Chapter Two
'Jorah?' Harry asked softly, the man who was to be his teacher, and the only link to his old world looking up from his breakfast to smile at him. 'Last night the Khal did not...I mean I was...I thought...'
'The Dothraki do not rape, whatever rumours there are about us, our violent nature, our viciousness, our love for battle, that is not true. The Khal will not force you Khaleesi, the...consummation will wait until you are willing,' Jorah explained though not without a gentleness in his voice.
'And if I am never willing?' Harry asked nervously, glancing to where his husband was seated, talking with who Jorah had informed him was his Kos, or lieutenants.
'You are not the first arranged marriage Khaleesi, you will get used to your situation and become comfortable. The Dothraki before they agree to an arranged marriage travel to Vaes Dothrak, our...holy city you would say, and there they consult the wise women, the Dosh Khaleen, widows of Khal's, as to the future their marriage may hold. From there they make a choice whether to accept or not. Whatever Khal Drogo was told of your future he was happy to marry. Do not turn your thoughts away from the possibility of a happy marriage because of the circumstances of the start of it. It is not unheard of of those of an arranged marriage forming a good friendship, even love,' Jorah smiled understandingly.
Harry frowned in thought as he looked down at the bowl of a sort of porridge he had been given for breakfast. How was he supposed to fall in love with the man who had bought him?!
'The Khalasar is riding this afternoon, Khal Drogo does not trust the old wizard he wants to put some distance between us today. Before that though we will start with the basics of Dothraki, and can carry on while we are riding. Until you get used to long days of riding you will be glad of the distraction Khaleesi,' Jorah smiled gaining back Harry's attention, eager at the thought of starting straight away in understanding the people he was now a part of.
Just before Harry was about to get back onto his horse, murmuring over the few words that Jorah had taught him already, when he found his hands gripped tightly, spinning around he blinked at his husband as he automatically jerked back into his horse at finding the man towering over him.
Drogo murmured something to him, removing his grip from one hand. Harry watched confused as Drogo took a strip of cloth from his pocket and started wrapping it around Harry's palm, tying it off before repeating the process with the other hand. When he was done he frowned and ran his fingers over Harry's fingers.
'The Khal says that your hands are more used to work than he expected Khaleesi,' Jorah translated. Harry looked up to find Drogo frowning a little down at his hands, his fingers still brushing over Harry's.
'I'm no stranger to work, no,' Harry shook his head.
'The old wizard, he said that you were a great noble Lord of your people, that you had lived an entitled life,' Jorah translated for Drogo once again.
'Dumbledore is very good at bending the truth. I am...important at hom...I am important, but I am nothing more than a pawn, I am no stranger to work,' Harry snorted.
'Khal Drogo says we are to get ready to leave now,' Jorah smiled at Harry as Drogo stalked off to his own horse, though Harry did catch a glimpse of the sword he had gifted him strapped to his back.
'So the Khalasar travel all the time?' Harry asked Jorah as they took a break from their language lessons when Harry started becoming frustrated.
'Yes, the longest the Khalasar will stay somewhere is Vaes Dothrak, a few times a year we head back towards there, to trade with other Khalasars, to learn of any new dangers to the people, to consult with the Dosh Khaleen. Bu aside from that we wander around, the Dothraki believe that by travelling the land they soak up the natural magic and gifts of the lands,' Jorah told Harry.
'Dosh Khaleen? The Wise Women?' Harry frowned at the familiar term.
'Very good Khalessi. Yes they go to see them to see if they have any words for them,' Jorah smiled.
'Words for them?' Harry frowned.
'The Doth Khaleen have visions, they see things,' Jorah explained.
'Prophecies?!' Harry grimaced turning his head away.
'Khaleesi?' Jorah asked concerned seeing the look that flashed across Harry's face.
'My entire life, until my marriage yesterday has been decided by a prophecy. I have little reason to like them. My parents were murdered for one, and I have been sold for one,' Harry smiled bitterly.
