Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
THE WEDDING WAS, TO SAY THE LEAST, UNSETTLING. For a woman who had spent nearly nine and ten years of her life studying the Dothraki, they had the unmatchable talent for putting Alia on edge.
The men were the worst, though. All cockiness and muscle, flexing their arms in the lurid sunlight as sweat dripped from their foreheads. Some had overexerted themselves in the act of fighting and fucking, and were collapsed in a shameless heap away from the crowd, momentarily regaining their breath. It didn't take long for them to spring up again though, ready to get back to what they did best.
Alia swallowed down bile as they murdered men and raped women right before her eyes. The lewdest of the lot would come forward, spitting licentious things at Alia's face in hopes that she would lay with them (in their own tongue, of course). If it hadn't been for the presence of Daenerys, Viserys, and Illyrio, Alia knew for a fact that she too, would have been defiled for all to see. The thought alone was enough to make her feel sick.
She was sat in an ornate chair beside Viserys, with Illyrio on the prince's other side. The tall, wooded chairs had dragons carved into the armrests, and seemed to completely swallow the short girl's petite frame. Despite all that was going on, Alia did not consider herself to be on speaking terms with Illyrio, and ignored him when he asked her if she wanted to come with her to get something to eat.
The food didn't appeal to her anyways. The horse hearts were covered in blood, and were guaranteed to be raw. Flies swarmed the fires, and as the flames lapped at the sky, they omitted a foul rotting smell. Alia's face was stricken, watching everything with a sense of fear and foreboding. Not to mention the constant drum beats were beginning to give her a headache.
"When do I meet with the Khal?" Viserys' voice brought Alia back to reality, and she was glad to be distracted from having to watch men die and women being raped. "We need to begin planning the invasion."
At times – which meant all the time – it seemed that Viserys was absolutely besotted with planning his attack on King's Landing. It was all he cared about, and, given the chance, Alia could guarantee that he would discuss battle strategy for hours on end. No one cared to listen. Not for as long as he would like, anyway.
"If Khal Drogo has promised you a crown, you shall have it," said Illyrio with confidence.
But the Prince didn't look convinced. "When?"
"When their omens favour war."
Viserys scoffed loudly, taking a long, deep swig from his goblet before settling it down on the arm of his chair, his hand brushing against Alia's only slightly. "I piss on Dothraki omens. I waited seventeen years to get my throne back."
"Well, what's the difference between waiting a few more, your Grace?" Alia asked, trying not to be reminded of his brutal ways as she looked into the eyes of the Dragon Prince. "You cannot sack King's Landing overnight."
