Author's Notes: Welcome to a new chapter! Thank you so much for reading and leaving your comments! It's intriguing to see how you all think the story is going. I hope you enjoy. =)
Once more, I'd like to thank Theostry for editing the last chapter and this monstrosity! This would be a lot harder without you!
I would also like to thank Kyra for continuing to edit previous chapters. I've only replaced up to Chapter 5, so I've been falling down on the job in that regard. Thank you so much for your effort and hard work! I promise I'll update the other chapters you've done as soon as possible!
Chapter 45
Daenerys III
She had been awake for barely a day when Drogo ordered the khalasar to move from Vaes Dothrak. She was transferred to a litter and then four riders carried her to a wooden cart. There were blankets and cushions set up for her and a canopy stretched across the back to protect her from the sun.
Her anger at Drogo had ebbed with her exhaustion and pain, but she felt it throb again like a beating heart at seeing the cart. As if to rub salt in the wound, Drogo had yet to see her. It was Ser Jorah Mormont who saw her placed into the carriage. At seeing her glare, Jorah said, "You were gravely injured, Khaleesi. It's only temporary."
She didn't bother speaking to him. Only the old and the weak ride in the cart and I am neither, she thought, but as there was still shooting pain with every squeeze of her muscle, she knew she could not yet ride her silver mare. Jhiqui was also forced to ride in the cart with her, so that someone would be there for her to command.
Upon starting out, Dany continuously fell in and out of sleep, the real world mixing with the world in her dreams. Sometimes she heard the other dragon, Aemon, calling out to her, in a tone of increased urgency, but she could do little more than cry as her loss and loneliness engulfed her. Once she shot awake from a nightmare in the middle of the day. Jhiqui whispered soothing words and stroked her hair in a calming gesture. Quite suddenly, her mare dipped down just outside the canvas and whickered at her. Dany gasped and moved to stroke her nose, flinching from pain yet again as she slid over.
She sighed as her hand ran over the soft skin of her muzzle and rested her face against that of her horse momentarily. Then she peaked out from under the canvas. Ser Jorah was riding next to the wagon, holding the reins of her silver mare. When he saw her, he said, "I convinced Drogo to allow your horse to stay near you. That it might offer you comfort."
"She does. Thank you, Ser Jorah," she said. Cooped up in the back of the cart, she held onto her horse as long as she could, but eventually her mare had to pull away.
With little else to do but heal, Dany stewed in her thoughts and was repulsed by what she found there. Just thinking about her brother brought on such a powerful wave of anger that it threatened to scrape her insides raw. She pushed him away. After what he had done to her, he would never get another kind thought and it was best to forget that he ever existed.
But Drogo surprised her. Things had been...rough, initially - and she tried to forget about those early weeks - but she had found he had affection for her. There was no mistaking the softness of his eyes whenever they fell on her. And yet, he wouldn't visit her. When she asked Jorah about it, he said, "The khal must appear strong, Khaleesi. He's trying to move on." But there was a guilt to the way Jorah said it.
"You're hiding something," she replied.
"The khal would never confide in me, Khaleesi. I do not know why he is avoiding you, but you understand how it must look for him to appear ruled by a woman. You are his queen, but you are not to rule him," he replied.
Her gaze darkened and she sank back into her cart once more.
Had his affection all been an act? No, it was genuine, but maybe it wasn't meant entirely for her. It had been there for the baby. She had been carrying his child, his future, his Stallion to Mount the World, but now that that future had been ripped away from her, he ignored her. Would he only look on her with affection once more when she had another child in her belly? It would be fitting, she thought sourly. He sees me as nothing but a mare, like all Dothraki do, simply waiting to be mounted.
She had a feeling her silver mare would eventually share the same fate, of being mounted to bear a foal, no doubt for their future child. She recoiled at the thought.
Hadn't she heard enough of Viserys' rants about the importance of a male heir to understand that was all she was worth? Once Drogo started opening up to her, she thought he was different from what Viserys had suggested, and yet he appeared to have the same mindset as her brother regarding her worth. He did not want her commanding him.
I am a Targaryen. I was meant for more than just a broodmare, she thought to herself as she simmered in the suffocating heat.
"Khaleesi, I know you're tired of resting, but the sooner you rest, the faster you heal," Jhiqui said to her. Her maid tried to smile at her, but her lips trembled with nerves and her eyes were frightened. Who was she afraid of? Her or Drogo? "I-I have been instructed to massage you if you so desire. Being tense only makes the pain linger. Would you like a massage, Khaleesi?"
"Very well then," she replied, doing her best to soften her expression since Jhiqui was not the target of her anger. Unlike the khalasars, she wished not to lay waste to everything, just certain things, like a dragon would. She sat up at the thought and shouted, "Ser Jorah!"
"Yes, Khaleesi?"
"Bring my dragon eggs to me."
"Of course, Khaleesi."
