Dothrakii Sea
Five days. Jorah waited five very long days for his Queen to awake with no such luck. His patience is running thin with this woman, this stranger, who claims that she can heal Daenerys. With two days of no sleep, his mind is slowly running wild: what if it's the same sickness as the one with Khal Drogo? What is this woman actually doing to his Queen? And how long? How long must he wait for her to awaken?
"Ser Jorah, do stop tapping your chair. You're being distracting."
"I'll stop when she's awake, Lady Miko."
"Prince," she snaps at him. "Even those horsemen know to properly call me."
Those damned bloodriders, Jorah thinks. How in the Seven hells did you get them on your side? With his tired mind, he can't properly recall the details of the past few days, but he remembers clearly the important parts. It was on the first day, when his Queen was pulled out of the fires, that this fraud prince offered her help. He wasn't sure what she said back then, but it led to her being confined in one of the tents and him asking Daenerys' handmaidens for help.
That didn't work out. His Queen stayed asleep and the stranger won Aggo over to her side. Or was it Jhogo? No matter for it was through one of the bloodriders that she offered her help again. And, in a shameful act that he will forever regret, he relented and allowed her to do the healing.
Jorah had no doubts that she was extorting them: she demanded tools of silver and gold, all of their herbs and spices, and forced everyone present to sing praises about her during the healing. Though they complied, it was not without disagreements and disdain. It was near bloody when she suggested that no one be present in the tent with her for the healing. Jorah had drawn his sword, fearing that it'll be just like the maegi's trickery that caused the death of Daenerys' unborn child.
It was then he saw the influence she had over the bloodriders. Though Rakharo joined his side, Jhogo and Aggo did not. They drew their arakhs against him, telling him that the fraud prince had "good intentions." It was only after a couple of tense exchanges and veiled threats that she allowed him to be in the tent.
And the healing. That gods-damned sorcery... He remembers that first night so clearly. There were no candles alight in the tent and his queen laid naked on the bed, having been cleaned by Doreah and Irri. The people outside were singing halfheartedly, full of empty praises. But when the sun had dipped below the sea of grass, the lights began. Golden orbs spinning in and out of the tents, lighting up all of them in a vibrant glow. The herbs burned and the spices singed while the stranger had gone to work on his Queen. Needles of golds and silver, salves of mints and grass, and other foul-smelling stuff... He didn't sleep that night, his mind far too dazzled by what he just witnessed.
It continued for three nights, culminating to now. By then, the cheers outside the tent were no longer lined with jeers but instead true praises. He saw people pray around the campfire in her name and those two bloodriders accompany her wherever she goes. And yet, after all of that ludicrous display, his Queen remains asleep. What did she say yesterday? That this is a process and not immediate? What farce! No, she's simply doing this to win these people over.
But what can he do about it? If he steps out of the tent and declare her a traitor, how many would go against him? It would be less than half of them, that he's sure of, yet it'll split Daenerys' followers even worse than the death of Drogo did. But that's not the worst of it; the dragons are with her. The pride and symbol of House Targaryen, the last-living remnants of Valyrian legacy, all of it entwined between the arms and neck of the fraud prince. Hatched from the eggs his Queen cared for and cradled like her own child, and now they cling to this stranger. Whenever he gets too close, they hiss and spit fire at him. She even had the gall to give them strange names: Tojiko for the gold-and-green, Futo for the milky-white, and Saki for the black-and-red.
During his one day of sleep, though he's not sure what day it was, he dreamt of those dragons. But they were grown, larger than houses and towering over the black plains. They tore into him, and a demon clad in black-and-white laughed at his suffering. If I don't get them back to my Queen, it'll be the end of all of us. The terror they'll bring will be unlike anything the world had ever seen.
"Prince Miko," he forces himself to say her ridiculous title.
"Ho ho, finally you're addressing me with my rightful title! Took you long enough," she chuckles, swinging her cape around and revealing the dragons perched on her. "Do you have any questions to ask of your Divine Prince?"
