Hoshor Plains Khaleesi

Following the heated pack meeting, Vitihi retreated to the herd's flank to find solace in the Rhoa's thundering footsteps. She sat, tail curled around her feet, and bathed in their sound and presence. Never did the maiden think she would find herself thrust in such a position – claimed by the Khal Rakharo as his Khaleesi – for her destiny had always seemed so certain. After many moons of studying with the elders of her tribe in Rhaesh Dahaan, and serving the Dosh Khaleen, Vitihi had always assumed she would fall into the role of spiritual guide for her people. Perhaps then she would have been claimed by a man of strong standing in the Khalas — maybe it would have been Lavahko. But a Khaleesi? The mother to her people? That dream had always felt lightyears away.

Vitihi bit her lip, imagining the wise words of her father. He would have been honored to see his daughter blessed with such an opportunity, she mused to herself. Though Zhavvi heavily objected the decision, Rakharo believed in her enough to name Nevakko’s daughter his bride. It should have been enough to reassure the nubile flower, but Vitihi couldn’t shake the feeling of uncertainty. All of a sudden, she felt as though she were a tenderfoot on new grounds.

As her thoughts trailed, the golden Khal suddenly appeared and crossed the dry earth. Her orange gaze studied him in a new light; for this would be the man with whom she would marry, amongst other things. The Khal had been in love once before, she knew… though Zhalia’s memory was fuzzy in Vitihi’s mind. What had happened to their family was a great tragedy, but the young woman couldn’t help but wonder how Rakharo felt. Zhavvi had more than a few words to say about it.

“Rakharo…” she said, standing to greet him, “Hash yer dothrae chek?" Her voice was soft as she probed with an easy question to better gauge his mood.