Viserys Targaryen held the magnificent dress in his arms as he pushed open his sister's door, his face alight with excitement and anticipation.
The dress was truly beautiful.
Illyrio had called it a small gift, but it was clearly a priceless treasure.
The silk, light as a cicada's wings, was dyed the purest purple. Coiling dragons were embroidered along the hem in gold thread, and tiny pearls studded the neckline and cuffs, gleaming softly even in the dim room.
"Dany!"
Viserys called out loudly, displaying the dress before his sister. "Look what Governor Illyrio has sent! Now this is clothing worthy of the blood of the True Dragon!"
Daenerys Targaryen sat by the window, gazing at the withered flowers in the courtyard.
She turned, her violet eyes settling on the dress without delight, only a faint detachment.
"It's beautiful, brother." Her voice was quiet.
"Beautiful?"
Viserys strode over and thrust the dress into her arms without another word. "Dany, don't you understand?"
"This isn't an ordinary dress. It's a battle robe! It's armor!"
He bent down and pressed both hands onto Daenerys's slender shoulders, his breathing quick:
"Khal Drogo, the mightiest Khal on the Dothraki Sea, has tens of thousands of warriors under his command! Tens of thousands! Do you know what that means?"
Daenerys's fingers touched the cool silk.
She thought of that Governor of Pentos.
After she and her brother had hurriedly "escaped" from Lys, she had thought they would return to their old life of wandering among the Free Cities.
But shortly after they left Lys, the Governor who called himself Illyrio had sent men to find them. She had no idea how she and her brother had been "found" so precisely on the vast Narrow Sea.
Here, she and her brother had been treated with courtesy,