So here is another chapter, thank you all so, so much for your reviews, follows and favourites - it means a lot to me. x
I also thought I should mention - if any of the characters seem OOC it is because they are much older, over a decade has passed so they have changed.
Anyway this is a Dany chapter, I don't know how you'll feel with her character but I like her. But thank you all for reading, and enjoy xx
II
DAENERYS
CRIES awoke Queen Daenerys Targaryen in the early morning. She sat up so quickly that her husband rolled over, she slipped out of the bed and pulled on a nightdress. Following the cries she came to a nursery just off the chambers, there a small child with chubby little fists and black hair cried. Slowly, she bent down to lift the small child into her arms, pressing one hand to the side of her head as she rocked up. The child quietened as he was led to a breast that was revealed to feed as she moved to look over her city.
Meereen was an achievement that Daenerys could be proud of. Yet still, it was not enough. How could it be enough when the wrong King still sat on the throne of her ancestors? Daenerys stroked back the black curls of her son, rocking him and humming a Dothraki lullaby under her breath. He quietened as his hunger began to fade and he was comforted by his mother. His teeth grazed her nipple and she hissed, knowing that soon her son would need to be weaned from the breast, yet it always left her feeling empty when he child grew older.
"Mama," a soft voice had Daenerys turning her head. "Why does Najaho cry so loud?" The question was asked in Dothraki which was the tongue the family spoke together when intimate with one another.
"He is hungry," Daenerys answered her son. "And he roars loudly," she smiled as the young boy made his way to her. "You are up early Vorsakko, the sun is yet to rise."
"Najaho woke me," he pressed his body into her side.
"Me too," she stroked back his black curls that were loose. His hair fell to the middle of his back in thick curls, often kept in a braid but it was loosened at night to help him sleep better.
"Moon of my life," a deep rumble that had Daenerys smiling had them all turning their head to the doorway. Pants hung low on the hips of her husband as he moved into the nursery, pressing his forehead against her own.
"My sun and stars," their lips pressed toward and he touched her cheek.
"Papa," a cry from Vorsakko had him raised into his father's arms and he hugged the man with all his might.
"Vorsakko," Drogo's dark eyes flickered over his son who was a shade or two paler than himself. "You have awoken early."
"I am not tired," Vorsakko looked to his little brother. "Najaho woke me up."
"He has awoken everyone," Drogo touched the dark head of his youngest. "We will awaken Rhaego to train."
Vorsakko was carried from the chambers in his father's arms, Daenerys smiling at the two of them and adjusting herself once Najaho was fed. Following after the two of them at a distance, she patted her son's back as they made their way down the stairs to the shared chambers of her two older sons. Vorsakko's hearing was sharp, he could hear up the stairs to the room of Najaho, yet the cries of her youngest were attributed to roars as he cried so loud. Daenerys had never felt more fulfilled as a mother, yet she wanted her children to grow up in her ancestral home.
"Rhaego!" Vorsakko was quickly out of his father's arms, jumping on his brother's bed as they entered the room as the sun began to rise over the horizon.
"Vorsakko!" The voice of Rhaego snapped, "I am sleeping."
"You no longer sleep," Drogo crossed the room to pull the blankets off his son. "We train."
Rhaego sat up slowly, blinking through tired eyes and narrowed an icy glare at his father. It was one he had perfected from his mother when he did not get his way, he grumbled and slid out of the bed. His own dark curls hit the middle of his back but was not let loose like Vorsakko's, yet curls were falling out of the braid. He went to pull a tunic over his head but was stopped by his father that liked to train his sons bare chested. Daenerys had never liked it as her son already had slight scars on his torso, yet it was the way of the Dothraki.
"Mama," Rhaego turned to his mother. "Can you stop him?"
"No," Daenerys smiled softly. "But I am sure Grey Worm will offer help."
Both her sons enjoyed the solemn Unsullied, their eyes lit up. "Really?" Vorsakko jumped up and down.
"Yes," Daenerys knew that Grey Worm always watched over the young princes carefully.
"Moon of my life," there was warning in Drogo's tone, but she only smiled at him.
