#Aggo | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

twicelivedsummer · 2 years

Text

I went through and gathered every line about Jhiqui, Irri, Rakharo, Jhogo and Aggo that I could find and gathered them by character. Tried to get longer conversations but may have missed a few “s/he said” lines; please tell me if you notice omissions or errors. Some context notes added.

If this prompts any interesting thoughts please do add them; I have some but want to have the raw resource stand-alone first.

Irri

Irri and Jhiqui were copper-skinned Dothraki with black hair and almond-shaped eyes, Irri will teach you riding, Jhiqui the Dothraki tongue

Her handmaid Irri and the young archers of her khas were fluid as centaurs, but Viserys still struggled with the short stirrups and the flat saddle.

The khal had commanded the handmaid Irri to teach Dany to ride in the Dothraki fashion, but it was the filly who was her real teacher.

Dany did not understand his words, but by then Irri was there, and Ser Jorah, and the rest of her khas. "Jhogo asks if you would have him dead, Khaleesi," Irri said. One of the others barked out a comment, and the Dothraki laughed. Irri told her, "Quaro thinks you should take an ear to teach him respect." Irri repeated her words in Dothraki. Jhogo gave a pull on the whip, yanking Viserys around like a puppet on a string. He went sprawling again, freed from the leather embrace, a thin line of blood under his chin where the whip had cut deep.

Doreah built a fire outside the tent, while Irri and Jhiqui fetched the big copper tub—another bride gift—from the packhorses and carried water from the pool. When the bath was steaming, Irri helped her into it and climbed in after her. "Have you ever seen a dragon?" she asked as Irri scrubbed her back and Jhiqui sluiced sand from her hair. She had heard that the first dragons had come from the east, from the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai and the islands of the Jade Sea. Perhaps some were still living there, in realms strange and wild. "Dragons are gone, Khaleesi," Irri said. "No dragon," Irri said. "Brave men kill them, for dragon terrible evil beasts. It is known." Jhiqui and Irri were of an age with Dany, Dothraki girls taken as slaves when Drogo destroyed their father's khalasar. The two Dothraki girls giggled and laughed. "You are foolish strawhead slave," Irri said. "Moon is no egg. Moon is god, woman wife of sun. It is known." Afterward Irri sprinkled her with spiceflower and cinnamon.

Cohollo came to Dany as Irri and Jhiqui were helping her down off her silver. Qotho had cruel eyes and quick hands that liked to hurt. He left bruises on Doreah's soft white skin whenever he touched her, and sometimes made Irri sob in the night.

"Irri, go to the bazaar and buy fruit and meat. Anything but horseflesh." "Horse is best," Irri said. "Horse makes a man strong." "Viserys hates horsemeat." "As you say, Khaleesi." She brought back a haunch of goat and a basket of fruits and vegetables.

Irri fetched the egg with the deep green shell, bronze flecks shining amid its scales as she turned it in her small hands.

Dany had dined on bowls of half-clotted blood to accustom herself to the taste, and Irri made her chew strips of dried horseflesh until her jaws were aching. Irri said the lake had no bottom, but Dany felt soft mud squishing between her toes as she pushed through the tall reeds. Only then was Doreah permitted to drape her in the scented sandsilk, and Irri to fit soft slippers to her feet. As Doreah and Irri arranged her cushions, she searched for her brother.

"Irri, have them prepare a litter." As Irri and Jhiqui helped her from her litter, she sniffed, and recognized the sharp odors of garlic and pepper, scents that reminded Dany of days long gone in the alleys of Tyrosh and Myr and brought a fond smile to her face.

"You have not laughed since your brother the Khal Rhaggat was crowned by Drogo," said Irri. "It is good to see, Khaleesi."

"She is nothing, Khaleesi. The riders do her honor. The Lamb Men lay with sheep, it is known." "It is known," her handmaid Irri echoed.

The slaves erected Khal Drogo's tent beneath a jagged outcrop of black rock whose shadow gave some relief from the heat of the afternoon sun. Even so, it was stifling under the sandsilk as Irri and Doreah helped Dany walk Drogo inside. Irri wanted to leave the tent flaps open to let in the breeze, but Dany forbade it.

"Qotho will find her," Irri said.

Wordlessly, her throat tight with fear, Dany made a gesture. Irri herded the other girls from the tent.

"The Lamb Woman knows the secrets of the birthing bed," Irri said. "She said so, I heard her."

Irri dampened a soft cloth and stroked her brow. "I have been sick," Dany said. The Dothraki girl nodded. "How long?" The cloth was soothing, but Irri seemed so sad, it frightened her. "Long," she whispered.

"The khal lives," Irri answered quietly … yet Dany saw a darkness in her eyes when she said the words, and no sooner had she spoken than she rushed away to fetch water.

"Khaleesi," the handmaid Irri explained, as if to a child, "Jhaqo is a khal now, with twenty thousand riders at his back."

Her bath was scalding hot when Irri helped her into the tub, but Dany did not flinch or cry aloud. She liked the heat. It made 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, working loose the mats and tangles. Irri scrubbed her back. When she was clean, her handmaids helped her from the water. Irri and Jhiqui fanned her dry, while Doreah brushed her hair until it fell like a river of liquid silver down her back. They scented her with spiceflower 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. Irri's finger felt as light and cool as a lover's kiss as it slid softly up between her lips.

"His time was past," her handmaid Irri declared. "No man should live longer than his teeth."

Each evenfall as the khalasar set out, she would choose a dragon to ride upon her shoulder. Irri and Jhiqui carried the others in a cage of woven wood slung between their mounts, and rode close behind her, so Dany was never out of their sight.

Jhiqui shuddered. "When the gods are gone, the evil ghosts feast by night. Such places are best shunned. It is known." "It is known," Irri agreed.

"Ghosts," Irri muttered. "Terrible ghosts. We must not stay here, Khaleesi, this is their place." "I fear no ghosts. Dragons are more powerful than ghosts." And figs are more important. "Go with Jhiqui and find me some clean sand for a bath, and trouble me no more with silly talk." When Irri and Jhiqui returned with pots of white sand, Dany stripped and let them scrub her clean.

Irri broke her reverie to tell her that Ser Jorah Mormont was outside, awaiting her pleasure.

Her doubts made her shiver. Suddenly the water felt cold to her, and the little fish prickling at her skin annoying. Dany stood and climbed from the pool. "Irri," she called, "Jhiqui." As the handmaids toweled her dry and wrapped her in a sandsilk robe, It was near evenfall and Dany was feeding her dragons when Irri stepped through the silken curtains to tell her that Ser Jorah had returned from the docks . . . and not alone.