The khalasar did not stop save at the command of Drogo, but still someone dug out her eggs, and delivered them to her within moments. The dragon eggs were cradled into her side once more and she held them close. She lost one child, but these at least still remained. She had a hunch, an inkling that they could be more. After all, what was the purpose otherwise to give them to her? She doubted Illyrio Mopatis' words despite his kindness. After Ser Jorah mentioned that Illyrio never gave in kindness what he could not get in return, she wondered if perhaps there was more to these dragon eggs than she had suspected.
It had been several days since they left Vaes Dothrak. When the khalasar stopped at night, Dany was once more loaded onto a litter and transported to a tent apart from Drogo's. Any attempts to move on her own, even to make water, caused her maidens to fall all over themselves as if they thought she were made of glass. It was beginning to try Dany's patience. I'm not an invalid, she wanted to shout at them, but tried to keep her temper in check for their sake.
Dany for once woke to silence and stillness. Judging by the light of the day, the cart was usually moving by this time.
"Jhiqui, why aren't we moving?"
"Another khal. One of the outriders found another khalasar. Our khalasar rides to battle," Jhiqui said.
Dany turned to in alarm. "Drogo?"
"He rides the khalasar into battle. He must fight the other khal and conquer it," she said with an excited smile. "Do not fear, Khaleesi. Drogo is a great fighter. He shall live. You'll see!"
Dany frowned at Jhiqui. She was unhappy, even angry with Drogo, but she certainly did not wish him dead. This was her first time having to be concerned about her husband riding off into battle. She leveraged herself up and out of the cart, ignoring the protests of Jhiqui to look around. There were still some warriors in the area, but otherwise the tent city was dominated by slaves. They shied away from the sight of her, looking at her with frightful eyes. Before Vaes Dothrak, she had taken the extra effort to see the slaves treated kindly and they had graced her with smiles for it, but now they seemed to avoid her as if she were cursed.
"Khaleesi!" Ser Jorah ran up to her. "You're still too weak to be out of bed."
"Enough of that! I am not so weak that I cannot take a walk. There is time for that now," she retorted. It was a relief to get up out of her nest of pillows and blankets. While there seemed an ever present soreness between her legs, she otherwise felt stiff and she wobbled from the weakness that had developed in her time abed. Staying in the cart for so long had only allowed her to simmer in her thoughts.
So much hate, pain, anger, grief...it's been a week and I am tired of it, she thought. It only seemed to leave her physically exhausted and weak. A wind blew across the camp and she took a moment to inhale the fresh air it brought her, alleviating for a moment the camp smells of sweaty bodies and human waste.
She imagined for a moment of what could have been, striding through the camp with Rhaego swaddled in her arms. Hugging him close and cooing at him as she stretched her legs. He would either coo back at her like a bird or would be fast asleep, his face smooth and soft in contentment in the safety of her arms. Dany doubled up for a moment at the pain in her heart and tears came to her eyes at the crushing sorrow that gripped her.
It's done. He is gone. My little Rhaego will never be, she chastised herself, but the pain still felt all too real. There was an emptiness in her heart that had been carved out specifically for Rhaego, but now that hole was like a gaping wound, still fresh and open to the air.
In the very next thought, Viserys' cruel face rose to her mind and and a sharp hatred carved her insides. I hope a crown is melting over your head for all eternity, she thought. How dare her brother steal her child from her! She had been afraid of him all of her life, but that one act had changed that fear to hatred. She would never forgive her brother for taking Rhaego; her only regret was not being there to see his death.
Jorah hovered nearby, assuring her safety when her own husband couldn't. He seemed far more nervous than he should be. She considered him for a moment and then she said, "Ser Jorah, walk with me." He stepped up instantly and held out his arm, which she took. They walked for a few moments in silence.
"Khaleesi, we should really return before the khal does. He needs to know you're still recovering."
"What do you mean, Ser Jorah? I am the khaleesi. Taking a walk is not a crime."
"The khal may think you're ready for other things, Khaleesi. If you can walk, you can…" His voice trailed off and he gave her a meaningful look.
Dany turned to him in barely disguised alarm. "Drogo would not hurt me," she said, though her sentence finished in a lilt, as though she wasn't quite sure. But he would, she thought, thinking back to those first weeks where he had taken her from behind, caring little for the anguish his nightly ministrations had caused her. She thought she had accepted her role as his wife, but it was becoming clearer to her that she had mistook his affection for the baby as affection for her. Her world felt like it was crashing down and her anger flared once more.
Will I ever be a queen? A real queen like I was born to be? Perhaps you are getting ahead of yourself. You haven't even spoken with him, she thought. But he seemed to be deliberately avoiding her. Would he demand her in his tent tonight once he heard that she had left her sickbed? She steered Ser Jorah back to her tent and he happily escorted her.
"I think it best, Khaleesi, that you rest," Ser Jorah said. "Once he thinks you can ride your horse, he'll think you are ready for another child."
"Thank you, Ser Jorah. I am certainly not quite fully healed," she replied. Judging by the occasionally vicious twinge between her legs, she was certainly not physically ready for their mating. Even more so she was not ready for the idea for another. Just the thought dredged up bitter anger as though another child were already trying to take Rhaego's place.
