READ: I originally intended to start from square one to rewrite this story. I posted it under the same name A Time For Wolves; however, I got PM from readers saying they could not review it. I found out from Fanfiction support it was a glitch with my account. The story was not in recovery. I was not going to start all over so I recovered this version. I will post the new chapters onto this story and continue it.
This is the completely new rewrite!
Her cheek once pale now burned red from her brother's hard slap. Unlike many years ago when she'd cower in fear, she now seized, became motionless while he raged his spite out on her.
He sighed in exasperation, "See what you made me do sweet sister?" He took a rag from a wash basin, pressed it gently to the small cut that had formed at the edges of her lips. "Do you know why I did that?"
Daenerys was numb to it, "Because I woke the dragon." Her voice was a subtle whisper on the brink of a whimper.
"Yes," Viserys sighed again this time more calmly. "You woke the dragon. And how do we not awake the dragon?"
"I must not talk back only listen," Daenerys murmured her amethyst eyes downcast.
"Good," Viserys smirked. He pulled the noose from her gown and let it pool the ground. He circled her, predator and prey. He surveyed her body, tilted his head one way and another, and shook his head in ire. "Stand up straight, you are not some common whore, you are a princess, the daughter of the dragon." His hand brushed along the spine of her back to straighten her posture, his fingers glided up along her breast buds until they pinched the soft skin of her pale nipple, the pinches became harder. "You know I do not find pleasure in hurting you, you must think of me as cruel. But, sweet sister, you need to learn your role if we are ever to return home."
"I understand," Daenerys whispered softly. His finger fell along her taut stomach, until they fell away altogether.
"Good," Viserys leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I need you to be perfect tomorrow. You will become the khal's queen. Now take a bath, you reek."
She had been bathed and sent to bed, the red mark on her cheek would fade by morning.
In the morning she was bathed, dressed in a violet gown that accented her eyes perfectly. She watched a man astride upon a horse gallop to a halt before Illyrio, their caretaker for the time being. Her brother whispered words of the great khal to her, she trembled, she would not let the tears glossing her eyes fall. She was blood of the dragon. It was not until Illyrio called her forward did her trembles die; she straightened herself and raised her head proudly as she could with an air of grace she did not feel she stepped forward beside the old man.
Dark almond eyes scrutinized her; she stared back, swallowed harshly at the intensity of the Dothraki man's gaze. The khal said nothing, turned his stallion to the left and galloped away. She heard her brother rush forward to her side, heard his quick exchange of words with Illyrio. Her eyes stung with fresh tears, she turned quickly to her brother, nearly weeping. "I don't want to be his queen." She whispered weakly as she clung to her brother's forearm. "Please Viserys; please don't make me do this."
Viserys's gaze was unforgiving. "Ever since the day you killed our mother I have looked after you, raised you, protected you. I did everything for you, was everything for you. Can you not do this one thing for me? Do you think it's fair for a sister not to help her only living brother, the rightful king of the seven kingdoms?"
Daenerys shivered when his hands came up slowly to wrap around her shoulders, his nails dug harshly in into her tender flesh, she did not wince or pull away. Her hands fell from his forearms, her face once again an impassive mask. "No." She nodded slowly, her gaze fell to the ground.
"Good," Viserys kissed her cheek, the one he'd slapped, it still ached. "We all must make sacrifices in the greater scheme of things, and this is your sacrifice sweet sister, do you understand?"
"I understand," Daenerys had managed out shakily, but she didn't, not truly. They were empty words. Westeros had been her brother's ambition, not hers, yet she must pay for his demands of an army.
"Good, because I would let his whole tribe fuck you, all forty thousand men and their horses too if that's what it took to get my army." Viserys sneered, Daenerys stared at him emotionlessly. Words struck deeper than swords and daggers.
They had returned to the manse, Daenerys stood gazing out her window as she often did, now more so. Her brother would not save her from her fate. She could hear him approach. "Illyrio will send the slaves to draw you a bath, tomorrow you will be married. Can you imagine how pained I will be to see you marry that barbarian? You were meant to be my bride as our family has done for centuries. But, alas, when I reclaim the seven kingdoms I will kill that Dothraki khal and you will warm my bed as you were meant to." His smile was cold. "Smile sister, the khal will be more taken with you when you." He kissed her cheek again.
She was blood of the dragon, bride of fire and dragons, fire and blood that was what she knew, all she knew.
Daenerys looked at the chest that sat before her bed; inside it laid three dragon eggs. A gift from Illyrio, a gift for a princess bride he had said. A princess, she'd thought, she felt more of a prisoner than the dragon's daughter Viserys claimed her to be.
'I am Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, blood of the dragon, bride of fire, daughter of the dragon, and my fire will not be put out.' She willed the words to carry any weight, any strength, they did little of either. Daenerys kneeled to her knees before the chest, her fingers glided along the scales of the dragon eggs, she felt a warmth seep through into her fingertips. 'You will be my fire.' A small smile touched her lips. 'My fire and blood, and my fire will not be taken from me.'
