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THE DAY DANYWOULD FINALLY MEET KHAL DROGO ARRIVED, AND ALIA WAS A NERVOUS WRECK. Her hands wouldn't stop shaking, and she felt bile creep up her throat, accompanied by the sickening feeling that something was going to go horribly wrong. Maybe the Khal wouldn't like her? Although Alia couldn't see why that would be, but nonetheless she had a constant premonition of danger.
Her eyes wandered over to her bedside table where she had left the dragon ring last night. She had intended to have it wrapped up, but there was no time now. It was meant to have been a gift for Daenerys, but after a serving girl had seen the ring when Alia arrived back at the manse, she had told her – to her dismay – that the ring was not made for a woman. A man's ring then, Alia thought bitterly. Wonderful. She couldn't exactly give it to Illyrio, and the only other person she could think of was Viserys. It was only right he received it. The dragon was the sigil of his centuries-old house. She would just have to find the right time to gift it to him...
Nevertheless, Alia had been pacing in her room for what felt like hours, walking back and forth along the patterned tiles with her head held low. Dothraki phrases rattled around in her mind, so much so that Alia began to forget how to say a simple greeting. She was overthinking things, and she knew it.
Comfort refused to wash over her as she strode over to her balcony, overlooking the ocean. All she could think of was Khal Drogo refusing Daenerys, and Alia knew what that would mean. Not only that, but such an act would ignite a terrible rage in Viserys – one that wasn't so easily put out, and Alia most certainly didn't want to be within radius of that.
Nervously, she wrung her hands out in front of her, letting the wind wind its fingers in her hair lightly before she heard a knock at her door. "Come in," Alia called, being greeted with an unnecessary bow as a serving woman presented her with her dress for the evening.
Alia almost forgot about dressing up completely. The dress was the rich colour of blood, and was intricate and soft. She had never worn such a dress. She had never really had the luxury nor the self-respect. There was a golden band that cinched in tight around Alia's waist, and when she put it on she felt like some kind of exotic princess. Was this what she was expected to wear? The dress fell to the floor, tumbling elegantly like a waterfall, just kissing the ground modestly. Alia twirled around girlishly and smiled to herself – where had Illyrio gotten such a dress?
Alia shook off her vanity – she chose to abandon all selfish thoughts of pride, and only focused on the little girl who was soon to become a woman. Alia stood in the pale sunlight, swaying on her feet before her thoughts sprung her back to life.
Presentation. Alia had already had a bath; a solution of lavender had been given to her to bathe in, so now she feared she'd put everyone to sleep who stood near her. Her hair, however, was a different story. Alia chose just to leave it brushed – she didn't have any handmaidens to do her hair for her, and she couldn't really be bothered. Not when her nerves hurriedly ate away at her. When she finally realised there was nothing personal to worry about, Alia thought of Daenerys, and with that she left the safety of her chambers.