Divine Prince... Daenerys is the promised one, not this fraud. "When will the Queen awake, Prince Miko? You promised that she'll be awake within the week, yet I see no improvements in her condition."
"No improvements," she scoffs. "Are you blind to her healing? Her breathing is finer, she skin is not as pale, but most importantly," she takes off her strange head-wear from one ear, "she is dreaming, Ser Jorah. And when someone dreams, that means they're alive and well. She's no longer afflicted with your so-called sleeping sickness, that I can guarantee."
"Yet she still sleeps."
"Then let her sleep," Miko smiles. "She'll wake up when her dreams are finished; no later, no less. Do put your faith in me for once, Ser Jorah. Your desire to kill me is just annoying."
"Kill you? Why would I be-"
"Three days ago, when you agreed to let me help you heal this little girl, your desire to thrust that sword into my throat was quite overwhelming. Greater than your desire to heal her, even. When these lovely little babies," she caresses the milky dragon on her shoulder, "hissed at you two days ago, you desired to separate my head from my body. And just now, sitting there tapping away on the chair, you desired to overthrow me. Even through this earmuff your desire is as loud as a trumpet! Do try to keep it together."
"And what does it matter to you how I conduct myself?" And how in the Seven hells did you know all of that!? Have my expressions been getting the better of me?
"Because I'm a prince and I'm well versed in the court of royalty and politics," Miko replies, putting a cape-covered hand to her mouth. "As she is still unconscious, I shall take over the role as this encampment's leader, placing you well below me, Ser Jorah. And as my subordinate, it matters to me greatly how you behave yourself; even I have limits to my patience."
"I'm no subordinate to you, wench!"
"Wench? Never heard that insul-"
"Shut it!" Jorah shouts at her. "I'm a knight of her majesty's Queensguard and I shall not have that title be sullied by your insults!"
"Oh, I'm not insulting the Queensguard, Ser Jorah. Just you. However," she sighs, "if you are so adamant at proving your worth, why not tell me then what you plan to do after your Queen wakes up? What will be the next steps forward?"
It's hard for him to think clearly as his need to rest is weighing heavily on his mind. However, his need to put down this woman is even greater than that. "First," he begins, "I'll inform her of the events that occurred over the past week. As my Queen, she must understand of the situation at hand to make the right decision."
"Good, what's next?"
"Next... Next is we need to move. We are running out of supplies fast and there is nothing here in the Dothrakii Sea. Only grass and more grass. We may not return to Vaes Dothrak for we are no longer welcome. No point in heading West towards the Lhazareen for they have been pillaged and destroyed, and neither Slaver's Bay for they have the remaining khals. If we go too Eastern, we risk meeting with the other khals and cause conflict. The only way out is through the Red Waste, and by gods do I fear that choice." As much experience he had with the Dothrakii, they never once travelled into the depths of the Red Waste. There's barely anything there, yet it may perhaps be their only chance.
"So you have thought of this thoroughly then. What a fine knight, you are."
"Of course! A Queensguard is more than just a knight, Prince Miko. He's both a protector and advisor to the Queen. And I have my training as a Lord and a knight to aid her grace."
"Good to see that she has capable help," Miko says condescendingly. Jorah's eye twitches at the comment. "However, I'm not just asking about the course for your people. No, I'm asking about you specifically, Ser Jorah. What will you do after she wakes?"
Jorah leans forward, his eyes turning cold. The golden lights from the stranger dims considerably. "What are you insinuating?"
"Well, as I'm taking the position of leadership for the time being, it's important for me to test your loyalties to this girl, your Queen. I've examined Jhogo and Aggo and they seem to be very loyal to Daenerys. The same could be said to her lovely handmaidens as well."
So she seduced them, is that it? She slept around like a whore to win those bloodriders over. Should've known that those men are after the pleasures of the flesh. But how about those handmaids? "And what do you see in me, Prince Miko? That I am distrustful of you?"
