Daenerys Targaryen wed Khal Drogo with fear and barbaric splendor in a field beyond the walls ofPentos, for the Dothraki believed that all things of importance in a man’s life must be done beneaththe open sky.

Drogo had called his khalasar to attend him and they had come, forty thousand Dothraki warriorsand uncounted numbers of women, children, and slaves. Outside the city walls they camped with theirvast herds, raising palaces of woven grass, eating everything in sight, and making the good folk ofPentos more anxious with every passing day.

“My fellow magisters have doubled the size of the city guard,” Illyrio told them over platters ofhoney duck and orange snap peppers one night at the manse that had been Drogo’s. The khal hadjoined his khalasar, his estate given over to Daenerys and her brother until the wedding.

“Best we get Princess Daenerys wedded quickly before they hand half the wealth of Pentos awayto sellswords and bravos,” Ser Jorah Mormont jested. The exile had offered her brother his sword thenight Dany had been sold to Khal Drogo; Viserys had accepted eagerly. Mormont had been theirconstant companion ever since.

Magister Illyrio laughed lightly through his forked beard, but Viserys did not so much as smile.

“He can have her tomorrow, if he likes,” her brother said. He glanced over at Dany, and she loweredher eyes. “So long as he pays the price.”

Illyrio waved a languid hand in the air, rings glittering on his fat fingers. “I have told you, all issettled. Trust me. The khal has promised you a crown, and you shall have it.”

“Yes, but when?”

“When the khal chooses,” Illyrio said. “He will have the girl first, and after they are wed he mustmake his procession across the plains and present her to the dosh khaleen at Vaes Dothrak. After that,perhaps. If the omens favor war.”

Viserys seethed with impatience. “I piss on Dothraki omens. The Usurper sits on my father’sthrone. How long must I wait?”

Illyrio gave a massive shrug. “You have waited most of your life, great king. What is another fewmonths, another few years?”

Ser Jorah, who had traveled as far east as Vaes Dothrak, nodded in agreement. “I counsel you to bepatient, Your Grace. The Dothraki are true to their word, but they do things in their own time. Alesser man may beg a favor from the khal, but must never presume to berate him.”

Viserys bristled. “Guard your tongue, Mormont, or I’ll have it out. I am no lesser man, I am therightful Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. The dragon does not beg.”

Ser Jorah lowered his eyes respectfully. Illyrio smiled enigmatically and tore a wing from the duck.

Honey and grease ran over his fingers and dripped down into his beard as he nibbled at the tendermeat. There are no more dragons, Dany thought, staring at her brother, though she did not dare say italoud.

Yet that night she dreamt of one. Viserys was hitting her, hurting her. She was naked, clumsy withfear. She ran from him, but her body seemed thick and ungainly. He struck her again. She stumbledand fell. “You woke the dragon,” he screamed as he kicked her. “You woke the dragon, you woke thedragon.” Her thighs were slick with blood. She closed her eyes and whimpered. As if in answer, therewas a hideous ripping sound and the crackling of some great fire. When she looked again, Viseryswas gone, great columns of flame rose all around, and in the midst of them was the dragon. Itturned its great head slowly. When its molten eyes found hers, she woke, shaking and covered with afine sheen of sweat. She had never been so afraid …tturned its great head slowly. When its molten eyes found hers, she woke, shaking and covered with afine sheen of sweat. She had never been so afraid …… until the day of her wedding came at last.

The ceremony began at dawn and continued until dusk, an endless day of drinking and feasting andfighting. A mighty earthen ramp had been raised amid the grass palaces, and there Dany was seatedbeside Khal Drogo, above the seething sea of Dothraki. She had never seen so many people in oneplace, nor people so strange and frightening. The horselords might put on rich fabrics and sweetperfumes when they visited the Free Cities, but out under the open sky they kept the old ways. Menand women alike wore painted leather vests over bare chests and horsehair leggings cinched bybronze medallion belts, and the warriors greased their long braids with fat from the rendering pits.

They gorged themselves on horseflesh roasted with honey and peppers, drank themselves blind onfermented mare’s milk and Illyrio’s fine wines, and spat jests at each other across the fires, theirvoices harsh and alien in Dany’s ears.

Viserys was seated just below her, splendid in a new black wool tunic with a scarlet dragon on thechest. Illyrio and Ser Jorah sat beside him. Theirs was a place of high honor, just below the khal’sown bloodriders, but Dany could see the anger in her brother’s lilac eyes. He did not like sittingbeneath her, and he fumed when the slaves offered each dish first to the khal and his bride, and servedhim from the portions they refused. He could do nothing but nurse his resentment, so nurse it he did,his mood growing blacker by the hour at each insult to his person.

