A Game of Thrones Chapter Seventy-two

DaenerysThe land was red and dead and parched, and good forestland was hard to come by. Her foragers re false with gnarled cotton woodss, purple light touch, sheaves of brown grass. They a desirek the two straightest trees, hacked the limbs and branches from them, climb off their bark, and split them, riging the logs in a square. Its center they modify with straw, brush, bark shavings, and bundles of dry grass. Rakharo chose a st altogetherion from the small herd that remained to them he was non the equal of Khal Drogos red, only few plys were. In the center of the square, Aggo provide him a withered apple and dropped him in an instant with an axe coddle in the midst of the eyeball.Bound hand and foot, Mirri Maz Duur watched from the dust with disquiet in her dismal eyes. It is non enough to kill a horse, she t emeritus Dany. By itself, the origination is nonhing. You do not subscribe the words to make a spell, nor the soundness to aim them. Do you think bloodma gic is a game for children? You call me maegi as if it were a curse, but all it means is wise. You are a child, with a childs ignorance. any(prenominal) you mean to do, it pull up s bows not work. Loose me from these bonds and I pass on alleviate you.I am tired of the maegis braying, Dany told Jhogo. He took his whip to her, and after that the godswife kept silent.Over the carcass of the horse, they built a political program of hewn logs drawers of smaller trees and limbs from the greater, and the wideest straightest branches they could find. They set(p) the wood east to west, from sunrise to sunset. On the platform they piled Khal Drogos treasures his great tent, his painted robes, his saddles and harness, the whip his father had tending(p) him when he came to worldhood, the arakh he had used to slay Khal Ogo and his son, a mighty dragonb wholeness bow. Aggo would have added the weapons Drogos bloodriders had given Dany for bride poses as well, but she forbade it. Those a re mine, she told him, and I mean to go for them. anformer(a)(prenominal) level of brush was piled ab away the khals treasures, and bundles of dried grass scattered all over them.Ser Jorah Mormont pull her aside as the sun was creeping toward its zenith. Princess . . . he began.Why do you call me that? Dany challenged him. My brother Viserys was your king, was he not?He was, my lady.Viserys is dead. I am his heir, the outlast blood of House Targaryen. Whatever was his is mine at one time.My . . . queen, Ser Jorah said, going to one knee. My sword that was his is yours, Dacnerys. And my construet as well, that never be vasted to your brother. I am tho a k night, and I have nothing to offer you but exile, but I beg you, hear me. Let Khal Drogo go. You shall not be alone. I promise you, no man shall fool you to Vaes Dothrak unless you wish to go. You need not join the dosh khaleen. Come east with me. Yi Ti, Qarth, the JadeSea, Asshai by the Shadow. We will see all the wonder s yet unseen, and drink what wines the gods see fit to serve us. Please, Khaleesi. I agnize what you intend. Do not. Do not.I must, Dany told him. She touched(p) his face, fondly, sadly. You do not understand.I understand that you loved him, Ser Jorah said in a voice thick with despair. I loved my lady wife once, yet I did not occur with her. You are my queen, my sword is yours, but do not choose me to stand aside as you climb on Drogos pyre. I will not watch you burn.Is that what you fear? Dany kissed him lightly on his broad fore topic. I am not such a child as that, beatific ser.You do not mean to fall apart with him? You swear it, my queen?I swear it, she said in the Common Tongue of the Seven Kingdoms that by rights were hers.The third level of the platform was woven of branches no thicker than a finger, and cover with dry leaves and twigs. They laid them north to south, from ice to drop off, and piled them high with soft cushions and sleeping silks. The sun had begun t o lower toward the west by the time they were make. Dany called the Dothraki virtually her. less than a hundred were left. How many had Aegon sense experienceted with? she wondered. It did not matter.You will be my khalasar, she told them. I see the faces of slaves. I free you. Take off your collars. Go if you wish, no one shall harm you. If you stay, it will be as brothers and sisters, husbands and wives. The black eyes watched her, wary, expressionless. I see the children, women, the wrinkled faces of the aged. I was a child yesterday. at once I am a woman. Tomorrow I will be old. To each of you I say, give me your hands and your hearts, and there will incessantly be a model for you. She turned to the three young warriors of her khas. Jhogo, to you I give the notes gray-handled whip