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Standing in the courtyard of Winterfell, Stannis Baratheon, Master of Ships and brother to his grace King Robert Baratheon First of His Name, watched in rapt attention as his daughter, his only child, take on men twice her age in the training yard. Not a single man, but two men that were both twice her age and size. And she was handling them both with apparent ease…with her eyes covered. Granted, he could see that both men were not going nearly as hard as they could. But the fact that his daughter was able to dodge, parry, and block every strike they sent against her was nothing short of amazing. If only she had been born a boy, she would've been a perfect heir.
Taking his eyes off his daughter, his gaze passed over the others in the yard that called themselves 'acolytes'. The two eldest Stark boys, the heir and the former bastard, were sparring against one another. Their weighted tourney blades moving so quickly that even an experienced soldier like himself was having difficulty tracking their movements. But as fast as they were, they were still not the fastest. That honor belonged to the youngest Stark girl, who was currently using a staff as tall as she to fight against three full grown men. None of whom were holding back as far as he could see, yet they were still losing against the little girl. Badly. He knew that there were many women in the land who longed to become knights. His brother Renly often spoke of one such, Brienne of Tarth, who was said could best even the best of men. But, honestly, he never truly believed that a woman could ever match a man on the field…until now, at least. Watching the young Stark girl get the better of so many men, at her age…the gods only knew what she could become when she reached full womanhood. And he found himself pitying Lord Stark in having to find a suitable husband for the girl.
The remaining acolytes: the eldest Stark girl, the youngest Stark boy and the Lannister girl were all off to the side of the yard, sitting in a circle facing one another with their eyes closed. Meditation, his daughter had called it. A way to calm one's mind and connect with this…Force that apparently empowered them all and allowed this lot to use their abilities. Abilities that defied all laws of nature. Of all those gathered however, there were two notable absences. The Sorcerer himself. And the last remaining acolyte, a lad named Gendry who'd he yet to meet in person.
The two, along with the Winterfell blacksmith, had disappeared the moment he'd arrived with the two pyromancers in tow. The sorcerer barely even gave him a proper Lord's greeting before turning his back on him and disappearing without even a word about why he had need of the pyromancers in the first place. And now three days later, he was still in the dark about why he'd been sent north to deliver the men. He'd questioned Lord Stark, but the Warden of the North had been silent on the matter. Saying that he would not give voice to what they were trying to accomplish until they had succeeded. An infuriating lack of respect for the brother of the King…but he was unfortunately in no place to press the issue as he was but a guest in Winterfell. He'd even gone through the trouble of personally delivering a load of brimstone to the man, but apparently whatever he'd planned to do with the pyromancers was far more interesting as he gave orders for the stone to be brought to his tower before dismissing it completely.
"Lord Stannis." Turning his head, Stannis watched silently as he was joined by Lord Eddard near the edge of the training grounds.
"Lord Eddard," he replied as his host drew level with him before turning his attention back to his daughter, who had just used her strange magic to send one of the men tumbling onto his back a good ten or more paces away from her person.
"It took me some time to get used to seeing my daughters in the yard as well," Lord Eddard remarked, somehow guessing upon Stannis's unease. "But then, I thought of the times when my sons first started in the yard, and how I never batted an eye at watching them being knocked and bruised as they learned one end of the sword from the other. And I thought on why watching my sons in the yard seemed natural, while watching my daughters put me ill at ease."
"It is…unnatural," Stannis replied. "The women tend the household, and the men defend it. It is the way it has always been."
"Here, perhaps. But such is not the norm across all lands," Lord Eddard countered. "Nox is, without a doubt, the most well-traveled man I have ever met. He has seen and interacted with more cultures than you could possibly imagine. He's told us tales of more than a few cultures where the roles are reversed. Where men are expected to stay at home while the women guard the household. It was a…hard concept to wrap my mind around. But I have resolved myself to the thought that just because we have done something a certain way, does not mean that we must keep doing it. And these uncertain times…our ability to adapt, to change, will be our saving grace."
"Perhaps," Stannis conceded, not wanting to admit aloud that Stark had a point, especially as he had to fight to stand still as he watched his daughter get knocked to the ground with a sound hit to her stomach. "It is still unnatural."
Any further conversation between the two was put on hold as a loud commotion sounded from behind them. Turning, Stannis narrowed his eyes as he noticed the source. The Sorcerer had returned, and he wasn't alone. At his side was a young man, a young man that made Stannis want to shake his head to make sure he wasn't seeing an illusion. The young man looked almost exactly like his brother Renly, though he had Robert's build. 'This boy…He has the Baratheon look. More so than any of my brothers' children. A bastard? And seeing as how I know Renly nor I frequent such establishments…it is obvious as to which among us sired the bastard.'
