Servant of the Lord of Light," the man next to her introduces, proclaiming her various titles.
He then steps aside, and Missandei takes the opportunity to introduce Anakin. She introduces him as, 'King of Meereen, Anakin Targaryen, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, The Breaker of Chains, and The Chosen One,' with a hint of rivalry in her tone.
As Kinvara begins to ascend the stairs, Anakin descends to meet her. "Welcome to Meereen. I've heard so-" however, his words are abruptly halted as both of them freeze in their movements. He is suddenly overcome by an unfamiliar presence.
As she reached the middle plateau, Kinvara suddenly came to another halt, causing Anakin to pause and gather his thoughts. Upon catching sight of her, he realized that whatever he had sensed through the Force, she had experienced it as well.
"You felt it too," Kinvara stated.
Anakin descended the remaining steps towards the plateau and came face to face with her. However, before he could speak, she interrupted him, proclaiming, "It is you. You are the one. The one who was promised. From the fire he was reborn to remake the world. He has freed the slaves from their chains and crucified the Masters for their sins. His power is fire made flesh, a gift from the Lord of Light. You have been sent to lead the people against the darkness in this war and in the great war still to come."
Anakin confessed, "The Lord of Light? Can't say I'm on good terms with that aspect," unaware of the Red Priestess's beliefs and assuming she was referring to something similar to the light side of the Force.
"Yet. The darkness has not consumed you yet," she replied. Her words hit too close to home and Anakin decided to skip past the word-play she appears to be up to.
"Why are you here?" he demanded.
"For the same reason you are. It is the Lord of Light's will that I find you. I have seen you in my flames, and I have come to fulfill your deepest… desire," Kinvara purred, sensually moving towards Anakin and touching his arm.
"I desire nothing from you. That is unless you plan on opening the gates of Volantis to my armies," he declared, removing her hand from his arm, unmoved by her suggestions.
"Men never crave what they already have. But what of what you don't have? Say… your family," she revealed, earning a menacing glare from Anakin.
"What do you know of my family?" he inquired, attention now fully focused on the woman in front of him.
"Have you heard of 'The Beggar King'?" she asked.
"No. Should I?" Anakin questioned.
"Why I suppose you should. It is what they call your Uncle after all," Kinvara says, noticing the Targaryen's sudden spark of interest.
"You know Viserys?" he asks.
"Perhaps we should speak in private?" she suggests, glancing at Missandei and the Unsullied soldiers standing sentinel around them.
Despite his hesitation, Anakin reluctantly dismisses Missandei and the Unsullied, agreeing to meet with Kinvara in his private chamber to learn more about what she knew about Viserys.
Come dusk, Kinvara instructs her guard to wait outside as she enters the king's chambers and closes the door behind her.
Anakin directs her towards a small table by the balcony and offers her a drink. Kinvara gracefully accepts, but notices that Anakin does not pour any wine for himself. "You won't drink?" she asks.
"No, thank you. Awful stuff," Anakin refuses with a polite yet disdainful tone. In all his years, Anakin has never indulged in wine, at least not on purpose. He explains that he sees alcohol as a vice, on par with other destructive behaviors, such as whores and gambling.
Kinvara laughs at his abstemious nature, but Anakin gets straight to the point. "Look, I don't know you. I don't know your religion and quite frankly I'm not all that interested in your allegiances. You're here because you said you knew something about my uncle Viserys. Now, would you care to enlighten me?"
The Red Priestess proceeds to reveal all the information she knows about the Targaryen siblings.
He discovers that his own Uncle Viserys has been tirelessly gathering an army to assist him in his quest to conquer Westeros. Anakin is taken aback. As the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, this revelation confuses him. However, Kinvara discloses that Viserys has proclaimed him dead, negligent of his existence. Despite Anakin's incredible feats and achievements in Meereen, his uncle dismisses them as falsehoods of an imposter. Viserys remains ignorant of the supposed sorcery, it all adding to the misunderstanding. Now, believing him to be deceased, Viserys plans to march towards King's Landing with his own army.
"That's why they call him 'The Beggar King' you see," Kinvara explains.
"I don't believe you," Anakin is skeptical and refuses to believe that Viserys would usurp him, or that the Red Priestess is telling the truth.
However, she urges him to read her thoughts, her demeanor now grave as she leans in closer. "Look into my mind. I have nothing to gain and everything to lose by being here. The Triarch's would denounce our faith and declare us traitors," she confesses, revealing all her truths.
Acting upon her instructions, Anakin stares into Kinvara's eyes and detects no deceit. But he does experience something, a sensation they both seem to share since they met earlier. 'This must be the mystical power that Red Priestesses are said to possess,' Anakin deduces. He has never met anyone with supernatural abilities other than himself. While he's heard of the Warlocks in Qarth and their sorcery, he's yet to meet them.
The Red Priestess's arrival not only piqued the king's interest, but also brought information he had long sought after. Despite his attempts to keep the search for his family private, she sought him out, already aware of his search. One certainty etched itself into Anakin's thoughts: her presence here was no coincidence, something had brought her to him.
