Chapter 4: Riders of Fortune
The days after Mat and Daenerys' wedding passed in a whirlwind of preparation. The Dothraki horde moved with surprising efficiency, packing up the camp outside Pentos, readying their horses, and gathering supplies for the long journey across the Dothraki Sea. There was a buzz of excitement in the air, as if the entire horde was preparing for something momentous—something that would change the fate of all involved.
For Mat, it was a balancing act. He spent his time learning as much as he could about Dothraki customs, knowing full well that his position as Khal was still tentative. He had earned their respect through battle, but now he needed to lead them. His plan, mad as it was, hinged on taking Daenerys to Vaes Dothrak, to present her to the dosh khaleen, the ancient widows of past Khals who advised the Dothraki. It was tradition, and Mat knew that following their customs would cement his position—and Daenerys'—as true leaders of the horde.
But he also knew that his luck had a way of turning even the most rigid customs on their heads. And if his gut was right, things would turn in his and Dany's favor by the time they reached the sacred city.
The party set out two days later just as the sun broke over the horizon. Mat rode at the front of the procession, Daenerys at his side on the beautiful black mare he had given her. Behind them rode Viserys, sour-faced and irritable, clearly frustrated by the turn of events. Ser Jorah Mormont was always nearby, his watchful eyes scanning the plains. The bloodriders—Rakharo, Aggo, and Kovarro—rode with stoic determination, keeping close to their new Khal and Khaleesi. Daenerys' handmaidens—Irri, Jhiqui, and Doreah—followed behind, giggling softly amongst themselves, marveling at the enormity of the horde as it stretched out across the endless plains.
The Dothraki Sea was vast, an unbroken expanse of grass that seemed to go on forever, rippling under the wind like the surface of a great green ocean. The air smelled of earth and sky, and the only sounds were the soft thrum of hooves against the ground and the distant calls of wild animals roaming the plains.
As they rode, Mat couldn't help but glance at Daenerys, who seemed almost transformed by the journey. Gone was the uncertain girl he had first met in Pentos, weighed down by her brother's ambitions and the expectations of a world she barely knew. Here, in the open plains, she was different—freer, lighter. The wind played with her silver hair, and her violet eyes sparkled with a kind of joy that Mat hadn't seen in her before.
He couldn't resist a grin. "You look like you were born to ride across these plains, Dany."
Daenerys glanced at him, a smile tugging at her lips. "I've never felt anything like this," she admitted, her voice full of wonder. "The open sky, the endless plains... it's beautiful."
"Better than being cooped up in Illyrio's manse, eh?" Mat teased, adjusting his hat against the sun. "Less chance of running into angry merchants or self-important brothers, too."
Daenerys laughed softly, her smile widening. "Yes, much better." She looked ahead, her eyes scanning the horizon. "I think I could get used to this."
Mat's grin deepened. He liked seeing her like this—happy, free from the weight of her past. He knew the road ahead wasn't going to be easy, but for now, the banter and lightheartedness made the journey feel less daunting. It reminded him of the days when he'd traveled with Rand and Perrin, back before the weight of destiny had settled on all their shoulders.
"And you?" Daenerys asked, tilting her head to look at him. "Do you miss your home, Mat? I don't know much about where you're from, but I can tell you don't belong here."
Mat chuckled, his eyes scanning the rolling plains before them. "Miss home? Sometimes. But I've always been more at home on the road. There's something about not knowing where the next turn will take you... it keeps life interesting." He glanced at her, his grin softening. "And if I know one thing, it's that my life's never been boring since I met you."
Daenerys blushed, a faint pink coloring her pale cheeks, but she didn't look away. Instead, she smiled back at him, a warm, genuine smile that made Mat's heart beat just a little faster.
The dice in his head rattled softly, their constant presence a reminder that this moment—this journey—was part of something larger, something neither of them fully understood yet. But for now, it felt right. The future could wait.