"Nox, Gendry. Were you two successful?" Lord Eddard greeted the two as they approached. And while the man hid it well, Stannis could note just the slightest touch of eagerness in the man's voice and in the way he was looking at the two.
Stannis could practically feel the smugness coming off the sorcerer. "Indeed, we were, Ned," the sorcerer said, making Stannis want to grind his teeth in frustration at the man's lack of respect for his Lord. "Now that I've had a chance to watch how those fools were making the wildfire, I can duplicate the process using my own means through Sith Alchemy, and I daresay that the results will be a far more stable product. And as for what we needed the wildfire for, well, I'll let my acolyte here show you the fruits of his labors."
The young man, who could only be his brother's bastard, stepped forward with his head held slightly down to not meet their eyes. "Milords," the lad said awkwardly, holding out a sheathed blade perhaps a hand and a half in length.
Stark immediately took the offered blade and pulled it free, revealing a red rippled steel beneath. Valyrian steel. Although this blade was unlike the other Valyrian steel swords that were now held by the Kingsguard, curtesy of the sorcerer as part of his tribute to the crown. Unlike those blades that were smoky in color with the occasional red tints at times, this one was almost pure shinning steel with dark rippled patterns that was so…perfect that he was sure one would be able to see their reflection clearly should they stare at the blade.
"You've found a way to rework Valyrian steel?" Stannis surmised, knowing that the North now had a fair amount of the steel to experiment with.
"Not exactly," Nox smirked, clapping Gendry on the shoulder. "Thanks in no small part to this young lad here, and more than a touch of Sith Alchemy, that is the first newly forged Valyrian steel blade since the fall of the Valyrian Empire over four hundred years ago."
Stannis's calm demeanor fled as his jaw dropped. Valyrian steel was the most sought-after steel in all of Westeros and Essos. It'd been so during even the height of the Valyrian Empire, and even more so after its fall. Even the greatest of minds in Westeros had been unable to figure out how the steel had been forged. And now, now the sorcerer had once again made the impossible possible. 'Though not alone,' he thought as a crowd began to form around them as everyone marveled at the new Valyrian steel in Stark's hand, 'The sorcerer said that Robert's bastard played a part in its creation…When I return to King's Landing, I will have to do all in my power to see that lad is brought back under the banner of House Baratheon, where he belongs.'
Sitting next to Jon in one of the many halls within the great fortress of Winterfell, Ygritte resisted the urge to tap her foot impatiently as she waited with the man who'd stolen her for their time to speak with Lord wolf of Winterfell. It wasn't that she was nervous, well, not entirely. It was just that the Lord Wolf had suddenly called for both herself and Jon to come and speak with him without any explanation. And for the life of her, she couldn't think of any reason why the man would call for them. At least now that is.
The first time the two had been called to speak with the Lord Wolf had been after Arianne and all the other southerners had left Winterfell. And while Ygritte was not one to ever be embarrassed or ashamed of her actions, especially those beneath the furs, the lecture, or rather the lack of lecture, had managed to unnerve her. The man didn't raise his voice nor hand against either herself or Jon. He'd just called them both to his room and had them stand there in silence as he went about his work. It'd been infuriating. Just standing there watching the man work while standing next to a clearly uneasy Jon. Eventually she'd snapped and asked why they'd been called before him. To which he simply asked her why she thought he'd called them. And now looking back, she could easily see the trap. A trap that she'd run headlong into. She scoffed and responded that they were called to him because they'd both fucked Arianne, multiple times. She'd been fully expecting some southern lording lecture about maintaining one's virtue or some such nonsense. But what she had not been expecting was for the Lord Wolf to instead lecture them on responsibilities and expectations that were now upon them as they were engaging in such activities. It was…not a talk she ever wanted to repeat. Especially not with the Lord Wolf of all people! And by the redness of Jon's face, it was clearly not a conversation that he wanted to have again anytime soon either.
The second time she'd been called before not only the Lord Wolf, but the Sorcerer and Val as well was no more than a week past. Honestly, she'd been adjusting well to her new life south of the Wall. Though she did, at times, find it just so…easy. Almost too easy. There wasn't a daily struggle to find food or warmth or even shelter. And she was beginning to understand why so many kneelers truly chose to live as they did. But with that ease came something else: boredom. There just wasn't much to challenge her. Within her first moon at Winterfell, she gained a reputation as the best hunter in the keep, as well as the best with a bow. A skill that even the Sorcerer acknowledged her for and even helped her to cultivate further. And her time with Jon…well given that everyone already knew about the two of them she saw no reason for them to remain separated, so she simply moved her few belongings into his room within the Sorcerer's Tower. He'd protested at first, saying that it wasn't proper or some shite. But a single night, and day and following night, beneath his furs and he was brought around to her way of thinking on the matter.
