Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, Game of Thrones, or the Song of Ice and Fire series. They belong to Fox, HBO, and George Martin, respectively.

Author's Note: My second foray into g!p. Filled for a prompt on the Glee Kink Meme. I LOVE Game of Thrones, and HBO did a really good job with the first season. My favorite character is, obviously, Daenarys. A friend sent over this prompt, knowing that I was a big fan of the TV show and book series, and I COULD NOT UNSEE Brittany as Daenarys or Santana as Drogo. So we have this. Read, enjoy, and if you like it, let me know what you think.

Some of the dialogue (mostly between Doreah and Daenarys) is taken from the show.

A Marriage of Convenience

Brittany despises her wedding day. The sun shines bright, the sky breathes a clean breath across this stretch of the Dothraki Sea, but its beauty does nothing to ease the fog around her heart. Brittany is beautiful, though, even if her beauty is a curse at the moment, clad in Illyrio's fine lilac wedding gown. She glances at her brother.

Samuel Targaryen is the last heir to the dethroned Targaryens, besides herself, and the one who had betrothed her to Khal Santana Lopez, Horse Lord of the Dothraki. All for a throne, and a time, neither of them remember.

"She is a barbarian, of course, but she's only got the finest army this side of the sea." he had said. "And you will be her queen."

And Brittany, as a woman – nay, child still, at sixteen – and thus powerless, was given as wife to the powerful Lord of the Dothraki Sea. She does not want to be queen. She just wants to go home, to Westeros. Sam did too.

"I would let her whole tribe fuck you, all forty thousand men, if that's what it took," he had said, placing a kiss on her forehead. The kiss still burns on her skin.

Brittany sits next to Khal Santana, feeling fear and shock and awe in equal parts, as she observes the wedding reception. Half clothed men and women danced and sang and ate. Sometimes at the same time. A few fornicated openly with each other. A fight breaks out between two warriors vying for the chance to mate with a young Dothraki woman, and they draw their swords and fight to the death.

It was, in no uncertain terms, barbaric.

To Brittany's right, dark eyes are fierce and dancing with amusement as she watches the festivities. Santana's body is small and taut, all muscle and sinew, and the blonde wonders how a tiny woman had managed to triumph over hordes of hulking men. Her dark hair is tied up in its traditional long braid. Brittany remembers what Sam told her, that Dothraki, when defeated in battle, have their braids chopped off as a sign of humiliation. The Khal's braid almost reaches her ankles; she has never been defeated.

Three fossilized dragon's eggs and a stack of books are Brittany's favorite wedding gifts. She's sure they will be her only favorite things for a long time.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Her wedding night is not the romantic, sweet one she imagines from her poems.

She lays on a bed of soft pelts, still clad in her beautiful lilac gown, surrounded by glowing candles in the large horsehide tent.

The Khal staggers into the tent, slurring drunk, and settles her dark eyes on the beautiful girl in her bed. Those eyes are black with wine and lust, and Brittany shrinks back, fearful and shy.

"My Lord, I –"

Her words are cut off as Khal Santana quickly removes her clothing. The leather riding shorts drop to the floor, along with her weapon-laden belt. She removes her leather chest binding, nude before Brittany's widening blue eyes.

The exiled princess had heard the stories of the Khal's body, how the Dothraki had welcomed a prophesied god child into their midst. A child blessed with the traits of both man and woman. Seeing it in person was a different story.

Brittany lets out a gasp as the warrior crawls onto the bed, looming over her body. She makes to move away, but the Khal holds her firm. She feels hands under her gown, removing the offending item. Brittany struggles under Santana's grip before she's quickly flipped over, her young body exposed.

Santana mounts her like an animal, aggressive and rough. Tan hands are on her buttocks, holding her firm. Brittany's crying, but her pained gasps reach deaf ears. Her virgin body feels violated by the burning rod being thrust up into her. It feels as though her body is being torn from the inside. She hears the Khal's animalistic grunts from behind, feels her breasts grinding into her back.

