Trigger warning: this chapter contains description of rape. If that triggers you proceed carefully. If you want to avoid it you may not read the last part of the chapter.

Neitheri asoiaf not got belong to me, this is just for fun.

Under the Stars

After buying Rhaenys Khal Drogo he left the city to go in search of the rest of his khalasar. He had left all but his most trusted warriors in the great grasslands nearby. They returned a few days later, she and Dany saw him from the top of a tower, they were as scared as fascinated; the forty thousand warriors, women, children and slaves. They arrived wrapped in a cloud of dirt and dust, preceded by the thunderous sound of their horses' hooves.

His presence there did not please the population of the city. They doubled the guard, as if that could have stopped the Dothraki as if that had stopped them of take Pentos in they had wanted. Nothing, Rhaenys thought upon seeing them, could have stopped them if they had wanted to take the city

Jorah Mormont had sworn allegiance to her uncle, him in return had promised to return his land to him when they returned to the Seven Kingdoms. The knight seemed to believe in him as little as she did so he wondered what his reasons were to join a king without a crown and no army. But, whatever their reasons, he had already proved useful, at least for Rhaenys. He had traveled tirelessly through the Free Cities and his information seemed accurate and reliable. She preferred to take her questions about the Dothraki to him than to magister Illyrio.

When the wedding had to be delayed because of her moonblood Viserys began to get impatient although she thought it was a small and welcomed postponement for her execution.
The magister tried to convince him that it was necessary. It was essential for the Dothrakis that the marriage be consummated and they could not do it if she bled, he did not want to understand it and she preferred not to think about the wedding night whenever possible.

After the wedding the Khal would take her to the sacred city of the Dothraki to present her to the widows of other Khals and the idea of having to wait even longer made her uncle squirm.

Every day that passed he was more irascible, insulting his allies without worrying about it, demanding his army despite the warnings of Sir Jorah and Illyrio. The Dothrakis did things their own way, when and how they wanted; Khal Drogo would pay his debt, but only when he considered it appropriate to do so.

She preferred to avoid his company whenever possible. His presence was scarier than it had been in a long time, since they had reached Pentos and magister's influence had temporarily tempered his character. Now he was always on the verge of another screaming attack. She was hiding in the mansion's library or in the gardens with Dany, places he didn't frequent.

Fear continued to grow within her, but it forced herself to hideit, she could not show weakness.

The last night, her last night as a single woman, was spent with Dany. Embraced tightly even during sleep, despite her best attempts the girl had not endured awake all she wanted. Rhaenys, however, could barely rest. When she finally fell asleep it was only to dream of the golden knight.

They ran down a narrow, dark corridor, he held her wrist with one hand and in the other an unsheathed sword. Under her bare feet the ground was damp and slippery but the knight did not loosen the step a bit and she forced herself to hurry more to stay with him. The corridor went on and on endlessly, so long that it didn't end as much as it ran, and in it there were screams, terrifying screams of women accompanied by a distant crying chorus. The screams were coming and she didn't want to turn and look, she knew she wouldn't like what she saw. The darkness closed more and more around, blinding them. They ran and ran until the passage ended, a stone wall cutting their way. Rhaenys searched frantically, but there was no other way out, they were trapped, the monsters were getting closer and closer. The knight stepped forward, putting himself in front of her sword in hand, ready to face danger.

She woke up with rapid breathing as if she had really been running. It was still night, but weddings began with dawn and ended until sunset.

The slaves were in the room, ready to start preparing all.

Pecked of the food trays that were brought to her while she was bathing. Fresh fruit, cut into pieces, cooked and cold eggs sprinkled with pepper, almond cakes and mint tea. Daenerys woke up just as they brought her milk and porridge sweetened with honey and sprinkled with brown sugar and did not hesitate to devour them as if she had been starving for a week. Rhae had to force herself to swallow the food, each bite choked before going down. She only did it because did not know that they would serve during the wedding and did not want to end up fainting from hunger, that would enrage her uncle.

