Chapter 61
DAENERYS TARGARYEN
Thousands of miles away from the Red Keep where the people danced and dined in celebration, Daenerys Targaryen wept in sorrow, as her children were buried into the ground once more.
And it was twice now that she had lost her children, and though these were not humans. The three dragons that had hatched in the pyre lit for her brother and for her child were like her children. They were her hope, a symbol of power, resilience, and dreams long forgotten, yet now even they were taken from her.
To this day, she did not know how it had happened, and it only added to her pain. All she knew was that they had been fed their usual horse meat until suddenly they had collapsed dead, and with no healer in the khalasaar capable or familiar enough to treat them, they had clung to life for a few days before taking their last breaths, robbing Daenerys of three more children.
"How could this happen?" she questioned in between her sobs, as the eunuch stood by her side, and in this troubling time, he was the only person to accompany her, the only man besides himself that Drogo allowed inside her tent.
"We do not yet know, my lady," answered the bald man, as Daenerys.
"Some say that the meat was rotten, others say that it was poison, while some say that it was retribution from the Gods," and she had long lost her faith in the gods.
"Why would the Gods punish me?" she asked, with a weak cry as she turned to look at the bald man.
"The Gods took my son from me, they took my mother, my brother, my entire family from me, and now they would take even my three precious children from me?" and she gave a weak laugh at that.
"What harm have I done to them? What insolence have I committed that they continue to punish me so?" she asked, and there was no answer from the bald eunuch.
"I am afraid I am not privy to the thoughts and powers of the Gods, though I can say that I know of human treachery, fear, and nature. If this was not God's will then, you have many enemies who would wish to do you harm, who would wish to rob you of the very might that allowed Aegon the Conqueror to bring the world to its knees," and she would much rather deal with flesh than omnipotent beings that remained unseen and unheard.
"Who? You said so yourself that the Usurper is dead, and the Seven kingdoms are without a King," and that was the only enemy she could imagine who would wish harm upon her.
"Yes, the Usurper may be gone but there are many people in power there who would wish to see your family end in ruin, who would wish to see that no dragon ever flies the skies once more," and they would pay for this.
"But there are others as well," Varys, the perfumed man, added as he sat down beside her on the bed.
"Qarth, Pentosh, and even Braavos. There are few kingdoms who would look kindly upon the rebirth of dragon and the House of the Dragon," and she had more enemies than she could count, all for being the mother of dragons.
"Do you think it was one of these kingdoms who struck at me?" she asked, and the man looked her in the eyes, and she found the amethyst in them so familiar with her own. She had not looked at him like this ever, but now that she did, his face and eyes reminded her of her own brother, or was it perhaps the loneliness and the pain that deluded her into seeing a comforting face in a stranger?
"Speak your mind," she ordered as the man remained silent for a few minutes.
"I believe that the true enemy may be closer than you think," and she frowned at those words, as she pushed herself up from the bed.
"Who?" she asked, for she knew that one whisper from her and Drogo would rip them to shreds, that he would end them with the might of his entire kahalsaar.
"I cannot say for certain, but I believe that the enemy was someone from the Khalasaar itself," and she could hardly believe those words, for she was the Khalessi, and the dragons were her children.
"Why?" she asked, for what gain would they obtain from killing her precious little children?
"The Dothraki are complicated people, they are primitive in their approach towards life, and prefer to live in separate tribes, but your dragons threatened their way of life," he replied slowly.
"Your husband's declaration of going to the Seven Kingdoms, was a radical move one that may have enjoyed some momentary support, but I can assure you that there are many who do not wish to see that dream come to fruition, who plot against that dream so that the Dothraki may return to their old ways," and she had never thought like that.
"Is that why Drogo has punished all those people?" and as soon as Drogo had heard of the death of her children, he had all the people, servants caring for them hanged after questioning, even the men caring for the horses were killed, and hundreds of other men and women.
