( ACT I; sleeping dragon )
⟵ ◊ ⟶
chapter 3: into the dothraki sea.

WARNING: this chapter contains sexual themes.

HEAVINESS weighed in Vaegon's heart. It ate away at any hope he had of saving Daenerys, of them being together without fear of retribution from the world. She hadn't spoken a word the morning after returning from the night with the Khal, where Vaegon knew full well that she had been taken forcefully by the savage. The thought itself stung anytime it appeared in his mind. When she had returned from that night, she had said nothing as she slid from her silver horse, a still face looking no where other than the ground. He had watched her be ushered by slave women into her tent, silent as could be. From that day, the two hadn't spoke. A sennight had passed and the Dothraki hoard had already begun it's trek away from the outskirts of Pentos and towards the tall Dothraki sea of grass. Away from civilization.

Vaegon stared ahead blankly as he rode his horse, eyes scanning the many, many, black haired heads that formed a seemingly endless line until his eyes finally landed on two silver ones far ahead. Unfortunately, Viserys had insisted on accompanying the the Khalasar into the grass sea to ensure that bargain he'd been promised was fulfilled. It seemed that he was never too far from Daenerys, almost as if to ensure he could still reign his authority over her so he would receive his promised army. Vaegon kept his distance, and had ever since they left Pentos. He kept to himself, speaking to few and preferring isolation when not on horseback. The only person who would come to him was Ser Jorah, who rode at his side then.

"If I may speak plainly, Your Grace, you have seemed to be in a dark place as of late," the knight stated at Vaegon's side. God's be damned, the older man was ever observant.

"You're observant," he replied.

"I am," Jorah agrees. "It's easy to see the broken heart of any man. Especially a man who has lost his lover."

The words stung, but Vaegon knew they were true. He didn't want to admit them to anyone, but if he were to be forced to speak about the matter, it might as well be with Ser Jorah. The man seemed understanding enough, considering the situation of the subject.

"It's not easy, I understand," Jorah went on. "I've experienced similar pain. Losing a woman is something I wouldn't wish on anyone."

"How so?" Vaegon asked. He knew little of the knight.

Jorah sighed, looking down as if to think of some long lost memory that was painful for him to dig up. "I was once married to a beautiful woman. She loved the finest things coin could buy and always begged to me, yet when I struggled to provide, she grew uneasy. I did things that are seen as wrong in Westeros just to provide for her relentless cravings, Your Grace. Things that called for my head."

"What could a man like you do like that?" Vaegon stated curiously.

Jorah thought on his words for a moment. "I sold poachers into slavery so that I might keep my wife's love. All for her to leave me for another man's bed. News of my indiscretions spread. Eddard Stark heard of my actions and called for my head. I fled to Essos in exile. That is why I am here now, Your Grace, and have been for years."

Vaegon frowned, knowing the man's pain. His life had been based upon exile. Essos was all that he really knew.

"If I were the one to become king, and not my brother, I would see you cleared of such things. The love of a woman is something too sweet to let go of. You tried hard for her, as any husband should. I would forgive you for such a thing."

Jorah looks over with a knowing gaze. "There are few men like you in this world, Your Grace," the Knight says. "Kind and wise, yet assertive and strong. If there were more of you, this world wouldn't be as damned as it already is. Make sure you never lose that."

"Sometimes I wonder if I'm any different than the men of this world, Ser Jorah," Vaegon admits. "You've known me but a fortnight. Perhaps your judgement would be better placed in the time to come."

"I know a leader when I see one," he replies bluntly. "No matter the flaws one might have. No ruler comes without them. That's what makes you a man."

"I suppose so," Vaegon sighed. "Yet my love for my sister isn't enough to change your mind? It's considered an abomination in the sight of the gods, Ser Jorah, isn't that enough to tear away my facade of righteousness?"

Shrugging, Ser Jorah cleared his throat. "You are correct. It is in the sight of gods. Yet your house is know for being dragons, Your Grace, not men. Your blood comes from an older, more ancient place than that of the First Men and the Andals. Perhaps there is more to such acts that your family has taken part in than the world realizes."

♜

DAENERYS held her black dragon egg in her hands as she gazed upon the beautiful scales that were flecked with crimson on the tips. Amidst her new found life of pain and fear, she'd been able to lose herself in thoughts of dragons flying once again, perhaps even hatching from the very eggs she owned. She knew that age had turned them to stone, but the dreams helped ease the thoughts of her new husband and his aggressive advancements that hadn't relented since their wedding.

"Have you ever heard of dragons surviving in the  east?" the girl asked her handmaidens, Irri, Jhiqui, and Doreah. Irri and Jhiqui were quiet girls, with Irri possessing childish features and a braid of midnight locks and Jhiqui with similar Dothraki features, while Doreah was a former pleasure-girl from Lys with fair looks that would catch the eye of any man.