She was breaking her fast on a bowl of cold shrimp-and-persimmon soup when Irri brought her a Qartheen gown, an airy confection of ivory samite patterned with seed pearls. "Take it away," Dany said. "The docks are no place for lady's finery."

her handmaids Irri and Jhiqui clutched the rail desperately and retched over the side at every little swell.

Irri had been sleeping at the foot of her bunk (it was too narrow for three, and tonight was Jhiqui's turn to share the soft featherbed with her khaleesi), but the handmaid roused at the knock and went to the door. She dressed quickly and left with Irri, closing the door behind them.

Still, the relief she wanted seemed to recede before her, until her dragons stirred, and one screamed out across the cabin, and Irri woke and saw what she was doing. Dany knew her face was flushed, but in the darkness Irri surely could not tell. Wordless, the handmaid put a hand on her breast, then bent to take a nipple in her mouth. Her other hand drifted down across the soft curve of belly, through the mound of fine silvery-gold hair, and went to work between Dany's thighs. It was no more than a few moments until her legs twisted and her breasts heaved and her whole body shuddered. She screamed then. Or perhaps that was Drogon. Irri never said a thing, only curled back up and went back to sleep the instant the thing was done.

"They have been wild while you were gone, Khaleesi," Irri told her. "Viserion clawed splinters from the door, do you see? And Drogon made to escape when the slaver men came to see them. When I grabbed his tail to hold him back, he turned and bit me." She showed Dany the marks of his teeth on her hand. "Did any of them try to burn their way free?" That was the thing that frightened Dany the most. "No, Khaleesi. Drogon breathed his fire, but in the empty air. The slaver men feared to come near him." She kissed Irri's hand where Drogon had bitten it. "I'm sorry he hurt you. Dragons are not meant to be locked up in a small ship's cabin." "Dragons are like horses in this," Irri said. "And riders, too. The horses scream below, Khaleesi, and kick at the wooden walls. I hear them. And Jhiqui says the old women and the little ones scream too, when you are not here. They do not like this water cart. They do not like the black salt sea." "I know," Dany said. "I do, I know." "My khaleesi is sad?" "Yes," Dany admitted. Sad and lost. "Should I pleasure the khaleesi?" Dany stepped away from her. "No. Irri, you do not need to do that. What happened that night, when you woke . . . you're no bed slave, I freed you, remember? You . . ." "I am handmaid to the Mother of Dragons," the girl said. "It is great honor to please my khaleesi." "I don't want that," she insisted. "I don't."

So as not to seem a beggar, Dany had brought her own attendants; Irri and Jhiqui in their sandsilk trousers and painted vests,

"Quaithe?" Dany sprung from the bed and threw open the door. Pale yellow lantern light flooded the cabin, and Irri and Jhiqui sat up sleepily.

Irri and Jhiqui had braided her hair and hung it with a tiny silver bell whose chime sang of the Undying of Qarth, burned in their Palace of Dust.

Dany had commanded that the top be removed, so her three dragons might be chained to the platform. Irri and Jhiqui rode with them, to try and keep them calm.

Drogon flew almost lazily at Kraznys, black wings beating. As he gave the slaver another taste of fire, Irri and Jhiqui unchained Viserion and Rhaegal, and suddenly there were three dragons in the air.

"Yunkai will have war," Dany told Whitebeard inside the pavilion. Irri and Jhiqui had covered the floor with carpets while Missandei lit a stick of incense to sweeten the dusty air. Dany studied them as Irri and Jhiqui poured the wine.

The wall and towers swarmed with crossbowmen and slingers. Ser Jorah and Grey Worm deployed her men, Irri and Jhiqui raised her pavilion, and Dany sat down to wait.

I must have this city," she told them, sitting crosslegged on a pile of cushions, her dragons all about her. Irri and Jhiqui poured wine.

Jhiqui helped Missandei bathe her while Irri was laying out her clothes.

[Meereen] Daario and Ben Plumm, Grey Worm, Irri, Jhiqui, Missandei . . . as she looked at them Dany found herself wondering which of them would betray her next.

Irri helped her slip from her court clothes and into more comfortable garb; baggy woolen breeches, a loose felted tunic, a painted Dothraki vest. "You are trembling, Khaleesi," the girl said as she knelt to lace up Dany's sandals.

Later, when the time came for sleep, Dany took Irri into bed with her, for the first time since the ship. But even as she shuddered in release and wound her fingers through her handmaid's thick black hair, she pretended it was Drogo holding her . . . only somehow his face kept turning into Daario's. If I want Daario I need only say so. She lay with Irri's legs entangled in her own. His eyes looked almost purple today . . . Irri slept soundly beside her, her lips slightly parted, one dark brown nipple peeping out above the sleeping silks. For a moment Dany was tempted, but it was Drogo she wanted, or perhaps Daario. Not Irri. The maid was sweet and skillful, but all her kisses tasted of duty. She rose, leaving Irri asleep in the moonlight. Jhiqui and Missandei slept in their own beds.

"Khaleesi," whispered Irri, "you must not touch the dead man. It is bad luck to touch the dead." "Unless you killed them yourself." Jhiqui was bigger-boned than Irri, with wide hips and heavy breasts. "That is known." "It is known," Irri agreed.

Her dragons were growing wild of late. Rhaegal had snapped at Irri,

Only then did Dany go back inside the pyramid, where Irri and Jhiqui were waiting to brush the tangles from her hair and garb her as befit the Queen of Meereen, in a Ghiscari tokar.

Irri fetched her crown, wrought in the shape of the three-headed dragon of her House.

To rule Meereen I must win the Meereenese, however much I may despise them. "I am ready," she told Irri.

Cleon the Great sends these slippers as a token of his love for Daenerys Stormborn, the Mother of Dragons." Irri slid the slippers onto Dany's feet.

What is it?" she cried, as Irri shook her gently by the shoulder. It was the black of night outside. Something is wrong, she knew at once. "Is it Daario? What's happened?" In her dream they had been man and wife, simple folk who lived a simple life in a tall stone house with a red door. In her dream he had been kissing her all over—her mouth, her neck, her breasts. "No, Khaleesi," Irri murmured, "it is your eunuch Grey Worm and the bald men. Will you see them?" Why does she weep?" "For him who was her brother," Irri told her.

As the sky lightened and the stars faded one by one, Irri and Jhiqui helped her don a tokar of violet silk fringed in gold.

Daenerys held out her cup for Irri to refill.

"A khaleesi must have a khal," said Irri, as she filled the queen's cup once again. "This is known."