They combed her hair, pulling it away from her face with braids that were then hold with gold pins. Then they put on her dress, a very pale violet, almost white. It was silk, so thin that she feel naked. The only jewels with which they adorned her were two silver bracelets carved with runes that she did not know. They were not Valyrians, perhaps Dothraki.

Daenerys also wore a new light blue dress, more demure than hers, adorned with her dragon brooches. She also wore a pearl ring that had belonged to her mother, Queen Rhaella. It was one of the few things they still had from her. Rhaenys envied her, wished she had something to remember her own mother.

"You're beautiful, Dany," she said, and the girl turned a couple of times so she could see the dress well. Skirts fluttered around her and her smile grew. It seemed beautiful that she could find happiness in such a simple act.

When the first lights of dawn began to emerge on the horizon they guided her to the entrance of the mansion, where Viserys and Illyrio were already waiting for them next to the litter

"It was time! Let's go!" ordered her uncle, turning to the litter.

"You're beautiful, princess," the merchant entertained her. "I must remind you of the importance of rejecting the ceremonial gifts of the bloodriders of the Khal. It is vital that you do it correctly."

He had spent many hours explaining with great care how the wedding ceremony would take place, all seasoned with jugs of wine and sweets, but that was not a surprise, it was never long before the master had any of those things in his hand. There was that she was likely to see a lot of blood and sex throughout the evening. The Dothraki had a relaxed concept of modesty and intimacy, which meant they had none.

The most important part of that learning had been the proper way to refuse the gifts of her future husband's bloodriders so as not to offend his people. She had spent a lot of time in front of the mirror, practicing the words in the Dothraki language over and over until the pronunciation was perfect, or almost perfect, everything she could achieve.

The wedding was held in a camp on the outskirts of the city as all the important events in the life of a Dothraki man were to pass outdoors, with the sun and the moon as witnesses. For the occasion, large constructions of woven grass had been erected and carpets and low tables were placed for the guests. In addition to the people of the Khalasar, illustrious citizens of Pentos and other cities had arrived, wishing to seize the opportunity to devote themselves to the Khal.

Presiding over the celebration was a large platform of stepped earth and wood that was staggered, and at the top of the improvised pyramid was Khal Drogo.

She already knew that a ceremony would not be held as such, neither votes nor shared promises as they did in Westeros. They would celebrate the party to announce the union and at night they would consummate it and be considered husband and wife in the eyes of the Dothraki.

The festivities had already begun when they arrived, escorted for Sir Jorah and the magister Illyrio. In the very center, entertaining the guests who drank copiously, was a group of women who danced sparsely dressed, using orange and yellow veils as the light of dawn.

Everything stopped when she descended from the litter. The dancers moved discreetly and the conversations quieted down even though she saw people whisper. Everyone looked at her.

He joined the Khal at the top of the platform, he had stood up to receive her and did not take a seat in his chair until she took her place in the chair beside her. Her uncles and companions were accommodated on the step immediately below theirs, at the level of the bloodriders of the Khal, which was an immense honor despite the grimace of Viserys.

A maid brought her a bronze cup full to the edge with a thick white liquid with an acid smell. Fermented mare's milk, although she did not realize until she had taken the first sip; was forced to swallow it anyway. It had lumps and almost choked. The party started again.

The food began to arrive in large quantities, offered first to the couple and then to those who sat under them, which bothered Viserys even more. Roasted pork and horse meat, heavily spiced, blood sausages and black pudding cake first; Dothraki dishes. Then Pentos recipes, roast duck with candied oranges, chicken with vegetables, honey-covered fruits and dough snacks stuffed with dates and pine nuts.

She watched as Dany gladly devoured every candy that lay ahead, enjoying all of them without worrying about her fingers smeared with syrup or how her brother macerated his disgust with the wine that Illyrio had commanded to take. She forced herself to take small bites of meat sips from the fermented milk so as not to seem ungrateful, although each one seemed like a handful of sand coming down her throat.