The first days of the journey passed smoothly, the Dothraki horde moving as one across the plains. Mat spent most of his time observing, trying to learn as much as he could about how the Dothraki lived, how they fought, and how they expected their Khal to lead. He spoke often with Rakharo, Aggo, and Kovarro, who seemed eager to teach him the customs he needed to know. The bloodriders respected him for his victories in combat, but they were also wary, watching him closely to see if he would stumble. Mat, in turn, was careful not to push too hard. He played the part of the confident leader while listening more than he spoke, slowly earning their trust.
Viserys, however, was less cooperative.
The Targaryen prince sulked at the back of the procession, his frustration evident in every movement. He clearly resented Mat's sudden rise to power and the way Daenerys had embraced her new role as Khaleesi. Mat had caught Viserys glaring at him more than once, his eyes full of hatred and envy.
Mat didn't care much for Viserys' temper tantrums, but he knew the man was dangerous in his own way—like a snake coiled and ready to strike. He kept a close eye on the prince, knowing that sooner or later Viserys would try something foolish.
Daenerys, meanwhile, had grown closer to Mat with each passing day. Their banter became a constant source of comfort for her, and she found herself looking forward to their conversations more than anything else. Mat's humor, his laid-back attitude, and the way he treated her like a person—rather than a pawn—was something she hadn't experienced before. She felt... safe with him, in a way she had never felt with anyone.
One evening, as the sun dipped low on the horizon casting the sky in shades of orange and purple, Daenerys turned to Mat with a curious look.
"Do you believe in fate, Mat?" she asked, her voice soft.
Mat chuckled, adjusting his hat. "Fate's a funny thing, Dany. Some say it's all written in the stars, that we don't have a choice in how things turn out. Me? I've always believed that luck plays a bigger role. The dice roll, and we make our own way. But if there's one thing I've learned... sometimes, those dice roll in ways we can't control."
Daenerys considered his words, her eyes thoughtful. "I think you're right. I've felt it, too. Ever since we left Pentos... it's like the world is shifting, moving us toward something."
Mat nodded, his grin fading as the dice rattled louder in his head. "Yeah. I feel it, too. And when we reach Vaes Dothrak, I think that's when the real game starts."
Daenerys smiled at him, her eyes shining in the fading light. "Whatever happens, I'm glad you're with me."
Mat grinned back. "Well, someone's gotta keep things interesting, right?"
They rode together in comfortable silence, the wind whipping through their hair as the vast, endless plains of the Dothraki Sea stretched out before them.
The journey ahead was long, and the challenges they faced would be great. But for now, as they rode side by side, Mat and Daenerys felt something close to hope—hope that together, they could shape their own fates and carve a path through the shifting sands of destiny.
Because as long as the dice kept rolling, Mat knew that luck—and whatever else lay in store for them—was on their side.
The endless plains of the Dothraki Sea stretched out before them like an ocean of green, rippling beneath the sky's vast expanse. The horde moved steadily across it, a seemingly endless procession of riders and horses, their banners flapping in the wind, the sound of hooves like the heartbeat of the earth itself. It was a rhythm that Mat had come to appreciate—there was something about the open plains, the freedom of riding, that made the world feel wide and full of possibility.
For Daenerys, however, the constant riding was a new challenge. The Dothraki had lived their entire lives in the saddle, but she was still learning. And that's where Mat came in.
Each day as they rode, Mat guided her, offering tips and tricks he had picked up in his years of horsemanship. He had grown up riding in the fields of the Two Rivers, and the experience served him well now. Daenerys, determined to master the skill, listened carefully and taking in every bit of advice he gave.
"Loosen the reins a little," Mat said one afternoon as they rode side by side. "You're holding them too tight—she'll respond better if you let her have her head."
Daenerys nodded, adjusting her grip as the black mare beneath her tossed its head. She had grown more comfortable in the saddle since the journey began, but there were still moments when her nervousness showed.
Mat grinned at her. "You're doing great, you know. By the time we reach Vaes Dothrak, you'll be outriding half the horde."
Daenerys shot him a sidelong glance, her lips quirking up in a small smile. "If I survive the journey," she said, though there was a teasing note in her voice. "I've never ridden this much in my life."
