Thoughts weighed heavily on the young woman's mind. How was she, a mere 19-year-old standing at only 5'2", one of the most feared woman this side of the Narrow Sea? She didn't want to be feared. She wanted to be loved – by her brother, by the people, by her khalasar…by her sun and her stars; her beloved Drogo.
Turning over in her bed, Daenerys Targaryen let out an audible sigh. This was not the life she had imagined. Her brother, Viserys, was the one that wanted to reclaim the Iron Throne, not her. She just wanted to go home. Only, where was home? She was a bastard without a country, driven out by the usurper Robert Baratheon during the slaughter of her family.
Looking out at the rooftops of Meereen, Dany thought back to where her home could be. When she was younger, she used to believe that her home was somewhere in Westeros – though she wasn't sure where. She never felt apart of Westeros. At one point in time, Dany believed her home was the island of Dragonstone. It was the ancestral home of the Targaryens, and where she was born. Her mother had still been heavy with Daenerys in her belly when she escaped with Viserys after King Robert put himself on the Iron Throne. Her mother died giving birth to Dany in that place.
Viserys tried to convince Dany that their home was in Kings Landing. Dany was sure if they ever made it there that he would have spent most of his time parading her around at court like she was a slave on sale at auction. He had filled her head with so many stories about the Red Keep, that she often wondered how he could remember what it looked like seeing as he was so young when they fled. There was no doubt in her mind that he would have tried to use her to gain every favor with every lord and nobleman in all of Kings Landing. The thought made her shutter.
Would she really be connected to Kings Landing? That was where her father had ruled. So much blood had been spilled there. So many people changed allegiances, like the ebbing of the tide. Not knowing who to trust, who was on your side? Plus she had heard they kept the remains of the dragons of the Kings of Old within the Red Keep. What kind of horrible place was that? She would probably be as much a stranger there as she would be on the Wall.
The more she thought about it, the more she knew that her only home was with Drogo. Khal Drogo. How she missed her Drogo. He had been her everything.
She was been totally against it when Viserys had Magister Illyrio arrange the marriage. She only dared to say something one time to her brother and the look in his eyes was enough for her to never utter any other words about the match again. Viserys had beat her before, but she had never angered him enough to 'wake the dragon' which he always threatened to do. She did not really know what that meant, nor did she want to find out.
Being the dutiful sister, Dany prepared to marry a complete and total stranger. Not only did she not know this man who was almost 10 years her senior, but they were from two different worlds. They did not speak the same language or share the same customs. She literally did not have any idea what or how to do as a married woman, let alone as a wife of a Khal.
The day Daenerys first saw Drogo, she was petrified. She could not will her feet to move toward him as she stood on the balcony for his inspection. She was just a girl. She had just barely had her blood for a full lunar season, and she was expected to have sex with this man. And that's what he was – a man. Khal Drogo was a huge man, full of muscles and stood at a full 6'4" tall. His hair was the deepest shade of black she had ever seen and hung in a long ponytail that landed on his horse when he sat astride it.
They were each other's polar opposite. He had the most exotic toffee-colored skin and chocolate eyes, compared to Dany's boring pale skin, towhead and blue eyes. Where he was tall and hard, she was short and soft. He was dark and brooding, she was pale and childlike. She could see callouses on his hands as he gripped the reins of his horse. Her hands were as smooth as silk reminding her that she had never done a day's labor in her life. He smelled like sweat, oil, and sand. She smelled like rose water. He spoke in a guttural language that she did not understand. She spoke the common tongue and Old Valyrian, which to him sounded like gibberish. There were no two things that they had in common.
She had no mother or sister to explain to her what was supposed to happen on her wedding night. Only a brother who told her to make sure she pleased him. And that advice was only because Viserys wanted, no needed something from her betrothed. Daenerys didn't even know the first things about the Dothraki, except they were violent, nomadic horse lords who probably mounted their women like a steed mounted a mare.
She knew nothing about the man she was to marry and even less than that about sex. And when he took her, she had been afraid and cried. She cried for weeks after that night – every time he took her. She knew people found it pleasurable. The Dothraki were not shy about sex, they had it out in the open for the entire horde to see. She didn't know what she was doing and couldn't communicate with her husband to ask him to show her. She longed for the passion that the bards and poets spoke of, so she sought the help of her slave. She learned to talk to her husband, and how to love him.
Drogo and Dany worked. Somehow, they fit together like hand and glove. Drogo became the air that Daenerys breathed. He taught her love and confidence in herself that she did not know she possessed. She taught him patience and that a Khal did not always have to be ruthless during the quiet times between a husband and wife. There's was a match brought together by the old gods and the new.
And Rhaego…her sweet Rhaego. He was promised to be the Stallion Who Mounts the World, if only he had lived. The thought of the son that she and Drogo created was a memory that was too hard for her to bear. She lost her son and her husband in rapid succession. She went from being a wife and a mother for all of those months to being this...
Losing her two great loves had changed her. She went into the flames as Daenerys Targaryen and came out Daenerys Stormborn – The Mother of Dragons. Rhaegal, Viserion, and Drogon were now her children – her young dragons were so much like children. She cared for them and protected them, and in return they loved her. Her three sons were going to avenge their family name in Westeros.
