Game of Thrones - One Shots/Imagines (Completed)

Khal Drogo x Baratheon!Reader

"You will die out here," he told you, pausing for a moment before speaking again. "Or you can come with us and live," he finished. You shifted on the spot for a moment, looking around as if you could see anything more than the dust before finally accepting his hand and climbing onto the horse. "Good choice," he chuckled as he pulled himself up behind you, kicking the horse to move.

"Do you have anything to drink? I'm going to die of thirst before we get anywhere at this rate," you huffed, letting out a happy sigh as he lifted a wine skin from his pocket. "Thank the fucking Gods," you hummed as you brought it to your lips, taking deep gulps of the liquid and pulling away panting. You could hardly taste it with the speed you had drank it and took another small sip before handing it back and settling in for a long ride.

*Time Skip*

The Dothraki camp was everything you had expected; rowdy men running about, horses tied to any secure post, and half naked women roaming between the tents. Gods, it was not what you had wanted but it was what you had expected. Some of the women stared at you as they escorted you down a long path to the largest tent, and you began to remember the state you must have been in. You hadn't washed in days, your hair was coated in a thick layer of desert dust, and your clothes were as dishevelled as they could possibly get. You felt yourself shrink a little, your shoulders hunching down under their glares. You had always had eyes on you, waiting for you to fuck up and go running back to your father; his wife had seen to it that you had constant supervision.

The men led you into the large tent, pushing you until you kneeled a few feet in front of the handsome stranger. He began to speak, his voice gruff and his words foreign to you as you stared at his feet, unable to make eye contact. "The Khal wants to know your name," your translator and saviour had told you and you nodded for a second, deciding whether you should tell him the truth.

"Princess Y/N Baratheon, daughter of Robert Baratheon, Rightful Queen of the Andals and the First Men, and the true head of House Baratheon," you muttered the well known titles and the man hesitated for a moment before whispering to the Khal for a moment. A small smile danced onto the man's face as he received the news, watching you as though you were a juicy lump of mutton on his plate. He grunted out a few words, causing the translator to sigh.

"There is a warrant on your head," he murmured and you nodded lightly.

"The Queen Regent and her bastard would definitely be benefited by my death," you uttered, biting on the inside of your cheek and keeping your lips in a straight line. The man whispered the comment back to his leader who let out a chesty laugh before speaking again.

"The Khal has made a decision," the translator spoke softly, giving you a tight lipped smile. "He will keep you safe here, he does not like your Westerosi Queen," he told you and you let out a light chuckle.

"Well, at least we have that in common," you smirked and the translator let out a chuckle as he repeated your words. "Does your Khal speak any of the common tongue?" you questioned with a small smile, he seemed interesting to you and it would be nice to be able to talk to him without the help of a translator whilst you were here.

"He does not, but I could teach you some Dothraki if you wanted, Princess," the smaller man told you and you gave him a small nod. "Come, let me show you to a tent," he added before gesturing for you to leave, and following close behind you.

"My father would be thankful to your Khal, and to you, for helping me," you told him when you stopped outside the tent he had shown you to, "Forgive me for not asking earlier, but what's your name?" you asked, realising your rudeness.

"I am Argo, Princess, Translator to the Khal," he informed you with a small smile. "He will expect something from you in return, you understand," he added and your smile faltered and you gave him a nod.