Chapter 128 Khal Drogo's Banquet (1)
The palace stood sentinel by the bay, its nine tall towers piercing the sky. Pale ivy crept across its high brick walls, a sprawling tapestry of green against the weathered stone. It was a joint gift from the magisters of Pentos to Khal Drogo.
Today, the invincible horse king held a banquet within its halls, attended by the great and good of Pentos, alongside countless princes and nobles who had journeyed here simply to behold him.
The air was thick with the aromas of hot pepper, sweet lemon, and cinnamon.
The grand hall was adorned with stained-glass windows depicting the doom of ancient Valyria. Ian had only a moment to glance at the carved stories of its fall before the shrill voice of a eunuch sliced through the din.
"Viserys of the House Targaryen, the Third of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm!
His sister, Daenerys Stormborn, Princess of Dragonstone! And their patron, Magister Illyrio Mopatis of the Free City of Pentos, have arrived!"
Ian turned his gaze toward the entrance, just in time to see the party make their way into the hall. At their head walked a young man with silver-gold hair. His purple eyes were fixed forward with an almost desperate intensity, and his face, though haggard, was set in a mask of grim determination—a contrived solemnity.
*He's trying so hard to look like a king,* Ian thought.
Behind Viserys came the lavishly dressed Magister Illyrio and the petite Daenerys. Dany wore a gown of dark purple silk and a delicate crown upon her head. A gold bracelet inlaid with amethysts circled one pale arm, while a heavy gold torc, engraved with words in High Valyrian, hung around her neck. The sheer weight of it all seemed to overwhelm her.
At this moment, she did not look like a princess at all. She looked like a commodity for sale. And, to be precise, that is exactly what she was today.
Her brother, Viserys, intended to trade her to the all-conquering Dothraki horse-lord in exchange for thousands of screaming warriors to reclaim his homeland.
Dany followed her brother with a timid air, her eyes wide with a mixture of awe and fear. The entire forest of stone pillars and the ivy-draped courtyard beyond were teeming with people: towering Dothraki khals and their servants, sellswords from the Free Cities, red-robed priests who worshipped gods other than the Seven, and even a dark-skinned prince from the Summer Islands.
Illyrio leaned in, his voice a low whisper. "The three standing over there are Drogo's bloodriders. Those by the pillar are Khal Moro and his son, Rhogoro. The man with the green-dyed beard is the brother of the Archon of Tyrosh. And those few… they are loyal men, come all the way from Westeros to serve you."
Illyrio gestured subtly. "The tall knight by the window to the left is named Jorah Mormont, the former Lord of Bear Island."
"The one speaking with the captains is Ser Daeron Grafton. He comes from Gulltown. As I told you, it was for their loyalty to House Targaryen that the Graftons met with disaster two months ago."
"The Usurper's dogs seized Gulltown and executed Lord Gerold Grafton. They dressed his eldest son in black and sent him to the Wall. Daeron is the lord's second son." As he spoke, Illyrio turned his gaze to the other side of the hall.
"And the knight on the right, surrounded by several ladies, is called Ian Rivers. He is of House Darry. The Darrys, like the Graftons, were destroyed two months past, accused of rebellion by the Usurper."
"House Darry?" Viserys's purple eyes flashed with surprise. He ignored the other, unfamiliar names and focused his attention on Ian.
"As I told you, Your Grace," Illyrio said with a slight bow, "the Seven Kingdoms are filled with your loyal subjects. They are merely waiting for you to return and rule them."
"Have them come to me," Viserys said, a tremor of excitement in his voice. "I will reward their loyalty." It was the first time in his life he had ever heard of men coming to pledge him their fealty.
He glanced at Illyrio, seeking counsel. "I should do this, shouldn't I? I should reward my followers?"
"Of course, Your Grace. You are a true dragon, a true king. Generosity and kindness are virtues a king must possess."
"But my mercy will not extend to the traitors!" Viserys's voice suddenly turned venomous. "I will kill the Usurper with my own hands! And the Lannisters… I will make them understand the price of stealing from a true dragon! They will pay for what they have done."
"Indeed, they will," Illyrio replied, his tone respectful but with an undercurrent of perfunctory dismissal that made Viserys fall silent. The magister turned to Daenerys and patted her bare shoulder. "Smile, sweet princess. Look, there is the Khal himself."
Daenerys did not want to look at the Khal. She wanted to run, to hide. She wanted to go home.
Illyrio moved off to present himself to Khal Drogo, and Viserys seized the opportunity to pull his sister aside.
"Do you see how long his hair is?" Viserys demanded in a low hiss.
Khal Drogo stood a head taller than any other man in the room. His long, oiled braid reached far past his waist, brushing against the back of his thighs.
"When a Dothraki is defeated in battle, he must cut off his braid as a sign of his shame. Look at his hair, little sister. Khal Drogo has never known defeat. And you will be his queen," Viserys told her.
Dany's gaze drifted to the distant Khal. His face was hard and cold, his eyes as black and unforgiving as onyx.
"I don't want to be his queen," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Viserys, please. I don't want to. I just want to go home." She was terrified of Drogo, of his cold, dark eyes.
"Home?" Viserys's voice dropped, but Dany could hear the rage simmering within it. "Sweet sister, tell me, which home shall we return to? Our home was stolen from us long ago!"
He yanked her into the shadows of a nearby alcove, away from prying eyes, and his fingernails dug into her skin. "Which home?" he repeated, his voice a cruel whisper.
Dany flinched back, her heart pounding with fear. The home she meant was Illyrio's manse, but she knew that was not the home her brother spoke of. He meant King's Landing, Dragonstone—the entire lost kingdom.
Viserys's fingers pinched tighter, demanding an answer, but Dany could only bow her head, tears welling in her eyes.
"Your Grace." A calm voice cut through the tension. "Permit me to offer my blessings and the highest respects of House Darry of the Riverlands."
Ian had seen the cruel turn of Viserys's expression from across the room and had quickly excused himself from the two ladies he had been speaking with.
His timely words broke the spell. Viserys instantly released his sister, smoothed the collar of his silk tunic, and did his best to compose himself into a more kingly posture before turning to face Ian.
"You did not mention loyalty," Viserys noted, his expression one of clear displeasure.
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