Disclaimer: I do not in any way own Game of Thrones. If I did no Direwolf would have ever been harmed, only people...

Quick Summary: Daenerys has a choice to make: the love of her life and conqueror of her heart or their unborn child and future of the Targaryens? What if she had never put her unborn son's life on the line for Khal Drogo but had given birth to him, Rhaego the "Stallion who Mounts the World." What kind of life would the two of them had as Daenerys struggles to once more reclaim her rightful place as Queen on the Iron Throne?

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Chapter Nineteen:
Down the Hatch

Nagis worried for Rhaego.

He had fallen unconscious again in what was becoming a worrying pattern, and now, despite being conscious once more he was so exhausted that his head lolled backwards in Jorah's arms and his mouth hung slightly agape, drool collecting in a corner ready to slide down across his cheek. She did not know what had befallen him during his black outs, these fits which seem to take his body into a frenzy and spirit his mind away to distant places where he cannot hear her voice, but she hated them.

All she did know was that she needed him, him and Daenerys, the beautiful and strange queen of a distant land, and she could not see him harmed. Would not see him harmed. The life of a slave girl was cheap, she knew, yet the loyalty and love of a slave was a rare thing indeed, and Rhaego and Daenerys had earned her complete adoration.

She was young, yes, a girl of small years, and maybe naive in certain things, yet she was not ignorant of the life that awaited the likes of her. Man's grasping hands and women's stinging slaps, the drudgery of menial work and the burn of chastising blows.

Daenerys and Rhaego offered another life, though. A life which she craved with every fibre of her being.

She was devoted to the little prince and loved caring for him; she loved everything from playing with his dragons to listening to Daenerys talk of the future and the seven kingdoms of their realm. One day Nagis hoped to look upon those kingdoms and serve by Rhaego's side as he finally takes his rightful place as King. Such a glorious and truly magical day it would be and she often found herself daydreaming of it when she was preparing food or getting scolded for a task. She was a daydreamer by nature and such a promising future of adventure and grandeur was now a possibility for her, fueling her imagination no end.

She also knew that Rhaego's hands would never hurt her, that he would never allow someone to berate her with their words or punish her for small missteps, and in some ways this security was even more splendid to the girl than all of the kingdoms and majesty the fabled Westeros had to offer. She knew he would look after her, as she would him.

Always.

The urge to reach out and stroke his velvet cheek as he fell into a weary sleep was strong, but she held herself back with effort. He needed rest and she was confident Jorah would wake the boy when they finally reached the dragons, which she hoped would be soon as they had been searching for what seemed an endless amount of time. She tried not to let her fears get the better of her but something about this place sent shivers dance down her spine and with each step her nerves grew more and more frayed as she anxiously rounded each corner, imagining Pree's monsters to be lurking in the shadows. Even the atmosphere of the creaky old building made her feel like creeping bugs were slowly crawling across her bare skin and it was disgusting. She hated bugs.

Fear cuts deeper than the sword, she told herself, nibbling her lower lip nervously and always keeping just behind the valiant knight. The weight of the sinister power of this place, the revered House of the Undying, felt almost suffocating in some places, especially at the place where Rhaego had had his fit, while in the rest of the house it merely seemed to brush against her every now and again, as if testing her. It stood the hairs on the back of her neck up every time. Everyone had heard wild rumours of this place, tales told to scare children, but it was said that its magic had died generations ago stripping all true power and leaving a barren house filled with Warlocks wielding mere tricks in place of their former dark arts. Yet, being here and seeing things with her own eyes, she felt this was not the case.

This place was heavy with power, certainly dark magic was at work otherwise here how else would she have seen her mother and older sister, dead three long years now?

Tears pricked at the edges of her eyes as she recalled them. Before today their images had become faded in her memory, reduced to warm fuzzy smiles and soft words with the edges blurred from undefined faces. Today, though, she had seen them as clearly as could be, drinking in the sight of her sister's frazzled hair, tamed stubbornly into tiny plaits as always, and her mother's lined face, her kindly bright eyes speaking so much for the woman of such few words. She had never been a talker, her mother. Her sister, on the other hand, could not be made silent for all the jade of Yi Ti.

How she missed them. Seeing them today had brought back the fierce ache, dulled after so long until now.

She swiped at her eyes with the back of her hands as tears started to trickle down her cheeks. She had wanted nothing more than to stay there forever, illusion or not, but had been brought back to reality all too soon.

