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The night was upon them, and he was hers once again. Not a Khal, but her sun and stars. Drogo, who was more than just her husband, more than just her first.
Low torchlight flooded their room, temporarily made to accommodate the Dothraki’s forever moving march around this section of the world. The night was warm and humid, as she had always loved it. Both she and Drogo were in a somber mood, oddly peaceful and quiet.
He still laid naked next to her, both of them having finished their nightly activities. Almost every night, sometimes multiple times a night. And…ever since Daenerys had gotten pregnant, sometimes not at all during the night. Sometimes he would come to their tent, pull her into their bed, kiss her and tell her how beautiful she looked, call her the moon of his life, and then fall asleep next to her on their bed.
But tonight was different. Three times just tonight, as Drogo seemed to be in a frenzy ever since they had bordered upon the Great Grass Sea, and both of them were exhausted.
Daenerys rolled over in their bed, ruffling the skins that they used for blankets. She looked at him, long and soft, drinking in the sight of his body. To say that she wasn’t aroused at the sight of the naked Khal would be a lie.
But there was something else on her mind tonight.
Something grave, that just wouldn’t go away. It plagued her now, day and night, both when she rode and when she slept. It made something dark within her, that dulled the violet of her eyes. That made her downcast.
Drogo had noticed it within her, too.
He noticed her watching him, and he spun over onto his side. His fingers came up to her cheek, and he brushed her long, silver hair off of her face. A small smile graced his face as he did so. But there was still that darkness within her eyes.
“What are your thoughts, moon of my life?” he asked her.
Daenerys thought of lying, of saying that it was nothing or that she just couldn’t sleep. That the baby was kicking too hard, or that she was simply so tired from being ridden so hard.
But in the end, she decided to tell him the truth. She loved Drogo with all her heart. He was her sun and stars. He deserved to know the truth.
“I am worried,” she said simply.
Once more, Drogo cupped her cheek. His thumb made slow strokes on her face, and Daenerys closed her eyes to indulge in the feeling. It was so sweet, soft and tender. Her heart swelled with his touch, and she reached up to place her hand over his.
“What are you worried about, moon of my life?” he asked her. His voice was as sweet and soft as his touch.
“About…” Daenerys’ words trailed off.
She took a deep breath, as if trying to cleanse herself. But the darkness still weighed down on her, not letting go, not ridding itself of her. It felt heavy, immensely heavy, as it weighed down upon her chest. Crushing her heart, squeezing the air from her lungs.
“Yes?” Drogo asked, bidding her to continue.
“Drogo…my sun and stars…” Daenerys said, opening her eyes and spinning her head back around to meet his eyes. Deep, dark brown. So dark that they looked black, like the sky on a moonless night, when the stars were hidden. “I am afraid,” she admitted at last.
Drogo seemed to draw life into himself then, as if steeling himself. Readying himself for what she would say next. Daenerys knew him, all too well. Whatever threat there was to her, she knew that he would conquer it and eliminate it. No harm would ever come to her, not as long as he had a say in it. And he was the Khal of the largest Khalasar within the Dothraki. He always had a say in it.
“Afraid?” he asked, trying this time to use the Common Tongue.
Daenerys nodded solemnly. “Yes.”
“What is it that has you afraid?” Drogo asked her, his hand suddenly feeling protective. Daenerys was glad for it. It made her feel safe, secure. And it was such a relief, because in all her life, this was the first time that she had actually felt safe and secure. Something that she had never felt with Viserys.
“Sometimes, during these long nights, as my time grows nearer and our son kicks harder within me, dark thoughts cloud my mind. I ache, deep within myself, and there is a spreading pain. And there is a shadow upon the tent of our home, a shadow laying across the bed of my mind. I fear death,” Daenerys said to him.
But then she realized, no, that wasn’t true.
“No,” Daenerys said, instantly correcting herself. “I do not fear death. I fear pain. And unbearable pain. A pain so great that it will tear the skin from my bones and empty my blood from my eyes, so that I cry red. A pain that tears me in half, and forces me to experience the most painful and agonizing death that there ever was within the history of the world.” With that, Dany concluded her speech.
“Such thoughts are not good,” Drogo agreed, sympathetic to what she had said. “Moon of my life, you must not think these things.”
“I try not to,” Daenerys replied, “but it is on my mind when we ride. In my dreams when I sleep. I fear that death is growing in me, quickening in my womb, kicking as it grows stronger.” She swallowed hard, then turning to look up at the ceiling.
The torchlight flickered over the fabric alluringly. She could make out patterns, dances, within the flickering shadows that played upon the fabric of the tent that they were in. Dany watched as exotic dancers flitted across the surface, being chased by foxes and dragons and wolves and lions. Such mystery. Such beauty could almost make her forget her fear.
“My sun and stars,” Daenerys said, her voice wavering as tears threatened to choke her throat and cloud her vision and roll down her cheeks. She faced him once more, in her moment of weakness and of need. His eyes softened as he looked at her, and his embrace grew tighter. He shifted his body closer to hers, pulling her into his chest, trying to make her feel alive again.
“What is it, moon of my life?” he murmured into her hair.
“I need you to promise me something,” she said to him. Drogo met her eyes fully, his face serious, concentrated. She could see the determination in his eyes, the stern look.
“Anything, moon of my life,” he replied.
“I need you to promise me…that if I must die, it will be painless,” she said at last. With those words, her tears finally did flow out of her. One after another, leaving warm wet streaks down her face, onto the bed, soaking her silver strands. “If I must die, I wish not to suffer. I wish not to be in pain. Promise me, Drogo, my sun and stars, that if I must die you will not let me suffer, that you will not let me be in pain.” And with that she went silent.
If Dany had opened her eyes and saw him then, she would have seen Drogo’s eyes glossed over with tears, threatening to spill free. She would have seen the torrent of emotions that passed through his face, the waves that went through him as her words penetrated his mind and made his skin shiver despite the heat. She would have seen all of this, but she did not, for her eyes were closed as she let the darkness over take her and give her body the soft black sight that it begged for.
“Moon of my life,” Drogo said to her, to pull her back into the present. “It is not something I want to think about, and something that I much less want to do. But for you, moon of my life, I promise you. If you must die, I will not let you suffer. I will not let you be in pain, but for you to have a peaceful death.”
A sob tore free from Daenerys’ throat, and she threw her arms around him, pulling her naked body closer to his, pressing herself into him. She let her tears flow freely and her emotions cascade over her, letting them have their way with her head and heart. Drogo wrapped his arms around her as she did so, hugging her, wrapping her completely in his embrace. Daenerys just kept sobbing, on and on until the tears finally stopped and she was left in the wake of what was just promised.
“Drogo…” she whispered.
“Sshhh,” she heard him shush her, as he ran his hand through her hair. “Do not speak anymore tonight. Enough has been said.”
Enough had been said. Daenerys closed her eyes and shifted over in the bed until she was comfortable. Drogo still had his hands on her, with his arms wrapped around her, with her body cradled into his. The words played over and over again in her head, until they seemed to be echoing in a deep, endless cavern. A thousand talking birds repeating it back to her, a thousand written scrolls with her name scribbled down upon the contracts.
“Thank you,” Dany said in the Common Tongue, her voice nothing more than a whisper.
Drogo ran his hand over her body, along the curve of her hip and back, and kissed her deeply. “I accept the thanks,” he replied, in his broken speech of the Common Tongue. Dany smiled, closed her eyes once more, and waited for a peaceful sleep to take the rest of the night away from her.