#the man just gets better and better with age despite his constant whingeing about it

[evenstar]

I'm not entirely sure why this made me burst into tears, but here we are. I fucking love this band with all my heart and then some.

...and I wanna be in love with the man I used to be...

[buirbaby]

The Wardens: The Dothraki Sea

Rating: M + Mature themes, language, and violence

Warnings: Themes of a child being wed and underage sex implied (as is canonical)

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Viserys Targaryen was not difficult to pick out, a blazing beacon amongst the tanned and dark haired Dothraki, in a fine silken tabard with the black and crimson of his house. For someone who had been decent looking in the show, Taliya was somewhat taken aback by the beauty that those descended from High Valyrian blood possessed. From the long silver blonde hair, to the fair skin, and the pale lilac eyes, admittedly, she was staring a bit longer than she ought to. However, the moment that Viserys noticed that she was gazing at him, she saw the hard lines of his face and the gaunt shadows that made him appear more emmaciated than robust. There was a sparkle, a maddened glimmer, that ripped a shiver down her back despite the heat burgeoning in the air as the wedding was about to begin.

Even if she had snapped at Benjen, it was only his presence beside her, the one true constant since arriving in Essos, that kept her from balking. Taliya could be brazen, she could be snarky, and she could be clever, but she was human and she had fears. She feared men who made eyes like that and even as she held the certainty that she'd carefully woven the web that got them there, she couldn't help but anxiously think of the unknowns and fickleness of this realm that could get her killed in an instant. With the way that he was looking at her now, she could only presume that the young man, barely on the cusp of passing his teenage years, was undressing her with his eyes.

Despite looking youthful, maybe even in her 20s, Taliya was more akin in age to Benjen than the Targaryen. Age didn't seem to matter here. Just appearances, connections, and gold. A comely woman was a comely woman. She'd never considered herself anything exceptional back on earth, but here she supposed she was rather good looking. Lean, athletic, a symmetrical face, and a wide, pearly white and straight smile. Things taken for granted, simply 'normal' back on earth, were signs of wealth or nobility in this world. Few commoners took half as much time grooming themselves as Taliya subconsciously did.

"I heard that there would be embassies from the Red Temple, but I did not expect them to be Westerosi," Viserys parted from a knight beside him-a large middle aged-man with dark hair.

While Viserys was focused on her, Taliya knew this was the moment of truth, whether or not Jorah Mormont would recognize the man beside her. He was shorter than she thought he'd be, but was twice as broad as Benjen. Despite his exile, he still took a fancy to wearing the dark green tunic displaying the standing black bear of House Mormont. His eyes flickered between them, landing curiously on Ben, but after a lingering moment, they repositioned on her.

"Followers of the Lord of Light come in many shapes and sizes, your grace," Taliya retorted crisply. "I am Taliya Sand and my companion is Ben Rivers."

"Bastards," Viserys observed.

"Bastards can find meaningful ways to live their lives," Taliya replied in turn.

"No doubt, much of Essos is evidence of this," Viserys waved dismissively. "To what do we owe the honor of the Lord of Light's ambassadors? My own family followed the Faith."

"The Lord of Light is here to bless the wedding," Taliya said lightly, but unfurled a tight smile. "But His gaze also extends past this union and toward the future. We are here as representatives for our Lord in your future endeavors. Perhaps your family followed the Faith, but I ask you, what did the Seven do when the Baratheons stormed Dragonstone and the Lannisters turned their swords inward toward the Targaryens? Regardless on whether you decide to convert, your grace, we have come here to be of service." Brushing back her scarves, she lifted Fate from her hip, scabbard and all to prevent the Valyrian steel from seeing the light of dawn, before she knelt. Ben mirrored her efforts, head bowed as they stooped before Viserys. "If you should accept our swords."

The prince paused, his eyes flitting between the pair, before his lips curled impishly. "The Dornish allow their women to fight, don't they?" he inquired, keeping them where they knelt.

"Yes, your grace," Taliya answered.

"The Seven never did answer the prayers of the Targaryens as they were slaughtered. I'd like to hear more about your Lord of Light. Rise," Viserys decided, motioning for them both to stand. "I acquire more swords by the day," he said smugly. "And after my sister weds this horselord, I'll have enough to retake what is rightfully mine."