'Forgive me Khaleesi, but I have found that those who do not follow the Old magic's often struggle with the words that magic send us. Misunderstanding a prophecy is a common thing among your people,' Jorah was frowning a little himself. 'Come we must ride a little faster, the Khal needs to hear this, Dumbledore did not inform him that you had a prophecy to your name,'
Harry thought to argue or question Jorah, but seeing how concerned he was he just did as Jorah instructed, nudging his horse into a faster trot. He frowned when he realised that three of those who had been travelling behind them also sped up.
'The Old Magic's, as in the Old Religion?' Harry asked Jorah as they made their way passed the people who had been travelling between them and the Khal.
'You know of the Old Religion? Dumbledore did not tell the Khal that,' Jorah said.
'Dumbledore did not know, if he found out that I followed the Old Ways then I would have had a much more difficult life,' Harry explained. At this point the Khal heard their approach and turned to bark a question at Jorah who responded quickly and in rapid Dothraki. The Khal and those around him frowned and looked to Harry who shrank a little into his saddle at the attention.
'The Khal asks what the words of your Prophecy are Khaleesi,' Jorah turned back to Harry. Harry had had it drummed into his head not to tell anyone the words of his prophecy, that his life relied on it. But his life also now relied upon these people, his husband, and from what little Jorah had said it already sounded like they had more skill in Prophecy than British wizards and witches had.
'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches
Born to those who have thrice defied him
Born as the Seventh month dies,
and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal
But he will have the power the Dark Lord knows not
And either must die at the hand of the other
For neither can live while the other survives
The One with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies,' Harry recited the words that he knew by heart. Jorah dutifully translated for the Khal who frowned and muttered to the others.
'The Khal asks how they know that this prophecy belongs to you?' Jorah asked.
'It's pretty unspecific, the main problem is that Voldemort and Dumbledore both believe that it is me. There was a second boy that could have matched up with the words, but Voldemort thought that it was me and attacked my family. The line of being marked as his equal they both believe come from my scar after the Avada Kedavra curse rebounded when he cast it on me,'
Harry gasped when Drogo suddenly reached out and snatched Harry's reigns, tugging his horse alongside own mighty black horse and reached out to run his thumb over the lightning bolt scar on his forehead. Harry blinked and tried to jerk away but Drogo's large hand cupped the back of his head and kept him still as he muttered in much the same tone as he had the night before when they had lay down together.
'He asks if it hurts Khaleesi,' Jorah said reminding Harry that the others were there and pulling him out of the black stare of the Khal.
'No...well...not all the time. If I'm near Voldemort or if he is upset or very angry. Touching it doesn't hurt,' Harry tried to explain. He looked questioningly to Jorah when Drogo spat something out looking furious.
'The Khal is a possessive man, he is not happy that this Dark Lord has the ability to harm you, or that this bond between your minds exists,' Jorah explained.
'What is going on?' Harry asked as a rider shot through the crowd to the Khal, his eyes lowered as he held out a cage to the Khal containing what looked like a Hawk.
'The Khal is writing to the Dosh Khaleen to request their sight and wisdom look towards this matter. As I said, the understanding of Prophecy is very weak with British Wizards,' Jorah said before answering something the Khal said. 'We are to ride beside him for the rest of the day,'
Harry nodded and settled into riding, trying to ignore the pain that was starting to go through his body at the constant riding. Jorah did not seem inclined to carry on their lessons as it appeared Drogo preferred to ride in silence. Harry took the time instead to take in the scenery as they rode.
It was a desert, but at the same time it was completely beautiful. The smell of the desert was warm and dry with a slight musty and salty hint. It was hot, very very hot, but not unbearably so, though the robes that Dumbledore had sent with him did make him wish that he had little more skin revealed to the air. The endless sand and blue skies made Harry feel amazingly small and at peace, the rhythmic sounds of the Khalasar behind them moving through the desert, the horse noises, the people talking and laughing, children laughing and playing.
'Khaleesi? Are you ok?' Jorah asked making harry realise that he had closed his eyes.
'It is very peaceful,' Harry sighed.
'Peaceful?' Jorah said bemused glancing back slightly to the horde following them.
'Yes, sounds of home and of life, of families. It's a warm, peaceful noise,' Harry tried to explain.
'There is something about riding with the Khalasar,' Jorah nodded.
'Your accent sounds almost British, if you don't mind me asking, how did you come to be here?' Harry asked uncertainly.
