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TWL Chapter - 68
🕑 Added 2025-02-07 00:49:25 +0000 UTCDaenerys sat stiffly atop the wooden platform, acutely aware of every breath, every slight movement she made. Her new husband, the imposing Khal Drogo, had his attention focused on something in the distance while he barked commands to his bloodriders in their harsh tongue.
Just below them, she could hear her brother's increasingly agitated voice as he spoke with Illyrio. Though they tried to keep their voices low, Viserys' frustration carried clearly to her ears.
"When?" he demanded, the dragon embroidered on his new black tunic seeming to writhe with his agitation.
Illyrio's hand waved lazily through the air. "When the Khal chooses. When the omens favor war."
"I piss on these Dothraki omens," Viserys spat. "I've waited fifteen years to get my throne back."
Dany risked a glance at her new husband, studying his impassive face. His dark eyes were fixed on something below, his expression unreadable. Following his gaze, she saw what had captured his attention - Dothraki women dancing to the rhythm of drums.
Before she could process what was happening, a warrior strode into the circle, grabbed one of the dancers, and took her right there on the ground.
The crowd's cheers made her stomach turn, but worse was the approving grin that spread across Khal Drogo's face. More warriors joined in, each claiming a dancer for themselves, until inevitably, two men reached for the same woman.
Steel flashed in the sunlight as they drew their curved blades. Dany wanted to look away but found herself transfixed by the deadly grace of their movements. The fight ended in a brutal fashion: one missed block, one decisive strike, and suddenly a man's insides were painting the dust red.
The victor didn't even take the woman they'd fought over. He simply grabbed another dancer as the crowd roared their approval, and Dany felt bile rise in her throat. This was to be her life now?
She barely registered Illyrio's polite applause as he leaned toward her brother. "A Dothraki wedding without at least three deaths is considered a dull affair."
The words echoed in her head as she struggled to maintain her composure.
She was scared. This was no wedding. It was just an excuse to kill and fuck like animals.
She had stopped praying. She had prayed every day leading up to this, to any god listening to her, pleading that she would not have to marry the barbarian her brother had sold her to in exchange for an army.
<BGM: Like a Prayer (Choir Version)>
She was all alone. No one here was going to help her.
Just as despair threatened to overwhelm her, she felt something... shift.
Like a gentle breeze washing over the gathering, people began swaying on their feet. One by one, they slumped forward.
Even Khal Drogo, the fearsome warrior who was to be her husband, fought against the invisible wave for a moment before succumbing. His massive frame hit the ground with a dull thud that seemed to echo in the sudden silence.
That was the last thing she saw as she too succumbed to whatever that was.
She jolted awake with a gasp, her heart hammering against her ribs.
‘Had that been a dream?’
For a moment, she began to hope that the entire wedding was just a dream, but reality was not that kind.
The evidence lay scattered around her. Bodies sprawled across the courtyard, peaceful in their unexpected slumber, exactly as she remembered.
Her eyes darted from face to face, searching for any sign of movement. The entire wedding party lay still, their chests rising and falling in the steady rhythm of deep sleep. The silence felt oppressive.
Movement caught her eye - a figure moving purposefully among the wedding gifts, examining each with casual interest. Fear warred with curiosity in her chest as the stranger paused, seeming to sense her gaze.
"Oh good, you're awake!" he said cheerfully, as if they were meeting for afternoon tea rather than in the midst of … whatever this was. "I thought you would take longer."
"Who..." The question died in her throat as she struggled to process the surreal scene before her.
"Oh, you can call me El. It's cool, though; you don't have to introduce yourself. You're quite famous where I'm from."
For a moment, she felt disbelief. What was happening?
Recognition flickered in her mind - whispered stories from her handmaids about a white-robed healer who worked miracles in the North. The White Mage of Winterfell. She'd dismissed them as mere tales, but now…
She didn't know what to say. Why was he here?
Before she could form a coherent thought, he spoke again: "I'm really sorry about this, but I kind of have to kidnap you for a bit."
The silence was deafening. Even the sleeping bodies seemed to radiate awkward silence.
"That came out wrong," he added quickly, running a hand through his hair.
"Why?" she managed, finding her voice at last. It came out steadier than she felt.
"...Huh, great question." He looked genuinely thoughtful, as if he hadn't quite expected such direct inquiry. Then his expression shifted, becoming more serious. "I can see the future, and I really don't like the suffering and death it gives you, so I'm going to give you a better future, in exchange for a favor a few years down the line. After that you can do whatever you want..." He paused.
“No genocide though”
“What?" Daenerys stared at him, her mind struggling to process everything that was happening.
"Which part of that do you need a clearer explanation on?"
"Why would you think I would commit genocide?" She felt oddly offended by the implication.
"You Targaryens are a fickle bunch." He said it so matter-of-factly.
She opened her mouth to protest, but El just raised an eyebrow and glanced pointedly at her brother's unconscious form.
Her protest died in her throat.
"Ok," she said quietly.
"Ok what?"
"Take me away?"
"...Just like that?" Now it was his turn to look confused, as if his carefully planned kidnapping had gone too smoothly.
