The contented sounds of whistling dragons filtered in through dreams of fire and platinum blonde hair. Heat seemed to fall in slices across her body as she came into consciousness, squinting at the harsh sunlight coming in streaks through the shades. These were the Khaleesi's chambers, yet she was in the bed. Alone. Groaning with the effort of raising herself even partially upright, Doreah glanced around briefly, then down at her arms, covered carefully in bandages and poultice. Her bruised jaw felt less swollen and her skin was scrubbed clean. She could remember nothing of how this came to be.
It was then that she caught sight of the khaleesi across the room, playing with Rhaegal as the other two lounged in the sunshine being cast across the table. Her hair was strange, unkempt in some way but her demeanour was relaxed and carefree. Finally she turned towards the bed, a smile spreading across her face at the sight.
"You're awake." It was an obvious statement leaving Doreah to nod in agreement.
"Khaleesi, how?" She had far more questions to ask but that seemed the most pressing for the moment. "I should not–." With a wince, she tossed the blankets back taking quick note of the fine nightdress on her body, and stepped out. Her habits took over and immediately and despite her injuries, she began to adjust the bedclothes.
"Doreah." The voice was gentle, patient. Even a little bemused. So unlike the previous night.
"Yes, Khaleesi?"
Drogon took the moment to screech loudly in her direction and she involuntarily winced. She was not sure if it was a friendly sound or not, especially after what she had got the dragons into. Daenerys scowled momentarily at her dragon before refocusing her gaze. "Get back into bed."
"My quarters are–"
"You have taken no issue with coming into my bed in the past, Doreah." There was the slightest of smirks across her lips. The words were indirect yet pierced in exactly the right places. She wanted to argue with the implication, to remind the khaleesi that those were different circumstances and the current request was beyond what was considered appropriate for a handmaiden. But then perhaps that would be equally inappropriate. And, in all honesty, she doubted many handmaidens would have found the previous requests any more appropriate to have so gleefully accepted. Irri certainly had not when she learnt of Dany's more controversial requests of Doreah.
The thought of Irri stung. The competition that had existed for Dany's affections and the resulting tension of cultural conflict was not lost on any of them but the thought of losing what amounted to a friend, as best as she could find anyway, was painful. Suddenly, her head felt heavy and she sat on the edge of the mattress, staring at the floor just beyond her feet.
Lost in thought, she did not realise that she had been absent until a rather large black lizard nipped at her toe. It was Drogon and he croaked in protest at her when she jerked her foot away from him. She was still not certain what he wanted and as she tentatively placed her foot closer to him, she was surprised to hear him chirp softly and begin to climb her bare leg as she had seen the dragons do so often to the Khaleesi. When he reached her lap, he settled and made a feeble screech towards his mother.
"He still loves you," Daenerys said, a small smile playing on her lips. "If you had wished them harm, or treated them poorly, you would no longer have any toes, of that I am sure." Her voice was severe yet warm. She had accepted the apology that Doreah had tried and failed to get out previously.
She wanted to try once more, but looking at Daenerys made it clear that it would be unnecessary. "I trust you have reasoned that I meant no harm then, Khaleesi? That I tried to protect them?"
The light on Daenerys' face fell slightly. "I understand a little. Not everything." She sighed and stroked a tender hand over Viserion. "In time. Right now, you should rest and get well. Qarth is in disarray and I will need you by my side again."
"Of course." The request to resume her duties as Daenerys' handmaiden was easy to agree to. The actual action of crawling back into her bed was quite another. It was awkward. Not only was the mattress itself far more pillowy than she was accustomed, but the idea that it was not meant for her made Doreah constantly question the idea. Should she insist on heading back to the servant's quarters? She adjusted and readjusted the blankets and pillows, her forearms spiking with pain each time they rubbed too hard against the heavy bedclothes. Her body itself would not relax, twisting and turning as best she could in her tender state. To top it all off, she could feel Dany's eyes on her the entire time. She willed herself to hold still and feign sleep.
.
Sometime between lying perfectly still and pretending to sleep, she had actually fallen into a deep, dreamless slumber. Waking many hours later, she heard the night bugs twittering in the garden nearby and when she opened her eyes, everything almost looked as if it was shimmering under the silvery light of the moon. As she contemplated whether or not it was just the cool breeze stirring the curtains or something more foreboding, she felt the bed shift of its own accord. It only took a moment for her to realise that Daenerys was asleep beside her. The knowledge made her uneasy, despite how comfortable it actually felt to be close to someone, especially someone who was not trying to shove his cock into any number of orifices where it was not welcome. As she gently tried to slip from under the thin blanket, she noticed the painful ache of her wounded arms was significantly less. Squinting down, she saw fresh bandages and sighed. She really had to stop being such a deep sleeper.