"Yes, but there is something more a well," she strokes the dragon sleeping between her styled hair. "I seem to recall a certain thing when we first met. You had such a strong, yet conflicting, desire to leave this place. Why is that?"
"Why? Why!? It's because I thought Daenerys was fucking dead, you wench! You dare to accuse me of betrayal? When you had shown me that she's alive, I wept. I wept for her, knowing that she still has a chance to live a fulfilling life, whether that by becoming Queen or not. How does my love for my Queen betray her trust!?"
She simply stares back at him, smiling. "I must commend you, Ser Jorah, for I hear no hint of desire of betrayal coming from you. Not anymore, that is. However, I do hear a much stronger and somewhat distressing desire emanating deep withing your heart. You said you love your Queen, is that correct?"
"No Queensguard does not love their Queen."
"Yes yes, that is true. I know that well enough from the others. But the one you harbour deep within the recesses of your mind, it's something more than just reverence and loyalty, isn't it?" The woman takes a step closer to him, smirking. "No, what you hold within is lust. A desire to take this little girl as yours, your own Queen. Why, it is the most-"
*SMACK*
Jorah can feel the back of his hand sting from the hit, as if hitting a stone wall. Miko's face is frozen in shock as the dragons awake and spit fire at Jorah, who keeps a well distance away. He can feel his fury building. "You... You accuse me of lust? Of wanting to defile my Queen!? You dare! You dare to accuse me of filth!"
"It is your own filth, Ser Jorah. Your own knightly filth," the woman says, rubbing her cheek that was hit. "Your own wicked desires have brought it forth. But do not worry, knight," she comforts the dragons. "I understand well desires and you may remedy such foolishness by following my teachings."
Jorah draws his sword. "Why you-"
"Is everything alright in there?" a voice calls out from outside the tent. "We heard some shouting."
"Rakharo, take Lady Miko to her tent. Her healing for today is done," Jorah glares at the woman.
"I might be done for the day, Ser Rakharo, but I do need to keep an eye on your Queen. Please, lead Ser Jorah to his tent. He hasn't slept for two days and I fear it's affecting his clarity," she smiles at him.
Jorah waits anxiously for an answer, his grip still tight on his sword. He knows that Rakharo was the only one who didn't join in the praises; the man saw it as a dishonourable thing to do so. But I don't know if he still holds his loyalty to Daenerys. And if he doesn't...
Finally, the Bloodrider gives his answer: "Prince Miko, will you let me escort you back to your tent?"
"I will be glad to, Ser Rakharo. I just need to say a few things to Ser Jorah, so would you mind waiting a bit?"
"No problem," Rakharo says, his silhouette turns to stand near the tent flaps.
Jorah lets out a sigh; the man is on his side. He still has allies in this grassy sea. "Well," Jorah chuckles, sheathing his sword, "I bid you a good-"
His chin is suddenly raised up by the woman's wooden piece. The dragons slither and hiss at him while she sports a malicious grin. "You do not slap a Saint and get away with a slap on the wrist, Ser Jorah Mormont. I'll be looking forward to your repayment. Good night and get some rest. You'll need it," she giggles, draping her cape over herself before exiting the tent. The lights die away and Jorah is left in the dark with his own thoughts. His tired, grainy thoughts.
He needs to do something. Something fast, something drastic, lest this woman conquers the khalasar without even lifting a sword. But who can he trust? He knows well of Rakharo's distrust in her, but what of the others? It's unfeasible to comb through the thousands in the khalasar. Her handmaids?
...
Before long, he slumps over on the chair, his exhaustion overcoming him.
Dothraki Sea
Dany can feel it, as if time has stretched to the end of days. Everything feels so slow yet so fast, her own thoughts mixing with that of nothing.
She sees a crow, riding atop a serpent over a black sea. The storm and the wind blows with them, waves crashing onto cliffs and castles. They feast on the bodies of drowned men.
And it changes again.