Dany had never felt so alone as she did seated in the midst of that vast horde. Her brother had toldher to smile, and so she smiled until her face ached and the tears came unbidden to her eyes. She didher best to hide them, knowing how angry Viserys would be if he saw her crying, terrified of howKhal Drogo might react. Food was brought to her, steaming joints of meat and thick black sausagesand Dothraki blood pies, and later fruits and sweetgrass stews and delicate pastries from the kitchensof Pentos, but she waved it all away. Her stomach was a roil, and she knew she could keep none of itdown.

There was no one to talk to. Khal Drogo shouted commands and jests down to his bloodriders, andlaughed at their replies, but he scarcely glanced at Dany beside him. They had no common language.

Dothraki was incomprehensible to her, and the khal knew only a few words of the bastard Valyrian ofthe Free Cities, and none at all of the Common Tongue of the Seven Kingdoms. She would even havewelcomed the conversation of Illyrio and her brother, but they were too far below to hear her.

So she sat in her wedding silks, nursing a cup of honeyed wine, afraid to eat, talking silently toherself. I am blood of the dragon, she told herself. I am Daenerys Stormborn, Princess ofDragonstone, of the blood and seed of Aegon the Conqueror.

The sun was only a quarter of the way up the sky when she saw her first man die. Drums werebeating as some of the women danced for the khal. Drogo watched without expression, but his eyesfollowed their movements, and from time to time he would toss down a bronze medallion for thewomen to fight over.

The warriors were watching too. One of them finally stepped into the circle, grabbed a dancer bythe arm, pushed her down to the ground, and mounted her right there, as a stallion mounts a mare.

Illyrio had told her that might happen. “The Dothraki mate like the animals in their herds. There is noprivacy in a khalasar, and they do not understand sin or shame as we do.”

Dany looked away from the coupling, frightened when she realized what was happening, but asecond warrior stepped forward, and a third, and soon there was no way to avert her eyes. Then twomen seized the same woman. She heard a shout, saw a shove, and in the blink of an eye the arakhswere out, long razor-sharp blades, half sword and half scythe. A dance of death began as the warriorscircled and slashed, leaping toward each other, whirling the blades around their heads, shriekinginsults at each clash. No one made a move to interfere.

It ended as quickly as it began. The arakhs shivered together faster than Dany could follow, oneman missed a step, the other swung his blade in a flat arc. Steel bit into flesh just above the Dothraki’swaist, and opened him from backbone to belly button, spilling his entrails into the dust. As the loserdied, the winner took hold of the nearest woman—not even the one they had been quarreling over—and had her there and then. Slaves carried off the body, and the dancing resumed.

Magister Illyrio had warned Dany about this too. “A Dothraki wedding without at least three deathsis deemed a dull affair,” he had said. Her wedding must have been especially blessed; before theday was over, a dozen men had died.

As the hours passed, the terror grew in Dany, until it was all she could do not to scream. She wasafraid of the Dothraki, whose ways seemed alien and monstrous, as if they were beasts in human skinsand not true men at all. She was afraid of her brother, of what he might do if she failed him. Most ofall, she was afraid of what would happen tonight under the stars, when her brother gave her up to thehulking giant who sat drinking beside her with a face as still and cruel as a bronze mask.

I am the blood of the dragon, she told herself again.

When at last the sun was low in the sky, Khal Drogo clapped his hands together, and the drums andthe shouting and feasting came to a sudden halt. Drogo stood and pulled Dany to her feet beside him.

It was time for her bride gifts.

And after the gifts, she knew, after the sun had gone down, it would be time for the first ride andthe consummation of her marriage. Dany tried to put the thought aside, but it would not leave her. Shehugged herself to try to keep from shaking.

Her brother Viserys gifted her with three handmaids. Dany knew they had cost him nothing; Illyriono doubt had provided the girls. Irri and Jhiqui were copper-skinned Dothraki with black hair andalmond-shaped eyes, Doreah a fair-haired, blue-eyed Lysene girl. “These are no common servants,sweet sister,” her brother told her as they were brought forward one by one. “Illyrio and I selectedthem personally for you. Irri will teach you riding, Jhiqui the Dothraki tongue, and Doreah willinstruct you in the womanly arts of love.” He smiled thinly. “She’s very good, Illyrio and I can bothswear to that.”

Ser Jorah Mormont apologized for his gift. “It is a small thing, my princess, but all a poor exilecould afford,” he said as he laid a small stack of old books before her. They were histories and songsof the Seven Kingdoms, she saw, written in the Common Tongue. She thanked him with all her heart.

Magister Illyrio murmured a command, and four burly slaves hurried forward, bearing betweenthem a great cedar chest bound in bronze. When she opened it, she found piles of the finest velvetsand damasks the Free Cities could produce … ............