Drogo rolled over in the middle of the night, finding Dany laying on her back. He reached down and palmed her little bump and grinned. The bump was growing bigger, and was a struggle for her to tie her pants up and over their son now, so she quit trying. Once she had started showing, she seemed to be growing a bit more every day. It turned him on to watch her ride the silver, her little tummy poking out between her vest and pants, showing the world their baby.
She had been kept safely away from her brother for days now, and it was showing as much as her little bump; subtle, but obvious to a keen eye, and his were keen for only her. She smiled more, and her laugh was heartfelt and true, and her worried frown had completely disappeared. He noticed that her skin was more flushed, and the sun was kissing her face and arms delicately, little speckles everywhere the sun could touch. Her face was a bit rounder, showing better health, but also making her seem much younger. Sixteen years old, more than a child surely, but younger than he thought he would like in a wife. He wondered if the Magister had known earlier that Khal Drogo was looking for a wife, would he and Viserys have been so willing to give her away? Even at thirteen? Twelve? Honor would have made him turn her away at that age, he felt sure of it. But even as he imagined her being a little girl, that little Daenerys held a certain charm for him, too.
Sometimes, when she was walking or swimming, he could see the ghost of that child. Some of her movements were still that of a little girl, awkward and ungainly as a newborn foal, like when she was learning to ride the silver, or how she would bite her lip when thinking before speaking. It did odd things to him. He would feel a bit guilty, but so turned on that he couldn't help himself. The one thing that made his guilt disappear was that she was so eager and happy to be with him, completely unafraid of him now. He was making her happy. He smiled in the darkness, remembering that it was only a few moons past that she had been sleeping in her own tent, curled up and crying instead of being sprawled out next to him, her arm flung over his chest in her quest for his touch.
He knew she would be happy in her home in Vaes Dothrak. It was much bigger than the tent, and it was dug out of the side of a large mound of earth, offering cool darkness even on the hottest days. The bed was larger than the one they had here, and had a solid frame instead of rope slats across a light frame. He was looking forward to that bed and her in it. Breezes swept up from the lake and kept the air fresh in the valley, the grass stayed green all year at the base of the Mother of the Mountains. There was a market place full of traveling traders, something different with every caravan. He planned on showing her off to everyone, and he would be the envy of every man in Vaes Dothrak.
He thought about the ceremony waiting for her, and for him. He had mounted thousands of women, but had never claimed an unborn child as his own. This would be a test for him, too. He had to hunt down and kill one of the wild stallions with just a fucking stone knife and a rope. Steel and bloodshed between men were both forbidden in the city, so he would have to master the skill of stone before arriving. His practice just that evening proved to be less troublesome than he thought it would be, and he was able to provide her with her first preparation for her part in the ceremony. He hoped he wouldn't fuck it up on the day he needed to put the still warm heart in her hands for her to eat.
If she weren't pregnant, he would still need to present her to the Dosh Khaleen, the women of Vaes Dothrak, the widowed khaleesis that were now the leaders of their great and vast city. If he were to fall in battle, Daenerys would immediately be taken back to Vaes Dothrak by her khas to join them before she could be harmed. It was a sobering thought, his Daenerys widowed and abandoned to the women of Vaes Dothrak while she was still so young. If his son was under four, he would be left out for the wild dogs to eat lest he become a threat in his quest for revenge later. Drogo suddenly promised his sleeping wife that he would take extra care with his life. He wanted many, many more years of sleeping next to her like this.
He reached out and touched her belly again, stroking her silky soft skin tenderly, feeling the contours of her body. It startled him when her hand moved to rest on top of his, clutching his fingers tightly with hers. "Sleep," she murmured. "Plenty of time to touch him later. Wait until I'm huge and can't sit on a horse, we'll see how much you want me then," she teased.
He couldn't tell if she was actually teasing, or if there was a hint of true concern in her sleep husky voice. "I want you now," he answered. "I will want you then, and when you're pregnant with our next child, and the next, Daenerys. You are the Moon of my Life. I'm fucking excited to see you that big."
