Daenerys I

Please let him live. I can't do this; I can't be alone. I can't be the last Targaryen. She thought tearfully as he sat next to her brother Viserys laying in bed, slipping in and out of consciousness. They had given him the thick white liquid men called 'the milk of the poppy' after they had cleaned and closed his wound. So when the healers were done with their craft and they told her that all hope was now on Viserys himself to fight death, he had talked nonsense when he was barely awake. He had talked to her about how much he was sorry, that he should've treated her better, and that all hope was now on her. She found that she did not like him when he spoke like that, like his time was near. He is the dragon, not me. He is going to take us home. Yet he had not spoken or opened his eyes for almost a week now. And Dany feared the worst.

When she eventually stood up and opened the door to his chambers, she frowned as she saw five guards at least outside of his chambers. They had their distinctive spiked helmets on and looked like they were Ghiscari. The guards were the best in Pentos, according to Magister Illyrio. She had never seen them in a fight; they never spoke, and they seemed cold. But she could not help her puzzled expression from taking hold on her milkish face as she noticed that a knight, a knight she had come to love as a child just as much as Ser Willam Darry, was not here. He always guarded him; where is he? She thought, but he managed to shake the question out of her head and put on a brave face as she walked away from the guards and towards her chambers. She loved the warm nights here in Pentos, especially when the breezing winds from the sea lighty smashed the palace. It reminded her of the house with the red door. The house where she had spent much of her childhood with her brother. She had not remembered a time where she had despaired more than seeing the red door close for her the last time. When one of the Usurper's killers had reached them in Braavos.

She undressed once she arrived at her chambers, climbed onto the bed, closed her eyes, and let her mind wander. Viserys has said that they have always had knives after them. But for years now it had calmed, and Daenerys thought that the Usurper had given up. But in the last moon it had intensified, with numerous incidents where cutthroats were apprehended by Magister Illyrio. Viserys wanted to run to Myr, to the new Kingdom of the Three Daughters, where they surely had no love for Robert Baratheon. But Magister Illyrio had insisted that he could guarantee their safety. But half a fortnight ago, Illyrio had failed to do so, and one of the Usurper's knives had stabbed her brother.

Dany had asked Illyrio if she could see the man who had done it, but the Magister of Pentos said that he already was dead. In the worst way possible, the killer had shamed Pentos, he had said. He had been removed of limbs before being put in a crow's cage and had succumbed the day after they had taken his limbs. Dany shuddered at the thought of the punishment.

She did not remember when she had fallen asleep, but she woke up when a servant knocked on her door. She did not have time to ask who it was before a servant opened the door. She looked distressed.

''Princess, your brother. He has woken and is walking.'' The servant let out.

Dany immediately bolted out of the bed. The word of her brother awoke her and let out a spurt of energy that woke her up at once. ''Where is he?'' she asked, distressed.

''He was leaving his chambers last. He is currently having a meeting with Magister Illyrio, but he asked for your attendance at the morning fast.''

''Help me get dressed.'' She barked, commanding. Daenerys Targaryen did not usually bark out commands at servants, but this time she could not help herself. The two servants startled and immediately obeyed, and soon she was dressed in a beautiful blue silk gown. They had also done her hair and double-braided it gracefully. When she was done, she stepped out of her chambers and walked towards the fasting hall. She could hear her heartbeat and how fast it was beating as she buzzed in excitement. He survived; I'm not alone.

The first thing she spotted when she arrived at the hall was the table in the middle of the small hall. On the table lay multiple fruits and meats. Her mouth watered slightly at the sight, and her stomach growled. Then she noticed the new many exotic plants and wardrobes, with a stunning painting of Aegon the Unworthy. She was all alone in the hall, which made her anxious. She approached the huge painting, admiring the work that must have been done. She frowned when her eyes saw the king more clearly. He does not look like a king. Her ancestor looked old and bloated with a small mouth and a large silver beard that covered up the fat in his neck and face. He wore a crown of red gold, huge and heavy. And despite it being a painting, her ancestors' violet eyes managed to make her uneasy.

''Princess.'' She heard a voice behind her. She turned around and started. But calmed once her eyes met his brown ones and his distinctive white helmet.

''Ser Jonothor, my apologies. I did not notice you.''

''There is no need to be sorry, Princess.'' Ser Jonothor Darry replied in earnest.

''Where is my brother?''

His face fell a little. ''He is with Magister Illyrio; they should all arrive soon.'' He seemed reserved about her question.

''Have you seen him? How is he?'' Daenerys asked.

