A Game of Thrones Chapter Sixty-eight

DaenerysWings shadowed her fever dreams.You dont urgency to backwash the potassium hydrogen tartrate, do you?She was walking land a long h entirely at a lower buns in high spirits stone arches. She could non direct behind her, must non look behind her. in that respect was a door a train of her, petite with distance, that in metre from afar, she adage that it was painted red. She walked faster, and her b atomic number 18 feet left crashing(a) footprints on the stone.You dont want to wake the tartar, do you?She sawing machine sunlight on the Dothraki ocean, the living plain, rich with the smells of earth and death. Wind stirred the grasses, and they ripplight-emitting diode akin water system. Drogo held her in arduous arms, and his perish stroked her sex and established her and woke that sweet wetness that was his alone, and the stars smiled down on them, stars in a daylight sky. Home, she whispered as he entered her and filled her with his seed, nevertheless ex plosively the stars were ka g all overn(p), and crossways the blue sky sweep the considerable travel, and the world overlyk flame. . . . dont want to wake the dragon, do you?Ser Jorahs side of meat was worn- bug out and sorrowful. Rhaegar was the last dragon, he told her. He warmed translucent hands oer a glowing brazier where stone b all(prenominal)ocks smouldered red as coals. One moment he was there and the next he was fading, his skeleton colorless, less substantial than the tress. The last dragon, he whispered, thin as a wisp, and was gone. She snarl the dark behind her, and the red door seemed farther away than ever. . . . dont want to wake the dragon, do you?Viserys stood before her, screaming. The dragon does non beg, slut. You do not command the dragon. I am the dragon, and I impart be crowned. The molten gold trickled down his face want wax, set on fireing succinct-skulled channels in his flesh. I am the dragon and I will be crowned he shrieked, and his fingers snapped akin snakes, biting at her nipples, pinching, twisting, even as his centerfield burst and ran like jelly down awake up and sternened cheeks. . . . dont want to wake the dragon . . . The red door was so far ahead of her, and she could retrieve the icy breath behind, sweeping up on her. If it caught her she would die a death that was more than death, howling eternally alone in the darkness. She began to turn. . . . dont want to wake the dragon . . . She could heart the heat inside her, a terrible burning in her uterus. Her boy was lofty and proud, with Drogos copper skin and her own silver-gold hair, violet eye shaped like almonds. And he smiled for her and began to lift his hand toward hers, but when he plain-spokened his emit the fire poured out. She saw his heart burning through his chest, and in an twinkling he was gone, consumed like a moth by a bungholedle, rancid to ash. She wept for her pip-squeak, the assure of a sweet mouth on her breast, bu t her tears turned to steam as they fey her skin. . . . want to wake the dragon . . . Ghosts run along the hallway, dressed in the faded raiment of kings. In their hands were swords of color fire. They had hair of silver and hair of gold and hair of platinum white, and their eyeball were opal and amethyst, tourmaline and jade. Faster, they cried, faster, faster. She raced, her feet melting the stone wherever they touched. Faster the ghosts cried as one, and she screamed and threw herself forward. A great knife of pain ripped down her back, and she mat up her skin tear open and smelled the stench of burning line of business and saw the shadow of wings. And Daenerys Targaryen flew. . . . wake the dragon . . . The door loomed before her, the red door, so close, so close, the hall was a blur almost her, the cold receding behind. And now the stone was gone and she flew across the Dothraki sea, high and higher, the kelvin rippling beneath, and all that lived and breathed fled in t error from the shadow of her wings. She could smell home, she could see it, there, just beyond that door, green fields and great stone houses and arms to keep her warm, there. She threw open the door. . . . the dragon . . . And saw her brother Rhaegar, mounted on a stallion as black as his armor. Fire glimmered red through the narrow eye slit of his helm. The last dragon, Ser Jorahs voice whispered faintly. The last, the last. Dany lifted his polished black visor. The face indoors was her own.After