Sacrifice | Daenerys Targaryen

-4-

Vaes Dothrak.

The City of the Horse Lords.

The fearsome and wild Dothraki fear any water that their horses may not drink. They have never crossed the Narrow Sea, and never will. They will remain on the ground, where their horses may trot and their enemy's blood may be spilled.

Daenerys has given Lyla and her child a beautiful tent, one large and grand and big enough to fit a pile of servants-- but Lyla only wants Qora. The elder woman wears a beautiful smile upon her face each and every time she's with Aera, though the child hardly does. Aera's condition has only worsened since the Dothraki trek has begun.

And ever since it was gifted to her, Lyla has kept the blade on her person at all times. She keeps it tucked close to her body, for at any moment she could be in danger and need to protect her daughter.

But the longer they remain in Vaes Dothrak, the more unhinged and paranoid Viserys becomes. He's so pillared by his own illusions, that they begin to drive him mad.

A Targaryen is born and the gods flip a coin...

He takes his anger out on Daenerys, of whom was merely trying to extend an olive branch to her brother, but Viserys only intends to burn the branch. He completely detests the fact that Lyla has any sort of protection. Protection from him.

And now that Daenerys is carrying the Khal's child, it's taking the attention away from him and his throne, and what else is a spoiled child to do other than throw a tantrum?

Viserys's voice pierces the air, reverberating with a mix of desperation and anger.

"Daenerys!" He calls out, his voice echoing through the great hall.

His eyes dart around, searching for his sister, as a wave of frustration washes over him. Jorah Mormont, seated beside Daenerys, senses the tension in the room and turns his gaze towards Viserys. His eyes meet the prince's, silently acknowledging his presence.

Daenerys, sensing Viserys's agitation, leans towards Jorah and whispers urgently, "Stop him."

Jorah rises from his seat, his movements deliberate and measured as he walks towards Viserys. The hall falls into a hushed silence, all eyes fixed on the impending confrontation, which prompts Lyla to place a hand over the hilt of the dagger.

Viserys, his eyes wild and desperate, spins around to face Jorah, his voice filled with both frustration and hope.

"Where is she? Where is she?" He demands, his gaze scanning the room in search of his sister.

Jorah approaches Viserys cautiously, aware of the volatile nature of the situation. He places a hand on Viserys's shoulder, attempting to calm him.

"Come," Jorah says, his voice steady and calm, "Let me show you."

Viserys shrugs off Jorah's hand, his face contorted with defiance.

"Get your hands off me!" He retorts, his voice filled with venom.

The tension in the hall thickens, as the onlookers watch the unfolding scene with a mix of anticipation and apprehension. Viserys's gaze lands on Khal Drogo, who stands at the center of the hall, surrounded by his fierce Dothraki warriors. A twisted smile creeps across Viserys's face as he calls out to Khal Drogo, his voice dripping with arrogance.

"Khal Drogo! I'm here for the feast," Viserys declares, his tone filled with misplaced confidence.

The hall erupts with hushed whispers and glances exchanged between the Dothraki. Khal Drogo, towering above the crowd, meets Viserys's gaze with an enigmatic smile. He responds in Dothraki, his voice deep and resonant, as he points towards a spot at the edge of the hall, away from the center of the festivities.