"Your grace, it appears the wedding is about to begin," Jorah Mormont intercepted, still sparing the both of them wary glances.

"Right, let's get this over with," Viserys waved.

Illyrio joined them soon after, huffing with each step as they stood toward the front of the crowd as Daenerys and Khal Drogo were wed. Reading about a 13 year old girl getting married in a book was different than witnessing it in real life. A child, a little older than a third of Taliya's own age, stood frightened and tiny beside the great shadow of the Khal. She was a demure thing, none of what made her a conqueror or queen stiffening her spine. Dany was young, inexperienced, and had yet to step through the harrowing trials that would fashion her into a ruler.

Had Viserys believed that this was going to be a short ordeal, a simple ceremony, and then they'd be off--he was sorely mistaken. The first part of the wedding included the words, in Dothraki, before cheering ensued and the feast was kicked off. Inside the shade of the tent, Drogo and Daenerys were seated upon a dias.

"I should be up there," Viserys muttered, glaring up toward the Khal as he called for a toast, raising a horn of wine. "I am a king."

"The rightful king of Westeros," Ben remarked evenly. "Here, we are in the Khal's domain and it is his day for celebration." This should have been obvious, but the jaded lilac eyes of Viserys pinned a glare at the Stark.

This did not get better as the newlyweds were fed first. Viserys put in another wounded comment about how a king ought to be fed before his sister and her husband. Taliya wanted to bang her head against a wall, listening to the sniveling of a teenager who thought himself a man and walked with the weight of a sword that she knew he couldn't use. She had to pretend to like him for a time, to be loyal to him, despite the fact that it was Daenerys that she and Ben were there for.

Thankfully, there was a bit of entertainment to keep Viserys from whinging the entire time, but it wasn't the most... wholesome of shows. Dothraki danced to the beating of drums, the line between proper and modest erased completely as men mounted women like animals in the open. Fights erupted over women, which devolved into fighting and blood spilling in the sand before the victor took what they had originally laid claim to. By the end of the day, there had been a dozen deaths, which meant that the wedding was going on exceptionally.

Just as they'd arrived at sunrise, it was sunset that indicated the last portion of the wedding. The dramatic huffing from Viserys indicated his own disdain for the length which this all was dragging on. While unlike any wedding that Taliya had ever witnessed, she had to admit that she wasn't bored. With the bridal gifting upon them, they were resigned until waiting their turn, which came to be after Viserys, Illyrio, and Jorah. The three handmaidens, Irri, Jhiqui, and Doreah, were proposed to Dany... Not much older than herself.

Jorah's gifts were of books in the Common tongue, which brightened the girl's face and she thanked him repeatedly. While not as luxurious or brilliant as many of the more decadent gifts, it was something she could use to pass time and for enjoyment.

Illyrio's gift of the dragon eggs drew the attention of her brother. They were magnificent and undoubtedly, Viserys believed that he deserved them more than the girl wedding a horselord. Jealousy was rapt on his face as he stood back, arms crossed, as Dany ran her fingers over the stone ripples. Once she had finished admiring them, the trunk was closed and moved aside, her eyes flicking up to drink in Taliya and Ben.

The girl had spared them a few looks between her nervous smiles up on the plinth during the feast. They were strangers, dressed queerly, and sitting beside her brother. Rather than remain stone faced and impassive, Taliya relaxed her countenance and broke a smile as she stepped forward with Ben. Bequeathed in their arms was a gift similar to Jorah's, but different. They had not been as poor as the knight, but Taliya had remembered how the books had been well received by Daenerys in the pages of Martin's writing.

"Khaleesi, our gifts to you are books from Valyria before the Doom," Taliya explained, keenly aware of how expensive the tomes were, as many men had died passing these between hands. Despite how old they were, they were still relatively intact, but written exclusively in High Valyrian. Sitting upon the bundle that Taliya held was the bouquet that she had fashioned from the flowers acquired on their way to the wedding. "None have ever returned from the Smoking Sea, so there may not be any others like this aside from at the Citadel. We hope that these gifts will suffice."

"From Old Valyria?" Daenerys muttered, but her eyes had brightened just as they did when Jorah had brought forth books. "These are wonderful, rare gifts. I'm sorry, but I didn't quite catch your names-"

"Taliya Sand and Ben Rivers, Khaleesi," she bowed her head, passing the books from bloodrider, then in turn Daenerys. "We are swords of the Lord of Light."

