A/N: If anyone's even still reading this, and they're an ASOIAF fan, and don't play Skyrim, there's one note. Akatosh is one of the Nine Divines, and is like, the father of dragons, so when Gerdur refers to his 'child', she's talking about the dragon. And that's it. Thank you to my sister GrowlingPeanut for convincing me to start writing again and for looking this over before I posted it.

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Bethesda Softworks and George R. R. Martin.

The road to Riverwood was quiet, save for the cries that still echoed from the walls of Helgen. All the creatures that would once be standing vigil by the roadside had retreated, instinctively fleeing as far from the fire-breathing beast as possible. Though the trip between the two small towns had taken no more than a few hours when the caravan had traveled it, Dany's progress was much slower. She had lost her mare when she was captured and her pace was little more than a crawl as she limped through her pain.

It was nearly sunrise when she approached Riverwood's gates, and she was surprised to find the town quiet and peaceful, as though its denizens had thought nothing of the sounds of battle from nearby, or of the shadow that had covered its streets with a few mighty flaps of its massive wings. Dany was just passing into the town when she heard the beginnings of a shocked murmur.

"Did you hear? Gerdur's brother returned from Helgen with news of a..." The guard glanced around before finishing in a whisper. "...dragon."

His companion snorted in disbelief, but flicked his gaze to the sky nonetheless. "Dragon? There's no such thing. Mere legend is all. You know the boy's always been one for tales of glory."

Not interested in the rest of their conversation, Dany continued on toward the sawmill as Ralof had commanded her to. Vaguely, she remembered Drogo having talked to a woman at the sawmill during their visit to the town on the way to Markarth; a woman whose brother was an important Stormcloak soldier. She realized now that the man in mention must have been Ralof, and that the woman was the Gerdur she was looking for.

Neither the woman nor her brother were at the sawmill when she arrived, but despite the early hour, there was a burly Nord standing nearby with his hands planeted firmly on his hips, watching as each massive log was split and fell apart. Carefully, she approached him, and when he failed to notice her, she cleared her throat. He turned at the sound and looked her over, eyes narrowed slightly.

"Do I know you, girl?"

She shook her head demurely and swayed slightly when a wave of pain washed through her. Pushing through it, she replied, her voice still hoarse from the smoke of the battle. "I was here with my husband, Khal Drogo, and our caravan nearly half a moon ago." She hesitated, wondering how much of her tale since then she should share. In the end, she settled for a mere, "Ralof sent me here to speak with Gerdur."

The man nodded, concern evident on his features and reached beneath his roughspun tunic to remove a small key on a thin strip of leather, which he handed to her. "This will get you into the homestead. Ralof arrived a few hours ago. I imagine he'll be expecting you."

Nodding her thanks, Dany stumbled to the nearby home, fitting the key into the lock and pushing cautiously inside. As the door creaked open, she heard the voices of the Stormcloak soldier and an older woman.

"Everything went to Oblivion, Gerdur. Helgen's nothing more than ashes."

"A...dragon, you say?" Dany saw him nod as she slipped inside and his sister sighed heavily. "Right now I'm just grateful that you escaped your execution. I almost lost you, Ralof. I don't want the next letter I get to be one telling me of your death." She pulled him into a tight embrace, but when the door closed behind their guest, they broke apart and Ralof looked grimly toward Dany.

"Ah, yes. Gerdur, this is Daenerys Targaryen. She too has that beast to thank for her life." With a small smile, he added, "I'm glad you made it here safely."

When Dany nodded slightly, the Nord woman's eyebrows rose high on her forehead. "Targaryen? You're the new bride then. Last time I saw your husband, he asked if your brother had sided with Lord Stormcloak."

Dany nodded again, her hand falling absently to rub away the sharp pain in her abdomen. "He declared as much while arranging a deal with General Lannister. My brother was the reason I was torn from my husband's side and found myself with my head on an executioner's block." Gerdur's expression shifted to one of anger and disbelief as Dany finished flatly. "Now, he's dead. You may write as much to my husband."

