Title: Affazolat
Fandom: Game of Thrones AU
Pairing(s):
Drogo/Viserys
Summary:
What would happen if, when Daenerys was presented to Khal Drogo in Pentos, the Dothraki warlord decided he'd rather have the Targaryen Prince instead? Drogo/Viserys, slash, AU.
Rating/Warning:
Pretty mild for now – I'd give it a T, just to be safe. Swear words, mostly, but if I continue it, it's likely more sexual content will show up in future XD
Timeline:
AU Season 1 of Game of Thrones.
Disclaimer:
I do not own GoT, it belongs to George R. R. Martin. I'm just playing with the characters for my sick entertainment, and obviously, no profit is being made from this story!
Author's Note:
I'll start this off by saying… there isn't nearly enough Viserys-centric fics on this site. Seriously, he's an ass, but a total blast to write! :D I got the inspiration for this on tumblr where someone mentioned they wanted a slashy Drogo/Viserys fic that featured him replacing Dany as the Khal's "bride" – hence the title, "Affazolat" (which is Dothraki for "to replace"; I'm not entirely happy with it but I couldn't really think of anything else) XD It can either remain as a one-shot, or if people like it enough and are interested, I'll consider continuing it. Otherwise, review and enjoy!
By the way, I'm not entirely certain on the phrasing for zhavvorsa khalakka – I'm not sure if "khalakka" is "prince" in general or refers strictly to the son of a Khal, so you'll have to bear with me there, because I truly had no idea!
PPS – totally made up the stuff about the Khal's concubines and whatnot for story purposes. Just so we're clear, I have no idea if that actually happens in canon, but anyway!

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"He what?"

Viserys wasn't certain he'd heard the magister correctly. Of all the things that could've possibly gone wrong that afternoon, he hadn't anticipated this.

Magister Illyrio looked uncomfortable. "He… your Grace, he said…"

"I heard you the first time!" The prince snapped irritably, pacing back and forth in the bedroom he occupied in the Magister's mansion. Daenerys was nowhere to be seen, and for that, she was lucky. Although the Khal's rejection of her had nothing to do with her, she was still liable to wake the dragon if she was near him at present time. "Are you sure that's what he said? Because if I find out you're lying to me –"

"It's the Gods honest truth, your Grace!" Illyrio held his hands up defensively. "I would not dream of lying to you. I do not jest either."

"Did… did he say why?" Viserys couldn't even muster enough energy to be truly angry. He was beyond rage; he was terrified.

"He said… the girl was lovely enough… but it was the dragon prince who appealed to him more."

The words made Viserys shiver. He remembered the way the Khal's eyes only spent a few seconds on Dany before they rose and met his. He baulked, wary of the way the Dothraki warlord's eyes stayed on him, and he could feel the flustered impatience build up inside him.

Look at her! He wanted to scream at him. She's what you've come for, you stupid savage!

But the Khal didn't look at Daenerys again, and after he rode away, his bloodriders close behind him, Viserys had been certain that the plan had failed. He'd been full of ire, and it was even worse than usual, especially since he couldn't blame his sister for it. This time it was the Dothraki's fault. Instead of cursing his frightened and confused little sister like she expected him to, he'd hidden up in his room for hours, muttering to himself about how Dany probably wasn't "horsey" enough for him.

And then the Magister arrived in his room after speaking to the Khal and told him even worse news. The plan hadn't been a total failure… but it certainly hadn't worked out as he'd expected it to. Drogo didn't want Daenerys, Illyrio claimed.

Khal Drogo wanted him instead.

"He realizes I intend to be king, I trust?" Viserys hissed, on the verge of pulling his hair out from sheer frustration. This is madness. "A king needs a queen. A king needs heirs. A king cannot be a horselord's little bitch."

"Your Grace…" Illyrio began carefully. "Nobody says you have to stay married to him. When you retake your throne, you will have enough forces to kill off the Dothraki you brought with you, and none would be brave enough to cross the sea they fear so irrationally again to go to war with an entire country."

"Why the hell would he even want to wed another man?" Viserys continued as if the Magister hadn't spoken. He couldn't wrap his head around Dothraki logic. "Isn't he some kind of King of the Savages, himself? He realizes that even if I was to agree to such insanity – and I'm by no means saying that I am – I cannot produce any heirs for him." He gestured to his slim, but very male, frame. "Obviously."

"A Khal's title is not always hereditary. And if he wants sons to carry on his legacy, he can simply have children with other Dothraki females. His spouse, however, is a much more important figurehead than any concubines who may bear his children. And a Khal is able to make a "consort" out of whomever he chooses, be it male or female. They are much more… open-minded, about such things."

Biting his bottom lip, the prince scratched the back of his head. "Do you truly believe your plan would work?" He asked. "About double-crossing the Dothraki?"

The older man nodded vigorously, the heavy jewellery he wore shaking noisily as he did. "Absolutely, your Grace. You've already waited this long for your throne. What are a few more months, with this kind of guarantee?"

"The difference is, for the last seventeen years, I didn't have some horse king wanting to shove his cock in me." The dragon prince snarled, raking his fingers through his white hair. "Try again." He ordered the Magister firmly, after a few more seconds of quiet thought. "Offer him Daenerys again, and see what happens. Perhaps he misunderstood the first time."

Illyrio opened his mouth to argue, but Viserys fixed him with a hard, cold stare that convinced him not to. The Magister gave him a low bow, and exited the room as swiftly as he came. Viserys fell onto his bed with an aggravated sigh, hoping that this was some kind of nightmare his sick mind conjured up to torment him with in his sleep, and that he would wake soon.