As soon as Daenerys settled back into her nest of cushions and blankets, she desperately pushed the thought away and drew in deep breaths. Tears pricked her eyes, but she willed them away. I've done enough crying.
Sometime later, she heard the pounding of horse hooves as the warriors rode back into the khalasar. At first she sat bolt upright in fear at the whooping and screaming, until Jhiqui said, "It's okay, Khaleesi. Those are cries of victory. Our khalasar has won the day."
She sighed and lie back down again. However, once the khalasar was in the camp properly, she could hear the wails of despair from women and she sat up once again, troubled. "Those are the slaves?"
"Yes, Khaleesi. If the other khalasar was defeated, then there will be more slaves too," she replied. There was a distance in her eyes and she was suddenly solemn. Dany grabbed her hand and squeezed it in comfort.
They heard a disturbance outside their tent and then quite suddenly a bloodrider appeared and he violently pulled a women into the tent hard enough to make her cry out.
"What is the meaning of this?" Dany barked, trying to move to assist the woman, but she winced once more as she put pressure on a particularly sensitive spot.
"She is a healing witch, Khaleesi," the bloodrider replied, in his native tongue. "Khal Drogo demands she heal you." With that he was gone.
"Jhiqui, Irri, please help her," Dany ordered. Her maids helped the woman to her feet. Dany gasped as she saw the blood running down her leg. "She's injured as well! Be careful."
"I will be fine," the old woman said, shaking herself free of the maids. She was large of girth and rather haggard, but projected a demeanor as tough as nails. "And you are?"
"Daenerys Targaryen, khaleesi to Khal Drogo," She replied, her mouth forming into a grim line. "I don't suppose I need to guess how you came to be hurt."
A muscle worked in the woman's jaw and she nodded stiffly. "Dothraki scum," she hissed.
Dany shushed her and gave her a warning look. "Were you a slave in the other khalasar?"
"Nay. That oaf Khal Otho happened to be near my village. I suppose the temptation was too much for your khal to resist," the woman replied.
Dany inhaled in a shaky breath. How many have suffered because the khalasar creates death and destruction where it goes? How many died today that didn't need to? "What is your name?"
She drew herself up, towering over Dany. "Mirri Maz Duur, I am a maegi of the Lhazareen."
Dany tilted her head. "Haggo called you a 'healing witch.'"
Mirri Maz Duur's lip curled and she shook her head. "He knows naught what he speaks. I have magic that can heal, but more can be done before magic is resorted to. He must've brought me to you for healing then. What puts you abed?"
Dany opened her mouth and felt herself choke on the words. The grief momentarily overwhelmed her and she had to fight to regain her composure. "A stillbirth. It still hurts," she replied with a clenched jaw, struggling to keep her emotions in control. "I fear Drogo will think he can take me soon. I don't want that. Please."
She thought she saw Mirri Maz Duur's face seemed to soften in the dim light under the canvas, but it disappeared as Drogo pulled back the tent flap. Dany started, having been too focused on Mirri and peered into his face. In the tent, his eyes were too dark to read and he appeared as emotionless as ever as he took her in. He then pointed at Dany and spoke abruptly in the common tongue, "Heal her."
"I will do what I can," Mirri Maz Duur said in a clipped tone. She gasped as he slapped her and a trickle of blood fell out of the corner of her mouth.
"Drogo, stop," Dany cried out, leaping to her feet before she could think about it and wincing at the sharp it brought her. When she looked up, she found him eying her sharply and shivered as his eyes carefully studied her like he was assessing the quality of a horse. His broodmare, she thought, her lips thinning with anger. "She has already agreed to heal me!"
He snorted and turned away, the tent flap falling behind him.
She made a grab for him and missed. "Drogo, wait!" She followed him out of the tent, trying to move delicately and he rounded on her. "Why are you doing this?"
He took a step closer and bared his teeth in a silent growl. "Know your place," he replied.
Dany cursed herself for recoiling against him, but then her eyes slid over his body and she saw the blood dripping down his side in an open wound. "You're hurt."
He spoke a soft curse in the Dothraki tongue. "Nothing. I am strong."
"You're in need of healing," she said.
"I am strong. The Khal of Khals. Heal!" With that, he stormed away and Dany was left staring hopelessly after him. She stiffly walked back to the tent and was helped back into bed. She felt the tears gathering in her eyes once more, but she willed them not to fall.
What's done is done. I am his wife, his khaleesi, and I must please him, she told herself, but somewhere deep inside, she yearned for more. She still remembered the tenderness with which he had in his face when he had presented her gift of the silver mare. When they stopped at nearby cities, he made a point to bring her gifts and smiled at her wonder at them. Despite becoming pregnant quite soon after their marriage, they continued their lovemaking. She thought perhaps the child inside her required more seed, but Irri had assured her that the child had all it needed. Khal Drogo continued to take her for the pleasure and by that point she had started to enjoy their joinings and it made her swell with giddiness to know that he had found such pleasure in her.
