DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN GAME OF THRONES!

The Mer Khaleesi

Chapter 22

The journey back to the khalasar was silent and tense. Syleria had stalked ahead of her new translator and her two Guards, forcing the Knights and Missandei to quicken their pace, in order to keep up with the surprisingly fast young Queen. Missandei rode on the back of Syleria's horse on the way back, but not a word was said by anyone. When the four of them arrived at the edge of the camp, Syleria asked a nearby Dothraki man to help Missandei off the horse, but stayed in the saddle. Looking across the khalasar, she called for her children. Faint screeches echoed across the plains a few seconds later. Syleria ordered Jorah and Barristan to stay with the khalasar.

"Your Grace," Ser Barristan said somewhat tentatively, "Should we not prepare for tomorrow?"

"I am," was all she said before riding off to a hilled area. In the distance, Jorah and Barristan saw the outlines of the three dragons in the sky, flying off in the direction of their Mother.

Hours passed, and neither Syleria nor her dragons returned to the khalasar. Just as it began to get dark, and as the two Knights began to worry, someone shouted that the Khaleesi was heading back towards the camp, her children with her. Jorah and Barristan waited as Syleria dismounted her horse, unsure what to expect from their Khaleesi.

"All is well here?" she asked, straightening out her clothes.

"Aye, Khaleesi," Jorah nodded.

She nodded back as she pulled off her fingerless riding gloves. "Good. I shall turn in for the night. Good evening to you both." She and her dragons headed off to her tent without another word. Ossa, still the smallest dragon, draped herself around her Mother's shoulders, earning a comment from Syleria about how heavy her daughter was getting. Drogon and Rhaegar were too big and heavy for Syleria to carry anymore, a fact that both saddened and encouraged the Mother of Dragons. The Knights looked at each other, wondering why and how the young Queen could be so calm when, come the morning, she would have to give up her eldest child to slavers.

!"!

Syleria was jolted awake by people shouting outside her tent. Her dragons hissed beside their Mother's bed, but the hisses did not sound threatening or scared; they were just annoyed at being awoken in the middle of the night. The young Queen sat up on the bed, lighting a taper for the nearby candles.

"Your Grace?" A young woman called from just outside her tent. It was Missandei. "Are you awake?"

"Yes, Missandei. What's happening?"

The former slave put her head through the flaps of the tent, with a grave look on her face. "Something has happened, Your Grace. You must come," she urged.

The slave found a robe and slippers for her Queen, and both women and the dragons travelled only a short distance through the camp. When it became clear that their destination was Irri's and Doreah's shared tent, Syleria's stomach twisted. There were shouts and cries from inside, and people arguing. Someone said in Dothraki that they should wait for the Khaleesi to arrive.

On cue, Syleria stepped into the tent. "That's a good idea," she said firmly. The tent fell silent. Syleria looked around the tent, and wished she hadn't.

Rakharo knelt on the floor, a bloodied woman in his arms as he sobbed. It was Irri. She was dead. On the other side of the tent, Doreah also knelt, two guards standing behind her with their arakhs out, inches away from the girl's throat. A discarded bloody knife was discarded only a foot away from her. Doreah was weeping silently, her hands and dress covered in blood.

Syleria looked to Jorah. "What happened here?" she snarled.

"There were shouts coming from the tent, and then a scream. Boro and Laggo," Jorah indicated to the two guards behind Doreah, "entered, and found Irri bleeding out from a stab wound, and Doreah with a knife in her hand. She tried to run but they caught her."

Syleria moved over to Rakharo, kneeling next to him and placing a soft hand on his shaking shoulder. "Is she...?" He nodded and groaned in agony. He had always loved Irri, even asking Syleria for permission to court her before they arrived in Astapor. "She will be honoured. She was blood of our blood." Syleria kissed Irri's forehead, saying goodbye to her dear friend.

Standing back up, she turned to Doreah. The slave didn't look up as the Khaleesi moved closer, her eyes fixed on the ground. "Why did you do this, Doreah?" Syleria asked in a deadly tone.

"Khaleesi-" she sniffled, sad and pathetic. But Syleria but across her.

"Answer me! Why did you do this?"

"I just… I needed to leave but Irri wouldn't let me-"

"Why did you need to leave? Where were you going?"

Doreah looked up for the first time, tears in her eyes as she shook her head. "Khaleesi-"

Syleria shot out a hand, grabbing the back of Doreah's hair and gripping it tightly. Leaning in close, she shouted, "Where were you going! Tell me!" The dragons moved forward and began snarling at the slave, making her try to pull away from Syleria. It did no good, as the guards behind her held her shoulders. "Why did you do this, Doreah? Answer me!" Drogon bared his teeth and snarled, causing Doreah to cry out in fear.

