Chapter Seven

A/N: Thank you to tammgrogan and Anarra for reviewing.

Daenerys seated herself amidst the newly scattered curtains once again, sighing with regret as well as with the heat of the desert in which they still remained. She had just sent off three of the most important men in the khalasar, her bloodriders, to scour the land ahead, searching for any sign of civilisation in the distance. It had been an awful risk, as this now left only Ser Jorah Mormont as a truly skilled fighter. If they were attacked, or if the riders should die, then the khalasar would be left near defenceless. She was gambling with her life now, along with her daughter's and that of the rest of the khalasar, but if it was a choice between being attacked and killed or starving to death, she would rather take that risk. After all, they were Dothraki, they were warriors, and if they were destined to die, they would rather do so in battle.

The sound of parting fabric alerted her to the fact that someone had entered her tent, and she did not need to turn her head to know that the figure in the doorway was her trusted knight. No one else would approach her, bar her handmaidens, and she could still hear their laughter from a little way away from the tent, where they were taking the young princess for some air, something that Daenerys could not do so soon after the birth, though she desperately wanted to.

"Ser Jorah." she greeted, finally turning her head to see the man. However, what she had not anticipated was the wide smile that adorned the man's features. She had not seen him smile in such a way for a long while, as the Red Waste had taken most of the joy out of the whole khalasar. It must have been something truly wonderful to return a smile to his face. "You have news?"

"Aye, I do, Khaleesi." he responded, his joyful expression still knowing no bounds. "Your bloodriders have returned. Aggo and Kovarro had no luck, but Rakharo has found an abandoned city only five miles from here. If we begin to move soon, we will reach it by sundown."

"Is there anything in this city at all? Food, water, shelter?" she asked her advisor, inclining her head and smiling in thanks at the doorway as Irri entered the tent, replacing the khalakki in her makeshift bassinet, before curtseying and leaving again.

"Aye. There's a large well with clean water, and a few trees bearing figs and grapefruit. The shelter is sparse; the city must have been pillaged at some point, and there's been a great deal of damage." he told her. His smile faltered a little when he explained the negatives of the idea, but picked up again when he saw her own smile appear.

"It is better than we could have hoped for, Ser Jorah." she told him, a slight touch of reprimanding in her voice. "Tell Rakharo he has served me well, and prepare the khalasar to head north east. We will begin our journey as soon as we are able to do so."

Bowing his head, Ser Jorah left the tent, setting out to find and congratulate the queen's bloodriders on their work, and to spread the word throughout the khalasar. They would need to know as soon as possible if they were to leave at any point soon, as the majority of them were either too elderly to move quickly, or too young to carry any real weight.

Once he had gone, Daenerys stood, crossing the tent to the wooden box filled with swaddling clothes, in which the princess of the Seven Kingdoms lay. 'It is quite ironic, I suppose.' she thought with a smile, as she pulled the child into her arms. 'The children of Robert Baratheon live in the lap of luxury, with servants and courtiers to attend to their every need, while the true princess of Westeros lies in a wooden box in the midst of the Red Waste, surrounded by a small group of children and elders. Not for long, though. I hope that, soon, she will lie instead in the Red Keep, and will be awarded the respect that she deserves.'

She gazed down into the face of her young daughter, stroking her tiny cheek with one fingertip. She had so much of her father in her. No one else could seem to see it in the khalasar, not even Ser Jorah, but Daenerys could see past her Targaryen features to the almond shaped eyes and slightly tanned skin that the babe had inherited from her late father. She would grow to be a powerful woman, there was no doubt of this in her mind, with the strength of the Dothraki warriors in her limbs and the blood of fire running through her veins. 'I hope that she will never have to use those qualities during wartime, but I expect that she will have to fight alongside the rest of us in the end.' she thought with a frown.

She had never wanted for her child to have to fight for her birthright, to be put into such danger at such a young age. True, she had anticipated a fight to achieve the Iron Throne for Rhaego, but that dream had died with her son; she had given no thought to it before she had had Vorsannys, and much afterwards. And in any case, that had been during a time when she had had Drogo, the Khal of Khals, by her side, the time before she had been another penniless widow wandering through the deserts of the East. But now she had started a war, and she would have to see it through, without her husband and son, though with her babe, her daughter, by her side.

There had been many occasions in recent times when Daenerys had thought of giving up the fight, of disregarding her rights to the Iron Throne and allowing the Baratheon rule to continue as it had done for over two decades. But now she held in her arms the rightful Princess of Dragonstone, the heir to the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. And she was worth fighting for.

A/N: Please review!