Perhaps when I am fully healed, his kindness will return to me, she thought. If she was correct and his affection was still only for the child inside her, she could still take advantage of that. Surely she wasn't doomed to lose all of her children. Their only threat had been dealt with.
The days leaked away as they continued across the Dothraki Sea. Dany was irritable from overwhelming boredom as she was forced to sit in the cart. A few days prior she had attempted to ride the silver mare, but the instant she put pressure between her legs, she cried out in pain. So she adjusted to a side saddle position, but there was still pain and at some point it became too much for her and she staggered off her horse, holding her reins and at least attempting to walk alongside. Drogo would have none of it and forced her back into the cart, having one of his bloodriders haul her back like an errant child. The notion incensed her.
The rift she had sensed growing between them only seemed to be pulling further apart. He still refused to see her. Well, she would not go crawling to him. She was a dragon. They bowed to no one.
She turned some of her empty hours into studying the dragon eggs. Riding in the back of the cart, she made the effort to sit near the edge so that the eggs would properly catch the light of the sun. They had otherwise been hidden away in a trunk since her wedding. The scales of each egg glistened, catching the light half a hundred times. For the black one, the red swirls seemed to gain a life of their own and the gold on the cream colored one glittered as if it were real gold. Was it her imagination or did she see a shadow move inside? She held the egg up closer to her eyes, but it remained cold and dead. With a disappointed sigh, she set it back down.
Quite suddenly her cart stopped moving and she frowned, glancing up at the sun. It was still high in the sky and they usually only stopped about two hours before the sun set.
"Khaleesi!"
She glanced around to see Ser Jorah galloping from the front of the column. "Khaleesi, it's Khal Drogo."
"What about him?"
"He's fallen."
She felt the breath stop in her chest. "How?"
"He fell from his horse. Come quickly!"
She breathed again, afraid for a moment that Drogo was dead, but falling from his horse wasn't any better. He was the most graceful rider she had ever met. Nothing short of death would allow him to fall in front of the khalasar. Ser Jorah held out his hand and she took it. Instead of straddling the horse, she sat side saddle again and winced once more at the pain. He hustled the horse to the front. Drogo's bloodriders were standing around him in deep discussion.
"What's wrong?" Dany asked, jumping down from the horse.
She was surprised when her question was met with contemptible looks.
"He fell from his horse, Khaleesi," Qotho replied his face dark with anger.
Dany fell to Drogo's side and pulled him over so that he lie on his back. His eyes were shut in dream, but there was no mistaking the red lines that ran under the skin by the angry wound in his shoulder. She clenched her teeth in frustration. Stubborn fool, she thought with a little affection. She glanced back up at the bloodriders and commanded, "We make camp here. Erect the tent."
"We don't listen to you, even if you are khaleesi," Qotho snarled back.
"He fell, Khaleesi," Cohollo said, a peculiar light in his eyes. "He commands us no more. And neither do you."
Dany drew herself up. "We make camp. Erect Drogo's tent. Tell them I commanded it."
They laughed. "The khaleesi who fell out of favor when she lost her whelp commands it?"
She felt more than noticed Ser Jorah place his hand on his sword, but she stepped closer and said in a voice low enough so that only they could hear, "Khal Drogo is not dead yet and I am still your khaleesi. You will spread the word we're making camp. Qotho, find the maegi. Bring her to me."
Once they broke, Dany returned to her spot over Drogo, whispering soothing words to him, though he pawed weakly at the air as though fighting against some imaginary foe. The slaves erected the tent and put Drogo abed.
Qotho had Mirri Maz Duur by the arm and he bodily dragged her into the tent. She struggled against his strength but she may as well have been struggling against a horse. He took little notice of her and shoved her at the khaleesi. "Your precious witch," he said.
She rushed to Mirri Maz Duur's aid and then spoke to her in hushed tones, thanking her for her healing and then asked her for her talents once more, gesturing to Drogo. She examined him closely, peeling back his eyelids, checking his forehead for fever, and then examining the wound, finally shaking her head. The maegi insisted that he could not be saved.
"There must be something that you can do. I will free you if you save him. Please."
The maegi's face grew dark. "There is a way, but…"
"What is it?"
"A spell. A dark and heavy spell. Blood magic from Asshai."
Dany gasped, her eyes widening. "But it will save him?"
Mirri Maz Duur studied her for a moment and then said, "It is blood magic. That is never a sure thing. The cost may be higher than you think."
"We have gold, jewels, food..."
The maegi gave a dry laugh. "Not goods, Khaleesi. It's blood magic. It will require blood. A life for a life."
Dany froze. "Who's life? Mine?"
She gave an odd, jerking shake of her head. "No."
Dany nodded. "See that it's done."
She gave Mirri Maz Duur the authority to command her maids and the nearby slaves to her whim. Ser Jorah hovered nearby as they watched the women go about their tasks.
"You walk a dangerous line, Khaleesi. Khal Drogo is dead; you should flee."
"I'm not going anywhere, Ser Jorah," she said in a hard voice. "He's all I have left."
