The brown cowhide curtain of the yurt was lifted. Along with it came a cloying, sweet stench—a mixture of bay-leaf perfume and the sharp reek of urine. A woman with a protruding belly stepped out, supported on both sides by two Dothraki girls.
Dany froze after just one glance.
It wasn't a Dothraki painted riding vest. Instead, she wore a light, delicate lace dress from Myr. The bud-yellow color made her skin look even fairer. Silver hair fell over her shoulders, and her eyes were a hazy shade of violet.
If not for the memories in her mind reminding her otherwise, Dany would have almost thought she'd encountered another bloodline of House Targaryen.
Before his death, Jon Arryn had shouted "the seed is strong," hinting at King Robert Baratheon's tragic, cuckolded life. Those of the same bloodline often shared the same physical traits—black hair for House Baratheon, auburn hair for House Tully, golden hair for House Lannister, and the nearly translucent silver-gold hair of House Targaryen.
But in truth, silver hair and purple eyes were also the primary traits of the Valyrians. Since Valyria was destroyed by volcanic eruptions four hundred years ago, its ancient dragon civilization collapsed, and bloodlines with silver hair and purple eyes began to spread across the continent of Essos.
So encountering a silver-haired, purple-eyed woman in a khalasar of the horselords was not particularly surprising.
"So it's a khaleesi."
Unlike the petite and slender Dany, the silver-haired woman before her had a large frame—big breasts, wide hips, and a broad, square face. She was a very typical Western beauty.
And she was older than Dany, close to thirty.
The woman's gaze was strange, mixed with mockery, pity, jealousy, smugness, and malice all at once. Dany disliked it intensely and frowned as she asked, "Are you Lady Lilith? Jhaqo's wife?"
"Heh heh. Perhaps it won't be long before I become a khaleesi too," Lilith said, her brows lifting, her smile ambiguous.
Once Khal Drogo died, his khalasar would choose a new khal, and the khal's wife would naturally become the khaleesi.
In truth, among the Dothraki, a khaleesi wasn't worth much. Not counting the khalasars scattered across the grasslands, there were dozens—nearly a hundred—widowed khaleesis in Vaes Dothrak alone: the Dosh Khaleen.
Just a few days ago, Drogo had arranged for a group of riders to escort two khaleesis to Vaes Dothrak—wives of the khal from another khalasar, Ogo, whom Drogo had killed along with his son.
Dany's khas warriors weren't very sharp. They didn't catch the vicious curse hidden in Lilith's words, especially since she'd spoken in Valyrian, which the horselords didn't understand well.
Otherwise, it would have been either a whip across her face or an arrow through her belly.
Ser Jorah, however, narrowed his eyes and said coldly, "I've never heard of Jhaqo taking a wife. Even Khal Drogo had many women, yet the only one who became khaleesi was Princess Daenerys."
He stressed the word "princess," emphasizing the importance of her status.
Lilith's expression changed. Whatever she thought of made her tremble with rage, her thick lips pressed tightly into a cruel, thin line.
After a long moment, she stammered in Dothraki to Dany, "Khaleesi, are you trying to violate the glorious traditions of the great Dothraki again, seizing another warrior's spoils at will?"
As mentioned before, the original Dany was extremely kind and brave. Unable to bear seeing Dothraki warriors freely abusing captive women, she had forcibly taken them away.
The women she saved felt little gratitude toward her, while the Dothraki who had their "property" taken from them hated her to the bone.
Seizing a warrior's "spoils" was a grave violation of Dothraki tradition.
"It's just a goose." Dany awkwardly unfastened a silver medallion from her waist and tossed it to the ground. "You cannot refuse a khaleesi's gift. This is the return gift."
The large white goose that had just escaped from the fat cook was now pinned through its long neck by one of Qotho's arrows. The arrow pierced straight through, sinking more than ten centimeters into the muddy ground. The goose let out weak, mournful honks as its blood-soaked white feathers fluttered helplessly.
Dany pointed at the goose on the ground. "Now it belongs to me."
The Dothraki not only lacked any concept of marriage—they didn't even have finance. No, forget finance; they didn't even have currency.
Without money as a universal equivalent, without trade, if they needed something, they either took it by force or received it as tribute from other peoples and city-states. When a hundred thousand khalasar warriors pressed toward a city, no city on the continent of Essos dared refuse to offer gifts.
The horselords pillaged the entire continent, and it wasn't that they lacked metals like gold and silver used as currency. They forged gold, silver, and copper into medallions, stringing them together into belts worn around the waist.
Then, just like Dany was doing now, they conducted primitive trade through the mutual exchange of gifts.
Daenerys herself was an example. She had been given to the mightiest khal of the Dothraki Sea, Khal Drogo, as a gift—arranged by her brother Viserys with the help of Illyrio Mopatis, Magister of Pentos.
(The Dothraki Sea: a vast grassland in eastern Essos, across the sea from Westeros. The plains are so immense that in summer, waves of grass roll like the ocean, giving birth to the powerful and primitive Dothraki people.)
Strictly speaking, Daenerys had been sold to Khal Drogo like a slave.
Viserys gave Drogo a gift, and according to Dothraki tradition, the khal had to return a gift of equal value: ten thousand Dothraki screamers, or Drogo leading his khalasar across Westeros to restore House Targaryen.