The older woman exchanged a look with her brother, who nodded gravely, before speaking. "I cannot pretend to understand what you have been through, my lady, but please, accept my invitation to stay with us. You are welcome to our food, drink, and home for as long as you need."

Smiling weakly, Dany nodded again, and was about to thank Gerdur when her knees grew weak and she clutched the table beside her to keep from falling. Ralof and his sister both jerked toward her and it was the former who gathered her carefully in his arms and helped her out of her borrowed armor before carrying her to the nearby bed.

"Were you injured in the battle, my lady?"

Shaking her head, she sank into the furs and curled into herself. "I just...need to rest..." Before either of her hosts could argue, she had faded into a deep, dreamless sleep.

When Dany woke again, it was to the sound of hushed voices.

"I fear for Riverwood as long as the...dragon...is alive. Someone must warn Jarl Balgruuf and ask him to send guards to protect us in case of another attack."

"I'll go," Ralof offered.

"No." It was the man Dany had met by the mill who replied. She wished she had a name to go with the face. "You and Stormcloak just barely escaped Helgen with your lives. You said he's already on his way back to Windhelm. You should be too."

"Hod is right," Gerdur agreed.

Hod. Now that she heard it, she seemed to remember Faendal mentioning his name during her last visit.

There was a moment of silence before the woman spoke again, almost reluctantly. "I suppose that she should go..."

Ralof's voice rose slightly when he responded, and his sister quickly shushed him back to a loud whisper. "Look at her, Gerdur. She can barely walk two feet on her own, let alone make it all the way to Whiterun. Besides, she couldn't defend herself, and there could be bandits or worse on the way. No. That's out of the question."

"Your sister is right," Hod said firmly. Dany imagined that if she opened her eyes, he would be standing with his arms crossed over his broad chest. "When Khal Drogo's caravan was here, he said that their next destination was Whiterun. That means she's likely met the Jarl already. He may be more willing to listen to her than he would to a prominent Stormcloak soldier. Besides, her name carries weight that ours never will."

Growing tired of their debate, Dany sat up slowly and stretched. The conversation halted abruptly at the movement and Gerdur drifted to her side. "How are you feeling, girl?"

Somewhat refreshed by the lack of a 'my lady', but still annoyed by their conversation about her, she ignored the question and turned her gaze to Ralof. "They're right. I have met Jarl Balgruuf. He is a good friend of my husband's, and knows him to be a honest man. News of a dragon from the mouth of his wife may ring more true than the words of a Stormcloak loyalist."

The family at least had the decency to look sheepish, and Ralof shrugged slightly in acceptance of her words. When she said nothing further, Hod gestured toward the steaming bowls of stew on the table.

"Would you stay and eat with us? It's the least I can do for you having returned my good-brother to us at long last."

Dany nodded and rose from the bed, standing still for a moment to wait out her sudden dizziness before moving to join them at the table. The meal suggested, and a brief glance out the window confirmed, that she had slept through most of the day, and yet still she felt weak and tired. Sighing, she moved to lift a spoon and begin eating when Gerdur cleared her throat and held out her hands with a pointed look.

Lowering the utensil back down, she took the older woman's hand in one of hers and Ralof's in the other as they bowed their heads. It seemed so long ago that she had last prayed over something as mundane as a meal.

"Akatosh, protect us from the child that you have brought upon us. Arkay, we thank you that, in your wisdom, you decided it was not yet Ralof's time to leave us. Dibella, let us remember our friends above ourselves in the days that follow. Julianos, grant us but a small measure of your wisdom as we work to protect ourselves and our town. Kynareth, be good to those in Helgen who are now within your care. Mara, thank you for bringing us together with those we love. Stendarr, have mercy on us in this trying time. Zenithar, thank you for blessing us with wealth enough to provide for Lady Targaryen in her time of need. Talos, give us strength."

"Amen."

