AN: once again, obligatory thanks.

Daenerys XI

The first thing Dany noticed as she began to stir awake groggily was her burning throat. It hurt terribly and she felt desperately thirsty. Her vision was blurry and she found it difficult to adjust to the flickering lights of numerous torches and what little sunlight was allowed inside wherever she was – if there was any sunlight at all. Her skin felt as if a million needles were piercing her.

Upon hearing several footsteps approaching her, she scrambled up but was forced back onto her hands and knees to dry-heave when a bout of vertigo hit her with a sudden force. Dany groaned pitifully when she rolled onto her back, cold sweat breaking out and drenching her forehead. Her sweat-ridden hair clung to her face and a sudden shiver fell over her.

"Drink."

Memories came rushing back at her – the wine stand, the wine seller, the poison, Ser Jorah and how she hoped that he was alright, her dear bear – and in that moment of fear and panic, she flailed with her hands, hitting the cup or bowl or whatever it was and sending it flying. She heard it break somewhere and was about to relax, for just a moment, when her head jerked painfully to the side when a fierce backhanded slap connected with her cheek. Tears immediately welled in her eyes at the stinging pain and the ringing in her head, making her blurry, swimming vision even worse. She tasted blood and the corner of her lip stung as well.

"We need you awake and coherent. Drink."

She heard someone filling something again, and again it was thrust in front of her mouth. This time, however, there was someone behind her, forcing her to sit upright and securing her hands. She struggled, but oily, soft and sweet-smelling fingers were pinching her nose, forcing her to gasp for breath. Immediately, a sour-tasting liquid filled her mouth, making her cough and sputter.

Dany was then released and she fell onto her back once again.

Slowly her vertigo began to subside and her vision started to clear further, blurry silhouettes of a rather numerous group of people appearing in front of her and gaining in sharpness by the moment. The agonizing burning in her throat did not stop, however. She had a feeling that she would have to live with that for a while.

"W-who are you?" she rasped, startling herself with her scratchy and hoarse voice.

One man, tall, thin, bald and with a smoothly shaved face, spoke up. "I am merchant prince Nakaquo Irninar and I wish for you to hatch dragon eggs I have procured from Old Valyria over the past years."

Daenerys squinted her eyes a bit, her vision still swimming a bit, shifting between clear and hazy. She could identify a few magisters and merchant princes she remembered from the banquet months ago and her eyes widened slightly upon recognizing the smiling face from Magister Tychor. Ice-cold fury settled inside of her and, for the first time since burning the assassin alive, did she allow herself to succumb to that desire. She would burn each and all of these men alive and no one would stop her from this. These greedy, fat slavers, these men building their riches upon the backs of the poor and helpless, on the chained – these men thought themselves worthy to have dragons of their own? She would give them dragonfire for it was the only thing related to dragons they deserved.

"Show me the eggs, then," Dany said in her scratchy voice as she gingerly sat up. She took a moment to mentally go through any suspicious pains and sores she may feel but was glad when she came up empty. A woman in the presence of men like these could never be careful enough.

Excited chatter broke out among the nobles and merchants present. She waited quietly for a while until one of them returned with a small crate half-filled with dragon eggs. Her eyes widened considerably at the sight. There had to be at least five of them inside! And each was claiming their own unique shade of colour. She had to wonder just how many men these magisters and merchant princes had sent to their deaths in search of these eggs.

Dany crouched on dirtied knees in front of the crate and reached into it, taking two eggs out to study them intently. One was a deep crimson with pale yellow streaks and the other a beautiful rich white, deep emerald colourings decorating it. They were a magnificent sight to behold.

However, she did not feel the same sensation, the same pull as she had with her own three dragon eggs. By no means was she an expert when it came to dragons. All she did was go with her gut, do what she thought was right and useful training for her children. With these eggs, all she could do was also to trust her gut and her gut was saying that she could not bring these dragons back. These eggs could be quickened neither by hand nor by magic. They were dead.