that was my bride gift, and name you ko, and ask your oath, that you will live and murmur as blood of my blood, riding at my side to keep me in effect(p) from harm.Jhogo took the whip from he r hands, but his face was confused. Khaleesi, he said hesitantly, this is not done. It would pity me, to be bloodrider to a woman.Aggo, Dany called, paying no heed to Jhogos words. If I spirit back I am lost. To you I give the dragonbone bow that was my bride gift. It was double-curved, lustrous black and exquisite, taller than she was. I name you ko, and ask your oath, that you should live and die as blood of my blood, riding at my side to keep me safe from harm.Aggo accredited the bow with lowered eyes. I crumbnot say these words. Only a man mountain lead a khalasar or name a ko.Rakharo, Dany said, good turn away from the refusal, you shall have the great arakh that was my bride gift, with hilt and blade chased in golden. And you too I name my ko, and ask that you live and die as blood of my blood, riding at my side to keep me safe from harm.You are khaleesi, Rakharo said, taking the arakh. I shall ride at your side to Vaes Dothrak beneath the Mother of Mountains, and ke ep you safe from harm until you take your place with the crones of the dosh khaleen. No more can I promise.She nodded, as calmly as if she had not heard his answer, and turned to the last of her champions. Ser Jorah Mormont, she said, frontmostly and greatest of my knights, I have no bride gift to give you, but I swear to you, one day you shall have from my hands a longsword like none the world has ever seen, dragon-forged and make of Valyrian steel. And I would ask for your oath as well.You have it, my queen, Ser Jorah said, kneeling to lay his sword at her feet. I vow to serve you, to obey you, to die for you if need be.Whatever may come?Whatever may come.I shall hold you to that oath. I pray you never regret the giving of it. Dany lift him to his feet. Stretching on her toes to reach his lips, she kissed the knight gently and said, You are the first of my Queensguard.She could feel the eyes of the khalasar on her as she entered her tent. The Dothraki were muttering and giving her distant sideways looks from the corners of their dark almond eyes. They thought her mad, Dany realized. Perhaps she was. She would know soon enough. If I look back I am lost.Her bath was scalding savoury when Irri helped her into the tub, but Dany did not flinch or cry aloud. She liked the arouse. It do her feel clean. Jhiqui had scented the water with the oils she had found in the market in Vaes Dothrak the steam rose moist and fragrant. Doreah washed her hair and combed it out, works loose the mats and tangles. Irri scrubbed her back. Dany closed her eyes and let the smell and the rut enfold her. She could feel the heat soaking with the soreness between her thighs. She shuddered when it entered her, and her pain and stiffness seemed to dissolve. She spoiled.When she was clean, her handmaids helped her from the water. Irri and Jhiqui fanned her dry, while Doreah brushed her hair until it deplorable like a river of liquid silver devour her back. They scented her with s piceflower and cinnamon a touch on each wrist, behind her ears, on the tips of her milk-heavy breasts. The last dab was for her sex. Irris finger felt as light and cool as a lovers kiss as it slid softly up between her lips.Afterward, Dany displace them all away, so she might prepare Khal Drogo for his final ride into the night lands. She washed his body clean and brushed and oiled his hair, running her fingers through it for the last time, feeling the weight of it, remembering the first time she had touched it, the night of their wedding ride. His hair had never been cut. How many men could die with their hair uncut? She buried her face in it and inhaled the dark nosegay of the oils. He smelled like grass and warm earth, like smoke and semen and horses. He smelled like Drogo. Forgive me, sun of my life, she thought. Forgive me for all I have done and all I must do. I paying(a) the price, my star, but it was too high, too high . . .Dany braided his hair and slid the silver ring s onto his mustache and hung his bells one by one. So many bells, gold and silver and bronze. Bells so his enemies would hear him coming and grow weak with fear. She urbane him in horsehair leggings and high boots, buckling a belt heavy with gold and silver medallions about his waist. Over his scarred chest she slipped a painted vest, old and faded, the one Drogo had loved best. For herself she chose loose sandsilk trousers, sandals that laced halfway up her legs, and a vest like Drogos.The sun was going down when she called them back to lend his body to the pyre. The Dothraki watched in silence as Jhogo and Aggo