POV: Vermax, Pentos
That fucking piece of shit was touching her again.
I was watching through the window. My talons gripped the bark tight enough to leave marks.
Viserys held up a gown, purple silk that caught the lamplight. Daenerys reached out hesitantly to touch it, her fingers barely brushing the fabric before she pulled back.
"Is it really mine?" she asked.
"A gift from the Magister Illyrio," Viserys said. His voice was smooth tonight, pleased with himself. "The color will bring out the violet in your eyes. And you shall have gold as well, and jewels of all sorts. Illyrio has promised. Tonight you must look like a princess."
Princess. What a fucking joke. She was a prisoner dressed in silk.
"Why does he give us so much?" Daenerys asked. "What does he want from us?"
Smart girl.
"Illyrio is no fool," Viserys said. His hands were shaking slightly, the way they always did when he talked about his precious throne. "The magister knows that I will not forget my friends when I come into my throne."
I wanted to shit on his head from up here.
Daenerys said nothing. She had learned long ago not to question him when he spun his fantasies. My creator had told me about truth, that Viserys is nothing but delusional idiot.
He hung the gown by the door. "Illyrio will send the slaves to bathe you. Be sure you wash off the stink of the stables. Khal Drogo has a thousand horses, tonight he looks for a different sort of mount."
My talons dug deeper into the bark. Mount. He was talking about his sister like she was animal.
Viserys walked closer to her, studying her like meat. "You still slouch. Straighten yourself."
He pushed her shoulders back with his hands. Then his fingers brushed across her breasts.
I wanted to dive through that fucking window and fly through him, like one of my brother in black.
"Let them see that you have a woman's shape now."
His hand tightened on her nipple, twisting through the fabric of her tunic. She flinched but did not pull away.
"You will not fail me tonight," he said, his voice dropping to something colder. "If you do, it will go hard for you. You don't want to wake the dragon, do you?"
He twisted harder. She gasped.
"Do you?" he repeated.
"No," Daenerys said quietly.
Coward. Fucking coward. Touching his own sister like that, threatening her, breaking her piece by piece.
He smiled and touched her hair with mock affection. "Good. When they write the history of my reign, sweet sister, they will say that it began tonight." He left.
I watched Daenerys walk to the window and stare out at the bay. Her shoulders were tight, her hands gripping the windowsill.
For a moment I thought she might cry. But she did not. She just stood there, looking at the water like it might carry her somewhere else.
Somewhere far from this place. Far from her shit stain brother and the barbarian horse lord he was selling her to.
Another piece of shit who thought women were things to be bought and used.
I had been watching for weeks now. I knew what was coming. My creator had sent me to observe, to report, to protect her if necessary.
But watching was getting harder. Every time Viserys touched her, every time Illyrio smiled his greasy smile, every time someone talked about the khal like he was some kind of prize, I wanted to burn this whole fucking city to the ground.
I know waiting is the right thing to do, it will let her see true face of her brother and Illyrio, so she willingly leave her brother behind.
The slaves arrived. Two of them. An old woman who said nothing and a young blonde girl who would not shut up.
They filled the bath and helped Daenerys undress. The water was scalding hot, but she did not flinch. She just sat there while they scrubbed her skin raw.
The blonde girl talked the entire time. Drogo this, Drogo that. How rich he was. How powerful. How his slaves wore golden collars.
Golden collars. Like that made slavery better.
They dried Daenerys and dressed her in the purple gown. Put jewelry on her wrists and a heavy golden collar around her neck.
A collar. Just like the slaves.
The blonde girl stepped back, admiring her work. "Now you look all a princess."
Daenerys looked at herself in the mirror. Her face was blank, but I could see the fear in her eyes.
She knew what this was. She was being dressed up like a sacrifice for the altar.
...
Viserys was waiting in the entry hall when she came down. He examin her, "Stand there. Turn around. Yes. Good. You look…"
"Regal," Magister Illyrio said, waddling into the hall. His fat body jiggled beneath his silk robes. Rings covered every finger. His beard was oiled until it gleamed like fake gold.
Disgusting bug.
"May the Lord of Light shower you with blessings on this most fortunate day, Princess Daenerys," Illyrio said, taking her hand and bowing his head.