She felt that Daenerys, whom Illyrio entertained with pleasure with all kinds of stories and explanations, was having a good time. The master had also asked to bring the girl a cold mint drink without alcohol. Usually Rhaenys just let her have a glass of wine and only if the occasion required it. Presumably, her wedding would count as an occasion special enough but Daenerys herself did not enjoy the bitterness of the wine too much.

She desperately wanted to be by her side. Down there, she could talk to her and listen to Illyrio's stories, at the top of the pyramid she felt very lonely, and was bored. The Khal was shouting with his riders, sharing laughter and pointing at the dancers. From time to time he threw a coin to the ground and the women fought over it, tearing off the few clothes they were wearing. He had not looked at her since her arrival. However, even if he had expressed the slightest interest in her, they would have had no way of communicating. She wonder if that would be their whole marriage. Somehow she wasn't sure if the perspective repelled or comforted her.

Soon, to her horror and shame, some men began to take women in plain sight, bending them over their hands and knees and riding them like the horses they loved so much.

A step below her Daenerys tried to ignore the vulgar spectacle, not knowing exactly where to look.

The first man died before noon. Two men fought for one woman, the curved arakhs that they wore at the waist were unsheathed and began to move in a circle, measuring the forces of their opponent. One of them, who looked younger and wore the shortest braid, launched the first lunge; his rival easily deflected and counterattacked. He struck an upward blow and his weapon sank into the other man's flesh just above the hip, easily cracking it. His guts scattered and he fell to the ground, still alive. It didn't last long. Daenerys shrieked when she saw him fall, but no one paid attention; people cheered and laughed. The slaves took the body, leaving a disgusting blood stain behind.

She watched the disgusting spectacle, without being able to take her eyes off the violent vision. Dany struggled to hold back her tears, Viserys seemed divided, disgusted and fascinated.

A Dothraki wedding in which at least three people did not die was considered boring. Twelve died in Rhaenys'.

When the sun began to descend the music and the conversations stopped. A strange climate spread among the guests, the party was gone; It was time for gifts.

She stood by the Khal as his blood riders advanced. Haggo offered her a leather whip, Cohollo an arakh and Qotho a long bow. She declined the three offerings with the words she had been taught, feeling awkward and stupid despite all the practice.

"It is a gift worthy of a great warrior, oh blood of my blood, and I am a simple woman. May my husband receive them in my place"

Drogo received the gifts pleased.

Viserys and Daenerys arrived later. She was given three slaves, one was older than her and clearly not a dothraki, her skin was too pale, probably Illyrio had bought it for her; the other were dothraki, one was smaller and thinner, surely younger, the other, with more prominent curves, had very curly hair. Ser Jorah presented to her a box full of old books and scrolls written in common language.

"From your homeland, Khaleesi," said the knight. "They are not much, but an exile can not afford more."

"They are more than enough," she said with a smile, stroking the leather loins. The man bowed his head respectfully.

Illyrio's servants placed a large carved chest on the platform. Inside, on a soft bed, there were three large eggs covered with scales. Rhaenys bent down to catch one, black and red. It weighed and was soft to the touch, releasing sparkles in the light of the setting sun.

"Dragon eggs," said the magister." I thought it was a nice detail. They are petrified, of course, but still beautiful."

"You're right, it's a beautiful gift. I will treasure them."

She put the egg back in the chest, between green and bronze and white and gold. Viserys looked at them with envy. He must think that a gift like that was only worthy of a true dragon and that she didn't deserve it.

The gifts kept coming from the rest of the khalasar and many others who had sent treasures to ingratiate themselves with the great Khal Drogo. Dozens of rolls of fine fabrics, soft skins of various animals, bronze and gold medallion belts, jewelry, boxes full of perfume bottles and oils that piled in piles around them. Also a chest full of snakes that its bearer proudly taught, a headdress of colored feathers and a long and curved bronze horn.