'You are my Khaleesi, anything you want to know I will tell you. You have the right to demand any information that you want to know, you husband has the greatest of the Khalasar, you are the Khaleesi, you need to get used to your position,' Jorah advised. 'As for myself, I am from Britain. I was sent out to Sudan to discuss the trade of information with the Dothraki for anything I could entice them to be interested in. In was pretty much a hopeless quest from the start, the Dothraki have no need for anything that they do not find in the desert, that they do not carry with them or can summon with their magic, what they get in tribute from cities and towns that are travelled passed,'
'Tribute?' Harry asked.
'The Dothraki are a warrior people Khalessi, when you see the Khalasar approaching you pay tribute to them,' Jorah smiled amused.
'Oh,' Harry frowned slightly at the thought.
'Yes. So my trying to negotiate getting valuable information from them in return for something, anything, was not going to work. I did however spend two years travelling with three Khalasars trying to negotiate, year and a half of that was with Khal Drogo. I fell in love with the Dothraki way of life though, their connection with magic, the simplicity of the way of life with the Khalasar, the connection the people have to each other. When my time came to return to Britain I came to Khal Drogo and made the request to stay. Khal Drogo allowed me to do so and gave me the position of negotiator for the Khalasar whenever we come across those that speak any of the languages that I speak,'
'How long have you been travelling with...my...my husband?' Harry tested the term out loud for the first time.
'It will be eight years this year,' Jorah smiled in understanding. Harry nodded before turning back to face forwards and taking in the desert, trying to avoid looking to the intimidating figure of his husband riding almost right beside him, and failing, Khal Drogo demanded to be looked at, his frame and size pulling attention to him. His magic practically rolled around him like a palpable auror, his physical strength rolling through him with every movement.
Harry was not prepared for the way his legs gave out from underneath him in a flare of agony when he made to climb off of his horse. A strong arm wrapped around his waist and he was tugged back against a strong chest.
'Irri! Jhiqui!' Drogo shouted into the Khalasar that were coming to a halt, the tents being put up rapidly with magic forming a small town of tents in next to no time. People moving with practised ease around each other to get the area ready for them to stop and prepare for the night. Fires sprung to life, food was passed around to be cooked.
Two young women around Harry's age raced forwards and knelt down in front of them. Harry looked between them and Drogo in confusion as Drogo barked something at them, and then he said something to Jorah motioning to the tent Harry recognised as the one he had slept in the night before, the Khal's tent.
'Khal Drogo says that you have ridden well today. Irri and Jhiqui are to be your hand maidens, they will look after your needs and such while we are in camp and on the road. They speak a fair amount of British so they will be able to help with you learning the language as well. You are to go into your tent now and ease yourself from some of the pains of travel,'
'Handmaidens, I have no need of handmaidens,' Harry hissed quietly.
'Khaleesi,' Drogo growled out to Harry before huffing and saying something to Jorah.
'The Khal says that you are the Khaleesi, you need to get used to being his consort. A Khaleesi has handmaidens, they will help you, accept their care.' Harry looked up into Drogo's eyes and found the Khal already looking down at him. His face was as expressionless as it ever seemed to be, set in a stern look giving nothing away and looking terrifying. At odds with the man who stopped him from embarrassing himself by falling flat on his face in front of the Khalasar, and who gave him two more people that spoke his language. Bowing his head to the Khal the two women stood and reached forwards to help him to the tent as his legs shook.
'It helps with...pain Khaleesi,' Irri explained as she rubbed the salve into Harry's legs.
'Riding will get better Khaleesi, you...will get ed to it,' Jhiqui smiled as she wrapped his hands. They both spoke English as Jorah had said, though it was naturally much more broken than his.
They looked up when the tent flap was pulled back and a young man stepped inside.
'This is Rakharo Khaleesi, he is to be your main Dothrakhqoyi, the Khal also sends you a gift,' Jorah said as he walked into the tent behind Rakharo.
'Dothrakh...qoyi..Blood Riders? The ones that have pledged in blood to their Khal?' Harry dragged the word from him memory.
'You will learn fast Khaleesi. Correct. The Khal has put Rakharo in charge of your guard Khaleesi. He is young and his braid shorter than that of the other Dothrakhqoyi, however he is a favourite of the Khal, and has not lost a battle,' Jorah smiled.