"The Red God," Daenerys recalled, having lived in Braavos for a time, undoubtedly passing by followers of the religion until this point. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

Turning away to let the next guests gift the Khaleesi, they settled back as the night winded down and Drogo was the last to gift Daenerys. The girl's final test of the day would be to please her husband, the very thought twisting knots in Taliya's stomach. Her arms crossed, a stiff line to her shoulders, and sharp eyes surveying the thick crowd as the newlyweds finally parted way from the khalasar and the finer attendees made to leave for the evening, including Illyrio.

"You look as if you could kill a man," Ben mused, nudging her with an elbow as they started back toward their horses to unpack and pitch their tents for the evening. They did not possess any regal yurts or beds or anything more than a bedroll and tarp enough to keep a roof over their heads and shade during the hot mornings. Here, they were not nobles, they were soldiers. Luxury was not on their side, but to be honest, she did not mind. The tent reminded her of those that she'd used when hiking long distances, intended for a single person and to be easily packed up each day.

"Perhaps I could, if the wrong one bothers me," Taliya snipped glibly, pulling down the rolls from the back of the saddle.

"It's more than that," Ben gleaned perceptively.

She wanted to curse at him, to tell him to shut up, but pursed her lips. Getting feisty with the only friend she had would do more harm than make her feel better. Perhaps he was good at reading people because he'd been First Ranger with many subordinates beneath him. "Where I come from, we don't marry little girls off like that," she sighed. "She was basically a gift horse, the cost for 40,000 swords. I can't even imagine her getting pregnant when she's little more than a child herself."

"It's not much different in Westeros," Ben admitted with a frown. "When a girl flowers, she's considered old enough to wed."

"That doesn't mean it's right," Taliya countered. "She's the same age as your niece. Could you imagine the same happening to her?"

Ben didn't seem to like the comparison. "And where you are from, how old do girls usually marry?"

"When they want. From 18 and above usually, but there are exceptions for 16 year olds. Some women don't wed at all," she shrugged.

"And you never-"

"No, I did not," she told him, her mood lightening at the questioning glance he continued to spare her. "I'm not a maiden if that's what you're continuing to wonder. Virginity is not as taboo as it is here."

"You didn't have to-"

"Oh shut up, you were wondering about it," Taliya snickered, punching the man lightly on the shoulder. "Oh Lord, you're a sweaty mess. It wasn't even that hot today," she wiped her knuckles off on her trousers, slick with the dampness from his doublet.

"Not that hot? It was blistering," Ben groused. "You would have me believe that it will get even hotter than this?"

"Mm, you'd better adjust quickly or maybe you'll melt entirely and I'll have to continue our mission on my own," she snarked.

"I'm not made of ice. I'll survive. I've survived in more austere environments."

"You've survived in one type of austere environment," Taliya corrected with a wolfish grin.

"And you're so much more experienced?"

"Actually, I am," she preened. "You've got a lot to learn, wolf-boy. I spent two years in the desert on deployment. Just a fair warning, fine sand gets everywhere. And given your fair complexion, you're going to want to cover your face."

"Wearing more clothing defeats the purpose doesn't it?"

"Unless you want an ungodly sunburn, which I have no doubt you'll get, then I'd cover up. A sunburn is worse than the extra bit of sweating you'll do. And, it's what you wear that matters. Thick wool like that will have you sweating like a pig, but silks and linen are much more breathable and will protect you from the sun. We'll see about getting you better attire before we leave Pentos," Taliya elaborated as they found a spot to pitch their tents and erect a small cookfire. The Dothraki paid them little heed, continuing with their festivities into the evening as they buckled in for the night.

"You're going to dress me up like a Dornish man?" Ben inquired smartly.

"If that's what you'd prefer, but I simply meant that we'll trade the wool for silks or linen. Call it whatever fashion you'd like."

"I'd prefer not to fall from my horse due to the heat, despite how queer I might look," Ben admitted as they both took a seat around a fire he had just lit. The evening had blown in a cool sea breeze, wiping away the worst of the day's heat as if it'd never been there.

"Do that you'll lose the respect of the Dothraki," Taliya reminded him. "I think they'll care less if you wear silks and more about you being weak."

