Chapter 43
DAENERYS TARGARYEN
Marriage had changed her, and while she had initially thought the Dothraki to be nothing more than savages, it was not quite true. She had learned that there was more to their culture than just killing and eating.
They were archaic indeed, but they were capable of much more. She was no longer just a pampered Princess. No, she was now a Khalessi and that came with a lot of respect and power.
She was no warrior, but she had power over the Khal. She had influence and semblance of safety and agency that she had never quite tasted before. She now had servants of her own to call upon.
Irri, who was her handmaiden, was teaching her the Khal's language, and though she could speak only a few broken sentences by now, she saw it in Drogo's eyes how her effort made him proud.
Jhiqui was the other girl who cared for her, a gift along with the silvery mare upon which she accompanied her Khal.
Doreah was another one, and she was everything Daenerys had once hoped to be. Beautiful. Confident. She was Lyseni and had taught her the ways of women, and though they had seemed vulgar at first, she had noticed how her teaching had helped her gain agency in her own home.
The gifts and the life often made her forget about her brother and the home they had left behind. The Usurper's Death had been a blessing for them, and with him gone, the Seven Kingdoms had been pushed into a war with several claimants.
Her brother had urged Drogo to lend him his armies, but Drogo remained unconvinced and then the morning sickness began. She thought that it was the food at first, or the weather.
But then the witch came to check on her, and the verdict was something she was not expecting.
She was with child. The news surprised Drogo, who rushed to her side when he heard of it from the servants. He had caressed her face like she was the most precious thing in the world, as he promised her the world.
But Dorean had said that men were prone to lie like this when they were happy, and that it would serve her well to not believe them.
The customs demanded that the Khalasar ride back to Vaes Dothrak for the birth of Drogo's child, and wage no war until the babe was born. But her brother demanded that they fulfill their promise, and lend him their armies so that he could return to the Seven Kingdoms.
In the end, Drogo refused to stray from the Dothraki customs and traditions, and so her brother was left fuming as he refused to even celebrate the news of her becoming a mother.
She had called on him a dozen times, but each time her messenger was rebuffed by the servants of his new manse, the one that belonged to the blue-eyed man from the Seven Kingdoms.
Petyr Baelish, he had called himself. He had been a part of the Usurper's Council once and had served as his Master of Coin until the Usurper had caught him stealing from the Crown's coffers.
He called himself a loyalist. But Daenerys did not believe him, just as she did not believe Illyrio's tales of the small folk praying for the return of House Targaryen.
Days passed, and soon enough, it was time for the Khalasar to depart for Vaes Dothrak when a message came from her brother. Viserys had sent the man from Kingslanding to invite the entire Khalasar to a celebration.
Drogo seemed irritated, but it took a few honeyed words to convince him to accept the offer, and so now she sat beside Viserys as the Khalasar all ate, drank, and danced under the tall fires of her brother's manse.
"I must say that the food and arrangements were rather brilliant," she spoke to Illyrio, who had been unusually quiet the entire night.
The man's head snapped towards her at the compliment, as she shook her head.
"I am afraid I cannot take the credit for the celebration today, Princess," and then he turned towards the blue-eyed from Kingslandiing.
"So, he arranged all this?" she asked, and Illyrio nodded.
"Aye," and they were both looking at the man who was talking to one of the servants. And the celebrations were rather vast, and extensive. There was boar, stag, and veal, along with delicacies of all kinds.
Special food had been prepared for her given her condition as well.
"What do you think of him?" she asked, and Illyrio's eyes narrowed.
"What do you mean, Princess?" and the fat cheesmonger was not their friend either, but he had saved their life before.
"Do you trust him, Magister?" she asked, and the magister chuckled.
"The man has already betrayed one King. Who is to say he won't betray another," and that was answer enough for her.
"So, you don't trust him?" she asked, and again he answered in a riddle.
"Only a fool would trust a man like him," and that was as simple an answer she was going to get, and she saw her brother stand and walk up to the man as they began to speak in whispers, and feared that her brother may just be the fool Illyrio had spoken of.
"Perhaps you could advise your brother to be cautious around him," Illyrio suggested, and she nodded, even though she knew that it would accomplish nothing.
"I will try," she answered back.
"Tell me about the war?" and unlike Viserys, she had little interest in the affairs of the Seven Kingdoms now. It was obvious to her that the lands were lost to them, and that their family's legacy was lost to them.
Perhaps it was the luxuries of her current life, or the chance to start a new family of her own. But there were days when Danerys hoped that she was not a royal Princess, and that she could simply live the life she had now rather than chase after a legacy that was long gone.