'Qoy Qoyi,' Rakharo bowed his head to Harry.
'It means blood of my blood, it is an address of the Dothrahqoyi and their Khal and Khaleesi,'
'Qoy Qoyi,' Harry said to Rakharo getting a smile and another bow from the man. 'What has the Khal sent me?' Harry asked.
'Clothes Khaleesi. Dothraki clothes for the feast tonight, there is a feast tonight, another celebration of your wedding. He has had these clothes made for you,' Jorah motioned Rakharo forwards, the warrior handing the bundle to Irri.
'I'll wear them,' Harry nodded.
'Irri and Jhaqo are going to wash your skin with milk, water is precious around here and baths are rarer than you are used to around here. The milk will also protect your skin from the sun and heat you are not used to,' Jorah explained.
'Jorah. You have mentioned a few times today that Dumbledore did not tell you things about me,' Harry said stopping the man from leaving the tent.
'Yes Khaleesi,' Jorah nodded.
'From what I have gathered the Dothraki rely as much on their reputation as their impressive skills in battle,' Harry smiled when Jorah blinked shocked at him. 'Oh I have no doubt that the Dothraki are as terrifying and powerful as the stories tell of them, however why fight when your reputation can do half the work for you. I only want to know, did Dumbledore know and believe the rumours of rape that surround the Dothraki,'
'You want to know Khaleesi if Dumbledore...' Jorah stopped looking torn.
'I want to know if Dumbledore believed he was selling me to be married and raped for however many soldiers he and the Khal have agreed upon,' Harry clarified.
'I...yes Khaleesi, he did,' Jorah said softly. Harry however just smiled sadly.
'I thought so. Thank you for your honesty, and for your help today. I will get ready now,' Harry turned back to his handmaidens.
'Khaleesi,' Jorah bowed before leaving the tent to go and speak to his Khal. It seemed that their Khaleesi was much more to the eye than first appeared.
The Dothraki clothes felt a little odd to Harry, and a lot more revealing than he was used to, however he had to admit as he sat on the cushioned seat with Irri, Jhiqui, Rakharo and Jorah he also felt as though he fitted in a lot more as well. The shirt he had been given was of leather, sleeveless and three quarter length, leather trousers in the same brown leather as most of the other fabrics that were owned by the Dothraki. His boots were of soft leather.
To his left the Khal and three of his Ko sat on their own seats, talking and drinking. Music was playing and beating through the tent, an impressive fire was in the centre of the tent keeping away the chill of the evening of the desert. Women were dancing around the fire with men, men were twisting together in a dance that looked as much fight as love, women spun together in vicious circles. Harry could feel the beat in his chest, the beat through his veins, and he could feel his magic twisting and rising, it was only a trickle o that he could feel pouring out of those around him and it steady to twine around his husband's before washing out around the camp and into the wards that protected these people. His people.
'Khaleesi?' Jorah's voice gained Harry's attention back.
'I'm sorry I was just thinking,' Harry smiled.
'I...you have no need to apologise to me Khaleesi,' Jorah blinked. 'The Khal wants to speak to us,'
'Oh right,' Harry glanced to where the Khal was now watching them closely. Harry stood along with Jorah and Rakharo but Harry smiled and shook his head. 'I'm going to the Khal, I don't need protection over there, stay here and enjoy the celebrations a little,' Harry told Rakharo.
'He asks if you are sure Khaleesi,' Jorah translated.
'I am sure, I will be in sight Rakharo,' Harry chuckled.
'Thank...You...Khaleesi...' Rakharo said in broken English. Harry smiled wider and touched his fingers to Rakharo's shoulder before he turned and made his way over to the Khal. Drogo took his hand and tugged him down beside him, tucking him against his side and barking something to Jorah who seated himself to the side of them.
Harry sat tensely beside Drogo unsure of what the Khal wanted from him, especially when he made no move to do or say anything, instead turning his eyes back to the celebration in front of them. However as the minute wore on Harry found himself relaxing against the larger body beside his, the tug and pull of his magic with his Husband's even more soothing being closer to him.
