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DAENERYS
Daenerys Targaryen wed Khal Drogo with fear and barbaric splendor in a field beyond the walls ofPentos, for the Dothraki believed that all things of importance in a man’s life must be done beneaththe open sky.

Drogo had called his khalasar to attend him and they had come, forty thousand Dothraki warriorsand uncounted numbers of women, children, and slaves. Outside the city walls they camped with theirvast herds, raising palaces of woven grass, eating everything in sight, and making the good folk ofPentos more anxious with every passing day.

“My fellow magisters have doubled the size of the city guard,” Illyrio told them over platters ofhoney duck and orange snap peppers one night at the manse that had been Drogo’s. The khal hadjoined his khalasar, his estate given over to Daenerys and her brother until the wedding.

“Best we get Princess Daenerys wedded quickly before they hand half the wealth of Pentos awayto sellswords and bravos,” Ser Jorah Mormont jested. The exile had offered her brother his sword thenight Dany had been sold to Khal Drogo; Viserys had accepted eagerly. Mormont had been theirconstant companion ever since.

Magister Illyrio laughed lightly through his forked beard, but Viserys did not so much as smile.

“He can have her tomorrow, if he likes,” her brother said. He glanced over at Dany, and she loweredher eyes. “So long as he pays the price.”

Illyrio waved a languid hand in the air, rings glittering on his fat fingers. “I have told you, all issettled. Trust me. The khal has promised you a crown, and you shall have it.”

“Yes, but when?”

“When the khal chooses,” Illyrio said. “He will have the girl first, and after they are wed he mustmake his procession across the plains and present her to the dosh khaleen at Vaes Dothrak. After that,perhaps. If the omens favor war.”

Viserys seethed with impatience. “I piss on Dothraki omens. The Usurper sits on my father’sthrone. How long must I wait?”

Illyrio gave a massive shrug. “You have waited most of your life, great king. What is another fewmonths, another few years?”

Ser Jorah, who had traveled as far east as Vaes Dothrak, nodded in agreement. “I counsel you to bepatient, Your Grace. The Dothraki are true to their word, but they do things in their own time. Alesser man may beg a favor from the khal, but must never presume to berate him.”

Viserys bristled. “Guard your tongue, Mormont, or I’ll have it out. I am no lesser man, I am therightful Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. The dragon does not beg.”

Ser Jorah lowered his eyes respectfully. Illyrio smiled enigmatically and tore a wing from the duck.

Honey and grease ran over his fingers and dripped down into his beard as he nibbled at the tendermeat. There are no more dragons, Dany thought, staring at her brother, though she did not dare say italoud.

Yet that night she dreamt of one. Viserys was hitting her, hurting her. She was naked, clumsy withfear. She ran from him, but her body seemed thick and ungainly. He struck her again. She stumbledand fell. “You woke the dragon,” he screamed as he kicked her. “You woke the dragon, you woke thedragon.” Her thighs were slick with blood. She closed her eyes and whimpered. As if in answer, therewas a hideous ripping sound and the crackling of some great fire. When she looked again, Viserys was gone, great columns of flame rose all around, and in the midst of them was the dragon. Itturned its great head slowly. When its molten eyes found hers, she woke, shaking and covered with afine sheen of sweat. She had never been so afraid …tturned its great head slowly. When its molten eyes found hers, she woke, shaking and covered with afine sheen of sweat. She had never been so afraid …… until the day of her wedding came at last.

The ceremony began at dawn and continued until dusk, an endless day of drinking and feasting andfighting. A mighty earthen ramp had been raised amid the grass palaces, and there Dany was seatedbeside Khal Drogo, above the seething sea of Dothraki. She had never seen so many people in oneplace, nor people so strange and frightening. The horselords might put on rich fabrics and sweetperfumes when they visited the Free Cities, but out under the open sky they kept the old ways. Menand women alike wore painted leather vests over bare chests and horsehair leggings cinched bybronze medallion belts, and the warriors greased their long braids with fat from the rendering pits.

They gorged themselves on horseflesh roasted with honey and peppers, drank themselves blind onfermented mare’s milk and Illyrio’s fine wines, and spat jests at each other across the fires, theirvoices harsh and alien in Dany’s ears.

Viserys was seated just below her, splendid in a new black wool tunic with a scarlet dragon on thechest. Illyrio and Ser Jorah sat beside him. Theirs was a place of high honor, just below the khal’sown bloodriders, but Dany could see the anger in her brother’s lilac eyes. He did not like sittingbeneath her, and he fumed when the slaves offered each dish first to the khal and his bride, and servedhim from the portions they refused. He could do nothing but nurse his resentment, so nurse it he did,his mood growing blacker by the hour at each insult to his person.