"If you don't leave, Drogo's bloodriders will take you back to Vaes Dothrak to be among the crones. That is your lot in life."
Dany bristled at his words. Me? A crone in Vaes Dothrak? She thought back to those women, many of them old and bent, their eyes cold and calculating. But they were stuck in the middle of the Dothraki Sea, prisoners in that dusty old city. All of her life, she had only known prison, but marrying Drogo had, in a sense freed her, and she now lusted for more.
Jorah seemed to be following the direction of her thoughts and said, "That is why you must leave! You're not alone. There is the other dragon."
"Do you honestly believe he'll welcome me with open arms?" A small part of Dany honestly hoped that she could count on that. Or was he just another Viserys? She wasn't ready to take her chance on the generosity of someone she didn't know. Whatever her relationship with Drogo was, this life was familiar, knowable. She had to save him!
"It is a grave sin to murder kin and he was raised a Stark. He should act just like a Stark."
"Lord Stark was friend to the usurper who murdered my brother and took the throne."
"And that selfsame Lord Stark turned on Robert Baratheon and helped the rightful king unseat him. You have a place to go, Khaleesi. You were meant for more than to just be another crone in Vaes Dothrak, but we must leave now."
"No! The maegi has already agreed to save Drogo's life. I must believe," she said. "Thank you for your advice, Ser Jorah. I suggest you fetch your armor."
"Khaleesi," he intoned quietly and bowed, stepping back from her.
She was brought back to the task at hand when Mirri Maz Duur said, "Khaleesi, we will need his horse."
"Why?"
"The blood. The blood is necessary."
Dany worried her lip. A Dothraki's horse was sacred to them. They were to only ever be parted by incidental death and then, in the case of the rider's death, they were to ascend together as one to ride the heavens. He could always find another horse. She nodded and gave the order.
It was not long after that Mirri Maz Duur ushered them out of the tent. "Do not enter." With a finality she closed the flap.
"This is not to be done!"
Dany turned to see Qotho, Cohollo, and Haggo behind her, their arakhs in their hands.
"I am the khaleesi. It will be done as I command!" Two Dothraki, Quaro and Rakharo, ordered to stand guard at the tent flap tensed at the clear threat. Jorah, who had stepped away, now stepped to her side once more, his own hand on his sword.
"We will not stand for this. The Blood Magic is forbidden. We kill the witch."
"No! She can bring your Khal back, she will bring Drogo back," Dany said, nearly choked with tension. There was a deadly stillness to the air, then suddenly split by the low chanting murmurings of the maegi.
"Khal Drogo is dead," Cohollo said.
"I forbid you from killing the maegi!"
"You have no command over us. Not anymore, Khaleesi," Qotho said and stepped towards the tent.
"Stop him," Dany shouted.
Qotho reached for the tent flap, but Quaro and Rakharo pulled their own arakhs and swiped at him. He nimbly leapt back, swinging his own blade back. Quaro and Qotho's blades met with a singing scrape of steel. Rakharo tried to take off Qotho's foot, but Cohollo leapt forward, slicing into Rakharo's side. He gave a ragged cry and swung back, Cohollo only barely ducked in time to avoid the blades.
Daenerys stared at the fight in mounting horror. No, no, this was supposed to spare death, not create more! Jhiqui, Doreah, and Irri hugged themselves and whimpered in terror as the fight raged on. One them reached for her, to pull her closer. The touch of skin was enough to startle Dany and she glanced around to see the khalasar was not stopping. It was already breaking camp once more and moving on, heedless of the violence in the middle.
"What's happening?" Dany asked breathlessly.
"Khal Drogo is deemed unfit, Khaleesi. He fell from his horse. He is no longer capable of leading," Jhiqui hissed at her and there was an urgent fear on her face. "They will not wait. His power is broken."
"B-but he is not dead."
"He is dying. The use of forbidden Blood Magic will not endear him to the khalasar," Jhiqui trembled together with the other girls and dissolved into broken prayers once more.
In the meantime, Ser Jorah engaged with Haggo. The old knight was already bleeding on his arm and there was blood soaking part of his shirt. Rakharo lie propped against one of the tent poles, but still alive. He had apparently made a gash in Cohollo's throat and the old bloodrider sat propped up against the tent, desperately attempting to keep the fount of blood pouring down his chest under his skin. Qotho and Quaro still danced, though both men had no less than half a dozen gashes each marring their bodies.
Through the commotion, Mirri Maz Duur chanted. Though the shadow was faint, they could see her swaying, dancing, and chanting in a guttural voice. Dany gasped as she thought she saw other figures moving inside the tent.
"Khaleesi, I don't think we should be here," Doreah cried. "Come with us!"
"No, I must see to Drogo."
"Please, Khaleesi," Irri wept. Though her and the other girls helplessly reached out to her, they knew better than the drag her away.
Quaro's head was nearly ripped from his neck and his blood spilled the ground. Ser Jorah found himself victorious over Haggo, who was lying limp on the ground with his arm severed, yet more blood running unchecked from a body. Qotho and Ser Jorah paid him no attention as they circled each other. The old knight had taken a cut in the head and blood ran down one side of his face. Qotho was baring his teeth and panting like an animal, his left knee moving stiffly from a cut it had taken earlier.