"They certainly are... unique people," Ben admitted, utilizing the most polite manner he could to describe the barbaric displays they had witnessed earlier. "But there are things about them that remind me of the Wildlings."

"I think you'll see more differences the longer we spend amongst them. Now, let's work on your Dothraki, but it's still absolutely abysmal," Taliya grinned, watching as the bearded man frowned at the suggestion, and that the latter part of their evening wouldn't be spent relaxing, but instead practicing. Either way, she won this battle and they started going through the language once again. Ben would get better now that they were with the Dothraki and speaking their tongue would become necessary and more accessible than just muttering to one another in an effort to learn the basics.

*

The Dothraki Sea wasn't quite the desert, but it was just as sweltering and unforgiving. An expansive savannah with tall golden grass. The khalasar moved with a purpose, only the weak and the old confined to wagons where they could no longer sit a horse. Despite the plethora of things that they possessed, the horse people packed up and continued their nomadic lifestyle with ease. One would think it would be difficult to move beds, tubs, furniture without the amenities of the future, but the Dothraki had everything perfected to a fine, methodical manner.

Most often, they were riding beside Viserys and Jorah Mormont. The prince frequently wished to be right beside his sister, convinced that if he took his eyes off her for a moment that Khal Drogo would steal her away and not deliver on his promise of his khalasar. The fact that he distrusted the man so, bespoke of his ignorance of their customs. Khal Drogo had promised their alliance in exchange for Daenerys. He would hold true, despite the fact that Viserys saw the copper skinned nomads as mongrels and sub-human.

After getting past the harsh exterior and miasma of sexuality that exuded from the Dothraki on the first day, even Ben began to warm to them as he started to comprehend them better. There was a strong dichotomy between male and female life, on top of the position of slaves. Even if Taliya had been frightened of being attacked at first, she quickly came to realize that even if they did undress her with their eyes, they wouldn't lay a hand on her unless she welcomed it. She was a guest, woman or not, and not free to claim. This protection extended from Daenerys' status as Khaleesi and her connection to her brother. She did notice that the Dothraki men preferred not to speak to her directly, but supposed that was better than being afraid that she might be attacked.

Usually, if anything did need to be passed along to her, either a slave would deliver the news or they'd talk to Ben. This gave the Stark the opportunity to work on his Dothraki and understand their customs. His original trepidation lightened, conversation became lighter, and a few of the Dothraki men even asked him questions about his own customs and experiences. She knew once or twice (perhaps even more times than that) he'd been asked about their relationship, which always amused her as Ben tried to explain what it was they were, because to the Dothraki, a woman was not a warrior. She had a purpose and that was to birth children and raise them. Taliya was an anomaly, unlike any they'd seen before, and some even doubted she knew how to use the sword that she wore. Their confusion did not bother her, because as 'barbaric' as many claimed the Dothraki were, they'd been cordial until this point. A lot of that had to deal with her own understanding that she wasn't to participate in conversation without being asked a question first, which rarely happened.

That did not mean she did not have opportunities to talk. In fact, while Ben enjoyed learning about the Dothraki, she found herself having to listen to Viserys. Jorah also seemed to be growing as restless as she was when it came to tending the Targaryen prince, pretending that he cared when he had his eyes on the prize: Daenerys. Uncertain if their presence there would make Jorah act sooner on his assassination plans, she kept a sharpened eye on him, but thus far the knight had been a much more admirable companion than Viserys. Mormont women were known to pick up swords and thus, Jorah did not seem disdainful over her own choices in life and treated her as an equal. This actually sort of surprised her and while she made an effort not to let her guard down around him, it was nice to chat with someone else other than Ben on the road.

The Khaleesi took more time to warm to her, but eventually the girl's curiosity got the better of her and Taliya found herself riding beside her Silver on a fine afternoon while Drogo rode ahead with his bloodriders.

"Viserys told me that the Lord of Light sent you to him," Daenerys remarked as they canted forward.

"He did guide us in this direction," Taliya agreed cryptically. "He works in mysterious ways that we can't even begin to fathom. We only take our orders as we are given them."

"And how do you get them?" she continued, giving Taliya a sideways glance.

"Through the flames. We light a fire each night to keep away the darkness. Priests and priestesses sing to call the light back at dawn, but nor I or Ben are priest or priestess. Still, the Lord of Light gives us His messages in the flames, just as He gave us eyes that can interpret His will," Taliya answered as honestly as she could. Most of this was speculation, because the Lord of Light had never been exceptionally honest with either of them.

