A/N: Hey, new chapter! It'll give you something to read before Superbowl Sunday (if you care about football), and I won't have another one up until late next week sometime because I'm about to get really busy, so hopefully this'll tide you over until then. So...there isn't anything in this chapter that isn't explained within the text itself, so nothing to add in that regard. I know this is a fairly quick update considering my unfortunate absence for over a month not too long ago, but we're in the home stretch right now, so we're getting to the chapters that I've already written towards the end and that's allowing for faster and more frequent updates. There are only sixteen chapters left in this story, and I've already fully completed three and partially completed quite a few others, so we're almost done, folks. Just so you know. As always, many thanks to my beta reader (and sister) GrowlingPeanut. Reviews are appreciated.

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Bethesda Softworks and George R. R. Martin except for Dar'Jazha; he is mine.

Rating: T for minor language and vague sexual references

After a night of fitful sleep, a hearty home cooked meal to break their fast, and an early morning trek back through the marshes to the road, Khal Drogo's caravan found itself beneath a grey and dismal sky, the exact opposite of the weather they had been fortunate enough to travel in the morning before.

Despite this, their mood did not reflect their environment and a steady hum of activity and excited murmurs buzzed from the caravan as they made their way across the Reach to the city looming just above the horizon.

"Tell me about Markarth," Dany said with a smile after they passed a road sign directing them to their destination, turning her head to look at her husband.

Drogo raised his eyebrows and then exhaled slowly. "Markarth is an old city. Do you want me to start all the way back before the seven hundredth year of the first era when it was inhabited by the Dwemer, or when it was captured by the Reachmen again during the Fourth Era?"

She thought about it for a moment. "When my people took it back." She felt a sudden and unexpected surge of pride at the thought.

"Well, eight years before your birth, in the one-hundred seventy-fourth year of the fourth era, the natives of the Reach, now known as the Forsworn, took advantage of the Empire's distraction by the Great War against the Aldmeri Dominion and they reclaimed the city. Still harboring intense resentment toward both the Nords and the Empire for their respective roles in exiling them from their homelands, they split from Skyrim and for two years became their own independent nation. Markarth served as their capital."

Dany frowned. "After all of that, only two years?"

Drogo nodded and smiled wryly. "As their conqueror famously stated, 'You are with us, or you are against Skyrim'."

Daenerys gasped quietly in sudden realization. As a girl she hadn't learned much about the history of the country she now lived in, for Viserys was more fond of stories about the home she had been too young remember. But, being the younger sister of Riften's Jarl, she had been taught the family histories of each of Skyrim's Jarl's, Windhelm's included.

"Ulfric Stormcloak was the one who took it."

"Yes. He swept into the city, cleaving the heads off of men, women, and children alike with his broadsword and locking Madanach up in Cidhna Mine where he remains to this day."

"So who does the city truly belong to?"

"Truly? I'm not sure that it belongs to anyone. The Dwemer who built it are now long gone and both the Reachmen and the Empire have proved to be nothing more than temporary residents."

"Why do you call them the Reachmen?" Dany asked after a brief moment of silence. "I only ever hear them referred to as the Forsworn; except by you."

Drogo shrugged. "In an effort to be cautious I suppose. It's something you learn after spending enough years catering to the needs of people from all corners of Tamriel. But mostly, it's because calling them Reachmen reminds them that they're still men underneath the façade of devil-worshipping brigands that the rest of Skyrim's people have created for them."

Dany looked over at him with a certain amount of surprise. "You mean you've done business with them?"

Her husband nodded and absently steered his horse to the right side of the fork that led to Markarth, quickly rising above the horizon to meet them.

"Not often, but more than once, yes. They're not all the witches that people believe them to be. Some, yes. But not all. And I've dealt with the ones that aren't. We've traded with them on occasion, have we not, Dar'Jazha?"

The Khajiit swiveled his ears to face his partner as his horse trotted up to meet the front of the caravan and his eyebrows rose high above his large yellow eyes.

"Pardon me, my Khal?"

"We've traded with the Reachmen during our travels, have we not?"

"Ah...the Forsworn, yes. They are not all so crazy as the stories say, no?"

"No, indeed," Drogo replied in a murmur, an expression of relief visibly washing over his features as the road changed to cobblestones beneath the hooves of their horses and the large stone sign announcing their presence at the gates of Markarth passed beside the caravan.