Mat chuckled. "Riding's like anything else. It gets easier the more you do it. And besides, you've got me here to keep you from falling off."
Her smile widened, and Mat felt a warmth spread through his chest. He had grown used to their easy banter, and more than that, he enjoyed it. Daenerys had a quiet strength about her, one that reminded him of some of the women he had known back in his own world—women who had fought against the odds, who had shouldered burdens without complaint. And though Daenerys had been uncertain when they first met, Mat could see her changing, growing into the role of Khaleesi with every passing day.
At night, they shared a tent, keeping up appearances for the horde. It was expected, after all—the Khal and Khaleesi were supposed to be intimate, and the Dothraki were not a people who respected weakness or hesitance. But despite what the horde might think, Mat and Daenerys had not yet crossed that line. Instead, they spent their nights talking, learning, and preparing for the path that lay ahead.
The lessons with Daenerys' handmaidens had become a regular occurrence. Irri, Jhiqui, and Doreah would gather in the evenings to teach Daenerys—and by extension, Mat—the intricacies of the Dothraki language. Mat picked it up quickly, his sharp mind absorbing the new words and phrases with ease. Daenerys, too, was a quick learner, though the lessons often left them both exhausted by the end of the night.
One evening as they sat in the tent practicing phrases under the watchful eyes of the handmaidens, Mat found himself distracted. Doreah, the Lysene woman, had been paying him more attention than usual. Her flirtations had grown bolder as the nights went on, and tonight, she seemed determined to capture his attention entirely.
"You speak Dothraki well, Khal Mat," Doreah purred, leaning forward slightly as she corrected his pronunciation. Her fingers brushed his arm, lingering longer than necessary. "Perhaps I can give you some private lessons later... if the Khaleesi allows it."
Mat raised an eyebrow, chuckling at the suggestion, but before he could respond Daenerys' voice cut through the tent like a whip.
"That will not be necessary, Doreah," Daenerys said coldly, her eyes flashing with something fierce and unexpected. "Mat does not need private lessons from you."
The tension in the tent thickened instantly, and the other handmaidens fell silent, exchanging nervous glances. Mat, caught between amusement and surprise, glanced at Daenerys and noticed the fire in her eyes for the first time.
Doreah blinked, momentarily taken aback by the sharpness in Daenerys' tone. She recovered quickly, bowing her head in deference. "As you wish, Khaleesi," she murmured, though there was a note of irritation in her voice.
The lesson resumed, but the mood had shifted. Doreah remained silent for the rest of the evening, and Mat could sense the tension radiating from Daenerys even after the handmaidens had left.
Once they were alone, Mat stretched his legs and leaned back against the pillows, watching Daenerys as she tidied up the tent. She moved with a certain stiffness, her shoulders tight with the remnants of her earlier anger.
"That was quite the performance back there," Mat said with a grin, trying to lighten the mood. "Didn't know you had that in you."
Daenerys paused, glancing at him, her expression softening. "I'm sorry if I overreacted," she said quietly. "It's just... Doreah has always been... forward."
Mat waved her apology off, sitting up and giving her a more serious look. "Dany, you've got nothing to apologize for. If anything, I liked seeing that fire. Shows you're not letting people push you around."
She hesitated, searching his face for a moment. "Does it bother you? The way she... acted?"
Mat snorted, shaking his head. "Bother me? Not a chance. Doreah's nice and all, but I'm not interested." He stood and crossed the tent to where Daenerys stood, lowering his voice. "I'm loyal to you. That hasn't changed, and it's not going to."
The sincerity in his voice must have reached her, because Daenerys let out a soft breath, her shoulders relaxing. "Thank you, Mat."
He smiled, giving her a small nod. "You're my Khaleesi. And as long as we're in this together, I'll watch your back. Don't worry about Doreah—or anyone else for that matter."
Daenerys seemed relieved, but there was something else in her eyes now—something deeper. She bit her lip, her gaze dropping for a moment before meeting his again.
"Mat..." she began, her voice softer now. "I... I've been thinking. About us. About what this... marriage means."
