Daenerys Targaryen was in a strange point in her life. She couldn’t think of any of her years that were easy, but here she was practically sold to barbarians to be the bride of their leader. Passed to him like a coin to buy his loyalty to her family.
The Dothraki Horselord Khal Drogo was not what you would call an ideal husband, to the point where she would barely call him a husband at all. He protected her like he would a prized possession, and used her in the same way. He treated her roughly, particularly when he was was craving sex. There was certainly no one in the Dothrakis that would stop him, and he certainly didn’t mind some struggle from the smaller foreign woman. The first few nights spent in his tent had been miserable. One more tragedy to top off her life, she supposed.
Fortunately, she had some small solace in her handmaiden Doreah. She had been a gift for their loveless wedding, and the helpful attendant had been far more gentle with her than her husband. She had, in fact, been specifically chosen for that purpose. Doreah was far more experienced with men than Daenerys, and when they were alone together, she would teach her the ways of lovemaking. The silver-haired wife was quick to pick up on her methods after sharing many an orgasmic “training sessions” with her.
Daenerys’ bonding with Doreah had become her saving grace. It was hard to consider the earliest nights with Drogo anything but rape, but she had shown her own talents for the act that had caught his attention. She had some degree of control now, tempting her husband with new positions and tempting words and glances. They made him slow and allow Daenerys some direction of the act. He was by no means a gentle lover, but the rape felt more like simply rough sex now. She had even orgasmed with him, one of the last things she imagined sharing with the man she was forced to bear.
For all of Daenerys’ affection for Doreah, it was another handmaiden that was still spoiling her improving mood. Ziggi her other aid and a former… partner of Drogo’s. Daenerys was, despite all her expectations, starting to grow attached to Drogo, and the servant girl seemed to smile a bit too knowingly at her husband and her touches lingered too long for her liking. Daenerys made it a point to keep Ziggi busy with one task or another to keep her away from her husband. The fact was that in the dark and twisted way her life went, Drogo was one of the best things to happen to her. So she kept sending Ziggi out for food or drink or whatever chore she could think of at the moment.
Ziggi did not fail to notice the unspoken feud between them. They were alone the night that things escalated too far. Daenerys was in her horse skin tent, fairly well furnished for such a primitive structure. Ziggi was at the fire near the entrance of the tent, boiling water for her Daenerys’ supper. The servant’s long dark hair hung over her sun-browned shoulders, veiling the pretty face that had tempted her husband.
Daenerys watched her work with a scowl, soaking in a much-needed bath at the one side of the tent. She finally tossed a small piece of dried fruit at Ziggi, the first genuine shot fired in their rivalry. “What’s keeping you?” she demanded with a sneer on her face. “You should have had it ready twice as fast as this.”
Ziggi snapped her head up to glare as her, briskly fixing her hair where the fruit had bounced off. “I’m only going as fast as the fire,” she hissed. She had, perhaps, been dragging her feet in the preparation just to get back at the obnoxious foreigner. It felt obvious to her that their traded queen was weak and unfit for the Dothraki, and especially for Drogo. “Perhaps you would do better making it yourself, my witch queen?”
“What did you call me?” Daenerys demanded. Her position alongside Drogo had given her some much-needed confidence, and she sat up to glare at her envied servant.
“I called you what you are!” Ziggi insisted as she stood up aggressively. “A milk-blooded witch that the Great Khal keeps as a pathetic pet to fuck when he’s bored.”
Daenerys’ cheeks flushed with outrage before she mustered a twisted grin. “Is that jealousy I hear for your Khaleesi? What insufferable things did you do in his bed that made Drogo repulsed enough to wed an outsider?”
Ziggi snapped as she grabbed the stewpot off the fire. It had just come to a boil, but she stormed at Daenerys and dumped the pot over her head. The silver-haired Khaleesi shrieked and jumped as it splashed over her skin, the minimal clothing of the Dothraki doing almost nothing to stop the scalding water. If she were so furious herself, Ziggi may have noted that there wasn’t so much as a blemish on Daenerys’ skin from the boiling water.
“You ungrateful, stupid horse-fucker!” Daenerys seethed all the same. She climbed out of the tub, not caring about her shame or the cool afternoon air on her skin so much as her fury. The naked and furious Daenerys grabbed her disobedient handmaiden by the hair and punched her in the face before she could figure out what to expect. The silver-haired woman was no warrior by trade or experience, but the blow still left her target reeling. Daenerys looked to her fist with a brief smile of pride, but Ziggi did not see the matter as settled. She snarled savagely and threw herself into Daenerys, bringing them both to the ground as they rolled and shoved their way around the tent.