"Come," she patted his shoulder. "We do not wish to be late for training."
Never before had Daenerys seen such a man with such pride in his sons. It made her wonder if her father had been alive to show pride in Viserys, would her brother had not become mad? Daenerys stroked her babe's back as they made their way through the large castle in the centre of Meereen to the outside. Most of the Unsullied and the Dothraki trained together, showing each other different tactics. Her sons enjoyed being with both groups, learning from each of them a style that would shake Westeros when they would land. Soon, she hoped.
The training yard was a large, wide area that overlooked the city of Meereen, the buildings that were piled together tightly. There were no railings to stop someone from falling off the edge and it was often used as a perch for her dragons when not in use. Sand was brought from the ground to cover it, making it much easier for training. Drogo did not like the height, he thought it impractical for training but Daenerys assured him that it would be no different had her sons train on the grass. Yet often they all located outside the city for training with horses, something even several Unsullied wished to learn.
"Your sons are strong," Irri, her handmaid, complimented from beside her.
"Irri," Daenerys turned to her with a smile. "Thank you."
"You are welcome," Irri then smiled. "Rakharo is fierce, is he not?"
Rakharo, one of the bloodriders sworn to the Khal and Khaleesi, was fierce. He was tall with bulging muscles, he could almost rival Drogo in height and strength. He had a thick, black braid that hung to his waist and boasted many bells which spoke of his achievement in battles. He was handsome and often the women, Dothraki and others alike, whispered of how they wanted him. Rakharo had never shown signs of interest in women, yet Daenerys had often wondered as he showed particular attention to kind-hearted Jhiqui.
"He is," Daenerys agreed with the Dothraki woman.
Irri was beautiful, almond shaped eyes and copper skin. Yet she was rather petite for a Dothraki woman, as she was much closer to Daenerys in height and stature than her fellow Dothraki women. Yet there was nothing that showed it bothered Irri as she was very popular with the men, those from the Dothraki and those who were not. There were even instances of her flirtations with Unsullied. Irri was yet to marry, there was no pressure yet she knew Dothraki custom was of brides to marry young – Daenerys had been a young bride when she married Drogo.
"Jhiqui is in love with him," Irri sighed heavily. "There is no chance for me."
Perhaps so as Rakharo did not amuse himself by pitting the two women against each other. Instead he made his intentions clear with Jhiqui. He even paused when she would enter the room, watching her closely – it was only a matter of time before he carried her into privacy. Daenerys gave her friend a sympathetic smile and Irri was soon distracted, attentions turning as another Dothraki woman began to converse with her. Daenerys watched the two of them as they walked away from her, heading to a crowd of females who were fighting amongst themselves.
Najaho let out a sudden cry and Daenerys touched his cheek lightly, rocking him. Soon he quietened and Daenerys watched as Rhaego lowered himself, sword gripped tight in his hand as his eyes narrowed on his father. The clashing of swords could be heard as Drogo launched himself at the boy, Daenerys squeezed her eyes tightly together and she sucked in a deep breath. There was always a pit of anxiety deep within her when her sons would train, losing either of them too quickly did not sit well with her. Rhaego would be a man soon, yet she still saw him as her little boy.
"Your Grace," she turned slowly at a voice that came from behind her. "A letter has arrived for you."
Missandei was one of her most trusted advisors, a slave girl that had been rescued and knew many languages. She was a strong woman, Daenerys much admired the girl who had been brutally raped from childhood up until her liberation. Missandei was beautiful too with kinky hair pulled back with a band around her hair, that fell just above her shoulders. Her skin was a warm light brown and her eyes dark brown, she received much attention from the Dothraki horde yet encouraged no attention. There was something between herself and Grey Worm, the Commander of the Unsullied, yet nothing could be between them.
Grey Worm had been raised as a soldier since he had been brought, castrated as a child and forced to fight. He was a strong man, one Daenerys admired as well. He was handsome with his brown skin and his hair cut close to his scalp. Grey Worm was serious, however, and a respected man Daenerys put her trust behind. He stood with her husband and children, watching them critically. He said nothing, gave no pointers but she knew he would have a list of ideas to give her husband when he was asked when the sparring was over.