A shoreline, yellow sands and a blood-red tide. Bloated corpses line the beach like driftwood, pale milky white. A topless tower, its walls beating red like a heart, washes it self ashore. Then everything bleeds.
And it changes again.
Blackness, neither warm nor cold. Great ruined towers wreathed in shadows, full of sharp teeth and the laughter of children. A mountain of corpses spills into the rivers, turning them black. The beasts within whimper in fear.
And it changes again.
Dark, all around her is a sea of stars and comets, stretching to the beyond. Pink clouds float through the air, soft yet sharp to the touch. And a demon clad in black and white stands at the centre of it all, reading a book. Talking. Cackling.
Smiling.
Daenerys Targaryen wakes.
Opening her eyes, she's assaulted by a sudden brightness, causing her to flinch and close them again. She lets out a groan, feeling her body quite weak and her head pounding with pain. And she's hungry. So very hungry and thirsty.
Then there's a voice.
Soft and comforting, like how she imagines a mother would be. It beckons her away from that strange world of dreams. Away from the past and into the real world. To her knight. To her people. To her khalasar.
Feeling herself propped up by a soft pillow, she opens her eyes again, this time the light not as bright as before. As she adjusts with her vision, Daenerys is greeted by the beautiful face of a woman she does not recognise, her golden eyes and smile shining in the morning sun. She puts the back of her hand on Daenerys' forehead before pulling away. "Good morning, Queen Daenerys," the woman greets her. "I hope you had a good night's rest."
"Y..." Her throat feels weak, thus no words come out of her mouth. Instead, she just nods.
"So your voice has yet to return. Well worry not! I can still understand you. Oh, also, please raise up your left arm."
With the woman's help, Daenerys does so and feels a wet cloth scrubbing away the grime on her skin. When she looks down, she realises that she's naked, a blanket covering her legs.
Slowly coming to, she looks around the place she's in. It's her tent, the same as she remembered it. The hrakkar pelt hangs above the bed while the decorated tent walls are illuminated by the sun. And at one corner, she sees the crouched form of her knight, snoring away in her presence. Wait, I'm in the royal tent. I don't remember coming here to sleep so why did I-
The pyre. She remembers now: the maegi, Drogo, the eggs... Her unborn child.
Daenerys tries to push herself up. She wants to see what remains of the pyre, of her husband and her dragon eggs, but the woman's firm grip holds her back down. She's too strong to fight against and Daenerys' body feels far to weak to even try. "Your grace," the woman says calmly, "it's still too early for you to be moving about. You've been asleep for five days-"
Five days!?
"-so your body is quite weak. Trust me, I know the detriments of sleeping too much," she chuckles. "For now, just stay in bed and think about what you want for the day: who do you want to see? What do you want to talk about? What is it that you want to know? Think on those questions while I clean you, alright?"
Daenerys complies as the woman continues on to her back. She feels a bit odd, getting washed down by this stranger. The last time she was washed it was by her handmaiden Doreah, though admittedly it was more than just washing. So why is she the one tending to me? Where are the others? And why Ser Jorah asleep in this tent? She tries to speak again but all that comes out is a crackle. The woman puts her finger to Dany's lips.
"Your beautiful voice will return in due time, Queen Daenerys. But from your eyes, I can tell that you're wondering who I am. Isn't that so?"
Dany nods.
"Well then," the woman wrings the washcloth and stands, her cape flowing behind her, "I suppose it's time for another introduction! Ahem... My name!" She twirls her cape around, displaying her golden bangles and sword. "Is Toyosatomimi no Miko, the Almighty Taoist Hermit Prince! No need to kneel, Queen Daenerys Targaryen, for you are still unwell. And please," she takes Dany's hand and kisses it, "call me Prince Miko."
