» 10/1/2020 - ivar x targaryen oc «
In the great City of Pentos, inside of the Magister's extravagant mansion, there was a young princess. Her hair, silver and silky, tumbling down her slim back in loose strands and untangled braids. She barely re...
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The day of the wedding came at last.
The ceremony began at dawn and continued until dusk, and all Visenya could think about during the whole day of drinking, feasting, and fighting was how much she despised Viserys today. Not once has she hated her brother this much. He had married off their little sister to a world of fear and barbaric splendour in a dirty field beyond the walls of Pentos. His excuse was that the Dothraki believed that all things of importance in a man's life must be done beneath the open sky, but Visenya knew better. She knew her brother could care less about the people he calls savages. He just wanted their sister's wedding to not outshine himself.
Visenya had a dream last night. She had seen Viserys beating Daenerys, hurting her. She was naked, clumsy with fear. Daenerys tried to run from him, but for some reason Viserys never let go of his grip on her. "You woke the dragon," he screamed as he kicked her. "You woke the dragon; you woke the dragon." Much to her horror, Visenya looked down herself to notice that her inner thighs were slick with blood and other fluids as she lay helplessly in a bed nearby. When the dream was over, Visenya bolted up with a scream when she awoke this morning. Nobody had heard her, thankfully, and it was only a nightmare.
Visenya sat the ceremony since dawn, continuing to dark. An endless day of foreign, Dothraki traditions. A mighty earthen ramp had been raised amid the grass palaces, and there Daenerys was seated beside the Khal, above the seething sea of Dothraki.
Looking over the crowd, Visenya was coming close to being frightened. Women wore painted leather vests over bare chests and horsehair leggings cinched by bronze medallion belts. The warriors greased their long braids with fat from the rendering pits. They gorged themselves on horseflesh roasted with honey and spices, drank themselves blind on fermented mare's milk and Illyrio's finest wines, and spat jests at each other across the fires, their voices harsh and alien in Visenya's ears.
Viserys sat beside her with Illyrio on his left. They were not too far down from Daenerys, seated on some cushioned chairs. Visenya had very much wanted to be there beside her sister, comforting her. She must feel so alone and scared up there beside her new, older husband. Visenya could practically see the tears prickling in Daenerys' eyes from where she sat. Her sister was strong, however. Visenya told her sister to smile, so that is what Daenerys did.
Anger burned brightly in Viserys' lilac eyes. He did not like sitting beneath Daenerys, and he fumed when the slaves offered each dish first to the Khal and his new bride and served him 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.
Much to her horror, Visenya saw her first man die when the sun was only a quarter of the way up in the sky. Drums were beating traditional Dothraki music as some of the women danced for the Khal. As warriors watched them dancing, one of them finally grabbed a dancer by the arm, pushed her to the ground, and mounted her right there, as a stallion mounts a mare. Illyrio warned them that this might happen. "The Dothraki mate like the animals in their herds. There is no privacy in a khalasar, and they do not understand sin or shame like we do."