"Xaro Xhoan Daxos has offered me thirteen galleys," she told Irri and Jhiqui as they were dressing her for court. "Thirteen is a bad number, Khaleesi," murmured Jhiqui, in the Dothraki tongue. "It is known." "It is known," Irri agreed. The two Dothraki girls exchanged a look. "The poison water is accursed, Khaleesi," said Irri. "Horses cannot drink it."

That night she could not sleep but turned and twisted restlessly in her bed. She even went so far as to summon Irri, hoping her caresses might help ease her way to rest, but after a short while she pushed the Dothraki girl away. Irri was sweet and soft and willing, but she was not Daario.

Irri came to tell her that Galazza Galare had returned, with three Blue Graces from the temple. "Grey Worm is come as well, Khaleesi. They beg words with you, most urgently." "Bring them to my hall. And summon Reznak and Skahaz. Did the Green Grace say what this was about?" "Astapor," said Irri.

When Daenerys returned to her pyramid, sore of limb and sick of heart, she found Missandei reading some old scroll whilst Irri and Jhiqui argued about Rakharo. "You are too skinny for him," Jhiqui was saying. "You are almost a boy. Rakharo does not bed with boys. This is known." Irri bristled back. "It is known that you are almost a cow. Rakharo does not bed with cows." "Jhiqui, help me from these clothes, then take them away and burn them. Irri, tell Qezza to find me something light and cool to wear. The day was very hot." "This one heard the Astapori scratching at the walls last night," the little scribe said as she was washing Dany's back. Irri and Jhiqui exchanged a look. "No one was scratching," said Jhiqui. "Scratching … how could they scratch?" "With their hands," said Missandei. "The bricks are old and crumbling. They are trying to claw their way into the city." "This would take them many years," said Irri. "The walls are very thick. This is known." "It is known," agreed Jhiqui.

Dany took Daario Naharis up the steps to her bedchamber, where Irri washed his cut with vinegar and Jhiqui wrapped it in white linen.

Sighing, she rose and called to Irri for a robe, then wandered out onto her terrace.

"This changes nothing," Dany said, as Irri removed her crown.

Afterward, as Jhiqui was patting Daenerys dry, Irri approached with her tokar. Dany envied the Dothraki maids their loose sandsilk trousers and painted vests. They would be much cooler than her in her tokar, with its heavy fringe of baby pearls. "Help me wind this round myself, please. I cannot manage all these pearls by myself."

"I keep my promises," he told her, as Irri and Jhiqui were robing them for bed.

Jhiqui slipped Dany's silk robe from her shoulders and Irri helped her into her bathing pool.

"Khaleesi, which tokar will you want today?" asked Irri.

As Jhiqui brushed Dany's hair and Irri painted the queen's nails, they chattered happily about the day's matches.

Irri and Jhiqui followed ahorse,

Dany could hear her handmaids arguing behind her, debating who was going to win the day's final match. Jhiqui favored the gigantic Goghor, who looked more bull than man, even to the bronze ring in his nose. Irri insisted that Belaquo Bonebreaker's flail would prove the giant's undoing. My handmaids are Dothraki, she told herself. Death rides with every khalasar.

She took her tokar off as well. The pearls rattled softly against one another as she unwound the silk. "Khaleesi?" Irri asked. "What are you doing?"

"Belaquo will win," Irri declared. "It is known."

whilst Irri and Jhiqui departed with the other Dothraki.

Jhiqui

Irri and Jhiqui were copper-skinned Dothraki with black hair and almond-shaped eyes, Irri will teach you riding, Jhiqui the Dothraki tongue

And the next day, strangely, she did not seem to hurt quite so much. It was as if the gods had heard her and taken pity. Even her handmaids noticed the change. "Khaleesi," Jhiqui said, "what is wrong? Are you sick?"

Doreah built a fire outside the tent, while Irri and Jhiqui fetched the big copper tub—another bride gift—from the packhorses and carried water from the pool. When the bath was steaming, Irri helped her into it and climbed in after her. "Have you ever seen a dragon?" she asked as Irri scrubbed her back and Jhiqui sluiced sand from her hair. "Dragons are gone, Khaleesi," Irri said. "Dead," agreed Jhiqui. "Long and long ago." Brave men kill them, for dragon terrible evil beasts. It is known." "It is known," agreed Jhiqui. Jhiqui and Irri were of an age with Dany, "Moon is no egg. Moon is god, woman wife of sun. It is known." "It is known," Jhiqui agreed. Jhiqui laid her down to oil her body and scrape the dirt from her pores.

They were on the far side of the Dothraki sea when Jhiqui brushed the soft swell of Dany's stomach with her fingers and said, "Khaleesi, you are with child."

Cohollo came to Dany as Irri and Jhiqui were helping her down off her silver.

Jhiqui had taught her that a bloodrider was more than a guard; they were the khal's brothers, his shadows, his fiercest friends. "Blood of my blood," Drogo called them, and so it was; they shared a single life. The ancient traditions of the horselords demanded that when the khal died, his bloodriders died with him, to ride at his side in the night lands. If the khal died at the hands of some enemy, they lived only long enough to avenge him, and then followed him joyfully into the grave. In some khalasars, Jhiqui said, the bloodriders shared the khal's wine, his tent, and even his wives, though never his horses. A man's mount was his own.

"Jhiqui, a bath, please," she commanded... The water was scalding hot, as she liked it. "I will give my brother his gifts tonight," she decided as Jhiqui was washing her hair.

Jhiqui roasted the meat with sweetgrass and firepods, basting it with honey as it cooked, and there were melons and pomegranates and plums and some queer eastern fruit Dany did not know.

"Your supper is ready, Khaleesi," Jhiqui announced.

"Khalakka dothrae mr'anha!" she proclaimed in her best Dothraki. A prince rides inside me! She had practiced the phrase for days with her handmaid Jhiqui. She stood to answer. "He shall be called Rhaego," she said, using the words that Jhiqui had taught her.

A thousand thousand years ago, Jhiqui told her, the first man had emerged from its depths, riding upon the back of the first horse.

Dany sent Jhiqui to bring [Jorah] to her table.

Distantly, as from far away, Dany heard her handmaid Jhiqui sobbing in fear, pleading that she dared not translate, that the khal would bind her and drag her behind his horse all the way up the Mother of Mountains. She put her arm around the girl. "Don't be afraid," she said. "I shall tell him."

As Doreah combed out her hair, she sent Jhiqui to find Ser Jorah Mormont. As Irri and Jhiqui helped her from her litter, Doreah and Jhiqui helped Dany back to her feet. The poisoned wine was leaking from the broken cask into the dirt.

