A/N: Hello. I know it's been a little longer of a wait than it was for the first set, but I had another story that I wanted to get a chapter up for before I kept posting for this one. The only thing I can think of that may need to be explained is for ASOIAF fans and that is that High Rock is the native country of the Bretons. Many thanks to my beta reader (and sister) GrowlingPeanut.

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to George R. R. Martin and Bethesda. Except for Dar'Jazha. He's an original character.

Rating: T for minor language.

"Everybody up! We have a purchase agreement to deliver in Markarth and we don't have time to spare!"

Dany looked up as Drogo stuck his head into their tent and raised his eyebrows. "Do you have anything to wear besides gowns?"

When she shook her head, he nodded and frowned, ducking back out and leaving her to stare down at the dress she had been about to put on.

After how surprisingly tender her new husband had been the night before, Dany felt a bit more at ease around him, but the new life she was a part of would still take some getting used to.

Slowly sitting down on the bedroll at the back of the tent, she pulled one of the thin blankets up to cover herself and wrapped her arms around her knees, hoping that Drogo would return and provide a little clarification on what she should do about her dresses. Thankfully, he returned a moment later with a handful of clothing, tossing it all in her direction before walking in through the flap of the tent and shuffling through a stack of papers, taking one from somewhere in the middle.

"Put those on and meet me out with the rest of the caravan. I'll get your horse ready." He hesitated for a brief moment then walked over and placed a kiss on top of her head. "Don't take too long."

Once he was gone, she stood up and looked at the clothing beside her. Doing her best to get dressed as quickly as possible, she slipped into the dark brown trousers and red top he had given her, fastening the included sandals to her feet and brushing her fingers through the thin strands of her hair.

When she walked out into the valley they'd settled for the wedding, she found herself standing in the middle of a deceptively organized frenzy. Men, women, and children were all running around and gathering together every tent and wagon of cargo into the center of the valley where Drogo and Dar'Jazha stood, yelling out orders to those who passed by. "Load up the carts! We need to get moving!"

Dany carefully picked her way through the crowd to Khal Drogo's side, standing quietly by him as he saddled their horses and swung his braid over one shoulder. Dar'Jazha turned toward her as she waited.

"Our Khaleesi slept well...yes?"

Blushing slightly at the look in his slanted eyes, she nodded. "Yes, thank you."

Drogo finishing cinching the saddle onto Dany's horse and shot a look at his Khajiit partner. "Leave her be, Dar'Jazha. She has a lot to get used to. You don't need to make it worse."

He curled his tail around one paw and shrugged, flicking his ears back. "What the Khal commands, Dar'Jazha obeys, yes." With that, he sauntered off into the throngs of people.

Drogo sighed and turned to his wife. "I'm sorry about him. He takes a little getting used to."

Dany just nodded and ran her fingers through her horse's mane, smiling when the mare whickered and nudged at her hand with her nose. She saw Drogo smile out of the corner of her eye and he came to stand behind her.

"Are you ready to go?"

"Yes. Have you seen my brother?"

Frowning, Drogo shook his head and lifted her up, setting her on top of her horse.

"Not since last night. Would you like me to find him?"

Dany hesitated then shook her head. "No." If Viserys had wanted to see her off, he would have been there. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her crawl back to him begging for a goodbye.

"Alright. Then we'll be off." Drogo swung up onto his horse and whistled to Dar'Jazha who sent a nod in their direction and yelled toward the back of the caravan. A few seconds later, the carts rolled into motion and Drogo nudged his horse forward, leaving Dany to do the same.

They rode without talking for a while, but it wasn't an uncomfortable silence. The gentle clip clop of hooves against the earth and the occasional creak of the loaded wagons were somehow comforting and Dany found herself enjoying the steady swaying of the horse beneath her.

"How old were you when you left High Rock, Daenerys?"

Her name sounded strange and somewhat forced, but she understood that Khal Drogo was merely trying to put her more at ease.

"You can call me Dany," she replied, then sighed and furrowed her brow. "And I was almost three when Viserys and I fled here."

"Fled?"

Dany had a feeling that Drogo must've known something about the nature of their departure from High Rock, but she didn't mind telling him about it anyway.