But within a moon, she was bored. Time with Jon was beyond pleasurable, and she was not about to leave him. And showing up the fancy kneelers in the yard with her bow was always good for a laugh. But there just wasn't anything to challenge her. She'd even given up and decided to attend…lessons with Jon and his siblings and the others. But by the gods…they were beyond boring and yet challenging at the same time! Boring because there was nothing but thinking to do, and challenging cause, well…she didn't know how to read or of the things even the youngest wolf pup was able to do. She'd nearly given up after the first lesson, but she didn't. She wouldn't let some children kneelers think they were better than her. So, despite being utterly bored most of the time and having far more troubles than the others, Ygritte did her best to sit through at least every other lesson Jon and the others sat through.
Which of course was how she ended up getting in such deep shite. It'd been while Jon and the others were at a lesson she'd decided not to go to that she found herself in the Sorcerer's library. With nothing better to do, she wandered the shelves, trying to make sense of the strange books and crystals the man had lining the shelves. But when she came upon a set of chairs surrounding a small table, she stopped her wandering. Sitting on the center of the small table was the strange ring-and-chain thing that Jon and Arianne were constantly talking about. Apparently, the two had managed to create another one, the one which Arianne always wore. And apparently it was what helped her to control her magic. Her curiosity getting the better of her, Ygritte picked up the ring-and-chain piece and slid it over her arm, securing it to her wrist and slipping the ring on her hand. The moment she did, she immediately felt something…strange. Like there was something within her, a beast that'd been awoken and wanted to be let out. And in a moment of stupidity, which even she would admit to, she concentrated on the strange feeling while waving her hand towards one of the candles in the room. And that was when everything went to the hells. The flame of the candle burst into a wildfire and immediately caught some of the shelves on fire!
She couldn't really remember too well what happened after that. She remembered screaming, or maybe it was someone else. But the next she knew, the Sorcerer, Jon, and all the others were running into the room trying to put out the flames while saving everything they could from being destroyed. Once the flames had died down, she'd been taken to task…hard. Lord Stark had yelled at her, his eyes those of a wolf the entire time. Val had quietly condemned her stupidity for using something she knew nothing about. And the Sorcerer…he'd made her life a living hell for days. It would've been one thing if he'd pushed her in the yard to the point where she fell from exhaustion. She could live with that. But, no, the man had found a new hell to put her through. She'd been forced to sit in the gods damned library with no reprieve save to relieve herself or to sleep. And while she was there, she was expected to…write from the books that'd been damaged by the fire. Copying the books, the Sorcerer had said, so that they would still be useable. They'd had the dark-skinned girl that the eldest wolf pup fancied watch over her. By the gods, the woman was unbearable! If she didn't like a single character Ygritte wrote out, she would make her redo the whole damn book! Even if she'd been working all day on it! And now that her…punishment was finally at an end, she'd been called to the Lord Wolf's chambers once again. Only this time she at least had Jon at her side.
"So…why is yer father callin on us?" Ygritte asked, growing more than slightly irritable at having to wait for, well whatever it was they were called for in the first place. "We ain't been caught fuckin by nobody yet. And I haven't burned down no other books or other shite since last time."
Jon colored slightly at her mentioning of their time together, which lifted her mood somewhat. She might be his, but it was still fun to tease him. Especially cause it was so easy to do. "I don't know," Jon answered. "But we're about to find out."
Hearing the door behind them open, Ygritte held her head high and marched into the room with Jon at her side. But her confidence faltered as she found not only Lord Stark on the other side, but also the Sorcerer, his woman, and Val as well. And if that wasn't bad enough, her eyes immediately caught sight of the blasted talisman that'd set the library on fire sitting before the lord wolf. Swallowing, Ygritte immediately jumped to her own defense, "Whatever shite went wrong this time, it wasn't me. I was sittin me arse with Talisa copyin those burnt books from me last fuck up."
"This is not about the incident in the library, Ygritte," the lord wolf said, raising his hand. "However, this does concern the talisman that you wore that day. And more specifically, your apparent connection to it."
Frowning, Ygritte watched in silence as the sorcerer picked up the armlet and held it towards her. "Put it on. But think of nothing when you do."
With only a slight tremble to her hand, Ygritte took the armlet from the sorcerer and slowly put it on her arm, making sure to think of nothing as she did so other than putting the thing on. But then the fucking sorcerer pulled out a lit candle and set it before her! 'Shite! What the fuck is the fucker thinkin?'
Stepping back, the Sorcerer turned his eye-covered face towards her. "This time do not let your fear get the better of you. Focus on the flame before you. And command the flame to rise just a hand's width into the air. Do not doubt. Do not question. Command the flame."