Dany looked up at the city in awe, far larger in life than she had ever imagined it to be. Its pale yellow stone cut far into the sides of the mountains surrounding the stronghold, its towers looming high above the golden metal of the gates that stood open to welcome the caravan.

Almost as soon as the gates had opened, a soot covered man came stumbling through them, practically tripping over his own feet in his excitement.

"Khal Drogo!" His face split into a grin at the sight of the Redguard and he ran over, just barely managing to stop before he ran face-first into Drogo's large roan stallion.

Drogo laughed and swung effortlessly down from his horse before pulling the younger man into a brief embrace. "Omluag, it's been too long. But what are you doing? Won't Mulush tan your hide if he finds that you've left the smelters?"

The Breton shook his head and smiled. "I don't work a shift today. Some stranger showed up here not but two moons ago and she must have seen the way Mulush treated us, because I saw her take him aside and talk to him while he was beating Hathrasil one day and ever since then, we've been given shorter shifts, time away from the smelters, and none of us has been whipped or beaten for almost a moon now. We're even getting better wages." He puffed out his chest proudly. "I've earned enough in that time to move out of the Warrens and get a room at the Silver-Blood."

Drogo's eyebrows shot up and Daenerys continued to watch the exchange in confusion.

"You're out of the Warrens? What about the others?"

Omluag's excitement dwindled a bit and he shook his head, shuffling his feet in the dirt. "No. But they'll sure be glad that you're back. It's been getting worse down there."

Dany shot a quizzical glance over at Dar'Jazha and the Khajiit pulled his horse over so he could answer her questions without being overheard by the rest of the caravan.

"The Warrens is where the Empire puts all the poor and sick of the city. It's nothing more than a pile of filth with walls to make rooms. It seems to Dar'Jazha that they put them there in the hopes that they'll simply disappear."

Daenerys was appalled. "How can they do that and get away with it?"

Dar'Jazha shrugged. "You could ask the same of many things the Empire and the Stormcloaks do, no? Names hold great power, Khaleesi, and here, that name is Silver-Blood."

Dany sighed and looked helplessly at the man walking at Drogo's side as she nudged her mare back into motion and rode into the city alongside her Khajiit companion.

"I just wish there was something I could do to help them."

"Perhaps there is, Khaleesi," Dar'Jazha suggested with an enigmatic smile. "After all, your name has more power than you realize as well, yes?"

With that, he rejoined his partner when Drogo gestured for him to approach and Dany followed suit, dismounting with the help of one of the many traveling merchants that had made the journey from Riften with the rest of the caravan.

Drogo was giving instructions to Dar'Jazha when she approached. "...get Daenerys settled into the inn. I have some business to take care of and a purchase agreement to deliver at the Treasury once Kleppr signs it."

The Khajiit nodded and turned to relay the information to his partner's wife, but she stopped him with a hand to his arm.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to come with you, my lord. If I'm to become a part of your caravan, I should grow accustomed to the business involved as well as the time spent on the roads." She hesitated briefly. "And I wish to see the city of my people."

The Breton still standing beside her husband appeared visibly startled and he looked her over with newfound appreciation and an expression of poorly concealed awe. He could not tell, perhaps, precisely who she was, but he was not blind to the slight pointed tips of her ears and the delicate features that marked her as a highborn Breton.

Drogo raised his eyebrows, visibly surprised that his wife was interested in the business side of his caravan, but he smiled nonetheless. "Of course. In that case, Dar'Jazha, once you purchase our room at the inn, have our dear friend Omluag here help you bring our lady's things up. I'll get my own when we return."

The Khajiit nodded and gave a shallow bow before turning away to do his partner's bidding, but Omluag hesitated, shuffling his feet in the thin layer of dust that covered the cobblestone road.

"My lord, I—" He paused and looked from his soot covered hands to the silk bags of Daenerys' belongings that Dar'Jazha was retrieving from the caravan's wagons.

Drogo frowned in confusion, but Dany, accustomed to the poverty of Riften's beggars, gave her fellow Breton a soft smile and stepped forward, taking his large tan hands in her own pale and delicate ones.

"There is no reason to be ashamed, sir," she said gently. "These hands have seen hard work and the dedication that freed you from the slums you were once forced to live in, that is all. That does not make them unworthy of the duty that my lord husband has appointed you." Her expression softened slightly and she squeezed his hands. "There is no shame in the symbol of your accomplishments."

