To the Dothraki, the people living in the Free Cities behind high walls are nothing more than weak and cowardly creatures. Just like the Lhazar, whom they call "sheep people," these city dwellers are helpless against the Dothraki, who see them as easy prey, much like sheep and cattle waiting to be slaughtered.
If not for the Free Cities' willingness to buy captives as slaves and their annual tribute of gold and silver, Khal Drogo would have already led his warriors to sack the city of Pentos. However, since the city's leaders were wise enough to pay tribute and would remain useful in the future, he decided to spare them for now.
Although Drogo had never heard the saying about killing the goose that lays golden eggs, he instinctively understood that the mares, cows, and ewes raised by his khalasar should not be slaughtered recklessly—otherwise, they would have nothing left to sustain them.
After exchanging a few words with Illyrio Mopatis Myrren, Khal Drogo did not wait for further invitation. He lightly squeezed his horse's sides, and his massive black stallion, trained to understand his master's intent, trotted into the city of Pentos.
His three bloodriders—Kokhoro, Koso, and Hago—rode closely behind him, followed by 2,100 Dothraki warriors. As they passed through the city streets, the people of Pentos hurried to clear the way, their faces filled with both fear and curiosity. Many whispered among themselves, wondering which horse lord had come to visit their city this time.
Behind them, Illyrio Myrren wiped the sweat from his forehead, gave the order to close the city gates, and climbed into his luxurious palanquin, which was carried by sixteen slaves. Despite the grandeur of the moment, 's mind was preoccupied with tonight's feast. He would be hosting Khal Drogo at his mansion, where he planned to introduce Daenerys Targaryen to the great Dothraki leader. His goal was to arrange a marriage between the Targaryen princess and Khal Drogo, fulfilling Viserys Targaryen's desire to secure an army for his return to Westeros.
Though Illyrio had little faith in Viserys, whom he privately referred to as the "Beggar King," he thought the plan was worth a try. After all, Daenerys was nearly fifteen years old and extraordinarily beautiful. Perhaps her beauty would be enough to captivate the thirty-year-old Khal Drogo.
The banquet that night went smoothly. Khal Drogo laid eyes on the stunning princess with silver hair and violet eyes. Without hesitation, he accepted Illyrio's proposal, agreeing to take Daenerys as his Khaleesi.
In Dothraki tradition, a khal could have multiple wives, but at this moment, Daenerys would be his only Khaleesi.
Daenerys, young and delicate, trembled as she learned from her brother that she was to marry this fearsome warrior. Standing before Khal Drogo, who was nearly twice her size with bronze skin and an aura of raw power, she was overcome with fear.
She could barely remember how she made it back to her chambers. The only thing she knew was that Khal Drogo, the man who would soon be her husband, terrified her.
She felt like a helpless lamb being offered up as a sacrifice. No one cared about what she wanted. To her brother, Viserys, and their benefactor, Illyrio, she was nothing more than a bargaining chip, a piece of property to be handed over to this barbarian.
Daenerys had pleaded with her brother, telling him she did not want to marry Drogo, but Viserys ignored her. When she resisted, he struck her.
She was terrified of Viserys, of his unpredictable rage, which he called "the wrath of the dragon." If she disobeyed him, she knew he would only hurt her more.
For days, she was lost in sorrow. Each morning, she woke to find her pillow damp with tears, dreading the fate that awaited her.
Despite her fear, the wedding day arrived as scheduled. Her maids dressed her like a doll, adorning her in fine silks and jewels before sending her to stand before the Dothraki warlord.
Khal Drogo's dark almond-shaped eyes studied her closely. He spoke in a language she did not understand, but there was no mistaking the intent in his gaze.
The wedding took place in the open plains outside Pentos, amidst the vast Dothraki encampment. The guests included Pentoshi merchants, city governors, and even Prince of Pentos, the ceremonial ruler of the city. Each of them presented gifts and offered their blessings.
Among the guests was Ser Jorah Mormont, an exiled knight from Bear Island in the North. Broad-shouldered and powerfully built, he wore leather armor marked with the sigil of House Mormont—a black bear on a green field.
Kneeling before Daenerys, he presented her with a thick book. "Khaleesi, I hope you like my gift," he said in the Common Tongue.
Daenerys forced a smile as she accepted it. "Thank you, Ser Jorah."
Then, the wedding feast took a brutal turn.
Suddenly, two Dothraki warriors who had been fighting for entertainment drew their arakhs and clashed. One warrior's blade found its mark, slicing through the other's neck. Blood sprayed several feet into the air.
"Ah!" Daenerys gasped, clutching the book to her chest, her violet eyes wide in horror. She had never witnessed such violence before. The lifeless body of the fallen warrior collapsed onto the ground, his head rolling away.
More warriors joined the fights, and soon, the scent of blood filled the air. One after another, Dothraki were cut down, their corpses sprawled in the dirt.
Ser Jorah, noticing her distress, quickly stepped in front of her. Lowering his voice, he reassured her, "Khaleesi, this is the Dothraki way. The more bloodshed at a wedding, the greater the blessing from the Great Stallion."
Daenerys stared blankly, her mind reeling. The savagery unfolding before her was overwhelming. The longer she watched, the more hopeless she felt.
The other Dothraki present showed no discomfort at the sight of blood and death. To them, it was simply another celebration.
As Daenerys sat frozen, fear gripping her heart, she realized that she had no control over her fate. The future before her was uncertain, terrifying, and completely beyond her power to change.
She was truly helpless.
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