Ziggi ended up on top of their tumbling mass, grabbing and pulling upward on Daenerys’ curled hair. The queen screamed in pain as each of the long strands pulled at her scalp, scratching and grabbing at Ziggi to try forcing her to relent. She tore off a piece of the handmaiden’s top, baring one of her breasts and leaving some scratches down her darker skin. Ziggi growled in pain through grit teeth before she punched her queen in the face, avenging the first blow of their fight. Daenerys reel from the punch, raising a hand to shield her face. Ziggi just kept her grip on her handful of silver hair and used it to slam her mistress’ head into the dirt over and over.
Daenerys suffered through several of the harsh landings before slapping Ziggi across the face with all her might. The servant girl fell off of her, tearing a few strands of hair out with her. Daenerys didn’t spare herself the time to cope with her spinning head and stinging scalp. Instead she forced herself to stumble after the rebellious servant and grabbed her top, tearing it off in one hard yank that hurled it out of the tent. The naked queen followed through on her rampage and grabbed Ziggi by her breasts, dragging her fingernails across her tan and vulnerable skin.
“You fucking milk cow!” Ziggi shrieked, her eyes watering from the jarring pain that ran through her chest. She kicked at Daenerys’ legs and scratched at her wrists as the women’s eyes locked, sharing their hateful, outraged glares. Ziggi spit in Daenerys’ face, turning her queen’s expression of hate into disgust as it ran down her nose and into her mouth. It proved enough of a distraction for the servant to shove Daenerys off and crashing her back into the tub she’d been bathing in.
Ziggi rose to her feet and kicked Daenerys hard in the stomach, knocking the breath out of the silver-haired royal’s lips with a single graceless grunt. The barbaric servant followed with a knee to one of Daenerys’ breasts, getting another choked cry of pain from her mistress. Ziggi grabbed the edge of the tub for leverage as she drew back another knee, intent on repeating the move on the opposite breast. Daenerys surprised her by grabbing Ziggi’s other hip and lifting it up over her shoulder, flipping the servant out of the last of her clothes as well as sending her splashing into the tub.
Ziggi rose back above the used bathwater, still sputtering and wiping her eyes when Daenerys sent a hooking fist into the edge of her servant’s breast. She grunted hard as the knuckles dug into both her ribs and the tender muscles behind her scratched up chest. “You savage, man-stealing cunt,” Daenerys fumed as she grabbed her handmaiden roughly by the hair. “I’ll teach you your fucking place!” She shoved Ziggi’s face under the water, bending her over double as if expecting to keep her under there until she was out of air.
Ziggi grabbed and pushed at the edges of the tub, but couldn’t overpower her mistress for more than a moment, just enough to suck up more air before she was shoved back under. She changed tactics at last by thrusting her elbow backward, connecting with Daenerys’ chin and making her teeth crack together. Daenerys reeled and held her jaw as Ziggi burst up from the water, pouncing on her recklessly enough to knock the entire tub over in the process. The two women landed in the resulting mud, Ziggi on top of her mistress as she leaned in to savagely bite into her rival’s flesh. Her teeth dug in somewhere between Daenerys’ breast and neck, making it unclear which she was aiming for when she dove in, but she locked on like a dog either way. Daenerys’ scream went from pain to outrage as she brought her hands around Ziggi’s head, squeezing her temples while she jammed her thumb nails at her eyes. Ziggi shook her head, too busy dodging the gouging attack to really do much damage to Daenerys’ body when the voice boomed through the tent.
“Stop it, the both of you!” Drogo grabbed both women by the arm and lifted them to their feet, holding them apart from each other.
“She struck first!” Ziggi accused, struggling uselessly against the bigger male Dothraki.
“You lie!” Daenerys snapped. “What do you call the pot you-?”
“I don’t care!” Drogo cut in again. Both women fell silent, but glared at each other to make it clear they wanted to argue further. Drogo looked between them, picking up on the lingering hostility between the two stubborn women. “I’ve enough to deal with without you two squabbling.” He shoved the two of them towards the front of the tent. “You’ll fight to the death and be done with it.”