''He is well, Princess Daenerys. He recovered swiftly once he woke from his slumber.'' He turned his head and looked behind for a quick moment before adding, ''He is much the same as he was a moon's turn ago; you'll see no difference in him.''

She sighed; she had dared hope that the words he had said to her when he lay dying were genuine. And that once he woke up, he would be different than he was before, and that she would not have to fear the dragon being awoken. But alas, the gods decided that this would not change him. Jonothor must have noticed her reaction because he closed the distance between them and laid his hand on her shoulder.

''It will be okay; do not worry.''

Her brother never bothered with assigning her one of them as a personal guard; she did not mind; however, he was the king and the one who was going to take them home. He had to be better protected than her. Ser Jonothor had still tried to act as her personal guard and protector though, and just like his brother Ser Willem, he had a way to bring her comfort. He was a great warrior as well; both he and Ser Gerold had tried to teach her brother the art of the blade, but Viserys proved to be a difficult learner. He had improved massively though; Magister Illyrio had said to him that it looked like Aemon the Dragonknight had come again, and Dany was impressed by his display in sparring. But Jonothor and Gerold had not shared that comparison; they said he was decent and would be able to take on many knights, but he would never be a great warrior.

''Daenerys!'' She could recognise that voice anywhere, anytime. So when Dany turned around, she did not startle. She was relieved to see him walking so fast. Even though Viserys' eyes screamed of something she did not like. Illyrio and Ser Gerold were right behind him, with Illyrio looking satisfied and Gerold looking reserved.

''Viserys!'' She gasped and rushed to embrace him. She could not help the tears from welling in her eyes. She did not care to heed Jonothor's warning; her brother was alive, and that was all that matters. Viserys laughed sweetly, which made her heart warm. And Ser Gerold seemed to be warm as well, as a rare smile could be seen on his face.

''You look radiant, sweet sister.''

''I must concur with the king, Princess.'' Illyrio said sweetly before clapping his hands. ''Now, we have much to discuss, but do take your pleasure in the offerings of the table. Lemoncakes from Dorne, sweet beets from Volantis, and raspberry tartlets freshly crafted in the kitchens of Pentos—all are yours to enjoy.'' He declared.

They all sat down with the exception of Ser Jonothor and Ser Gerold, who both stood guard by two only doors to the hall. She took a bite of one of the raspberry tartlets and felt the sweetness. A servant came forward and filled her and her brother's cup with a sweet red wine. While another servant came in with a different wine for Illyrio.

''Arbour Gold—one of the many treasures of your Westerosi vintners. In my later years, I've grown quite fond of it. But I've heard whispers that you, Princess, have developed a sweet tooth. So for you, a sweet wine from Myr—it shall suit your tastes perfectly.'' Illyrio giggled.

''Thank you, Magister.'' Daenerys said politely with a smile.

''Is he on his way, Illyrio?'' Viserys asked, impatient.

''Yes, my king. He should arrive within a fortnight.''

''Splendid.'' the king replied, his lips curving as he turned his head towards her. Uncertainty took hold of her.

''It is high time you were wed, sweet sister. You are a woman grown, flowered, and fair. I have found the perfect match for you—a strong warrior with thousands of fierce riders at his back. They will carry us home, and I shall claim my crown.'' Viserys declared.

A shiver ran down Dany's spine. She wanted to protest; she did not want to marry anyone. But she also did not want to wake the dragon, so she stayed silent. Ser Gerold must have already heard the news, because when her eyes met him, he looked at her with pity. Ser Jonothor looked surprised, however, and opened his mouth to speak, but his Lord Commander intervened before he could do so and stared him down.

''Who is he?'' Daenerys finally managed.

''He is known as Drogo, a mighty Khal of the fearsome Dothraki nomads. He commands a horde of forty thousand riders, fierce and skilled in raiding and killing. He has pledged them to my cause, just as I have pledged him you—a beautiful foreign princess, his queen-to-be.'' Viserys said.

''Khal Drogo has pledged ten thousand Dothraki warriors to your cause, my king.'' Illyrio butted in.

''Ten thousand? But you told me he commands forty thousand.'' Viserys said, vexed.

''Yes, my king. But Khal Drogo cannot promise you all of them.'' Illyrio answered diplomatically.

Viserys eyes blazed dangerously, though he did not act on it. Instead, he waved his hands dismissively. ''Very well, then. It matters little. With ten thousand Dothraki screamers at my back, I could sweep the Seven Kingdoms with ease. Tyrell, Redwyne, Darry, Greyjoy—all of them. They bear no more love for the Usurper than I do.''