"I'd never heard of swords of the Lord of Light before my wedding," Daenerys commented.

"As have few others. We are well protected secret," she threw a tiny, but friendly smirk at the girl who seemed to be growing more confident with each passing day.

"Were you always a sword of the Lord of Light?"

"No, not until recently. I grew up in a family that owned a gardening shop actually. In Dorne, bastards are not scorned as they are in the rest of Westeros. But I still wanted to explore and do my own things. I loved seeing new places, exploring the wild... So I joined a sellsword company and I did travel. I spent six years going where the wind took me before returning home to take control of the family shop. My parents passed away in an accident and then the shop, which had been passed down for generations, burned to the ground. I found the Lord of Light shortly after that," Taliya told the tailored version of her history, meant to match up with her current setting more than that of earth.

"You were free to do as you pleased?"

"As are most common folk," Taliya pointed out.

"I envy that. Not having your fate decided for you, to do as you choose," Daenerys breathed loftily.

"Not every person has that opportunity, I was lucky that I had encouraging parents and enough coin to do as I pleased. Others are not as fortunate," Taliya admitted. "Be that they're too poor, uneducated, or just down on luck. I am gracious for everything I've been afforded."

"I've never wanted for much," Daenerys commented. "Material-wise," she corrected, her lips pulling up in a sad smile. "But I've never truly felt free. Viserys has always been looking out for me, making the decisions for us... Listen to me, I sound ungrateful, but here I am as Khaleesi-"

"A cage is still a cage, whether it is gilded in gold and garnets, Khaleesi," Taliya reminded her gently. "I think there are many noble and royal women who feel much the same. There are pros and cons to both origins. I suppose you just must decide which sound preferrable. Often, the grass seems greener on the other side, but I haven't a name to protect me, only my actions and sword. Additionally, in most places, I am still a woman and common born, a bastard at that. I am no one."

"I do not feel as if I am in a cage so much anymore," Daenerys admitted thoughtfully. "It was difficult at first... All of this. Even the riding hurt... but I do not feel that way now. Khal Drogo is... kinder than I thought. He truly cares for me. I do envy you though, you're free to do as you please."

"I am glad to hear that he treats you well," Taliya remarked evenly, aware that this would be the case, but it still felt good to hear it. Daenerys was so young and Khal Drogo dwarfed her like a mouse to an elephant. "But I am not truly free anymore. I serve the Lord of Light."

Daenerys pressed another smile and glanced back amongst the throng of Dothraki that rode in a file through the sea. They were rather far ahead, upon a ridge where the others were slowly beginning to catch up. The days in the saddle might've been difficult for Taliya had she not had the years of riding Balerion beneath her belt. She recalled the sores she had between her legs, the aching thighs from holding on so tight because she feared falling into the sky, but a horse was easy in comparison. She had already earned her calluses and the leathered area on her rump from where she'd grown accustomed to the relentless riding, especially bareback.

However, as both females gazed back toward the group, the pale head of Viserys was falling further and further behind. He was struggling to keep up and Taliya knew it was because he was not used to being pushed this hard. Had she been back on earth, she would've thought horseback riding was easy lest she spent this much time in a saddle. In the heat, beneath the open sun, it was relentless and a workout. The Dothraki grew up in the saddle. Ben had been horseback riding since he was a boy and as a ranger. Jorah had a similar experience in the saddle. Taliya's own experience, though limited by comparison, had been fast tracked by her griffin and riding in the air compared to the ground.

Viserys was used to being brought places or riding very short distances. Discomfort was a word he had not known in the recent years and his softness showed. Daenerys, a girl of 13, rode better than him and with less complaint. Originally, the girl had been a little battered and lethargic, undoubtedly earning her calluses and healing her own saddle sores. Now, she moved on her Silver with ease and displayed more comfort in being around her enormous husband. The shift in attitude wasn't instant, taking place over weeks in which Taliya had not been able to get closer to Daenerys. But now, the girl was comfortable enough with herself and her status to call upon Taliya.

