𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍

𝐎𝟒. 𝐀 𝐒𝐀𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎

━━･ ❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━

L H A Z A R,
V I S E R Y A

A HOLE WAS TORE INTO THE TENT so the Khal's red, tall horse would be able to pulled inside by Drogo's khas. " Khalessi. Do not do this thing. Let me kill this witch for you, " Rakharo had told Viserya as he edged back, his hand on his arakh when the horse whined and tried to stop itself from being pulled further into the tent. It was too late, no matter who pleaded and advised her otherwise, Vi was going to go through with this.

" Kill her and you'd kill your khal!" Rakharo weaves around Vi, standing in front of her. Mirri Maz Duur was handed her chest full of healing ointments and herbs, but when she reached inside, she drew out a long steel dagger. Mirri pricked her finger with the tip of the knife and she used the blood that trickled down to smear it in the space between her thick brows.

" This is blood magic," Rakharo argued. " It is forbidden!"

" I am your Khalessi. I will tell you what is forbidden." A spark of fire burst in an empty brazier behind Drogo's body when Mirri Maz Duur approached his stallion. She chanted in a sing-songy manner, words from a language older than all of the souls combined in the room, words that summoned spirits and ghosts from beyond the Shadow Lands into the tent.

Mirri Maz Duur turned to Viserya when the khas handed her the reins to Drogo's horse, " Go. Now."

" Leave," Viserya said to Rakharo and the few khas in the tent. Rakharo stared at her for a long moment before reaching for his brother and leading him out of the tent with the rest of the khas. " You must go also, lady."

Vi wrapped her arms around herself protectively, shaking her head and fighting back the tears that welled up in her eyes. " Once I begin to sing, no one must enter the tent. The dead will dance here tonight."

Viserya had no choice but to lower her head submissively, and she didn't mind the taste of sweat nor the smell of decay that lingered around him as she moved closer to Drogo's body, leaning down to place a light kiss on his sweaty brows.

When she rose, the maegi drew her hammered bronze knife across the stallion's throat and the horse screamed as the blood poured out of him in a rush of scarlet red. It splattered across Vi's face but not as much as it did over Drogo's body. He was nearly bathing in the thick and dark blood of his stallion, and Viserya gasped when it's body collapsed to the ground with a loud thud.

She wiped the blood from near her eyes with the back of her hand. Vi glanced over her shoulder as she began to walk out of the large tent, " I want my husband back. Bring him to me." Mirri Maz Duur simply nods, and Viserya fled.

Outside the tent, word had spread that the Khal had fallen, and that the Khaleesi was dancing with dark magic in order to bring him back. Gathered around her was a crowd of dark, narrowing eyes that peered through her as she walked forward. In the crowd, Vi could spot Ser Jorah Mormont, clad in his armor and chainmail, pushing through the Dothraki to reach her.