Drogo and every available Dothraki were soon gathered around the two women. The sun was low on the open valley, not quite ready to set without witnessing the fight to come. Ziggi and Daenerys were still nude from their prior struggle, their dark and silver pubic mounds on display as Drogo plainly laying out the rules for his lovers. The fight would be to the death, but there would be no weapons and no attacks to the face. Whoever was going to survive would remain his lover, so he did not want the winner’s lovely face to be terribly ruined. If this was how their disputes were settled, Daenerys could imagine pretty clearly what happened if you broke the rules. Drogo wasn’t much for creativity, even in his violence.
“At least you can die like a Dothraki, you imposter witch!” Ziggi spat at Daenerys. The servant was slightly bigger than her mistress, but the different wasn’t insurmountable. Daenerys had been through beatings and suffering the likes of which she had never imagined, and this would be more of the same. She wasn’t about to lose the one decent thing to happen to her in such a long time.
“I won’t let you have him, you uppity whore,” Daenerys called back. She had been expecting some signal to start, her arms down but ready at her side. Ziggi simply gave a cry like a feral scream and charged straight for her opponent, requiring no such cue to tell her when to fight. Ziggi’s sudden charge let her grab Daenerys by her arms and drive a knee into her mistress’ stomach. Daenerys grunted as the wind was knocked out of her and Ziggi threw her down to the ground with a quick but rough motion of her hips and arms. As Daenerys landed, her pale and naked skin met the dry grass like a hundred brittle little daggers. Ziggi’s relentless attack continued as she landed bodily on top of the silver-haired royal, making it that much harder to regain her breath.
“A milk-blooded weakling in the end,” Ziggi snarled through a twisted grin. She palmed Daenerys’ breasts and squeezed roughly, her fingernails scraping over the pale skin as she started to thrust her hips against her rival’s. She wanted the entitled foreigner to suffer through her hopeless fight, and the pressure of her groin not only helped hold her down, but dragged her dark pubic hair and full, feminine labia dominantly over hers.
Daenerys winced from the breast claw, but gasped as she felt her opponent’s sensual pin. It was startling and a disgusting sort of erotic (one did get rather used to rough sex after spending so much time with Drogo), but she was mostly surprised by how… plain it was. Doreah had taught her over a dozen positions, but this handmaiden approached her head on and with such a simple pace to her grinding. From what little she’d picked up about Dothraki sex, it was rough, but predictable. She had an edge!
Daenerys thrust an elbow at the inside of Ziggi’s arm, knocking one of her hands from her breasts. It bore a few shallow but stinging red scratches already, even if the vicious handmaiden was practically toying with her so far. Daenerys’ hands went to Ziggi’s breast, squeezing them at a better angle to attack the flesh and muscle of brunette servant’s tits. It wasn’t exactly how Doreah had shown her how to use it, but it did the job as Ziggi gave a startled gasp of her own when her jaw dropped open. Doreah pushed things even further when she hooked her thumbs to drag their nails like little knives over Ziggi’s areolas before letting them scale slowly up her hard nipples.
Ziggi clearly hesitated as some of the crowd of Dothraki started to cheer and shout at the sexualized duel. When Ziggi tried to pull back for a harder thrust, Daenerys caught her in her trap. She swung her legs up around the brunette’s hips and rolled with her, ending up on top in a trick similar to the one she’d used to surprise Drogo several nights ago. Ziggi rolled sharply to one side, but Daenerys rolled with it using her shoulder to end up on top once again.
“All that talk out of you and you still can’t fuck worth a damn,” Daenerys taunted. Ziggi’s reply was to grab the silvery hair bobbing in front of her and pulling down on it. The royal fighter winced at the pain, but had withstood similar from her sex with Drogo. What was new to her was when Ziggi brought it down alongside her own hair, tangling the brown with the silver in a few quick but effective knots. Ziggi then shoved Daenerys back by her pale chest, shocking her when their hair pulled and tore at each other as soon as they were more than a few inches away. While Daenerys shrieked from the pain, Ziggi only growled as her strategy paid off. It was a common custom in duels between women of the Dothraki, but the outsider wouldn’t be familiar with their traditions and tactics. Dothraki won by offense, not defending. While Daenerys was busy trying to recoil from the pain, Ziggi embraced and ignored it to press her own attack.
Ziggi slammed her body into Daenerys’, sending the paler woman tumbling until she felt a thick splash against her back.The wet chill went down Daenerys’ spine as she faintly realized that it had rained the night before, and there still some patches of mud left on the ground. It marked her pale skin with its messy flecks of brown, startling her off course from her sensual but successful attack. Ziggi leaned into her opponent, palming her chest and mashing her further into the muddy ground.
