Danyul fled to the wandering tribe of strong, terrifying Dothraki horsemen. He needed to lay low for a while, and he got the distinct impression that, since the Dothraki still didn't have armor or medicine or pants, they probably weren't up on the latest news (re: Danyul's many acts of high treason and illicit fornication).
"Y'all seem like an absolutely wonderful tribe of horrifying rage-monsters, I love it. And you -- skinny blonde woman -- are you their queen? That seems pretty out of place. I feel like you can't really lead these people."
"I can," Daenerys Targaryen, queen of the Dothraki, said, "and I will!"
"Is that how you're gonna deliver that line?" Danyul said quietly to no one in particular. Bad enough that it was an overused line, but now it was saddled with the performance of a high school theater actress in an unconvincing blond wig. If something interesting didn't happen soon, Danyul was liable to abandon the Dothraki and--
SUDDENLY, the leader of the Dothraki TOTALLY RIPPED SOME OTHER DUDE'S THROAT OUT. For the entirety of the series, Khal Drogo, the king, carried himself like a man who could at any moment rip out the throat of another dude so convincingly that Danyul was frustrated every second that he didn't do just that. When he finally DID rip that dude's throat out, Danyul wept with joy. Then Khal Drogo died (having done the thing he was put on this earth to do). And there went the only interesting thing about the Dothraki tribe.
"I'm in charge now. I will lead the Dothraki," the local theater actress playing Daenerys said unconvincingly. Danyul, knowing that leaving the Dothraki meant certain death at the hands of the king, decided to take his chances and bailed.
His work with the savage Dothraki tribe complete, Sir Danyul, Screamer of Filth, Toucher of Butts, traveled onward to King's Landing, whereupon he met the newly crowned king, Joffrey Baratheon, son of Robert. Joffrey wore the crown unconvincingly; the crown only highlighted how out-of-place it was atop Joffrey's golden head, like a soldier wearing the tails and accoutrement of a nobleman, or like when a dog wears sunglasses. Despite the alien nature of the crown, he smirked the smirk of one intoxicated by his own power. Also he looked like this.
People came from all over the world to pay their respects to the new boy king. There were lines of peasants offering gifts, wise men offering advice and soldiers offering their swords. Danyul sat in the back with Hordor (his closest and only friend) and a few other random townsfolk: Jorg, who was a merchant; Rolph, son of Dagar, who was a former knight; and Mertha, who did something with dogs (no one was really sure).
"Quite a large turnout," Rolph said, clutching his gift (a rare dagger he'd acquired in the previous war).
"Indeed," agreed Jorg. "We've come out in droves to honor our new, brave king."
"Hey," Danyul said.
"I do hope this king is a merciful king."
"Yes, merciful and fair, not unlike his father."
The gentlemen tried to politely ignore Danyul, but he was from somewhere between the Wall to the North and all of those hoards of zombies and mutants, where grace and social etiquette are not only not taught but actively frowned upon.
"Hey, you guys, it's me, Danyul."
"I'm sure whatever way our king decides to rule will be the right way," Mertha offered, in an attempt to block Danyul's conversational stampede.
"We totally have to kill that kid, you guys."
There was a long silence.
"It's me, Danyul."
"We know who you are," Rolph said in a hasty whisper, "stop introducing yourself. What you speak of is treason."
"Right, and I'm WAY against treason. You're not going to find a dude more against treason than me. Ask anyone 'Who hates treason?' and they'll tell you: this guy." Danyul punctuated that last point by using both of his thumbs to indicate himself.
"Then why would you suggest regicide?"
"Well, I'm against treason, and I'm also against judging a book by its cover, and I'm ALSO against murdering children ... but seriously, look at that fucking kid. Again, I'm not an advocate of harming children, but if there's any kid in the world who, at face value, was clearly evil, it's that kid, right there. Lord Children of the Corn, His Holiness of the Aryan Brotherhood, or whatever."
"You only say that because he had the good Ned Stark executed," Mertha said.
"He did that? This is the first I've heard of it. I actually don't know anything about this kid, I just ... I mean, look at him. He sucks. And he's objectively evil-looking. If I had to design someone to be the embodiment of slimy evil, he's the guy I'd design. He looks like if vanity, smugness and blond hair had a baby. He's what entitled douchebags bow and pray to at dawn. At all times he looks like he just can't wait to go home and smell his own poop. Slimy, slimy little twerp, I hate him."
"Sssssurely he doesn't have the market cornered on sssslime, does he?" asked Varys from the shadows.
"Oh, Christ, seriously screw you, Varys."
For more from Dan, check out My Brief Time as a Student at Hogwarts and If 'Twilight' Was About Dragons (And Contained More Fisting).