After she'd been bathed and dressed in a sleep gown, she changed into a pale silver gown, a simple clothed cloak to hide her. She often would sneak out from the manse and make her way into the streets of Pentos, never venturing too far in fear of being found. Viserys's wrath would be worse if he found out she disobeyed him. They had escaped certain death of hired assassins all their life. One peek of silver hair and her life could be ended. If she were to wed this khal, she would enjoy one more night to herself, one of her own choice and freedom she'd wanted. Freedom, it felt as if it were never meant to be hers, always someone else's her brother, and now this Khal Drogo. It was never hers, nothing was ever hers. Except the dragon eggs that burned in the cloth bag at her side, hidden away beneath her cloak. At first she'd nearly collapsed from the weight the three eggs carried, but she could not leave them behind, they were hers, hers only. And they would remain hers.
She had watched with fascination of the life of the Pentoshi people, saw the women who lingered to sell their bodies for a coin. Daenerys's face fell, her body was being sold for an army. She had been so lost in thought, wandered farther from the manse then before. It was in the dark of an alley she'd experience fear outside of her brother, when men drunk on wine and stinking of filth would stumble to try and catch her arm, when they'd throw horrible words at her, whore, slut, bed-warmer, she'd felt tears form fast and furious in her eyes. It was not until one particular man made a grasp for her that he tore her free of her hood, she gasped, hurried out of his grasp and tucked her hood securely back over her silver locks. If a Westerosi man were to see her, he'd kill her on the spot. It was what Viserys had told her, all the men who had bowed to the usurper were his dogs, and he'd kill them all for their treachery.
She did not hear him approach, only when it was far too late. A hand snaked tightly around her waist, a dagger dug into the fabric and her skin, a hand covered her mouth and a voice hissed coolly into her ear, "Make a sound and I will gut you where you stand do you understand?"
Daenerys gave a single nod, tears fell from her eyes. They fell more when she was tugged into an unknown direction, when she tried to move the dagger dug deeper into her flesh and she halted. She was hoisted onto a horse, her hands tied to the horn of the saddle of a beautiful pale white mare, her mane and tail nearly silver as her hair. She was a young, spirited thing. Daenerys would have basked in her beauty if she were not so terrified. The man mounted his own horse, a bay gelding. He turned to look at her; he was older than Viserys, but younger than Illyrio.
"If you make a sound girl I will kill you," He snapped at her, his eyes banked with all his intent to carry out the words he'd spoken.
Daenerys only nodded swiftly, the man studied her for a moment, and her tears gleamed in the pale moonlight. She saw what she could only hope was a flicker of remorse in his eyes, but they were soon replaced by cold hard steel.
He motioned his gelding into a fast trot until they were outside the city walls heading for the harbor, he rode his horse hard and fast, Daenerys had struggled to keep her seat, her body ached from being tousled, her thighs ached from squeezing so hard to stay upright, her hands bound to the horn, if she fell she'd be dragged along the mare to her death. She would whimper as she rose and fell back hard against the saddle. The filly would throw her head back in obvious annoyance at the unsteady weight of her; the mare would stumble at times at the unevenly distributed heaviness on her back.
Finally they stopped riding, Daenerys nearly doubled over the mare's neck, but her bound hands prevented her as she was instead thrown back unceremoniously into the saddle. The man dismounted his horse, came to her and unbound her hands and hoisted her off the mare. The filly snorted to be free of her; Daenerys winced as she nearly stumbled from the pain between her legs. The man steadied her.
Daenerys looked up at him with a single tremble, "Thank you." She murmured so softly he almost didn't hear her.
"Do not thank me," The man sighed, his tone almost rueful. Daenerys said no more. He tied her hands again, cast her a stern look. "Not a word."
"I won't," Daenerys managed out evenly as she could. He made sure her hood was on securely, covered her face.
"Good," He said gruffly, he led her and the horses towards a large trader's ship, she'd seen some of Illyrio's before, this one was not as grand of course, and it smelt of fish and the sea. This ship was larger than normal for a trader's ship; she'd known them to be larger when used for smuggling people or animals across the seas. "Can you take us to Westeros?"
"Where to?" The man asked as he cast an eye at the woman behind him.
"King's Landing," The man answered, he'd heard her sudden inhale, could imagine her tense behind him.
"Who is she?" The man sneered.
"A gift, a slave to warm the king's bed," The man smiled slightly. "King Robert likes them exotic."
The man laughed, it was a horrid sound, so cruel and unkind. "Pentos is known to have some of the most exotic women available. Your king has fine taste." He eyed her up and down, unable to see her eyes or face. "But I am not traveling to King's Landing."
