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❝IT IS ONE THING TO HEAR ABOUT DRAGONS... IT'S ANOTHER TO SEE THEM FOR YOURSELF❞
GAME OF THRONES
SEASONS 1-AU 8 & beyond
DAENERYSxOCxOC
! ANY AND ALL SEXUAL SCENES WI...
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ARROGANTLY towering in the sky, two rearing horses of stone created an archway with their splayed legs above the moving Dothraki line. The statues' immense size and details were quite astonishing to Vaegon, who had assumed the Dothraki could not do such a feat. He gazed up at the massive statues from his saddle while shielding his eyes from the blistering sun with his forearm.
The Khalasar began entering the ancient Dothraki city of Vaes Dothrak, visible through the wave-like heat in the distance. To Vaegon, a city without walls didn't seem very safe, yet he didn't expect much from the horse people. Weapons were forbidden to be used against each other; perhaps a good enough deterrent to prevent deadly quarrels.
Not far behind Vaegon, Viserys rode, finally gaining his horse back after being forced to walk by Drogo's blood riders. Seeing his elder brother humbled so brutally had brought much joy to the younger Targaryen. He knew that Viserys was never short of arrogance, and it had taken Rahkaro's whip around his neck to silence him.
Viserys looked beyond ragged by now, his clothing from Pentos worn thin and incredibly dirty. His hair was no longer the clean and wispy locks it had been before, rather turning into a knotted, oily mess. Unlike Viserys, Vaegon had reluctantly adopted the Dothraki dress, which he found wasn't nearly as bad as he had expected. Soft horse hide pants, woven grass sandals, and painted vests; he'd even acquired a silver medallion belt, which clung to his toned waist like a desperate lover.
In addition to adopting the dress of the nomadic people he lived among, Vaegon also allowed a sense of wildness to take over him. He may have been a prince, but there was no place for civilized courtesy among the Dothraki. Moons had passed since leaving Pentos, and Vaegon's hair had grown rapidly. It was a silver curly mess atop his head, which he often washed in whatever stream the Khalasar happened upon in its seemingly endless journey.
Pounding hooves caught Vaegon's attention as he spotted Drogo and his blood riders taking off ahead of the Khalasar. In contrast, the remainder of the riders followed behind at its own pace. He knew that somewhere ahead, his sister rode. Nearly every time he thought of her, his thoughts turned sour.
"This entire journey has been a waste of fucking time," Viserys muttered behind Vaegon after also watching Drogo ride away. "He's been taking my army the wrong way. I was promised we would start the invasion after he got his queen!"
It had been more challenging to deal with Viserys since Ser Jorah had left for his short journey. The knight was the only one who had been successful in keeping Vaegon from quite literally strangling his elder brother until his face turned blue.
"Obviously, he has important matters to attend to," Vaegon replied. He didn't quite care where they went. He wasn't the one trying to take back the Iron Throne.