That was to say, helping Viserys place a crown upon his head.
But the barbaric Dothraki had a very bad habit. You give me a gift, I'll give you one in return—but when I give it, and how I give it, is entirely up to me.
Viserys was even more desperate to reclaim his throne than Murong Fu from Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils. Seeing his sister's belly growing larger by the day, the child nearly ready to be born, Drogo still hadn't sent him any soldiers, nor had he shown any intention of personally helping to restore the kingdom.
So Viserys began harassing Drogo like a thug chasing down a debtor.
Splashing paint, seizing and selling property, harassing calls, threatening family members, standing at the door hurling insults, beating people—
The world of A Song of Ice and Fire had no paint or telephones, but Viserys had imitated nearly every one of those behaviors in his own way.
He beat and humiliated Drogo's wife—his own younger sister—publicly accused Drogo of betraying his word, of freeloading off his sister. He didn't know Dothraki and cursed in the Common Tongue of Westeros. Drogo couldn't understand him, and others, out of respect for Dany's status as khaleesi, didn't translate it for him.
Stealing dragon eggs to sell for money was trivial by comparison. When Dany learned of it, she even intended to give her three dragon eggs to him.
Even more outrageous, Viserys brought weapons into a place akin to the Dothraki's "White Tiger Hall." At the time, Drogo was feasting with several khals. In front of countless people, Viserys pointed a sword at Dany's swollen belly and threatened Drogo: if you don't help me reclaim my throne, I'll stab your wife and child to death.
Unfortunately, Viserys had the viciousness of a loan-shark thug but none of the backing or power. And Drogo was no meek debtor. In fact, Drogo never intended to default—Dothraki customs were simply like this. They followed the seasons while roaming the Dothraki Sea, returning to Vaes Dothrak once a year to have the Dosh Khaleen divine the fortunes of the coming year.
Viserys met a tragic end. Drogo's belt, strung with golden medallions, was thrown into an iron pot and melted down into molten gold.
You want a crown, don't you?
Molten gold poured over his head, nearly melting his skull. The misery was beyond words.
That was how fucked-up and brutal Dothraki "gift trade" was. So when faced with the khaleesi's silver medallion, Lilith had no way to refuse. The white goose now belonged to Dany.
Before leaving Jhaqo's khalasar, Dany reined in her mare, braced her right hand against her waist, and turned back to Lilith, who was gnashing her teeth.
"You've been in Drogo's khalasar for quite some time, haven't you?" Dany said. "Since you're talking about tradition, you should understand it even better. Among the Dothraki, there has never been a khaleesi who couldn't ride a horse—even if she's pregnant."
With that, she rode off, her small silver mare going clip-clop, clip-clop into the distance.
Every Dothraki had a horse, and everyone had to know how to ride. When Daenerys became Drogo's khaleesi, the first thing she learned wasn't the Dothraki language, but how to live on horseback.
A massive khalasar certainly had wagons, but wagons weren't for normal people, and definitely not for the "nobility." Among the Dothraki, only eunuchs, cripples, pregnant women, and the old, weak, or very young rode in wagons.
Daenerys was nearly ten months pregnant and still rode her horse. Khal Drogo, his wound infected and afflicted by dark sorcery, his mind already hazy, still rode by instinct.
The higher one's status, the more one must never leave the saddle.
The first time Dany saw the Dothraki Sea, she was captivated by the grasslands rolling like ocean waves. She ordered her khas to halt and rest. Viserys, unable to tolerate "being ordered around"—as baggage brought by Dany, his "household registration" nominally attached to her khas—awakened his so-called "Wrath of the Sleeping Dragon" and planned, as he had done countless times over the past decade, to whip his sister to vent his anger.
(PS: Wrath of the Sleeping Dragon—Viserys considered himself a true dragon and often used this phrase when enraged. Yes, a beggar prince of a fallen dynasty, with no one else to bully, could only vent his anger on his young sister. Dany had long served as Viserys's punching bag and stress outlet.)
Though Dany had been sold to Drogo like merchandise, she gained her own khas immediately after marriage. How could Aggo and the others allow the khaleesi to be beaten?
That time, Viserys was stripped of his right to ride a horse. Seeing him walking back to the khalasar, the Dothraki mockingly gave him the nickname "Rhaemar Khal"—the Sour-Leg King.
The next day, Khal Drogo suggested that Viserys ride in a wagon. He happily agreed, thinking Drogo was apologizing for Dany's "rudeness."
As a result, Viserys received a second humiliating nickname: Raggat Khal, meaning "Cart King."
From this, one could see just how much discrimination there was within a khalasar against those who couldn't ride.
Looking at the silver medallion lying in the mud, then at Dany riding away with smug satisfaction, Lilith bit her thick lips until they nearly bled.
"Before the khalasar breaks camp tomorrow, prepare a horse for me," she roared at the slave woman beside her. "A silver little mare, just like that bitch's!"
—
Before signing, one update per day for now. I'll stockpile some chapters. Once the contract is approved, guaranteed two updates daily. The chapters are short for now—you can bookmark first. Thank you all for your support!
(End of Chapter)