Dany had never felt so alone as she did seated in the midst of that vast horde. Her brother had toldher to smile, and so she smiled until her face ached and the tears came unbidden to her eyes. She didher best to hide them, knowing how angry Viserys would be if he saw her crying, terrified of howKhal Drogo might react. Food was brought to her, steaming joints of meat and thick black sausagesand Dothraki blood pies, and later fruits and sweetgrass stews and delicate pastries from the kitchensof Pentos, but she waved it all away. Her stomach was a roil, and she knew she could keep none of itdown.

There was no one to talk to. Khal Drogo shouted commands and jests down to his bloodriders, andlaughed at their replies, but he scarcely glanced at Dany beside him. They had no common language.

Dothraki was incomprehensible to her, and the khal knew only a few words of the bastard Valyrian ofthe Free Cities, and none at all of the Common Tongue of the Seven Kingdoms. She would even havewelcomed the conversation of Illyrio and her brother, but they were too far below to hear her.

So she sat in her wedding silks, nursing a cup of honeyed wine, afraid to eat, talking silently toherself. I am blood of the dragon, she told herself. I am Daenerys Stormborn, Princess ofDragonstone, of the blood and seed of Aegon the Conqueror.

The sun was only a quarter of the way up the sky when she saw her first man die. Drums werebeating as some of the women danced for the khal. Drogo watched without expression, but his eyesfollowed their movements, and from time to time he would toss down a bronze medallion for thewomen to fight over.

The warriors were watching too. One of them finally stepped into the circle, grabbed a dancer bythe arm, pushed her down to the ground, and mounted her right there, as a stallion mounts a mare.

Illyrio had told her that might happen. “The Dothraki mate like the animals in their herds. There is noprivacy in a khalasar, and they do not understand sin or shame as we do.”

Dany looked away from the coupling, frightened when she realized what was happening, but asecond warrior stepped forward, and a third, and soon there was no way to avert her eyes. Then twomen seized the same woman. She heard a shout, saw a shove, and in the blink of an eye the arakhswere out, long razor-sharp blades, half sword and half scythe. A dance of death began as the warriorscircled and slashed, leaping toward each other, whirling the blades around their heads, shriekinginsults at each clash. No one made a move to interfere.

It ended as quickly as it began. The arakhs shivered together faster than Dany could follow, oneman missed a step, the other swung his blade in a flat arc. Steel bit into flesh just above the Dothraki’swaist, and opened him from backbone to belly button, spilling his entrails into the dust. As the loserdied, the winner took hold of the nearest woman—not even the one they had been quarreling over—and had her there and then. Slaves carried off the body, and the dancing resumed.

Magister Illyrio had warned Dany about this too. “A Dothraki wedding without at least three deaths is deemed a dull affair,” he had said. Her wedding must have been especially blessed; before theday was over, a dozen men had died.

As the hours passed, the terror grew in Dany, until it was all she could do not to scream. She wasafraid of the Dothraki, whose ways seemed alien and monstrous, as if they were beasts in human skinsand not true men at all. She was afraid of her brother, of what he might do if she failed him. Most ofall, she was afraid of what would happen tonight under the stars, when her brother gave her up to thehulking giant who sat drinking beside her with a face as still and cruel as a bronze mask.

I am the blood of the dragon, she told herself again.

When at last the sun was low in the sky, Khal Drogo clapped his hands together, and the drums andthe shouting and feasting came to a sudden halt. Drogo stood and pulled Dany to her feet beside him.

It was time for her bride gifts.

And after the gifts, she knew, after the sun had gone down, it would be time for the first ride andthe consummation of her marriage. Dany tried to put the thought aside, but it would not leave her. Shehugged herself to try to keep from shaking.

Her brother Viserys gifted her with three handmaids. Dany knew they had cost him nothing; Illyriono doubt had provided the girls. Irri and Jhiqui were copper-skinned Dothraki with black hair andalmond-shaped eyes, Doreah a fair-haired, blue-eyed Lysene girl. “These are no common servants,sweet sister,” her brother told her as they were brought forward one by one. “Illyrio and I selectedthem personally for you. Irri will teach you riding, Jhiqui the Dothraki tongue, and Doreah willinstruct you in the womanly arts of love.” He smiled thinly. “She’s very good, Illyrio and I can bothswear to that.”

Ser Jorah Mormont apologized for his gift. “It is a small thing, my princess, but all a poor exilecould afford,” he said as he laid a small stack of old books before her. They were histories and songsof the Seven Kingdoms, she saw, written in the Common Tongue. She thanked him with all her heart.