Mat felt his heart skip a beat. He had been wondering when this conversation would come, but now that it was here he found himself caught off guard. "Yeah?"
Daenerys stepped closer, her expression uncertain but determined. "I know we've been keeping up appearances, and you've been... kind. More than kind. But... I think we need to stop pretending. We need to decide what this really is."
Mat looked into her eyes, feeling the weight of her words settle over him. She was right, of course. They had been playing a role for the Dothraki, but the connection between them had grown beyond mere pretense. They had built something real—respect, trust, even a bond that neither of them had expected.
"I think you're right," Mat said quietly, his voice steady. "We need to figure out what this is. But I'm in no rush, Dany. We've got time to do this right."
Daenerys nodded, her face softening as she stepped even closer, her hand brushing against his arm. "Thank you," she whispered. "For everything."
They stood there for a moment, close but not quite touching, the air between them thick with unspoken possibilities. And for the first time, Daenerys allowed herself to wonder if this marriage—this union born of chance and fate—might be something more than just survival. Something real. Something that could grow.
As the night wore on they settled down to sleep, wrapped in each other's presence, the world outside their tent fading into the background.
Whatever the future held, they would face it together. And as the stars twinkled overhead, Daenerys began to hope that perhaps, just perhaps, this was the beginning of something far greater than either of them had imagined.
Each day on the journey across the Dothraki Sea, Daenerys found her confidence growing. At first, the constant riding had been grueling—her legs and thighs aching from the long hours in the saddle. But now, weeks into the journey, her body had adapted. Her once-soft thighs had grown stronger, toughened like well-worn leather. She no longer winced when mounting her horse, and the rhythm of riding had become second nature. The vast, open plains of the Dothraki Sea no longer felt so intimidating. Instead, they felt like home.
Mat had noticed the change in her as well. He often watched her with an approving grin as they rode together, sometimes offering tips but more often just racing her, pushing her to go faster, to enjoy the ride. Daenerys had never felt so free. There was something exhilarating about the wind in her hair and the wide-open spaces before them. It was as if for the first time in her life the world wasn't closing in on her—it was opening up.
But there were moments when Daenerys felt that something was missing. While she and Mat had grown closer since the wedding, he spent more and more time with his bloodriders—Rakharo, Aggo, and Kovarro. The four of them had developed a camaraderie over the weeks, racing their horses across the plains, competing in mock fights, and drinking together under the stars. The Dothraki respected Mat not just as their Khal but as a man who could match them in skill, daring, and a willingness to embrace their ways.
Daenerys, however, found herself feeling neglected on those nights when Mat returned late, reeking of fermented mare's milk, his laughter loud and unrestrained. She knew he wasn't doing it to hurt her, but still, the loneliness crept in.
Mat wasn't oblivious. He noticed how her smiles grew tight when he returned late, how she busied herself with her handmaidens or buried herself in learning Dothraki when he spent too much time with the riders. He hadn't meant to make her feel alone, and one night, after another round of racing and drinking with the bloodriders, he returned to their tent with an idea.
As he entered with the familiar scent of the night air clinging to him, Daenerys looked up from where she sat by the low brazier, her violet eyes cool but curious. Before she could say anything, Mat grinned and held out a small leather flask.
"Brought you something," he said, his voice full of mischief.
Daenerys raised an eyebrow, but there was a spark of interest in her gaze. "More of that fermented mare's milk?"
Mat nodded, stepping closer and offering her the flask. "Figured you should try it. Get a taste of what I've been getting into with Rakharo and the others. Might make me a little more tolerable."
Daenerys hesitated for only a moment before taking the flask. The sharp, tangy smell of the drink hit her as soon as she uncorked it, but instead of wrinkling her nose she took a sip her lips quirking in amusement as she swallowed.
"It's... not as bad as I expected," she admitted, handing the flask back to him. "Though I think I prefer the wine Illyrio served us in Pentos."
Mat laughed, taking a swig himself before sitting down beside her. "It grows on you. Or maybe it just kills off enough of your taste buds that you stop noticing."