Jhiqui helped Dany dismount; she had grown clumsy as her belly grew larger and heavier.

Dany remembered the word from a terrifying story that Jhiqui had told her one night by the cookfire. A maegi was a woman who lay with demons and practiced the blackest of sorceries, a vile thing, evil and soulless, who came to men in the dark of night and sucked life and strength from their bodies.

Doreah unhooked his medallion belt and stripped off his vest and leggings, while Jhiqui knelt by his feet to undo the laces of his riding sandals.

"Khaleesi," Jhiqui said, "he fell from his horse."

"Khaleesi?" Jhiqui hovered over her, a frightened doe. "I want …" "Yes, Khaleesi." Quick as that Jhiqui was gone, bolting from the tent, shouting.

"Irri," she called, "Jhiqui. Doreah." They were there at once. "My throat is dry," she said, "so dry," and they brought her water. It was warm and flat, yet Dany drank it eagerly, and sent Jhiqui for more. Irri dampened a soft cloth and stroked her brow. "I have been sick," Dany said. The Dothraki girl nodded. "How long?" The cloth was soothing, but Irri seemed so sad, it frightened her. "Long," she whispered. When Jhiqui returned with more water, Mirri Maz Duur came with her, eyes heavy from sleep. "Drink," she said, lifting Dany's head to the cup once more, but this time it was only wine.

Jhiqui brought a sandsilk robe and draped it over her shoulders.

Jhiqui would have run as well, but Dany caught her by the wrist and held her captive. "What is it? I must know. Drogo … and my child." Why had she not remembered the child until now? "My son … Rhaego … where is he? I want him." Her handmaid lowered her eyes. "The boy … he did not live, Khaleesi." Her voice was a frightened whisper. Dany released her wrist. My son is dead, she thought as Jhiqui left the tent.

Jhiqui had scented the water with the oils she had found in the market in Vaes Dothrak; the steam rose moist and fragrant. Irri and Jhiqui fanned her dry,

Jhiqui shuddered. "When the gods are gone, the evil ghosts feast by night. Such places are best shunned. It is known." "It is known," Irri agreed.

"Your hair is coming back, Khaleesi," Jhiqui said as she scraped sand off her back.

Dany stood and climbed from the pool. "Irri," she called, "Jhiqui." As the handmaids toweled her dry and wrapped her in a sandsilk robe,

The Summer Islander promised he would do so, and kissed her lightly on the fingers as he took his leave. Jhiqui showed him out,

Dany drew him down to the cushions beside her, and Jhiqui brought them a bowl of purple olives and onions drowned in wine.

Jhiqui had braided her hair Dothraki fashion, and fastened a silver bell to the end of the braid. "I have won no victories," she tried telling her handmaid when the bell tinkled softly. Jhiqui disagreed. "You burned the maegi in their house of dust and sent their souls to hell."

Irri and Jhiqui clutched the rail desperately and retched over the side at every little swell.

tonight was Jhiqui's turn to share the soft featherbed with her khaleesi

She put a hand on Jhiqui's bare shoulder and shook the other handmaid awake. "You as well, sweetling. Ser Jorah needs to talk to me." "Yes, Khaleesi." Jhiqui tumbled from the bunk, naked and yawning, her thick black hair tumbled about her head. She dressed quickly and left with Irri, closing the door behind them.

Whitebeard, her bloodriders, Jhiqui, every one had stopped what they were doing at the sound of the slap.

And Jhiqui says the old women and the little ones scream too, when you are not here.

her own attendants; Irri and Jhiqui in their sandsilk trousers and painted vests

"Give me all," she said, "and you may have a dragon." There was the sound of indrawn breath from Jhiqui beside her.

Pale yellow lantern light flooded the cabin, and Irri and Jhiqui sat up sleepily. "Khaleesi?" murmured Jhiqui, rubbing her eyes. Viserion woke and opened his jaws, and a puff of flame brightened even the darkest corners. There was no sign of a woman in a red lacquer mask. "Khaleesi, are you unwell?" asked Jhiqui.

Irri and Jhiqui had braided her hair and hung it with a tiny silver bell whose chime sang of the Undying of Qarth, burned in their Palace of Dust.

Irri and Jhiqui rode with them, to try and keep them calm. Irri and Jhiqui rode with them, to try and keep them calm. Yet Viserion's tail lashed back and forth, and smoke rose angry from his nostrils. Rhaegal could sense something wrong as well. Thrice he tried to take wing, only to be pulled down by the heavy chain in Jhiqui's hand.

Jhiqui unfastened one end of the chain, and handed it down to her. When she gave a yank, the black dragon raised his head, hissing, and unfolded wings of night and scarlet.

As he gave the slaver another taste of fire, Irri and Jhiqui unchained Viserion and Rhaegal, and suddenly there were three dragons in the air.

Irri and Jhiqui had covered the floor with carpets while Missandei lit a stick of incense to sweeten the dusty air. Dany studied them as Irri and Jhiqui poured the wine. The Braavosi held out his cup to Jhiqui. The hours crept by on turtle feet. Even after Jhiqui rubbed the knots from her shoulders, Dany was too restless for sleep.

Ser Jorah and Grey Worm deployed her men, Irri and Jhiqui raised her pavilion, and Dany sat down to wait.

Even her Dothraki handmaids had words of praise. "We would braid your hair and hang a bell in it, Strong Belwas," said Jhiqui, "but you have no hair to braid."

Irri and Jhiqui poured wine. "Blood of my blood," said Rakharo, "when cowards hide and burn the food and fodder, great khals must seek for braver foes. This is known." "It is known," Jhiqui agreed, as she poured.

Jhiqui helped Missandei bathe her while Irri was laying out her clothes.

[Meereen taken] Daario and Ben Plumm, Grey Worm, Irri, Jhiqui, Missandei . . . as she looked at them Dany found herself wondering which of them would betray her next.

Jhiqui and Missandei slept in their own beds.

Shrugging off the lion pelt, she knelt beside the corpse and closed the dead man's eyes, ignoring Jhiqui's gasp.

Only then did Dany go back inside the pyramid, where Irri and Jhiqui were waiting to brush the tangles from her hair and garb her as befit the Queen of Meereen, in a Ghiscari tokar.

The floppy ears she chose today were made of sheer white linen, with a fringe of golden tassels. With Jhiqui's help, she wound the tokar about herself correctly on her third attempt.

