Kerse rode along with Daenerys on his steed, while his bloodriders followed closely behind them, forming a silent ring of steel and watchful gazes.
It took a full month to cross the Forest of Qohor. There, golden leaves covered the sky like an eternal roof, and the tree trunks were as wide as the gates of a fortified city. The air was thick with humidity, resin, and ancient whispers.
Beyond the forest, the vast lands opened into an ocean of green grass.
That was the Dothraki Sea.
Even in autumn, the Dothraki Sea remained covered in green—endless, untamed, as if it refused to wither before the passage of time.
Viserys wore a cashmere robe so dusty that the three-headed dragon embroidered on the chest was barely visible. He rode in the middle of the group, constantly glancing around with anxiety, as if expecting an attack at any moment. From time to time, he cast looks filled with contempt toward the dothraki, unable to hide his revulsion.
Daenerys, who had remained silent for much of the journey, finally spoke, trying to strike up a conversation with her new husband.
"Where are we going now? When will we arrive?"
Kerse turned his head slightly and observed her beautiful face before answering:
"We will travel east of the Dothraki Sea. There stands Vaes Dothraki, the sacred city of the dothraki."
Daenerys then remembered the true purpose of the journey and asked, with a knot in her throat:
"And what if the result of the divination is bad?"
Before any major military undertaking, the dothraki demanded consultation with the Dosh Khaleen.
The Dosh Khaleen were composed of the widows of fallen khals. They served as seers, interpreters of omens, and guardians of the future. In essence, they were also the spiritual leaders of the dothraki people.
Kerse looked into Daenerys's large violet eyes, heavy with concern. He reached out and gently stroked her head.
"The god Thor Horse Head will protect us," he said confidently. "He prefers his followers to offer the blood of their enemies fallen in battle as tribute. We will use the arakh and the blood of the warriors of Westeros to honor him."
"Besides, I have long controlled the Dosh Khaleen," Kerse thought coldly.
Her husband's words calmed Daenerys, though a shadow of unease still lingered in her heart.
As evening fell, the group decided to stop and rest.
Kerse went alone away from the camp to hunt a hrakkar.
A man as noble as he, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, Viserys III of House Targaryen, should not be forced to travel surrounded by barbarians.
Illyrio Mopatis had urged him to marry his sister to Khal Kerse, but Viserys was convinced it had been a mistake.
"If he has lied to me, I will teach him not to trifle with a dragon," he swore silently, tightening his grip on the hilt of his sword.
Determined, he went in search of Daenerys to order her to speak with her savage husband and pressure him to fulfill his promise to help reclaim the Iron Throne.
When he finally found his sister, she was sitting on the grass, accompanied by her three handmaids. She wore dothraki leathers, and her long silver-gold hair was tied behind her head with an animal bone. There was something different about her: seven parts strength and three parts wild fierceness.
She was more beautiful than before… and also more unfamiliar.
Viserys's displeasure grew. He could not understand how a pure-blooded Targaryen adapted so quickly to the life of those savages.
"Daenerys!" he shouted in a shrill voice. "Kerse promised to help me reclaim my throne!"
Daenerys lifted her gaze calmly, not allowing her brother's anger to affect her.
"Brother, what nonsense are you talking about?" she replied serenely. "He said that he first had to consult the Dosh Khaleen to decide whether he would help you."
"How dare you?!" Viserys roared. "How dare you make your king wait?!"
He paused and forced a twisted smile.
"Then I will have to give you to someone else in exchange for his support. Someone who will truly help us reclaim the Iron Throne!"
Daenerys's eyes widened, as if seeing her brother for the first time.
"Dany, I am your brother, I am your king. Everything I do is for your own good!" Viserys exclaimed.
Daenerys slowly rose to her feet, her violet eyes shining with restrained fury.
"You are wrong," she said firmly. "I will be with no one else. He is my only husband."
Viserys was stunned.
Rage consumed him. His face reddened as he grabbed Daenerys by the neck and shook her violently.
"Have you forgotten who you are? Look at you now, dressed like a savage!"
Daenerys understood perfectly what he meant.
She was barefoot. Her hair was oiled. She wore the dothraki leathers and the painted vest given to her as a wedding gift. She looked like one of them, while Viserys remained covered in silks and mail.
Her silence only fueled her brother's fury.
Suddenly, someone shoved Viserys and struck him with a heavy punch. A powerful hand closed around his neck, warping his face.
It was Molegro.
After restraining him, he spoke in dothraki, looking at Daenerys.
"Princess Daenerys," Irri translated with a trembling voice, "Molegro asks if he should kill him."
Daenerys shook her head.
"No."
Molegro understood. He knew that Kerse's wife could not decide the death of her own brother. He then suggested another punishment.
"Why don't we cut off one of his hands?"
"I don't want him to be harmed," Daenerys replied, her expression conflicted.
After all, Viserys was her brother.
Finally, she said firmly:
"Wait until my Sun and Stars decides what to do with him."
At nightfall, Kerse returned to the camp with the corpse of a hrakkar.
Daenerys remained silent, staring at the stew he had prepared. Her violet eyes did not leave the bowl.
Upon learning of the incident, Kerse felt a sharp pain in his head. His first decision had been to kill Viserys: he was not useful, only an obstacle to him and Daenerys claiming the Iron Throne.
But he stopped when he saw the sad expression on his wife's face.
If he went through with it, even if Daenerys forgave him someday, the rift between them would never disappear.
"It's better to stick to the original plan," he thought. "When we reach Vaes Dothraki, I will find an opportunity to kill him in secret."
Perhaps Viserys would even thank him in the afterlife.
After all, he was already half-mad.
Death, in the end, might be a relief.