A/N: I apologize (again) for the wait. But my classes are all over now so I can write again! Yay! And I only actually have seven chapters left to write for this story before it's over and the sequel begins. That should hopefully be sometime around mid to late June. But we'll see. Regardless, here's chapter 40. And I don't think anything needs explaining so just go ahead and skip over the disclaimer and rating and get right to what you've been waiting for. 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 brief mild sensuality.
"Be sure to write as soon as you arrive in Falkreath," Drogo said from where he stood surveying the things that Dany was bringing with her. "And don't let her out of your sight." The latter command was directed to Dar'Jazha.
"And what about when nature calls?" Daenerys teased him with a soft smile. Drogo frowned and then amended his statement.
"At least stay within earshot."
Dany laughed and folded another gown into the satin sack she was packing for the journey. It was the one she had had made in Helgen, in the colors of her house. "You needn't be so worried," she assured him with a fond look in his direction. "Dar'Jazha will keep me safe."
"Dar'Jazha will do as Khaleesi says, yes." The Khajiit purred in agreement, wrapping his tail absently around one of his paws and flicking it insistently. "But we must be on the road if we are to reach Falkreath in time."
Drogo nodded as the statement shook him from his thoughts and he moved toward the bed, only to bend down and reach for something beneath it. Dany stopped what she was doing to watch him with a quizzical look on her face, but when he straightened up and laid a long fabric-wrapped package on the bed, her stomach twisted.
"I want you to take these with you," Drogo said, removing the fabric to reveal the weapons that Dar'Jazha had given to them as a wedding gift. "Even if you do not use them, you have more need for them than I do." Dar'Jazha took them and then gave a shallow bow of gratitude before retreating from the room to leave the couple to their farewells.
Daenerys stood in silence for a moment, meeting her husband's gaze as she absently fingered the woolen blanket across the bed. Drogo sighed and Dany's lip began to tremble as her name left his lips in a whisper. Folding her into his arms as she began to cry, Drogo sat down on the edge of the bed and let his young wife collapse in his lap, curling up and burying her face in the warmth of his chest.
"And you were the one telling me that you would be gone for a mere fortnight," Drogo teased gently, his fingers combing through her hair as his lips brushed across her pale shoulder.
Daenerys nodded in response, but still trembled when she tried to regain her composure. "I'm going to miss you," she whispered against him, her fingers tracing absentminded patterns across his knee. "I..." She hesitated for a moment. "I didn't think I would fall in love with you so quickly."
Smiling, Drogo hugged her tighter. "Neither of us did. But I suppose now it's a good thing that we have. Now I can spend each moment that you're gone looking forward to your return."
Dany nodded and managed a weak smile, squeezing her husband's hand as she stood. "As can I."
He walked with her to the door and stood helplessly beside it as she opened it and walked through into the hallway. Turning, she stood on her toes and kissed him, slowly, so that the feelings of her lips lingered even after she had pulled away. "Goodbye," she whispered, then turned and walked away, not knowing how long it would truly be until they were together once again.
"All this land," Dany mused as she rode alongside Dar'Jazha through the dismal marsh beyond the gates of Markarth. "It's so...empty. And unwelcoming. And yet it's the most fought over region in Skyrim."
"Perhaps because it has the misfortune to be just near a border, yes?" Dar'Jazha suggested, shrugging his shoulders.
"But the Imperials haven't tried to take Falkreath just because it's north of Bruma. It left Cyrodiil to become a part of Skyrim years ago, and they aren't still bickering over who should control it."
"No, and a good thing too. Khal Drogo would skin Dar'Jazha alive and sell his fur as a rug to the highest bidder if his Khaleesi were anywhere near Imperials."
Somehow, she doubted that, but the mere suggestion that her husband could entertain the notion of such cruel and unusual punishment made her wonder what he was like when he grew angry. She imagined that his reputation as one of the fiercest men in Skyrim was well-founded despite the natural tendency of rumours to stretch the truth.
A few moments of silence passed before Dar'Jazha motioned toward the weapons tied behind her saddle. "Has Khaleesi named them?"
"Named? I...no." Her confusion was evident.
Dar'Jazha gave her a toothy grin. "It is Khajiit custom, my Khaleesi. For Khajiit, a weapon is not just a trinket to be bought and sold. It is a part of its owner, an extension, yes?"
It took her a moment to realize that he had phrased it as a question to make sure she was following and she nodded before responding somewhat sheepishly. "I understand, but...I wouldn't even know where to start. Perhaps...you could name them for me?"
He looked slightly offended and his ears shot back to lay flat against his head. "No, Khaleesi. Such an honor is too high for Dar'Jazha."
"But I insist."
The Khajiit hesitated only briefly before narrowing his yellow eyes and giving a slight nod of his head. "Khajiit names will suit, yes?"
"Yes."
"The whip will be Jhogo," he said after a moment of deliberation. "The bow, Aggo. And the sword...Rakharo." He nodded, obviously pleased with himself, and Daenerys smiled.
"All fine names. Now it shall be an even greater honor to carry them into battle."
"Has Khaleesi yet learned her way with a blade?"