Anxious to know their exact location, Anakin eagerly asks, "Where?"
"Pentos," Kinvara plainly responded.
He clarifies that he cannot abandon his duties and embark on a prolonged journey. The Red Priestess insists that she has seen terrible things befall his kin in her flames if he does not go to Pentos.
Anakin's expression turns grim at the mention of Daenerys. "I can't," he hesitantly admits.
"I know you can't," Kinvara replied. "That is why I am here. I came to help. You are worshiped and obeyed. And while you are gone you want your advisors to be worshiped and obeyed."
"I'll settle for just obeyed," he interjects.
She suggests a plan to protect Meereen and Yunkai during his absence by enlisting her priests to spread a warning to Slaver's Bay and Volantis. She also proposes that his advisors be treated as his representatives while he travels to Pentos with a portion of his army.
"Why? Why go through all this trouble just to reunite me with my kin?" Anakin questions her motives, but Kinvara declares, "Because you are the one. The one who was promised. It is the Lord of Lights' will that has brought me to you. The lord's chosen one, Azor Ahai." Her zealousness and faith in her religion became very apparent to Anakin.
"So I've heard," he replies with a lackluster tone, growing weary of the constant praise and title of 'The Chosen One'.
"You will find far more than just your kin in Pentos," she continues. "There you will find the army you will lead against the darkness in this war and in the great war still to come."
Anakin's interest is sparked, wondering what other surprises could await him in Pentos. But before he can inquire further, she cryptically states that he will find out once he arrives.
Moving on from the topic, the pair stood from their seats and faced each other near the balcony entrance. The chilling breeze of the night tousles their hair, and tends to the fire crackling in the distant corner of the chamber.
Anakin musters the courage to ask the burning question, "Can I trust you?" He knows that no matter her response, he will go to Pentos and possibly sacrifice everything for the chance to see his family again.
Kinvara silently closes the distance between them, looking up at Anakin's towering frame without a word. "What does the Lord of Light tell you?" she asks, and Anakin reaches out with the force.
To his surprise, the force only reveals a hazy vision, neither light nor dark. As he delves deeper, he realizes that his inner turmoil is clouding his perception, driven by a surge of carnal desire.
Suddenly, Kinvara's lips meet his own. For the first time in a long time, Anakin was experiencing something not familiar - not the kiss, but a longing for a woman that exceeded friendship. He wonders if Qezza experienced similar emotions when she had impulsively kissed him almost a year ago.
As the two of them engage in an intense kiss, they embrace and he gently lowers his hands to her waist. However, just when things seem to be heating up, he suddenly breaks away, displaying a hint of reluctance to take things any further.
"I… I don't love you," he confessed, locking eyes with her. But as she reached up to cup his face in her hands, Kinvara spoke words that challenged his self-restraint, urging him to embrace his true desires.
"What we want does not align with love. Your self-restraint is hindering you, yet you've already gone so far. Embrace what everybody already assumes you are. Be the in-" she trailed off, a mad intensity in her gaze as she spoke the name, "Vader."
Without warning, Anakin's head was ensnared in her tight grip as she pressed her lips to his once again, this time with a fierce hunger, thrusting her tongue into his mouth erratically.
In that moment, his hesitation dissipated as he seized her hair with one hand, pulling it down to expose her neck, and began to shower her skin with passionate kisses. In response, Kinvara pressed herself against him, feeling the evidence of his arousal against her belly.
In a rapid flurry, they reached the bed, casting aside their clothes hungrily as their lips remained locked. Her eyes were ablaze with desire as she straddled him, slowly guiding him deep inside her. The warmth and wetness of her intimate parts enveloped him, igniting a fire within as he grew harder and larger, aching for release. Her hips began to sway in a gentle, hypnotic rhythm, pulling him closer as he felt her urging him on. In that moment, with a wild abandon, he released his seed deep inside her, as she scratched at his scarred back, lost in her own ecstasy. The sensation of her eagerly receiving his warm seed only fueled his passion further.
As they lay breathless and satiated, she admired his passionate nature, realizing it extended beyond violence and murder. She tenderly ran her fingers through his hair, while he rested his face against her chest.
Although he sensed, and was slightly disappointed, that the Red Priestess had managed to seduce him, Anakin felt no regret, trusting her words about his family. He saw the zealousness in her eyes and was convinced that she was truly determined to aid him.
The next morning, Anakin awoke to find Kinvara gone, leaving behind a concise message on her vacant spot. The note simply read: 'Do not hesitate. Show no mercy.' He understood her words completely. His journey to Pentos, with his battalion of Unsullied will be perilous. And to achieve his goals, there could be no room for hesitation or doubt.
He stirred from his sleep, preparing to begin his day when Missandei suddenly barged into his room with a tray of food and drinks. She set the tray on the small table and crossed the room to open the balcony door, letting the sunlight stream in.
