Published: November 6th 2024, 5:52:07 pm
“It’s happening.” Daenerys whispered, standing on the balcony, looking over at the city walls in the distance, feeling a sense of powerlessness settle in her heart.
It was as if something heavy made of iron was sitting where her heart was supposed to be. She often found herself forgetting to breathe the last few days as her brother made a decision that pushed her to the edges of despair. She was to be married four days from now, and they were supposed to sail from Pentos the very next day.
The only relief she had was that she was not sold to a barbarian horselord in exchange for an army, as suggested by Magister Illyrio. Instead, she’d be the queen of the Seven Kingdoms, a mantle previously held by her mother.
She had known the history of her family and, therefore, found no fault in an incestuous marriage. After all, her parents were siblings, and their marriage was accepted in Westeros. Her worries came from what would follow after her marriage to her brother. Her brother had gained the allegiance of a substantial army bolstered by the hiring of the Brave Companions. The only thing her brother lacked was ships to cross the Narrow Sea.
But now, even that was within her brother‘s grasp, thanks to Illyrio. She didn’t know how Magister Illyrio managed to amass so many ships for her brother, but the man came through with his promise rather speedily. It made her suspect the Magister of foul play.
Viserys, as usual, dismissed her concerns and seemed far too enthralled by the pace of his success. It was true her brother had never been this close to gathering an army and a fleet to his side. But it was that same pace that made her suspect the intentions of Magister Illyrio.
She could hear the telltale sound of clashing steel from the manor grounds. The men were training with their swords and spears. Thankfully, only a limited number of men were allowed inside the manor grounds, and the rest were camped far away. But still, there were too many of the sellswords of the Brave Companions near the manse, in her opinion. She didn’t trust them, especially their commander, Vargo Hoat. To increase her worries, her brother was in talks with the sellsail captains arranged by Magister Illyrio.
To accommodate all the guests for their wedding, captains of the Brave Companions and the Unsullied officers had moved outside the city walls into another manse owned by Magister Illyrio. This one was closer to the sea, which made it a pleasant experience. She could see the waves crashing into the shores from the cliff upon which the manse sat.
“Dany.”
Daenerys was broken out of her musings, and a shiver passed through her body when she found her brother standing behind her. She had been so taken by her thoughts she had failed to even hear his approach. She pressed her fingers against the cool stone railing, grounding herself against the swirl of emotions rising within her upon meeting her brother’s eyes.
“Viserys.” she demurely acknowledged her brother.
“Why so glum, sister? You should be happy for you to become my queen, and soon, we’ll have our revenge on those who betrayed House Targaryen.”
She could hardly recall a time when Viserys did not speak of this day as an inevitability. Since their exile, she had grown used to his promises, schemes, and fervent whispers that one day they would return to Westeros as dragonlords, with the Iron Throne restored to their family. But as the day drew closer, doubts gnawed at her insides.
She could hear the clinking of armour and the drunken shouts of the sellswords Viserys had hired for their army. To call it an army felt like an insult to the word. A ragtag assembly of sellswords and sellsails, each with loyalty only to gold, had been assembled by Illyrio. And although Viserys spoke of them as if they were the harbingers of conquest, Daenerys had seen enough of them up close to know that they were little more than mercenaries—men who would sooner slit a throat than swear a true oath. Illyrio had promised them victory, but the thought filled her with dread, especially with the Unsullied under her brother's command. The blood and carnage that would follow would surely be gut-wrenching.
She could see her brother was already celebrating, intoxicated by dreams of victory, vengeance, promises of gold and glory, and the twisted certainty that he was a dragon reborn. She looked down at her hands, pale and small, hands that were expected to hold up half of the Targaryen dynasty.
Her mouth grew dry as she wondered what the days ahead would hold for her.
“I know you’re afraid, Dany.” Viserys said sweetly, gently taking her hands in his, startling Daenerys. “Trust me, we will not fail in this. We will restore House Targaryen to its proper station.”