"What does the letter say?" Daenerys asked her friend, yawning tiredly. She reached up to cover her mouth with a free hand.
"King Robb Stark is sailing toward Meereen as we speak," Missandei offered a shorter version of the letter. "To discuss the terms of the alliance."
"Is that all the news?" Daenerys turned her eyes to Missandei.
"He arrives with his sister," Missandei held up the letter. "It should be no longer than a week."
"Good," Daenerys breathed deeply. "I also wish to discuss the terms of an alliance." She turned to head inside, "Come."
The palace which was situated in the heart of Meereen was large witch many floors and chambers. Underneath was a home in which her dragons spent their time in, most of the time they could be seen flying around the skies. Daenerys patted her son's back as she made her way down the stairs toward the kitchens. Hungered, Daenerys decided to sit at the table with Missandei as company. Situating her son in her lap, she rocked him as his eyes darted around the room, watching with his fist in his mouth.
Off the kitchens was a small dining area Daenerys used with her friends and family often, it was not too large and the table was long but it was comfortable. There was an extra dining room further from the kitchens but it was much larger and Daenerys expected it had been used for parties. Daenerys had no reason to hold parties, she had no reason to invite the slave owners into her home unless she wanted them incinerated by her dragons. Najaho made a nose and she placed him on her lap, bouncing him on her leg.
"Your Grace," Missandei cleared her throat. "There is another letter."
"Another?" Daenerys turned to her, "Is it news of Westeros? I know Joffrey Baratheon has failed to produce an heir, I have three."
"It is not that, Your Grace," Missandei held the letter. "It is an alliance, an offer from Lord Tyrion Lannister of Casterly Rock."
"Lord Tyrion Lannister?" Daenerys's brows pulled together, "The Imp?"
"Yes, Your Grace," Missandei held the letter. "He vows to declare himself for you, to support your armies as you take back Westeros."
Daenerys pursed her lips, "Is that all?"
"He is married to Robb Stark's sister, Sansa," Missandei closed the letter. "You will have support from the Westerlands, the North and the Riverlands."
"Then we should accept," Daenerys held a spoon, lifting it up to feed her son easier. "It would make sense, no?"
"But we must be careful," Missandei urged her Queen. "You will face much opposition."
"I know," once Daenerys had foolish, girlish dreams that she and her brother would be welcomed back to Westeros. That was soon crushed after his death and when an assassin was sent for her, when one of her most trusted companions, Jorah Mormont, had only been sent to spy on her. Now she held the belief everyone was her enemy, especially those in Westeros. The monsters who sat on her thrown, they were her true enemy.
Cersei Lannister. Jaime Lannister. Joffrey. Tywin Lannister.
"Mama," she turned her head as Vorsakko entered the dining area with a grin on his face. His light brown torso was dirty with sand and a little bit of blood that had Daenerys's heart clenching, but there was a wide grin on his face and his hair was matted. "I did good," he grinned as he hurried toward her, tugging on her arm.
"Did you?" She asked with a smile, placing the spoon back in the bowl and reached out to brush the sand off his dirty cheek. "Has Father sent you inside to eat?"
"I must eat if I wish to be a big, strong warrior," Vorsakko took his seat beside his mother. "Missandei," he grinned at her, waving before turning to accept the food from the servants.
No sooner had Vorsakko arrived, Drogo and Rhaego walked in together. Out of all her sons she thought Rhaego looked most like his father. He was tall and broad for a boy of ten and one, with a solemn attitude and fierce in battle. He picked it up quickly, making his father proud. Drogo moved to the table, pressing a kiss to her forehead and sitting down beside Vorsakko who was already eating as quickly as possible. Rhaego stood back, chest also covered in dirt and blood. Instead of coming to the table however, he turned quickly and left the room.
Daenerys rose slowly from her seat, "Drogo." She passed off Najaho to her husband, "Is there something wrong with Rhaego?"
