Her brother took her by the arm as Illyrio waddled over to the khal, his fingers squeezing so hard that they hurt.
“Do you see his braid, sweet sister?”
Drogo’s braid was black as midnight and heavy with scented oil, hung with tiny bells that rang softly as he moved. It swung well past his belt, below even his buttocks, the end of it brushing against the back of his thighs.
“You see how long it is?” Viserys said. “When Dothraki are defeated in combat, they cut off their braids in disgrace, so the world will know their shame."
Khal Drogo has never lost a fight.
“He is Aegon the Dragonlord come again, and you will be his queen.” - Daenerys I, AGOT