''Well spoken, my king. You are the dragon, the rightful heir. The people of Westeros, noble and common alike, will rally to your banner when you return to reclaim your father's throne. Even now, they raise their cups in secret, toasting your name, yearning for the dragons to once more rule these lands.'' Illyrio said,

Viserys Targaryen puffed up in pride at his words. ''You see, sweet sister? It is as it was always meant to be—I shall be king of Westeros, and you shall reign as Drogo's queen.''

''I don't want to be his queen. Please, please, Viserys, I don't want to; I want to go home.'' To the house with the red door. Dany said after gathering up the courage to do so, she immediately regretted it once she saw her brother's face fall. A tiny spark of violet flames seemed to erupt in his eyes.

''Home?'' He kept his voice low, but she could hear the fury in his tone. ''Yes, Dany, I desire that as much as you do—there is nothing I would cherish more. But it was stolen from us, torn away by the Usurper and his dogs. Tell me, sweet sister, how do we go home?'' Viserys asked, hair-raisingly calm. Dany could not answer him. Aegon the Dragon took Westeros with dragons. But we have no dragons anymore; they are all dead.

''We return with an army, Dany—Khal Drogo's fearsome army. I would see his entire khalasar fuck you, all forty thousand men and their horses too, if that's what it took.'' Viserys answered his own question, his hand lightly touching her cheek. Jon Darry tried and failed to hide his face falling at his declaration, but Ser Gerold remained as stoic as ever. Dany closed her eyes, awaiting a hard smack for defying him. But the smack never came. Instead, he rose from his seat.

''You will do as I command, dear sister. And you will be perfect; you do not want to wake the dragon. Do you?'' He asked, and Dany, with eyes on the floor, managed to shake her head.

''Good!'' He roared in approval, making Dany jump a tiny bit. ''I will not be able to attend the wedding; I must leave on the marrow.'' What? He is leaving me?

''Why?'' Dany asked, quickly growing agitated.

''You have not heard?'' Viserys asked, a little annoyed.

''The Usurper's brother is dead. That's why there have been so many spies here. He thinks us responsible.'' Ser Gerold butted in.

Magister Illyrio answered The White Bull's statement with a snort. ''How and why he has come to that conclusion the gods only know.''

''This pains me, sweet sister, but it is why I cannot linger in Pentos. The Usurper's knives are everywhere, their reach growing longer by the day. You will be safe with Khal Drogo and his bloodriders. As for Ser Jonothor, I will leave that useless knight with you—perhaps he'll guard you better than he ever did me.''

Dany was terrified by the prospect of being all alone. He survived the attack, but I will still be alone.

''The Usurper must not learn of my whereabouts; his hunger to see me dead has only grown. That is why this marriage must be swift and why I must remain hidden. But fear not, sweet sister—we shall meet again, I swear it. And when that day comes, you and I shall reclaim what is rightfully mine.''

''Where will you go?'' Dany asked, hopeful that he would not be too far away.

''I cannot tell you where I'll go, Dany. The Usurper's spies are everywhere. Not even Illyrio knows—only my Kingsguard are privy to my plans. But do not fret, and shed no tears for me, sweet sister. When the time is right, I shall summon you and your husband to my side. Until then, you will please him, as only you can. You will fuck him so well that even his horses will bow to me when I arrive.''

As he walked from the room, with Ser Gerold close behind him. He did not bother to turn his head when addressing his other white knight. ''Ser Gerold will provide you with the location just before our departure, Ser Jonothor. For your sake, I pray you prove more adept at keeping secrets than you have been at safeguarding Targaryens.'' The venom was clear in her brother's voice; it sent a chill to her spine.

''Yes, my prince.'' Ser Jonothor replied dutifully, with a reserved face.

A fortnight later, Daenerys Targaryen found herself at her wedding day, which was not one the most princesses this side of the world would hope for, that at least she was sure of. As she and Khal Drogo sat at the high table outside Illyrio's palace, the Dothraki all had copper-coloured skin, black hair, and black eyes.

Her husband was tall and muscular but moved gracefully despite his build. He also had a long, drooping moustache and a long braid hung with tiny bells that hung down to his thighs. Magister Illyrio said that it symbolised his status among the Dothraki as an undefeated warlord. Her new husband had called for his khalasar to arrive before the walls of Pentos and celebrate his wedding, and arrive they had. All forty thousand of them, together with an unknown number of women, children, and slaves.