Daenerys' heart was in her throat, torn between glancing at the monstrous shadows she saw racing up the sides of the tent and Ser Jorah defending her as she had commanded. Suddenly, an unearthly scream rent the sky. Her maids shrieked and shrunk against her. A shiver ran through her body and she thought her hair stood on end in terror, but she made the effort to control her voice.
"What in the world was that?"
"It's the death cry of a horse, Khaleesi," Jhiqui said between sobs.
She shivered as the scream started again, the sound filled with duress and terror.
"What could be happening to it?" She whispered, not really wanting to know the answer.
"It's bad. A bad omen, Khaleesi," Jhiqui said, shivering so violently in fear Dany could hear teeth chattering together.
A human scream rent the air and Daenerys turned to see Qotho writhing on the ground, clutching at his intestines that had spilled out with a swipe by Ser Jorah. The old knight was bleeding quite heavily, but he staggered over to Khaleesi and fell to his knees.
"As you co-commanded, Kah-khaleesi. So-so I obeyed," he panted.
"Irri, Doreah, Jhiqui, please help him. Treat his wounds as best you can. We'll have Mirri Maz Duur heal him when she is finished." The girls seemed happy with something to distract them from the deep, tonal chanting, but Dany was drawn to it once more as smoky shadows danced with her, taking no clear form or shape. At the same time, the horse continued its tortured cries, which seemed to perturb the rest of the khalasar and they booted their own horses into a trot to escape the madness. She saw Pono riding ahead, his sword held high in the sky.
It was a few hours before the chanting in the tent finally died down, and in that time, the majority of the khalasar had ridden away, celebrating Pono and Jhoqo as new khals. There were few warriors left to do her bidding, most of which were from her own khas and the rest were slaves. Daenerys struggled to keep up appearances. The entire night had been a tense affair, between the bloodletting in front of Drogo's tent, and listening to the dual chords of Mirri Maz Duur chanting and the unearthly strains of the dying horse, Dany wished nothing more than to curl up in the shelter of her own tent. But she willed her exhaustion away and remained standing outside.
Mirri Maz Duur finally pulled the tent flap open and staggered outside. She appeared even more haggard than before and her limbs shook from the effort of conducting the spell.
Daenerys was by her side in an instant. "Maegi, did you succeed?"
She inhaled deeply, then looked into Dany's eyes and gave her a tired smile and a nod. "It is done. Your khal lives."
Dany felt her heart soar with the news. "Jhiqui, Irri, please tend to her. Make sure her needs are taken care of. You have my endless thanks," she said. Mirri Maz Duur and her maids fell by the wayside as she focused on the tent. Slowly, she walked over to it and carefully pulled back the tent.
Khal Drogo lay on his back, his eyes staring into the canvas above.
"Drogo? My sun and stars?" She dropped by his side and examined the wound. It was now a faint scar, as though it had healed over years ago. She smiled in satisfaction and peered back into Drogo's face, planting a kiss on his cheek. He didn't even twitch. Slowly, her smile faded away and she shook his shoulder. "Drogo, are you awake? Please answer me!"
He only stared into the canvas, unmoving.
She peered deeper into his face. His eyes lacked a certain light. They simply stared at nothing like how she imagined a corpse looked. She recoiled, her heart in her throat and her hand began to shake. "Drogo, please. Don't leave me alone," she whispered. She lay her head on his chest, but it only disturbed her to hear his heart pounding so strongly and yet for him to appear so lifelessly. She turned to the tent flap, her stare boring to where she imagined the maegi to be breaking her fast. Her hands continued to shake, but with barely contained rage rather than fear. That witch! I will see her pay for this insult, she thought.
Daenerys took a moment to to get her anger under control and then stormed out of the tent. The slaves in the vicinity scattered before her at her rage as she finally located Mirri Maz Duur and approached her. "Maegi! What have you done?"
The haggard woman glanced up lazily from her meal of hard bread with fermented mare's milk. "As you asked, Khaleesi. I have saved him."
"He is not as he was before! He is alive, but he shows no life. He simply stares and breathes. This is not what I asked for."
Did she imagine the smirk on Mirri Maz Duur's face? "You also asked to no longer be taken. He can hurt you no longer like that. He will hurt no one anymore."
"I asked to not be taken while I healed! You elicited a much deeper meaning from my words than was there."
"Perhaps you should speak more clearly in the future, Khaleesi. One less khal to take the world by storm."
"You fool. Spoken as one ignorant to the Dothraki culture. You've done little more than fracture the khalasar, but it is not broken. There were two more khals made last night while you were busy doing your little dance, ensuring Khal Drogo lay still as death," Daenerys said. Though her very anger shook her body, she remained composed.
For a moment there was a flicker of a troubled thought on Mirri Maz Duur's face, but it disappeared in the next instant and she sighed heavily. "So be it. There is still one less bloody murderer in the world and I shall take that for what it is."