With so many still waiting on her pleasure, she did not stop to eat. Instead she dispatched Jhiqui to the kitchens for a platter of flatbread, olives, figs, and cheese.

"Who is that weeping?" "Your slave Missandei." Jhiqui had a taper in her hand. "My servant. I have no slaves." Dany did not understand. "Why does she weep?"

As the sky lightened and the stars faded one by one, Irri and Jhiqui helped her don a tokar of violet silk fringed in gold.

Xaro perused the fruits on the platter Jhiqui offered him and chose a persimmon.

"Xaro Xhoan Daxos has offered me thirteen galleys," she told Irri and Jhiqui as they were dressing her for court. "Thirteen is a bad number, Khaleesi," murmured Jhiqui, in the Dothraki tongue. "It is known." "Thirty would be better," Daenerys agreed. "Three hundred better still. But thirteen may suffice to carry us to Westeros." The two Dothraki girls exchanged a look.

whilst Irri and Jhiqui argued about Rakharo. "You are too skinny for him," Jhiqui was saying. "You are almost a boy. Rakharo does not bed with boys. This is known." Irri bristled back. "It is known that you are almost a cow. Rakharo does not bed with cows." "Rakharo is blood of my blood. His life belongs to me, not you," Dany told the two of them. Rakharo had grown almost half a foot during his time away from Meereen and returned with arms and legs thick with muscle and four bells in his hair. He towered over Aggo and Jhogo now, as her handmaids had both noticed. "Now be quiet. I need to bathe." She had never felt more soiled. "Jhiqui, help me from these clothes, then take them away and burn them.

"This one heard the Astapori scratching at the walls last night," the little scribe said as she was washing Dany's back. Irri and Jhiqui exchanged a look. "No one was scratching," said Jhiqui. "Scratching … how could they scratch?" "With their hands," said Missandei. "The bricks are old and crumbling. They are trying to claw their way into the city." "This would take them many years," said Irri. "The walls are very thick. This is known." "It is known," agreed Jhiqui. "I dream of them as well." Dany took Missandei's hand.

In the end she tried a dozen gowns before she found one she liked, but she refused the crown that Jhiqui offered her.

Dany took Daario Naharis up the steps to her bedchamber, where Irri washed his cut with vinegar and Jhiqui wrapped it in white linen.

Jhiqui brought a platter of figs and ham at midday. There seemed to be no end to the petitioners.

"It is time I bathed." Afterward, as Jhiqui was patting Daenerys dry, Irri approached with her tokar. Dany envied the Dothraki maids their loose sandsilk trousers and painted vests. They would be much cooler than her in her tokar, with its heavy fringe of baby pearls.

"I keep my promises," he told her, as Irri and Jhiqui were robing them for bed.

Jhiqui slipped Dany's silk robe from her shoulders and Irri helped her into her bathing pool. Jhiqui brought a soft towel to pat her dry. As Jhiqui brushed Dany's hair and Irri painted the queen's nails, they chattered happily about the day's matches.

"Jhiqui," she called, "sweet water, if you would. My throat is very dry."

"Khrazz believes the hearts of brave men make him stronger," said Hizdahr. Jhiqui murmured her approval. At first the riders seemed to have the advantage, riding down two of their foes and slashing the ear from a third, but then the surviving knights began to attack the horses, and one by one the riders were unmounted and slain, to Jhiqui's great disgust. "That was no true khalasar," she said. "It is not known," Jhiqui said. "Belaquo will die."

whilst Irri and Jhiqui departed with the other Dothraki.

Jhogo

The coil took Viserys around the throat and yanked him backward. The one with the whip, young Jhogo, rasped a question. Dany did not understand his words, but by then Irri was there, and Ser Jorah, and the rest of her khas. "Jhogo asks if you would have him dead, Khaleesi," Irri said.

"Tell them I do not wish him harmed," Dany said. Irri repeated her words in Dothraki. Jhogo gave a pull on the whip, yanking Viserys around like a puppet on a string. He went sprawling again, freed from the leather embrace, a thin line of blood under his chin where the whip had cut deep.

"Yet men die," she said. "Jhogo told me. Some of the traders have eunuchs with them, huge men who strangle thieves with wisps of silk. That way no blood is shed and the gods are not angered."

The wineseller had not put his hammer down. Jhogo reached for the whip coiled at his belt, but Dany stopped him with a light touch on the arm.

Dany heard the snap of Jhogo's whip, saw the leather lick out and coil around the wineseller's leg. The man sprawled face first in the dirt.

Jhogo, Jorah the Andal, to each of you I say, choose any horse you wish from my herds, and it is yours. Any horse save my red and the silver that was my bride gift to the moon of my life.

She spoke to her khas in the harsh accents of Dothraki. "Jhogo, Quaro, you will aid Ser Jorah. I want no rape."

"I will not have her harmed," Dany said. "I claim her. Do as I command you, or Khal Drogo will know the reason why." "Ai, Khaleesi," Jhogo replied, kicking his horse. Quaro and the others followed his lead, the bells in their hair chiming.

Dany heard Jhogo shout. The rapers laughed at him. One man shouted back. Jhogo's arakh flashed, and the man's head went tumbling from his shoulders. Laughter turned to curses as the horsemen reached for weapons, but by then Quaro and Aggo and Rakharo were there.

When her khas came up, she posted them outside at guard. "Admit no one without my leave," she told Jhogo. "No one."

Jhogo led the great red stallion into the tent. When the animal caught the scent of death, he screamed and reared, rolling his eyes. It took three men to subdue him.

"We need the blood," Mirri answered. "That is the way." Jhogo edged back, his hand on his arakh. He was a youth of sixteen years, whip-thin, fearless, quick to laugh, with the faint shadow of his first mustachio on his upper lip. He fell to his knees before her. "Khaleesi," he pleaded, "you must not do this thing. Let me kill this maegi."

Jhogo looked terrified as he struggled with the stallion's weight, afraid to touch the dead flesh, yet afraid to let go as well.

Rakharo was fighting Haggo, arakh dancing with arakh until Jhogo's whip cracked, loud as thunder, the lash coiling around Haggo's throat. A yank, and the bloodrider stumbled backward, losing his feet and his sword.

Jhogo and Aggo were digging a firepit to burn the dead stallion.

They found her on the carpet, crawling toward her dragon eggs. Ser Jorah Mormont lifted her in his arms and carried her back to her sleeping silks, while she struggled feebly against him. Over his shoulder she saw her three handmaids, Jhogo with his little wisp of mustache, and the flat broad face of Mirri Maz Duur.

Her handmaids waited with fruit and wine and water, and Jhogo moved close to help Ser Jorah support her. Aggo and Rakharo stood behind.

