The Loyal Bear and the Princess Fair
Summary: Deep in the open darkness of the Red Waste, an assassin laid in wait for Daenerys Stormborn. But even when his lethal attacks are foiled, the khaleesi is left fighting for her life, and can rely only on her loyal bear, Jorah, to save her.
Disclaimer: I only own this specific writing, nothing else.
Chapter One
For miles around, all that could be seen were plots of dead grass and gnarled dry trees. The landscape was covered in dust, not only from the dead of the plant life, but from the broken bones of those who had wasted away. Its reputation for causing many of the deceased in the wilderness was what had led the area to achieve its name. The Red Waste.
Though it was the same for miles around, there was one difference in landscape in the desert. Towards the north-east of the place, a horde of warriors camped out in the night, their makeshift tents fluttering in the harsh night's winds. Despite the terrible reputation of the wasteland in which they had made their campground, all of the Dothraki warriors seemed to be sleeping peacefully. This gave the hooded figure their first chance to strike.
In the loneliness of the Red Waste, there were no spies for any House, Westerosi or otherwise. No one could possibly see the treason that the man was about to commit against the Dothraki soldiers, as every one of them was deep in slumber, the heat wounding them too deeply for the warriors to remain awake to the depths of the night that the man moved through.
At the heart of the group of makeshift tents rested the one that house the very heart of the Dothraki themselves. Their khaleesi.
The khalasar had evidently spent a great deal of time to ensure that their queen was as comfortable as she could be, as they had always done for her, and each person would continue to do until they died, or until she did, a tragedy that did not bear thinking about. In the views of the traditionalists, Daenerys Stormborn should not have remained a leader, as her husband, the khal had become weak and had died, but the small remaining khalasar did not care. She had shown them kindness, compassion and strength, the qualities that they had always so desired in a khaleesi, but that none had ever shown. As such, she would remain their true khaleesi until the mountains blew in the wind like leaves.
However, there were those across the Narrow Sea who also did not agree with the woman being leader of a khalasar. Some of them, the more liberal ones, may not have challenged the fact that a woman was the commander of an army, though these would certainly have been a minority, but a Targaryen woman, the daughter of the Mad King, they would not allow it. She needed to be stopped, by any means necessary.
This was the reason for which the Dothraki had appointed a loyal man from her own birth land of Westeros to take care of the young khaleesi, as they trusted none with her life above Ser Jorah Mormont of Bear Island. The man had shown great courage for many a year, particularly since the arrival of the khaleesi and her late elder brother, Viserys, the Beggar King.
Regardless of his formidability in the country he had once called his own, the cloaked man stepped past the former Bear Islander as one would a sleeping child, showing not a hint of fear, despite the fact that the exiled knight would skin him alive, should he find him entering the tent of the khaleesi with the intentions for which he did so.
The moment he had stepped fully into the room, the cloaked man caught sight of the shimmering moonlight reflected off of the silver hair of Daenerys Targaryen. She was as beautiful as had been reported to them, even more so perhaps if that was possible, and her light locks and toning stood out clearly against the dark manes and copper skin of the Dothraki women. Crowned in silver and gold upon her head, it was clear that she was a queen, even as she slumbered.
'I wonder if she knows that she is in danger.' the man beneath the hood wondered to himself, as he reached into his cloak for the weapon that none of the horse riding screamers would ever have considered as deadly as it was about to prove to be. 'Though if she does, she will not know for long, not with the contents of this vial.'
As his thoughts rested on the vial once again, he clutched it tightly in his palm, the glass digging into his skin, the pain reminding him of the pain he was to cause, or the pain that would be caused for him if he did not accomplish the task. It was not a risk that he felt he could task, no matter how valiant of one it may have been.
Silently, the man beseeched the gods, praying that the Seven would forgive him for what he was about to do. It was, after all, the most awful of crimes, and it was said that those who committed it would be sent to the lowest layer of the seven hells. He could only hope that the gods would be merciful to him.
Not allowing himself to wait even another moment, for fear that he would change his mind and run, the man plucked the stopper out of the vial, pinched the woman's nose shut and tipped the contents of the bottle down her throat. It was done.
The moment the deed was accomplished, the man turned and ran, ensuring that he took the vial with him, so that he could not possibly be traced. In his wake, he left a woman deep in slumber, unaware as the awful liquid took root in her body, wrapping itself around her heart.
As morning light began to shine, before night was even really through, Daenerys was not roused, nor did she even stir. And nor would she.
A/N: No Jorah in this chapter, I know, but he'll be playing a huge part in the next few. I just wanted to establish what was happening for the rest of the story. Please review!