Meeting Daenerys and Rhaego had brought her hope, where it had died inside her so long ago; a will to live, a cause to live for. Yet, faced with her loved ones in that strange room she wondered if she could not just join them. How easily she could tear away into the chamber where she had seen them once more and be welcomed by her family's embrace. Feel her mother's arms around her. Laugh at her sister's funny stories.

She sniffed and felt Daenerys' eyes dart to her face at the sudden noise where all had been silent, flushing furiously she pulled herself together. Which was made all the more difficult when she felt the feather light touch of the queen's hand grasping her should gently. She fought to hold it together.

Nagis turned her head slightly and met the heated sympathy in the queen's expression, feeling fresh tears burn at her eyes. It was so difficult to be strong when faced with such affection.

"My family," she murmured thickly, by way of an explanation.

Daenerys nodded and smiled sadly, depths of understanding shining from her deep purple eyes. "It is most difficult to have our loved ones dangled before us, only to walk away."

Nagis nodded, her throat tight. She did not trust herself to talk for fear a desperate sob would replace actual words, should she try.

Daenerys squeezed her tiny shoulder bracingly. "We must live the best life we can, for them," she said as a distant look came to her face. "Make them proud of us, Nagis, and in that way we shall do right by those who wait for us in the realms of the dead."

"But I miss them," she blurted out. She looked up at Daenerys pleadingly, as if the queen of dragons could somehow bring her family back and Daenerys' heart broke for her.

"I miss my family too," she admitted, her eyes shimmering with an ocean of her own unshed tears.

Nagis shook herself mentally for being so pathetic in front of this woman she idolised, this queen, and swallowed the rest of her tears. "Well, we shall bring your family back for you, my queen," she promised with determination. "You shall have your dragons in your arms before night fall." Nagis laughed nervously, "if there aren't too many more corridors…"

Daenerys drew the girl into a fierce embrace. "Thank you," she whispered gratefully. "For reminding me I still have family to fight for."

Nagis smiled bashfully.

Rhaego stirred. "Dragons," he murmured in his sleep.

Daenerys nodded. "He is right, we are not far now."

Nagis thrust her shoulders back and marched forward with refreshed vigour, much to Daenerys and Jorah's fond approval.

They came to another room, this one heavily bolted and oddly plain of engraving of any kind. Were it not for Daenerys' inner sense of how to get to the dragons, they would never have considered it a room of importance.

Jorah placed Rhaego softly on the floor next to Nagis, took out his longsword and began to hack at the wood surrounding the lock, sending splinters flying out in all directions, which Nagis hurriedly protected Rhaego from with her body as she crouched over him. He slept soundly on, snoring ever so slightly as she watched his little chest rise and fall. He was so small, she realised. Sometimes he seemed larger than life to the slave, but now, sprawled across the floor in a state of vulnerability she realised just how fragile this boy prince was.

When the door was open they walked into the dusty room, filled with cases upon cases of books and maps, scrolls and large pieces of papyrus filled with words in symbols none could read or recognise., Tentatively they entered, weary and frightened eyes darting around the room, expecting a surprise the likes of which had plagued them so far, yet there was none. It was only as they picked their way through the stacks of dry old tomes that they saw it, set carelessly among other paperweights strewn across a desk of solid oak.

An egg, its gem-like exterior a deep, cobalt blue shot through with flecks of silver. Daenerys gasped and Nagis cried out in wonder, never having seen a dragon egg before. Jorah merely exhaled and bent his knee, rolling Rhaego back to the ground gently and causing him to wake up fully. The speckles of dust shimmered around the egg as they shifted and danced it in the flickering light of the torches.

"Egg?" the boy asked, his eyes squinting as they adjusted to being open once more. He staggered to his feet and was the first to approach it, reaching out with both hands as he waddled across the room.

It was warm in his hands, too heavy for him to pick up and it thrummed with an energy which he quickly tapped into, Nagis could tell by the tilt of his head, the same mannerism as when communicating psychically with his own dragons. She envied him that, how she would love to talk with such majestic creatures.

"Are you a dragon?" Rhaego sent, excitement bubbling up inside him as he felt the life pulse of the luminous orb through his very finger tips.

"Are you?" it returned, bringing a weak smile to the exhausted boy's face.

"It alive." He turned and told them all earnestly. His eyes drooped, his face could not mange to hold the smile for long and before he knew it he was staggering to the ground once more, weakened by his short walk. Nagis was by his side to catch him, quick as lightning, fretting over her prince until he waved her away with a feeble hand.