that, for a long time, there was entirely the pain, the fire within her, and the whisperings of stars.She woke to the taste of ashes.No, she moaned, no, please.Khaleesi? Jhiqui hovered over her, a frightened doe.The populate was drenched in shadow, s manger and close. Flakes of ash drifted upward from a brazier, and Dany followed them with her eyes through the smoke fix above. Flying, she model. I had wings, I was flying. But it was altogether a dream. Help me, she whispered, strugg ling to rise. Bring me . . . Her voice was raw as a wound, and she could not think what she cute. wherefore did she hurt so ofttimes? It was as if her body had been torn to pieces and remake from the scraps. I want . . . Yes, Khaleesi. Quick as that Jhiqui was gone, bolting from the bivouac, shouting. Dany needed . . . something . . . someone . . . what? It was important, she k upstart. It was the only thing in the world that mattered. She involute onto her side and got an elbow under her, fighting the blanket tangled close to her legs. It was so arduous to move. The world swam dizzily. I render to . . .They put in her on the carpet, crawling toward her dragon eggs. Ser Jorah Mormont lifted her in his arms and carried her back to her remaindering silks, while she struggled feebly against him. Over his shoulder she saw her three handmaids, Jhogo with his minuscule wisp of mustache, and the tied(p) broad face of Mirri Maz Duur. I must, she tried to tell them, I have to . . . . . . sleep, Princess, Ser Jorah give tongue to.No, Dany said. Please. Please.Yes. He covered her with silk, though she was burning. Sleep and grow strong again, Khaleesi. Come back to us. And then Mirri Maz Duur was there, the maegi, tipping a cup against her lips. She tasted sour milk, and something else, something thick and bitter. Warm liquid ran down her chin. Somehow she swallowed. The tent grew dimmer, and sleep took her again. This time she did not dream. She floated, serene and at peace, on a black sea that knew no shore.After a timea night, a day, a year, she could not sayshe woke again. The tent was dark, its silken walls flapping like wings when the wind gusted outdoors. This time Dany did not attempt to rise. Irri, she called, Jhiqui. Doreah. They were there at in one case. My throat is dry, she said, so dry, and they brought her water. It was warm and flat, notwithstanding Dany drank it eagerly, and sent Jhiqui for more. Irri dampened a flocculent material a nd stroked her brow. I have been sick, Dany said. The Dothraki girl nodded. How long? The cloth was soothing, but Irri seemed so sad, it frightened her. broad, she whispered. When Jhiqui returned with more water, Mirri Maz Duur came with her, eyes heavy from sleep. Drink, she said, lifting Danys head to the cup once more, but this time it was only wine. Sweet, sweet wine. Dany drank, and lay back, listening to the soft sound of her own breathing. She could feel the heaviness in her limbs, as sleep crept in to fill her up once more. Bring me . . . she murmured, her voice slurred and drowsy. Bring . . . I want to hold . . . Yes? the maegi asked. What is it you wish, Khaleesi?Bring me . . . egg . . . dragons egg . . . please . . . Her lashes turned to lead, and she was too weary to hold them up.When she woke the third time, a shaft of golden sunlight was pouring through the smoke hole of the tent, and her arms were wrapped around a dragons egg. It was the pale one, its scales the c olor of butter cream, veined with whorls of gold and bronze, and Dany could feel the heat of it. Beneath her bedsilks, a picturesque sheen of perspiration covered her bare skin. Dragondew, she thought. Her fingers trailed lightly across the come on of the shell, tracing the wisps of gold, and deep in the stone she felt something twist and spread in response. It did not frighten her. All her fear was gone, burned away.Dany touched her brow. Under the film of sweat, her skin was cool to the touch, her fever gone. She made herself sit. thither was a moment of dizziness, and the deep ache between her thighs. save she felt strong. Her maids came running at the sound of her voice. Water, she told them, a flagon of water, cold as you can find it. And fruit, I think. Dates.As you say, Khaleesi.I want Ser Jorah, she said, standing. Jhiqui brought a sandsilk adorn and draped it over her shoulders. And a warm bath, and Mirri Maz Duur, and . . . Memory came back to her all at once, and sh e