Omluag looked from the woman before him to the Redguard at her side and when he saw nothing but warm affection in the dark eyes of the latter as he gazed down at his wife, he smiled and nodded, relief flooding his dirt-streaked features.

"Thank you, my lady. I won't forget that, I swear."

"Then you should help me with those hard working hands of yours as you remember, no?" Dar'Jazha said as he brought over another bag, his eyebrows raised and his tail flicking back and forth in apparent irritation.

Omluag flushed and stammered an apology before hurrying off to the cluster of wagons as the rest of the caravan bustled with activity of its own.

Drogo chuckled and looked over at the disgruntled Khajiit. "Is that your way of telling me that married life has made me go soft?"

Dar'Jazha snorted. "Yes. Dar'Jazha has a family of his own and yet you don't see him letting the workers get out of their work, no?"

Without waiting for a reply, the Khajiit stalked off, his tail snapping sharply in annoyance as he returned to the caravan. Daenerys watched him go with a sheepish expression and Drogo smiled, taking her hand and squeezing it lightly.

"He jests, my lady," he assured her. "In all the years I've known Dar'Jazha, he's never been anything less than kind and fair to the men and women who work for us."

She nodded her relief and then followed her husband as he pushed aside the door to the Silver-Blood Inn and approached the man behind the bar. After a brief moment of hesitation, she decided to stand off to one side as Drogo took a seat and rapped his knuckles sharply against the wooden counter.

"Kleppr!"

The somewhat sour-looking old man turned and his expression softened a bit as he realized who was addressing him. He waved a hand in their direction and finished pouring a drink for one of his other customers before setting down the jar in his hand and taking a seat across the bar from the large Redguard caravan master.

"Khal Drogo. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"This." Drogo took out the purchase agreement and tapped it with a finger. "It's the purchase agreement that Bolli in Riften apparently promised you."

The barkeep frowned down at it and then took it slowly, breaking its wax seal and scanning the page before making a quiet sound of enlightenment. "Ah. Yes. The Riften Fishery. Let's see here." He lifted his eyes back to the top of the page and soundlessly moved his lips as he read the details of the agreement. "I'll get ten percent of all the profits made..." He nodded in satisfaction and then put down the parchment to retrieve a quill and inkwell from beneath the counter.

Dany watched as he signed the purchase agreement and then pulled out another piece of paper and quickly scrawled something across it before signing it as well and handing both to Drogo.

"Take both of those to the Treasury House, if you will. They'll want to have the purchase agreement on file so I can get my earnings each moon, and if you take the other they'll give you your share for the trouble you went through to bring it here."

Drogo nodded graciously and tucked both pieces of paper into the satchel at his hip. "No trouble, but I appreciate the gesture."

Kleppr nodded and then glanced over his customer's shoulder to where Dar'Jazha and Omluag were hauling a mixture of Dany and Drogo's belongings up the stairs at the back of the barroom.

"Your partner bought the biggest room we have here," the barkeep mused, looking back toward Drogo. "Paid for two." He raised his eyebrows suggestively. "Hoping to find a wench to keep you company tonight?"

A rare blush rose to Drogo's tan cheeks and he shook his head, laughing quietly in embarrassment as he shot an apologetic look in Daenerys' direction.

"Ah, no. Kleppr..." He reached out a hand and pulled Dany to his side when she took it. "This is my wife, Daenerys Targaryen."

It was evident that the barkeep recognized her name and he looked sheepishly at the couple. "My apologies, my lady. I meant nothing by it."

Dany couldn't help but be slightly amused at the reactions from the two men, but she merely smiled graciously instead of laughing as she wanted to.

"No harm done, sir," she assured him before adding teasingly. "But I would ask that you let my lord husband and I take our leave. Our dear Khal has some more business to do and I would not be averse to getting it done so that we might retire to our rooms earlier and...keep each other company."

The barkeep's complexion flushed a deep red and Dany stifled a giggle at the lopsided smile that crossed her husband's features at the thought.

"Of—of course, my lady," Kleppr stammered, absently removing the rag from his belt and wiping down the bar with obvious discomfort. "I have no wish to keep you."

The arrival of another customer and the annoyed command from Kleppr's wife to stop sitting on his ass and serve their patrons, saved him from further embarrassment and he scurried away, leaving the two of them alone.

Drogo looked up at Dany and his smile grew at the look of amusement on her face. "You've grown a bit bolder, my dear wife," he teased, earning a slight blush as she shrugged.