Daenerys smiled, a real smile this time, and the tension between them melted away. Mat passed the flask back and forth between them, the fermented drink slowly warming them both. The night outside their tent was quiet, save for the distant murmur of the Dothraki camp, but inside, the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of them.
"Did I ever tell you about the time I lost a whole week in Ebou Dar trying to outdrink a sailor twice my size?" Mat asked, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
Daenerys shook her head, leaning in as she took another sip from the flask. "No, but I'm sure it didn't end well for you."
Mat grinned. "You'd think so. But turns out, sailors are lousy gamblers. By the end of the night, I had his purse, his boat, and the worst hangover of my life."
Daenerys laughed, the sound light and easy. "And what happened to the boat?"
"I sold it," Mat said with a wink. "I've got no use for boats. I like to keep my feet on solid ground—or in the saddle."
As the fermented milk flowed and the stories kept coming, Daenerys found herself relaxing more than she had in weeks. Mat's jokes, his ridiculous stories, and his easy charm chased away the somber thoughts that usually weighed on her. She hadn't realized just how much she needed this—how much she needed him. Mat wasn't just a protector or a leader; he was her partner, someone she could trust in a world where trust was a rare and precious thing.
At some point during the night, after another round of jokes that left Daenerys giggling, she found herself looking at Mat in a new light. The way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, the warmth in his voice when he teased her, the way he always made sure she felt safe, even when the rest of the world seemed uncertain—she hadn't felt this way about anyone before.
And that scared her.
Mat noticed the change in her mood and sensing the shift leaned closer. "What's on your mind, Dany?"
Daenerys hesitated, biting her lip. "You've... been good to me, Mat. Better than I deserve, maybe."
Mat raised an eyebrow, his grin fading into something more serious. "You deserve better than what you've been through. And I told you before—I'm loyal to you."
Daenerys looked down at her hands, the warmth of the drink and Mat's presence making her feel braver than usual. "I know. And I trust you more than anyone else. But sometimes I wonder if I... if I should be more open about how I feel. I've never really had someone I could..."
She trailed off, unsure of how to finish, but Mat understood. He reached out and gently took her hand in his, his touch warm and steady.
"You don't have to rush anything, Dany. We've got time to figure this out. Whatever this is." His eyes softened, and Daenerys could see the sincerity there—the same sincerity she had grown to rely on. "When you're ready, you'll know."
For a moment, Daenerys felt a weight lift off her shoulders. She had spent so much of her life worrying about what others expected of her—Viserys, Illyrio, even Khal Drogo—but with Mat, there was no pressure. He understood her in a way no one else ever had, and that made her feel... safe.
"Thank you," she whispered, her fingers tightening around his hand.
They stayed like that for a while, the weight of the world outside their tent forgotten for the night. The stars above glittered like distant diamonds, and the horde, somewhere far behind them, prepared for the next leg of their journey. But inside their small world, it was just Mat and Daenerys, growing closer with every shared laugh, every quiet word.
As the weeks passed and their journey continued, Daenerys found herself feeling more at ease than ever before. Her confidence on horseback grew, her body toughened, and her spirit lightened. Each day brought them closer to Vaes Dothrak, and though the path ahead was uncertain, she no longer felt weighed down by fear or doubt. She had Mat by her side—her partner, her confidant, and perhaps, something more.
They passed through the city of Norvos, then Qohor, the mighty forests and rivers marking their progress as they drew closer to the sacred city. The Dothraki horde moved like a great wave across the landscape, their strength and numbers growing with each passing day. Mat spent much of his time racing with his bloodriders, earning their respect and deepening their bond, but every night, he returned to Daenerys.
And every night, they grew closer.
The fermented mare's milk became their shared indulgence, and each evening as they sat in their tent, the world seemed to shrink down to just the two of them. Daenerys felt freer than she ever had before—free from her past, free from her brother's shadow, and free to shape her own future.
And with Mat by her side, she began to believe that perhaps, just perhaps, the future wasn't something to fear.
It was something to look forward to.