Swallowing, Ygritte felt the same beast within her rage to life, demanding to be let out. 'Shut the fuck up!' she screamed at the beast, which amazingly seemed to work as whatever the fuck it was within her immediately quieted. Holding her hand out towards the flame, she tried to copy what she'd seen the others the sorcerer taught do during their exercises with their magic. But the flame didn't rise. It just sat there on the candle, mocking her by staying put. 'Come on, you fuckin little cunt flame! Fuckin mo – ah shite!'
The flame didn't rise, it jumped into the air just like before in the library. Only this time she was ready…or at least more ready than the last time. 'Stop!' she screamed in her mind. And the flame…stopped. "What in da hells…" she murmured, staring in awe at the flame dancin in the air with no wood nor cloth to keep it alive. Moving her hand, Ygritte smiled as she watched the flame follow her hand. 'Ha! I got fuckin magic too, Princess!'
"Impressive," the sorcerer called out, making her jump slightly as she'd completely forgotten where she was while she was playing with the fire. "Lead the fire into the hearth and let it die against the stones within."
Ygritte honestly wasn't sure just how she was doing this, but she wasn't about to complain as she moved the small flame towards the hearth and let the flames die against the stone. "So…Does this mean I got da magic in me and not just Jon's cock dis time? Or did his cock give me me magic?"
The four standing across from her and Jon didn't seem to find her words nearly as amusing as she did, nor as embarrassing as Jon did. "Between you and Prince Oberyn, I'm not entirely sure which one of you has the more one-track mind," the sorcerer said, confusing Ygritte slightly as she didn't catch onto his meaning. Though that wasn't unusual. The man was always saying things that she didn't understand. "But now that we've seen just how natural you are at using the talisman, we need to discuss the best means for your training."
Ygritte didn't see what there was to discuss. "Just let me practice with the fuckin thing, just like with me bow. And if I have…problems, I can just ask ye or Jon here."
"If only it were so simple," the sorcerer stated. "Training with such powers in an uncontrolled environment without one who knows the specifics of your skill could be…catastrophic. And I doubt Ned here would appreciate you burning down half of Winterfell by accident. Despite Jon and the others being able to use the talisman, they can only use it to a slight degree and only with great concentration and effort. But you? You do it naturally, as if it were as easy as breathing. Which is a blessing and a curse. A blessing because you will be able to learn quickly. A curse, because as we've already seen, it is easy for you to loose control of your powers. There is only one other individual that we have come across that has had the same affinity for this particular Force ability."
"Arianne," Jon said quietly, though not quietly enough as all eyes in the room turned towards him. "I – I mean Princess Arianne. She—She could use the talisman, and the one I made, as easy as Ygritte can."
The sorcerer nodded. "Indeed, she can. It's curious as to how Ygritte came to have the same affinity for a Force skill that was unique to the Rhyonish, but that can be discussed later. What matters now is getting Ygritte the training she needs without burning down most of Winterfell in the process. Unfortunately, Arianne left with the only book we have on the Rhyonish and their abilities. And seeing as how we can't just ask for the heir of House Martell to simply drop everything and come back to the North…"
Ygritte didn't necessarily understand where the Sorcerer was going with his words, but Jon apparently did. "You're…You're going to send Ygritte to Dorne?"
"Ygritte and yourself, Jon," Lord Stark said, speaking up for the first time since they'd walked into the room. "I have already written to Prince Doran. And he has agreed to host both yourself and Ygritte for a period of two moons time for Ygritte and Arianne to learn more about their abilities together. Jon, you will be going as well to help the two in whatever manner they need."
Ygritte felt herself grin like a wolf that'd just caught a nice large buck. A chance to see Arianne once more, with Jon. And to visit a land that apparently never sees snow even during the coldest of years…? Hells, she was ready to go right now!
"Now," Lord Stark continued, his face hardening. "I know of the…relationship you three have formed and of your activities. And while I would be a fool to demand that such things do not happen during your stay, I expect you both to hold yourselves to the standard of the North and House Stark, whom you are both representing."
"In other words, Ygritte, don't fuck up and piss off some fancy kneeler cunt," Val added. "Those south of the North view us Free Folk, even those of us who've sworn to House Stark, as little more than animals. You're to show them wrong."
"You can rely on us, father," Jon cut in before she could. "We will not disappoint you, or the North with our actions."
"I know, son," the lord wolf said, and it might've just been a trick of the light, but Ygritte could've sworn she saw the eldest wolf smile. "You never have before. Now I suggest you both make yourselves ready and say your goodbyes. The Sea Wolf is set to leave White Harbor in a fortnight's time. And they will not wait long for your arrival."