Anakin couldn't help but comment, "Sheesh, don't you knock?" as he put on a pair of trousers and a white tunic.
Missandei remained silent, observing the nude king get dressed, clearly annoyed. She was no stranger to the Targaryens' propensity for exhibitionism, having become acclimated to it long ago.
Though not always in tune with his own emotions, Anakin could sense her clear irritation through the force. Standing tall, he met her gaze and said, "You don't approve."
She replied with a hint of irritation, "It doesn't matter what I approve of or not. You are king."
Concerned that his authority may be turning oppressive, he reminded her, "You're not my slave Missandei."
Nevertheless, she locked eyes with him and spoke her mind, "That woman is seducing you."
Unwavering, Anakin responded, "Yes. But she's not lying to me." He had chosen to put his trust in the Red Priestess, despite his advisors disapproval.
The two engaged in a brief argument about the wisdom of his upcoming absence in the midst of their current struggles. Anakin reassured Missandei that Kinvara would delay any potential attacks from the slaver states and help with governing the city during his absence.
Placing his hand on her shoulder, he spoke in a calming tone, "I trust you, more than you know."
"You're putting a lot of faith into this woman. But I trust you too. Find them. Find your family," Missandei accepts Anakin's unspoken request to rule Meereen, along with Qezza, and Drazho while he is away.
"Oh wait," Anakin said, halting her at the doorway. "Please don't tell Qezza," he urges her to keep his encounter with the Red Priestess a secret from his friend. However, she only smirked in response, her silence a pointed refusal as she walked away.
In the month before his departure to Pentos, Anakin, shadowed by Unsullied guards, navigated the burgeoning metropolis of Meereen, the sun dipping behind its horizon as he approached the Temple of the Graces, traversed by streets recently built.
Despite his meticulous attention to detail, the construction of the light posts around the city he commissioned had significantly fallen behind schedule, highlighting the challenges in realizing his complex inventions even for the most skilled of artisans. However, the roads were impeccably maintained, and the meandering walkways showcased an intricate pattern of hexagonal pavers in light and medium gray concrete. To enhance the landscaping, concrete retaining walls harmonized with the walkway's design, offering ample seating amidst the surrounding greenery.
Arriving at the temple, his mind was filled with the weight of responsibility, knowing that his impending departure from the city would leave a void that needed to be filled with stability and assurance.
Entering the temple, Anakin was greeted by the serene presence of Galazza Galare, the revered Green Grace. From the podium, she stood gracefully before him, her emerald robes flowing like a tranquil river.
"Your Grace," Galazza began, her voice a soft melody in the sacred space as she approached him. "It is my understanding you wish to depart soon."
Anakin squinted his eyes in curiosity, he had only informed those in his small council of his departure, making him suspicious as to how the Priestess could have gained this information. "Well if you know that much then you must know what I'm going to ask of you."
The Green Grace inclined her head respectfully. "I have no sway over the Great Masters, let alone since we've proclaimed you king. But perhaps there is a solution."
Anakin rubbed his chin, reminiscing about the Great Masters' displeasure following the priestess's proclamation. Those who had fled during his rise to power had sought refuge in cities such as Volantis and had formed the Sons of the Harpy. Meanwhile, those who remained in the city had been pleasantly surprised by the enhancements to their surroundings and improvement in quality of life. However, it was undeniable that the exiled masters still held sway over their counterparts, whether through the influence of wealth or familial ties.
"What kind of solution," Anakin inquired.
Galazza deliberated for a moment, considering his potential reaction before suggesting, "Marry, Your Grace. Wed a woman and make her Queen of Meereen. Let her rule in your stead, and put to rest the concern of the Great Masters, all in one fail swoop."
Anakin frowned dubiously. The idea of marriage for political purposes was not unfamiliar to him, but the prospect of entrusting someone else with the governance of Meereen was a daunting task. "Who would you suggest?" he asked hesitantly.
Galazza met his gaze with unwavering assurance. "Whoever you may have. One you trust. One you love. Though it is best she be a woman of noble birth, beloved and respected by the people," she clarified, leaving Anakin to ponder her words.
"Awfully specific. Why don't you just say it," Anakin pressed, already knowing who the High Priestess had in mind.
"It seems you already know," she replied.
"And I suppose you're completely unbiased in this suggestion," he questioned her, his tone laced with skepticism.
"Did you have anyone else in mind," the priestess asked, knowing the answer was no.
The thought of marrying for the sake of stability tugged at his conscience, yet he understood the benefits of such a union. "I will… consider this," he conceded, his decision yet uncertain.
A faint smile graced Galazza's lips, a subtle expression of satisfaction. "You have written your name in the history of Meereen, whether you meant to or not, Your Grace. A union will ensure the continuity of your legacy here."
As Anakin made his way back to the Great Pyramid, his thoughts were filled with a mixture of resolve and apprehension. He could think of no one he trusted enough to make queen, except for one: Qezza.