Khal Drogo growled something in a tonge foreign to her, with a thin smile on his face, as they both saw a headless man fall to the ground. She had never seen or ever attended a wedding before, and now she had her own. She had been told that the Dothraki think that everything of value to happen in a man's life should happen under the open sky, and as such, the wedding had to take place outside and not in Drogo's manse inside the city.

Illyrio nor the people of Pentos did seem to mind though; perhaps they were grateful that the feared Khalasar of Khal Drogo did not have to pass the gate, where they could easily plunder, steal, and steal innocence.

Ser Jonothor had told her that the ceremony was very foreign compared to her homeland, but she did not notice. How could I? I have never set foot on Westerosi land. Shortly after her brother Rheagar's death, her mother had been sent with the young prince Viserys together with Ser Gerold, Ser Jonothor, and Ser Willem to the family ancestral seat of Dragonstone to escape The Usurper and his dogs who were marching towards King's Landing. Daenerys had been born nine moons after their flight, while a great storm raged above Dragonstone, sinking what remained of the Targaryen fleet as they all retreated across the narrow sea.

Another horrifying scream and the sight of crimson coating the otherwise white granite floor made her squint her eyes, while Jon Darry could be seen frowning next to her.

A hairy man approaching their party at the high table distracted her from the savage ceromany. He was a large middle-aged man, but still strong and fit. He wore wool and leather, with a dark green tunic displaying the standing black bear. When he was close enough, he turned his dark eyes left and right before landing on the Khal.

Khal Drogo roared something in approval before the knight stepped closer and their eyes met. They must know each other.

''Princess, may your marriage bring you true happiness. As a token of goodwill, I have brought you a gift—a modest collection of old histories and songs of the Seven Kingdoms, written in the Common Tongue.''

''You speak the Common Tongue with ease as well; are you of my homeland?'' She asked.

''Aye, princess. I served your father for many years.''

''Until you didn't.'' Ser Jonothor interrupted. ''Princess, this is Ser Jorah Mormont of Bear Island. You say you served King Aerys, yet you rose against him with Eddard Stark.'' Ser Jonothor replied stoically, and Dany bristled upon hearing his origins.

''House Stark stood as the Wardens of the North. We all served at the king's pleasure, as was our duty.'' The bear knight replied vexed, determined to defend himself. Her new husband noticed the hostile nature between the two and began to narrow his eyes towards Darry.

''I thank you for the gift, Ser Jorah.'' Dany found the courage to quickly butt in, attempting to disarm the growing tension.

Ser Jorah answered with a soft smile and a nod. ''I was given to understand your brother would be present. I wish to offer my respects to the rightful king.'' Ser Jorah enquired, once again looking left and right in an attempt to spot him.

''I fear we must disappoint you, Ser Jorah. His Grace departed from us half a moon past. After the attempt on his life, he deemed Pentos too perilous to remain.'' Magister Illyrio answered, a rare indifference in his tone.

''I see. Did any of you have the honour of learning which city King Viserys chose as his destination?''

''Why do you want to know?'' Ser Jonothor asked, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Ser Jorah met his gaze, his face remaining stoic as he replied, ''I seek to swear my sword to him. I wish to fight for the one true king, the rightful heir.''

''You desire the return of your castle, a royal pardon from King Viserys for your crimes, and the freedom you've been denied.'' Jon Darry replied in a knowing tone.

''Ser Jonothor Darry alone holds the knowledge of the king's current whereabouts here in Pentos.'' Magister Illyrio answered diplomatically for the Darry knight once again.

Ser Jorah did not reply; instead, his eyes met Daenerys', and he bowed respectfully before retreating. And as another deafening cheer erupted from the khalasar, another corpse along with a cut, dark braid fell to the ground.

She managed to hear Magister Illyrio snap his fingers towards two copper-skinned slaves, who quickly obeyed and brought a large painted casket embroidered with gold and green and red emeralds. Dany found herself drawn to the casket; her curiosity peaked. She turned her head towards the rounded blonde Pentoshi, who smiled.

''The finest gift saved for last, Princess. Pray; see it for yourself.'' Illyrio encouraged her.

Dany rose from her seat and approached the casket; she heard the footsteps and the sound of Ser Jonothor's steel armour moving close behind her. When she was a mere foot from the casket, she bent down and opened the casket. And the sight she found before the opened casket filled her body with a newfound warmth, determination, and bravery.

''By the seven.'' She heard Ser Jonothor gasp behind her.

''Dragon eggs, Khaleesi. Though the passage of ages may have turned them to stone, their beauty remains eternal.''