faltered. Khal Drogo, she forced herself to say, watching their faces with dread. Is he&038mdash?The khal lives, Irri answered quietly . . . withal Dany saw a darkness in her eyes when she said the words, and no kind of had she spoken than she rushed away to fetch water.She turned to Doreah. pronounce me.I . . . I shall bring Ser Jorah, the Lysene girl said, bowing her head and fleeing the tent.Jhiqui would have run as well, but Dany caught her by the wrist and held her captive. What is it? I must know. Drogo . . . and my child. wherefore had she not remembered the child until now? My son . . . Rhaego . . . where is he? I want him.Her handmaid lowered her eyes. The boy . . . he did not live, Khaleesi. Her voice was a frightened whisper.Dany released her wrist. My son is dead, she thought as Jhiqui left the tent. She had cognize somehow. She had known since she woke the introductory time to Jhiquis tears. No, she had known before she woke. Her dream came back to her, sudden an d vivid, and she remembered the tall man with the copper skin and long silver-gold braid, bursting into flame.She should weep, she knew, yet her eyes were dry as ash. She had wept in her dream, and the tears had turned to steam on her cheeks. All the grief has been burned out of me, she told herself. She felt sad, and yet . . . she could feel Rhaego receding from her, as if he had never been.Ser Jorah and Mirri Maz Duur entered a few moments later, and found Dany standing over the other dragons eggs, the two still in their chest. It seemed to her that they felt as hot as the one she had slept with, which was passing strange. Ser Jorah, come here, she said. She took his hand and placed it on the black egg with the scarlet swirls. What do you feel?Shell, hard as rock. The knight was wary. Scales.Heat?No. Cold stone. He took his hand away. Princess, are you well? Should you be up, weak as you are?Weak? I am strong, Jorah. To please him, she reclined on a trade of cushions. Tell me how my child died.He never lived, my princess. The women say . . . He faltered, and Dany saw how the flesh hung loose on him, and the way he limped when he moved.Tell me. Tell me what the women say. He turned his face away. His eyes were haunted. They say the child was . . . She waited, but Ser Jorah could not say it. His face grew dark with shame. He looked half a corpse himself.Monstrous, Mirri Maz Duur finished for him. The knight was a powerful man, yet Dany understood in that moment that the maegi was stronger, and crueler, and infinitely more dangerous. Twisted. I move him forth myself. He was scaled like a lizard, blind, with the stub of a tail and small leather wings like the wings of a bat. When I touched him, the flesh sloughed off the bone, and inside he was replete(p) of graveworms and the stink of corruption. He had been dead for years.Darkness, Dany thought. The terrible darkness sweeping up behind to devour her. If she looked back she was lost. My son was alive and s trong when Ser Jorah carried me into this tent, she said. I could feel him kicking, fighting to be born.That may be as it may be, answered Mirri Maz Duur, yet the creature that came forth from your womb was as I said. remainder was in that tent, Khaleesi.Only shadows, Ser Jorah husked, but Dany could hear the doubt in his voice. I saw, maegi. I saw you, alone, dancing with the shadows. The grave casts long shadows, Iron Lord, Mirri said. Long and dark, and in the end no light can hold them back.Ser Jorah had killed her son, Dany knew. He had done what he did for love and loyalty, yet he had carried her into a place no living man should go and fed her baby to the darkness. He knew it too the grey face, the hollow eyes, the limp. The shadows have touched you too, Ser Jorah, she told him. The knight made no reply. Dany turned to the godswife. You warned me that only death could pay for life. I thought you meant the horse.No, Mirri Maz Duur said. That was a lie you told yourself. You knew the price.Had she? Had she? If I look back I am lost. The price was paid, Dany said. The horse, my child, Quaro and Qotho, Haggo and Cohollo. The price was paid and paid and paid. She rose from her cushions. Where is Khal Drogo? Show him to me, godswife, maegi, ancestrymage, any(prenominal) you are. Show me Khal Drogo. Show me what I bought with my sons life.As you command, Khaleesi, the old char said. Come, I will take you to him.Dany was weaker than she knew. Ser Jorah slipped an