The pause to look over the handiwork on her arm had afforded the girl beside her chance to stir and then reach out. "Stay, Doreah."
Jumping slightly at the unexpected sound, the handmaiden looked down to see Daenerys with her eyes closed, already drifting back to sleep. Even so, there were warm fingers gripping tightly at the loose fabric of her borrowed nightgown as if it was a treasured childhood toy - or a fleeting hope. This had never been a scene she'd been able to witness. The khaleesi, innocent and unaware, likely lost in a world where dragons clouded out the sun and all the people of Westeros knelt at her feet. Or perhaps her dreams were more simplistic, because as Doreah peered down, she did not see a warrior queen at all. Barely even a princess. She only saw a young girl, naïve and alone. There was no mark of bloodshed and war, no broken heart, no fear. It struck Doreah as suddenly quite mad that this person would command mighty dragons and sit on a throne surrounded by the skulls of her enemies, obtained with fire and blood.
Sometimes, in the light of day and Daenerys' blustering passion, it was easy to forget that she was still just an 18-year-old girl, looking barely more than a child at times even though she had experienced so much more. The moon itself seemed to honour her, bathing her fair skin in soft light, making it almost glisten. She had often heard Khal Drogo refer to the khaleesi as the moon of his life. She certainly saw now how such a comparison could be made.
It also left very little doubt in her mind that dragons indeed came from a shattered moon.
Inching back under the blanket, she lay her head on the down pillow and let the warmth of the fire-blooded girl beside her ease her back into dreamland. Daenerys never loosened her hold.
The quiet stillness of night dissolved quickly as the sun rose and birds of all sorts began to praise its return once again. Not soon after, the house and city itself was suddenly a flurry of noise and activity, including the furious footsteps of servants. It had been weeks and Daenerys still had not quite grown accustomed to the hustle of a city. The khalasar was equally busy, true, but it seemed but organic, in tune with the ebb and flow of time passing. Here in Qarth the moment the first pink glow rose in the east, life exploded forth. Doreah was still sleeping soundly by some odd miracle despite the busy comings and goings of house staff in the room. Dany knew that any moment Ser Jorah would be arriving, no doubt with news of a potential ship's captain for immediate hire or awaiting her next plan – to shoot it down as he was so prone to do.
She rose abruptly, surprised at how incredibly well-rested she finally felt. The previous night had not chosen to plague her with visions of blood and death. In fact, the vague recollections she had were of childhood memories, or more precisely, fantasies of a childhood that she had never had. Hers had been stolen but for one night, she had lived what she had longed for. There were smiles and parents she did not know but nonetheless loved; her brothers were alight with peace. She can recall the touch of her mother's hand over hers. There was comfort and a sense of protection that had been absent, and she never had to run. The fear never existed. Then there had been the red door. The red door was always in dreams, but finally it was no longer a reminder of what had not been, but a symbol of what had. Her own history had rewritten itself in dreams and she had woken feeling happiness, in its most pure essence. Doreah lay unaware of the gift she had given.
As she whispered tenderly to her dragons, they rustled around peeping and whistling in response, scratching at the confines of their nests for food. Daenerys obliged readily and was happy for the distraction from thinking about a debt she had no idea how to repay. Drogon shrieked out impatiently as his brother was fed first rolling over on Dany's lap in satiated pleasure. The sound roused Doreah and Dany glanced over somewhat nervously before returning her attention to easing Rhaegal back into his cage. She could hear tentative steps across the floor. Busying herself with feeding Drogon was the simple task. Ignoring Doreah was much more difficult.
When Drogon chattered at the familiar face and then twisted his lithe body around to steal a piece of meat from between Doreah's fingers, Daenerys eventually had to face the gaze of her handmaiden. This was a new sensation and she could not quite form an idea of what it meant. Doreah's eyes were wide and reflecting greens and blues in the morning light, strikingly clear. That is, until her stare drifted across Dany's shoulders.
"Khaleesi, your hair!" Her voice sounded quite concerned as she hastily reached out and let the uneven strands of severed hair fall through her fingers. Dany flinched away from the touch, feeling suddenly that the familiarity of her handmaiden was becoming a discomfort. The other girl must have received the message because she stepped back somewhat briskly but her face showed no less distress. Daenerys turned away from the imploring stare and focused on wrangling her unruly dragon back into his cage. Despite her best efforts to slow the process, the action had not taken the entire day and Doreah was still standing there, awaiting an explanation.