At that moment, she could see hints of her brother, who was sweet and caring. She had missed that side of Viserys since the day they left Braavos. She wanted to try and change her brother’s mind. But before she could do that, Viserys wrapped his arm around her shoulder and squeezed her shoulder comfortingly.
“I know what haunts you, sweet sister.” Viserys said with a look of understanding.
“You… you do?” Daenerys asked hopefully, her amethyst eyes glinting with hope and relief.
“Of course I do. It’s quite natural for you to feel this way. I know the remedy to this trouble, Dany.” Viserys squeezed her shoulder again with a slight grin.
“I have brought a gift for you, Dany.” Viserys clapped his hand once, and a girl slightly older than her in looks stepped into the balcony.
Daenerys stared at the girl with silver-blonde hair and blue eyes in confusion.
“This is Doreah. She once served in a Lyseni pleasure house before Illyrio brought her. She later came into my service, and now I will give her to you. Doreah will help you learn the womanly arts of love.”
It was then she realised Viserys had grossly misunderstood her fears.
“She is very good in the womanly arts. I can attest to that.” Viserys said with a lecherous grin that made Doreah blush.
Daenerys could only watch all of this in stunned silence.
Anyway, I leave my sweet sister in your capable hands, Doreah.”
Viserys left her with Doreah on the balcony with a stray kiss he pressed against her temple.
“It is a strange thing to bind oneself to a brother. Not even the old blood of Volantis practices such traditions, princess.” Doreah said gently, her sound as sweet as honey as she came to stand by her side.
“The Targaryens do. My father and mother were siblings.” Daenerys said absently.
Daenerys didn’t know what to feel about Doreah. On one hand, she pitied all slaves, and Doreah was undoubtedly one. But she was also weary of Doreah since she was Magister Illyrio’s slave. Viserys may have gifted the woman to her, but she suspected the leash remained in Illyrio’s hand.
Nevertheless, Daenerys decided to see for herself whether Doreah could be trusted. It was not in her to judge helpless slaves simply because they worked for Illyrio Mopatis.
“Tell me about yourself, Doreah.”
*****
The night was quiet, a rare moment of peace in Illyrio’s manse. Pentos sprawled out beyond the window like a dark, glittering sea, the faint sound of the waves and gentle breeze drifted into her chamber. Within her chamber, Daenerys sat at the edge of her bed, the weight of her new life settling heavily upon her.
But tonight, she was alone. She huddled her legs closer to her chest while staring into the cackling fire in the fireplace. She wondered what it must’ve been like for her family when they had dragons. Dragons were fire made flesh and the epitome of power. She liked to think her family were kind to the less fortunate when they were the most powerful. She liked to think she would be unlike her brother, Magister Illyrio and Vargo Hoat.
The door creaked open, and Doreah, her handmaiden, slipped quietly inside, a shadow of golden hair and soft movements. She carried a bowl of steaming water and a cloth, and her presence was so gentle that Daenerys felt her tension begin to ease. Doreah placed the bowl on the bedside table, her movements calm and graceful, as if she understood the thoughts that weighed upon Daenerys’s mind without a word being spoken.
“Princess,” Doreah murmured, offering a soft smile as she dipped the cloth into the water. Her voice was gentle, almost musical, and Daenerys felt a warmth spread within her, a warmth that she had not known in the cold company of her brother, the many servants in the manse or even Illyrio’s hollow reassurances.
“Thank you, Doreah,” Daenerys whispered, reaching out to touch her handmaiden’s hand.
The warmth of Doreah’s skin was reassuring, solid, in a way that nothing else had been in this strange life she was expected to live. For a moment, she simply held on, anchoring herself, finding a strange comfort in this simple contact.
Even though she had only known Doreah for a few days, she felt she could trust her newly appointed handmaiden. Maybe she was a fool to trust a stranger she only knew for a few days, but she felt Doreah was a good friend. At the very least, Doreah was a good handmaiden.