She snorted and rolled to face him. "Not going to be my favorite part," she said honestly.
He looked at her, surprised. "What, then?"
She smiled. "I want to hold him," she said simply, not sure if her words could really tell him the emotion behind them. Her baby. Hers. His. Their baby was growing in her womb. It was still a little surprising to her, this little baby that was no longer a hypothetical idea. She was going to be someone's mother, and for once in her life, Viserys had nothing to do with it, nor a place in her life.
He grinned and nodded. "Me, too," he answered, then turned serious. "Don't allow anyone else to get him before you do. You are his mother, and after he is born, you hold him as long as you want before you pass him over to the midwife, as long as you want, Daenerys, and then get him back again immediately. No one else for the first days," he instructed, bringing a finger under her chin to get her to look at him. "You don't share him with anyone unless you want to. No one has rights to him but you and me. He will be the Khal of Khals, and he needs his mother, not whoever happens to have milk for a baby. He is ours, not the khalasar's."
She smiled and nodded. "Yes," she answered, relieved. She had worried about that, seeing new babies being passed from one mother to the next, whichever nursing mother holding the hungry infant would feed him or her. It didn't even seem to matter who was feeding who's baby, and it had caused her worry and concern. She didn't want to give her little boy up to this Dothraki custom; he was her son, the blood of dragons, and she wanted him only at her breast.
"Drogo," she whispered, and pulled him to her for a kiss.
He held her as they kissed for a while, but then tucked her down onto his chest. "Sleep, Khaleesi. Long ride tomorrow, with only one short rest, so sleep and be strong tomorrow. I will tell the midwife your wishes."
She sighed then, wishing she had words to thank him for his concern. "Drogo, your words make me happy," she whispered.
He grunted in question, so she struggled for a moment before putting the words together. "About our son. Your word is law. Make it as you said to me, and I will be happy," she explained, using the best words she had to describe her feelings.
He leaned down and kissed her softly. "Tomorrow, before we leave, it will be done," he said, then kissed her forehead. "Sleep."
. . . . . .
Drogo laid awake despite his urgings for Daenerys to sleep, holding her tightly to his chest, his precious, precious girl. He wondered when the fuck he had gotten so possessive, so obsessed over a woman. When I married her. She is everything. His son was not going to be passed along to every woman with milk in her tits. His son belonged at his wife's breast alone. It hadn't occurred to him that she had worried about it. No more. He would tell the small band of midwives in the morning. Whoever Daenerys liked the most and felt the most at ease with would be the one to attend the birth of the Khal of Khals.
He would be not allowed to be with her while she was birthing anyway, so it was entirely up to her how she wanted this done, who she wanted there, and where she would have the baby. He would be pushed out the door and sent far away from her when her time came, sent to his bloodriders for feasting and entertainment. It was already being planned, this celebration, and it was shaping up to be bigger than any birth feast he'd ever been to. He would send Irri to help her understand it. Among the few things her brother did right in his lifetime was provide her with handmaidens who could speak both Dothraki and her Common Tongue.
He imagined what she would look like with a soon to term pregnant belly, and he groaned as his cock immediately sprung to life. This was either going to be a very long night for him, or he could nudge her awake quickly for a few minutes, and then they both could sleep. He thought about it, then gently shifted her over to her side facing away from him. He thought she was asleep until she started giggling and reached around to grab him. He groaned aloud and pressed his hips forward into her hand, and she sighed as she guided him to her.
He barely lasted four thrusts into her, moaning her name and spilling deeply into her, but he used his fingers to make up for it, touching and enjoying her climax as he withdrew from her long before he was ready. Would it always be this way? He didn't know, and didn't mind it. His Khaleesi enjoyed him as much as he enjoyed her, what else was there in life? A good fight, a good woman, and a son on the way. Life was very, very good, indeed.