A/N: Sorry this part took so long, I ended up taking the description of Khal Drogo's injury from the book, not the wound from the show. (Hard work twisting a Daenerys chapter to Sansa.) Part of the dely was that some serious decisions about Sansa's plot needed to be made, please remember that this Sansa was raised by Illyrio.

Part 36:

Sansa swallowed back bile as she rode her horse through the fields of the dead and dying, she looked at the trampled, blood soaked, fields of lentils and rye, at the herds of murdered sheep, covered with black flies. Were the Dothraki really this stupid? Khal Drago had over forty thousand mouths to feed, they should have taken the herds, not slaughtered them, at the very least they should have been killed for eating, if they could keep goats for their milk and meat then why could they not see the value of the wool and meat that the sheep offered? Why could they not see the need for grain for the horses?

As if compelled by Sansa's thoughts a dying horse lifted its head and screamed at her, she clutched her reins tighter and rode past. Daenerys road at the front of the Khas, Sansa rode behind her, then the hand maidens, then the men came after, smiling and jesting amongst themselves. Jaqqa rhan, the mercy men, moved amongst the fallen with their heavy axes, but Sansa saw no mercy in lopping off the head of a dying man for a trophy. Behind the jaqqa rhan (and sometimes ahead of them) came young girls with baskets, many of them barefoot, they climbed over the dead and dying retrieving arrows. Sansa watched a girl that couldn't be older than six as she pulled an arrow out of a man that was still alive, ignoring his screams of pain, the jaqqa rhan had not gotten to this one yet, but the girl would not wait.

No wonder so many feared the Dothraki when boys of four had bows put in their hands and their sisters were sent to retrieve their arrows. The Dothraki were hardened to death, they did not fear or run from it, and they did not give compassion to those that fell.

It was Khal Ogo's men that had wasted their arrows on sheep, no wonder they had lost so easily when Khal Drogo's Khalasar had descended upon them, surely the Lhazareen must have seen Khal Drogo's men as their salvation... at first. But the Dothraki did not respect them, 'haesh rakhi' they called them, Lamb men. One of Sansa's tutors had taught her that the Lhazareen had been there long before the Dothraki crossed the great Bone Mountains, but the Lhazareen culture was one of peace, so the Dothraki would let them spread and then every now and then the Dothraki would rise a cull and drive them back, claiming some unimportant point as a boarder.

She'd had to bite the inside of her cheek to remain silent as Khal Drogo had told Daenerys that the Lhazareen belonged south of the river bend, any educated eye could see that this village had sat here for generations, yet the lie had placated Daenerys and that was enough. As Khal Drogo's gaze had met hers she had held it, she wanted him to know that Daenerys might be as easy as a child to placate, but she was not. Not that it mattered anyway, if Khal Drogo had not seized the opportunity Khal Ogo would have taken his pick of slaves and left the rest to starve. Once Khal Drogo's men had broken Khal Ogo's, stolen their herds, and put their women and children in ropes, they had turned their eyes to the town. Khal Drogo needed a lot of slaves to sell if he was going to get the Khalasar across the poisoned water and take vengeance on King Robert.

Sansa drew her eyes away from the black plumes of smoke that rolled off of the burning town and ran them across the slaves that she could see, the women and children of Ogo's Khalasar walked with a sullen pride, defeated and bound, yet they showed no fear, it reminded Sansa of the Dothraki slaves that Uncle Illyrio had allowed Jory to buy. Dothraki women were clever and cunning, they would do well for themselves, even as slaves… Jeshi had.

Sansa let her eyes drift to the girls collecting arrows and hardened her heart, they were barbarians, slavery was almost too good for them, they were less than cattle. She started trying to calculate the value of the slaves around her, she quickly realised that it was nowhere near enough. As they entered the town she watched one of Khal Drogo's men push a young woman over a pile of dead bodies and start raping her, Sansa's heart sank as she watched the girl decrease in value before her eyes. Virgins were worth the most, but you seldom got virgins from Dothraki slave pens, at least not ones old enough to fetch a good price. The courtesans of Braavos would take girls as young as eight, but not if there was a single scar or blemish on them, Dothraki girls were always damaged… worthless.

Sansa was drawn from her wandering thoughts by Daenerys suddenly bringing the Khas to a halt, she watched first in shock, and then in fear, as Daenerys started trying to claim the slave girl that was being raped. Did Daenerys not understand how the Khalasar worked at all?! The only way to control thousands of Dothraki Screamers was to facilitate their raping and pillaging, trying to stop it was suicide! Yet Daenerys tried to claim the women all the same. What Daenerys thought she was saving the girl from, Sansa didn't know, the damage was already done, you could see by the girl's eyes that she was broken now, the brothels was all she was good for.

Sansa watched sadly as Daenerys stopped again and again, claiming broken girl after broken girl, that was bad enough, but then Daenerys started talking with a Maegi, that would be the beginning of the end. Sansa needed a plan, a way to escape, but where would she go and how? Back to Uncle Illyrio? Even if she delivered all forty thousand of Drogo's Khalasar into slavery she doubted Uncle Illyrio would take her back now, she was damaged goods. Back to Westeros, to Winterfell? Ha, not likely, Winterfell wasn't home. No, she would need a new plan. Uncle Illyrio had taught her much about slave trading, he had even taken her with him sometimes, she knew some of the Good Masters of Astapor by name, and some of the Wise Masters of Yunkai… If she could just get a message to Grazdan mo Eraz… She could lead the entire Khalasar into a trap and sell them all into slavery. Surely that would give her enough money to start a new life?

