Chapter 2: Across the Velvet Hills
The journey across the velvet hills towards the Dothraki sea was long and arduous. Daenerys, initially timid, found a quiet strength in the vast, open landscape and the stoic nature of Drogo's people. Viserys, however, found the Dothraki customs crude and their language guttural. Yet, he kept his disdain veiled, focusing instead on ensuring Daenerys's well-being.
He walked beside her litter for much of the way, his senses heightened. He could hear the faintest rustle in the grass, smell the distant smoke of other khalasars, and his inexplicable healing factor was a silent guardian against the myriad dangers of the road. Once, a stray arrow, meant for Daenerys, grazed his shoulder. The wound, which should have been deep and bleeding, closed visibly within moments, leaving the Dothraki archer bewildered. Viserys simply glared, attributing it to luck.
In the evenings, around the flickering campfires, Daenerys would often seek his company. They would speak of their childhood in the Red Keep, of stories their wet nurse had told them, and of the dreams they still held for Westeros. As they talked, a new kind of understanding blossomed between them. Viserys saw past Daenerys's initial shyness to the determined woman she was becoming, and Daenerys sensed the genuine affection beneath his often sharp exterior. The shared hardship and their isolation had forged a bond stronger than blood.
One night, as the stars blazed above them, Daenerys confessed her fears about her impending marriage. Viserys took her hand, his touch surprisingly gentle. "I will always be here for you, Dany," he vowed, the words carrying a weight that surprised even himself. "Always."