Though it took a number of fake smiles and a slew of empty assurances that she was feeling much better and had no qualms about a trip to Whiterun, Dany was finally released from the care of Ralof and his family, though Gerdur sent her with a heavy sack of warm bread and hard cheese and Hod made her promise to hire a sellsword at the inn before she left, pressing a few coins into her palm.

Although she told herself that she was merely keeping her word, she knew that she was in no shape to protect herself on a journey and that a trustworthy sellsword would be a godsend. Especially if she had enough coin to hire someone to escort her all the way back to Markarth.

Her hopes of a quick escape from the town were thwarted however, when she entered the inn and came face to face with Camilla Valerius and Faendal.

"Daenerys?" A bright smile lit up the young woman's face and she pulled the startled Breton into a tight hug. "We hadn't heard that you were returning so soon! Where's Khal Drogo?"

"In Markarth, on business," she replied hesitantly.

The two lovers exchanged a worried look at her answer, and a brief awkward silence settled over them before Camilla grinned again and extended her left hand with a flourish. "We got married! Just after your caravan left." She cast an adoring smile at Faendal and he returned it easily, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

"Congratulations," Dany responded, her lips curving into her first genuine smile since leaving Dar'Jazha. "I'm glad that you two are happy."

When they merely continued to gaze into each other's eyes, Dany grew a bit uncomfortable and she excused herself from their company, her heart clenching as she was reminded of her husband. Sighing heavily, she approached the innkeeper to rent a room and slipped quietly into the one to which she was directed.

Wincing at that pain that radiated steadily through her thin frame, she removed the prisoner's rags that she had been forced into, glad to be free of the roughspun wool. Slowly, she sat down on the bed and her eyes began to fill with tears. She had been betrayed by her brother, was far from her husband, and had never felt so lost before in her entire life. With trembling fingers, she took her cloak from the sack at her feet, curling into it and inhaling Drogo's lingering scent.

For the first time since her brother had sold her to a stranger, she cried herself to sleep, but even in her slumber she did not find peace.

Dany rose with the afternoon sun and gathered her things with weary resolve. She would go to Whiterun and bring Balgruuf the news from Helgen, as she had promised. It was only after that that she could return to Markarth.

Standing in the middle of the inn, she sighed heavily before looking for the sellsword that Hod had mentioned, a stranger who had arrived in town a week earlier looking for work.

Finally, her gaze settled on a large man in the dark corner by the innkeeper's counter and, convinced that he was the man she was looking for, she approached him, cautiously sliding onto the bench beside him.

He didn't look up from his ale when she sat down and she let a few minutes pass in silence before withdrawing the coins Hod had given her and clearing her throat. "Ser?"

Another minute passed and she almost spoke up again when he lifted his tankard, took a long drink, wiped his mouth with the back of a large hand, cast her a cursory glance, and snorted derisively. "Not a ser."

She faltered. "Uh..."

His eyes flicked back over again and she carefully searched what features were visible from inside the dark shadow of his hood. "What? Spit it out, girl. I don't have all night." As if what he had said was amusing, he chuckled darkly to himself before finishing his ale and waving a hand at the innkeeper who quickly scurried over and refilled his tankard.

"I...Are you a sellsword? I'm looking for someone to escort me to Whiterun. And perhaps Markarth as well, depending on your fee."

"Sellsword?" He seemed to consider the question for a moment before shrugging his massive shoulders. "I suppose that's what I am now, aye. Whiterun, you said? I can take you for four hundred septims. That'll buy me a lot of ale at the Bannered Mare."

Dany counted the coins in her hand. Three. One short. And she couldn't imagine going back and asking Hod for more. They had already done so much for her.

"I don't have that much," she said quietly.

He sighed heavily and turned to look at her fully for the first time, revealing a terribly scarred face beneath a head of long dark hair. "How about this then, girl: I take you to Whiterun for free and on our way to Markarth, we go by Windhelm. I left something that I need the last time I was there."

More than a little worried about accepting the help of a stranger, but desperate to return to Drogo's side, Dany took a deep breath and put the coins back in the satchel at her hip.

"Deal."