The Lannister family did not deserve her father's throne and she would reclaim it for her husband and son.
Now she was here. A Khaleesi, with her own khalasar, an army of Unsullied soldiers and the Second Sons at her command. Not to mention, she had the entire country of Meereen to liberate from slavers. No wonder she was having trouble sleeping. If only Drogo were here to put his strong arms around her and pull her into his embrace. She would easily be able to drift off into a deep slumber. He would help her strategize of a plan to free the slaves, help the merchants, and punish the masters. Then maybe she could concentrate on a way to recruit more soldiers for her army and plan how to get their horde across the Narrow Sea.
"This is impossible," Dany huffed, sitting up to lift the pitcher of cool water next to her bed. She filled an empty goblet, sat down the pitcher and placed the glass to her lips. Breathing in deeply, she closed her eyes and said a silent prayer that the water had not been poisoned before she took a large gulp. "I am no war strategist."
Looking over to her left at her bed, she turned up her lip and shook her head. Daario meant well, but he was not what she needed. He wasn't Drogo. He did not even come close. Why was she allowing him to take company in her bed? She barely enjoyed his company during the waking hours, let alone at night. This had to stop. Loneliness was no cause for desperation.
Carefully, she swung her feet over the side of the bed and place them into waiting slippers. She stood, grabbing the pale blue silk robe from the edge of the bed. She slipped the fabric over her arms, transporting the goblet from one hand to the other, as not to spill the liquid inside. She continued to drink, as she made her way out of her bed-chamber. The nights in Meereen were far cooler than the days, but still warm enough to coat the body in a fine sheen of sweat.
As Dany walked the dimly lit hallways, she pondered where to go. She could see who was in the council room, and perhaps talk strategy on how to get the slavers of Yunkai back under control. Or perhaps they could switch tactics and talk about how to secure enough boats to get her entire army across the Narrow Sea. Perhaps, since the night was so nice, she would take a walk to the clearing and visit with her dragons.
She continued to walk down the hall until she heard voices and the soft flutter of laughter. The light lilt made her stop and smile. As quickly as the laughing started it stopped. Dany slowly rounded the corner and tried to stop the corners of her mouth from turning up into a smile.
Grey Worm stood at attention, arching his back and holding his head at attention, "My Queen."
"Torgo Nudho," Dany nodded at Grey Worm, "Missandei." She turned and looked at her most trusted advisor, then back to Grey Worm. "If you will excuse me for a moment, I need to discuss some things with Missandei," she noticed the lightning-quick flicker of disappointment that flashed across Grey Worm's face and how it disappeared almost as quickly as it came.
Clenching his jaws, he bowed to Daenerys, before stealing a look at Missandei and exiting the room.
A huge smile split Dany's face in two. Grabbing the darker woman by the arm, she ushered Missandei over to the window bench aligned with soft pillows and sat her down beside her. "So…tell me. Are there new developments between you and Grey Worm?" Dany held her goblet in both hands and guided it to her lips. She kept her eyes eagerly trained on her friend.
Missandei was thoughtful in her answer, but as usual, kept her face very natural and her voice calm, "No developments as of yet. But, I have noticed the way he watches me. It is no longer like is protecting me. There is another look in his gaze, now." Playing with the hem of her gown, she furrowed her brows. "I am starting to feel differently toward him. But, I don't know that I should. I don't know that I can…that he can…if we could ever…"
Dany put her hand on her friend's arm to quiet her questions, "In this uncertain time, I know one thing to be true. We all must find love when and where we can. We don't know if tomorrow is promised to us. Stop worrying about if you or he or you both can, whatever. Think about what you can do, and what you enjoy doing, together." She let her gaze go to the other side of the room, "While we are in Meereen, we have it easy. When we cross the Narrow Sea, things will change. Steal away as much time with him as you can. These times may not be afforded to you, later."
"Is that what you are doing with Daario?" Missandei looked at her lap, then up at Dany's face, afraid she had overstepped her bounds. "I mean no harm, but I do not understand why you share your bed with him. You barely tolerate him."
Dany let out a hearty laugh, "I know!" She sat her goblet on the floor beside her and took Missandei's hand in hers. "I grow bored here. I can listen to the quarrels of farmers all day and think of how to get to Kings Landing. The truth is being here," she motioned around the room, "bores me. We are building a great army that grows stronger by the day. My dragons are growing big and strong. Soon, there will be nothing standing in the way of me taking back the Iron Throne. I have the army to do it, but not the plan. That's why I spend time with Daario. I keep hoping one day something brilliant will come out of his pretty mouth, but nothing ever does."
"What about Ser Jorah? He must have a plan." Missandei chimed in.
"Nothing that will not cause me to lose more than half of the Dothraki, Unsullied and Second Sons. I am not prepared to sacrifice them." Dany stood up and walked over to the large table, picking up one of the war pieces on the map and turned it over in her hand. "I need a tactician. Someone to beat them at their own game. When our army comes, we will give them a fight like they have never seen before." Turning back to her friend, she smiled softly, "So I say again, go, find your man. Enjoy him now. Soon, we will rain fire upon Westeros."