"Come find me," it sent, weaker this time as the egg itself began to fade away, much to Rhaego's shock. "I await the true dragon. I rest in the Smoking Sea, a memory of a time long past. Find me, Rhaego. Bring me back to life."

"Muna?" Rhaego yelped as the egg faded away to nothing in his outstretched hands. "Egg..."

The message had shocked Daenerys too, who had no idea there were yet more dragon eggs in this world. Was it a trap? Was this Pree's doing to send them on a damned errand? She had heard of the Smoking Sea, the broken remains of an empire long gone where it was said men feared to venture and none returned. This was a clever trap indeed, were it truly Pree's doing, as her son would now move mountains to rescue this egg. Curse Pree and his projections. Daenerys doubted that the blasted egg was even real, she could not put anything past their nemesis.

Yet it had wormed its way into Rhaego's heart, this little faded egg, and so the damage had been done.

"We will first rescue our own dragons," she pronounced heavily. She then sighed and indicated with a subtle flick of her chin for Jorah to grab Rhaego again, for he was swaying worryingly from exhaustion. She could not hide the fear, bright and anxious in her eyes as she looked to her son, but she had faith in his strength and the healing power of their dragons. When they found them.

It was even more vital they rescue them soon, she knew, watching Rhaego flop like a flatbread in her knight's arms.

"Can you watch over Rhaego for me, sweet one?" she asked Nagis, as she was worried and needed someone to keep eagle sharp eyes on her son. She would rather not give the girl the burden of dragging the captives, Daenerys would take responsibility for that job, she was a queen. This left only her to keep a watch over her son and Daenerys trusted the girl and her love of Rhaego enough to entrust her with monitoring him. For now. She had discovered the hard way that no one could be fully trusted.

Nagis nodded, gazing at the knight and boy before her with a determined glint in her eyes. She would not let her Queen or Prince down. "Yes, my queen."

She did not take her eyes off of Rhaego for a second, following the rest of the party with a few missteps and clumsy moments as they made their way through the library room and to a hatch door, leading down into what was probably the underbelly of the House of the Undying.

"This is it, I can feel it." Daenerys knelt down to the crisscrossed wooden hatch and lay her palm across it, closing her eyes with a deep concentration, as if listening to something far away. Nothing. She could neither hear nor feel the dragons. Stabs of frustration coursed through her and she grit her teeth, certain that this was the correct place and unwilling to be wrong about something so important. Not after they had come all this way. Not after the toll it had taken on them all.

Her eyes flickered reluctantly to her broken son.

No, this had to be it! she fumed inwardly. No more dead ends.

"My children," she sent desperately. "Hear my call!"

Nothing.

"Where are they?" she growled at Doreah in a whirl of rage, yanking her chain with a sharp, abrupt tug. The girl was only just coming to from being knocked out, her head groggy and eyes unfocused, and she did not answer.

"Mother," a tiny voice sent out. Muffled and distorted, it did not feel like her dragons but she did not know who else it could be. Her mind tingled somehow, as if on edge, and she risked reaching out to the voice in return.

"Where are you?" She fumbled with clumsy hands at the hatch, wincing at splinters but continuing relentlessly. Her hands scrabbling for a hold of the large, solid wooden doorway leading to her only hope at rescuing her dragons. If she was wrong and they were not down there all was lost. They could not go on much further, not with Rhaego struggling so.

"Behind you," the voice snarled loudly in her mind, causing her to flinch. She spun around with wide eyes and cried out in a mixture of fear and shock to see Pree standing behind them, a smile cracking his face.

Jorah lay unconscious on the floor, the veins on his temple sticking out unnaturally, and Rhaego was slumped over Pree's shoulder, limp. A vicious stream of curses, some Daenerys did not recognise, flowed from Nagis, who was suspended in mid air, her stick thin arms swiping with futile anger at the space before her, her eyes locked on Pree with desperate rage. Pree laughed softly before discarding the child to one side and watching with fascination as her tiny body collided with the wall of this narrow corridor, bringing a squeak from her before she slumped to the ground, silent and possibly broken.

"No!" Daenerys cried in outrage, glancing between Jorah, Nagis and her son, torn. She saw Rhaego stir ever so slightly and made her choice, rushing at Pree, terrified he would succeed in plucking her final child from her grasp.