He started slightly when Drogo's thumb rubbed over Harry's wrist where he was still holding it. Harry pressed a little closer to Drogo as the warmth and magic sank into him as well as the tiredness of not only today but the entire week of building up to this.
'Jorah...' Drogo called the man's attention before speaking.
'The Khal wants to know what your relationship with Dumbledore is Khaleesi,'
Harry tensed up immediately again at the question raising a concerned look from Jorah and a tightening of Drogo's arm around him and an even deeper scowl.
'What does he want to know of our relationship?' Harry closed his eyes before opening them to look into the fire.
'He wants to know what your relation or relationship he is to you,' Jorah translated.
'He is my...was my jailor, from when I was one,' Harry said quietly. Drogo's reaction was not what he was expecting, his magic snapped around them like a whip, separating from Harry's in its calming trickle to the wards fast enough that Harry winced at the sudden feeling of cold he was left with. A murmur went over the tent and everyone stilled for a second but a barked command had the music starting again.
Harry glanced to the side and waved his hand to Rakharo who was standing and getting ready to make his way over to them. The Khal gripped the bonding bracelet on his wrist and gained back his attention, saying something sharply.
'The Khal wants to know if you were willing in this arrangement,' Jorah asked, a tightness covering his own face.
'I was aware of what I was agreeing to,' Harry said slowly. The barked out, impatient response to Jorah's translation told Harry that his husband was not pleased with the answer.
'Did you have the choice to say no?'
'I had the choice. But Dumbledore is very good at posing questions in such a way to get the answer that he wants,' Harry sighed.
'What did he say to you Khaleesi?'
'He told me that if I did not marry the Khal and gain his alliance, then likely Voldemort would kill the people that I care about, that I have left. That by doing this I would be saving many lives,' Harry had tried not to think back onto that conversation, where he had essentially been told he would be marrying a stranger who did not even speak the same language as him.
'The Khal says that you are his consort, that you are the Khaleesi of his Khalasar, the greatest that roams these lands, and no one is your jailor anymore. You have demands he will give them to you, you want the stars he will collect every one, you wish to see cities burn, he will light the flame, you want to hold the flames from the sun in your hands, then he will bring it to you and ensure you do not burn,' Jorah translated the words, but the venom and strength with which Drogo spoke them lit something in Harry that he had long thought had died, and even though he could not understand what Drogo was saying, his honestly was plain to see. Ignoring the cheer and chanting that went through the tent at their Khal's words to their Khaleesi, which no one could have missed, Harry met the Khal's eyes.
'Why?'
'Why? Khaleesi,' Jorah and Drogo both frowned.
'No one has wanted to give me anything without requesting something in return. Why?' Harry asked.
'My...Khaleesi,' Drogo's accent was thick and cumbersome, but Harry found himself looking down at them. Drogo's hand raised his chin and he met his husband's fierce eyes, finally he nodded his understanding and allowed himself to be settled back against Drogo's side.
'Jorah, go and enjoy the celebration, you have plenty of months of translating ahead of you before I learn Dothraki,' Harry instructed after a few moments of silence between them.
'Khaleesi...' Jorah hesitated.
'Go, have some fun. If we are in desperate need on translation I will call you back over,' Harry chuckled. Jorah murmured quickly t Drogo, no doubt telling him of Harry's order before stepping back and bowing. Then he disappeared into the crowd.
Harry was unsure of how long they sat watching, there was something amazing about the sight and the way the people felt and used their magic in the celebration, all of the emotions going into securing the wards. He could feel the magic being summoned from the earth and dancing freely and contentedly among the people here, sing and stroking along the wards. And once Drogo had calmed down sufficiently it wrapped around Harry's magic once more and led it to the wards. Harry did not know if this was intentional or their bond acting, but he rested against Drogo and soaked up the beginnings of his new life.
That evening the same ritual as the night before was followed. Drogo undressed himself and then Harry, baring them both naked to the air before laying Harry down onto the furs and arranging him to his liking on his side. This time Harry was a little less frightened when Drogo shuffled onto the furs behind him, pressing against him chest to ankles before tugging the furs over them. But he did not fully relax until Drogo's Dothraki murmuring had quieted and the hand stroking his chest fell still to the furs.