bore him from the tent. Dany passed behind them. They laid him down on his cushions and silks, his head toward the Mother of Mountains far to the northeast.Oil, she commanded, and they brought forth the jars and poured them over the pyre, soaking the silks and the brush and the bundles of dry grass, until the oil trickled from beneath the logs and the air was sizeable w ith fragrance. Bring my eggs, Dany commanded her handmaids. Something in her voice made them run.Ser Jorah took her arm. My queen, Drogo will have no use for dragons eggs in the night lands. Better to sell them in Asshai. Sell one and we can buy a ship to take us back to the Free Cities. Sell all three and you will be a wealthy woman all your days.They were not given to me to sell, Dany told him.She climbed the pyre herself to place the eggs around her sun-and-stars. The black beside his heart, under his arm. The park beside his head, his braid coiled around it. The cream-and-gold down between his legs. When she kissed him for the last time, Dany could seek the sweetness of the oil on his lips.As she climbed down off the pyre, she notice Mirri Maz Duur watching her. You are mad, the godswife said hoarsely.Is it so far from madness to wisdom? Dany asked. Ser Jorah, take this maegi and bind her to the pyre.To the . . . my queen, no, hear me . . . Do as I say. electrostatic he hesi tated, until her anger flared. You swore to obey me, whatever might come. Rakharo, help him.The godswife did not cry out as they dragged her to Khal Drogos pyre and staked her down amidst his treasures. Dany poured the oil over the womans head herself. I thank you, Mirri Maz Duur, she said, for the lessons you have taught me.You will not hear me scream, Mirri responded as the oil dripped from her hair and soaked her clothing.I will, Dany said, but it is not your screams I want, only your life. I remember what you told me. Only death can pay for life. Mirri Maz Duur opened her mouth, but made no reply. As she stepped away, Dany aphorism that the contempt was gone from the maegis flat black eyes in its place was something that might have been fear. Then there was nothing to be done but watch the sun and look for the first star.When a horselord dies, his horse is slain with him, so he might ride proud into the night lands. The bodies are burned beneath the open sky, and the khal rises on his fiery steed to take his place among the stars. The more fiercely the man burned in life, the brighter his star will shine in the darkness.Jhogo spied it first. There, he said in a hushed voice. Dany looked and adage it, low in the east. The first star was a comet, burning red. transmission linered fire red the dragons tail. She could not have asked for a stronger sign.Dany took the flannel mullein from Aggos hand and thrust it between the logs. The oil took the fire at once, the brush and dried grass a heartbeat later. Tiny ardours went darting up the wood like swift red mice, skating over the oil and dancing from bark to branch to leaf. A rising heat puffed at her face, soft and sudden as a lovers breath, but in seconds it had bighearted too hot to bear. Dany stepped backward. The wood crackled, louder and louder. Mirri Maz Duur began to sing in a shrill, ululating voice. The flames whirled and writhed, speed each other up the platform. The dusk shimmered as the air it self seemed to coalesce from the heat. Dany heard logs spit and crack. The fires swept over Mirri Maz Duur. Her song grew louder, shriller . . . then she gasped, over again and again, and her song became a shuddering wail, thin and high and full of agony.And now the flames reached her Drogo, and now they were all around him. His clothing took fire, and for an instant the khal was clad in wisps of floating orange silk and tendrils of curling smoke, grey and greasy. Danys lips parted and she found herself holding her breath. Part of her wanted to go to him as Ser Jorah had feared, to rush into the flames to beg for his mildness and take him inside her one last time, the fire melting the kind from their bones until they were as one, forever.She could smell the odor of burning flesh, no contrastive than horseflesh roasting in a firepit. The pyre roared in the increase dusk like some great beast, drowning out the fainter sound of Mirri Maz Duurs utter and sending up long tongues of flame to lick at the tummy of the night. As the smoke grew thicker, the Dothraki backed away, coughing. Huge orange gouts of fire unfurled their banners in that hellish wind, the logs hissing and cracking, glowing cinders rising on the smoke to float away into the dark like so many newborn fireflies. The heat beat at the air with great red wings, control the Dothraki back, driving off even Mormont, but Dany stood her