Dany smoothed her dress nervously as she approached the temple, flanked by her maids and by her closest khas. She could see her silver filly tied to a post just outside the temple, so she knew she would be expected to ride at some point. She glanced at Irri, who nodded encouragingly at her before gesturing her to keep moving forward.
The heat made the buildings shimmer around her, the dry earth hard beneath her boots as she walked. She could feel her stomach turn in anxiety. The only thing that kept her feet propelling her forward was the thought that Drogo was waiting for her inside that room. Well, that and the threat of a jab between the shoulder blades from Irri. It was enough. She took a deep breath before the doors were opened for her, and she stepped inside the cool and smoky room of the temple of the Dosh Khaleen.
It was darker inside than she expected, and the smoke was not unpleasant to her senses. She stepped forward slowly, the pillars circling the center of the room obscuring her view. She hesitated a moment, unsure, but felt Irri's finger prod her in the middle of her back, as expected. It was like a spur on the side of a horse, so she blinked and tried to get her vision to adjust to the darkness as she walked ahead, her stomach flopping once again in her nervousness. Drogo is here, she reminded herself. He won't let anyone hurt me. She straightened her shoulders and raised her chin.
The middle of the room had a round, raised platform, and she could see the columns had faces carved into them. Her eyes met Drogo's on the other side of the room, and she could feel the anxiety and fear leave her body as he gave her a slight nod, the warmth in his gaze visible only to her. She smiled softly at him, and stepped up onto the round, low table in the middle of the room. She watched a few women standing around a fire between two of the pillars, very near where Drogo was sitting, and saw them toss something into the fire. A plume of smoke rose from the flames, a sickly sweet scent with it, and her eyes began to water. The women began to approach her, and Drogo sat forward in his seat to hear them better.
Dany stood very still as the old women surrounded her and took her arms gently in gnarled, ancient hands. One laid a hand on her pregnant belly, but Dany wasn't afraid. The old woman's touch was gentle and her face was kind. She muttered something to the other crones, and they all smiled at her then, truly smiled. Dany ducked her head, suddenly more shy than she'd ever felt. She looked down, but one of them touched her chin and made her meet the gaze of the old woman in front of her. Dark green eyes, so much like Drogo's, met her lavender ones, and there was peace in them. The old woman patted her cheek softly, and then turned to Drogo.
"Khal Drogo. You have taken your Khaleesi from outside your khalasar, outside the sacred herd of Dothraki. Do you claim her for yourself or for the Dosh Khaleen?" the old woman asked.
Dany panicked for a moment, not understanding the meaning behind the crone's demand. Drogo rose from his seat to his full height. "I claim her for all Dothraki to see. I claim her for myself, no other woman will ride with me, and I claim her for the Dosh Khaleen, may one day she honor you with her wisdom and truth," he said confidently. Oh, it's his part in this, she realized, relieved.
The old women turned from them, the eldest muttering some words and tossing a handful of twigs and brush into the fire. Red smoke rose, heavy and sweet. Dany watched the plume as it made its way to the round opening in the middle of the roof. She felt the clasp of a large hand in her own, and she turned to see Drogo next to her, holding her hand tightly. Everything depended on what the old women saw in their fire. Drogo was edgy and nervous, his hand damp in hers as he brought her hand up to his mouth for a tender kiss. She squeezed back, lacing her fingers between his and holding him tightly, locking her eyes to his. She held his gaze and smiled, trying to reassure him, then took advantage of the platform she was standing on and laid her head on his shoulder. She breathed him in, letting his familiar scent wash through her and overpower the smoke. His free hand came up and stroked her hair gently before traveling down to rest on their son.
Drogo held his breath as the eldest woman approached them again. "We have seen your son in the fire and smoke. We will sing of him after the heart ceremony. You have chosen your Khaleesi well, Khal Drogo. She is your One."
He grinned at her then, and lifted her easily in his arms, carrying her outside. She blinked against the bright sunlight, and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck as he walked, his steps long and purposeful.
"Where are we going?" she whispered.
"Home, Khaleesi. We're going home. I need sleep, and I need you," Drogo answered her, pulling her tighter against him. She sighed in contentment and pressed her face to his neck, content to breathe him in as he carried her home.
"You spoil me by carrying me in the heat," she said softly.
"You're mine to carry," he said simply, ducking into the cool darkness of their home. He set her down on her feet gently, then took her hand. He led her to the dark bedroom, and pulled her down to lay next to him on the bed. "We have a few hours to sleep," he said quietly. "Then we have our parts to do." He reached around her, and pulled the long sash at the back, releasing her from the dress. She smiled up at him for a moment, then her smile spread to a grin.