"You can take that for your death sentence," Daenerys said. "Bind her."
She felt no small amount of relief as her khas moved to obey her. After so much mutiny from people she had originally trusted, it was a heady feeling to be heeded once more. I must not falter, I must not waver. The people left are depending upon me. Yet the instant she thought it, she nearly had a misstep, as her new worries began to surface. She steered herself back to the tent where Drogo lay.
The first thing she noticed was his beautiful black hair near wild and free from its ornate braid. It had come partially undone in his fall from his horse and the movement to the tent. She gingerly touched it, having never been so free before. It was coarse but fine, not at all as soft as she had imagined. She glanced briefly at his face, but it remained as unmoved as the first time she found him. Carefully, she began to braid. It was a servant's job, but it served as a suitable distraction as she carefully worked with it.
Never again will you mount me, she thought, glancing at his face. She was surprised at the mixture of relief and regret that thought alone brought up. She thought back on those first nights in her marriage and how she felt degraded, eventually learning the pleasure in the act. Then instead of rushing to her comfort at the loss of their babe, he had scorned her and showed her distance, seeming only interested in planting another child in her belly for the sake of his legacy than because he had ever cared for her. I get my wish; I will no longer be a broodmare, she thought with some finality.
A voice at the tent brought her out of her thoughts.
"Khaleesi?" Ser Jorah said.
She pulled it open and found him bowed slightly. His wounds were now wrapped in fresh linen and the blood was wiped from his face. It was a relief to see him well. "Khaleesi, I came as soon as I heard. The maegi went back on her word?"
"Yes, she did. And for that she will pay with her life."
He opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated.
"What is it you wish to say?"
"It's your mare," he said. "She was found dead."
Dany stiffened. "The others would dare kill my mare?"
"It was not them. She was mutilated. Half of her was covered with black scales and her skin was around her like it had sloughed off."
She gasped and her anger returned. "That vile maegi cost me a great deal. I will make her suffer. I swear it."
"I am sorry, Khaleesi. What are we to do now?"
She sighed. "Allow me to give it some thought."
"Forgive me, Khaleesi, but we are in the middle of the desert with little in the way of supplies. We don't have the luxury to wait."
"I am your queen now, am I not?"
"Yes, Khaleesi, you are still my queen."
"I made one decision in haste and it cost me everything else I had. Give me the time to think this one through. I will not lead us astray this time. Now, have the dragon eggs brought to me," she replied in a cold voice.
"As you command, Khaleesi."
The khas brought the chest with her eggs cushioned in the middle. You are the very last things I have left, she thought. She caressed the black one lovingly as she pulled it out and then dropped it, startled at the warmth that seemed to emanate from it. She picked it up immediately and turned the egg for cracks or flaws, but it remained unblemished despite the fall. And still she thought she felt a warmth infused in its scales. She set it down gingerly and reached for the other egg, feeling the same peculiar warmth.
Frequently during her pregnancy, particularly late into it, she would keep the dragon eggs close, feeling like they gave her son life. It was a ridiculous thought, but she couldn't seem to shake it. She also thought it might familiarize him with his dragon heritage at the same time. Now, again, she turned to the eggs and nestled them each in the spot between Drogo's chest and his arms. Perhaps with this newfound warmth, they might somehow fetch Drogo from the dark confines he was imprisoned in for she knew his soul had yet to find release. The Dothraki felt only a pyre could free their souls from their physical body so that they may ride the heavens.
Ser Jorah's questions brought home a sense of urgency. They couldn't stay here for long lest they perish in this wasteland and she had no intention of simply fading away. She thought back to the other dragon who awaited across the sea. If her dreams were correct, he was just as eager to have her back where she truly belonged as she was to be there. It was a direction at least and in this time of uncertainty she would be a fool not to take it.
She turned to look at Drogo one more time. You have one day to return to me, my sun and stars, and then we have to move on. I have to move on.
Drogo had not changed by the next morning. She revisited Mirri Maz Duur again. Despite being chained by her hands and her feet, she still stared up at Daenerys with amusement.
"You can change this. I demand you change Drogo back to what he was."
Mirri Maz Duur chuckled. "I can no more change this than I can keep the sun from rising in the morning, not that I'd ever do that. The world will be better off with one less khal."
"Then you shall die by those words," Dany reiterated and left her once more to tend to Drogo.
He remained just as he was, staring blankly at the ceiling of the canvas tent. The dragon eggs also remained unchanged and inert at his side.
"I tried what I could, Drogo," she said to him. "I see now that you must be free. Forgive me." She pulled out one of the many decorative pillows and held it over his face. He did not struggle and she felt her heart ache. She had thought perhaps trying to take his life would once more bring his fighting spirit to the fore, but he remained unmoved by his own impending doom. She's not sure how long she held that pillow over, but when she finally removed it, she could no longer see the steady beat of his pulse in his neck. When she bent down to give him one last kiss, a pair of tears fluttered out from her eyes to splash his face, and then she wiped her eyes dry.