"No, Khaleesi," the handmaidens reply as they organized her belongings.

"There is a story I heard once," Doreah chimes with a smile. "Of the creation of dragons. They say there was once two moons, but one wandered too close to the sun and cracked like an egg, spilling a thousand thousand dragons into the world."

"No," Irri is quick to dismiss the thought.

"Moon is a goddess," Jhiqui agreed. "Wife to the sun."

Daenerys smirks to herself at their tales, thinking of a second moon cracking open to unleash thousands of dragons. Once again she caresses her egg for a few moments, thinking of the tale before the flaps of her tent open. At first she half expects it to be Drogo, there to ruthlessly take what was his and leave her in pain as he had many times since they'd left Pentos. To her utter relief, it is merely Vaegon. Her relief is short lived when she remembers that she had tried her best not to show herself to him, fearing he might find her sullied.

The handmaidens bow in his presence, Daenerys noticing the way that Doreah lingers her eyes and smile a little too long on him, but the Targaryen girl dismisses it. She places her egg back into the chest that it had previously been in.

"I brought you something," Vaegon says after clearing his throat. He offers here a handful of wildflowers clutched in his fist, a chaotic array of colors and sizes. She smiles, knowing that he'd always tried his best to be kind to her, even if his efforts were sometimes quaint.

She takes them and brings them to her nose, where she draws in a sweet scent. She grins.

"Leave us for a while, please," she tells her handmaidens, at which they all obey and silently exit the tent. She wishes to be with him alone.

When they're gone, Vaegon drops to his knees to draw her into a tight, desperate hug. Despite the effort to not allow their emotions to overflow, both begin to shed silent tears. They pull apart after a few moments of embrace, Vaegon caressing her cheek softly.

"Please forgive me," Vaegon uttered nearly at a whisper. "I've failed you."

"You've done nothing of the sort," she scolded despite knowing somewhere deep down that she felt abandoned. She wouldn't admit it. "We are together now, is that not enough? We could be worlds apart now."

"I know," he says. A weak smile begins to form on his lips. "I could have stayed in Pentos, but I chose to follow you into this hellish place known as the Great Grass Sea."

"You could have stayed there to fight in the courtyard again," she grins playfully despite her cheeks still wet with tears. "I know you miss fighting. You're so good at it."

Despite the pain, he smiles. "I do," he admits as his lips grow closer to hers as a tempting gesture. "But I'd miss you so much more."

"Do you miss it?" She asks as she looks into his eyes while softly brushing at his silver hair. "Pentos? Illyrio's?"

"No," he shakes his head. "As much as I'd enjoy a proper bath and something other than horse meat for supper, I don't think I could be apart from you. I couldn't imagine it."

She lets out a light laugh. "I suppose something besides horse meat would be nice," she agrees as he hands wander to massage his scruffy white beard. "I miss all that we used to dine on. The meats, fruits, vegetables, and sweets. I can nearly taste them now, though I fear I might forget soon enough."

"It will be a while before we have any of the things we did before this damned bargain," he mutters in annoyance. "I curse Viserys everyday for it. For this awful situation. But I know there's more to this. Somewhere deep down, I know everything is going to be better."

Daenerys wants to believe him. She wants to believe that somehow they'll abandon the Dothraki, her brutish husband, and Viserys to flee somewhere they could be free to love. Togetherness was all she wanted. The iron throne meant nothing to her.

"One day," Vaegon begins softly. "One day I will give you everything you've dreamed of. Everything we've ever wanted. It's all that you deserve, my love. And you will have it."

She finds herself lost in his violet eyes for a few moments, transported back to simpler times. The thoughts are bittersweet and she feels a sense of longing building in her heart. Daenerys wants to meet him in a kiss, one she's craved so desperately, but the fear of Drogo finding them engaging in such affairs outweighs all.

She quickly rises to her feet, pulling away from his embrace and leaving him sitting alone on his knees. He looks up to her with a hurt expression as they assume silence for a few heart beats.

"Won't you kiss me? As we always have?" He asks.

Daenerys paces for a moment. She can see the pain in his violet eyes. "Vaegon, please. Do not make this harder than it needs to be."

"Has he already taken your heart from me, then?" Vaegon asks, his expression still. His words nearly came out in anger, but he forced himself to keep his composure.

"No, no," Daenerys protests. "Vaegon, I love you dearly, you know that. We can declare our love aloud, discuss our dreams all we wish. But for now, I cannot be seen engaging in intimacies with you. If we were seen, we could find ourselves with our throats cut." She sighs heavily, thinking of such a thing happening. "I'm trying to protect you."