"There is one more thing, Jon," the sorcerer said just before she and Jon could leave. "I have a…package that I need you to deliver to Ser Wendel. The Sea Wolf will be making a rare stop in Pentos on it's return voyage from Sunspear. And there is something we have that needs to find its way into certain hands soon."
Ygritte didn't know what the man was talking about, but apparently Jon and even the Lord wolf did. "I'll see it delivered to Ser Wendel, Master."
"Good," the sorcerer nodded. "Now, you two best make your goodbyes. You'll need to leave by nightfall at latest if you're to make the journey to White Harbor in time to catch your ride."
Dany was nervous. No. Nervous was too light of a word to use. She was terrified. She'd known that this day was coming, had known ever since she fully realized what would be expected of her because she was a woman. Now the day had come. The day when a potential suitor for her hand would come to meet her. And not just any potential suitor. No, her brother and Magister Illyrio had managed to convince Khal Drogo, a leader amongst the Dothraki and the leader of one of the largest khalasar ever assembled. Over forty-thousand strong. Which was exactly why her brother had decided on him as a husband for her. His men. Never mind the fact that the Dothraki were considered by most to be little more than savage raiders. Skilled warriors to be sure, but still little more than savages. But her brother didn't care about their unsavory reputation. He only cared about their skills and the number of warriors Khal Drogo commanded. A number he planned to bring back to Westeros to take back the Iron Throne by force.
The only reason she hadn't gone immediately to Domeric Bolton and sought the first vessel to take her…well, anywhere was because she sought out Jon immediately after learning of her brother's and Illyrio's plan. Jon had lent her a sympathetic ear and had listened to her as she ranted and raved about her brother and Illyrio. About how her brother had all but told her that he would not only let Khal Drogo do whatever he wanted with her, but that he would allow Drogo's entire khalasar to rape her before letting their horses rape her as well if it meant that he would get what he desired.
Throughout her entire rant, Jon stayed quiet, merely letting her vent her frustrations. When she'd finally calmed enough to talk reasonably, Jon asked her a single simple question. What did she know about the Dothraki and about Khal Drogo specifically? Not what she'd heard, but rather what she knew personally about the people. The question had brought her up short. She'd heard plenty about the Dothraki, it would be impossible for one to live in Essos as she had and not hear about them. But she had never personally had any interaction with the infamous horse lords.
Jon went on to say that he only knew small bits about the Dothraki. About how they were horse lords who knew few rivals. That they were renowned warriors and that most of those who considered themselves 'civilized' thought them to be little more than savages. Then he followed that with saying that there was another group of people that were considered little more than warrior savages that deserved only disdain. The wildlings, or rather the Free Folk. While Jon admitted that there were some amongst the Free Folk that deserved the disdain and were all the bad things people thought about them, the Free Folk were just people. Just like them. He encouraged her to not let what others had told her to color her opinion, but to rather form her own. And he also added that there was a chance that, should she find the Dothraki not nearly as intolerable as many found them, that she would be able to forge her own path. One free of her brother and free of her family's past. That thought, the thought of freedom from her brother and the chance to forge a new way forward, was what stilled her from fleeing. At least for now.
And now, the day had come for her to meet this Khal Drogo. Her brother and Illyrio had had the servant's bathe and clean every part of her, which was beyond embarrassing. Then they'd presented her with a thin silken dress that, after putting it on, she realized did very little to hide what was underneath. After dressing, she was then led by her brother's firm hand out to the front steps of the manse to wait for the arrival of her potential husband and his blood riders.
"They say the Dothraki are little more than savages who take anything they please. From gold to horses to women. If they want it, they take it no matter what resistance is offered. And if they have to chase after what they want… Well, it never ends well," her brother commented idly, hinting at what might happen should she flee.
Holding her head high, Dany did her best to ignore her brother's taunts as she tried to calm her racing heart as she heard the cluttering of horses moving fast towards them. 'Do not show weakness, Dany,' she suddenly heard Jon's voice in her ear, making her start slightly. 'The Dothraki, just like the Free Folk, respect strength. Show them your strength, Dany. Show them the strength of the last daughter of the Dragon Lords of Valyria. Make it so that this Khal Drogo is not coming to find a bride. But rather that you, Daenerys Targaryen, are instead searching for a worthy suitor for your hand.'
Her back straightened as she hung onto Jon's voice like an oasis in the middle of a desert. All too soon, five riders wearing leather clothing that left their arms and chest bare rode swiftly into the yard. The five gave no heed to any in their way, leaving many to hurry and even trip over themselves as they tried to get out of the horses' paths. The five were…impressive to say the least. Their horsemanship was superb, even to her novice eye. But her attention was focused solely on the man in the front. The one she assumed to be her potential husband, Khal Drogo.