"Ah, ah ah," he chided mockingly, raising a hand and stopping her in her tracks. Every muscle froze, including those in her throat. She could not speak, could not even breath, let alone tackle the smug warlock who stood before her to the ground and fight for her son. Her lungs started to burn with lack of fresh oxygen and tears welled up in her eyes as she watched Pree weave his way around her cheerfully, moving slowly towards the hatch and opening it before disappearing down into its depths and closing it behind him, her son in tow.

Rhaego, no! Every cell in her body cried out, yet she was stilled by his magic. She tried to fight against it, regain control of her body, push her muscles to obey her, but she managed not a hair's breadth of progress.

"You amuse me, little khaleesi," Pree's voice caressed her mind, sickening her to her very core. "Because of this I shall allow you to live, for now."

Just like that his grasp on her was gone and she fell to the floor in a shuddering heap, gasping desperately for air and feeling the sting of tears as they flowed freely down her cheeks. He had her dragons and now he had taken her son. Sobs racked her body and there she stayed, discarded on the floor feeling weak and hollow, surrounded by her faithful followers, who were now both unconscious, and Doreah, who was quickly coming to and tugging weakly at her chains.

"This is all your fault," Daenerys accused with bloodshot, merciless eyes as she rounded on Doreah weakly.

Doreah, too weak to argue, held her hands to her face and whimpered. "Mercy, please khaleesi." Her voice was hoarse and her words broken in places with stuttering, almost incoherent.

Flames ran through Daenerys' blood. She felt the furious rage take hold and for a moment she imagined the satisfaction she would get from destroying this wretch. Attacking her. Hitting her until she could get rid of that pretty face for good. Yet that was not dignified, nor was it behaviour fitting for a queen, so she fought down her impulses and growled at the woman, her one time friend, to stand.

"We will find them together, but this I promise," and she met Doreah's eyes for the first time since her betrayal without anger overwhelming her only cold apathy, "there shall be no mercy. You shall meet your end, Doreah, but for the love I once bore you I shall make sure that it is quick."

There, a mercy of sorts. She felt satisfied that she had risen above her base desires to give a fair judgement to this traitor. She also felt satisfied that she had held herself together where the lure of vengeance would have made it so easy to come undone. She even felt satisfied that she had done right by both the memory of Irri but also the memory of her friendship with Doreah. None of these progressive feelings, however, could allay the dread of fear which had now grown not just for her dragons, but for her son.

He is so weak. Her hand trembled as she led Doreah forwards towards the hatch with an expression of stone. So defenseless against this monster. Her grip on the chains tightened and the scratch of metal being ground against metal was sharp in her ears. I will not let Pree have him. She clenched her teeth together fiercely as anger boiled up inside her at the thought of this man doing anything to hurt her child. All that was left in this world of Drogo.

"Khaleesi?" Jorah rasped weakly from the ground, straining to raise his head and watch what she was doing.

"Wait for me here, my knight," she ordered gently, her heart tightening as her eyes met the faithful determination in his. "Look after Nagis and gain your strength back. I shall go the rest of the way alone." She spoke with more confidence than she felt.

"No, I must protect you," he protested, pushing himself up with what little strength he had remaining.

"You already have. Now you must wait."

"Khaleesi-"

"No," she insisted stubbornly, pining him down with her most commanding glare.

"Dany," he pleaded, struggling to his feet before falling back to the ground, dazed.

She frowned. "I said no. Do you defy me, knight?"

Defeated he turned baleful eyes upon her and it took all of her will to refuse him this heartfelt request. Her faithful and staunch advisor. The closest thing she had to a father figure. "Take care of yourself and Nagis until my return," she repeated, with more of an edge in her voice this time.

Defeated, he nodded once. "As always I am yours to command, khaleesi."

She gave him a tight smile and turned back to the hatch door, trying to picture in her memory how Pree had opened it, desperate for a clue.

Doreah knelt down and, with shaking fingers worked the clasps in a way which caused them to click open. She looked up at Daenerys, pleading in her eyes.

Daenerys, startled slightly, worked the hatch open once more and felt the chill of the underground passageway embrace her. "This changes nothing, Doreah." Her tone was ice.

Doreah nodded miserably and allowed herself to be pulled to the ladder, whimpering as Daenerys made her climb down the flimsy, unsteady rope contraption with bound hands. Once Doreah was down a sufficient way Daenerys, chains in hand so her maid could not run away, lowered herself down onto the ropes and gave Jorah a last glance. The knight smiled encouragingly and she nodded back at him, smoothing out her expression to hide the fear that lurched inside her at each sway and shudder of the ladder. Doreah may whimper, but Daenerys would give no indication she was so weak.

She was a Targaryen.