"A khal who cannot ride is no khal," said Jhogo.

"Mago seized her, who is Khal Jhaqo's bloodrider now," said Jhogo. "He mounted her high and low and gave her to his khal, and Jhaqo gave her to his other bloodriders. They were six. When they were done with her, they cut her throat."

but all it means is wise. You are a child, with a child's ignorance. Whatever you mean to do, it will not work. Loose me from these bonds and I will help you." "I am tired of the maegi's braying," Dany told Jhogo. He took his whip to her, and after that the godswife kept silent.

She turned to the three young warriors of her khas. "Jhogo, to you I give the silver-handled whip that was my bride gift, and name you ko, and ask your oath, that you will live and die as blood of my blood, riding at my side to keep me safe from harm." Jhogo took the whip from her hands, but his face was confused. "Khaleesi," he said hesitantly, "this is not done. It would shame me, to be bloodrider to a woman."

The sun was going down when she called them back to carry his body to the pyre. The Dothraki watched in silence as Jhogo and Aggo bore him from the tent.

Jhogo spied it first. "There," he said in a hushed voice. Dany looked and saw it, low in the east. The first star was a comet, burning red. Bloodred; fire red; the dragon's tail. She could not have asked for a stronger sign.

Wordless, the knight fell to his knees. The men of her khas came up behind him. Jhogo was the first to lay his arakh at her feet. "Blood of my blood," he murmured, pushing his face to the smoking earth.

Her lips and hands broke with blood blisters, her hair came out in clumps, and one evenfall she lacked the strength to mount her horse. Jhogo said they must leave her or bind her to her saddle,

and Jhogo discovered a well where the water was pure and cold.

Jhogo, you are to follow shierak qiya on southeast." "What shall we seek, Khaleesi?" asked Jhogo.

Jhogo was gone so long that Dany feared him lost, but finally when they had all but ceased to look for him, he came riding up from the southeast. One of the guards that Aggo had posted saw him first and gave a shout, and Dany rushed to the walls to see for herself. It was true. Jhogo came, yet not alone. Behind him rode three queerly garbed strangers atop ugly humped creatures that dwarfed any horse. They drew rein before the city gates, and looked up to see Dany on the wall above them. "Blood of my blood," Jhogo called, "I have been to the great city Qarth, and returned with three who would look on you with their own eyes."

"Jhogo can guard me as well.

"Make way," Jhogo shouted at the crowd from horseback, snapping his whip, "make way, make way for the Mother of Dragons."

"Make way, you Milk Men, make way for the Mother of Dragons," Jhogo cried, and the Qartheen moved aside, though perhaps the oxen had more to do with that than his voice. Through the swaying draperies, Dany caught glimpses of him astride his grey stallion. From time to time he gave one of the oxen a flick with the silver-handled whip she had given him.

"What are they looking at?" Jhogo rode back to her. "A firemage, Khaleesi." "I want to see." "Then you must." The Dothraki offered a hand down. When she took it, he pulled her up onto his horse and sat her in front of him, where she could see over the heads of the crowd.

Jhogo slid one hand about her waist and leaned close. "The Milk Men shun him. Khaleesi, do you see the girl in the felt hat? There, behind the fat priest. She is a—" "—cutpurse," finished Dany.

When he reached the top, the ladder was gone and so was he. "A fine trick," announced Jhogo with admiration.

"You are the Mother of Dragons, are you not?" "She is, and no spawn of shadows may touch her." Jhogo brushed Quaithe's fingers away with the handle of his whip.

"Blood of my blood," Jhogo said in Dothraki, "this is an evil place, a haunt of ghosts and maegi. See how it drinks the morning sun? Let us go before it drinks us as well."

Aggo put a hand on his arakh. "Khaleesi, it is said that many go into the Palace of Dust, but few come out." "It is said," Jhogo agreed.

Howling curses, Pyat Pree drew a knife and danced toward her, but Drogon flew at his face. Then she heard the crack of Jhogo's whip, and never was a sound so sweet.

Jhogo and Aggo would ride with her to the waterfront. Aggo went before her and Jhogo behind, leaving Ser Jorah Mormont at her side.

while Jhogo sniffed at the air suspiciously. "I smell it, Khaleesi," he called. "The poison water."

Jhogo bought a handful of fat white cherries.

"Aggo, Jhogo, you will guard the horses while Ser Jorah and I speak to the captains." "As you say, Khaleesi. We will watch you as you go."

She heard the hiss again. The old man drove the butt of his staff into the ground, Aggo came riding through an eggseller's stall and vaulted from his saddle, Jhogo's whip cracked overhead,

"I had to knock it away," he started, but her bloodriders were on him before he could finish. Aggo kicked his staff away and Jhogo seized him round the shoulders, forced him to his knees, and pressed a dagger to his throat. "Khaleesi, we saw him strike you. Would you see the color of his blood?"

Though Jhogo had released him, the old man remained on one knee.

Aggo and Jhogo fell in to either side of them, walking with the bowlegged swagger all the horselords affected when forced to dismount and stride the earth like common mortals.

"Make way!" Jhogo shouted as he rode before her litter. "Make way for the Mother of Dragons!" But when he uncoiled the great silver-handled whip that Dany had given him, and made to crack it in the air, she leaned out and told him nay. "Not in this place, blood of my blood," she said, in his own tongue. "These bricks have heard too much of the sound of whips."

Rakharo and Jhogo protected the litter.

One man kept his saddle long enough to draw a sword, but Jhogo's whip coiled about his neck and cut off his shout.

"Khaleesi," said Jhogo, "I will deal with these scouts. They are no riders, only slavers on horses."

Her bloodriders were in such a fever to go meet him that they almost came to blows. "Blood of my blood," Dany told them, "your place is here by me. This man is a buzzing fly, no more. Ignore him, he will soon be gone." Aggo, Jhogo, and Rakharo were brave warriors, but they were young, and too valuable to risk. They kept her khalasar together, and were her best scouts too.

"When cowards hide behind great walls, it is they who are defeated, Khaleesi," Ko Jhogo said.

Ben Plumm isn't going down in them sewers again, not for all the gold in the Seven Kingdoms. If there's others want to try it, though, they're welcome." Aggo, Jhogo, and Grey Worm all tried to speak at once, but Dany raised her hand for silence.

Jhogo rode before her, Aggo and Rakharo just behind, long Dothraki whips in hand to keep away the sick and dying.

"It is not good to touch the dead," said Jhogo.