"O-Oh," she squeaks out before pulling her hand away. A peculiar name for a peculiar person, Daenerys thinks, feeling the warmth on her hand. She reminds her of the bravos statue back at Illyrio's manse in Pentos: that deep yellow hair, the fineries all about her, and that ornate slender sword at her hip. But strangest of all is the title she refers herself with: prince. A prince... Such a strange title to hold, yet she looks the part. Where did she-
Something at the corner of her eye moves. She turns to look at her chest of clothes and sees something small rustling inside. Then, chirping like a baby bird, a long black neck with a pointy head pops out. Dany's eyes widen and her heart drops.
A dragon.
She points at the little creature, half-scared and half-excited. Prince Miko looks where she points and lets out a tired sigh. "Saki... I told you not to mess up the place! Come here." She moves away from the bed and goes to pick up the baby dragon. The small thing no bigger than a cat crawls up to her hand and slithers around it, chirping away at her. "You already had breakfast, Saki. Be patient for once, alright?"
Dany can't believe it. A dragon. A dragon after all these years of the last dragon's death, the symbol of House Targaryen is back. And its colour. Just like the colours of my family... And just like one of the dragon eggs! Wait, have they hatched? Did those dragon eggs hatched!? She remembers offering them to the pyre for her husband before stepping in. Did she just discover a method to hatch dragons? But what did exactly happen then? What of those five days she was asleep?
But most of all, her thoughts are preoccupied by the strange woman and the dragon she's tending to, the one named Saki. She once heard from her brother Viserys that dragons only obey those with dragonblood in their veins, which for that reason Old Valyria had the tradition of keeping the blood pure. But her brother... He's no Old Valyrian, and neither is Dany nor that woman from her looks. No, perhaps there are other ways to tame dragons? One that has been forgotten in time or never been recorded in books? Or is this person someone descended with dragonblood? She does not carry a Valyrian look, but traces of blood could still be there. Someone from the Free Cities? Or some bastard of a Blackfyre?
"My identity is a long story, Queen Daenerys. It even took me a thousand years to fully come to terms with it," she says as she pets and scratches the head of the dragon. It chirps in affection and Dany looks longingly at it. Prince Miko smiles at her. "Ah, would you like to be petted as well? Or do you want to pet Saki?"
Dany is a bit surprised at the Prince's comment but it does not prevent her from mouthing the words "dragon." And so, she reaches out her arms as the Prince lets the dragon crawl off of her and onto Daenerys' lap.
This feeling. Fear? Giddiness? Happiness? All of it, perhaps, for she is touching a dragon. An actual, real life dragon. Not the one in books and neither the stone eggs. A fire-blooded, scaly, chirpy little creature. She doesn't mind the fact that the dragon is uncomfortable with her and coils away at her touch. Its searing warmth is enough to bring back the fire within her, the one that was quenched upon Drogo's and Rhaego's death.
"Do you like that?"
Dany nods, still stroking away at the black-and-red scales of Saki. She quickly pulls her finger back at the dragon's nipping.
"Now Saki, be a good girl, alright? Stay with Queen Daenerys here until I come back with food for the two of you. Remember, BEHAVE," the Prince raises her finger. The dragon answers with a guttural screech, no louder than a cat's meow. "Good. Please wait a moment, your grace. I'm sure your people will be glad to hear of your awakening." With that, the strange Prince exits the tent with a flourish of her cape.
...
After a few moments, Saki jumps off of her and runs around the tent with newfound energy. Dany tries to call for it but to no avail; the dragon doesn't obey her, and apparently it barely obeys the Prince. Then again, the thing's barely hatched so maybe that's just a baby dragon's behaviour. Speaking of which, what of the other eggs? she ponders as she watches Saki climb up the small table at the centre of the tent. Did they hatch as well? Or have they turned to stone?
It's a bitter thought but one that's a reality. Until now, there has never been dragons for more than a hundred years; all attempts to hatch them have ended in failure and sometimes worse. It's a miracle that an egg hatched at all, but what was it? What about the pyre hatched those eggs?