Marrying Qezza however extended beyond political maneuvers. Personal implications stirred within him, bringing uncertainty. She had kissed him and hinted at her feelings long ago, leaving Anakin conflicted. He hesitated to manipulate her emotions in such a way. Yet, for the greater good of Meereen, he resolved to sacrifice their friendship.
Venturing into the Great Pyramid, he encountered one of Qezza's handmaidens. He requested her assistance in locating Qezza, as he needed to discuss a matter with her in the council chambers. The young girl, taken aback by the king's direct approach, hastened to fulfill his request. She found his deep, brooding voice metrical.
It wasn't long before Qezza arrived in his chambers, where she found him stirring a goblet of wine. "Tough night? Never took you for a drinker," she said, pointing at his drink.
"Been trying new things… many new things," he replied with an enigmatic grin.
"What's wrong?" inquired Qezza, sensing his unspoken thoughts.
Anakin invited her to sit, his serious demeanor evident. "I'm going to tell you a few things and you're going to listen to me," he began, recounting his conversation with Galazza as she took a seat.
As he concluded his story, a tense silence filled the room. Qezza broke the silence by pouring herself a goblet of wine and downing it in one gulp. "I'll do it," she declared, meeting Anakin's gaze.
"You don't have to if you don't want-" he tried to dissuade her, but she insisted, "I want this."
Reaching across the table, Anakin placed a comforting hand on hers, acknowledging her support. "Qezza…" he began to explain that their marriage wouldn't be as traditional as she might expect, but she cut him off again.
"I know," she said confidently. "I understand." Her eyes twinkled as she added, "Besides, I'd get to be Queen."
Laughter filled the air as they exchanged glances, their hands entwined tightly. For a fleeting moment, his heart fluttered. In that instant, he realized how deeply he cherished her presence. During all the years, even before his reign over Meereen, Qezza had been the greatest blessing he had encountered. A profound sense of gratitude washed over him as he recognized the unwavering support and love that she offered him.
Weeks later, the Temple of the Graces glowed with a soft, flickering light from countless candles, casting an ethereal ambiance over the sacred space.
King Anakin Targaryen stood at the altar, his expression a mix of determination and contemplation as he prepared to marry Qezza zo Galare.
She wore a primarily white dress, symbolizing purity and celebration, adorned with intricate gold embroidery and beading. The design is regal yet graceful, featuring a fitted bodice that flares out into a flowing skirt. The dress is embellished with gold accents that reflect her noble status, including intricate patterns inspired by Meereenese art and architecture. The sleeves are sheer and delicately embroidered, adding a touch of sophistication.
Anakin, adorned in the customary attire of House Targaryen, sported an all-black ensemble complemented by a wine-red cape. A brown strap secured the cape and showcased a silver crest depicting the three-headed dragon of his house.
The Green Grace, Galazza Galare, presided over the ceremony with a commanding presence and spoke with solemnity as she invoked the blessings of the gods.
As the vows were exchanged, the gathered witnesses - including Great Masters, whom Anakin sought to appease through this marriage - felt a sense of solemnity settle over them. Anakin's loyal advisors and collaborators in governing Meereen were also in attendance along with Qezza's mother and brother, who had come to respect and even accept Anakin over the years after initially seeing him as responsible for their father's death.
Outside the temple, life in Meereen continued on, aware of the momentous event taking place within its sacred walls. As they emerged from the temple hand in hand, he felt the strange feeling of having a partner by his side.
Under the opulent glow of the flickering braziers, the Great Pyramid of Meereen stood adorned with silks of deep crimson and shimmering gold. The grand hall, usually a place of solemn governance and deliberation, had been transformed into a scene of unparalleled festivity. Musicians strummed lutes and harps, their melodies weaving through the air as servants bustled about with trays of exotic delicacies and goblets filled with the finest wines from the far reaches of the known world.
King Anakin, resplendent in his regal attire, sat at the center of the hall at a long dining table, his silver hair glinting under the torchlight. Beside him, Qezza zo Galare, his now wife, at title he would have to get used to calling her by.
Familiar faces filled the hall, each possessing their own presence to the celebration. Grey-Worm, standing sentinel, his solemn demeanor softened by a rare smile that played upon his lips as Missandei, her curly hair a beacon among the crowd, conversed with him. From Yunkai, Lucas and Daario Naharis wit and charm made for a duo that kept those around them in fits of laughter.
Formalities began with the exchange of gifts, each offering presented with great pomp and ceremony.
Reznak mo Reznak, the Seneschal of Meereen, stepped forward first, presenting a tome bound in dragon leather, filled with the ancient histories of Old Valyria. "For knowledge is the greatest gift one can bestow," he declared, bowing deeply.
Next came Azzak zo Ghazeen, a Great Master, bearing a beautifully crafted dagger. "May it protect you both in times of peril," he said, his voice gruff yet warm. The blade, forged from pure diamonds, was a symbol of the strength and unity of their house.