Drogo was injured and Daenerys wanted the Maegi to treat his wounds, Sansa listened to the conversation without really hearing it, but suddenly Drogo was asking her what she thought he should do. "I am not a horse, it is not my place to tell a stallion what to do when he already knows his own mind." She replied slowly. "I am not a herb-woman, or a hairless-man, what do I know of healing? What I do know is that Dothraki and Maegi do not mix."

Drogo laughed. "See?" he said to his men. "See? My Khaleesi is made bold by my son riding within her… but the wolf-girl see's clear. Daenerys, you can keep the women, but I will wait until the healers have tended the worst of the wounded. This is but a scratch."

But it wasn't just a scratch, the arakh had cut shallow, but it had lifted a large section of flesh, including Drogo's nipple, leaving the raw muscle exposed, the risk of infection was high. As the hairless men finally came and looked at the wound Daenerys glared at Sansa for not supporting her.

~~/~~

Sansa carefully arranged the dragon eggs in Daenerys' tent while Irri and Jhiqui bathed her, Sansa had started to become the only person other than Daenerys that handled the dragon eggs, that was good. It was a week since Drogo had been injured and the wound was infected, his condition was clearly deteriorating, but Sansa didn't know what to do about it and Daenerys seemed oblivious.

Daenerys had taken to not eating with the Khalasar again, it was a bad choice, but Sansa no longer tried to argue it. When Daenerys ate Sansa declined the offer to join her, but she didn't join the feast either, instead she took her harp and went to play for the horses.

The sun had long set when she heard footsteps approaching. "Not eating again?" Drogo asked as he approached, a bowl of food in his hands.

"Hmm, you worry that I do not eat, but you do not see to your own injuries." Sansa replied. "Your wound is infected."

"It is just a scratch." Drogo replied, sitting on the grass beside her. "A flea bite, nothing more."

"It is not just a scratch," Sansa argued. "If you do not do something about it soon you will not be able to ride." She gestured to the thick grey mud the hairless men had packed over it. "That's only making it worse."

"I can ride!" Drogo snapped. "What would you have me do? Turn to the Maegi?!"

"No." Sansa replied calmly. "But wash the mud away, then let me have a look at it." She replied carefully.

"You are no herb woman." Drogo replied.

Sansa nodded. "True, and I would therefore not have the Khalasar see me tend your wound, but wash the mud away and come back so I can looked at it. Bring some clean cloth with you."

"And if I do this you will eat?" Drogo asked.

Sansa nodded. "Yes, I will eat."

Drogo left her alone then and she started to pick at the food, her bowl was empty when he returned. He sat down beside her and she rose to her knees to inspect the wound, it was red and swollen. She could see that it was weeping now that the mud was gone, the mud had stopped the wound from cleaning itself. She pushed at the swollen redness lightly with two fingers and watched as Drogo winced. "Give me your blade." She instructed. "We need to let the puss out." Drogo handed her his dagger wordlessly and she started to carefully poke at the wound, the clean cloth in her left hand.

As the tip of the dagger dug into the redness of his woollen flesh a spurt of puss escaped and she moved her head away just in time, Drogo winced, but did not ask her to stop. With careful fingers she worked as much of the puss out as she could, wiping it away with the cloth, but she couldn't get the right angle. She straddled Drogo's thigh so that she could access the wound better and she felt his large hands wrap around her thighs, but her attention was on the wound, eveny now and then his hands would clench around her legs, but she worked at the wound until no more puss came out, only blood.

"You need to rub salt into it." She said quietly.

"Salt will sting." Drogo countered.

"Yes." Sansa agreed. "But salt will also help fight the infection. Is the big brave Khal Drogo aftaid of a little pain?"

"I'm not afraid of anything." Drogo replied.

Sansa laughed. "Only a fool fears nothing, are you a fool Drogo? Do you not fear not being able to ride? Rub salt into the wound at least three times a day, keep cutting the swollen area open to remove the puss, and cover it with clean cloth to keep the horseflies away." She moved to get off of his thigh but his hands tightened around her legs. She looked up at him then and realised that there was desire in his eyes.

"When we get to the slave traders… a Dothraki cannot deal in coin… but you are not Dothraki." He said quietly.

"Do you want me to be your Slave Master?" Sansa asked carefully.

"Yes." Drogo replied. "I will give the slaves to you, and once you have traded them you can give me gifts in return, gifts of ships."

Sansa nodded, yes that would work, it would help set her up as a slave trader… perhaps… "Yes." She agreed. "If that is what you want."

Drogo pulled her more onto his lap, so that she was completely straddling him, his hands moved to her hips and he pulled her close enough that she could feel his desire. "That's not all I want." He said in a husky voice.

Sansa swallowed hard, she could feel her heart racing. "A Khal should take what he wants." She whispered in reply. For a heartbeat Drogo did not respond, but then his mouth was crashing down on hers, dominating her, devouring her, and he did exactly that.

~~/~~