It doesn't take long before Santana climaxes. She lets out a loud grunt and her hips move arrrhythmically before stilling, breathing hard. Brittany feels a fiery warmth blossom inside her. Her eyes are clenched shut.

They stay like that for a bit before the dark haired warrior pulls out, exhausted. She falls asleep almost immediately.

The blonde rolls away, turning towards the wall of the tent. Her loins are sticky with blood and semen. Brittany pulls the blankets over her body, eyes still shut, and continues to silently weep.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The days pass much slower now, Brittany admits. The horde ride constantly, and she is not used to being on a horse for hours of the day. But there are women who take care of their Khaleesi, waiting on her hand and foot.

Khal Santana takes her almost every night in their tent. Sometimes she is taken so roughly she has to ride sidesaddle the next day. They don't speak, and Brittany learns not to cry.

But there are rather confusing moments in her life.

Brittany does not complain to her Lord, but she tells Ser Jorah Mormont of her troubles.

She begins to grow sick of dried horse meat and traveling rations. Mornings later there are fresh berries and cheese in their tent. Her hands become calloused and red from the riding, and sooner than later the slaves hurry in with caskets of mare's milk to bathe her aching hands and feet.

She sees Khal Santana speak to Ser Mormont. She has an inkling of an idea as to why. The slaves don't tell her anything, but Brittany feels the Khal's gaze on her more often now.

There is rabbit stew, bread, and cheese waiting in the tent for her. She told Ser Mormont that she had been craving rabbit that morning.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sam tells her to please Khal Santana. This would ensure that she will lend him her army to conquer the Seven Kingdoms and retake the throne. He tells a slave to teach Brittany the art of pleasure.

Doreah is beautiful, with long dark hair and caramel-colored eyes.

She straddles Brittany. Her eyes are light and her smile flirty. Brittany's eyes flicker away, unaccustomed to meeting someone's prolonged gaze.

"No, Khaleesi, you must look into her eyes always. Love comes in at the eyes." The slave leans closer.

"It is said that Arygenia of Liese could finish a man with nothing but her eyes."

Brittany blinks, confused. "Finish a man?"

Doreah links their fingers together, looking at her meaningfully.

"Oh." Brittany blushes, smiles shyly. The other woman continues with her story.

"It is said kings traveled across the world for a night with Arygenia. Kings sold their palaces, villages burned," she breathes. "They say a thousand men proposed to her and she refused them all."

"She sounds like an interesting woman," Brittany whispers. Her heart is hammering in her chest, gazing up at the exquisite woman in front of her. She swallows.

"I don't think that Santana will like it with me on top," the blonde murmurs moments later. Doreah brings her face close.

"You will make her like it, Khaleesi." She's close enough that her breath tickles Brittany's face. "Men want something they've never had, and the Dothraki take women like a hound takes a bitch. And The Great Khal, while not a man, desires as one."

Something throbs between her legs. Brittany had never felt that before. Doreah feels it too, feels the desire wafting off the girl like fumes.

"Are you a slave, Khaleesi?" the slave asks.

Brittany shakes her head, looking away. Doreah leans back, raising the girl's hands and guiding them to her hips. She beings to rock gently, bringing their hips together.

"Then don't make love like a slave."

Brittany stares at her for a moment, and then surges upward, toppling the other woman gently and straddling her. Doreah lets out a gasp as she lands on the soft blankets.

"Very good, Khaleesi," she smiles. ""Out there she is the mighty Khal. But in here she belongs to you."

Brittany's eyes fill with want. She leans down, like Doreah had done before, looking into the girl's searching gaze. Then a hand brushes her hair and Brittany snaps back quickly, looming over the young slave in a low crouch.

"I ... I don't think this is the Dothraki way," she forces out. Brittany doesn't see herself topping Santana like this, the Khal letting herself be dominated. Doreah's reply makes her think.

"If she wanted the Dothraki way, then why did she marry you?"