But one is enough for now, Daenerys smiles. A dragon... None in Westeros would be prepared for their arrival. Not the Usurper and his army, not those Lions of the Rock, none of them. There's a lot that a single dragon can do. All she needs to do is to tend the creature for it to grow large; she wonders if it'll grow as large as the Black Dread and strike fear to the heart of Westeros like Aegon did hundreds of years ago. It may take a year or a decade, but she can bide her time. She still needs to raise an army anyway.
She watches the dragon with amusement as it tries to climb up an unlit candlestick. Then, she hears some commotion from the outside. Some are cheers for Daenerys and her name, but she hears others as well shouting the Prince's name. Most interestingly, she hears them call the prince "healer."
So she's the one that awakened me from my five days slumber? No wonder she's so well liked, but where did she come from? Daenerys goes to scratch her head before realising that she's bald. Right, that pyre... Did she saw the fire and came here? Or did my knight found her out there in the wastes?
She sees Saki leaping from the candlestick and gliding onto her sleeping knight. The man, so undisturbed and restful, is bitten on the nose by the mischievous creature. He screams awake, causing the dragon to leap away into the clothes chest.
Ser Jorah rubs his nose, dabbing at the bite marks. "Fucking piece of..." But when he turns and looks at Daenerys, he turns to shock before rushing over to her side. "My Queen! Dear the Gods, I thought you'd never wake!" he exclaims, clutching her hand as tears stream down his face.
She wipes the tears as he looks up at her. Daenerys wants to comfort her crying knight, assure him that she's alright. But she has no voice thus all she can do is rub his hand.
His face turns from relief to confusion. "Your grace? Is something wrong?"
She opens her mouth and points at her throat, letting out a squeak. "I lost my voice," she mouths at him. "It's temporary," she adds, but her knight doesn't seem to understand her lips. Instead, anger and fury is growing within his eyes, and no silent words seems to be able to calm him down.
The tent flaps open and Prince Miko steps through with a tray of foods and... Two more dragons, perched on her shoulder and neck. "Sorry for the lateness, had to concoct- Ho ho! You're awake, Ser Jorah. Care for a drink?" she places the tray down on a table, sporting a wide grin at the knight.
So all the eggs hatched! They all hatched! Dany can't contain her excitement, which catches the attention of both onlookers. Somewhat embarrassed, she points at the dragons, wanting to take a closer look at them.
"Ah, let me introduce you to these lovely girls as well! This one," she lifts a green-and-gold dragon from her shoulder, its eyes looking curiously at Dany, "is Tojiko. Say hi Tojiko!" The dragon hisses before running back up Prince Miko's arm. "She's still a bit shy to strangers. And this precocious little thing," the white and gold dragon unfurls from her neck and begin chirping and jumping on her arm, "I named her Futo!"
"Why give such strange names?" Ser Jorah asks, glaring at the woman.
"Well, Tojiko is the name of my wife while Futo is... A wife or mistress, depends on how you define it," she shrugs.
"Wife?" he snorts. "So you named those dragons after your... Acquaintances. Tell me," he gestures at the peeking head of Saki, "is that one named after one of your friends as well?"
"Saki? Not at all," she smiles. "I named her after my horse."
Dany lets out a surprise cough, alerting Ser Jorah. Prince Miko hands him a cup of something steaming. "It's a herbal medicine. Let her drink it three times a day and her throat should be better in two days."
Reluctantly, he gives it to Dany. The scent is faintly sweet like flowers and when she drinks it, it tastes almost like honey or nectar. Her throat feels warm and much lighter, but she feels like coughing again once she remembers that the black dragon is named after a horse. A horse! Wasn't Balerion and the others used in Aegon's Conquest named after Old Valyrian gods? Why, of all things, a horse!?
"She was an amazing horse, mind you," the Prince's statement seemingly answers Dany's unspoken question. "She would leap over houses and run faster than the wind. Had strong legs, that one. Rest in peace, dear Saki."