Daenerys closed her eyes as Doreah pressed the cloth seeped in warm water against her bare shoulder. The gentle warmth from the hot water relaxed her shoulders from the grip of an unseen weight. As Doreah gently rubbed the warm cloth against her skin, Daenerys felt herself relax.
“On the morrow, I’ll be married to Viserys, and in the next, we’ll set sail for Westeros.” Daenerys murmured, looking sourly into the fire dancing in the fireplace, casting long shadows in her room.
“A prospect you find intimidating, just like any maiden before her wedding day. I’m sure you’ll satisfy Prince Viserys in bed. You’ve taken my lessons well, Princess.” Doreah said gently with a reassuring voice.
“It’s not just that,” Daenerys said with a blush at the reminder of their ‘lessons’, “Viserys… he says he is a dragon. But the men serving him are here for gold, not loyalty. I fear they will scatter at the first sign of true battle or sell us out to the Usurper’s brothers.”
“Mercenaries are untrustworthy folk… the Brave Companions are doubly so. Their ill repute is known even in Lys. But that doesn’t mean you are in danger, Princess. The Unsullied are fiercely loyal to your brother, and they’ve never disobeyed a direct command from their master.” Doreah tried to reassure her, but it had the opposite effect.
“Westeros does not condone slavery. When my brother invades the Seven Kingdoms with an army of slaves, he’ll undo the good name of our house.” Daenerys whispered.
“I suppose war is not an easy undertaking. Perhaps your brother might free the slaves once he lands in Westeros. You could persuade him to do so.” Doreah suggested.
Suddenly, Daenerys sat there in stunned silence at Doreah’s suggestion.
“Do you think Viserys will listen?” she asked doubtfully.
“Till now, you were his sister. But on the morrow, you’ll become his wife. In my experience, men tend to be easily influenced by women in their beds. Prince Viserys is no different.” said Doreah.
Daenerys closed her eyes and leaned into the touch of her handmaiden, finding comfort in the company of her new friend.
“I pray that you accompany me and continue to serve as my handmaiden.” Daenerys said, going with her heart by trusting her new friend.
“If that is your wish, I’ll be by your side, princess.” Doreah murmured softly.
“Please don’t make a hasty decision. If you come with me, it must be of your own violation. If you wish to be elsewhere, I can arrange for...”
“I wish to come with you, princess. There is nowhere else for me to go and be free.” Doreah said immediately.
Daenerys smiled brightly at her new friend and hugged her tightly. Inexplicably, she felt a warm sensation emanating from her chest when Doreah hugged her back. In these trying times, she what she wanted most as a friend, and she was fortunate enough to find one in Doreah.
*****
Daenerys Targaryen stood draped in the silvery shimmer of Myrish silk. Her gown bore the distinct hues of pearly shades with hints of lilac, catching the firelight from the many torches lining the terrace. Around her, the air was thick with the scents of Pentoshi spices and exotic flowers, brought specially for this ceremony that would join her to her only remaining kin—Viserys, her elder brother. Viserys, pale and lean, had chosen robes that swept around him like shadows, adorned in black and crimson silk that shimmered with the promise of dragonfire. His face bore the same proud, stubborn look that Daenerys knew too well. Draped on his shoulder was the cloak painted with a red three-headed dragon on a field of black.
Her brother had chosen to use a Valyrian wedding ceremony instead of observing the traditions of the Faith. The only tradition they emulated in their wedding from Westeros was the cloaking ceremony where the groom gave the bride his cloak. It was a symbolic gesture of the groom accepting his newly wedded wife into his house by draping her shoulders with his house colours.
But Daenerys considered such a ceremony unnecessary, seeing as she was already a Targaryen by blood. The three-headed dragon banner belonged to her just like it belonged to Viserys. Nonetheless, she didn’t make a fuss as the rest of the ceremony was far simpler.
It was also fortunate that Magister Illyrio managed to acquire the services of an officiant knowledgeable in Valyrian traditions to officiate the wedding. They exchanged vows in High Valyrian, facing the general direction of the Fourteen Flames of Valyria. The ceremony came to an end when Viserys draped her shoulders with his cloak, and they kissed to seal their marriage.