“The mud will make it easier to bury your milk-ridden corpse,” Ziggi gloated. She punched her former mistress in the stomach several times, turning the battle more in her favor. Not only was it due to the damage being dished out, but she was a trained fighter from a violent clan of warriors. Daenerys still shoved and scratched at her attacker, but she was far less experienced in combat. The suffering she had endured was far more one-sided. She finally fit her hand between their muddy and sweaty bodies, tearing at Ziggi’s pubic hair. The Dothraki screeched in pain, but even that didn’t deter her. Daenerys needed a moment to catch her breath after that beating, but the pain only drove the furious savage on like a spurred horse. The silver-haired combatant saw that she would have to do the same, committing to her own assault and slamming her free hand into Ziggi’s breast.
Ziggi gave an almost feral howl as Daenerys dragged her claws over the Dothraki’s teat. The dull and dirty nails left crimson trails in their wake, and she could faintly feel Dothraki blood trickle onto her skin. Ziggi shifted her weight, causing another shock of pain through the women’s scalps before she drove her knee in between Daenerys’ legs. Their close proximity didn’t give it much momentum, but she started to grind the hard joint into her opponent’s privates until Daenerys’ screams raised in pitch to match her own.
“You won’t have him!” Daenerys shouted in fury, but there was a quiver to her voice as the pain went through her loins and up into her belly.
“You’re not worthy of the Great Khal” Ziggi snarled back at her, gritting her teeth as the blood on her breast made Daenerys’ breast slip out from her grip. “You cannot bleed for him if you’re veins run white with milk!” Ziggi raised her fist, Daenerys raising her hands to protect her face before she remembered the rule of their battle too late. Ziggi’s knuckles instead slammed into Daenerys’ breast, crushing the soft flesh into her rubs. The royal fighter howled in pain, managing to force herself through the surge of agony and drive her knee into Ziggi’s side. The Dothraki hardly faltered from the blow and drove a headbutt down into the royal’s face. The brutish move caused blood to spring from Daenerys’ face as she fell onto her back. She saw spots flashing before her eyes as Ziggi adjusted her grip, planting her thumbs over her areolas and then pressing them down like tentpoles into her yielding flesh.
Daenerys was too stunned to even scream right away, but her brain and mouth caught up just a moment later. It was her turn to bleed as Ziggi drove her strong fingers down as if she expected to punch right through her nipples and into her heart.
“So there is blood in there after all! The milk must be deeper down!” Ziggi crowed, taunting her foe and gaining some laughter from her attending people. The shame struck Daenerys, but it was far from her primary concern at the moment. Daenerys thought fast and hurled a handful of mud into the barbarian’s face, getting her to spit and wipe at her eyes instead of attack.
Daenerys fought the urge to try to escape the fight and instead drove several punches into Ziggi’s kidneys. It drew several pained grunts from the savage woman, but Ziggi responded by slashing at her like a feral cat. Daenerys threw her fists and palms at her attacker, her attacks connecting but seeming futile. She couldn’t hit as hard as the barbarian seemed to, and Ziggi had been on top of her for almost the entire second half of their fight so far. Trying to attack head on was one thing, but she was almost literally fighting an uphill battle. Her eyes watered as she felt Ziggi’s savage clawing sting over and over, and the skin that wasn’t being cut open felt the unsettling coolness of blood running down her sides. She managed to fall back on an old tactic when she caught one of Ziggi’s arms, barely halting it from its course and biting into the blood-stained hand. So long as she was fighting for her life against a savage, there wasn’t any room for reservations or honor.
Ziggi shrieked and finally recoiled out of instinct, letting Daenerys push her hard. It took all of her strength and made her body ache, but Ziggi landed beside her rather than crushing the air out of her. She was still bleeding and exhausted, and the blood on Ziggi’s breasts and hand hardly seemed to be slowing her down. The barbarian bashed her fist on one of Daenerys’ tits, briefly mashing it out of shape as the fresh blood sprang from her chest. The silver-haired royal let out a choking noise, all the ache and weariness in her body making her feel like she was going to be sick. Any worry of that was put away when Ziggi grabbed Daenerys by the throat, preventing any vomit or air from going in or out.
“As weakling to the end, you foreign whore.” Daenerys could only sputter and gag, even as Ziggi spat bitterly on her face. “I will keep your man’s bed warm for you,” she promised as Daenerys succumbed to the strangling and blacked out.