Closing his eyes he wondered what would happen if he allowed himself to believe Drogo's words, that he would do all that for him, simply because he was his Consort.
Harry found his hands captured and bound again by Drogo before he mount his horse the next morning, this time with not only Jorah beside him but Rakharo, Irri and Jhiqui. His handmaidens both grinned while Rakharo stood straighter and bowed his head to his Khal when he said something to him.
And then they were riding again.
Rakharo rode beside them watching with interest as Jorah carried on his lessons in Dothraki, and while Irri and Jhiqui had both been hesitant about joining in, not wanting to correct their Khaleesi, when they realised that he wanted their input and help they were soon helping Jorah explain different words and sounds to him.
The miles swept by without him realising as he tried to ensure the different words and sounds were sinking in, repeating words and sentences over and over. They took a break finally to eat their lunch as they rode, Harry trying to hide a wince as the sight of more horse meat, though Jorah apparently caught him for he was assured of the fact that he would get used to it, chuckling at Harry's disbelieving expression before he bit into the meat when a concerned Irri asked if it was ok.
Before Harry knew it over a month had passed with them travelling, he was making progress with his lessons, he was a better horse rider and was finally hurting much less at the end of a long day in the saddle, his hands had stopped cutting from holding the reigns where even his daily hand binding could not protect them, and his skin had tanned a light golden in the sun.
Riding with the Khalasar was quite a routine thing. They would wake in the mornings and Drogo would leave to get his breakfast and supervise the start of packing up the camp, Jhiqui and Irri would then come into his tent with his breakfast and to help him start getting ready for the day. He had started taking down their tent himself when he realised that each family took down their own tent and someone was having to come and do theirs as well each day. This had gained him a few shocked looks but he had insisted and no one wanted to argue with him.
Rakharo would have their horses ready and waiting and Jorah would join them just as they reached them, Harry would then wait for Drogo to come by on his way to the head of the Khalasar and he would have his hands bound by his husband - the one day he had done it himself Drogo had glowered at him and stripped the bindings off before redoing them with new leather, muttering under his breath before stomping off. Harry had not needed Jorah's offer for a translation, realising that he was not going to do it himself again.
Their lessons would begin in the language, and then move onto the history and culture of the Dothraki people as they rode, breaking only for lunch as they rode. Rakharo would join in the stories, adding ones that he remembered from childhood which one of the girls or Jorah would translate for Harry.
Once Drogo decided on a spot for the night the tent city would go up and the elders would set the wards rapidly. Irri and Jhiqui helped Harry clean himself and change before they went to the tent that seemed to hold the people of highest importance in the Khalasar. Jhiqui had admitted that she had not even been near the tent before she had been made Harry's handmaiden, picked for her knowledge of his language. There there would be music and dancing, eating and laughter, chatter and company. Nothing as grand as the first night but still impressive. Harry would sometimes spend the whole evening sitting with the girls, Jorah and Rakharo, sometimes he could convince one of them to have an evening off, Rakharo had been very proud the evening Harry had convinced the girls to take the evening off and Jorah to go and deal with an issue the Khal needed him for. Other nights Harry would be tugged down immediately beside the Khal, other nights Drogo would request him over after a while.
Eventually they would leave the tent together and make their way to what Harry was beginning to think of as their home, his mountain of a husband walking beside him. There he would strip them both down before arranging Harry to his liking and snuggling up behind him. Harry had lost the fear that Drogo was going to do something he did not wish weeks ago, and now he was rapidly fall asleep to the murmurings of the Khal and the surprisingly gentle hand brushing his chest.
The first time that he had seen the Dothraki attacking had been an experience, to be honest he had been slightly terrified. They had come across a town that was apparently selling slaves, something that Drogo despised. They had hit the town in breath taking speed, the camp had been set up right outside the town invisible to the eyes of the town. And then Drogo had led the charge against the town. They had swept through the town like a wave, those that had been involved in the slave business had been killed or taken prisoner, the town itself was half destroyed, and Harry was allowed to see where his new people got their reputation from.
Harry had to admit that he had been slightly terrified at witnessing the viciousness of his people, and their blood thirstiness of their culture. Even Jorah got swept up into it, and Harry had been left feeling a little stunned and a little sick as the Dothraki celebrated late into the night and into the morning.