Taliya suspected that it was inquisitiveness at first, the mystery surrounding the sword of the Lord of Light that had piqued the Khaleesi into requesting she ride beside her. Then, as Taliya noticed that the child preferred her company to that of men, she realized that she'd become a manifestation for Daenerys' attention because Taliya was all that the girl wished she could have been, romanticizing the idea that common life was free. She suspected it also dealt with the fact that Taliya was companionable with the Khaleesi, still discreet enough to address her by titles, but with each conversation the walls were lowering and she jested more often, poking fun at the girl as often and carefully that the girl might see her as not only a sworn sword, but a friend or maybe an older sibling that didn't put the fear of awakening the dragon in the girl's heart.

Each Westerosi had their own role. Jorah seemed to be the one who knew the most about the Seven Kingdoms and of her beloved, late brother Rhaegar. He filled her ears with what she wished to hear of her home, but was also honest about how the common folk wished for no war, bountiful harvests, and a summer that never ended.

Ben had earned the respect of the bloodriders, even sparring with a few of them to display his talent with a sword, while he honed his skill in their tongue. Daenerys took notice, often poking fun at Taliya for her partner's handsomeness and prowess. But the relationship that Daenerys had with Taliya did not extend to Ben. She was slightly more formal with him, but seemed to trust him as she trusted Taliya because of their mutual rankings as swords to R'hllor.

Even Khal Drogo started to tolerate Taliya more, his gaze no longer as scathing as he noted the manner in which Daenerys would spend afternoons riding beside her and not once had Taliya given him reason to worry that she was filling the girl's ears with redderict of her religion. Instead, she became another companion and also assisted Jhiqui in teaching Dany Dothraki.

"Is there a rule that you have to be celibate? I mean, you said you were not a priestess," Daenerys commented as they rode through the never ending sea.

"Lord up above, Khaleesi. I think I might drown in the amount of times you've asked me if I have interest in anyone," Taliya whistled, rolling her eyes emphatically. "I'm old and grouchy and there's other things on my mind."

"You are not that old," Daenerys retorted, running her eyes along her.

"How old do you think I am, Khaleesi?" Taliya chuckled.

"That's a dangerous game to play," Daenerys jested, but put a little thought into it. "Perhaps three and twenty, but no older than seven and twenty."

"Try about a decade more than your first guess," Taliya corrected lightly.

"I thought you were old enough to be my sister, not my mother," Daenerys snickered.

Taliya scoffed in mock offense. "I have never been more insulted in my life."

"You might run out of time to start a family at this rate," Daenerys continued impishly.

"Clearly, that's the first priority on my list," she smirked sarcastically. "A woman is not measured on her ability to wean children, but nor should she be scorned if that's the decision she wishes to make."

"I wish that were true, but you and I both know that a woman's ability to have children is most of her importance in this world," Daenerys sighed.

"And that's why I reject that reality and substitute my own. And why I'm ancient and live without a man."

"But you would really never consider Ben? Unless there are rules that you have not mentioned."

"Again, Khaleesi, it is not my priority. Ben and I have an amicable relationship, one that I would not wish to ruin by becoming romantically involved. I consider him a good friend and a trustworthy partner," Taliya insisted, but if truth be told, she did find the man attractive. It was natural to be drawn toward a person she felt comfortable around, especially since they could speak openly and honestly to one another. Still, she was under no guise that the man was task oriented and he had spent many years abhoring relationships with the opposite sex. They were partners, not lovers, and Taliya had done nothing to even encroach on blurring that line, as not to make him feel uncomfortable.

"But, if you ever wished to, you could," Daenerys pointed out. "Because you're free to love as you choose."

Taliya's face nearly betrayed her, the unspoken truth of how Ben was actually noble born and once their plans began to develop, he had substantial claim to House Stark, should Ned and his sons still perish. There would be no fooling herself as to how she'd be received, the scorn she'd meet by playing at the lover to a Stark who had much to inherit and little to gain by having interest in her--a nobody. Perhaps she had freedom, but that freedom did not include being with anyone of import. "I have many things to worry about, Khaleesi. I am not keen to add a man to that list."

"Hm, but you must know what you are missing," Daenerys quipped before kicking off on her Silver. "Stay behind with the others and have them wait for a moment. I'm going to ride ahead."