"Kra-Kraznys!" she confessed.

That surprised Syleria. She shook Doreah. "What about Kraznys?"

"I was going to go to him," she whispered. "He offered me a position."

Syleria scoffed. "As his whore? Why? In exchange for what?"

Doreah wept and closed her eyes. "The dragons." The creatures in question all hissed and angrily spread their wings. "He said if I could get all three dragons..."

"He'd offer you a job as his whore?" Syleria laughed humourlessly. "You fool girl. He would kill you the moment he had them." She shoved Doreah's head away, straightening up and looking down at her. "What would he have done with my dragons? Chained them, I suppose?"

"He said I could keep the smallest one," Doreah confessed.

Ossa hissed in disgust. Syleria chuckled. "I don't think my daughter likes that idea. Did you really think I'd just let him take my children?" Doreah didn't answer. "Oh, of course: I would be dead at that point. How? By my own children?"

"He said that dragons are mere beasts, and beasts do as they are told."

"Dragons are not 'mere beasts'," Syleria snapped, offended on her children's behalf.

"They obey you!" Doreah protested.

"Because I am their Mother, and they my children! That is why they obey me. Not because they are mindless beasts." She sighed deeply. "But that is irrelevant now. Your treachery will be punished, Doreah. Not only have you killed Irri – a wonderful woman, and a close friend of your Khaleesi – but you also intended to betray me, and turn over the only three dragons in existence, to a handful of slavers. You were a slave yourself, Doreah; why would you do this? Money? An easy life?"

Syleria shook her head sadly. She looked at Boro and Laggo. "Take her from this tent," she ordered. "Punish her as you see fit – enough to assure me her obedience – but keep her alive and intact. I will need her tomorrow." She dismissed the two men, who pulled Doreah to her feet, and began to drag her out of the tent.

"Khaleesi, please!" the former whore begged as she fought against the two men. "Please, Khaleesi, don't do this! I beg you, Khaleesi! Syleria! Please!"

Her screams rang through the khalasar for the entire night, only fading out as the sun rose over the hills. Syleria spent the night with her dragons, alone in her tent. No-one dared approach it; not out of fear, but out of respect. Syleria was mourning for her first true friend, and had ordered the torture of a woman she thought was loyal to her. She was also only a few hours away from losing her eldest child. No-one wanted to disturb the young Queen.

Ser Jorah eventually made his way over to the tent in the morning, not having slept a wink that night. Boro and Laggo had successfully broken Doreah in the early morning, through beating, torture, and vicious rape, and the girl was willing to serve her Khaleesi for the last time. It was time to head to Astapor, to make the exchange – Drogon for the Unsullied army. Jorah took a deep breath outside the tent, uncertain of what state Syleria would be in. He had never seen a woman, a mother, love her children as strongly as Syleria loved her dragons. But when she agreed, without hesitation, to surrender Drogon – the clear favourite – to that vile Kraznys… Jorah didn't know what to think.

"Khaleesi," Jorah called out. "We must leave for Astapor now."

Syleria stepped out of the tent only a second later, the three dragons at her heel. "Good morning, Jorah," she said calmly. Jorah thought she looked too calm, almost numb. "What of Doreah?"

The Knight cleared his throat awkwardly. "Boro and Laggo were successful. She is ready to serve you."

The Khaleesi nodded. "Good. Come, Drogon. Ossa, Rhaegar: you know what to do." Jorah watched as the two dragons lifted off into the air and flew in the opposite direction to the city, heading out towards the hills. "I will need a crate and a chained collar for Drogon," Syleria said smoothly, calming tying her light blue and cream cape around her shoulders.

Jorah followed Syleria obediently, taking in her appearance. Her hair was immaculately braided; she wore her usual combination of blue dress and leather riding boots; and she had adorned herself with the teeth earrings and claw necklace she always wore. She looked no different, but was somehow not the same. Mother, son, and Knight moved through the khalasar, everyone stepping out of their Khaleesi's way, knowing what was to happen that day.

They met up with Ser Barristan, Missandei, and a broken-looking Doreah. A crate, collar and chain was brought for Syleria. She picked up the collar and fastened it around Drogon's neck. Jorah thought the young dragon seemed surprisingly calm that morning, but the poor creature probably knew nothing of what would happen to him. Syleria hooked one end of the chain around the collar, then tapped the crate.

"In you go, Drogon." The dragon obeyed immediately. Before she shut the lid, Syleria stroked his head and scratched his chin, telling her son that she loved him. When the lid was closed, the small group – accompanied by a few dozen Dothraki soldiers and Syleria's bloodriders – headed out for Astapor.