He was…impressive. But even that word was understating it. He was tall, impressively so even from atop his horse. His black hair was pulled back into an impressive braid that went down past his waist, a symbol to show that he had never once met his equal on the field of battle. And his muscles…by the gods she swore his arms were the size of her head! Yet despite his impressive size, he moved with a grace that she found captivating. That and his pitch-black eyes… Well…she supposed that her brother could've done far worse for a suitor. He was something that she could work with, provided everything went as she'd planned.
As the riders approached the main steps leading up into the manse proper, Illyrio calmly stepped down into the yard with a young servant girl following him. "Khal Drogo, I am Illyrio Mopatis, and I welcome you and your bloodriders into my home." Illyrio said as the young serving girl, who Dany now realized was a translator, spoke quickly to the riders in a tongue she did not recognize.
Pulling his horse to a stop in front of Illyrio, Drogo gave the Magister merely a grunt in reply before seemingly dismissing him as his black eyes passed over each face in the yard before coming to a stop on her. The moment his eyes landed on her, she felt her back stiffen on its own as he stared at her like she was a fine piece of meat at the market. But that look quickly faded, only to be replaced by something else. A look that while she couldn't tell what it was, it was a look that made her feel…good. Strong. Desirable.
"I present to you, Khal Drogo, Princess Daenerys Targaryen."
Hearing Illyrio say her name snapped her out of her reverie as she made her way down the steps of the manse towards the towering form of her potential husband. Drogo's eyes never left hers despite her rather revealing dress, something that she appreciated. As she passed Illyrio by, she purposefully kept her face passive as she walked forward until she was just beyond arm's reach of the Khal and his horse.
"I would have you dismount, Khal Drogo, so that I might see the man who would be my husband," she said, only to frown as Drogo stayed on his horse, which caused her to realize that the translator had not spoken her words. Turning to the Illyrio and the girl next to him, she fixed the two with a hard look. "Say my words to the Khal."
The girl looked unsure, but after a nod from Illyrio she spoke in the Dothraki tongue. When her request was spoken, Drogo tilted his head at her as if trying to decide what to do. Dany met his silence with one of her own, staring right into the man's eyes without blinking as the two, and the entire manse, stood in silence. Eventually, the corners of Drogo's lips twitched and with a grace that went against his size, he slid effortlessly from his horse and stood before her. Even now on equal footing, Dany still barely came up to the man's chest and she had to tilt her head back to look him in the eye. Keeping her eyes on his, Dany slowly walked around the Khal, taking note of everything that the man had to offer with her eyes. His muscles. His braid. His coppery skin. Just as he had appraised her, she in turn appraised him. Coming back around to his front, Dany thought she noticed the slightest bit of amusement showing on the man's hard face.
"Repeat my words, exactly as I say them," Dany called back to the translator, her eyes finding Drogo's once more. "I am Princess Daenerys Targaryen, the Stormborn, the Last Daughter of the Dragon Lords of Valyria. And I would know what makes you, Khal Drogo, greatest of the Khals, worthy of claiming my hand."
"Dany!" she heard her brother hiss as he no doubt started rushing towards her. "What the fuck ar—?!"
"Be silent, brother," Dany hissed right back, her hard tone clearly drawing her brother up short even though she never took her eyes off Drogo. "You may be content to offer me in marriage to whoever can provide you with warriors. But I have standards, brother. And the Last Daughter of Valyria can only be wed to the best amongst the best of men."
She wasn't sure, but she could've sworn she saw something shine in Drogo's eyes at the way she handled her brother. Without saying a word, Drogo reached behind himself and raised his long braid for all to see. "Your skill as a warrior is well known, Khal Drogo." Dany said as the translator behind her kept pace with each word she spoke. "There are few, if any, that could ever be considered your equal. But the Last Daughter of the Dragon Lords of Valyria deserves more than just a warrior. If it is your desire to claim my hand, Khal Drogo, then you will complete a challenge I set upon you."
One of the other riders behind Drogo said something, or rather grunted something, that Dany assumed was unflattering given the snarl upon his face. "What did he say?" Dany asked the young translator, still not taking her eyes off Drogo. "His exact words."
"He—" the translator girl started before stopping, clearly not sure if she should say what was said or not. "He…the bloodrider of Khal Drogo wonders why this…this bitch with nice tits thinks she can talk so amongst the great Khal Drogo and his bloodriders."
Taking her eyes off Drogo, Dany turned her attention to the rider who'd spoken. The man was smirking at her, as if daring her to try something. Raising her right-hand palm towards the man, Dany made a show of turning her hand sideways before slowly curling her fingers in and closing her fist. It started slowly, with the offending rider coughing, then looking confused as he rubbed at his throat. But as Dany's fingers closed in tighter, his eyes widened in panic as he wheezed, his hands frantically going to his throat trying to remove whatever was preventing him from breathing. A futile effort, and one that made Dany smile as she savored the look of panic and fear coming from his eyes.
