( ACT I; sleeping dragon )
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chapter 9: a life for a life.

AS the Khalasar moved on from Lhazar, Daenerys' concern grew. Even as she rode from a distance from her husband, she could see his energy drain as the time went by. He was slumped in his saddle, nowhere near the lean figure that he normally was; so proud and menacing. She knew his wound could quite possibly have caused a fever, but couldn't quite figure out why after she'd allowed the Lhazari woman tend to her husband. Had the woman they Dothraki called witch done something wrong? Daenerys couldn't tell.

"What do you know of this maegi that healed the Khal?" Daenerys asked Irri, whom walked alongside the Khaleesi's silver horse on foot.

"A maegi is cursed," Irri informed her. "Witch. They bring misfortune upon us."

Daenerys didn't feel as if this maegi she had saved was evil or intended to harm her after she'd vouched to save the older woman's life. She had hoped that by saving the survivors, she might gain their loyalty. A lurking suspicion against those shed vouched for had her feeling uneasy as she dwelled on the situation.

"Has a maegi ever actually done anything?" She asked her handmaiden. "Or perhaps it's superstition?"

Irri shakes her head. "Maegi are cursed kind. They kill with words. It is known."

Daenerys frowns to herself, hoping she didn't make a mistake by entrusting her husbands care with the Lhazari woman.

"In Lys, witches aren't as fearsome," Doreah chirps from Daenerys other side in the common tongue. "Sometimes, they seduce their victims."

"That sounds dangerous," Daenerys remarked to herself for she always enjoyed the tales her handmaidens would tell her, but couldn't partake in them during her time of worry.

"The Khal is not looking well," Doreah states in worry as the three divert their gazes toward his limp figure far ahead of the line. Just as he had been before, his back swayed and shoulders slumped.

"Indeed," Daenerys agreed grimly. Her suspicion begin to get the best of her. "Do you. . .think the maegi could have done something? To him?"

"Only time could tell, Khaleesi," Doreah replied.

"But he has only grown worse," Daenerys voiced her concern.

"Khal Drogo is strong," Doreah reassured. "You know this."

Daenerys purses her lips as her worried thoughts begin swirling once more. She thinks on her husbands state, the many innocents that had been slain since they'd began the funding of the conquest, the witch she may have been foolish to trust. All of her thoughts do not get any better once she sees Vaegon in the distance to her left, cantering on his horse with Ser Jorah following close behind.

She is alarmed to see that he has seemingly abandoned the Dothraki garbs he'd worn for so many moons to take up his more Westerosi appearing attire. He'd even sheered his silver head that had grown so long, it now short atop his head. The sight has her sad, for he had been so accepting of the Dothraki ways to only throw it all away on a whim. She notices his saddle bags are far fuller than usual, which causes her heart to skip with suspicion.

Was he leaving? If he was, where would he be going?

As if fate couldn't stop itself from causing even more troubling events for the Khaleesi, the line suddenly halts. Daenerys looks ahead in fear as she begins hearing shouts of worry. She yanks her reins to the side, kicking her horse into a canter.

To her horror, Daenerys finds Drogo on the ground, seemingly dethroned from his saddle as his blood riders surrounded him. She slid from her saddle in a hurry, quickly making her way to his side. It was a grave sign of weakness amongst the Dothraki to fall from ones horse, she'd been told once. His skin was pale, a worrisome sight for such a dark skinned man.

"We stop here," Daenerys commands loudly in Dothraki. She looks up to Drogo's rider Qotho. "Bring me Mirri Maz Duur."

He gives her a sneer, obviously displeased to be allowing the suspected witch to tend to the Khal again, but he does not argue.

She turns her attention back to her husband, who is breathing shallowly while perspiration coats his pale skin. Foot steps are audible from behind and she turns to see Jorah and Vaegon making their way over.

"What is it, Khaleesi?" Jorah asks in concern as he drops down to comfort her.

"He fell," she uttered in defeat. Her hand still stroked his cheek.

"This is not good," Vaegon uttered lowly. His hand is on the hilt of the Arakh on his hip, the weapon he would sometimes carry through their moons with the Dothraki. He looked around in worry. "His blood riders are already eyeing us, Daenerys."

Daenerys knows that her brothers means they could be in danger, especially if her husband were to suddenly succumb to his wound. She looks around and indeed sees the riders and their hungry expression, all ready to fight for the title of Khal once Drogo reached his demise. The site disgusted her. How could they be so quick to betray their Khal? She began to fume with anger.

"Ser Jorah, please armor yourself," Daenerys commands. "We may find ourselves in need of it soon."

The knight nods in obedience before wandering away. As he leaves, Vaegon steps forward to stand closer to her.