As the gifts kept coming, Qezza couldn't help but notice Anakin's frequent trips to the wine during the evening's festivities. He seemed to be consuming an alarming amount, his discomfort with the attention on him prompting him to refill his goblet again and again. It was clear he'd embraced the Red Priestess's advice and was letting go of his usual restraint. Qezza found this sudden change in behavior baffling. She had always known Anakin to be very self-disciplined, and so she simply assumed he wasn't accustomed to the festivities.
The gift Hizdahr zo Loraq presented was the most captivating Anakin had received this evening. From across the room, Hizdahr approached with a majestic dragon egg, its surface gleaming with iridescent hues. "Though the years have turned them to stone, they are a symbol of your shared blood and legacy," he said, placing it gently into Qezza's hands. The crowd gasped in awe, recognizing the immense value and significance of such a gift.
Despite its intriguing nature, Anakin sensed no life within the egg, confirming Hizdahr's claim that time had hardened its contents to stone.
The revelry in the Great Pyramid of Meereen showed no signs of waning, the music and laughter resonating through its ancient stone halls. Anakin, having partaken generously in the festivities, found himself leaning heavily on his bride.
Qezza's steps were sure and steady, her eyes meeting those of their guests with warmth and gratitude as they made their way through the throng. Anakin, tipsy from the large amounts of wine, offered slurred thanks and lopsided smiles, his regal composure softened by the night's indulgences as Qezza led him out.
Finally, they reached the sanctuary of their private chamber. The heavy door creaked open, and Anakin stumbled inside, his steps unsteady.
The grand bed, adorned with silken sheets and plush pillows, beckoned him. With a weary sigh, he collapsed onto it, his limbs sprawling out in a graceless heap. Qezza crossed the room and opened the balcony door. A refreshing breeze swept in, carrying with it the scents of the night - jasmine, sea salt, and the faintest hint of smoke from distant fireworks.
Anakin stirred, the cool air rousing him from his stupor. He pushed himself up on one elbow, his gaze drawn to the figure standing on the balcony. Qezza, illuminated by the silvery light of the full moon, seemed almost otherworldly. Her wedding dress shimmered, each thread catching the moonlight and reflecting it in a myriad of directions. She stood poised and serene, her eyes fixed on the horizon where the dark waters of Slaver's Bay met the star-strewn sky.
Captivated by the sight of her, Anakin rose unsteadily to his feet, his heart swelling with an emotion that transcended the effects of the wine. He moved towards her, his steps faltering but his resolve firm. The cool stone of the balcony floor met his bare feet as he joined her on the balcony, the night air invigorating his senses.
"Qezza…" he murmured, his voice thick with awe. She turned to face him, her eyes soft and luminous in the moonlight. He reached out, his hand trembling slightly, and she took it, her touch grounding him.
"I thought you hated wine. What's with the change?" she asked, her voice a gentle melody in the quiet night.
"Like I said… trying new things," he replied, his words earnest and unguarded. He stepped closer, pulling her into his embrace. Anakin pressed a tender kiss to Qezza's temple, his heart brimming with gratitude. "Thank you… for this," he whispered.
"How long will you be gone?" she asks, her voice a soft echo of his sentiments.
Anakin's mind, even muddled by drink, worked swiftly. "Probably… half a year… at most," he slurred, his words thick with alcohol. Qezza's expression fell as she was reminded of the extent of Anakin's upcoming travels.
"Hey," Qezza began, her voice soft yet determined.
He regarded her with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension as she drew closer. "Yes?"
She approached Anakin, her lips parting in anticipation. He leaned in to kiss her, a stark contrast to their last, awkward encounter. Anakin's hand, warm on her cheek, stilled her, the air thick with unspoken emotions. His gaze was fixed on the ground, the unspoken words and desires that hung between them a heavy weight.
He met her gaze before whispering, "We don't have to," echoing their arranged marriage agreement.
She took a step, drawing him back towards the chambers through the balcony doors, his hand still clasped in hers.
Inside, she met his gaze, her lips finding him again, a fire in her eyes. "I want to," she declared, her voice a plea for something more. Her response was soft but firm, a declaration of her own wants and needs.
Anakin hesitated, his mind racing with conflicting thoughts and emotions. He hadn't expected this from Qezza - this sudden yearning to bridge the gap between them, to find solace in each other's arms.
He couldn't resist the pull of her gaze, seeing the vulnerability and sincerity hidden beneath her composed exterior. He kissed her temple once more before sealing his lips over hers, their passion igniting like never before. As the kiss deepened, his hands roamed over her body, trying to reach under her dress without taking it off completely. They explored each other's bodies with fervent urgency.
"Please," she moaned against his lips as he lifted her off her feet, pressing her body against his.
With one swift move, he carried her over to the bed without breaking their kiss. His fingers fumbled with the laces on her waistline as they fell onto the sheets together, finally giving in to their desires.
