Drogo nodded to his bloodriders, letting them inside. "Do what you want to her, just leave her alive." She didn't put up as she walked with her head held high, a smile across her face. Qotho kicked her as she left, a cry leaving her lip. It didn't cheer him up as he passed his son to Souk once more, and left to sit beside Rhaenar.

He would have to witness her dying twice, he thought; gazing with wet eyes at her beautiful face. This was no life, there was no Rhaenar in there. He called for a bath, holding her hand as Doreah and Irri carried out their task with tears in their eyes. This would be the last bath they would have together, something that was always so sacred to them.

As the last vase of water was poured into the bath, Drogo stood from the bed, kissing both of their heads. They left Drogo and Rhaenar together one last time. Drogo undressed Rhaenar, the pale porcelain skin not having the glow it always held for him, not showing signs of life. As he scooped her up, he placed her in the bath, her hands staying down in the water.

Perhaps she preferred it in there, the heat seeping into her skin. He stepped in behind her, the temperature still scorching at his skin as he sat, bringing her small body into his for the last time. She didn't cuddle in like she usually would, her hand not seeking for his chest, her head not nestling into his neck. She just sat, gazing at the water.

His hands found her hair, undoing the braid she had in. She hadn't been defeated in battle, she had simply died. The battles she had won in her life deserving more than the simple one braid she always wore.

Drogo pressed a kiss to her skin as the last twist slipped out, his fingers running through the moonlight strands. He had always found her hair so beautiful, it made him attracted to her. He held her softly as he reached for a smaller vase, running the water over her strands. The waves dropped almost immediately, turning darker in hue as the water slipped from her hair and down her back.

"You are so beautiful, Moon of my Life." He uttered softly, wanting her to know exactly how he felt about her. "I will be so lost without you by my side, my Khaleesi. Nothing in the world, will compare to you and the joy you brought." He ran soft fragrances through her hair, patchouli and vanilla, the same she had always used. The scent brought a wave of tears to his eyes again, at leaving behind her. "You've been my only weakness, the only one to provide my world with meaning. What am I to do without you?"

He wished she was understanding what he was saying, that she was still in there. He wanted her to turn around, to kiss his lips in fever and stroke at his cheek with her delicate fingers. He wanted to hear her voice again, to listen to her sing as she moved around the tent even though he couldn't understand a word of it. Drogo just wanted her.

As he finished cleaning her body, he helped her from the tub; wrapping a towel around her figure. Even as he wiped the last drop from Rhaenar's body, she didn't move, just stand where he left her.

Drogo looked through her clothes, at the dresses that no longer held use. He pulled out her favourite, the blue dress that was off her shoulders and went almost like a line across her arms and chest. She always wore blue because she knew it was the colour of his Khalasar, a way to show her pride for him.

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