Dany sighed and frowned slightly. "Only what Drogo was able to teach me on the road from Riften. But not near enough for me to protect myself in a fight." She looked over at the Khajiit and smiled. "That's why you're here."
Dar'Jazha's ears flicked back and his thin lips curved into a scowl. "Or perhaps because our Khal has want to be rid of me, yes?"
Daenerys laughed. "I'm sure that isn't it. I know too little about business to truly be your replacement."
They lapsed into a comfortable silence as their horses plodded through the wet marsh and it was hours later that Dar'Jazha's voice broke Dany from her thoughts. "So much death."
The sentiment was said as though he meant it only for his own ears, but when Daenerys looked up to see the blood splashed cairns that marked the path to a nearby cave, she spoke in response.
"What do you think of the civil war?"
The Khajiit gave a huff of disapproval. "Dar'Jazha does not like to think anything about it. The Stormcloaks fight for "freedom", yes? But their Bear only wants freedom for the people of his race."
"And the Empire?"
"Land." He snorted in derision. "All the Imperials want is more land. Soon they fly their dragon above all of Nirn, no?"
The picture he painted brought a similar image to mind, one of the few memories of her own that she had from her childhood in High Rock. Amidst the cries of pain and terror that rang through the halls of the pillaged palace, young Daenerys had been carried through the fray in the arms of her young brother, barely more than a boy and yet already thrust into manhood by the command from their mother to run for the border and never look back. Unable to understand at the time, and only realizing that she was being taken from her mother, Daenerys had disobeyed and peered over Viserys' shoulder to see her mother standing beside what had once been her throne, and above it, the banner of House Targaryen, torn in two by a corsair's blade and stained with the smoke of the quickly growing fire beneath it. Against the silvery strands of her hair, her brother had whispered the words that had seemed at times to be their only hope. "We are the blood of the dragon. We are the blood of the dragon. We are the blood of the dragon..."
The memory seemed so real that it was as if Dany could smell the familiar acrid tang of smoke and her head reeled as the phantom scent caused bile to rise in her throat. Evidently, her unease was apparent, because Dar'Jazha was quickly at her side, one large paw steadying her in her saddle.
"Is Khaleesi hurt?"
She shook her head weakly but the motion only further increased her sudden dizziness. "I'm fine..." she whispered faintly, trying to no avail to push aside the protective Khajiit.
"No. Khaleesi needs rest," Dar'Jazha said stubbornly, more to himself than to the subject of his concern. "Her Khal would never forgive Dar'Jazha if his Khaleesi were to come to harm, no."
At the mention of her husband, Dany lost all her resolve to continue and she slumped into her saddle, fighting back tears of confusion and loneliness as Dar'Jazha steered their horses off of the road and into the surrounding pines. She was barely conscious when she felt herself lifted from her saddle a moment later and she was dimly aware of the Khajiit's uneven gait as he carried her across the ground and into what appeared to be a cabin.
"Is she hurt?" an unfamiliar voice asked. It was a woman's voice, kind, and full of concern.
"She says no. Dar'Jazha is not convinced." The Khajiit sounded more troubled than she had ever known him to be and she tried to focus on his face through her fluttering eyelids as he bent over her with a frown.
"Go get her some water." It was the woman again, more commanding than before.
"Hodor." The word was followed by heavy footsteps as what sounded like a very large man plodded out of the small cabin.
Daenerys tried to sit up, but the attempt set her head to spinning again and she was gently pushed back down by another stranger, this one a young man with long auburn hair that fell into his bright blue eyes. "Just rest my lady," he said quietly. "You will be taken care of."
She opened her mouth to thank him, and perhaps inquire after his name, but the effort instead pushed her past the brink of consciousness and she fell into a fitful slumber.
"So the West has completely fallen to Ulfric Stormcloak?"
"Jarl Targaryen has sworn allegiance to the Lord of Windhelm, yes."
"And this is his sister?"
Mustering what little strength she found that she had, Dany sat up and leaned against the wall for support before opening her eyes and answering the question herself.
"Yes. I am Daenerys Targaryen."
The room fell silent for a moment as five pairs of eyes observed her, but the moment was broken by the woman that Dany was dimly aware of hearing in her earlier state of weakness and confusion. She was young, perhaps no more than sixteen, with long brown hair, green eyes, and a kind smile.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady. I am Meera Reed, this is my brother Jojen." She gestured toward a slightly older man sitting apart from the others. At the mention of his name, he turned, and stared at her unblinkingly with the same piercing green eyes as his sister. His gaze was unsettling.
"This is Brandon," Meera continued, addressing the young man that Dany remembered seeing earlier. Only now could she tell that he was a cripple, with both of his legs hanging uselessly from the chair in which he sat. "And that's Hodor."
The large man beside Brandon looked up from his lap and smiled toothily. "Hodor."
Dany smiled back then turned toward Meera and sat forward with Dar'Jazha's help. "I thank you all for your kindness," she began. "But my companion and I really must be going if we're to reach Falkreath in time."
At the mention of their destination, Brandon's expression grew troubled and he exchanged a glance with Meera, who shook her head ever so slightly before turning back to Daenerys with a forced smile.