"Why would I say no?" The words came out a lot bitter than she had expected. ”Why would I say no when all I have been doing for the past few days was begging any god listening that someone would take me away from here”
"Fair enough I guess, I was about to bribe you with these, in case you had second thoughts" he said, holding up her wedding gifts - the dragon eggs she'd barely had time to examine. They caught the light strangely, their scaled surfaces seeming to ripple with hidden life.
"Those were mine anyway," she pointed out, feeling strangely bold.
He grinned at that. "Ah, but I was about to tell you how to hatch them."
She froze at that. "How...?"
"Eh, it's quite easy. I'll tell you when it's time." He waved off the question with casual confidence.
"How long?"
"A moon, maybe two."
"And you were doing this for a favor and a condition of no genocide?" The words felt ridiculous leaving her mouth.
"Well, with dragons you can never be sure, and they are going to be part of the favor."
She paused, the implications suddenly hitting her. Dragons. Real, living dragons. The thought itself was so absurd she almost laughed.
"Why?"
"I'm a nice guy and I recognize when I need to delegate." He shrugged as if discussing the weather rather than resurrecting extinct creatures.
"Very well. Where will you be taking me?"
"Winterfell."
Fear gripped her heart. "I do not believe that..."
"Oh, you don't need to worry about that. I can easily make you look non-Targaryen enough, then I could change you back as well if it's safe enough and you can take care of yourself."
She quietly nodded at that, not knowing what to say.
Instead she stared at the sleeping figures scattered across the courtyard. "What did you do to them?"
"They're asleep” El replied, hands casually tucked in his pockets. "They'll wake in a few hours. As much as I'd love to do more permanent damage to certain individuals..." His eyes flickered briefly to her brother and the magister. "Best not to advertise who's responsible for your disappearance."
"I understand." Daenerys straightened her shoulders. "When do we leave? I have no desire to linger here."
El gave her an odd look. "You know, you're being remarkably calm about all this. It's actually throwing off my whole rescue speech."
"Would you prefer I protest?" A ghost of a smile touched her lips. "Beg to stay and marry this barbarian warlord instead?"
"Point taken." He sighed, gesturing toward the darker side of the city. "Let's walk. I've got transportation arranged, but we need some distance first."
As they walked away, Daenerys allowed herself one final glance at Viserys's unconscious form. Years of fear and abuse crystallized in that moment, making her next question inevitable.
"What happens to him?"
"Hmm?"
"In the future you saw. What becomes of my brother?"
“In the future I saw, your brother... well, he gets exactly what he's been asking for."
"What do you mean?"
"He gets his crown." El's voice was oddly gentle. "Just not the way he imagined. Your soon-to-be-ex-husband pours molten gold over his head."
Daenerys stopped walking, her blood running cold. The worst part wasn't the horror of the image - it was how easily she could picture it happening. How fitting it seemed.
"I..." she started, then stopped, unsure what she even wanted to say.
"Yeah," El nodded, understanding in his eyes. "Though you have to admit, your brother has this unique talent for making people want to kill him in creative ways."
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That entire interaction was a trainwreck from the start. I mean, who the fuck starts a conversation with "Hey, I'm here to kidnap you"?
In my defense though, she was far more beautiful than I'd expected. I mean, what the fuck was going on with that? Like, Jesus.
"This is probably far enough," I said, trying to reclaim some semblance of professionalism. "This is going to take a few minutes."
She said nothing, just watched me with that intent gaze. I forced my attention to the task at hand, though my usual focus kept slipping every time she moved.
The swarm moved invisibly through the air, following my mental blueprint to inscribe the required runes. It was a lot simpler than the one from my home base, as it was just a beacon to help the main array, which did most of the heavy lifting.
The runes took shape beneath our feet, each line precisely placed by my army of invisible assistants. The magic flowed smooth and steady, like a well-rehearsed dance.
At least my powers weren't as socially awkward as me. Small mercies, I supposed.
-----------------
Daenerys watched in fascination as El seemed to deliberately avoid looking at her, his attention fixed on some invisible task. Then she saw it - threads of crimson appearing on the ground as if painted by phantom hands, forming intricate patterns that made her eyes hurt from their complexity.
The symbols spiraled outward, creating an elaborate pattern of blood and magic that somehow felt both ancient and new. Each line connected with perfect precision, building something that tugged at the edges of her understanding.
She opened her mouth to ask what was happening, but the symbols glowed an otherworldly shade of red that forced her to shield her eyes then she felt the world... shift.
The open air of Pentos vanished between one heartbeat and the next, replaced by cool stone walls and dancing shadows. They stood in what appeared to be some sort of underground chamber, though any windows or traditional features had been replaced by strange glowing crystals that cast an ethereal blue light.
The sudden transition left her momentarily dizzy, her mind struggling to understand.
The air here felt different - heavier somehow, charged with an energy that made her skin tingle. The room itself seemed alive, covered in pulsing runes that mimicked the pattern she had seen a few moments ago.
She steadied herself.
"Welcome to my humble workshop," El announced, finally looking at her again. "Sorry about the decor - I haven't really had time to make it more guest-friendly."
Comments
Callum Runchman
When infront of a goddess like woman, who's basically as pure, kind and innocent as can be I think most men would get a bit toung tied
Die-long
What will happen to Missandei & the rest of the slaves Dany would have freed?
Big ToFu
I don’t get where his social awkwardness came from.