arm around her and helped her stand. Time enough for this later, my princess, he said quietly.I would see him now, Ser Jorah.After the dimness of the tent, the world outside was blinding bright. The sun burned like molten gold, and the land was heat and empty. Her handmaids waited with fruit and wine and water, and Jhogo moved close to help Ser Jorah support her. Aggo and Rakharo stood behind. The brilliance of sun on sand made it hard to see more, until Dany increase her hand to shade her eyes. She saw the ashes of a fire, a few nominate horses milling listlessly and searching for a bite of grass, a spread of tents and bedrolls. A small crowd of children had gathered to watch her, and beyond she glimpsed women waiver about their work, and withered old men staring at the flat blue sky with tired eyes, swatting feebly at bloodflies. A expect might show a hundred people, no more. Where the other 40 thousand had made their camp, only the wind and dust lived now.Drogos khalasar is gone, she said.A khal who cannot mount up is no khal, said Jhogo.The Dothraki follow only the strong, Ser Jorah said. I am sorry, my princess. There was no way to hold them. Ko Pono left first, naming himself Khal Pono, and umpteen followed him. Jhaqo was not long to do the same. The rest slipped away night by night, in large bands and small. There are a dozen new khalasars on the Dothraki sea, where once there was only Drogos.The old remain, said Aggo. The frightened, the weak, and the sick. And we who swore. We remain.They took Khal Drogos herds, Khaleesi, Rakharo said. We were too few to stop them. It is the right of the strong to take from the weak. They took many slaves as well, the khals and yours, yet they left some few.Eroeh? asked Dany, remembering the frightened child she had deliver outside the city of the Lamb Men.Mago seized her, who is Khal Jhaqos bloodrider now, said Jhogo. He mounted her high and low and gave her to his khal, and Jhaqo gave her to his other bloodriders. They were six. When they were done with her, they cut her throat.It was her fate, Khaleesi, said Aggo.If I look back I am lost. It was a cruel fate, Dany said, yet not so cruel as Magos will be. I promise you that, by the old gods and the new, by the lamb god and the horse god and either god that lives. I swear it by the Mother of Mountains and the Womb of the World. in the lead I am done with them, Mago and Ko Jhaqo will plead for the lenience they showed Eroeh.The Dothraki exchanged uncertain glances. Khaleesi, the handmaid Irri explained, as if to a child, Jhaqo is a khal now, with 20 thousand riders at his back.She lifted her head. And I am Daenerys Stormhorn, Daenerys of House Targaryen, of the blood of Aegon the Conqueror and Maegor the Cruel and old Valyria before them. I am the dragons daughter, and I swear to you, these men will die screaming. Now bring me to Khal Drogo.He was lying on the bare red earth, staring up at the sun.A dozen bloodflies had settled on his body, though he did not seem to feel them. Dany brushed them away and knelt beside him. His eyes were wide open but did not see, and she knew at once that he was blind. When she whispered his name, he did not seem to hear. The wound on his breast was as recovered(p) as it would ever be, the scar that covered it grey and red and hideous.Why is he out here alone, in the sun? she asked them.He seems to like the warmth, Princess, Ser Jorah said. His eyes follow the sun, though he does not see it . He can walk after a fashion. He will go where you lead him, but no farther. He will eat if you put food in his mouth, drink if you dribble water on his lips.Dany kissed her sun-and-stars piano on the brow, and stood to face Mirri Maz Duur. Your spells are costly, maegi.He lives, said Mirri Maz Duur. You asked for life. You paid for life.This is not life, for one who was as Drogo was. His life was laughter, and meat roasting over a firepit, and a horse between his legs. His life was an arakh in his hand and his bells sonorousness in his hair as he rode to meet an enemy. His life was his bloodriders, and me, and the son I was to give him.Mirri Maz Duur made no reply.When will he be as he was? Dany demanded.When the sun rises in the westernmost and sets in the east, said Mirri Maz Duur. When the seas go dry and mountains blow in the wind like leaves. When your womb quickens again, and you bear a living child. wherefore he will return, and not before.Dany gestured at Ser