The last gift was that of the Khal, who brought her to the center of the field before the expectant gaze of all present. It was a thin and lovely mare, immaculate white; someone had bothered to braid their mane. She extended a hand, leaning it against the animal's nose, which allowed itself to be caressed meekly.

"A khaleesi must have a mount worthy of her rank" explained Illyrio.

The Khal held her by the waist, lifting her over the chair. She let herself be done, holding on and putting her feet in shoes with sandals inside the stirrups.

"What do I do now?" she asked nervously.

"You must ride. You don't need to go too far" Sir Jorah instructed her.

She had ridden in small ponies in her house, in the Red Keep, under the watchful eye of babysitters and guards, and then again when was older in some of their refuge, but much time had happened since then.

She grabbed the reins and the mare got underway, step first and then jog. She guided her by making a wide circle around the Khal. The Dothraki encouraged her, stepping out of her way, commenting while some children kept running after the horse. Their spirits emboldened her. She spurred the mare, which began to gallop. The shrieks of joy grew louder, some cheered. Overwhelmed by her immense new husband was Dany, jumping on the toes of her feet and giving shrieks every time she accelerated the horse or turned it sharply.

She rode for a few minutes, without hearing the noise that surrounded her, without noticing the people watching her. For a few moments it was just her and the horse, running, flying, far away. After a some moments of showing off, turning around unnecessarily, she stopped her mount and returned to the Khal. For the first time he looked at her with something like satisfaction.

"Can you thank him?" she asked Ser Jorah, panting.

"I'm sorry, the Dothraki don't have a word for thanks," he replied.

That seemed the least practical, although she did not disagree with what had learned about the folk.

"Then can you tell him that it is a beautiful gift?"

The man translated her words. A tiny smile appeared on the Khal's lips, it did seem a little less scary; It wasn't much, but it gave her hope. He shouted something and brought his horse, a dark and immense stallion.

While the khal was riding Viserys approached her and grabbed her by the calf with all his strength, he would bruise her.

"Do it right," he warned, "or you'll see the dragon wake up."

She was about to kick him away, but if she did it he would only get angry and pay with Dany.
She tore her leg from his grip and followed the Khal, trotting behind him across the vast plain as the moon began to rise. They left the people far behind, riding until the fires and noises disappeared and they were only two alone in the company of the stars that began to emerge in the sky.

Rhaenys felt like vomiting and was grateful to have a half-empty stomach. She knew what would happen that night, what had to happen for the transaction to be completed, Viserys had explained it in great detail and also Illyrio's slaves. But she remembered better the talk he had had with the owner of the inn where they had stayed the first time she had her moonblood, that woman was the only one who had given her words that sounded true, but even that did not get make her less afraid. Rhaenys remembered her with love.
She was from Volantis and had a large burn scar on one cheek, she had smiled at her with tenderness and helped her without hesitation.

She had a lump in her throat and didn't think she could speak even if wanted to, luckily the Khal didn't want to talk; It wasn't that they could understand each other if they did.

They rode for a long time until they reached a small stream in a meadow. He dismounted and began preparing a bed while his horse drank in the river.

She sat on the chair a few more moments watching the Khal put blankets and skins on the grassy ground, but every moment she spent looking at that bed made her feel worse.

She slipped from the mare, falling to the ground with a thud. Her legs were weak and seized and she could not straighten again. A pair of strong hands grabbed her by the waist and lifted her on ruffles as if she weighed nothing. The Khal handled it easily but also with surprising delicacy but it didn't make her feel better, it just made her feel more vulnerable.

He placed her carefully on the soft blankets and she began to tremble violently. She didn't want to be there, she wanted to go home with Dany,she he wanted to go home but she didn't have a home. They had taken away Dragonstone, the island on which she was born but from which remembered nothing, and also the Red Keep that her ancestors had built. The house of Braavos had not lasted long either, although it had more memories of its old cobblestone yard and its walls covered with ivy than of the west palaces, and the Pentos mansion had only been a temporary refuge, like many others before. The Khal would not give her a home either, the Dothraki had no houses, they did not stay in the sites, they went from one place to another making war, looting and fighting.

