Winter's Fire → Game of Thrones

xxv. Lost Love

Viserys' sword was by my side as I followed two Dothraki men to the tent pavilion they were taking me to. Khal Drogo wished to speak to me. I do not want to see him and I could easily kill these guards, but I will not do that. Although I am physically able to kill them, I am not sure what it would do to my mental state.

Since Viserys died I have been a mess. His funeral was held the day after he died and it was only briefly attended by Daenerys. Ser Jorah had been reluctant to leave me there alone, but I asked him too. That night I fell asleep by the raging fire, having cried to the point of exhaustion and not wanting to leave Viserys until he returned from the ashes from whence he once came.

The next few days, until we departed Vaes Dothrak, were spent either crying, numbly laying in my bed or in a bath. It was not the best coping mechanism, but it worked. Now all that is left within me is fury. Fury that is slowly being taken out in fighting lessons with Ser Jorah and Rakharo.

I entered the tent pavilion and saw Khal Drogo sitting on an ornate stone stool. His top warriors were standing near him, as were his bloodriders. They were a fierce sight - the Dothraki horse-lords with their body paint and long braided hair showing they had not been defeated in battle. Their dark eyes were all trained on me, emotions ranging from slight contempt to hatred. Still, I did not flinch. Wolves do not fear horses. It is the horses that fear the wolves.

Khal Drogo seemed displeased with my lack of reaction to what I am assuming he was hoping would be intimidating. I just stood before him, hands by my side, and made direct eye-contact. He can kill me if he wants. I am never going home and he took my love from me. I have no purpose now. He may as well just get it over and done with.

"Rakharo tells me you are a fierce warrior," Khal Drogo said, speaking Dothraki as his common tongue is quite terrible. "We are raiding a village tomorrow and you are not to get involved. I know you will kill us and side with the villagers."

"I am not an idiot," I told him, speaking fluent Dothraki. "The Lhazareen are sheep. They are not warriors. Siding with them would end in my death before I could exact any revenge."

One of Khal Drogo's top warriors whispered something to him, but he dismissed it. He just continued to stare me down and seemed to think on my words. Well, he tried.

The issue with the Dothraki is that although they are brilliant warriors, they know nothing of the political intrigue that hides in the shadows of Westeros and the main cities of Essos alike. That allows me to outthink all of them. It also gives me an upper-hand as I can easily manipulate all of them and only a few will realise.

"If you try to turn on us, you will die more horribly than your lover," Khal Drogo threatened. "If I die before you leave, you will die. If I suspect you of trying to kill any of us, I will kill you. You are not a friend of the Dothraki. You are our temporary prisoner."

"May as well sell me into slavery with everyone else outside of your herd," I quipped. "In case you did not notice, none of you scare me. I can fight and I am a survivor. I will survive you just like I have survived my past three years in Essos. I am not afraid."

Khal Drogo grabbed one of his warriors before he could draw his arakh, but I just raised an eyebrow, as if to say he was welcome to try me. Rakharo has trained me to use an arakh blade and to defend myself from them with Viserys' long sword. I am ready for whatever this man thinks he can do to me.

I rested my hand on my sword in case I needed to draw it quickly and looked at the men around me. They were all furious about the fact that I had disrespected their Khal. However, only the man who stepped forward was willing to fight me. I suspect that the rest were waiting for their orders.