"No," Drogo appeared concerned, he touched the cheek of his young son in his lap. "He did well in training, he was not injured."
"I will check on him," Daenerys kissed her husband and her two sons.
"Check the dragons!" Vorsakko shouted after his mother, "Rhaego loves Drogon the most, Mama!"
Heading down the hundreds of steps to the bottom floor of the palace, Daenerys nodded at her guards as they opened the door for her. Just outside the room in which her dragons slept was an area of rest when they were not exploring. It was a large area, flat much like the training area floors above. It was there for her dragons to rest in the sun as they adored soaking up the rays, especially Drogon with his black scales. Running her fingers along the stone, Daenerys stepped out into the morning sun, feeling the rays warm up her pale skin.
Rhaego could be seen not far from her, standing with Drogon who had bowed his head to the Prince. Daenerys watched, basking in the sunlight as Rhaego pressed his forehead to the tip of Drogon's snout. His hand lazily scratched backward and forward, earning light rumbling from Drogon as he spoke in High Valyrian. Daenerys had never felt prouder as her son was gentle with the dragon, speaking in the tongue of his ancestors. Daenerys was glad Missandei was teaching her sons not only the Common Tongue by the tongue of Daenerys's people. She reached up, rubbing her heart as her other dragons landed beside Drogon.
Drogon moved, snapping at them as he wanted all of Rhaego's attention. "Rhaegal, Viserion," Daenerys commanded their attention and the two of them made their way to their Mother. "Good," she murmured, running her hands over their scales.
"Mother," Rhaego moved away from Drogon, the beast taking flight into the air. His wings had enough power to cause wind to blow around them, hair whipping around their faces. Not to be out done, Rhaegal and Viserion followed their brother into the air, calling for him.
"Is there a problem, Rhaego?" She reached out to touch her son's cheeks, moving his face from side to side. He was not injured so she began to dust off the sand.
"Our ancestors flew them, didn't they?" Rhaego asked as he looked up at the three dragons who circled overhead.
"They did," she answered, looking into her son's dark, purple eyes.
"Why did they stop?"
"After the Dance of Dragons many of the dragons were killed off or disappeared," she licked her dry lips. "After that there was no dragons to ride, they were destroyed. It is why my Father believed he went mad, I've been told. He lost his connection to the dragons."
"Will I ride one?" Rhaego asked her so suddenly that Daenerys stepped back in surprise.
"I…" Daenerys looked down at her son and then up at the dragons. She was able to ride Drogon but the idea of her son… she worried for him, "I suppose." She placed her hand on his shoulder, "Come inside, you must be hungry. We will eat and we will discuss this with your father," placing her hand on his shoulder she urged him back inside the palace.
"Father will say yes," Rhaego told his mother.
Back inside the dining room, Drogo looked up as his wife and eldest son entered the room. Rhaego took his seat beside his father, looking up as the servant placed his meal in front of him. Daenerys touched Vorsakko's head and he looked up at his mother with a toothy grin, dimples in his cheeks. Daenerys sighed, looking over the table at her family and felt relieved. Drogo still had a scar from where he had been attacked, Daenerys was glad she had not trusted the witch to save him. If she had, she could have lost her husband.
"I will take them training on a horse," Drogon said and Daenerys looked up.
"I will come with you," she smiled at her sons.
"But…" Missandei turned to her. "You have things you must do."
"Missandei," Daenerys smiled at the woman. "I think there is a day I can be with my family."
"Of course, Your Grace," Missandei rose to her feet. "I will attend to your duties and extend apologies."
"Thank you, Missandei," Daenerys smiled at her.
The family watched as Missandei dispersed from the room, turning to their meals. Daenerys ate slowly, nodding at the servants who removed Missandei's plates and bowls. Daenerys looked over at her husband who was feeding Najaho and them himself, the baby's mouth open wide whenever her husband would move food to his own mouth. Daenerys's heart swelled and she finished her own meal quickly, rising from the table and placing her hands on Vorsakko's shoulders, smoothing her hands along the smooth skin that belonged to her youngest son.
"We will all bathe," she said suddenly.