"Very well," she said, placing the lifeless eggs back into the crate and standing up, swaying slightly. Dany reached a hand out to steady herself on a pillar, trying to calm her racing heart, the rapid pounding loud in her ears. She closed her eyes and took several calming breaths, slowly opening them again. "These eggs are stone but I can sense life in them as I did in the eggs I have hatched before."

The men applauded and cheered, the sight bringing grim satisfaction to spread through her being.

"What do you need?" Nakaquo asked her eagerly, his wide grin bearing yellowing teeth.

"Sacrifices. I hatched my dragon eggs with magic and I gave three deaths to breathe life into the eggs. Three deaths quickened them. These eggs," she went on, indicating the crate in front of her, "are all stone, but a flicker of life remains. They need more."

Now the nervous murmur began, even indignant shouting.

"How do we know that wench is not lying through her teeth?!" a fat magister wanted to know, his belly wobbling with his movements. He had oiled, black hair and a twirled, equally black moustachio.

"You do not," Dany replied with a shrug. "I simply am telling you how I paid for my dragons' lives. I paid for them with the lives of my brother, a little girl very dear to me and the assassin responsible for that girl's death." Her voice wavered but remained hoarse still. "My brother, I killed myself when he tried to murder me. The assassin, I burnt alive in the pyre I had built for the girl he killed." If I look back I am lost. She then gave them a steely look. "The price to hatch these dragon eggs is high. One death pays for one egg's life."

"Then the price is too high!" one of the other magisters insisted, agreeing with his black-haired colleague.

Nakaquo did not agree, however. "No price is too high to own and control dragons. The more dragons exist, the faster magic's potency increases."

He turned around, grabbed one of the magisters by his finery and pulled him in an impressive show of strength forward. Nakaquo began to chant, his eyes focused on the petrified man, bald with a full, red beard, short and wide – not fat as many of the others, however – but the other merchant princes and magisters rushed forward to aid their brethren, grabbing Nakaquo and pulling him away, subduing him.

"Stop being foolish!" Nakaquo yelled, struggling to break free. "What is the life of one of you for dragons?!"

"And who are you to make that call, hm?" one of them demanded. "Just who are you, Nakaquo, to judge over our deaths and lives? Why shouldn't you be one of the sacrifices?"

"Because I am a sorcerer, you simpleton!" he roared, still unable to remove himself from the heavy grasps he found himself in.

The magister Nakaquo had wanted to sacrifice first quickly scrambled onto his legs and pulled a dagger from his sash, charged Nakaquo with a yell and stabbed him in his stomach repeatedly. The stunned look on his face was almost comical, even with the blood seeping between his lips, even with his white finery drenched in a deep red.

"Your sorcery did not help you here, did it?" he growled with unbridled fury before grabbing the dying man by his collar and tossing him in front of her.

Nakaquo slammed face-first onto the ground but no sound or movement was coming from him. His very shallow breathing was the only indicator of him being alive but even that was on the brink of stopping. He was as good as dead.

"Here you have your sacrifice," the magister ground out between his teeth. "Hatch a dragon and show us that you speak the truth."

"That sounds sensible," Daenerys said calmly, doing her best to appear as neutral as possible and to not let her satisfaction show. "I do need a ritual pyre, however. If you could procure me wood and oil."

"Someone fetch one of the Unsullied and send them to collect wood," the murderous magister, now apparently taking the lead, ordered the others present.

One of them wasted no time doing so and quickly left the building for the moment.

Silence followed, only broken by the odd chatter between the slave owners present. So, she took the moment to sit down again, a sigh escaping her. Her body was tired still and she had to take every moment she could to rest.

"For how long have I been here?" she asked, raising her head to look at the new leader.

"Six hours, perhaps?" he answered smoothly.

"My husband and niece will be looking for me by now then." She smiled when thinking of them.

"I am sure they are, but, as sorry as I am, they will have to be patient for a while longer."

She cocked a brow. "You do intend to return me to my family then, once you have your dragons?"

"We are no savages. Of course, we will." He smiled at her.