And that was the first night that he had not gone to sleep next to his husband since their marriage. He had managed to sneak out of the tent without anyone realising, he had slipped into the centre of the Dothraki camp, everyone so distracted with their celebration that he had been able to pass through unseen.
Spending the evening thinking about what he had seen and witnessed, what he knew of the Dothraki people and what he had learnt about his new people and his husband. He thought to the people that he had seen joining their camp, the slaves that his husband had freed and he wondered about what sort of life they would have lived had the Dothraki not come across the camp, he wondered how many people had been hurt by the people that now lay dead, he wondered what happened with the people's lives that they had already ruined.
He finally dragged himself back to his tent in the early hours of the morning his mind still trying to settle on the fact that the Dothraki had saved a lot of people, and stopped some truly terrible people from harming anyone else, but should they really have been killed?
Harry gasped in shock when he walked into the tent and found himself grabbed and slammed into one of the support poles of the tent Drogo shouting furiously at him. Harry shrank back against the pole as he took in the fury on Drogo's faces as he shouted at him, too fast for Harry to even be able to pick up the words or phrases that he had learnt.
His fear was stilled in his throat when he looked back up at Drogo and caught a flash of something that caught him by surprise. Drogo had always looked so scary, stern and dangerous expressions always crossing his face except for the times that Harry had woken up before him. But this time Harry caught a flash of something in his eyes, worry.
Biting his lip Harry worried over what he should do before he summoned up his courage and reached out to up Drogo's ace, the action clearly shocking enough that his husband stopped shouting and just blinked down at him.
*Me...ok,* Harry said slowly and hesitantly in Dothraki. Drogo blinked down at him a second longer before the corners of his lips turned up enough that Harry was fairly sure that it was a smile.
The resulting talk he received went completely over his head in terms of actually understanding what he was saying, the tone however was very clearly scolding as Harry found his husband's hands running over his arms, hands, face and chest in a way Harry understood he was checking to make sure that Harry hadn't been hurt.
That was the first night that Harry ad reached out and undone Drogo's belt and trousers, tugging off his boots and easing his feet out the clothing when his husband sat down on the edge of their bed, Drogo's eyes had been intently on him the entire time, Harry being able to feel it, not even having to look up. When he stood, unsure what to do now when faced with the impressively naked form of the Khal, the man he was married to, after taking the initiative for the first time. However the Khal was already moving, reaching forwards so his hands gently cupped Harry's hips and tugged him closer to him so that he was standing between his large legs. Harry's breath caught when while keeping eye contact Drogo leant forwards to brush his lips over Harry's exposed stomach softly as he reached around to undo the ties of Harry's shirt.
Harry slipped the shirt off of his arms, watching as Drogo undid the ties of his trousers. Those large hands were gentle as they slid his trousers down, purposefully brushing them over his skin from hip to feet.
Harry managed to summon back his courage, probably the tiredness and confusion from the day doing enough to help cloud the worry and fear that would normally stop him. He pressed his hands to Drogo's broad, tanned shoulders and pushed him back. The Khal went willingly, his dark eyes intently upon Harry as he shuffled back into the furs watching as Harry crawled with him until he was settled back against the pillows. Once they were there Harry eased him back onto the furs and curled up on top of his husband's firm chest. Drogo didn't move for a few seconds as Harry rested his head over his husband's heart and rested his arm over his chest, before he moved to wrap his arms firmly around Harry, holding him closely and then started running his fingers through Harry's hair.
It was different. Startlingly different. Even though for nearly four months they had been lying naked together in a bed that they shared, in a tent that they shared, it did not feel as intimate as when Harry had actually been part in them ending up like this, and lying on top of Drogo instead of being moved onto his side with Drogo pressing himself behind him.
And as Harry fell asleep swiftly, in what he was shocked to realise was the safety of his husband's arms, even though he had watched these very arms break the neck of a man early today, to the soothing sweep of roughly calloused fingers up and down Harry's bare back Harry unconsciously pressed a kiss over the heart thumping rhythmically under his ear. Drogo's arms tightened around him before gentling and going back to his stroking as Harry nodded off.