"Yes, Drogo for all his brashness and ruthlessness, knows his people, knows that this is not the work of a foreign enemy," and so he was trying to show his power, show himself for the powerful khal that he was.
"Then what should I do?" she asked, for she wanted to see the culprit punished as well.
"There is not much that you can do, Princess. While you maybe a Khaleesi, but the truth is that you hold that title as long as Drogo is Khal," and suddenly she heard screams from the outside, of men fighting and shouting.
She rushed out of the tent, and the crowd parted away as she saw Drogo sitting on his throne, as a young man stood in front of him speaking out.
"Do you not see what you have done? You have killed horses. You wish to travel on water, you have betrayed our Gods!" he shouted as Daenerys stood there, beside the throne, as Drogo glared at the youngling.
"Be careful of how you speak, son of Morro," he warned, but the young man was brash as he turned towards her.
"And all because of her. That witch!" and suddenly she found herself caught by surprise, as all those eyes turned towards her.
"You kill us all because of that white haired witch!" and Drogo was on his feet for insulting her, it was the same as insulting Drogo.
"You dare insult my Khalessi!" Drogo warned as he descended from his throne, and the young warrior did not back away and looked him in the eye.
"Aye! I do. You have lost your way! You are not the Khal we chose to follow, and so I, Morro son of Kieso, challenge you for the position of Khal!" and at those words, the people backed away, and the drums of war began to beat.
And as her heart began to thump in her chest with worry, it was Varys who whispered in her ear from behind, and reminded her of the truth that she had long pushed into the back of her mind.
"They will call you their Khaleesi for as long as Drogo is the khal, but one day his reign will end, and that day could come as soon as tomorrow, or it could come years from now, but that day will come and then you shall know the true barbaric nature of the Dothraki...."
0000
CREGAN STARK
The feast for the Royal Wedding was as modest as a feast could be. There were over a hundred dishes, and wine was plenty as he sat there at the head of the tables besides his Queen, his hand, and people from both their families.
Many lords came and offered their allegiance and gifts, as the rest danced and dined in front of him.
Cregan and Myrcella offered them their greetings, and accepted their gifts as the day's yellow light turned into the night's darkness. Myrcella herself grew increasingly nervous because of the bedding, despite his continued assurances.
"Cregan," she whispered once more, as she tugged on his hand as he leaned down.
"Yes," he said as she eyed him nervously and whispered as she covered her mouth.
"What should I do?" she asked, and he smiled and shook her head.
"Don't worry, leave it to me," he assured her again as a retinue stepped forward.
"I must apologise for disturbing you, your grace," and the Hall grew tense, as Cregan looked up and saw for himself just who it was.
"I offer you the heartiest wishes and prayers from myself and my brother, Doran," he said, and he smiled, as everyone in the Hall looked towards the table with peaked interest.
"Your wishes and prayers are well received, Prince Oberyn," Cregan repeated, and the man moved to the side as he presented half a dozen chests.
"To our new King and Queen, I offer some humble gifts from the beautiful and bountiful deserts of Dorne," and the gifts were quite expensive, ranging from traditional jewelry, dresses, tomes, blades, and other things.
"You have been quite gracious, my lord," Myrcella offered, as those dark eyes narrowed on her, as Cregan decided to intervene.
"I must ask, are those the famous Sand Snakes that stand behind you?" his question seemed to make him turn towards her, though he believed that his intentions were not lost on the man.
"No, not all of them. The three of them are my daughters, as for this one," and the girl that stepped forward had dark curly luscious hair, and a thin buxom frame that was covered by sheer silk that left little to one's imagination. She wore a bronze crown on her head, a thin veil hid her features, as golden snake-shaped bangles coiled around her arms.
"I can introduce myself, uncle," and so this was the future Princess of Dorne, the daughter of Doran Martell, and the supposed future wife of the now-dead Viserys Targaryen.
"Greetings, I am Princess Arianne Nymeros Martell," and Cregan nodded, though he could see Myrcella eyeing the girl with some fear and hesitancy.