It didn't reach his eyes; his dark, cold, small, beady eyes. She knew they intended for her to die here. They would be clever to do so. Aegon and Rhaenys were fiercely protective of her – they didn't need to be, for she could take care of herself well enough, but she appreciated it all the same, of course – and neither her husband nor her niece would let this ever rest. She would neither.

Abducting her in the open and displaying such blatant disrespect to the blood of the dragon, forcing her to hatch dragons and hand over the hatchling to them like slaves? A dragon was not a slave! They should have thought a lot more about this whole plot of theirs before they acted.

Then she heard them. It was still so very distant, but she heard the cries, the woeful cries of her children calling out for her.

I am here, she thought desperately, hoping to somehow, wondrously reach her dragons. I am here, my children. Please come and burn them. Burn them all.

Nervous muttering started to break out all around her and further increased in volume with each passing second. Daenerys just sat, smiled and waited.

The red-bearded magister glared at her, his expression a mixture of fury and panic. "Why are your beasts free?! What are they doing outside?!"

"My children were never chained, to begin with. They are proud, they are strong, they are intelligent. They are no slaves to be chained and used and abused at one's whim." She looked past him, raising her gaze higher and higher until she saw a row of small windows. Perfect. She hoped the scent of blood was strong enough – or her children's sense of scent. "I do not know, however, why they are roaming the skies," she continued. "I was here, helpless, poisoned and weak. You were all witness to it."

His beady eyes still flashed angrily at her and, for a moment, she held fear that he would charge at her as he did the sorcerer, but he turned away. Dany allowed herself to relax and wait. She trusted her children would come. They always came to her for comfort and love and now they would protect her with the merciless fury only dragons possessed.

Their high-pitched roars echoed again, sounding closer and louder than they had before. In return, the slave owners showed even more fear. It was thick in the air.

"They are small still. What harm could they do?" Dany asked them with an odd sense of calm.

She had a chance to survive, they did not. Whether she lived or died, she knew that one way or another, these men would be beheaded by her husband's blade or burnt by dragonfire. Mayhap it was this knowledge, this surety that gave her peace. Whatever was going to happen to her, they would still die regardless.

"Do not try to trick us, Beggar-Queen," Tychor spoke for the first time since she had awoken and Daenerys relished in the fearful anger tainting his usually smooth confidence. "Your dragons have grown rather well, even in the confinement of my home. I know very well the harm they can do. I see them every day."

And as if to prove him right, her children suddenly crashed through the windows, scattering glass everywhere and shrieking in fury. The men scrambled and ran for the door in panic, but she just watched. Dany just sat on the ground and watched as her dragons swooped into the large building and rained fire from above. Arrax's narrow stream tinged with black, Jadewing's with sparks of green and Sundancer's with pale gold veins. The more they grew, the more they became their own dragons.

Their fire did not wash over the slavers in a wave of destruction, they were much too small for that still, but the ones they caught in their dragonfire they set ablaze instantly. Shrill screams of pure agony filled the building while crates and sacks began to catch fire as well, the burning men stumbling and colliding into them amidst their desperate struggles to flee. She had no idea in the slightest what it was in this building her children were unleashing their flames upon and she did not care.

The air was filled with the smell of burnt human flesh, of hair, of smoke and ash. But it was also filled with the scent of spices and oils, of wood and other things she could not quite put a finger on.

The overwhelming stench of it all started to make her feel lightheaded.

Daenerys slowly stood up and carefully walked past the burning men and wood and fabrics and everything else. Some of the merchant princes and magisters had made it out in time, but she'd find them. She wouldn't leave this city until every single one of them was dead.

She swayed a little upon stepping out of the storehouse, the bright light of the sun giving her another bout of vertigo, but it was not as bad as what she had experienced before. A few burning and screaming magisters made it past her outside but quickly succumbed to the dragonfire, dropping dead out in the open. Her children flew out of the burning building soon after and landed at her sides, nuzzling against her legs. She scratched their long necks and chins, the heat they still emanated from their snouts making her skin tender and painful, but she did not care. She looked around, the common folk usually littering the streets fleeing the scene, running from her and her dragons. Dany wished they did not fear her, but she could not hold it against them. Stepping out of a burning building, unharmed, petting dragons while magisters and merchant princes were burning alive all around her – it must be a terrifying sight to witness.