"Our father was the ruler there, but he was killed, as was our mother and our elder brother, Rhaegar." From the stories that Viserys had told her, Rhaegar had been everything that Viserys wasn't: brave, honorable, just. Dany wished desperately that she could remember him.

"They were killed by an Imperial and his army. The usurper took our family's throne and has been ruling High Rock for the past sixteen years." She was silent for a moment before continuing. "Viserys always said he would go back home and reclaim our father's throne, but...as you know, that has yet to happen. When we first arrived here in Skyrim, he sold our mother's crown to earn enough gold to gain prestige. You'd never hear it from him or anyone who helped him rise to his position, but it was that money that gave him his seat as Jarl."

When she trailed off, Drogo glanced over at her. "And what about you? Have you ever thought of trying to claim the throne of High Rock?"

Dany laughed, and then smiled. It felt good to laugh again without fear of punishment or suspicion.

"Me? What claim do I have? I was the King's daughter, not his son, and the youngest child besides."

Drogo smiled at her laughter and shrugged his broad shoulders. "I'm not sure. Now that Torygg is dead, Elisif has a chance to take over as High Queen once the Moot is called."

Dany had never been all too interested in the politics of the Civil War, but now that Viserys had been asked to choose a side, the issue seemed a bit more pressing.

"Do you think she has a chance?"

"I suppose so. I think it all depends on the result of the civil war." Drogo chuckled and cast a brief glance over his shoulder to check the progress of the caravan. He slowed a little when he caught sight of a wagon that was struggling to keep up. "I honestly don't give a damn which side wins. Either way, my caravan will still be in business. But since most of my customers are either Legion soldiers or Stormcloaks, I'm finding myself forced to pay attention to the progress of each side."

Their conversation was interrupted by a shout from somewhere behind them followed by the whoosh of a dozen arrows and then a roar. Dany looked back in alarm to see a bear standing up on its hind legs with about half of the loosed arrows protruding from its belly, back, and legs. Unfortunately, the only thing that the arrows appeared to have done was make it angry and when it lowered itself back to all fours it shook its head and started running toward one of the carts.

Before she'd even realized that the Khajiit peddler had galloped up to meet them, Drogo was tossed a bow and a quiver of arrows.

"Dany, get behind me."

She obeyed as he notched an arrow to the bowstring and drew back, hitting the bear at the same time as three other archers. Between the four of them, they managed to take it down before it did too much damage.

Dany stared at the dead animal and blinked, peering out from behind Drogo to see if anyone was hurt.

"Skin it and add the pelt and claws to one of the wagons!" The caravan master called out, and a moment later, a few women went toward the creature to do his bidding.

Dany found herself suddenly disgusted; not by the carving up of the bear's body but by herself. How was she supposed to be the kind of wife a man like Khal Drogo was looking for when she had known nothing but the sheltered life of a highborn lady?

Before she could continue her self-loathing, Drogo turned back toward her and smiled, though the gesture didn't quite reach his eyes.

"We need to stop now in order to rearrange the equipment and make repairs to the wagon. If you'd like, we could stop for lunch. I don't believe we ever broke our fast."

Dany smiled weakly and nodded. "I would like that, my lord...Drogo."

He nodded and slung his quiver over one shoulder before swinging down off of his stallion and looking toward Dar'Jazha. "Make sure that cart is ready to go before we move out again. I don't want to have to make any unnecessary stops."

"Of course, my Khal...Dar'Jazha will join you when the task is complete, yes?"

"Yes."

Once he had ridden off toward the damaged cart, Drogo helped Dany down from her horse and set out a thin blanket in the grass, retrieving a bottle of wine and some food from his saddlebag as well.

Dany sat down on the blanket and immediately curled her legs to the side before she remembered that she was no longer wearing a gown. Frowning slightly, she slowly readjusted her legs so they were crossed in front of her. The position was surprisingly comfortable.

"Wine?" Drogo asked, holding out a filled goblet in her direction. She nodded and took it with a smile.

"Thank you."

He merely nodded and ate a piece of bread in contemplative silence. After a moment, he looked toward her with an expression she couldn't quite decipher.

"Do you know what the city of Markarth borders?"

Dany frowned and tried to recall an image of the map of Tamriel she had once learned, but came up short. "No."

A slight smile tugged at the corner of Drogo's lips and he took a long drink of his wine. "High Rock..."