"You've changed me. And I fear no retribution from you."

Drogo merely nodded at that, but gave no response, instead standing up and taking Dany's hand to lead her back out into the city. They walked in a comfortable silence along the streets that appeared to be paved in gold and Daenerys couldn't help but stare around in awe of the Dwemer architecture that jutted out proudly from the mountainside.

After ascending a few narrow and rather precarious sets of stairs carved directly into the pale grey stone of the mountain, they reached a large stone building with ornate golden doors that ostentatiously displayed the wealth held within its walls.

"The Treasury House?" Dany ventured to guess, looking up at her husband.

Drogo nodded and opened the door for her before following her in and whispering lowly as they walked toward the wooden counter that separated the entry way from the treasury itself, sealed tight behind two barred gates of the same golden material that made up so much of the City of Stone. "Half of the city is owned by the Silver-Blood family. As their name suggests, their wealth is practically all they're made of. This place is owned and run by Thonar Silver-Blood, and the only people who are privy to shares from their treasury are generally their patrons. Dar'Jazha and I are two of the very few exceptions."

They were greeted at the counter by a pretty young woman who looked up and gave them a tired smile as they approached. "Welcome back, my lord. How may I help you today?"

"A few things, Rhiada," Drogo replied, removing two sheets of parchment from his satchel and laying them each out on the counter. Dany couldn't help but be amazed by the fact that her husband seemed to personally know each and every person they met on their travels, be in it the villages along the roads or in Skyrim's cities.

"This is a purchase agreement between Bolli of Riften and Kleppr of the Silver-Blood Inn, its signing witnessed by both my wife and I and now brought before the treasury to be recorded and kept until such a time when it might be dissolved."

Rhiada nodded solemnly and took the paper, politely excusing herself before retreating to the back of the building and returning a moment later empty-handed.

"What else, my lord?"

He slid the other sheet of parchment forward and nodded toward it. "That's a note of compensation from Kleppr for my delivery of the purchase agreement."

The young woman nodded again and looked it over before glancing toward Daenerys. "Did you see Kleppr sign this, my lady?"

Dany nodded and Rhiada seemed content with that, withdrawing again to unlock the gates of the treasury and retrieve Drogo's payment. She returned shortly after, struggling visibly with the three pure silver ingots that he had been rewarded with.

Drogo hastened to unburden her and the young Breton smiled her thanks before lowering herself down into the chair behind the counter, one hand moving to her heavily pregnant belly.

"Is that all for you today, my lord?"

"Not quite..." Drogo turned toward Dany and he smiled before taking out a final sheet of paper and offering it to her to read.

The handwriting was familiar and it took her a moment to recognize it as Drogo's. She frowned in confusion and began to read, her eyes scanning the page swiftly as she took in its contents. I, Drogo of Hammerfell, do hereby bequeath ten thousand gold septims to Daenerys of House Targaryen upon the completion of our marriage in the sight of the Lady Mara and Lady Targaryen's last blood relative, Viserys of House Targaryen, that she may use it as she sees fit before or upon my death. It was signed below by both Drogo and Viserys.

When Dany remained silent, Drogo's smile faltered a bit and he hastened to explain. "It's your dowry. I had to agree to it before Viserys would allow us to marry."

Despite the kindness of the gesture from her husband's eyes, Daenerys couldn't help the bitterness that she felt as she read it again. Ten thousand septims. That was what her brother had decided she was worth. The reality of her situation had never seemed more demeaning than in that single moment.

She managed a smile for Drogo's benefit and she carefully slid the dowry note onto the counter where Rhiada looked it over and then once again left them alone to visit the treasury.

"That's a fortune to spend on a bride," she said lamely, regretting it the moment it left her lips.

If Drogo noticed, he said nothing and smiled instead, gently cupping her chin between his thumb and forefinger. "And you're worth more than ten times that. You're worth more than all the wealth in Nirn combined. But this gold is yours now, to do with as you please. I had hoped it would be a more suitable wedding gift than a mare."

"I'm quite fond of Silver," Dany said after a moment, her mood lifting slightly at her husband's sincerity. "But I appreciate this gesture as well."

He looked proud and he nodded before grinning down at her. "Good. Just don't spend it all at once."

A sudden thought occurred to her and she grew thoughtful before replying slowly, "Actually...that's exactly what I intend to do."

Drogo raised an eyebrow.