The fiddlers continued to play their music even as the ceremony came to an end. Doreah was by her side, helping her walk with the long cloak on her shoulders and the long wedding dress. The guests were treated to a lavish feast, and many well-wishers came to them with gifts. Some of the famed Pentoshi merchants gave them ornaments, finely cut rubies, pearl necklaces, delicate silk gowns, finely crafted wooden sculptures and many other exotic gifts. There were guests from other Free Cities as well.
Daenerys sat by Viserys’ side on a raised dais, greeting their guests and accepting gifts graciously. Some Summer Islanders gave them exotic animals from their homeland. Dany was mesmerised by a peacock a Summer Islander prince gifted to her. Like that, many other gifts followed that also captured the interest and appreciation of her brother. It was mostly finely crafted ornate swords, shields and even armour.
Then, someone peculiar came before her, and Viserys fell to a knee.
“Your grace.”
Dany was slightly intrigued as most Essosi always addressed them as prince or princess. No one also knelt before them, so it was quite surprising to see someone who would. Also, the middle-aged man with light black hair spoke the Common Tongue without an accent.
“Who’re you?” Viserys asked, staring at the kneeling man suspiciously.
“I am Ser Jorah Mormont, your grace.”
“A knight!” Dany gasped with surprise.
“Mormont! I have heard of that name before. Where do you hail from, Ser?” Viserys asked warily.
“There is no need to be on guard, my prince. Ser Jorah shares your enemies.” Illyrio suddenly butted in.
“Truly?” Viserys eyed the knight with a curious look.
“I was the lord of the Bear Island in the North, your grace. I was forced into exile by Lord Eddard Stark.” Ser Jorah said with bowed head.
“Yes, and since then, this man came to my service.” said Illyrio. “He has been quite useful in gathering information about the happenings of Westeros.”
“Ah, yes! The Usurper’s dog! I’ll have you know that I plan to make some changes to those who rebelled against my father once I regain my throne.” Viserys said imperiously.
“As is your purview, your grace.” said Ser Jorah, “I don’t have much to my name, but I’d like you to have this small gift on this most auspicious day.”
Daenerys was the one to receive the gift from the exiled knight. It was a worn-out wooden box, and inside were two books on the Common Tongue and the many slang in the Seven Kingdoms.
“Thank you, Ser.” Dany nodded at the knight.
“I save the best gift for the last, your grace.” Illyrio clapped his hand, and servants brought forth a wooden box.
“I believe this gift should help you stay close to your ancestry.”
Illyrio opened the box, but Daenerys couldn’t help but gasp. Her brother was no better as he, too, was staring at the contents of the box with wide eyes.
Inside the box, Daenerys found three dragon eggs. The eggs were covered in scales of green, black and bronze. Her fingers brushed against it, she felt a faint warmth emanating from its core, a strange, pulsing heat that seemed to quicken at her touch.
For a moment, the world around her faded, and she was lost in the feel of the egg’s rough surface, the weight of something ancient and powerful cradled in her hands. This was no mere trinket; it was a relic of her ancestors, a symbol of the dragons who had once ruled over Westeros and who might yet rise again.
She looked up, meeting Viserys’s gaze, and saw a flicker of something more than irritation or greed. For just an instant, his eyes softened, and he nodded, a faint gesture of approval as if recognising the significance of the gift she held.
“It’s most likely petrified. But this gift is undoubtedly the most valuable for our family. Thank you, Illyrio.” Viserys said softly.
Even Daenerys had to admit the gift was priceless for their family, and she voiced her appreciation to their host. At that moment, her apprehensions about Magister Illyrio fled her mind. Daenerys’s mind drifted back to the dragon egg as the final gifts were presented, her fingers tracing its rough, warm surface. The feasting began, and the crowd grew louder, toasts and laughter filling the night air, but she remained quiet, lost in thought.