Jhogo sucked in his breath. "Khaleesi, no." The bell in his braid rang softly as he dismounted. "You must not get any closer. Do not let them touch you! Do not!"

By the time Aggo returned with Grey Worm and fifty of the Unsullied loping behind his horse, Dany had shamed all of them into helping her. Symon Stripeback and his men were pulling the living from the dead and stacking up the corpses, while Jhogo and Rakharo and their Dothraki helped those who could still walk toward the shore to bathe and wash their clothes.

Jhogo, Daario Naharis, Admiral Groleo, and Hero of the Unsullied remained hostages of the Yunkai'i.

Aggo

Aggo and Rakharo, riding behind them

"Khal Drogo and I will share it together. Aggo, take this back to my litter, if you'd be so kind." The wineseller beamed as the Dothraki hefted the cask. She did not realize that Ser Jorah had returned until she heard the knight say, "No." His voice was strange, brusque. "Aggo, put down that cask." Aggo looked at Dany. She gave a hesitant nod. "Ser Jorah, is something wrong?"

The trader vaulted over the stall, darting between Aggo and Rakharo.

Laughter turned to curses as the horsemen reached for weapons, but by then Quaro and Aggo and Rakharo were there. She saw Aggo point across the road to where she sat upon her silver. The Dothraki went sprawling in the mud, bounced up with a knife in hand, and died with Aggo's arrow through his throat.

"The khal needs no help from women who lie with sheep," barked Qotho. "Aggo, cut out her tongue." Aggo grabbed her hair and pressed a knife to her throat. Dany lifted a hand. "No. She is mine. Let her speak." Aggo looked from her to Qotho. He lowered his knife.

A breath of air entered the tent as Aggo poked his head through the silk. "Khaleesi," he said, "the Andal is come, and begs leave to enter."

The stallion kicked and reared as Rakharo, Quaro, and Aggo pulled him close to the tub where the khal floated like one already dead

"My baby," she screamed, and perhaps the gods heard, for as quick as that, Cohollo was dead. Aggo's arrow took him under the arm, to pierce his lungs and heart.

Jhogo and Aggo were digging a firepit to burn the dead stallion.

"The maegi," someone else said. Was that Aggo? "Take her to the maegi."

Her handmaids waited with fruit and wine and water, and Jhogo moved close to help Ser Jorah support her. Aggo and Rakharo stood behind.

"The old remain," said Aggo. "The frightened, the weak, and the sick. And we who swore. We remain."

"It was her fate, Khaleesi," said Aggo.

Rakharo chose a stallion from the small herd that remained to them; he was not the equal of Khal Drogo's red, but few horses were. In the center of the square, Aggo fed him a withered apple and dropped him in an instant with an axe blow between the eyes.

Aggo would have added the weapons Drogo's bloodriders had given Dany for bride gifts as well, but she forbade it.

"Aggo," Dany called, paying no heed to Jhogo's words. If I look back I am lost. "To you I give the dragonbone bow that was my bride gift." It was double-curved, shiny 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 accepted the bow with lowered eyes. "I cannot say these words. Only a man can lead a khalasar or name a ko."

The Dothraki watched in silence as Jhogo and Aggo bore him from the tent.

Dany took the torch from Aggo's hand and thrust it between the logs.

"Blood of my blood," she heard Aggo echo.

"Khaleesi," Aggo murmured, "there sits Balerion, come again."

"Blood of my blood, go ahead of us and learn the name of this city, and what manner of welcome we should expect." "Ai, Khaleesi," said Aggo.

Aggo showed her a courtyard overgrown with twisting vines and tiny green grapes,

Aggo was back next. The southwest was barren and burnt, he swore. He had found the ruins of two more cities, smaller than Vaes Tolorro but otherwise the same. One was warded by a ring of skulls mounted on rusted iron spears, so he dared not enter, but he had explored the second for as long as he could. He showed Dany an iron bracelet he had found, set with a uncut fire opal the size of her thumb. There were scrolls as well, but they were dry and crumbling and Aggo had left them where they lay. Dany thanked him and told him to see to the repair of the gates. If enemies had crossed the waste to destroy these cities in ancient days, they might well come again. "If so, we must be ready," she declared.

One of the guards that Aggo had posted saw him first and gave a shout

"We will keep our own watch so long as we are here. See that no one enters this wing of the palace without my leave, and take care that the dragons are always well guarded." "It shall be done, Khaleesi," Aggo said.

Aggo guarded on her other side

—why are we stopping?" The oxen had slowed notably. "Khaleesi," Aggo called through the drapes as the palanquin jerked to a sudden halt.

Rakharo snorted contempt through his drooping black mustachios. "Khaleesi, better a man should swallow scorpions than trust in the spawn of shadows, who dare not show their face beneath the sun. It is known." "It is known," Aggo agreed.

Aggo put a hand on his arakh. "Khaleesi, it is said that many go into the Palace of Dust, but few come out." "We are blood of your blood," said Aggo, "sworn to live and die as you do. Let us walk with you in this dark place, to keep you safe from harm."

Jhogo and Aggo would ride with her to the waterfront. Aggo went before her and Jhogo behind, leaving Ser Jorah Mormont at her side.

By then there were people in the streets once more. "Make way," Aggo shouted,

Aggo gave an urchin a copper for a skewer of honey-roasted mice and nibbled them as he rode.

"Aggo, Jhogo, you will guard the horses while Ser Jorah and I speak to the captains." "As you say, Khaleesi. We will watch you as you go."

She heard the hiss again. The old man drove the butt of his staff into the ground, Aggo came riding through an eggseller's stall and vaulted from his saddle, Jhogo's whip cracked overhead,

Aggo kicked his staff away

Aggo picked up his staff, turned it over, cursed softly in Dothraki, scraped the remains of the manticore off on a stone, and handed it back.

Aggo's arakh leapt to his hand. "Never have I killed a fat brown man. Belwas will be the first."

Aggo and Jhogo fell in to either side of them, walking with the bowlegged swagger all the horselords affected when forced to dismount and stride the earth like common mortals.

Aggo helped Dany down from her litter.

Outside her door she found Aggo fitting a new string to his bow by the light of a swinging oil lamp.

Aggo went before her with his great Dothraki bow.

Aggo sat calmly notching arrows to his bowstring and sending them at tokars. Silver, gold, or plain, he cared nothing for the fringe.

On the march, the duty of guarding her fell upon their shoulders. She had made Jhogo, Aggo, and Rakharo her kos as well as her bloodriders, and just now she needed them more to command her Dothraki than to protect her person.

Jhogo rode before her, Aggo and Rakharo just behind, long Dothraki whips in hand to keep away the sick and dying.