Jorah and the others. Leave us. I would speak with this maegi alone. Mormont and the Dothraki withdrew. You knew, Dany said when they were gone. She ached, inside and out, but her fury gave her strength. You knew what I was buying, and you knew the price, and yet you let me pay it.It was wrong of them to burn my temple, the heavy, flat-nosed woman said placidly. That angered the Great Shepherd.This was no gods work, Dany said coldly. If I look back I am lost. You cheated me. You murdered my child within me.The stallion who mounts the world will burn no cities now. His khalasar shall trample no nations into dust.I spoke for you, she said, anguished. I saved you.Saved me? The Lhazareen woman spat. trine riders had taken me, not as a man takes a woman but from behind, as a dog takes a bitch. The fourth was in me when you rode past. How then did you save me? I saw my gods house burn, where I had meliorate good men beyond counting. My home they burned as well, and in the street I saw piles of h eads. I saw the head of a baker who made my bread. I saw the head of a boy I had saved from deadeye fever, only three moons past. I comprehend children crying as the riders drove them off with their whips. Tell me again what you saved.Your life.Mirri Maz Duur laughed cruelly. hold off to your khal and see what life is worth, when all the rest is gone.Dany called out for the men of her khas and legal tender them take Mirri Maz Duur and bind her hand and foot, but the maegi smiled at her as they carried her off, as if they shared a secret. A word, and Dany could have her head off . . . yet then what would she have? A head? If life was worthless, what was death?They led Khal Drogo back to her tent, and Dany commanded them to fill a tub, and this time there was no blood in the water. She bathed him herself, washing the dirt and the dust from his arms and chest, cleaning his face with a soft cloth, soaping his long black hair and combing the knots and tangles from it till it shone aga in as she remembered. It was well past dark before she was done, and Dany was exhausted. She stop for drink and food, but it was all she could do to nibble at a fig and keep down a mouthful of water. Sleep would have been a release, but she had slept enough . . . too long, in truth. She owed this night to Drogo, for all the nights that had been, and yet might be.The memory of their first ride was with her when she led him out into the darkness, for the Dothraki believed that all things of importance in a mans life must be done beneath the open sky. She told herself that there were powers stronger than hatred, and spells older and truer than any the maegi had knowledgeable in Asshai. The night was black and moonless, but overhead a gazillion stars burned bright. She took that for an omen.No soft blanket of grass welcomed them here, only the hard dusty ground, bare and strewn with stones. No trees stirred in the wind, and there was no stream to soothe her fears with the gentle music of water. Dany told herself that the stars would be enough. Remember, Drogo, she whispered. Remember our first ride together, the day we wed. Remember the night we made Rhaego, with the khalasar all around us and your eyes on my face. Remember how cool and clean the water was in the Womb of the World. Remember, my sun-and-stars. Remember, and come back to me.The birth had left her too raw and torn to take him inside of her, as she would have wanted, but Doreah had taught her other ways. Dany used her hands, her mouth, her breasts. She raked him with her nails and covered him with kisses and whispered and prayed and told him stories, and by the end she had bathed him with her tears. Yet Drogo did not feel, or speak, or rise.And when the bleak dawn broke over an empty horizon, Dany knew that he was truly lost to her. When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east, she said sadly. When the seas go dry and mountains blow in the wind like leaves. When my womb quickens again, and I bear a living child. Then you will return, my sun-and-stars, and not before.Never, the darkness cried, never never never.Inside the tent Dany found a cushion, soft silk stuffed with feathers. She clutched it to her breasts as she walked back out to Drogo, to her sun-and-stars. If I look back I am lost. It hurt even to walk, and she wanted to sleep, to sleep and not to dream.She knelt, kissed Drogo on the lips, and pressed the cushion down across his face.