"Nonsense. You will stay with us tonight, and then if you truly must go, you can leave at sunup. At the very least, stay so that you can rest and recover from what ails you."
Dany was about to object, to assure them that she was quite well and that her momentary spell of illness was nothing but the lasting effects of a long-buried memory, but the quiet sound of Jojen's voice stopped her.
"She is with child."
Brandon and Meera both looked toward Jojen, but Dar'Jazha turned to Dany, his eyes wide and his ears flattened back against his skull.
"Does the Khal know?" he asked, his tail flicking back and forth in apparent agitation.
Daenerys nodded. "I told him just before we reached Markarth."
The Khajiit growled low in his throat and his eyes narrowed again as his lips curled into a scowl. "And still he let you go to your brother."
"It is not his fault," Dany assured him, resting a hand lightly on his knee. "I gave him no other choice."
Though he looked unconvinced, Dar'Jazha calmed down nonetheless and lapsed back into a contemplative silence. Dany smiled slightly at his concern for her well-being as well as the babe's. She could only imagine what he must have been like before Ma'ahni had been born.
"All the more reason to stay," Meera replied, ignoring the looks that Brandon was giving her.
"Hodor," Hodor mumbled, seemingly in agreement.
This time, Dany didn't bother to argue.
They dined on venison stew and cabbage that night, the meat from a deer that Meera proudly announced she had hunted down and killed herself. Though she was sure it was too early for her hunger to be due to the babe she carried, Dany ate as though she were starving, only pausing between bites to breathe and shamefully consider how unladylike she must seem.
The added company seemed to calm the nerves of the cabin's reclusive inhabitants and Dany watched with amusement as Meera and "Bran"—as the young woman affectionately called him—exchanged the occasional shy smile across the table. She recognized the expression on the young woman's face as one that she had often herself directed toward Drogo since the night of their wedding.
Jojen, on the other hand, seemed even more tense than he had been, and he picked aimlessly at his stew between coughs that seemed to give his already pale skin a more sickly pallor. On occasion, Dany would look in his direction in concern for his health and would find his pale green eyes staring rigidly in her direction with a somewhat glazed expression. Though she didn't say so for fear of offense, she found the young man rather disquieting.
Once the meal had been finished, Daenerys feebly attempted to reject the offer to stay, but even Dar'Jazha advised against starting off again at dusk, so they settled into the small cabin for the night, praying for a good night's rest to help them in their travel the next day.
Before long, the cabin grew quiet but for the sound of Hodor's snores and Daenerys was teetering on the edge of sleep when the gentle creak of wood caught her attention and she opened her eyes to see Meera rising quietly from her spot on the floor beside Bran to follow her brother into the forest. The young woman's gaze fell to Dany's motionless form as she crept through the door and Dany all but stopped breathing for fear of being discovered.
Once she was sure that they had gone, she slowly got up from the bed and laid her bare feet upon the wooden floor, careful not to rouse any of her sleeping companions. After waiting for a moment, she stood and left the cabin, following the barely audible whispers of the Reeds deeper into the forest. When she could hear them clearly, she stopped and concealed herself behind the thick trunk of a pine.
"I know what I saw, Meera." Jojen's voice was stronger than it had been when he had last spoken, and he sounded almost angry at his sister.
"It was just a dream, Jojen—" Meera began, though she was cut off.
"When was the last time I had 'just a dream', Meera? You know as well as I do that I inherited our father's gift, even as Bran did from one of the Starks before him."
Dany realized with sudden surprise why Brandon had seemed so familiar. He had the same Tully features as his older brother and sister, who Dany had met once as a young girl, just after she and Viserys had made it into Skyrim. It seemed the younger Stark, presumed dead since the rogue Imperial raid on Winterhold, was very much alive after all.
"But what you saw, Jojen. It could mean...I don't know." Meera sounded desperate. "Something else! The Khajiit said Viserys was waiting for them there. Perhaps it's about him."
"I know what I saw." Jojen replied firmly. "It was a three-headed dragon, black, against a sky as red as blood."
"Yes," Meera responded wearily. "The sigil of House Targaryen. Though there are only two heads remaining. Daenerys and her brother are the last of their line. Except for..." She trailed off, and Dany's hand fell to her waist.
"There were three heads," Jojen continued. "I'm sure of that. But then two were cut off, and when the final one spoke, it rained death upon Nirn. Fire and blood and death."
Meera was quiet for a long moment, and Dany could swear that the sound of her heartbeat was audible in the eerie stillness of the night as it pounded in her chest. Fire and blood and death.
"Are you sure that you didn't just dream it because of the stories that Bran has been telling us? You know how his imagination can be. Perhaps they made more of an impression on you than you realized."
"No," Jojen said, his voice resonating with wisdom far beyond his years. "It was as much a prophecy as was Brandon's coming. I know he has been uneasy as of late, and not only because you've decided to make yourself welcome in his bed and he lacks experience with women—"
"Jojen!"
Her cry, laced with embarrassed denial, went unnoticed. "But I think he has seen it too. And he knows as well as I do that if Daenerys Targaryen goes to Falkreath, the world as we know it will be destroyed."