Taliya's jaw dropped at the girl's insinuation, choking back on a laugh at the little wildling thundered through the wastes and kicked up a cloud of red dust. Even if Daenerys told her to remain behind, she brought her gelding to a trot to cut the severe distance between her and the princess. While there was no one visible on the horizon, it didn't sit well to leave her on her own and she knew that her assigned bloodrider for the day also felt similar. She noticed Jhogo keeping close by as well, his dark eyes set forward to where Daenerys had stormed toward, a silver lance against the field of grass.

The day was nice, not as scathing as it could get, with a nice breeze making the tall grass dance. She suspected that Ben might even find it tolerable, having slowly adjusted to the heat of the Sea when compared to the frigid Wall that he was so accustomed to. A third pair of hooves joined the chorus with her and Jhogo, but when she turned back, she was thankful for the scarves wrapped around her head, as she'd bared a smile thinking that Ben had come to join her.

Instead, Viserys bobbed beside her, his narrowed gaze slipping from her and then to the bloodrider. "Where is my sister?" he asked tartly.

"She has ridden up ahead," Taliya informed him curtly, observing how he leaned in his saddle, not an anxious maneuver, but because he was in pain. Her eyes flitted up, poised toward Jhogo, who also had observed the gesture. "Please wait here, your grace, the Khaleesi is scouting ahead and requested that we wait-"

"My sister has ordered us to stay behind?" the young man's nostrils flared, his lilac eyes widening madly as he threw a haughty glare in her direction. "My sister, the whore to a smelly horselord, demands that I stay behind and wait?"

Taliya drew a gentle breath, controlling her own flaring anger as she tried to gauge Jhogo's reaction. He knew a few words in common as Ben had been speaking to him often, but even if he did not comprehend, he knew the tone of voice and the underlying fury in the blond's voice and that it was insulting. "Your grace, I doubt that the Khaleesi intended it to be a demand," she placated.

Viserys jerked the reins to his horse, erring uncomfortably close toward her, reaching over the horn of his saddle and yanking on one of her many scarves. "I do not need you interpreting my sister's commands, you Dornish cunt," he snarled, spurring his horse off after he'd tugged on one of her headscarves so hard that her head jerked down.

The veil of the silk fell into her face and she cursed beneath her breath, trying to fix her field of view. She had a bit of whiplash from his action, rubbing her neck as her tongue snapped behind her teeth and she snarled. For as fast as Viserys could ride in pain, she could ride faster. He had a head start, but she was vehement, beside herself with wrath that he'd touched her while she'd done nothing but tried to soothe his building vexation.

He arrived before her, Daenerys shoving him away as he spat like a serpent. For all his hissing, he was little more than a snake making futile attempts to breathe fire and not even managing a puff of smoke. His eyes widened at his sister's indignance, her rising confidence to react to his abuse, and as he raised a hand again, Taliya swept down from her saddle and smashed her forearm beneath the prince's jaw, sending him spiralling back a few paces, though he caught himself before he could fall. Her hand flew to the hilt of her sword, threatening to bare the steel if he countered.

"You whore! Do you know what you've done? You serve me. You swore fealty to me! I'll have you killed for this," Viserys snarled, his fair features blazing with crimson as if his skin had been set aflame.

"I recall asking to serve you, but I swore no oaths of fealty. I am no noble, nor am I a knight. However, you have laid hands on an unarmed woman, the Khaleesi at that, and my actions hurt much less than the misery you might've experienced had Jhogo intercepted you instead," Taliya countered vehemently. "Consider it a kindness I've done to you, because Khal Drogo does not care if you are the Khaleesi's brother, especially if you intend to harm her."

"You impudent-" Viserys fumbled, clumsily ripping his sword from the scabbard to point the steel toward her. "I am not just the Khaleesi's brother. I am a king! And a king does as he pleases! I will not be ordered around by the horselord whore or a sand bastard."

"Khaleesi, stay behind me," Taliya warned, brushing her hand back to urge the girl further from the fight.

But her sword never left its scabbard, a hissing snap echoed through the air and Viserys' blade went flying, thumping into the sand as Jhogo's whip coiled around the Targaryen's throat. He fell to the ground, choking on spit as Jhogo glared down at him from upon his steed. "Tat zalat mae driv che thash ha fin mae et nakhaan, Khaleesi?"

"What is he asking?" Daenerys stepped aside to gaze up at Jhogo.

"He is asking whether you wish for your brother to die for his impudence or if you'd prefer he injure him," Taliya translated, feeling no sympathy as the prince recoiled on the ground, his face changing from red to blue and then purple. She hoped a few brain cells died from the lack of oxygen.