"We should leave when we have the chance," he tells her lowly while he still cautiously gazed around at the dangerous gazes.

"No, we're not leaving," she refuses immediately.

"Daenerys, listen to me," Vaegon says lowly. "He is certain to die. You know this. His condition is beyond recovery. Once he is gone, his men will find amongst themselves to be his successor. The one that wins will come for you, to kill the babe in your belly."

Hearing his words terrified Daenerys. She couldn't say a word.

"They won't accept a rival. You know this," he continues. "They cut him from your belly if they don't deal with you first."

As much as his words held truth, she refused to leave her husband. He was a strong man, the strongest she'd ever seen and she refused to believe he could die.

"No," she refused once more. "He will make it through this. The woman will help him."

After a tent was pitched for the unconscious Khal, the witch is brought to them. She still looks as disbelieved as she had before as she stood before Daenerys.

"Help him," Daenerys pleaded from where she stood near the entrance of the tent. Vaegon stood nearby with the newly armored Jorah as well. "Please, help him. For me."

The witch didn't seem as willing to save the Khal, but eventually agrees after she looks around at the many gazes focused on her.

"I can save him," she tells Daenerys in the common tongue. "But a sacrifice of life must be made. A life, for a life."

Daenerys is uneasy with the thought, but she agrees.

"I can give you his horse," she tells the witch desperately. "Whatever you need. Tell me. Just please, save him."

"I will do all that I can," the witch tells her as she begins to enter the tent. "But a life, for a life."

Daenerys feels haunted by the words, but she ignores the uneasy feeling. She looks to the riders nearby, who bring Drogo's blood red stallion at her command. She takes the reins of the beautiful beast, gazing down at them for moments before reluctantly giving them to the witch.

Daenerys watches uneasily as the horse is led through the skins of the entrance and into the dark tent. Once disappeared, an eerie silence falls over those who wait. All is quiet except for the breeze, until the low beginnings of chanting are audible. Suddenly, the shriek of a dying horse is shatters the quiet, sending shivers through Daenerys' body. her instincts tell her to run away, to cry, but defies them all as stands her ground and witnesses the dancing of shadows that were visible through the fabrics of the tent. Growls and hisses fill the air, frightening the Dothraki. They takes steps away while murmuring among themselves.

Daenerys heard some of her husbands riders cry in outrage. They curse her for interfering with the natural way of things and for a moment she begins to believe them. She feels defeated and spent. Guilt overcomes her as she starts to believe her husbands condition was her fault. Would Mago have confronted him had she not asked for the release of them Lhazari women? Would he still be alive instead of half dead in a tent?

She lets out a cry as she is suddenly swept from where she stood by strong hands. She realizes it is Vaegon, who shields her from the scene behind him. She realizes that Qotho had tried to strike her down as Jorah quickly dispatched the rider in a few well placed swipes.

She felt betrayed knowing that the people she'd grown to love really were savages, ready to assume power any chance they got. She had been foolish to believe they truly loved her as their Khaleesi. If she couldn't even be a ruler to the Dothraki, how could she ever be a ruler in Westeros?

"They want me dead," she mumbles with emotion. "They want me dead because I tried saving their Khal."

"Shh," Vaegon tries gently quieting her by caressing her long locks of silver hair, but she begins to sob.

Her sobs mix with the frightening supernatural noises that emitted from the tent for a spell of time until she suddenly gawked in pain. Her hand immediately reached for her belly, which was contracting with unbearable pain.

"What is it?" Vaegon asked in alarm.

"Rhae-go," Daenerys managed to blurt out indicating that it was her babe was the root of the issue, of being ready to be delivered. She ground her teeth and clenched her fists.

"Ser Jorah!" Vaegon called for the knight, who reached them to aid in no time.

"The child is coming," Jorah observed the obvious. He turned toward the Dothraki surrounding them, calling out for the midwives to aid on their Khaleesi.

Vaegon looked around as he grasped Daenerys, confused as to why none were rushing to her aid. They merely gazed at them with dark eyes, blank expressions. Why weren't they listening to the commands? He quickly grew angry.

"Why are they not coming?" Vaegon growled.

"They think she is cursed," Jorah realized grimly. "They won't help."

"They won't help?" Vaegon fumed. "Will they help once I've cut all their throats?!" He looked back to Daenerys, who was still crying in pain. Knowing they would have to take things into their own hands, he forced his anger away. "So be it. We will help her ourselves."

Vaegon knew nothing of delivering a child, but he could ease Daenerys of the pain he would try his damn hardest. They had no other options. With Jorah's help, they carried Daenerys toward the tent where the haunting ritual still continued. Vaegon looked toward the sky one last time before entering the darkness, as if he may never seen the light again. The knight and the prince carried the Khaleesi inside to accept whatever fate they all may face.