"But a horse," Ser Jorah pinches the bridge of his nose, "is still a horse. A dragon can breathe fire and fly through the clouds! How are they anything comparable to horses? It should be the other way around."
"Well Saki was black-"
"You named the dragon after your horse because of their colour!? The next thing you tell me is that you chose those two other dragon names because of their colour as well."
...
"No... You did, didn't you?"
"They like to dress in those colours, Ser Jorah. Tojiko likes green dresses while Futo always wear her white priestly clothes."
"Unbelievable," he shakes his head as Dany continues to sip the warm and tasty drink. "And to think I let you, wench, to heal my Queen."
That's rude.
"That's rude," the Prince replies, covering her mouth with a cape-covered hand. "If it wasn't for me, your Queen would never be awake," the dragons screech i agreement. "Yet you still don't trust me."
"I NEVER trusted you," he hisses back at her and the dragons. "You just came here, offering your help, with no explanation whatsoever! I don't know the hell you're up to-"
"Well if you don't know, shouldn't you research before creating any overreaching assumptions?" she smirks.
As the two continue to argue and quarrel, Daenerys watches Saki climb out of the chest and gallop to the Prince. She picks the dragon up and tuck her away beneath the purple and gold cape, all while still exchanging sharp lashings with her words at her knight. But did I hear that correctly? That she came to my encampment in her own volition? If she wasn't summoned by Ser Jorah, where did she come from?
But the noise from their shouts is starting to grate on her ears. Annoyed, she sets down the cup and claps her hands as hard as she could. Adding a glare, they both stop their arguing. Ser Jorah, now having calmed down, grabs a piece of paper and charcoal from a chest and hands it to Daenerys. "Your grace, to help you communicate with us easier."
She nods and writes down her first question:
What happened while I was asleep between you two?
Prince Miko looks at the writing, nodding her head slightly with a hand to her chin. "I see, I see... Ser Jorah, please read it out for us."
"Why should I?"
"Well she's a Queen, I'm a Prince, and you're a knight. Quite self-explanatory, isn't it?"
"You know," he smirks, "there's no shame in saying that you can't read the Common Tongue, Prince Miko. Doreah and Irri also can't read her grace's writing."
"Oh, I can read," the Prince says with a golden confidence, but Daenerys suspects otherwise. "I simply want to assert my authority over you, Ser Jorah, as a Prince to a knight."
"Fine..." he groans. "Her grace is asking us why we're arguing. I'm sorry for the disturbance, your grace, but-"
"It's a trifle matter," Prince Miko interrupts to Ser Jorah's annoyance. "It's merely regarding the cost of your healing for you see, while I initially did so out of the kindness of my own heart, your knight's actions has made me reconsider."
"Reconsider?" he recoils. "That's- You never told me of this!"
"Well of course! Your transgression was done last night and it took me a while to reflect on your actions. I never doubted my intuitions in healing you, Queen Daenerys, yet I may have miscalculated how your subordinate may react."
Daenerys quickly writes down a statement:
Ser Jorah Mormont is my trusted knight and advisor, but perhaps what actions he committed was out-of-bounds of my ruling.
"Well," Prince Miko begins, "he confined me to a tent, threatened to cut me down not once but twice, wanted to prevent me from healing you, accused me of some ridiculous lechery... And he slapped me. All others I can take but that? That I won't stand for it."
Daenerys looks hard at her knight who's eyes seem almost pleading. If those things did truly happen, then that's a tarnish on her name. Yet... Can I truly blame Ser Jorah for it? He saw me with Mirri Maz Duur and that assassin, so it's understandable my knight would be cautious with my safety. But that doesn't erase the debt I owe this Prince.
What of the payment?
"That," she smiles brightly, "can be discussed later. After you're well and speaking, of course. For now, please eat and rest up. We have a long and arduous journey if Ser Jorah is to be trusted."
"Yes," Ser Jorah agrees grimly. "We have."
And as the little dragons screech and squeal in unison, Daenerys could only wonder at what lies ahead.