Magister Illyrio murmured a command, and four burly slaves hurried forward, bearing betweenthem a great cedar chest bound in bronze. When she opened it, she found piles of the finest velvetsand damasks the Free Cities could produce … and resting on top, nestled in the soft cloth, three hugeeggs. Dany gasped. They were the most beautiful things she had ever seen, each different than theothers, patterned in such rich colors that at first she thought they were crusted with jewels, and solarge it took both of her hands to hold one. She lifted it delicately, expecting that it would be made ofsome fine porcelain or delicate enamel, or even blown glass, but it was much heavier than that, as if itwere all of solid stone. The surface of the shell was covered with tiny scales, and as she turned theegg between her fingers, they shimmered like polished metal in the light of the setting sun. One eggwas a deep green, with burnished bronze flecks that came and went depending on how Dany turned it.

Another was pale cream streaked with gold. The last was black, as black as a midnight sea, yet alivewith scarlet ripples and swirls. “What are they?” she asked, her voice hushed and full of wonder.

“Dragon’s eggs, from the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai,” said Magister Illyrio. “The eons haveturned them to stone, yet still they burn bright with beauty.”

“I shall treasure them always.” Dany had heard tales of such eggs, but she had never seen one, northought to see one. It was a truly magnificent gift, though she knew that Illyrio could afford to belavish. He had collected a fortune in horses and slaves for his part in selling her to Khal Drogo.

The khal’s bloodriders offered her the traditional three weapons, and splendid weapons they were.

Haggo gave her a great leather whip with a silver handle, Cohollo a magnificent arakh chased in gold,and Qotho a double-curved dragonbone bow taller than she was. Magister Illyrio and Ser Jorah hadtaught her the traditional refusals for these offerings. “This is a gift worthy of a great warrior, O bloodof my blood, and I am but a woman. Let my lord husband bear these in my stead.” And so KhalDrogo too received his “bride gifts.”

Other gifts she was given in plenty by other Dothraki: slippers and jewels and silver rings for herhair, medallion belts and painted vests and soft furs, sandsilks and jars of scent, needles and feathersand tiny bottles of purple glass, and a gown made from the skin of a thousand mice. “A handsomegift, Khaleesi,” Magister Illyrio said of the last, after he had told her what it was. “Most lucky.” Thegifts mounted up around her in great piles, more gifts than she could possibly imagine, more gifts thanshe could want or use.

And last of all, Khal Drogo brought forth his own bride gift to her. An expectant hush rippled outfrom the center of the camp as he left her side, growing until it had swallowed the whole khalasar.

When he returned, the dense press of Dothraki gift-givers parted before him, and he led the horse toher.

She was a young filly, spirited and splendid. Dany knew just enough about horses to know that thiswas no ordinary animal. There was something about her that took the breath away. She was grey asthe winter sea, with a mane like silver smoke.

Hesitantly she reached out and stroked the horse’s neck, ran her fingers through the silver of hermane. Khal Drogo said something in Dothraki and Magister Illyrio translated. “Silver for the silver ofyour hair, the khal says.”

“She’s beautiful,” Dany murmured.

“She is the pride of the khalasar,” Illyrio said. “Custom decrees that the khaleesi must ride amount worthy of her place by the side of the khal.”

Drogo stepped forward and put his hands on her waist. He lifted her up as easily as if she were achild and set her on the thin Dothraki saddle, so much smaller than the ones she was used to. Dany satthere uncertain for a moment. No one had told her about this part. “What should I do?” she askedIllyrio.

It was Ser Jorah Mormont who answered. “Take the reins and ride. You need not go far.”

Nervously Dany gathered the reins in her hands and slid her feet into the short stirrups. She wasonly a fair rider; she had spent far more time traveling by ship and wagon and palanquin than byhorseback. Praying that she would not fall off and disgrace herself, she gave the filly the lightest andmost timid touch with her knees.

And for the first time in hours, she forgot to be afraid. Or perhaps it was for the first time ever.

The silver-grey filly moved with a smooth and silken gait, and the crowd parted for her, every eyeupon them. Dany found herself moving faster than she had intended, yet somehow it was excitingrather than terrifying. The horse broke into a trot, and she smiled. Dothraki scrambled to clear a path.

The slightest pressure with her legs, the lightest touch on the reins, and the filly responded. She sent itinto a gallop, and now the Dothraki were hooting and laughing and shouting at her as they jumped outof her way. As she turned to ride back, a firepit loomed ahead, directly in her path. They werehemmed in on either side, with no room to stop. A daring she had never known filled Daenerys then,and she gave the filly her head.

The silver horse leapt the flames as if she had wings.