She wanted to cry. She almost did it, hre eyes were full of tears and her body trembled, waiting to explode, but she couldn't allow it. She would not cry, she must be strong, she must do her duty.

"I'm not going to cry" she said in a very low voice, just a whisper pronounced at night that no one else would listen.

The sooner everything finished better, she said to herself, starting to slide the straps to take off her dress.

"No" the Khal stopped her hands. She froze. He pushed her hands away slowly, surprised that he had spoken to her in the common language.

"Do you speak my language?" she asked.

"Do not."

"Is that the only word you know?" she asked mockingly again.

"No" he repeated.

"I guess you mean yes."

Although he didn't understand her, seemed pleased that she talked to him. Without losing sight of her, he passed the long braid over his shoulder and began to take off the bells, carefully stepping aside. When he finished, the braid was undone, combing his long dark hair with his fingers. She waited until it was over and only then did he turn his attention to her and began undressing her. The silk fell from her arms and piled around her waist, her breasts were exposed. The nipples hardened from the cold air, she blushed to her ears and wanted to cover herself, but forced not to.
He held her face in his hands, making her look at him. They stayed that way for a moment until he joined his lips with hers. She could feel his contained strength, but he was delicate with her, as he had been every time he had touched her.

She stood up and the dress fell definitively, leaving her naked before the man's hungry eyes. He began to touch her, leaving a trail of goosebumps where his rough fingers passed. From the shoulders he went to the full breasts, gently pinching the dark nipples, making her feel strange. She felt the moisture between her legs and although knew it was good, it made her feel ashamed. He kept going down, counting the ribs with his fingers as he kissed her jaw and neck.

She gasped when he made her lie on the blankets. He stroked her hips and thighs and then between her legs, burying her fingers in her moisture. She tried not to squirm because of the discomfort. He smiled, gave her another passionate kiss and turned her around, placing her on his hands and knees.

The Dothraki took their women like that, as the horses rode the mares. She had seen it during the celebrations and Illyrio had warned her. She hated it and at the same time he felt grateful, so the Khal could not see how he bit his lip and struggled not to cry.

He stood behind her, his presence a scorching heat against her back. She felt small, very small. A single lonely tear fell to the ground when he entered her and she felt stupid and weak, it had taken so little to break her promise. The pain gripped her, it was too much, too big and too sudden; she wasn't ready. It burned and felt unnaturally stretched. He waited a moment for her to get used to the intrusion but it didn't help. He started pumping inside her, growling like a bear, hands clinging to her hips.

He accelerated the pace of his attacks, chasing his own pleasure without pause. Her arms failed and she was about to face herself on the ground. The tears kept falling.

One more blow and a loud growl and the Khal seed spilled into her gut. It was already, comforted herself, it was over. He pulled away from her, rolling on his back. She took a quick look, he was lying with one arm behind his head, the other hand resting on the stomach; he seemed satiated.

She waited, in case he told her something or turned to her, but didn't move. Very slowly she lay on one side, turning her back on her new husband. She felt cold and exhausted. She wanted someone to hug her and comfort her, but it didn't seem like Khal Drogo was going to do that soon so she snuggled over herself and waited for the dream to claim her.

Notes: It has been a while but here is the second chapter. It also has my first sexual description so I hope it hasn't been bad.
Extra detail, the innkeeper who helped Rhaenys after her first menstruation was a slave escaped from Volantis and the burn on her cheek a self-inflicted wound to get rid of a tattoo.
In the next chapter we will see the first days of Rhaenys and Dany among the Dothraki.
I also wish you could suggest names for dragons.

Thanks to all who have read and apologize for any orthographic or grammatical error, there are probably many, English is not my first language and it cost me a bit. Any comments or constructive criticism will be very welcome.
If you want to ask questions, suggestions or comments you can also find me on my Tumblr adelasufer .