"Man must not eat the flesh of man," said Aggo.

"Too many dead," Aggo said. "They should be burned."

"It is not good to touch the dead," said Jhogo. "This is known," Aggo and Rakharo said, together.

She beckoned Aggo closer. "Ride to the gates and bring me Grey Worm and fifty of his Unsullied." "Khaleesi. The blood of your blood obeys." Aggo touched his horse with his heels and galloped off.

Jhogo and Rakharo and their Dothraki helped those who could still walk toward the shore to bathe and wash their clothes. Aggo stared at them as if they had all gone mad

Irri and Jhiqui followed ahorse, with Aggo and Rakharo [wedding]

Aggo and Rakharo and the rest of the queen's khalasar had been dispatched across the river to search for their lost queen.

Rakharo

Dany felt disappointed, but Quaro liked his sausage so well he decided to have another one, and Rakharo had to outdo him and eat three more, belching loudly. Dany giggled.

The trader vaulted over the stall, darting between Aggo and Rakharo.

Laughter turned to curses as the horsemen reached for weapons, but by then Quaro and Aggo and Rakharo were there.

Khal Drogo writhed feebly as Rakharo and Quaro lowered him into the bath.

The stallion kicked and reared as Rakharo, Quaro, and Aggo pulled him close to the tub where the khal floated like one already dead,

Rakharo and Quaro stood beside the tent flap. Quaro took a step forward, reaching for the handle of his whip, but Qotho spun graceful as a dancer, the curved arakh rising. It caught Quaro low under the arm, the bright sharp steel biting up through leather and skin, through muscle and rib bone. Blood fountained as the young rider reeled backward, gasping.

Dany cried out for help, but no one heard. Rakharo was fighting Haggo, arakh dancing with arakh until Jhogo's whip cracked, loud as thunder, the lash coiling around Haggo's throat. A yank, and the bloodrider stumbled backward, losing his feet and his sword. Rakharo sprang forward, howling, swinging his arakh down with both hands through the top of Haggo's head. The point caught between his eyes, red and quivering.

Aggo and Rakharo stood behind. The glare of sun on sand made it hard to see more, until Dany raised her hand to shade her eyes.

"They took Khal Drogo's herds, Khaleesi," Rakharo said. "We were too few to stop them. It is the right of the strong to take from the weak. They took many slaves as well, the khal's and yours, yet they left some few."

Rakharo chose a stallion from the small herd that remained to them; he was not the equal of Khal Drogo's red, but few horses were.

"Rakharo, you shall have the great arakh that was my bride gift, with hilt and blade chased in gold. 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 keep you safe from harm until you take your place with the crones of the dosh khaleen. No more can I promise."

"You swore to obey me, whatever might come. Rakharo, help him." The godswife did not cry out as they dragged her to Khal Drogo's pyre and staked her down amidst his treasures.

"Blood of my blood," Rakharo shouted.

She might have struck downriver for the ports at Meereen and Yunkai and Astapor, but Rakharo warned her that Pono's khalasar had ridden that way, driving thousands of captives before them to sell in the flesh marts that festered like open sores on the shores of Slaver's Bay.

Her riders were not long in returning. Rakharo swung down from his saddle. From his medallion belt hung the great curving arakh that Dany had bestowed on him when she named him bloodrider. "This city is dead, Khaleesi. Nameless and godless we found it, the gates broken, only wind and flies moving through the streets."

Rakharo was the first to return. Due south the red waste stretched on and on, he reported, until it ended on a bleak shore beside the poison water. Between here and there lay only swirling sand, wind-scoured rocks, and plants bristly with sharp thorns. He had passed the bones of a dragon, he swore, so immense that he had ridden his horse through its great black jaws. Other than that, he had seen nothing. Dany gave him charge of a dozen of her strongest men, and set them to pulling up the plaza to get to the earth beneath. If devilgrass could grow between the paving stones, other grasses would grow when the stones were gone. They had wells enough, no lack of water. Given seed, they could make the plaza bloom.

"We have seen only the parts of Qarth that Pyat Pree wished us to see," she went on. "Rakharo, go forth and look on the rest, and tell me what you find. Take good men with you—and women, to go places where men are forbidden." "As you say, I do, blood of my blood," said Rakharo.

while Rakharo rode behind the procession, watching the faces in the crowd for any sign of danger.

The knife went flying, and an instant later Rakharo was slamming Pyat to the ground.

To guard her people and her dragons in her absence, she chose Rakharo. [qarth]

Rakharo helped them in [missandei & daenerys]

Rakharo sat crosslegged on the deck beside him, sharpening his arakh with a whetstone.

Rakharo and Jhogo protected the litter.

Another lost a hand to Rakharo's arakh and rode off reeling and spurting blood.

When Rakharo put an arrow through his mouth, the slaves holding his sedan chair broke and ran, dumping him unceremoniously on the ground.

"An hour past midnight should be time enough." "Yes, Khaleesi," said Rakharo. "Time for what?"

[belwas] "Why that one, Khaleesi?" Rakharo demanded of her. "He is fat and stupid."

Her other bloodriders concurred. "Blood of my blood," said Rakharo, "when cowards hide and burn the food and fodder, great khals must seek for braver foes. This is known."

"I will not march." "What will you do then, Khaleesi?" asked Rakharo.

Aggo and Rakharo just behind, long Dothraki whips in hand to keep away the sick and dying.

"It is not good to touch the dead," said Jhogo. "This is known," Aggo and Rakharo said, together.

while Jhogo and Rakharo and their Dothraki helped those who could still walk toward the shore to bathe and wash their clothes.

"You are too skinny for him," Jhiqui was saying. "You are almost a boy. Rakharo does not bed with boys. This is known." Irri bristled back. "It is known that you are almost a cow. Rakharo does not bed with cows." "Rakharo is blood of my blood. His life belongs to me, not you," Dany told the two of them. Rakharo had grown almost half a foot during his time away from Meereen and returned with arms and legs thick with muscle and four bells in his hair. He towered over Aggo and Jhogo now, as her handmaids had both noticed.

Riders have been seen beyond the Skahazadhan. Dothraki scouts, Rakharo says, with a khalasar behind them.

[wedding] Irri and Jhiqui followed ahorse, with Aggo and Rakharo

Aggo and Rakharo and the rest of the queen's khalasar had been dispatched across the river to search for their lost queen.

#ASoIaF #Dothraki #valyrianscrolls #Irri #Jhiqui #Jhogo #Aggo #Rakharo #daenerys targaryen

67 notes · View notes