"Dar'Jazha was telling me of the Warrens and how badly the people there are treated. This money should be more than enough to give them each something to live off of and to replace the Warrens with homes for the workers, would it not?"

He considered it for a moment. "Small homes, but, yes, perhaps. At any rate, it would be better than their conditions now, there's no denying that."

Rhiada returned with an official ten thousand septim note signed by Thonar Silver-Blood himself and she handed it off to Daenerys before thanking them for their business and turning to a man who had entered just moments before.

"I don't think there's any better way to spend that money than by giving it back to my own people."

Drogo nodded his agreement, pride evident in his deep brown eyes and he smiled as he took her hand. "I think you're right about that." He bent down to giver her a kiss. "Come, let's get settled into the inn. Once we've rested and made up for all the sleep lost on the roads here, we can rise fresh at dawn and put this plan of yours into action."

The walk back to the Silver-Blood Inn was silent, each of them lost in their own thoughts, and when they reached their quarters, Drogo set straight to unpacking their belongings and putting things in their proper places as Dany explored their rooms.

Dar'Jazha had certainly taken Drogo's advice and given no thought to the price of the rooms. They, like most of the city, were grand and ornate, with a large featherbed set in a golden frame, a chamber pot far too fancy for its use, and even a full-length looking glass framed by a thin coil of what appeared to be pure silver. Deep red curtains hung across the door that led out to an adjacent balcony and Dany stepped outside, leaning against the polished copper railing as she stared out across the city below. Following her own rambling thoughts, she quickly lost track of time and it had been the better part of an hour before she heard the sound of footsteps behind her and a pair of strong arms wound themselves around her waist.

"I love you, Daenerys Targaryen," Drogo murmured, his lips brushing against the pointed tip of one of her pale ears.

She shivered at the contact and leaned into his touch, sighing softly when he moved down to kiss the length of her neck. "I love you too."

She could feel him nod and she giggled as his beard brushed along her collarbone, tickling the already sensitive skin. "And I'm proud of you. I couldn't possibly be more proud of you." He kissed her full on the mouth and tilted her head back to meet her eyes, his own dark and clouded with desire. "I can't think of anyone else more worthy to be a queen."

He gently untangled himself from her grasp and reached for her hand, turning her to face him as he slowly retreated back into their chambers, his eyes never once leaving her face as he spoke in a low whisper. "Let me make you feel like one."

She was more than happy to oblige.

Standing alone on the balcony, Daenerys heard the door open and close quietly behind her and when a few minutes passed in silence, she spoke up.

"Do you ever miss it?"

"Miss what?" The familiar bass of Drogo's voice was calming and he took a step forward to stand beside her, his hand moving to cover hers where it curled around the railing.

"Home."

He sighed and didn't respond for a moment, staring out at the aurora that was spreading its pastel hues across the night sky. "Sometimes. But then I see something like that." He gestured out toward the vast expanse of the Western sky before them. "Something beautiful." She could feel his gaze lingering on her face. "And I remember that this is my home now."

Dany gave a quiet sigh and looked out across the darkened city with an expression that mirrored her unhappiness.

"I've lived here for most of my life," she began softly. "All of my life that I can remember. But it's never felt like home. I grew up hearing Viserys' stories of High Rock, and I find myself yearning for a land that I've never even known. Is that wrong? Am I being ungrateful for feeling so distant from the land that has given us a life and a chance to start over?"

Drogo shook his head and moved to stand behind her, his large hands slipping beneath the blanket she had wrapped around her pale shoulders to ward off the night chill and settling against her lower abdomen.

"No, there's nothing wrong with wanting to see the land of your birth, the land that's yours by right."

His comment reminded her of her recently realized claim to the throne of High Rock and she absently moved her hands to cover his.

"But is it wrong to want our child to know my homelands as its own? I know more than most how it is to be raised surrounded by the politics of a high position. And if I return to High Rock, there will be nothing short of war. The Usurper would not give up his throne without a fight."

Drogo hugged her tightly against his chest and leaned down to brush his lips against the top of her head. "These are all things we can worry about in the light of day, love. The night seems to lend itself to musings that one can't see as clearly as during the day. That being said, if your convictions hold true, you know that I would travel to the ends of Nirn and back if it made you happy, so if you decide that you're ready for the life of a queen, I will be by your side, leading an army if that's what it will take. I swear it on the old gods and the new. You will have your throne."