"Where are you traveling to?" The man asked he was trying to keep his composure, but frustration was quick on its heels.
"I am going to White Harbor in the north of Westeros," The trader explained, he shuddered. "It is a cold place even in the spring and summer. Why anyone lives there is beyond me."
The man's hands fisted, his teeth clenched, and Daenerys saw his shoulders go rigid before he released a slow, tensioned breath. "Alright, that will do." He went to retrieve gold coins from a small coin bag at his hip.
"That will be double the cost," The trader quipped suddenly, the man glared at him. The trader shrugged, "It will be nearly a month's or more trip."
"Fine," The man sighed as he handed the trader his pay. "I want the best lodging."
The trader glared, "Fine, you would only be so lucky as you are my only customer today." He took his coins and motioned for them to board with their horses. "Food and hay will cost you extra."
The man paused and glared, tossed the trader a few more coins. "That should cover it all and more."
"Very good," The trader smiled eerily. "I hope you enjoy the journey."
The man glared at him before continuing on, he settled the horses below before taking Daenerys to the room. He opened it and with a hard yank she stumbled into the room and he shut the door securely. He took a dagger from his hip, Daenerys tensed, stepped back until her knees hit the bed and she fell back onto it. The man loomed over her. Daenerys trembled, this is how it would end for her, she would die now, and the thought almost calmed her. Maybe death would not be so horrible, she'd escaped it long enough, and she would finally have rest and freedom from a life always owned by others, never hers.
"Do it, kill me." Daenerys whispered steadily, no emotion or fear was in her eyes.
"No," The man said gruffly as he cut her bindings. Daenerys looked at him curiously as she rubbed her wrists. "You do not need to be tied up here. You cannot run away on a ship at sea." Daenerys said nothing simply stared at the red marks on her wrists. The man continued to watch her, she was a strange girl. "Are you so eager to die? You had the look of a man who'd accepted his death a moment ago."
"If I want to die is that so terrible?" Daenerys murmured as amethyst eyes stared up at him with morbid composure.
"Why do you want to die?" The man questioned.
"Why did you kidnap me?" Daenerys asked as he stared at her, she hesitated for a moment expecting him to slap her, Viserys would have by now and done more.
"I know who you are girl," The man said with little compassion. "You are a Targaryen; a blind man could see it. The king will pay a fine price for your head in Westeros."
"You took me to earn money?" Daenerys spoke the words carefully. "My brother could have paid you more if you returned me."
"The beggar king, what riches does he have?" The man almost laughed in amusement, Daenerys felt annoyance rise in her. "Illyrio would pay it on his behalf."
"That may be, but I want more than money, girl." The man said as his voice grew thick with emotions she did not know.
"What could a man want more than money?" Daenerys asked quietly.
"To go home," The older man sighed, he appeared wary and melancholy. "You will die Daenerys Targaryen, but not by my hands. Your life is for the king to take."
Daenerys felt the tears form in her eyes, "Does he care so much if I come to him dead or alive? He will not make it a painless death."
"I'm sorry girl," The man seemed almost apologetic. "It is not my right to take your life."
"You did take my life," Daenerys hissed at him through her tears. "And now you are delivering me to the usurper to do what you could not. You will be no less guilty of my death."
The man frowned at her, "Get some sleep; it will be a long journey."
She did not know where the fire ignited, but it simmered angrily in her. "What is your name?"
"Go to sleep," He said as he turned to go to the door.
"You owe it to me!" Daenerys demanded of him, she surprised herself, but she felt justified.
This man had taken it upon himself to take her and deliver her to the king to torture and kill as he liked. She felt her body tremble at the mere thought of the man who'd killed her brother at the Trident, who'd singlehandedly set out to find and slaughter every Targaryen he could, except for two. Viserys had told her stories of Robert Baratheon and his dogs, her house had been reduced to ashes of its former glory, Targaryens were on the brink of extinction, they were a dying breed.
The man stared at her, he was not appealing to the eyes, but his eyes did not carry an evil as some men she'd seen did, like her brother, the men who hungered after the women who sold their bodies. They almost appeared kind. "My name is Jorah Mormont." When Daenerys said no more he left the room, sealed it with lock and key.
She would always be a prisoner, at the mercy of others, her life was not her own; only meant to be sold off for a price. Even death would not come without a price. Daenerys drew out her eggs, lay upon the bed, and tugged her eggs and cloak tightly around herself.
"I am blood of the dragon," Daenerys whispered, pressed her cheek into the heated egg. "A dragon does not fear, does not cry." Her brother had told her many times when she'd silently weep from the hurts he'd given her. "A dragon does not hide; it flies high for all its enemies to see." The soft rocking motion of the boat began to lull her into a restless slumber. "A dragon does not flee, a dragon fights." She fell asleep surrounded by her eggs.
End of Chapter!
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