"Greetings, Princess. I do hope that you are enjoying the feast," Cregan asked, and she nodded, and each of her movements was so accentuated that the eyes of nearly every man in the room turned towards her.
"I am, though you must be getting quite bored sitting there all by yourself besides your Queen," and she stepped forward, and he saw a few guards try to step forward but he stopped them,
"All this time and you have yet to step onto the floor even once, and though the Queen's charms are plentiful, perhaps you would be interested in sharing a dance with some of us as well," and it was quite rude of her to ask him for a dance like this, and he could see Myrcella glaring at her as she stood inches from him.
"I believe I must take mercy on your toes," he said, pointing towards the cane.
"My injury has rendered me quite a bad dancer," and she raised a brow.
"But you seemed quite comfortable with her," and to refer to Myrcella like that, she had some nerve.
"That was because of practice," and it was Myrcella who cut in, a bit angrily as the lioness in her bore her fangs.
"Do not be so rude, my dear," and it was Oberyn who had stepped forward.
"You should be grateful that our new King and Queen are so thoughtful," he said, offering her a way out.
"Plus, there are plenty of lords and ladies for you to choose from," and she nodded.
"Perhaps, but I had always hoped to dance with a King," and she was behaving as if a petulant child.
"Then it will have to be another one," Cregan retaliated, his mood turning somber, as Oberyn, realising his niece's mistake, stepped towards Sansa, and bent his knee.
"Your brother may have rejected one of us Dornish, I hope that you are not as cruel as him," and Sansa blushed as she accepted his hand, amidst a loud cheer from the crowd as the Prince of Dorne led her to the dance floor, as Garlan Tyrell stepped forward and saved Arianne Martell from embarrassment.
"I don't like her," Myrcella whispered, and he nodded.
"Well, the Dornish have little love for House Lannister," and that was why she had tried to humiliate the Queen, probably thinking that her beauty would sway him, and one would have to be blind not to appreciate the beauty of Arianne Martell.
"I know," Myrcella whispered.
"But I still don't like her," she added as Cregan chuckled.
"Well, you are free to dislike her as much as you want. But what do I always say," and she frowned, trying to remember before she answered with a smile.
"Keep your friends close..." and she finished quickly.
"...and your enemies closer," and she nodded, as the feast began in full.
Wine was drowned by the barrel, and the meats were eaten by the kilos, until everyone in the Hall was fully full and fully drunk, until a man rose up and smashed his hand into the table.
"You know what time it is!" and the music came to a halt, and the dancing all stopped as everyone turned towards the Royal Table.
"Bedding" "Bedding" "Bedding!"
They began to chorus together, as Cregan turned towards his father, who had a slightly flushed face.
"I believe I can do nothing to help you, your grace," and Myrcella's face became dejected, as she grabbed his hand in desperation as the men began to walk towards the Royal Table.
"Well, what do they say about a man's best friend?" and so Cregan whistled and the doors were thrown open behind them, as screams filled the Hall, as four massive, fully grown direwolves rushed into the Hall as Myrcella screamed in joy.
"Aurora!" and the wolf in question, which was now larger than most men, jumped over the tables as it came upon Myrcella and pushed her onto her back.
The other three, including Lady, Nymeria, and Summers, all surrounded her as they grunted and glared at the hoard of men. And even the wine did not give them the courage to move an inch towards the Queen, as they began to protest.
"You cannot do this!" "Lord Hand!" "This is wrong!"
Cregan simply shrugged at those protests as Arya and Lady Genna howled in laughter as the direwolves carried her away.
"Well, it seems like the Queen has found her own ride. If you have any problems, you can take it up with her and her friends...."
0000
Read ahead and support me on Patre 0n. Help me write this and other such stories by becoming a Patr 0n. It would be pretty awesome of you and would mean a lot to me.
www.Patre 0n.com/Drkest
Have a nice day!