Mother Of Dragons

Chapter 2

Drogo

Khal Drogo did not heed his body's need for sleep. After he left Dany at dawn, he went back to his red stallion and saddled the horse, ready for the day. He planned to hunt to keep his mind clear and away from her for a few hours. He didn't mind the rain that was beginning to show signs of starting, it wasn't cold, nor did it keep him from finding likely prey. A small wild pig and a few rabbits were just enough game for him to have some sport, and enough to keep him occupied for awhile as he cleaned his kills. He kept the rabbit pelts in the hopes that one day after they were cured they could be used to line the bed of his newborn son. He knew Daenerys would likely appreciate the lack of horse meat on her plate tonight. Back to her invading my every thought, he grimaced. His Khaleesi was always on his mind somehow, had been there since he first laid eyes on her, which was the one time she had kept eye contact with him despite her terror. Such expressive, beautiful eyes. He wondered where he could trade for the purple stones that matched those eyes, find her something pretty to wear that she would like. Drogo laughed at himself and shook his head, he was getting obsessed and worked up over a woman who had no interest in him whatsoever.

As he rode back to into camp, he tossed the carcasses to one of Daenerys' handmaidens. "Feed her. She is too thin. I don't want her sick," he commanded, and then took the skins to one of the many women stretching and salting hides on racks, making his mark on the skins with a bit of charcoal so he could claim them later.

It began to rain then, so he ordered that oilcloth be immediately placed over the Khaleesi's tent to keep her dry and warm. She was his to care for, whether or not she wanted him to. He would keep on trying to prove to her that he was a good husband until she could see it. He had never worked so hard for a woman, nor had ever been so unsuccessful in making one happy. It was frustrating, but he chose to see it as a challenge, one of which had the greatest prize of all if he could win it; her. He watched as her small tent was covered, then his great tent next to hers. If she only knew . . .

He tried to keep his mind busy for the rest of the day drinking with his blood riders and closest friends, though it seemed the more he drank, the more he thought. There was nothing else to do while it rained except to drink and eat and care for weapons. He gave up just as the sun started to set, and mounted his stallion again, this time to let the horse run. They traveled further than he realized, stopping at a stream the khalasar had used midday the last day they had moved. Fuck. It was going to take a long time to get back to camp, especially in the dark. He had hoped to check with one of her handmaidens to see if she liked his gift of meat, but he was going to get back long after they had all gone to sleep. He would hurry, and press his stallion into an endurance run like it had never done before.

He jumped off a lathered and heaving horse when he returned, tossing the reins to a nearby slave guarding their herd. He walked to his Khaleesi's tent as fast as his feet could take him. He didn't mean to startle her as he burst into her tent, tossing his pants near the door. She had been awake, waiting for him. She looked up at him, her eyes showing both fear and determination. He knelt down and grabbed her by the hips and began to hike up her nightsilks, but she twisted in his grip and pushed his hands away.

"No!" she said, her voice holding conviction yet trembling slightly.

He pushed her hands away and began to go for her dress again, but she struggled and repeated her assertion. What the fuck? She's denying me my rights? If she began denying him his rights to her as her husband, he felt as though he may go mad, and he was not about to give up the one part of her he could have. He had been watching the stages of the moon, too, and it was time for her to give him a son. She reached up with one hand toward his face.

"Tonight, I would look upon your face." Her Dothraki words stunned him, but he still expected a slap to accompany her fighting him, so he caught her by the wrist before she could touch him. Her gasp, then the strength behind her insistent and intentionally slow reach made him let go. Her soft little hand caressed his cheek and nimble fingers raked through his beard. What the fuck is this, now? He allowed himself to become pliant beneath her hands, allowing this delicate little girl to do with him as she wanted. He realized that his hopes were coming to fruition as she used surprising strength to guide him down onto her bed.