"Last time you did that . . . "
"Shh, don't talk about that," he answered gently, her husband loving in that moment. "You couldn't have smiled then as you are now." He spoke as though he understood her better, and then kissed her temple as he pulled the dress down her arms, and then let her push it down her legs and feet. Nude and still sweetly scented from her bath that morning, she pressed herself close to his warm skin. He buried his nose in her hair, inhaling a deep lungful of her perfumed hair. "Tomorrow, you will smell sweeter still," he whispered. "More like you instead of perfume."
She smiled as she pressed her face into his unyielding chest. His arms squeezed her tightly, but soon grew lax as he fell asleep. Dany wasn't the least bit tired, but it was more than pleasant to take this time to be held and rest her body. Rhaego fluttered within her, and suddenly her world became so full of hope and happiness that she could barely keep still or quiet. Her heart was singing. The heart ceremony suddenly seemed a trivial thing, something she could easily accomplish. She felt . . . strong. Powerful. Cherished. Her resolve to overcome the trial ahead grew a hundredfold.
. . . . . . .
Drogo left as soon as he woke from his brief rest, a tender kiss to her mouth and a light stroke of one finger down her belly as he rose from the bed. He was feeling the pressure now, and she tried to not feel disappointment in his disinterest in her body for the moment. Only a few hours more. Dany rose and dressed, carefully choosing clothes that the khalasar had seen her in many times. She wanted them all to see that she came to this place as one of them, a Khaleesi, not a foreign bride.
Too soon, she was outside their home, her silver filly tied out front by Drogo. She would ride to the edge of the city, where Drogo was waiting for her. He would bring down the stallion, and then the party would ride to the site of the kill for her to claim her prize. Still warm, she would consume the heart under the stars.
She mounted, and her handmaids followed behind her on foot. She went directly to where she knew to go, and saw Drogo had already started out into the high grass on his red stallion, moving swiftly toward the herd of wild horses nearby. She watched as he effortlessly tossed the noose of rope out, catching a dark brown horse. He was out of the saddle and on the beast before it could struggle, he brought the stone knife to it's throat, and the deed was done. He made it look so easy. She would have been envious had she not known how many evenings he had spent working on this very thing for her. She hoped she could make her part look so untroubling, thus bringing him greater honor.
She didn't hesitate, nudging her silver filly to a trot to join him. Tossing herself carelessly from the saddle, she approached him with a smile. He grinned down at her, and she seized their few moments alone to whisper teasingly, "Was that all you were worried about?"
His smile grew wider for a fraction of a second before growing serious again. "Your turn," he said softly, and then lifted his gaze from her to the approaching Dosh Khaleen and bloodriders. Returning to the carcass, he went in through the belly and cut up through the chest before retrieving his goal. Bigger than she thought it would be, the heart steamed lightly in the darkening twilight. She looked up at the stars briefly, calling on them for strength, and reached out with both hands to take the heart from Drogo, ignoring the slight shaking of her hands.
Silence from the crowd surrounding them. Hundreds of pairs of eyes were reflected back from the newly lit fires around the circle before they began chanting, Rakh, rakh, rakh hajh. Over and over. A boy, a boy, a strong boy. Dany locked eyes with Drogo, and brought the heart up to her mouth, not minding the blood that began to tickle down her arms to her elbows. She bit down slowly, unsure of the texture. It was tougher than she thought it would be, and the blood burst into her mouth as she tried to sever the bite with her teeth, but she did not let her gaze waver. The corners of his mouth quirked slightly, and he nodded at her slightly, a motion only she could see. She pulled the bite free of the heart and gave it a cursory chew before swallowing.
Her stomach roiled and rebelled. She took a deep cleansing breath, willing her body to accept the raw meat. As she took another bite, worrying it with her teeth to get it free, she convinced her body that this food was the nourishment that it desperately needed for the baby boy growing within. He needs this, Rhaego needs this, she chanted in her mind as she swallowed again.
Drogo could tell the instant she went within herself, her lovely lavender eyes dulling slightly, her expression firming into a slight frown. Although she still held his gaze, he knew she could no longer see him. He was glad to still give her something to focus on, however unknowing it was. He concentrated on her face, his heart beating in time with hers, willing his strength to be hers. It went beyond his longing for a son, as great as his longing was to have a son with Daenerys. This was about bringing the Khal of Khals into the world, saving the people and the lands from death. It all was on Daenerys' shoulders now, and he would give her everything he had to help her.