"Mama!" Vorsakko complained, kicking his legs.
Drogo frowned at his wife, "They will bathe only to dirty themselves again?"
"This is the argument we have had for a near week," she placed her hands on her hips. "They will bathe."
"You heard your Khaleesi," Drogo grunted and passed off Najaho to her. "You will bathe."
All the boys bathed communally with the men and her husband since they were training to be warriors. Najaho was large enough that Drogo took him to the communal bathing house with him, kissing his wife on the shoulder and Vorsakko hanging from his arm. Rhaego followed after him, mocking his father's stance as her four boys walked away from her. Daenerys turned and headed to the private bathing chambers she used for herself, and sometimes Drogo when he wished to join her. It was a luxury she allowed for, something from her life that she did not want to give up.
The bathing chambers were large and overlooked the city of Meereen. There was a deep pool on the floor filled to the brim with water near boiling, just the way she liked her baths. There were vines that twisted along the ceiling and down the columns that shaped windows, beautiful pink flowers bloomed against the dark green vines. The room smelt of lavender, a soft sweet smell that Daenerys adored. Letting the nightdress fall from her body, she made her way toward the pool of water and settled into the heat. Attendants appeared, coming out of the shadows with scents and soaps, prepared to help their Khaleesi.
"Khaleesi," one of the nervous servants who was a freed slave held out a salve. "Would you like me to wash your hair?"
"Please," Daenerys sunk lower into the pool of water.
"It is from the finest merchants in Lys," the servant explained as she massaged it into the hair of her Queen. "The Khal thought it an appropriate present."
"Of course he did," Daenerys smiled.
A door opened somewhere in the distance, Daenerys was much too relaxed as water was tipped over her head to let the salve fall from her hair. The water was the perfect temperature, there was nothing more relaxing to Daenerys Targaryen than a warm bath. The water stopped pouring over her head and a bowl clattered against the tiled floor, shattering. Violet eyes opened, Daenerys turned her head and looked. Her servant hurried to picked up the shattered pieces of the bowl and Daenerys was relieved when it was just her husband who walked to her naked.
"Drogo," Daenerys smiled at him as he sunk into the hot water.
"It is very hot," he hissed and moved toward his wife, scooping her into his lap.
"Yes," Daenerys ran her fingers over the top of the water. "You may excuse us," she spoke to the servants in the Common Tongue. "Will you let me wash your hair?" She asked and touched the rough locks that were pulled back into a braid, "Irri has taught me how to braid."
"Yes," Drogo cupped her cheek.
"Who have the boys been left with?"
"Missandei and the bloodriders," Drogo's thumb ran along her cheekbone slowly.
"My sun and stars," Daenerys breathed heavily.
"I wish for a daughter," Drogo told her and placed his hand to her abdomen.
Since their marriage Daenerys's body had changed. Her breasts were still small yet fuller, holding milk for their son and sagged further. Her stomach was rounder and had stretchmarks along it, but Drogo only found her body more endearing as his children came from it. He reached out, cupping the back of her neck and pressing their lips together. The two of them held a love for each other that could not be described, Daenerys wondered if her mother had ever felt such a thing for her father but knew it a lie. Was it what Rhaegar had felt for Lyanna Stark, was that why he caused the rebellion? If so, Daenerys knew it was worth it.
"You wish for a daughter," Daenerys smiled. "And what of a son?"
"I have three warriors," Drogo cleared his throat. "We should have a daughter."
"You must wait," Daenerys reached behind him, beginning to loosen his hair from the braid. Drogo's hair was impressive, falling to his thighs and fanning around them.
"Moon of my life," Drogo kissed her cheek. "You wish to head across the sea?"
"I want my home back," it was a discussion they had often. "I know you do not like the sea but it is my home."
"Then we will take it for you," Drogo vowed.
"Do you think we have time alone before someone comes looking for us?" She asked suddenly, running her fingers through his hair to loosen the tangles.
"Yes," Drogo pressed his lips to her own lips.
Laughter could be heard from the bathing chambers, servants and guards scurried away in embarrassment to give their Khal and Khaleesi privacy.