"She is a vision, Your Grace," Illyrio told Viserys. "Drogo will be enraptured."
"She's too skinny," Viserys said. His hand rested on the hilt of his borrowed sword. Borrowed, because the little shit did not even own a weapon. "Are you sure that Khal Drogo likes his women this young?"
"She has had her blood. She is old enough for the khal," Illyrio said. "Look at her. That silver gold hair, those purple eyes. She is the blood of old Valyria. She cannot fail to entrance our Drogo."
Entrance. What a polite word for rape.
When Illyrio released her hand, Daenerys was trembling.
"I suppose," Viserys said. "The savages have queer tastes. Boys, horses, sheep…"
"Best not suggest this to Khal Drogo," Illyrio said carefully.
Viserys's eyes flashed with anger. "Do you take me for a fool?"
Illyrio bowed. "I take you for a king. Kings lack the caution of common men. My apologies if I have given offense."
He clapped his hands. Servants appeared with a palanquin, ornate and carved and big enough to hold Illyrio's massive bulk.
I took flight and followed them through the streets of Pentos. The palanquin swayed as the bearers carried it through the darkening city. Inside, I could hear Viserys talking.
"We won't need his whole khalasar. Ten thousand, that would be enough. I could sweep the Seven Kingdoms with ten thousand Dothraki screamers."
Ten thousand, I don't have bigger brain like humans, but guess what he don't have it all.
The palanquin stopped at the nine-towered manse of Khal Drogo by the bay. High brick walls. Pale ivy growing over everything.
"It had been given to the khal by the magisters of Pentos" Illyrio told them. "The Free Cities were always generous with the horselords. It is not that we fear these barbarians," Illyrio explain with a smile. "The Lord of Light would hold our city walls against a million Dothraki, or so the red priests promise … yet why take chances, when their friendship comes so cheap?"
I landed in a tree in the courtyard and watched as they were announced.
"Viserys of the House Targaryen, the Third of his Name. King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. His sister, Daenerys Stormborn, Princess of Dragonstone."
They stepped into the courtyard. It was full of men. Dothraki horselords with their braids and bells. Sellswords from the Free Cities. A fat red priest. Men from Ibben. Lords from the Summer Isles.
Not a single other woman.
Daenerys looked around, and I saw the fear sharpen in her eyes. She was alone among predators.
Illyrio whispered to them, pointing out various guests. Bloodriders. Khals. Some knight from Westeros.
Then he placed his fat hand on Daenerys's bare shoulder. "Over there, sweet princess. There is the khal himself."
I turned my head and saw Khal Drogo.
He was Tall with slightly darker skin. His braid hung past his waist, thick and heavy with oil and bells.
This was the man they were giving her to.
I wanted to fly at his face and tear out his throat.
Viserys grabbed Daenerys's arm and said. "Do you see his braid, sweet sister?"
He explained what it meant. That Drogo had never lost a fight.
"You will be his queen," Viserys said.
Daenerys looked at Drogo, and I saw her face go pale.
"I don't want to be his queen," she said, her voice small and breaking. "Please, please, Viserys, I don't want to. I want to go home."
Home. She meant the home with red door and lemon tree, she had told me about it many times. It was only place she had that was even close to safe.
"Home? How are we to go home, sweet sister? They took our home from us!"
His fingers dug into her arm. I could see the pain in her face.
"How are we to go home?" he repeated.
"I don't know," she whispered. Tears filled her eyes.
"I do," he said sharply. "We go home with an army, sweet sister. With Khal Drogo's army, that is how we go home. And if you must wed him and bed him for that, you will."
He smiled. It was the smile of a man who had already sold his soul and did not care.
"I'd let his whole khalasar fuck you if need be, sweet sister. All forty thousand men, and their horses too if that was what it took to get my army. Be grateful it is only Drogo. In time you may even learn to like him. Now dry your eyes. Illyrio is bringing him over, and he will not see you crying."
Daenerys wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Her face went blank again, that mask she wore to survive.
"Smile," Viserys whispered, "And stand up straight. Let him see that you have breasts. Gods know, you have little enough as is."
Daenerys smiled and she stood up straight.
…