"If I am nothing more than a 'bitch with nice tits'," Dany practically growled as she raised her hand, lifting the man partially out of his saddle and holding him in the air as his panicked horse ran out from underneath him. "Then what does that make you? Considering this bitch managed to unhorse you without even having to lay a hand on you!"
Her last words were practically a shout as she opened her hand, letting the man drop down heavily to the ground where he began greedily sucking in air. Looking around the yard, Dany noticed that the other three bloodriders were all trying to get their horses under control while staring at her warily. The servants who lived in the manse were also staring at her in fear, while Illyrio and her brother were staring at her in complete awe. The only one who wasn't showing fear or awe was Khal Drogo. There was no fear on the Khal's face, nor even a hint of wariness. No, the Khal was staring at her as if he had just found the greatest treasure in the world, and from the look on his face, he was clearly not going to go anywhere without it. The Khal spoke again, and it took a not-so-gentle slap from Illyrio to bring the translator girl out of her stupor enough to speak his words. "T–The great Kh–Khal Drogo says to name yo–your challenge, Princess Daenerys."
Dany felt something give within her. She was in control of what happened next. And that was exactly what she wanted. To be in control of her own life, to be free to make her own choices. "A day's ride south of Pentos, there is a manse under the control of one Magister Rabier," Dany began, giving the translator girl time to speak her words. "The challenge for my hand, Khal Drogo, is thus. You will prove your skill as a warrior by assaulting the manse with only yourself and your bloodriders. You will prove your cunning by making sure that your actions will not be known beyond those of us here. You will show your control, both over yourself and those you command, by leaving those who do not fight against you untouched by blade or flesh. And you will prove your desire to be my husband, by placing the head of Magister Idol Rabier at my feet."
Drogo's head tilted as the translator finished saying her words in the Dothraki tongue. He said something in return, and Dany waited patiently as his words were spoken to her. "The great Khal Drogo asks what this man has done to earn your mark of death, Princess?"
In truth, the magister had been one that deserved death many, many times over. During one of her visits to the Bolton manse, Domeric had told her about the man, about how he made his fortune in the slave trade. About how he kept his wealth and influence by catering to a very select clientele. How any slave who was purchased by him was never seen again. And about how it was well known that the man and those he served enjoyed torturing slaves to death. And the younger the slaves, the higher the price of their entertainment.
"Does it matter?" Dany asked to which Drogo merely smiled as he heard her words in his tongue. "I want him dead. And if you want my hand, you will put his head at my feet and meet my challenge. Do this, and I will consider you a man worthy of the Last Daughter of Valyria. Fail or refuse…and I will find someone who is."
Drogo's smile was…feral as he turned without a word and slid effortlessly up onto his horse. With nothing more than a grunt, Drogo led his bloodriders out of the manse at a quick pace before turning them south the moment they cleared the gates. 'You did well, Dany,' she felt no small amount of pride within herself as she heard Jon's praise. And she couldn't help but agree. Everything had turned out quite well in her opinion. While she would've preferred to keep her abilities a secret for a while longer, she knew that keeping them a secret indefinitely was not an option. 'I'll just have to deal with the reveal of my powers sooner rather than later,' she thought, turning just in time to see her brother descend upon her, his eyes wide in either fear, terror, anger, or awe, she couldn't quite tell.
"Dany!" he gasped, looking towards the gate then back at her. "Wha–What was…?! What did you – How – What?!"
Arching a brow, Dany regarded her brother coldly. "Perhaps you need to take a moment to remember how to speak, dear brother."
"I believe his grace is surprised, as we all are, at your…display, your grace," Illyrio cut in as her brother started turning an interesting shade of red as he fought a losing battle against the controlling of his anger and letting loose the 'dragon'. "I…was not aware that you were blessed with the magic of your ancestors. The magic upon which the Dragon Lords of old built their empire upon."
Turning her attention to Illyrio, she gave the man a level look. "Would it have mattered had I made my magic known to you both?" she asked, turning from the magister to her brother. "Would you, dear brother, have still made the threat to allow all forty-thousand Dothraki and their horses to rape me if it meant that you would secure their allegiance?"
Her brother sputtered, trying to come up with something to say. But Dany was past the point of caring. With her powers now known there was no reason for her to hide. Though still, there was a part of her that still ached at seeing the look of hurt and confusion on her brother's face. There was once a time when her brother was a true brother. One that protected and loved her, and she had loved him. But now, now the brother she'd once known was nothing more than a faded memory.
