A/N: My apologies for the delay in getting this chapter published. It took awhile to get going on it but I think I've got my groove back, so to speak. Warnings again for rape & physical violence...last time I promise.

It's a town full of losers and I'm pulling out of here to win.

~Bruce Springsteen, Thunder Road

"You are not to leave this house unaccompanied again," Viserys said at breakfast the next morning. Daenerys met his gaze, folding her napkin into her lap. "Yes, sir," she said.

Viserys smirked. He hadn't detected her insolence.

Meanwhile, across the city, Drogo woke up with one thought: he needed to get Daenerys out of there.

It wouldn't be easy—he couldn't pretend it would be—but he had come to the realization that he had no other choice, unless he wanted the next time he saw Daenerys to be on the evening news, dead at her brother's hand.

He dressed for work as usual, tugging on his coveralls and braiding his hair just like he always did. He was working at the library again today, maybe Daenerys would be there again. He could offer to drive her home again and then not take her home at all. They could go anywhere.

As an afterthought, he tucked his pistol into the front pocket of his coveralls as he was walking out the door.

When Daenerys agreed to Viserys's stupid rule about staying in the house, she hadn't anticipated that Viserys wouldn't leave the house either. She had finished her lessons around noon and spent the rest of the day fulfilling Viserys's barked orders, until at 3:30 he announced he was going to take his leave (he actually said that, as if he was a lord from some bygone time and not a broke sociopath sponging off the kindness of others) and disappeared into his bedroom.

Daenerys waited until she was sure that he was completely asleep before gathering her coat and library card. She was hoping that Drogo would be at the library again—it hadn't seemed like he was finished, and maybe he would ask to drive her home again, and maybe she would tell him not to go home and they could drive far away and never come back. They could go anywhere.

No sooner had she touched the door, though, than an alarm started howling and Viserys appeared in the doorway, imposing even with sleep in his eyes.

"Daenerys," he said coldly, "I thought I told you that you weren't to leave this house."

He looked so imposing standing there that Daenerys shivered, lowering her head. "Yes sir," she said, and this time, there was no insolence.

"Come here," he ordered, and Daenerys stepped forward, only to be yanked closer to Viserys, who then dragged her into the living room.

She had assumed that he was going to beat her, so she braced herself for that, only to be completely blindsided when he tore her dress off, shoving her against the wall. He must have been very angry to be willing to do his thing in the middle of the day. Daenerys closed her eyes and tried to ignore the burning until his movements slwoed and he began to make his kitten sounds, withdrawing. Daenerys could feel his sticky stuff dribbling down her legs, and involuntarily, she gagged.

Viserys slammed her head against the wall. "Do you think that's disgusting?" he demanded, slamming her head against the wall once more. "Because it isn't." Slam. "It's love, Daenerys." Slam. "And that's a lot more than he'll ever give you." Slam. Slam. Slam.

Daenerys closed her eyes and focused on her copper dragon until she lost consciousness.

When Daenerys didn't show up to the library by six o'clock, Drogo's heart was hammering with barely-suppressed rage. He had killed her, he was sure of it. Drogo had been too late.

As soon as the clock read six, he washed his brushes and said goodbye to Mrs Stark before rushing out to his truck. He may have been too late to save Daenerys, but he wasn't going to be too late to avenge her.

He arrived just as the ambulance was pulling away, and he parked his truck across the street, silently joining the small crowd (mostly of women) that had gathered in front of the house, listening. "Such a shame," one of them said, shaking her head.

"He seemed like such a nice man, too," said another.

Drogo regarded the house with a steely expression before turning to the woman who thought it was such a shame. "She is dead?" he asked.

The woman gave him a pitying expression, shaking her head no. "Badly beaten," she replied, repeating, "Such a shame."

The other woman lowered her voice. "Raped, too," she added, her eyes widening.

Drogo nodded wordlessly, crossing the street to get into his truck, following the ambulance as fast as he could without getting pulled over.

When Daenerys woke, she was in a clean white room that was not her own, a warm blanket tucked around her and every muscle in her body aching, her head stuffed with cotton, a machine beeping incessantly in her ear. The hospital, she thought. She turned her head carefully to the side, expecting to see Viserys in the chair next to her. Instead, there was Drogo, still in his coveralls, sleeping with his feet up on another chair. She sucked in a breath, sure she was hallucinating, and reached out the hand that didn't have an IV in it to brush against his arm, startling him awake. "How did you get in here?" she asked, her voice sounding tinny and faraway in her own head.

"I lie," he replied sleepily. "How you feel?"

She shrugged as best she could and then winced, and Drogo nodded in sympathy, sitting up, fussing with her pillow. "How long have you been waiting?" she asked.

"Forty-eight," he replied. "Rest," he ordered, and she settled back against the pillows once more.

"Minutes?" she asked, blinking and trying to reorient herself.

"Hours," he corrected, matter-of-fact.

Daenerys considered this. "Oh," she said softly.

"Viserys is in jail," he added. "We have to get out here."

Daenerys closed her eyes. "Take me away," she said.

Drogo kissed her forehead. "When you are well."

Daenerys smiled. At last, her dragon had found her.