As Anakin slowly began to undo Qezza's dress and caress every inch of her exposed skin, she straddled him. Her hair cascaded down her back in loose, dark waves that covered her face, save for her tightly-shut eyes. She handled his member with care, leaving it undisturbed as she teased him with her hair. Frustration gnawed at him as he realized she had no intention of reinitiating the kiss he craved. Her gentle bite on his shoulder became more pronounced as she lowered herself further, her breasts grazing his body. He longed to envelop one of them in his mouth. Her breasts became his tormentors, 'her blunt instruments,' he called them that outloud , eliciting a laugh from her. He thrust into her with renewed vigor, her whimpers of ecstasy fueling his drive. Their climaxes erupted almost simultaneously. As the fire in his loins subsided, she struggled to speak, pleading with him to stop. The realization that she had reached a second climax brought a wave of satisfaction, and they broke away, their bodies trembling in the aftermath.
In the hushed hours of the night, Qezza and Anakin discovered there existed a glimmer of something deeper - an unspoken connection that bound them together in ways they had not anticipated.
It will take approximately three months for Anakin to reach Pentos on his journey, during which he decides to bring 6,000 Unsullied and leaves the rest under Qezza's capable leadership in the city.
After being visited by the Red Priestess, Anakin sets off for Pentos months later, determined to find his kin.
298 AC - In Pentos:
Nestled along the eastern coast of the Bay of Pentos, the bustling port city of Pentos stands as one of the Free Cities of western Essos. Boasting a larger population than Astapor in Slaver's Bay, Pentos holds the distinction of being the closest Free City to King's Landing in Westeros. Situated on the Bay of Pentos off the Narrow Sea, the city is flanked by the Flatlands and Velvet Hills to the east.
Despite its imposing, towering walls, Pentos is often considered the most susceptible of the Free Cities. The cityscape is characterized by numerous square brick towers, with tiled roofs dominating the skyline.
Wealthy Magisters and other affluent individuals reside within walled estates, adding to the city's architectural allure. A striking red temple stands within the city, where red priests are known for their melodic chants and the illumination of their night fires.
The Sunrise Gate serves as the eastern exit, leading towards the Rhoyne. For those seeking the fastest route to Volantis, the sea remains the preferred mode of transportation.
Inside the manse of Illyrio Mopatis, Daenerys Targaryen is positioned on a balcony in the city of Pentos, gazing out over the bay which offers a crystal-clear sight of the Narrow Sea.
Daenerys' most notable feature is her long, platinum blonde hair, often styled in intricate braids or flowing waves. Her amethyst eyes mirror her tumultuous emotions, transitioning seamlessly from fierce resolve to gentle empathy. Her regal features, composed of high cheekbones and a sculpted jawline, convey an air of regality. Despite her petite stature of 5 foot 2, her slender, athletic physique combines grace with an undercurrent of resilience. (Emilia Clarke)
Deep in contemplation, her mind was consumed with thoughts of her brother Viserys' words. It has been almost a year since they arrived in Pentos, seeking refuge with the wealthy Magister Illyrio Mopatis, a loyal supporter of House Targaryen.
She had spent countless hours trying to persuade her brother to journey to Meereen, but he remained stubbornly resistant. Even the news of a new king, Anakin Targaryen, was not enough to sway him. He dismissed the idea of their nephew successfully conquering a city, amassing an army, and liberating slaves instead of just marching on King's Landing, overthrowing the traitor on the Iron Throne.
Ever since they lost Anakin, something within Viserys had shifted. He had transformed into a desperate, foulmouthed, and at times, violent man. Daenerys couldn't help but wonder if he felt more pressure to reclaim the Iron Throne because he believes their nephew to be dead. This thought had ultimately landed them in their current predicament.
"Daenerys!" The voice of Viserys echoes through the spacious bath chamber within the room.
Upon reentering the room from the balcony, she notices her brother approaching her with a white gown in his hands.
Boasting the trademark silver-blond hair of his lineage, Viserys Targaryen's hairstyle exudes regality and accentuates his pride and vanity. His sharp, purple eyes radiate arrogance and a sense of entitlement, while also conveying a blend of ambition and desperation. With a narrow face, prominent cheekbones, and a pointed chin, Viserys' facial expressions oscillate between haughty disdain and moments of vulnerability, reflecting his difficult personality. Standing at 6 feet tall, his slender and elegant physique underscores his reliance on manipulation and deceit rather than physical prowess. (Harry Lloyd)
"Daenerys! There's our bride to be! Look – a gift from Illyrio," Viserys exclaims, brimming with joy as he presents her with the beautiful dress. "Touch it. Come on. Feel the fabric. Mmmm. Isn't he a gracious host?" He mentions the dress is a gift from Illyrio.
"We've been his guests for over a year and he's never asked us for anything," Daenerys expressed confusion over Illyrio's decision to continue welcoming them as guests in his palace.
"Illyrio is no fool. He knows I won't forget my friends when I come into my throne. You still slouch. Here take this," Viserys declared as he presented the gown for her to assess its fit.
Daenerys objected, stating her confusion as to why they couldn't go to Meereen before proceeding with the plan of having her married off in exchange for an army. She remained convinced that this tactic was foolish.