She sees the way he clenches his fists tightly, the way his knuckles turn white. He never got angry in front of her, yet she was lead to believe it would be the first. She knew how ferocious he could be when angered, for she'd heard stories, but she wasn't sure she could handle the pain once it was done. She was already carrying so much. Instead, he rises to his feet rigidly.

"As you wish," he utters before abruptly turning heel and fleeing the tent, his boot crushing the cluster of flowers he'd picked for her.

She sinks back to her knees, feeling her heart do the same. The pain that had been momentarily relieved began to return. The sweet thoughts of their planned dreams all but evaporated as she returned to the harsh reality she lived in. She closed her lilac eyes, her brow furrowing into a pained expression as she tried her best to not allow a wave of tears rush into her.

She sat in place for a long time before her handmaidens eventually returned to the tent. Despite the heartache, she knew that if her situation was going to get any better, she would have to play the game right. No matter how scared she was.

"Doreah, I have some requests of you," she began, the knowledge of the girl being a pleasurer running through her mind. "I need you to teach me some things."

"Of course, Khaleesi," the girl replied with the smile of a pleaser. "Of what nature?"

"We will discuss it later," the Targaryen replies in monotone. The thoughts of what she needed to do pained her, but she knew of no other solution. Of how she would force things forward. She was a Khaleesi now, but her love for Vaegon could cause her to lose her head.

I only want him.

"But first, I have something I want you to do."

♜

THE night was cold and dark. Much colder than it had been anytime that summer. The frigid breeze billowed over the tall grass before it sank to the ground. It slithered under the openings of Vaegon's tent, where the prince restlessly dreamed on his back. Under merely a horse skin for warmth, he shivered in his sleep. His mind whirled with echoing voices and troubling scenes of Daenerys in peril. Such things had filled his dreams night after night.

While the prince slumbered, a lithe figure quietly slipped into the darkness of the tent. Her bare feet stepped over Vaegon's belongings, sure not to cause any noise to wake the sleeping prince. She found herself standing above him, looking down on his still features.

Such a handsome face, she thought to herself. I would sooner leave the Khaleesi's service if it meant I could be under his.

Before she sank down onto him, she dropped her robe from her naked frame which was touched by the chilling breeze. After she pulled away the horse skin, she straddled her legs over his clothed waist so she could draw herself up to wander near his face. Her lips found his, which were cold to the touch. She gave him a full, luscious kiss, one any pleasure girl would have to have mastered, before gently biting his lower lip. She kissed him a few more times before he began to stir, at which she moved down to kiss the softness of his neck.

His weary mind assumed it to be none other than Daenerys, so his hands found her body as he began to emerge from his slumber.

"It would seemed you have changed your mind," he uttered with his raspy voice as she kissed at his neck.

Strangely, she didn't say anything. He assumed perhaps she was in the moment, too concerned with starting their coupling. He understood the impatience's, as he had it too. His palms ran along the bareness of her curving hips before wandering up to cup her full breasts. Even as his eyes opened, he could merely see the faint silhouette of her slender body in the utter darkness. Her hands wandered to his waist, where she began to undo his breeches and pull them away from his hips.

Once removed, she crawled forward once more to smash her lips against his. As they aggressively fought back and forth passionately, Vaegon groaned in pleasure. The groans only grew more intense as she sank herself onto him. Soon enough, the two assumed a steady rhythm full of hard breathing and aggressive passion that only continued to progress. It didn't take long for him to reach his climax as they rocked, with which he let out a pleasured groan more intense than the ones he'd let out before.

As he body began to plummet from its high, he reached to his left to pull away an opening in the tent to bring in the some moonlight. He turned to gaze upon her brilliant, lilac eyes, but instead he found brown. In horror and rage, he shoved away her body.

"Have I angered you, Your Grace?" Doreah asked in concern as she rose to her feet in shock.

He snatched his breeches, which he's put on quickly to cover his nakedness. He was utterly enraged.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!" He growled.

"Your Grace, I—," she tried beginning in her own defense.

He was unable to control his rage as his mind began to fill with thoughts and assumptions. Had Daenerys sent her maiden-hand to pleasure him in the dead of night, perhaps to quench his desires for her? To pawn the woman off so that his love might diminish? Then it was true, Drogo had truly taken her from him. He wanted to let out a furious scream.

"I don't care. Get out," he snarled as he tried his best not to unleash all his anger on the slave. "GET OUT!"

As the hand-maiden quickly fled from the tent, the seed of betrayal was planted in his heart. It rooted deeply, the anger and rage growing quickly. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to forgive such a thing, even if it were Daenerys. He didn't sleep the rest of the night.