Alas, this was not the case. When he awoke some time later, he found his sister in his room, standing by the open window and gazing out of it thoughtfully. She was still wearing the lilac dress from this morning. He sat up slowly, and she looked over at him, startled by the sudden movement.

"What are you doing in here?" He mumbled, frowning at her.

"Magister Illyrio came back while you were still asleep. He left again… but he wanted me to tell you that he spoke to… him."

Viserys eagerly sat up further. "And? What did he say?"

"He said that he approached the Khal again and attempted to persuade him to… take me as a bride. Illyrio told me that he just shook his head and said only two words in response."

"Which were?" He pressed, gritting his teeth.

"Zhavvorsa khalakka." She spoke, soft as a whisper.

Viserys shook his head incredulously. "Which means…?"

Dany was silent for a few long moments, her expression indescribable. "Dragon prince. It means dragon prince in Dothraki."

Viserys had refused to allow that to be his final answer. He ordered Illyrio to send other men, each more cunning than the last, to bribe the Khal with all sorts of petty treasures in addition to marrying the beautiful Targaryen princess. Each time, he sent the men back, supposedly speaking only the same two words over and over again.

Zhavvorsa khalakka, zhavvorsa khalakka, zhavvorsa khalakka.

The words haunted him, and each day the Khal refused him drove him even madder. When the men Illyrio sent started coming back with broken body parts, Viserys knew he was running out of time, and that the priceless, fragile offer that had been presented to him was beginning to move further and further out of his reach.

He had to think of something, and quickly.

"What if I spoke to him?" He suggested one afternoon over a plate of lemon cakes and tea. Dany sat a small distance away from him, picking at her cake with no real interest in eating it. Luckily for her, Illyrio was more than happy to eat enough in her stead.

"I don't think that would be wise." He responded, wiping his mouth with a small, flowery handkerchief he produced from his pocket.

"And why not?" Viserys snapped crossly. "You're not exactly being helpful, Illyrio."

"I already offered you my council, your Grace." He tucked into another cake. "The Dothraki are not known for their reason or diplomacy. We've tried both, with men who possessed silver tongues capable of charming misers out of their last coins. We have nothing he wants… save for you."

His hands tightened into fists underneath the table, but Viserys forced himself to remain as calm as possible. Dany noticed her brother tense, and subconsciously inched away from him. "Let – me – talk – to him. This is not a request, Magister."

Needless to say, the Khal was not pleased about being dragged back to Illyrio's mansion a week later. The irritation he felt was evident on his features, but Viserys was certain it was nothing compared to how he felt. He stood beside Dany on the steps, and walked forward only when the Dothraki arrived, pulling their horses to a halt in the same position they had before. Illyrio rushed to their side, casting a worried, sidelong glance at the Targaryen siblings.

Viserys smiled tightly as the Magister spoke to him in Dothraki tongue, his hand resting on Dany's arm. She had her hand over his, gripping it in fear, shivering where she stood as she looked at the Khal. He nudged her sharply in the side, and she stood still. He didn't know what Illyrio was saying, but damn him, he'd better be convincing.

Once more, the whole time the Magister spoke, Khal Drogo didn't even look at him for longer than a few seconds. He didn't even look upon Dany at all. His eyes lingered on Viserys, and stayed there. Sometimes his gaze would wander down his body, and the Targaryen prince had to use every inch of willpower he possessed to keep himself standing still, and resisted the urge to find some way to cover his body from the Dothraki's sight. He felt oddly naked and vulnerable underneath his intense stare and he didn't like it.

Not one – little – bit.

Illyrio must've said something that pissed Drogo off. Before the Magister could finish talking, the Khal snarled and spat on the ground near him. In one fluid, oddly graceful motion, he dismounted his horse, and he was approaching the Targaryens before anybody could stop him. Daenerys made a frightened noise and hid behind her brother, and he didn't move to stop her. Viserys's smile faltered with every step the Khal took towards them.

He stopped exactly a foot away from Viserys, and the dragon prince tried not to flinch. He was not short himself, but Drogo towered over him. He was even more intimidating up close. Dany whimpered, her eyelids squeezed shut. Viserys met the Khal's eyes tentatively. He could almost feel the other man's body heat, he was so close.

Whatever he saw on Viserys's face seemed to please him well enough; he smirked at him. The prince resisted sneering in response. And then the damn savage went and repeated the mantra he'd been saying for the last week, the two words that drove Viserys to edge of madness.

"Zhavvorsa khalakka."

Something inside of him snapped. His resolve, perhaps. Nothing was going to persuade this stupid barbarian, he realized. He didn't want Dany, and nothing he could do or say would change his mind. Swallowing his revulsion, Viserys grimaced and felt his palms begin to sweat.

"Fine." He spat, his reluctant acquiescence leaving a bad after-taste in his mouth. "I'll marry you. Just get me my fucking crown."

With wide eyes, Illyrio repeated Viserys's surrender in a tongue he would understand (possibly a little more politely), and the smallest hint of a triumphant smile crept onto Khal Drogo's face; the same face that, at present, Viserys wanted to cut off and feed to his horse.

Magister Illyrio's previous words rung clear as a bell inside of his head. "You've already waited this long for your throne. What are a few more months, with this kind of guarantee?"

He would marry Khal Drogo, he decided. He would marry the King of the Savages, endure a few months of his marriage, get his Dothraki army, re-take the Iron Throne, and when he was King, he would chop the Khal's head off with a dull sword and stuff it on a pike in King's Landing.

With that mental image in mind, Viserys slowly smiled back at his betrothed.

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