"The war is over, my lady," and she was surprised to hear that.
"What?" she asked, and Illyrio nodded and for some reason he seemed rather disturbed as he spoke.
"The Lannisters won the war. Robert's second son slew both of his uncles, and now sits the Iron Throne as King," and now she was frowning.
"What about his eldest son? Isn't the elder son supposed to come before the younger one?" and that was the law of the Gods, and Illyrio nodded.
"Yes, that would be true. But they have removed the Usurper's eldest son from the line of succession for some reason. No one knows why, but there are quite a few tales about the temper of Prince Joffrey. On other hand, Steffon Baratheon was the one who changed the tides of the war by killing Stannis in a Trial by Combat," and she had not heard about this at all.
"He killed his own uncle," and she was taken aback by the details.
"Yes, though the man denied any relationship. He claimed that the boy and all his siblings were born from inces...." but by then, her brother and his friend had returned to the stage.
"How have you been, dear sister?" Viserys began, as he walked up to her and despite sitting beside her, they had not talked much ever since she had come back.
"I am well, brother," she answered immediately with a smile.
"I do hope the celebrations were to your liking, Princess?" the man behind him asked, and she could only nod.
"They were magnificent my lord," and they were, but she wondered about his intentions for no man would waste so much money over a simple celebration.
"Well, I do hope you are not tired," Viserys cut in in a whisper, and she noticed how his eyes narrowed as he looked towards the Khalasar celebrating in their way.
"There is still a lot left for you to enjoy," he finished, and she could only nod now as the celebrations continued.
An hour later, when night had fallen, she retired in her own tent. The celebrations had left her a rather weary mood, and Drogo noticing her weariness had left her to rest in her own tent.
She slept soundly and dreamt of giving birth to a babe. She saw him grow into a warrior much like his father, and saw her living a fulfilled life when suddenly a small push forced her to open her eyes.
"Khaleesi, Khaleesi...," and she opened her eyes slowly.
"What?" she asked wearily.
"Please, you need to wake up Khaleesi," and it was Doreah standing above her, with her eyes wide in fear and alarm.
"What happened?" she asked, and the screams finally reached her ears.
"NO! NOOOO!" "AGHHH!" "TRAITORS!"
And fear gripped her heart, as she looked at Doreah.
"We are under attack," Doreah spoke.
"Who?" she asked.
"I don't know. But we need to get you out of here," and just then, Ser Jorah rushed into her chambers.
"Ser Jorah," she called out weakly, and the man was quick to rush to her side.
"You need to come with me, Khaleesi," he barked, and she knew well that the man would never dare harm her.
"Drogo?" she asked for her lord husband, and the words clearly pained the knight.
"Khal Drogo is a great warrior. He can fight his battles himself...," and he could.
"Please," she begged, and the man was hesitant but he gave her a subtle nod.
"I will take you to him," he promised, and so Doreah lent Daenerys her support, as they walked out of the tent and there she saw Irri and Jhiqui lying on the ground, and their throats had been slit open and when she looked up she saw Unsullied killing the Khalasar.
But the Khalasar was huge, and the usullied numbered some five thousand or so. Even with the element of surprise, the unsullied should have been slaughtered easily.
"The unsullied?" Doreah noticed, just like her.
"These are your brother's men," Doreah spoke, as Daenerys shook her head.
"No," she retorted as dread filled her heart, and she cursed herself for not voicing out her concerns earlier.
"They came with that man from Kingslanding," and she looked into Ser Jorah's eyes.
"These are Lord Baelish's men," and if they were attacking the Khalsar, then that could mean only one thing.
"He has betrayed us," and she remembered Illyrio's words, on how he had already betrayed one King.
"AGHHHHHHH!" and suddenly a loud roar cut through the clearing, and even at such distance she could recognise that voice in an instant.
"Drogo," she gasped, and her feet moved on their own, and she was rushing towards his tent, which was just a few years away, and there were fires everywhere, and the air was filled with the smell of death, dust, and blood.
The Khalsar was being slaughtered around her, yet she did not care for it. No, she cared only for her Drogo.
BOOOOM!
And suddenly a figure was pushed out of his tent, as Daenerys saw the place burst into flames.
"NO!" she gasped, but Drogo rolled out of the tent, himself, while some half a dozen unsullied came to surround him. He was injured, and two arrows had pierced his shoulder.
She saw him swing his curved blade to parry one of the strikes aimed at his face while he avoided the other, and cut off the head of one of the men with his other hand.