"Careful sister. You don't want to wake the dragon, do you?" Viserys, filled with anger at the mention of his nephew, tries to control his emotions. He has blamed himself for his loss ever since they were separated and doesn't like to be reminded of his failures.
This has been slowly driving him mad since the loss of Anakin. Upon hearing about a Targaryen ruler in Meereen who is fighting for the liberation of slaves and amassing an army, he refuses to accept that this man could be who he claims to be.
"No," Daenerys responds, her voice filled with resignation.
After giving her a simple nod, Viserys heads towards the door of the bath-chamber. Just before he departs, he gazes at her and declares, "When they write the history of my reign, sweet sister, they will say it began today."
Feeling overwhelmed by the thought of being sold off like a broodmare, Daenerys pivots, removing her clothes and entering a bubbling bathtub while wearing an expression of hopelessness.
"It's too hot, my lady," one of the maids nearby remarks, yet she continues to walk further into it.
Hours later, Daenerys, Illyrio, and Viserys stand outside the manse, anticipating the arrival of Khal Drogo, a chieftain of a Dothraki Khalasar.
Drogo, a Khal and warlord of the Dothraki, holds a high position among the renowned nomadic horse-lords in Essos. The Dothraki are fierce combatants, displaying exceptional skills in battle and relentless determination, often exhibiting savagery towards non-Dothraki communities. Though following a harsh and unforgiving code of honor, they too hold a strong sense of loyalty to their own people. Despite his young age, Drogo commands a large Khalasar, an impressive feat. His ultimate desire is to have the most beautiful and exotic woman in the world as his wife and 'Khaleesi'. To aid in finding such a woman, he turned to Magister Illyrio Mopatis of Pentos.
"Where is he?" demands Viserys with impatience in his voice.
"The Dothraki are not known for their punctuality," said Illyrio.
Suddenly a host of Dothraki came riding up. Khal Drogo wheels his stallion into the front.
Walking along the pathway in front of his grand estate, Illyrio approaches them with a warm greeting in the Dothraki tongue, "May I present my honored guests? Viserys of House Targaryen, the third of his name. The rightful King of the Andals and the First Men. And his sister, Daenerys, of the House Targaryen."
Khal Drogo commands a great presence with his towering 6 foot 4 stature and fierce demeanor as a Dothraki warlord. His long, black locks and prominent blue war paint on his chest add to his imposing appearance. With a robust and muscular build, Khal Drogo embodies the strength and skill of a true leader of the Dothraki people. (Jason Momoa)
As Illyrio is greeting Khal Drogo, Viserys whispers to Daenerys, "Do you see how long his hair is? When Dothraki are defeated in combat, they cut off their braid so the whole world can see their shame. Khal Drogo has never been defeated. He's a savage, of course, but he's one of the finest killers alive. And you will be his queen."
Suddenly Illyrio beckons for Daenerys, "Come forward, my dear."
As Daenerys approaches, Khal Drogo observes her every move. Despite the fear evident on her face, she boldly meets his gaze. After a moment, Khal Drogo commands his horsemen to charge forward, and they ride off into the distance.
"Where's he going?" Viserys demanded an answer as he strode towards Illyrio.
"The ceremony is over," the magister replied.
"But he didn't say anything. Did he like her?" inquired Viserys.
"Trust me, Your Grace. If he didn't like her, we'd know," claims Illyrio.
The next day, Illyrio, Viserys, and Daenerys strolled along the garden balcony that offered a view of the sea.
"It won't be long now. Soon you will cross the Narrow Sea and take back your father's throne. The people drink secret toasts to your health. They cry out for their true king," Illyrio flatters the Targaryen prince following the news of Khal Drogo's agreement to marry Daenerys.
"When will they be married?" Viserys demands to know.
"Soon. The Dothraki never stay still for long," Illyrio informs him.
A brief conversion then ensues between the two. "Is it true they lie with their horses?" Viserys asked.
"I wouldn't ask Khal Drogo."
"Do you take me for a fool?"
"I take you for a king. Kings lack the caution of common men. My apologies if I've given offense," apologized Illyrio.
Viserys arrogantly declares that he possesses the ability to manipulate Drogo like a puppet. In his deluded mind, he believes that by offering Drogo a queen, he can selfishly obtain an army in return.
"I don't want to be his queen. I want to go home," Danerys pleaded with her brother, breaking up his conversation with the magister.
"So do I. I want us both to go home. But they took it from us. So tell me, sweet sister, how do we go home?"
"I don't know," Daenerys responds with despair.
"We go home with an army. With Khal Drogo's army. I would let his whole tribe fuck you, all 40,000 men and their horses too, if that's what it took," Viserys callously claims, showing no interest in his sisters well-being. He gives Daenerys a brotherly kiss on the forehead before walking away.
In a matter of days the nuptial festivities for Khal Drogo and Daenerys are scheduled.
The wedding takes place in the open air, in the presence of a staggering forty-thousand Dothraki fighters, right outside the walls of Pentos.