"Come, Dorea," she said, brushing past the two men and making her way back into the manse. "I have need of your advice."
Maintaining her composure as she walked through the manse was perhaps the most difficult thing she'd ever done to this point in her life. But somehow, she'd managed to keep her head high and her face emotionless the entire way to her room. But the moment the door closed behind Dorea, Dany let her mask go and she sagged. The weight of the day and everything that'd happened rushing through her, making her knees grow weak and nearly causing her to collapse in on herself.
"Princess!" Dorea gasped, as she appeared at Dany's side, the woman's soft yet strong hands keeping her steady.
"I'm alright," Dany nodded, leaning on Dorea's support as she calmed her racing heart. "Today was…taxing."
"Taxing?" Dorea marveled. "Princess, I have never even heard of anyone, let alone a woman, stand up to a Dothraki Khal as you did today! But I must say, you were fortunate that the Khal you exposed your powers to was Khal Drogo. The Dothraki are very weary of magic. But Khal Drogo is…different. He is like, yet unlike any other Khal to come before him. And if I may be so bold, Princess… He is a fine man and certainly not one that would be hard to bed."
Dorea had the right of it. Drogo was…quite a man. His coppery skin, his braided hair and his dark eyes…yes. She could certainly have worse in terms of potential husbands. "Dorea…I have need of your advice."
Her handmaiden blinked. "I–I don't know what advice I can offer you, Princess. But whatever you have need of me, you need only ask."
Nodding, Dany felt her face heat as she prepared herself for what she was about to ask of the woman that she'd grown so fond of. "I – I have heard that it is…possible for a woman to…take control of – of what happens between herself an – and her husband. While…in bed. I, gods…I wish you to teach me how to do this."
Dorea's face split into a wide grin. "I can do that, Princess. Before the Khal returns, I will teach you enough so that you will be able to bring even a man like Khal Drogo under your control."
For the next few days, Dany kept primarily to her rooms. In part because she wanted to avoid her brother and Illyrio. But also because she was learning as much as she could from Dorea about how to take control of a man in bed, as well as trying to learn as much as she could from Jon. If things went the way she believed they would, she knew that it would be sometime before she would be able to truly take a lesson again from either Jon or Lord Nox.
On the eve of the third day since she'd issued her challenge, Dany once again found herself standing on the steps of the manse. This time she was wearing a dress that, while still accenting her curves, was not nearly as revealing as the dress her brother had forced her to wear the first time. Speaking of her brother, he was currently standing just behind her alongside Magister Illyrio, clearly wishing to say something but for some reason was able to hold his tongue. She wasn't quite sure what had brought about his silence, but she was glad for it.
Hearing the telltale sound of horses quickly approaching, Dany pushed all thoughts of her brother and Illyrio to the back of her mind as she watched Drogo and his four bloodriders race through the open gate. Each of them were covered in dirt and blood, and two of the bloodriders appeared to have wounds on their person that'd been quickly bandaged with whatever they had on them. But her eyes went past them all and focused on Drogo. His hair was disheveled slightly, and his body was covered in dirt and blood, but he didn't appear to be wounded at all. In fact, the Khal looked every bit the triumphant warrior she'd heard of him to be. Urging his horse forward, Drogo stopped at the base of the stairs, a slight distance away from Dany. Watching Drogo reach into one of his saddle bags, Dany forced herself to remain completely unphased as he pulled out a severed bloodied head. Giving her a smirk, Drogo casually tossed the head at her feet.
Glancing down at the severed head, Dany fought against the revulsion she felt in her stomach. 'I must not show weakness! This…This is what I wanted! He…He deserved this. And worse.' "Magister Illyrio?" she called out over her shoulder while motioning down to the severed head at her feet.
"That…That is indeed, or at least was, Magister Rabier your grace," Illyrio replied calmly, as if the sight of a severed head did not bother him in the slightest.
Forcing herself to stare at the bloodied head, Dany calmly used her foot to kick the head off the sides of the stairs. With her path clear, Dany walked down closer to Khal Drogo. No words were said, and none needed to be said. The two merely met each other's eyes, knowing that Drogo had completed the task Dany had set upon him. Giving him a curt nod of acknowledgement, Drogo smirked wildly before wheeling his horse around and racing back out of the yard, leaving his bloodriders once again hurrying to catch up with him.
"Wh–Where is he going?" Viserys asked, clearly confused as to what had happened.
"There is no need for concern, your grace," Illyrio said, trying to placate her brother. "Khal Drogo is indeed pleased with your sister. Had he not been…well, we would know."
"Then, what in the hells happens now?" Viserys asked, clearly impatient.
"Now, dear brother," Dany responded, rounding on her brother. "I have a wedding to prepare myself for."