As her vision fogged over, Daenerys could make out several shapes. They were not the gathered mob of Dothraki, but 17 figures of regal look and posture. They each wore crowns of ghostly white flame, and around them, more vague figures of fog and shade shifted and slunk in and out of sight. The burning royals stepped up to her, even more clearly kingly figures as they surrounded her on every side. “What is your name, girl?” one of them demanded in a low and distant tone.
“What are you?” Daenerys asked in return. They didn’t seem to notice.
“What is your name?” asked another of the burning kings.
“I am Daenerys,” she replied, but a third asked again.
“What is your name?”
She answered them again in her full name this time. “Daenerys Targaryen.” She received the same wistful query from them. She snapped her response again, more impatient this time. She was on edge from the fight, and wasn’t sure where she was. She clenched her fists in frustration, and by the sixth time she was shouting her name at them. When the asked yet again, she grew fed up. They wanted a name, did they?
“I am Daenerys Targaryen, Stormborn, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Blood of Old Valyria and Blood of Dragons.”
The spectres stopped asking. This time, the kings began to laugh. The flames spread from their crowns, turning them to ash, even as they laughed on. Several of them began to whisper among the wild laughter. “Blood of the dragon. Blood of the dragon.” The repetitive visions continued to burn away, but the fires remained where there bodies were turning to cinders. The flames started to burn white hot and suddenly poured over Daenerys.
The fire the destroyed their ghastly bodies felt comforting and warm to her. It felt purifying rather the harmful. Invigorating rather than destructive. Powerful rather than dangerous. “Dragons,” one last, wispy voice advised her. “Bow to no one.”
Daenerys’ eyes flared open. Ziggi was surprised to find her not only alive but with a new fire behind her intense stare. Daenerys reached between Ziggi’s legs, but rather than grab her privates as the Dothraki braced for, the royal fighter jabbed her nails into Ziggi’s inner thigh and rose up from the mud. Daenerys lifted her handmaiden completely off the ground, her teeth bared as she gouged several fresh cuts into the formerly dominant fighter’s leg. Ziggi thrashed enough to put her off-balance, but the silver-haired berserker was already throwing her back into the mud in a crude but vicious body slam.
Ziggi landed in the mud hard enough to rattle her entire body. The muck splashed from the impact and the sudden burst of movement tore a chunk of their entangled hair out of Daenerys’ silver mane. Neither phased the revitalized royal, who let out a wordless scream of fury down at the startled Ziggi. The handmaiden quickly steeled her gaze, tackling into Daenerys’ knees. She staggered a half pace, but drove her knee into Ziggi’s breast. It knocked the wind out of her before Daenerys wound up her leg and kicked her toes right into the stunned barbarian’s pussy.
Ziggi let out a thick choking noise as she protectively held her crotch. The Dothraki grabbed Daenerys by her silver pubic hair, tearing down on it to try to halt the furious royal. Daenerys screamed savagely from the pain, but it only seemed to make her drive her knee harder into Ziggi’s ribs. Neither relented on their attack until the force of Daenerys’ incoming leg sent Ziggi tumbling to her side in the mud. Her grabbing claws tore out several of Daenerys’ pubic hairs that had served as flimsy handholds. She landed awkwardly, rubbing her ribs as she tried to rise again.
Daenerys was right on top of her. She ignored the burning pinpricks of her torn out bush, the bleeding wounds over her body, and the fresh scratches around her mound. The dream hadn’t healed her, that was for sure, but whatever it was had sparked something in her: outrage. All the awful things that had happened to her, all of her idle fury, all of her bitterness towards living in a world that had mistreated her at every turn. They poured out of her in one single-minded burst of rage that carried her on through one thought alone: the death of the servant girl to had threatened to take the last good thing in her life. The warrior woman threw a punch into Daenerys’ belly, but she hardly grunted before she punched one of Ziggi’s breasts. The pinned woman pulled down on Daenerys’ entangled hair like reins, but the pale royal brought her knee up into Ziggi’s groin and ground into there as if trying to reduce her pubic bone to powder. Ziggi gouged her thumb into one of Daenerys’ deeper wounds, causing fresh pain and drawing fresh blood from it. Daenerys screamed from that one, but she drove her head forward to bite into Ziggi’s tits and squeeze until she tasted blood running past her clenched teeth.