ground. She was the blood of the dragon, and the fire was in her.She had comprehend the truth of it long ago, Dany thought as she took a step close set(predicate) to the conflagration, but the brazier had not been hot enough. The flames writhed before her like the women who had danced at her wedding, whirling and singing and spinning their yellow and orange and wild veils, fearsome to behold, yet lovely, so lovely, alive with heat. Dany opened her arms to them, her splutter flushed and glowing. This is a wedding, too, she thought. Mirri Maz Duur had fallen sile nt. The godswife thought her a child, but children grow, and children learn.Another step, and Dany could feel the heat of the sand on the soles of her feet, even through her sandals. eliminate ran down her thighs and between her breasts and in rivulets over her cheeks, where tears had once run. Ser Jorah was cheering behind her, but he did not matter anymore, only the fire mattered. The flames were so stunning, the loveliest things she had ever seen, each one a sorcerer apparel in yellow and orange and scarlet, swirling long blackened cloaks. She axiom ablaze(p) firelions and great yellow serpents and unicorns made of pale blue flame she saw fish and foxes and monsters, wolves and bright birds and flowering trees, each more beautiful than the last. She saw a horse, a great grey stallion limned in smoke, its move mane a nimbus of blue flame. Yes, my love, my sun-and-stars, yes, mount now, ride now.Her vest had begun to smolder, so Dany shrugged it off and let it fall to the gr ound. The painted leather split into sudden flame as she skipped closer to the fire, her breasts bare to the blaze, streams of milk menstruation from her red and swollen nipples. Now, she thought, now, and for an instant she glimpsed Khal Drogo before her, mounted on his smoky stallion, a flaming lash in his hand. He smiled, and the whip snaked down at the pyre, hissing.She heard a crack, the sound of shattering stone. The platform of wood and brush and grass began to shift and collapse in upon itself. Bits of burning wood slid down at her, and Dany was showered with ash and cinders. And something else came crashing down, bouncing and rolling, to land at her feet a chunk of curved rock, pale and veined with gold, broken and smoking. The roaring fill the world, yet dimly through the firefall Dany heard women shriek and children cry out in wonder.Only death can pay for life.And there came a second crack, loud and sharp as thunder, and the smoke stirred and whirled around her and the pyre shifted, the logs exploding as the fire touched their secret hearts. She heard the screams of panic-stricken horses, and the voices of the Dothraki raised in rallying crys of fear and terror, and Ser Jorah traffic her name and cursing. No, she wanted to shout to him, no, my good knight, do not fear for me. The fire is mine. I am Daenerys Stormborn, daughter of dragons, bride of dragons, mother of dragons, dont you see? Dont you SEE? With a belch of flame and smoke that reached thirty feet into the sky, the pyre collapsed and came down around her. Unafraid, Dany stepped forward into the firestorm, calling to her children.The third crack was as loud and sharp as the breakage of the world.When the fire died at last and the ground became cool enough to walk upon, Ser Jorah Mormont found her amidst the ashes, surrounded by blackened logs and bits of glowing ember and the burned-out bones of man and woman and stallion. She was naked, covered with soot, her clothes turned to ash , her beautiful hair all crisped away . . . yet she was unhurt.The cream-and-gold dragon was suckling at her left breast, the green-and-bronze at the right. Her arms cradled them close. The black-and-scarlet beast was draped across her shoulders, its long sinuous neck coiled under her chin. When it saw Jorah, it raised its head and looked at him with eyes as red as coals.Wordless, the knight brute(a) to his knees. The men of her khas came up behind him. Jhogo was the first to lay his arakh at her feet. pedigree of my blood, he murmured, pushing his face to the smoking earth. Blood of my blood, she heard Aggo echo. Blood of my blood, Rakharo shouted.And after them came her handmaids, and then the others, all the Dothraki, men and women and children, and Dany had only to look at their eyes to know that they were hers now, today and tomorrow and forever, hers as they had never been Drogos.As Daenerys Targaryen rose to her feet, her black hissed, pale smoke venting from its mouth and nostrils. The other two pulled away from her breasts and added their voices to the call, translucent wings unfolding and stirring the air, and for the first time in hundreds of years, the night came alive with the music of dragons.THE END