"I cut my braids the night we found you," she finally managed to admit, flippantly trying to pass it off as inconsequential but failing. It seemed impetuous and excessive now in retrospect and she feared reprisal for her emotional reaction. Of course, she had forgotten that Doreah very rarely passed undue judgement on anyone, especially not her own khaleesi. She was not disappointed in her assessment, as Doreah said nothing, moving in silence to twist straying strands together between her fingers thoughtfully.
"I can fix it," Doreah muttered quietly, almost reverently, seeming to take in the meaning without the need for explanation. She said nothing more, rapt in the action and considering her options as she idly stroked over the frayed ends.
Daenerys nodded, breaking the contact momentarily as she moved to take a seat and let Doreah work.
.
.
The swamphens and warblers were both in full song as the mid-morning light made it's way across the sky. As Doreah finished, an uncomfortable anxiety settled back into Daenerys' stomach. The brief interlude of silence had eroded any ill thoughts she had been having and the feelings of warmth from her previous night's sleep had begun to soak into her skin once again. But with the end of task, Dany was reminded that even if it was only in her own mind, she owed a debt to Doreah now. It was ridiculous for a khaleesi to owe anything to anyone, certainly not her help. For a queen, it was even less likely. But then she was also certain that it was equally ridiculous for a khaleesi to be pinned, virtually helpless to the bed for lesson on sex from her servant. Her cheeks flushed of their own will at the impromptu memory. Any way she looked at it, she was not an ordinary queen.
Her stare fell upon her servant girl who was now adjusting her own bandages. The wounds had not been as bad as they had looked under the chilly veil of night and the Qarth ladies had offered some remarkable medicines to ease Doreah's recovery. The treatment seemed to be working quite well. A dog bite was often fatal primarily because they had a tendency to go for the throat. Doreah had been lucky whatever dog she had met lacked the instincts of its breed. Tearing at the flesh of her arms had been painful, but much less severe than it could have been had it gone for softer tissues. Yet, she was not fully healed and there was still so much to be done in Qarth before they could leave. It had not come as a surprise when Ser Jorah arrived, staying only briefly before insisting that he must go find a ship. The khaleesi made no complaint with the plan. It was for the best. She watched as Doreah winced as she pulled the scrap of fabric tighter around her forearm, twisting it into a knot securely. Her thoughts meandered back to that night.
"There was a great deal of blood. I was concerned," Daenerys said quietly. "The women cleaned you as best they could."
"And I will thank them for it."
The air became tense with unspoken questions and the silence seemed to make it drag on twice as long. "The blood…" The voice of her lady came out uncertainly, wavering slightly on the words she failed to express.
"It was a wild dog."
"The other blood…"
Doreah recalled the struggling, the ripping, the burning. It should not have been so messy. After all, she had taken larger before. Yet the circumstances were altogether different. She had not been ready, not even afforded the benefit of spittle. It was so much like her first time. And now, there was an ache still present there. Bruising, perhaps. But of course, that was not entirely unfamiliar.
"Xaro Xhoan Daxos is a large, indelicate man, Khaleesi." She could not look Daenerys in the eyes any longer and all the better since the khaleesi took on a sickly pallor at the vile admission.
"Was." Her voice shook slightly, but it was certain. Eventually Doreah looked up, surprised to see unshed tears in Dany's eyes. "I have never been so glad to have had a man killed before now."
It was Doreah's turn to feel tears welling up. She held them back but not her tentative astonishment, her hopeful jubilation. "He is dead?"
The blonde frowned hard and stared toward the garden beyond. "Yes, I trust he is." She was still uncertain but either way, dead or exiled, he was of no consequence anymore. He would die in the Garden of Bones if he had not perished in the fire already. Her guilt bubbled away deeper still. If she had not asked Doreah to lay with the men of Qarth, perhaps none of that would have happened.
"Thank you, Khaleesi." Her head was bowed.
Daenerys was taken aback at how small Doreah's voice had become. She had always been sure of herself, of her powers, of her experience. At least that is how Dany had seen her. Even when pleading for her life, she had fire in her. It had been one of the reasons Dany had kept her closer than the other handmaidens. Perhaps it was due to her past, but she realised that she had been often blinded to the fact that just because a girl worked as a courtesan did not mean that she could not be devastated just the same as other women. Just the same as she herself had been.
If Xaro was indeed alive by some miracle and she ever heard of his name again, she would be certain to let Drogon at him. Burn him alive and feast on his sizzling flesh.
They did not talk anymore on the subject, allowing the day to pass with necessary tasks until dusk settled into the room and the nightbugs sang to the waxing moon. Scared of the meaning behind such a good night's rest the night prior, and moreso the extent of the debt owed, Daenerys did not argue when Doreah took her leave that evening. Despite how she longed for the company, she could not risk what it meant.
Under the shadow of navy sky and the jewelled belt of the stars above, the nightmares returned.