"No, tell him to take Viserys' horse and make him walk," Daenerys decided after a moment of contemplation.

A much kinder fate than Taliya would have spared him, but she obeyed the girl's wishes, aware that this was an emasculating punishment. To walk was to be slow, weak, and lesser than most of the khalasar. Even outsiders rode horseback, but slaves did not. Death would be too kind, but this would make Viserys the subject of ridicule, which he was already honing such a niche. Without a horse, his fate would be sealed.

Answering Jhogo, the bloodrider nodded, loosening the whip so that Viserys could suck air in greedily.

Ben and Jorah had joined them on the rise, uncertain of what had just happened, but having heard Daenerys’ decision. Viserys scrabbled on the ground, wild eyes turning toward Jorah and then her partner. "K-kill her! Kill the sand bitch and the Dothraki too. I am a king and I will not stand being disintegrated like this-"

Neither man made a move toward their swords, eying Taliya before settling on Daenerys questioningly. Even if they'd considered obeying, what would that get them? They would be surrounded by enemies.

"Khaleesi?" Jorah entreated to the astonishment of Viserys. "He should walk."

Jhogo corralled Viserys away who spat venomously, leaving his sword behind as he was forced away. It would seem the threat of more pain was a good enough ward against his intention to do it again.

Her blood was still pounding, her ears thundering with the noise as she realized Daenerys could turn on her for lifting a hand against her brother. Lord, that had been a foolish mistake, but her fury had ignited as if the R'hllor Himself was in her. Even if she was just a girl, she had the power of her husband's 40,000 riders behind her. Swallowing hard, Taliya turned to look at her.

Daenerys was barefoot and contemplative, turning away to return to where she'd been gazing over the crest and down below at the expansive horizon. Her fingers left her hilt and she approached tentatively.

"I'm surprised I fought back," Daenerys muttered, making no mention of what Taliya had done just yet.

"He had no right to put hands on you. Not now, nor before," Taliya replied crisply.

Daenerys scoffed lightly. "I am not an amazing warrior like you, Tali. I have never had the opportunity to defend myself until this point," she sighed, shaking her head, tendrils of starlight blowing in the gentle wind. "Why did you defend me? You pledged your sword to my brother."

She stiffened and considered her answer. "I could not stand by and let him hurt you. To tell the truth, Khaleesi, my partner and I came here in search of Azor Ahai. We thought it might be your brother, but with the passing weeks, I doubt that and am beginning to believe our prince that was promised is a princess," this was not the entire truth, but the one that her and Ben agreed to cite when they changed allegiances. "And as I told him, I never took an oath, I simply asked to work in his service. However, I would take an oath for someone I believed in."

Daenerys flitted intelligent eyes up toward her, the corner of her mouth quirking, but not flipping up. "Remind me to keep account on any promises you make, it seems you're clever in finding loopholes," the girl mused. "Do you think I woke the dragon in Viserys?"

"The dragon?" she snorted, not hiding her indignance. "Cariña, he is a tiny, hissing snake without an ounce of venom." (Darling)

"But he is the rightful king. You understand this even if you are not of noble birth," Daenerys countered.

"Tell me, would you like to see him as king? Can you see him as king?"

"It does not matter what I think. The common people have been praying for his return, to be free of the Usurper," the girl raved, unconvinced, but repeating the words she'd been told so many times before like a parrot.

"With some experience as a commoner myself, I can tell you that they do no care who sits upon the throne so long as they are safe, healthy, and not caught between the wars of nobles. Peasants are often the ones forgotten and amongst the innumerable casualties when blue bloods wage battles with each other. They are not waiting for Viserys," Taliya assured her.

A blanket of silence threatened to smother them and she wondered if she had overstepped her boundaries again. Finally, "I always knew Viserys would never succeed in taking the Seven Kingdoms. I have always known deep in my heart, for a very long time. He could not lead an army, even if my husband gave him one," Daenerys declared insightfully. "Tell me, Tali, would an oath still stop you from betraying someone?"

"An oath is an oath, Khaleesi. I would not make one lightly," or make one at all if that pigeonholed her into one path and on path only. However, surrounded by the Dothraki, she was beginning to wonder if she'd ever had the choice, especially after what she'd done that day.