I have cried enough for the both of us. Now I must be the khal, the queen I was born to be. She stood once more and stepped out of the tent.
"Come to me! Hear me!"
Slowly, the remaining slaves, her maidens, the last of her khas, and Ser Jorah gravitated towards her.
"Drogo has passed, but I am still your khaleesi. I will retain his place as khal," she declared.
"Khaleesi cannot be khal," Rakharo replied.
She ignored him. "Rakharo, Jhogo, Aggo. I raise you to be my bloodriders, my kos."
"This cannot be! We will be no bloodrider to you," Aggo shouted back, the other two nodding with him.
Again, she ignored him. "Drogo needs to be sent. Build a pyre with what little wood we have left. Mirri Maz Duur, the maegi, the one who killed your khal shall be tied to it. Only death can pay for life. You have until sundown." Her new kos stomped away cursing, but she paid them little heed.
Daenerys oversaw the construction of the pyre. Her maids pleaded with her at times to get her to return to her tent, but she refused. Finally, when Drogo was placed atop the pyre, Dany scooped up the eggs and placed them at his side once more.
"A mere fire cannot kill me. You will not hear me scream," the maegi said.
"I will have your scream and the fire will have your life." The maegi continued to speak at her, but Daenerys merely turned back to the assembled crowd without listening.
Ser Jorah swallowed anxiously as she approached him, then fell onto one knee and begged, "Khaleesi, please. I know not what you have planned, but I will not stand by and allow you to throw yourself onto Drogo's pyre. You are worth more than that."
She placed a hand on his cheek and smiled at him. "I do not intend to die, Ser Jorah. I am a dragon after all."
"Not even the best dragons were fireproof."
"Trust me," she said and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. Then she turned to see the sun had finally set on the horizon. She gazed up at the stars and then her breath caught as it fell upon the red light of a smudged comet against the sky. That wasn't there before... "It's time. Light the pyre."
Oil had been drizzled across the pyre and it blazed into light at the touch of a flame. Mirri Maz Duur began chanting as the flames crept toward her. Once her clothes started smoldering, her chanting cut off into a wail. Dany stepped forward, drawn to it like a moth. She flinched at the heat that roared in her face, but once she felt accustomed to it she stepped forward once more. She hadn't even reached the flames before her top burst into flames and she shrugged it off.
I am the dragon. I will live as the dragon, she willed and shut her eyes as she was engulfed by the flames. The rest of her clothes now burned upon her and her hair became alight. For a moment, she imagined she must appear as a creature of fire with flame for hair. She inhaled and choked on the smoke as it burned her throat, but then inhaled again. Dragons breathe flame and do not choke on it, so will I.
Suddenly a great cracking sound rent the night and a shower of sparks flew as one of the egg shells burst. In another moment, the other egg shell exploded, showering the pyre in sparks and shell debris.
She sat at the foot of the pyre, opposite Mirri Maz Duur's body. With her eyes still closed, she raised her arms. I am one with the dragons and the dragons are one with me. She felt her heart soar as tiny claws bit into her arms and the dragons crawled closer to her.
This time, when she dreamed, there was fire and sparks amidst the billowing smoke. She could see Rhaegar once more with Rhaego cradled in his arms. His voice was an excited whisper as he said, "A true dragon. There has not been a true dragon in three hundred years. You are the fire."
Once more, the shadowy figure of the other dragon walked towards her, parting the smoke in his wake. "Daenerys, it is time." He held out his hand to her. She hesitated at first, then reached for it and he dissolved into smoke once more.
She awoke with a start and glanced around her in confusion. The remains of the pyre continued to smoke around her, but there was otherwise no evidence left of Drogo or Mirri Maz Duur. A tiny clawed wing dug into her arm and she looked over to see a black dragon peering up at her, cocking its head as it seemed to evaluate her. A biting pain at her breast caused her to look down and find the cream and gold dragon suckling at her breast, like the baby that should have been there. "You are my babies now," she whispered.
Slowly, she stood up from the rubble. The people around her stopped what they were doing and gasped as she stepped forward, stiff but unharmed. The slaves fell to their hands and knees before her. Her kos and Ser Jorah Mormont knelt as well.
She drew herself up, unashamed of her nakedness. The gold and cream dragon turned from the leaking breast to hiss at the people around her, but the black dragon perched on her shoulder and raised an unearthly cry that had last been heard one hundred and fifty years ago.
High above her, the red comet shone.
Author's Notes: Thank you, everyone, for reading! I hope you enjoyed that chapter!
So, if you'll notice, that out of a batch of ten, Dany's chapters happened to fall on the numbers ending in '5' for the first two and it happened again with this one. That was coincidental. I think that'll be the last I manage to get it that way. Now that this part of her story is out of the way, I do hope to write more of her in the future.
Unfortunately, I will be putting this fic on hiatus today. I'm feeling a bit burned out and I need to refresh my creative juices. I will be back with the next chapter on April 20th, which should be the weekend after the new season finally airs. Fingers crossed that the season will be great! See you all then!
