Women are supposed to be soft-spoken proper and homemakers and Rhaella Lopez was everything but she was fierce, loud, blunt and deadly. Her family had never been able to accept her but the FBI loved her it was her home, the only place other than the...
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Before she knew it, the year had passed. She was thirteen and had her 'first moon blood'—or so her brother and their host believed. In truth, Dany had started bleeding when she was eleven; she had simply learned how to be discreet. She saw the look the two men exchanged when they received the news, and she immediately understood—they were preparing to marry her off.
She was not blind to the fact that Viserys was attracted to her, nor that Illyrio found her appealing. In her mind, she was at least forty if she added the years she had spent as Daenerys. She was not naïve to the thoughts of men. She had to admit that she understood why her appearance drew attention—her silver-blonde hair and violet eyes marked her Valyrian heritage, but it was her lightly tanned, toned, yet curvaceous figure that truly captivated.
She had grown into her curves, and unfortunately, she seemed to be cursed with large breasts in this life as well. If she had to guess, she was currently a C-cup, and it irritated her, as she had to adjust the bindings around her chest often. The girl knew she attracted male attention.
She began packing her undergarments, slipping the wrapped scrolls, her mother's crown, and the Targaryen sigil necklace she had hidden for so long in between the fabrics. Her brother had been forced to sell his own crown instead. She placed a few dresses inside before finally securing her most well-guarded secret. During their constant moving, she had come into possession of three dragon eggs.
The bag was stuffed beneath a loose floorboard in her room. Fortunately, the servants paid her little attention—she was not important. The young girl left her chamber, dressed in a dark gown with red flowers woven into her hair. She looked every bit the innocent little princess, and that was precisely the image she wanted to project.
Silently, she entered the library, where Illyrio was attempting to persuade Viserys to betroth her to Khal Drogo. Neither man noticed her approach as she took a seat near them. Schooling her expression to one of sadness yet understanding, she spoke.
"I'll marry him."
The two men spun to face her in surprise. Making her voice slightly shaky, she continued, "If I marry him, my brother will get warriors to help him reclaim his throne, yes?" She directed the question to Illyrio, knowing that those words alone would be enough to make her brother agree.
When the man nodded, she knew Viserys was already lost in the fantasy of an undefeated Khal helping him seize Westeros. He would do anything for the throne. As she exited the room, she heard him command Illyrio, "Do it." Then he followed her.
It was a shame he would not be able to marry her himself, but sacrifices had to be made.
From behind, he watched her as she walked towards the gardens. She looked like their mother. Every step was graceful, making her appear as if she were floating. Clad in the family colours, her hair was braided in a Valyrian style—the same way their mother used to do it.