"AGHHH!" but the unsullied were unmoved by the death of their comrade, and continued to strike at him and she watched as two more of them joined their group, and struck a spear through his thigh.
"GAHG!" Drogo grunted and spun his blade wildly, and cut off the heads of two more, but the spears kept coming, and she saw another one pierce his shoulder.
"NO! DROGO!" she roared, and his eyes landed on her. She felt their eyes meet, as his face shifted as he tried to push through the men surrounding him.
"Khaleesi," Ser Jorah came and pulled her back, just as an arrow cut through the air.
"GAHHHH!" Drogo continued to struggle but he was helpless, and his blood riders had been slain already. The Unsullied wasted little time in surrounding him, and his body was soon littered with arrows and spears.
"NO!" she screamed even as Ser Jorah and Doreah pulled her back.
"NOOOOO!" she screamed so hard that her throat began to ache, as she saw Drogo fall to the ground and the Unsullied prepared to unleash the final blow.
"Wait," and the command came from a rather familiar voice as Daenerys' head snapped to the side, where her brother stood tall and proud surrounded by a group of unsullied.
"Brother," she called out, but he was not looking at her.
"Hold him down," he commanded, and the Unsullied pushed the struggling Drogo down and it took a second for all of it to register and make sense.
"You!" she gasped at her brother.
"You did this," she realised, and Viserys smirked as he finally turned towards her.
"Of course I did. Who else but the Dragon would have the courage to put down the famous Khal Drogo," and her heart sank as she heard those words, as Viserys walked up to Drogo.
"Marrying you off to these barbarians was a mistake," Viserys snarled as he walked towards Drogo, and it took six Unsullied men to just keep him down.
"I was promised an army for your hand, yet all I received in return were insults," and her brother now stood a few steps away from Drogo, and the man from Kingslanding stood behind him.
"You traitorous cur! You are no dragon! You are nothing more than a snivelling rat!" Drogo insulted him in Dothraki.
"Come and face me like a man!" Drogo demanded.
"Even their language is primitive," Viserys insulted, and his intentions were clear.
"NO," she broke free from Ser Jorah and Doreah's grip, as she ran towards Drogo, but the unsullied stopped her.
"NO! Not Drogo," she begged Viserys, who turned towards her once more.
"Spare him," she implored, but Viserys was frowning now.
"It seems like you have forgotten who you are, dear sister. You were never meant to marry this barbarian. He is not worthy of marrying the blood of the dragon," and tears slid down her face as she shook her head.
"I carry his child in my womb," she added, and Viserys snarled.
"You will bear no child from this barbarian," and her brother was quick to cut in as he pointed towards Baelish.
"Lord Baelish has already arranged the moon tea needed to rid you of this...." and he took a second to find the right word.
"...pest," he finally finished.
"GAHHHHH!" Drogo roared as he tried to push back, but the Unsullied were well-trained and refused to let him rise. But she could see her brother pale at the sight of him.
"He managed to take down six unsullied even after ingesting all that poison," Lord Baelish added as he counted the corpses.
"You poisoned him?" Ser Jorah asked, and her brother nodded.
"We poisoned them all," Viserys answered, and the realization came in a second.
"The feast," she realized, and Lord Baelish was quick to answer.
"It was not truly poison, though. It was simply a more potent version of the Milk of Poppy," and that explained how the Unsullied had managed to slaughter the entire Khalasar despite being outnumbered.
"The Dothraki are great warriors, but even great warriors are quite vulnerable when they are asleep," Lord Baelish finished with a thin smile, as Drogo continued to struggle.
"Please, brother! Spare him," she begged again.
"He is a great warrior. He will fight for you," she offered, and her words angered him.
"Silence!" he roared at her.
"I gave you to him, so that he would give me an army. Yet he only offered me insults," he repeated.
"I often told you, didn't I," and his eyes glistened ominously in the fires, as he reminded her of his words from their youth.
"One must not anger the dragon!" and her heart lurched at the sight, as he turned towards Drogo.
"NO...." she whispered, but her words did nothing to stop his command.
"Kill him," her brother ordered, and the Unsullied plunged their spears into Drogo's back at once as his scream cut through the air.
"AGHHHH!" he roared, and as great a warrior as he was, the Unsullied continued to thrust their spears into his back, until his body was ripped apart.
"HAHAHAHAAAAHAAAA!" and in all that, her brother laughed, as he gazed at the carnage around him and ordered once more.
"Kill them all! KILL THEM ALL!"
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