Ziggi howled like a wounded animal, thrashing and beating her fists against Daenerys to try to escape her crushing pin. She managed to lean to one side to even them out, but Daenerys clearly refused to allow it and rolled her onto her back again, teeth still clamped and tearing at her breast.
Ziggi grabbed her mistress by the hair, finally dragging Daenerys’ mouth away from her breast. Her lips and teeth were painted with her blood, which splattered over Ziggi’s wounded body as she breathed heavily through her mouth. Ziggi held her head back and grabbed the royal by her slender neck for another stranglehold, raking her nails over the pale skin as she tried to regain her grip.
Daenerys spit defiantly into her injured handmaiden’s face, the wad that emerged more Ziggi’s blood than it was saliva. The silver-haired warrior shoved her injured crotch into her opponent’s, driving her back through the mud and breaking her grip on Daenerys’ throat. Ziggi was dazed and rubbing her groin, but found herself rising as Daenerys stood without her. The hair pulled the Dothraki up like painful puppet strings, but she’d hardly got to her feet when Daenerys threw all of her power into a kick into Ziggi’s stomach. There was a faint tearing sound as Ziggi was launched backward, suspended in the air for a split second before the bound hair ripped apart and let her crash back down into the mud.
Off-color strands hung from both of their heads, each woman having torn out long knots of their opponent’s hair. Both fell to their feet but Daenerys soon rose again, breathing heavily, even as the only woman left standing. When she marched after Ziggi, she had a drunken limp to her. She was horribly injured, exhausted, and bleeding out, but she felt ready to die for the sake of killing Ziggi first. She practically collapsed to her knees over the coughing Dothraki, grabbing her by the hair and lifting her head up.
“Dragons bow to no one” Daenerys snarled quietly. Ziggi seemed too hurt and dazed to even begin to understand her challenge, and to her credit, Daenerys barely understood it herself. That didn’t stop her from forcing Ziggi’s head up with a yank of her hair and burying her teeth into her throat. It wasn’t a killing blow in itself, given the fact that Ziggi was still able to scream and claw frantically at Daenerys’ breasts during the whole thing, drawing fresh wounds and blood.
The Dothraki finally pulled away from Daenerys’ grasp, staggering to her feet and clutching at her neck. Daenerys had left behind some relatively shallow series of cuts and bruises, more terrifying than it was truly painful, but Ziggi visibly struggled to keep her eyes open. She staggered forward as her body slowly gave out. Then, with a feral snarl she charged into Daenerys with all her remaining strength, locking the Khaleesi in a tight bearhug whilst clawing at the Daenerys’ white bareback. But Daenerys simply stood her ground, returning bite for bite and claw for claw, almost as if she no longer felt the blood dripping from her wounds or the nails raking across her back. Ziggi’s breathing became erratic and she slowly sunk to the mud, her hands clinging at Daenerys’ breast in a last ditch effort to drag the silver queen into the mud. But Daenerys simply shook off the weakening nails and let the handmaiden fall to her knees. Daenerys crouched low in the mud, eyes locked on the slowly falling woman. The exhaustion had made Ziggi’s body give out, and her impressive endurance was failing her. All the pain was catching up to her. Ziggi made one last attempt to rise, just to send out and receive a knee to the crotch and fall face down into the mud.
The crowd erupted into entertained roars and shouts. Dothrakis knew a dead body when they saw it. Daenerys was not so confident, and not as cautious. She stomped over to Ziggi’s body, throwing several hard and furious kicks into her ribs and side. One last firm stomp to her back seemed to satisfy Daenerys, staggering back and brushing some of the blood-stained hair from her face. She gave one more feral scream down at Ziggi’s corpse, as if trying to frighten the spirit away from her body… and then passed out on top of her victim’s corpse.
Daenerys’ eyes flew open once again. She felt… much better. Not only from the stress relief, but her wounds were largely mended. She still ached, which she imagined made sense from how much she had overexerted every muscle in her body for that fight. The memory of the battle came back to her and actually made her smile. That savage, empowering fight, all for…
She looked over and saw Khal Drogo sitting on a simple chair beside her bed. “So, you made it,” he noted with some humor to his tone. He smiled at her, subtle but proud as he patted her arm. “You fought well, moon of my life.”
Daenerys picked up on the intonation of his praise and just nodded quietly at first until she got her caught her breath. “It was my pleasure, my sun and stars,” she replied, sharing the sentiment and the same proud smile.