The center of the area is filled with a blatant exhibition of combat and promiscuity, as the wedding couple seated on the thrones oversee the scene. Daenerys is visibly distressed by the spectacle surrounding her.
"When do I meet with the Khal? We need to begin planning the invasion," Viserys asked Illyrio, who were both sitting at a close distance from Daenerys.
"If Khal Drogo has promised you a crown, you shall have it," Illyrio replied.
"When?" the Targaryen prince demands to know.
"When their omens favor war," he explained.
"I piss on Dothraki omens. I waited eleven years to get my throne back," Viserys insolently retorts, declaring his ownership of the throne since Anakin's absence.
As the Targaryens and Khal Drogo bear witness, the display of sex and violence grows more extreme. Two men engage in a deadly battle over a woman, each vying for her body. Intently, Drogo observes the scene. As the conflict reaches its conclusion, both men brandish their weapons and enter into a fierce duel. The triumphant fighter gruffly guts his opponent and seizes his braid with his blade, victoriously lifting it up as a sign of his conquest.
"A Dothraki wedding without at least three deaths is considered a dull affair," Illyrio explains to Viserys who is looking on in amusement. However, Daenerys is appalled by the brutality.
As the celebration continues, a warrior dressed in traditional Westeros clothing emerges in front of Daenerys and Drogo. "Come forward, Jorah the Andal," Khal Drogo greets him in Dothraki.
The knight, Ser Jorah Mormont, exudes a quiet resolve. His mane of dark hair, threaded with streaks of gray, is closely cropped, conveying a practical and no-nonsense look. He also sports a short beard mirroring his hair color. His eyes, light-blue, hint at a depth of experience and inner turmoil. A strong, angular jawline and weathered features speak to a life seasoned by adversity. Standing tall at 6 foot 1, Jorah's muscular frame testifies to his years as a formidable warrior and respected knight. (Iain Glen)
"Mighty Khal," Ser Jorah uttered with a small gesture of reverence. With books in tow, he ascends the small steps, heading towards Daenerys. "A small gift for the new Khaleesi. Songs and histories from the Seven Kingdoms," he announces as he presents her with a small stack of books.
"Thank you, ser. Are you from my country?" Daenerys inquired.
"Ser Jorah Mormont of Bear Island. I served your father for many years. Gods be good, I hope to always serve the rightful king," he replied, disclosing his ties to her family.
"The rightful king?" she responded, voice filled with uncertainty. "Can you tell me. Is it true what they say about my nephew?"
When she inquires, Ser Jorah glances back and notices Viserys' intense stare directed at him. Jorah realizes that, for whatever reason, the two Targaryens have not been in touch with Anakin for quite a while.
"I wouldn't know. I've been looking for you two since before the new King in Meereen came to power," Jorah answered. His statement was not entirely false.
Lord Varys had tasked him with the mission of gathering information on the last of the Targaryen heirs even before the events in Slaver's Bay. However, he had a feeling that if Varys was aware of Anakin's existence before he was sent away, he would be there rather than here.
With intent focus, Viserys maintains a watchful gaze on the knight's every move as he takes a seat beside Illyrio.
The magister abruptly rises from his seat and directs his servants to unveil a chest containing three dragon eggs for Daenerys. One is green, one is cream-colored, and one is black with scarlet ripples and swirls.
"Dragon eggs, Daenerys. From the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai. The ages have turned them to stone, but they will always be beautiful," Illyrio states. Daenerys thanks him and she takes the emerald egg in her hand, becoming completely transfixed as she gazes at it.
As the festivities continue, numerous presents are presented by the rest of the Dothraki.
Abruptly, a leading commander in Khal Drogo's Khalasar approaches him and whispers something in confidence. The meaning of the exchange remains a mystery, but it quickly puts Drogo on high alert. He rises from his seat and instructs his soldiers to bring him a steed.
"What's this, what's going on?" Viserys inquires, observing Khal Drogo and his men depart.
"I don't know," Illyrio informed him.
"Guess we'll have to find out," Ser Jorah remarks, his eyes falling upon Daenerys as if to invite her to accompany them if she so wished.
As he, Illyrio and Viserys make their way to see what the commotion is about, Daenerys follows closely behind.
Arriving at a barren landscape populated by Khal Drogo and a handful of his warriors, they stood facing directly at a foreign army of men, a quite formidable force.
"Unsullied," Illrio speaks up. He informs the three with him that the Unsullied are elite warrior-eunuchs bred and trained in Astapor, one of the three major cities of Slaver's Bay. They are slave-soldiers famed for their skills and discipline in battle.
"What are they doing all the way out here?" Jorah questioned.
Before an answer can be given, the massive squad of Unsullied abruptly part ways, forming a clear pathway for a man to pass through. The Unsullied commence a rhythmic tapping of their spears upon the ground as the man emerges from the pathway.
In an instant the two Targaryens and even Ser Jorah immediately know who this is, his platinum-blonde hair a dead giveaway.
Daenerys is the first to whisper to herself, "Annie?"