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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."
Visenya looked away from the coupling, disturbed by what she was witnessing. As men began fighting over the same women, a violent clash of arakhs happened. Clashing and whirling their blades, shrieking insults at each clash, nobody made a move to interfere. It ended quickly as it had begun. One man missed a step, the other swung his blade in a flat arc. Steel met with flesh and the man was gutted sliced from backbone to belly button, spilling his entrails into the dust. As the loser died, the winner took hold of the nearest woman – not even the one they fought over – and had her there and then. Slaves carried off the body and the dancing resumed.
Illyrio leaned in closer to address she and Viserys. "A Dothraki wedding without at least three deaths is deemed a dull affair," he explained. Daenerys' wedding must have been especially blessed then, for a dozen men had died before the day was over.
As the hours passed, the terror grew inside Visenya for her sister. She was afraid of the Dothraki, and she knew that Daenerys was, too. It was if they were beasts in human skin and not even human at all.
Finally, as they neared the end of the ceremony, men and women began to offer their gifts to the new Khaleesi and their Khal. Ser Jorah approached them and apologised for his gift. "It's a small thing, my princess, but all a poor exile could afford," he said as he laid a small stack of old books before Daenerys. The bride thanked Ser Jorah with all her heart. They were histories and songs of the Seven Kingdoms written in the common tongue. Visenya noticed this as she was given the books to hold onto for her sister. She had overseen all her sister's gifts as they were laid out on the ground next to her.
Magister Illyrio murmured a command, and four burly slaves came forward, followed by another set of four slaves, both groups bearing between them a great cedar chest bound in bronze. When Daenerys opened it there were piles of the finest velvets and damasks the Free Cities could produce... and resting on top, nestled in the soft cloth, three huge eggs.
Visenya gasped at the sight. "What are they?" she asked the Magister.
"Dragon's eggs," he proclaimed. He answered her question but was addressing the bride, instead. "From the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai. The eons have turned them into stone, yet still they burn bright with beauty." Visenya had heard tales of such eggs, but she had never seen one, nor thought she'd ever see one. It was a magnificent gift fit for a Targaryen. Daenerys was very lucky to receive them. Visenya didn't have the heart to be jealous as her sister smiled genuinely at the sight of the eggs.
"I shall treasure them," Daenerys promised.
Then, the Magister called for another pair of slaves to come over with a matching chest. Though this time, it was Visenya they laid it out to.
"My apologies for presenting gifts to your sister at your wedding, Khaleesi," the Magister apologised, bowing his head. "However, I think now is the best time as any other to honour the princess with this gift." Daenerys shook her head with a small smile, and then peered over curiously to see what was inside, but Visenya was sure that they both already knew.
Visenya reached down and opened the chest as the slaves stepped back. Inside, she had also been given another three petrified dragon eggs. Scaled and polished. To her, they were even more beautiful than her sisters. However, each were kept to the colours of her house, surprisingly. At first, Visenya thought they were encrusted with jewels, and so large that it would take both of her hands to hold just one.
Visenya lifted the one in the centre delicately, expecting it to be made of the finest porcelain or delicate enamel, or even brown glass, but it was much heavier than that, as if it were made of solid stone. Visenya turned the egg in her hands, and it shimmered like polished metal in the light of the setting sun.
The egg in her hands was a deep crimson (like blood), streaked with a lighter scarlet pattern. Unlike the two other eggs, this one was thinner, had smooth scales, and a bit more oval shaped. Strange, but she had never seen a dragon egg before. It must have been a different subspecies. Another egg in the chest, the one on the left, was a lush vermillion colour with unique creamy ripples and swirls. It remained rounded, but it was a tad bit smaller than the other two eggs, with a rough surface. Lastly, the egg on the right was red-and-black and scaled. Perhaps it was laid by the same dragon as Daenerys' eggs, for it was a perfect twin match to the centre egg in her sister's clutch. Visenya fell in love with her dragon eggs instantly.
"Thank you, Magister Illyrio," Visenya said, nodding to him respectfully. "We shall treasure these eggs always and remember the generosity you have given us."
The Magister bowed his head, stepping back as Daenerys continued to receive more gifts from the khalasar. During this, Visenya held her chest of eggs close, like someone would race over and try to snatch them away from her. Visenya felt truly connected to her Targaryen heritage with these gifts. Not only was she, as considered by her brother, a Valyrian beauty, but she now was in possession of three heirlooms fit for a Targaryen princess. Dragon eggs.
As the night drew near, the Khal had one last gift to give to his new wife. He left for a moment but when he returned, he was leading a gorgeous white mare to her. She was a young filly, spirited and splendid. The horse was an off-white with a mane like silver smoke.
Daenerys approached and stroked the horse's mane. "She's beautiful," the newlywed Khaleesi whispered.
"She is the pride of the khalasar," Illyrio informed her. "Custom decrees that the Khaleesi must ride a mount worthy of her place by the side of the Khal."
Visenya watched on as the Khal put his hands on Daenerys' hips and lifted her up, setting her on the thin Dothraki saddle. Daenerys clearly was nervous but took to the reins. Visenya was quick to get up and rush over to her sister. She knew what was going to happen next and she wished for nothing more than to tear her sister away from the mount and steal her away forever, to keep her safe and pure. But she could not.
Grasping Daenerys' hands with her own, Visenya kissed the back of them tenderly. "Be brave, little love," she spoke softly as tears welled in her sister's eyes. "You will be fine. You are a Targaryen."
Daenerys nodded, but a tear fell down her face and Visenya was quick to wipe it away. "Remember our mother's lullaby," Visenya said. "Recall our dream of one of us being a man, if you must. I love you, sister. Always and forever."
"I love you, too," Daenerys whimpered, leaning into her hand. "Always and forever."
When they pulled away, Viserys appeared next to Visenya, and he stared up at Daenerys stoically. "Make him happy," he whispered icily. Daenerys nodded to him, not meeting his eyes, and then gave her sister one last glance before she rode off with the Khal, who was not too far behind on his own huge, midnight-black stallion.
As Visenya watched her little sister ride off with the much older and bigger barbarian, she gripped the hem of her dress to bring herself some comfort, though it was all for naught. Be brave my little dragon...
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(1914 words)