When she pulled up before Magister Illyrio, she said, “Tell Khal Drogo that he has given me thewind.” The fat Pentoshi stroked his yellow beard as he repeated her words in Dothraki, and Dany sawher new husband smile for the first time.

The last sliver of sun vanished behind the high walls of Pentos to the west just then. Dany had lostall track of time. Khal Drogo commanded his bloodriders to bring forth his own horse, a lean redstallion. As the khal was saddling the horse, Viserys slid close to Dany on her silver, dug his fingersinto her leg, and said, “Please him, sweet sister, or I swear, you will see the dragon wake as it hasnever woken before.”

The fear came back to her then, with her brother’s words. She felt like a child once more, onlythirteen and all alone, not ready for what was about to happen to her.

They rode out together as the stars came out, leaving the khalasar and the grass palaces behind.

Khal Drogo spoke no word to her, but drove his stallion at a hard trot through the gathering dusk. Thetiny silver bells in his long braid rang softly as he rode. “I am the blood of the dragon,” she whisperedaloud as she followed, trying to keep her courage up. “I am the blood of the dragon. I am the blood ofthe dragon.” The dragon was never afraid.

Afterward she could not say how far or how long they had ridden, but it was full dark when theystopped at a grassy place beside a small stream. Drogo swung off his horse and lifted her down fromhers. She felt as fragile as glass in his hands, her limbs as weak as water. She stood there helpless andtrembling in her wedding silks while he secured the horses, and when he turned to look at her, shebegan to cry.

Khal Drogo stared at her tears, his face strangely empty of expression. “No,” he said. He lifted hishand and rubbed away the tears roughly with a callused thumb.

“You speak the Common Tongue,” Dany said in wonder.

“No,” he said again.

Perhaps he had only that word, she thought, but it was one word more than she had known he had, and somehow it made her feel a little better. Drogo touched her hair lightly, sliding the silver-blondstrands between his fingers and murmuring softly in Dothraki. Dany did not understand the words, yetthere was warmth in the tone, a tenderness she had never expected from this man.

r-blondstrands between his fingers and murmuring softly in Dothraki. Dany did not understand the words, yetthere was warmth in the tone, a tenderness she had never expected from this man.

He put his finger under her chin and lifted her head, so she was looking up into his eyes. Drogotowered over her as he towered over everyone. Taking her lightly under the arms, he lifted her andseated her on a rounded rock beside the stream. Then he sat on the ground facing her, legs crossedbeneath him, their faces finally at a height. “No,” he said.

“Is that the only word you know?” she asked him.

Drogo did not reply. His long heavy braid was coiled in the dirt beside him. He pulled it over hisright shoulder and began to remove the bells from his hair, one by one. After a moment Dany leanedforward to help. When they were done, Drogo gestured. She understood. Slowly, carefully, she beganto undo his braid.

It took a long time. All the while he sat there silently, watching her. When she was done, he shookhis head, and his hair spread out behind him like a river of darkness, oiled and gleaming. She hadnever seen hair so long, so black, so thick.

Then it was his turn. He began to undress her.

His fingers were deft and strangely tender. He removed her silks one by one, carefully, while Danysat unmoving, silent, looking at his eyes. When he bared her small breasts, she could not help herself.

She averted her eyes and covered herself with her hands. “No,” Drogo said. He pulled her hands awayfrom her breasts, gently but firmly, then lifted her face again to make her look at him. “No,” herepeated.

“No,” she echoed back at him.

He stood her up then and pulled her close to remove the last of her silks. The night air was chilly onher bare skin. She shivered, and gooseflesh covered her arms and legs. She was afraid of what wouldcome next, but for a while nothing happened. Khal Drogo sat with his legs crossed, looking at her,drinking in her body with his eyes.

After a while he began to touch her. Lightly at first, then harder. She could sense the fierce strengthin his hands, but he never hurt her. He held her hand in his own and brushed her fingers, one by one.

He ran a hand gently down her leg. He stroked her face, tracing the curve of her ears, running a fingergently around her mouth. He put both hands in her hair and combed it with his fingers. He turned heraround, massaged her shoulders, slid a knuckle down the path of her spine.

It seemed as if hours passed before his hands finally went to her breasts. He stroked the soft skinunderneath until it tingled. He circled her nipples with his thumbs, pinched them between thumb andforefinger, then began to pull at her, very lightly at first, then more insistently, until her nipplesstiffened and began to ache.

He stopped then, and drew her down onto his lap. Dany was flushed and breathless, her heartfluttering in her chest. He cupped her face in his huge hands and she looked into his eyes. “No?” hesaid, and she knew it was a question.

She took his hand and moved it down to the wetness between her thighs. “Yes,” she whispered asshe put his finger inside her.


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