She took another bite, ripping it away from the rest of the heart, her eyes still locked on his. She was back in the moment, sharing it with him. He nodded more perceptibly, his smile of pride in the corners of his mouth. You are strong. You are everything, he tried to tell her with his eyes. You are mine.
Dany could see something glowing in his eyes. Something meant for her alone. She squeezed her hands together slightly. Halfway done. I can do this. Rhaego needs this food. It will go straight through me to him. My body will accept this, and give my baby boy strength to be born healthy and whole. I will hold him soon. Another bite, and another. Almost before she expected it, she held the last bit in her palm, and broke the link between her and Drogo to look down at what was left. A bit with two whitish parts locked together gleamed back at her. Before she could think twice about it, she had it in her mouth, struggling to chew the tough chunk of meat. She attempted to swallow it before she was ready, and without Drogo's dark green eyes to focus on, she gagged. She dropped to her knees, and the chanting crowd suddenly falling silent around her as she gagged and choked. Drogo made a movement toward her as she brought her hand up to her mouth, futilely trying to keep the meat from coming up again. She choked, forced it down, and swallowed convulsively a few times before taking a breath and looking up at the stars before bringing her gaze back down to his.
Slowly, she stood again, and the crowd erupted around her. She said the words she had been so carefully taught, the syllables falling from her tongue as easily as water flows in a stream, naming her son for all to hear. Drogo's bloodriders took up the chant of his name first, the Dosh Khaleen following immediately after. She turned so she could see the vast ocean of faces around her; the crowd had grown in size since she had begun her task. She breathed deeply, letting the fresh and cold evening air calm her queasy stomach, and she knew in that moment that it would stay down. She whirled around to face Drogo, her husband, her Khal, and her smiling face met his own grin as he gently lifted her off the ground for the crowds of Dothraki people to see her better, the Khaleesi who would birth the Khal of Khals, their future leader.
She clung to his neck, and he gave a short laugh as the blood from her arms and chest smeared onto his bare chest. His hands were coated up to his shoulders already, so he didn't mind. He carried her to her waiting horse, and they rode side by side to the shore of the great lake, the Womb of the World, for her to bathe and wash away the blood of the stallion. He lifted her down off the filly and set her down gently at the very edge of the water, and took the hem of her vest, helping her remove her clothes. Tossing them aside, he reached out and stroked their growing son before she stepped into the cold water to rinse off.
Goosebumps immediately prickled her skin, but she waded into the water up to her waist, mud squishing between her toes. The vast lake was said to be bottomless, but she could feel the earth solidly beneath her feet, the roots of reeds and grasses between her toes. This was the lake that the Great Stallion was said to have come from, riding the first horse, and began populating the land with his herd. She scooped water and rubbed away all the blood from her skin, gasping at the cold water as she did. As soon as she washed everything away, she returned to the bank where all the people were standing around with large branches in flames, waiting for her. Her handmaids were waiting with a blanket, but Drogo approached her first, lifting her up. He quickly unlaced his pants, and she grabbed him around the neck, waiting for him to finish his part in this ceremony. He gently penetrated her, easing her down onto him, and thrust into her once, twice, and a hard third time before groaning out and pulsing within her. She buried her face in his neck, accepting and submitting to him in front of the khalasar and the Dosh Khaleen, knowing he would make this up to her once they were alone. There were rules and traditions to follow here.
Once dried and dressed in clean clothes, she was tenderly lifted back into her saddle, Drogo swinging up on his red beside her. She followed close behind him, back to the temple that they had visited in only a short half-day's time ago. It was now surrounded by members of the khalasar, chanting Rhaego's name, shouting out crude but complimentary words about her growing belly and the strong son within. She blushed despite her familiarity with the ways of Drogo's bloodriders, and let Drogo lead her in the massive wood and leather tent after he lifted her down off her silver filly once more.
She was led to the raised dais on one side of the large room, Drogo sitting in the high seat some distance from her, the father of honor at this feast. She settled in her place, filled with soft cushions and low couches around her for her handmaids and special guests to Rhaego's feast. She relaxed back in the cushions, letting her stomach settle a bit more as she rested. Many people began joining them in the room, finding their own places at low tables and the spread out cushions on the hard floor. Khal Jommo entered into this rowdy, loud room, and everyone was suddenly subdued. He approached Drogo and his closest bloodriders on the dais, and he stopped in front of him, drawing up his full height to show his respect. Slowly, he loosened his belt, and took his empty arakh sheath off the belt, holding it up for a moment, then offered it to her husband, Khal Drogo.