Ashes fell on her face like snowflakes but instead of dissolving they would leave black smears in their wake. She ran breathlessly not daring to look back. If I look back I am lost. She kept running as fast as her legs would allow. The wind was blowing, dispersing the figures into ash all around her. It was in her hair, in her clothes, in her eyes, forcing her to run forward blindly. Perhaps that wasn’t such a bad thing. She has seen it all before. The same nightmare was her friend whenever she closed her eyes.
A black shadow appeared over the ground, blackening the ash in front of her. As she ran, her toes would step onto it, leaving a footprint behind. It followed her without an effort as if watching her run for her life was its favorite amusement. With each step she took, the shadow grew larger. Now, she could hear its wings flapping louder, nearing her, her heart beating so fast as if trying to burst its way out of her chest. “You cannot escape me, you are me!” roared the shadow, causing Dany to stumble and fall rolling through the ashes. She turned on her back and faced herself having given up the chase. The demonic figure charged towards her and she closed her eyes awaiting her fate. A strong gust of wind went through her as if something made its way inside her. Suddenly, she had no control over her body, yet her body moved. Her eyes opened and fire was consuming the amethysts within, evolving in a slow circle around the pupils, transforming her eyes into two shiny gems of molten magma. Then came the pain.
The buzzing of the flies brought her back to reality. Her wrists felt heavy and bruised. When her eyes adjusted, she realized she was tied up, her arms spread wide, bound by the wrists and her legs by the ankles. Apart from few inches, she couldn’t move much. Her head was pounding and felt heavy on her shoulders. The red cloak was still wrapped around her, though not as tightly as she would have wished, but it was there. That at least, was a good sign. Her hair was messy and falling freely, tickling her lower back. How long has it been? She wondered. It felt like she spent more time in her nightmares than her reality, which differed a nightmare in no way. It was pain in her wrists, pain in her ankles, pain in her head, pain everywhere, few bites of dried horse meat, few drops of water and that was all. The rest was ash and burnt smell and a dark silhouette overtaking her body.
The tent was big, circular and dark. She has been in one of these tents before. She lit it on fire along with a few khals. Vaes Dolthrak, she thought. Back here again. If they had recognized her, she wouldn’t have been tied up. Bad sign. Besides, she is supposed to be dead. And people don’t just come back from the dead.
A tall man with broad shoulders and dark skin walked into the tent and three other followed him inside. She had never seen them before. Another bad sign. They were dragging a beaten unconscious prisoner. His shirt was torn and bloody, much like his face. They tied his hands together behind his back and onto a wooden column. The tall man’s lips curved into a smile when he laid his eyes on her. His prize was waiting for him where he had left it. He came closer and put his index finger under her chin lifting her head. The room was spinning all around her, she was tired and dehydrated.
“Kill her, blood of my blood, her hair is white and her eyes purple. She is a maegi.” one of the men in the back spoke in the Dothraki tongue.
“Cut her head off” agreed the other.
But the khal whose braid wasn’t even half as long as Drogos had been, looked at her as if he was drinking in her beauty. “I will cut off her head, after I lay with her this night. It would be a shame to kill a beautiful woman without taking her first.” Leaning closer, he towered over her as her head bent away from him. He wrapped his hand around her jaw, bringing her head back and sniffing her like a dog would sniff its dinner.
Fever took over and drained even the hint of strength she had left. Lost in the dizziness, she smiled an ironic smile. She found herself here, again. Somehow, this was the place she would always, eventually end up in. Perhaps she should just stay and join the other khal’s widows. This smile didn’t go unnoticed by the khal and Dany read his confusion as if there was something missing in the eyes of his prisoner. I should fear him. He wants me to fear him. It had just occurred to her. Ever since she was brought back, Daenerys Targaryen no longer feared for her life. Not when Drogon roared his scalding hot jet of fire over her, not when the Dothraki came straight for her, waving their arakhs in the air, not when they tied her up in the middle of this tent. Fear only came in her dreams. A fear from herself. All she felt now was impatience for the khal to get on with whatever he intended to do.
The prisoner coughed out blood over his yellow sandy shirt, he was awake but his head was still bent downwards. Belts rang from the dothraki screamer’s hair as he walked to him and Dany sighed in relief when the attention turned away from her. A whip cracked against the prisoner’s chest, tearing up what was left of his garment, revealing the scarred body underneath. Dany gasped as a disturbing realization sent an electrical jolt through her whole body. Now it was back. Now she felt fear. Those scars. Scars she knew very well. Scars she had seen before. Scars she had kissed before.
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