It was what it was, but she wanted to return home now. She wanted to find her Aegon and her Rhaenys.

The problem was that she was not familiar with this area. When she and Viserys had stayed with Tychor as children, they had never strayed too far away from the manse. And even now she had never explored the city beyond the Red Temple. The few short months had simply not been enough to memorize every nook and cranny of this vast and complex city. She knew one specific path, leading from the manse to the plaza and, from there, to the Red Temple. Beyond that, she was not familiar with Qohor and its streets.

"Where am I supposed to go, Arrax?" she asked her black dragon, earning herself a chirp from him. She sighed and looked to her left, then to her right. "I'll just take the right, I suppose. I'll find my way back somehow."

Dany began to walk at a measured pace, slowly and gingerly. Her body still felt tired and weak, her skin still felt like it was covered by pinpricks. But she forced herself to move, to keep going, to keep moving. Arrax, Jadewing and Sundancer trailed after her, folding their wing joints and leaning heavily on their claws as front legs. It reminded her of a procession of ducklings following a mother duck.

Chuckling, she glanced back at her children behind. "Come now. Fly. It is safer for you up there in the sky."

The dragons each gave her curious looks, chirping again, cocking their heads. It was almost comical how innocent an appearance they could take after burning many men alive just moments ago. So youthful still.

"I found her!"

Her head whipped around with a fearful gasp and she saw a black-cloaked man with pale features and a smoothly shaven face pointing at her. A small group of Unsullied with him were immediately marching for her, shields and spears at the ready.

"Sōvegon!" she cried, frantically urging her children up into the sky. "Sōvegon! Sōvegon! Up in the sky with you! Go! Go!"

Dany couldn't say if her dragons actually understood her, if they knew what she wanted from them at that moment or if they simply sensed the danger themselves, but she almost sobbed in relief when they took flight, screeching in alarm.

"Do not cut her! Her blood belongs to the Black Goat!"

She was startled for a moment. They wanted to sacrifice her?! "Dracarys! Zālagon! Perzys!"

Her hope that Jadewing and Sundancer would listen to her was proven to be justified when they joined Arrax in a low swoop, narrowly dodging spears and shields and bathing the Unsullied and cloaked men in dragonfire. More heavy footsteps approached her from behind and she quickly turned around and scrambled backwards when more men in black and Unsullied closed in on her.

A gust of wind from the dragons' beat of their wings whipped past her before she had to protect her face from the heat of their flames. It was unnerving that, even in agony, the Unsullied did not scream and succumbed in silence. The same could not be said for the cloaked men, all three of her children tearing into a screaming one with teeth and claws, ripping him to shreds and littering his limbs and insides across the street.

Dany looked around herself in a moment of fear and dread, her hands folded over her heart, but she saw no innocents amidst the dead she could identify. She hoped beyond hope that the others were only the city guards, magisters, merchant princes and the cloaked men who wanted to sacrifice her to their goat god.

The ugly sounds of crunching bones and tearing flesh made her stomach churn and she turned to see her dragons happily feasting on the charred remains of the man they had just torn apart.

She'd rather they not eat people. They would have to teach them that at a later point, but for now, she decided to turn a blind eye to that. They had saved and protected her and had used more fire than ever before. It was most likely that they were hungry.

A thunder of rapidly galloping hoofbeats suddenly struck the air and filled Dany with renewed despair. At least a dozen or so horses, by the noise of it, were drawing near to her position, and she could hardly outrun them in her weak condition. How many more were to come after her? All she wanted was to go home, to have her niece and nephew to hold her, to make her feel safe and loved. She was tired and sore all over.

But a sob of relief escaped her when the horses and riders turned around the corner and finally came into view. Ser Barristan, blood splattered across his tunic and accompanied by none other than the massive and hulking figure of Commander Pahryl, dismounted from his horseback and hurriedly approached her, utter relief palpable on his aged face upon finding her unharmed .

She was finally safe.