Fandom: Game of Thrones AU
Pairing(s): Drogo/Viserys, Jorah/Daenerys, with hints/implications of Viserys/Daenerys.
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: Bumped to an M+! (Definitely a 18+ level now.)
Sexual content in this chapter! Dub-con, angst, implied incest and graphic descriptions of torture.
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: Sorry for the late update, guys! I got the worst writer's block around the beginning of the chapter and that didn't exactly make for the greatest start -_- so once more, I'm very sorry for the huge delay!
When the Khal came to him that evening, it was late but still earlier than his usual visits. He seemed mildly surprised to find Viserys sitting up waiting for him rather than having to wake the smaller man from his slumber to have his way with him. Up until that point, Viserys had strangely spent most of the evening staring at his dragon's eggs, his brows furrowed deeply. He wasn't entirely certain of why, but looking at the coloured fossils brought him a warmth beggaring description. Dead as dead they might've been, but they were once dragons. The irony perhaps was that to a degree Viserys felt as though he were similar to them in that way.
'Once mighty dragons with the potential to grow and thrive, fierce and strong, now reduced to nothing,' He thought, his fingers sliding over the smooth surface of the crimson egg. 'But I am not dead. I am dormant. The dragon will rise again.'
Viserys forced himself not to flinch when he saw that Khal Drogo was already naked and... eager. He braced himself, hissing in anticipation of pain of some sort as he approached. But he felt some kind of resolve renew inside of him, and instead of flinching away like a coward when his husband approached, he stood his ground (figuratively speaking, given he sitting on a bed of furs) and looked him in the eye.
Drogo didn't seem all that impressed with the defiance, however. He went to grab the smaller man's hips, but Viserys slapped his hands away. "No."
Ignoring him, the Khal tried again, and met the same resistance. "I said no, oaf."
The older man growled and his next attempt was much rougher; Viserys rose up, and in one fluid motion, grabbed the Khal by his shoulders, pushed him onto his back, and flipped one leg over his waist to straddle his hips. As Viserys looked at him, he wondered if Dothraki knew how to react to this sort of assertiveness. He'd seen nothing but blind submission from the females, and there were no other male-exclusive relationship existed in Drogo's khalasar, but judging from the look on his husband's face, this wasn't a common occurrence.
"I said…" he repeated, his face close to Drogo's, "no. I'm not your bitch, horselord. I'm nobody's bitch. I'm Viserys of the House Targaryen, rightful king of Westeros," very slowly, almost agonizingly, Viserys began rolling his hips, creating friction between Viserys' clothed groin and Drogo's exposed, hardened member. Viserys watched the Khal's face very closely, and found triumph in the way his lips parted and his eyes widened ever-so-slightly.
"You do not force me on my knees," he continued, his hands braced against Drogo's broad chest, "or take me from behind like an animal. I am not your plaything, nor your whore," he quickened the motion he was doing with his hips, grinding against the other man, "I am Viserys Targaryen…"
Drogo shot up suddenly, but instead of flipping Viserys on his back and totally nullifying everything he'd just said, he allowed Viserys to stay where he was, and instead settled with wrapping his arms around the younger man's slender frame, holding him close and watching him, just… looking. Admittedly, for a moment or two there, Viserys had felt the breath catch in his throat, and as he looked into Drogo's eyes, his lips just inches away, he finished his sentence, soft, and slightly breathless, surprising himself entirely, "… and I want to be treated with respect."
Khal Drogo, as if he understood, kissed him.
Life became much easier for Viserys Targaryen after that. It was safe for him to say his plan had succeeded. Drogo's blood riders and other members of the khalasar still mocked him, but Viserys would only smile venomously at their indistinguishable jibes with the knowledge that he practically had their mighty Drogo eating out of the palm of his hand night after night.
And it was true – to Viserys's astonishment, sex with the Khal was no longer was painful as it had been the first time – he blatantly refused to acknowledge it as being pleasurable, but the more pleasant and less agonizing it was, the easier everything was for him. On more than one occasion in the weeks that followed, Viserys was sorely tempted to bring up the unresolved matter of gaining the Iron Throne, and once, Viserys had finally managed to bring it up, but the Khal had brushed his questions aside, hastily pulling at his clothes, his mind clearly on something else. Viserys had seethed silently all evening, allowing the Khal a few more days of buttering up before he attempted again.
In the mean time, however, Viserys decided it was time for him to teach the Khal to speak and understand some of the common tongue beyond the words "no", "yes" and "don't stop". In exchange, he deemed it fruitful to learn a little Dothraki tongue in exchange. He would need to learn how to command the screamers his husband would provide for him, after all.
He sat across from Drogo in their tent one evening, perched on a small cushion. To begin with, Viserys was attempting to teach the Khal how to pronounce his name correctly, rather than being forced to endure being called "zhavvorsa khalakka" for the rest of their forsaken union. Unfortunately for Viserys, the Khal was not in a studious mood. The younger man had to constantly push the eager hands of his husband away from the belt of his pants, hissing in annoyance when Drogo buried his face in the hollow of his neck.
"Away, you hulking monstrosity." Viserys snapped, using both of his hands to scramble for purchase against the Khal's massive body. Gripping onto his shoulders, he gave him a firm push backwards – not hard enough to signal violent resistance, however. Khal Drogo made a frustrated noise, and looked him in the eye.
Viserys stared him down, his mouth twisted into a scowl. "Vis-air-iss. Say it after me."
The corner of the Khal's mouth picked up in a challenging smirk.
"Zhavvorsa khalakka," he said, and tried to kiss Viserys again.
Said dragon prince silently cursed him to all seven hells and pushed him back once more. "Now you're deliberately trying to piss me off. I get laughed at by your khalasar every day, by your bloodriders, I have to travel a long way on horseback through muck and filth, and then at nights when I am tired and sore from riding I have to endure you fucking me constantly. The least you can do – the very least – is call me by my name."
Viserys wasn't sure if the Khal understood him word-for-word or not, but the vehemence in his voice was enough to make Drogo sit back for a few moments, frowning to himself. The Khal raised his hand, and Viserys flinched, thinking he was going to hit him. Stunned, he watched with wide eyes as Drogo touched the bottom of his chin, tilting his head up to force the dragon prince to look him directly in the eye. Viserys met his gaze with fiery defiance, but being in such a vulnerable position around this menacing man never ceased to be intimidating.
Khal Drogo smiled at him again, but this smile veiled no ridicule. "Vee-sar-ees."
Viserys blinked twice in surprise. "I… close. Viserys. Vis-air-iss."
The frown stayed on the older man's face as he tried to wrap his tongue around the foreign pronunciation. "Vi-sar-es."
The younger man licked his teeth impatiently. Resisting the temptation to roll his eyes, he leaned forward and placed a firm hand on his husband's crotch, looking at his face to gauge the effects of doing so. The Khal's eyes tightened, and the apple in his throat bobbed. With some effort, Viserys managed to keep the smug smile off his face, and leaned in close, his lips ghosting over the Khal's, close enough to touch but not enough to kiss.
"Vis… air… iss," he breathed, his unblinking eyes vibrant. He squeezed, and the Khal made a noise in the back of his throat. With some effort, he managed a very rough but relatively correct pronunciation of his name, and Viserys decided that for tonight, that was enough, and allowed the Khal to kiss him.
Before they'd even pulled back to take a breath, outside of the tent, somewhere in the night, a woman began to scream. Viserys stopped suddenly, frowning as he recognized the voice. Alarmed, he scrambled to get away from Khal Drogo.