Sacrifice | Daenerys Targaryen

-6-

Across the skies there flies a ball of fire, hurdling through the blue abyss as a small group of Dothraki continue their trek through the desert.

The Khaleesi walks with her dragons on her arms and shoulders, and the fiery-haired woman rides one of the only horses with her daughter as Jorah watches from afar.

He knows the deep and unsettling truth as he gazes at the child, but it's a truth the mother would not be able to bare.

The trek has gone on for weeks, so many that the count has been lost. All are tired and thirsty, yet all have faith in their Khaleesi.

Daenerys feels a mother's pull to do whatever she can to protect her dragons. Her options are limited and her people and weak. She feels as though she's failed them as the horse her late husband falls to the ground to be reunited with the Khal, but one look into Lyla's eyes, and all that pain goes away. Daenerys's eyes meet hers as she stays in her saddle, clutching the frail child in her arms.

Two women who carry the heavy burden of motherhood.

Daenerys finds strength in Lyla's eyes. She needs no words to escape her lips in order to feel the love they share for one another. It is a feeling that shall never be fleeting. Daenerys stands up on her slightly wobbly legs, but appears as a strong and wise leader as she guides her people further into the Red Waste.

And though Lyla believes in Daenerys wholeheartedly, her child has not opened her eyes in days. All Aera can do it sleep, and all Lyla can do is listen to the faint sounds of her breath. Aera's pale skin is hot and red, nearly as red as her mother's hair.

They make due with what they can. They create a small and humble shelter, one that protects them from the heat, and they wait. They wait for one of their riders to return from their mission. Three Dothraki in three vastly different direction, meant to ride for Gods know how long, leaving little hope for those whom remain.

Countless hours, if not days past.

Lyla cannot hold her daughter due to the sweltering heat, but keeps her within arm's reach at all times. The mother has little time to worry about her own health, for her mind is occupied by thoughts about her child. She panics every time a breath is delayed and meticulously watches each bead of sweat that drips down her skin. Lyla uses whatever scraps of food they come by in order to feed Aera. She always gives her rations of water to Aera so she has double.

But even with all of the aid and care, Aera's health is worse than her mother's.

Ser Jorah meekly extends his arm over to the red head, offering her a canister of water, to which she instantly brings to her daughter's lips.

" For you," Jorah insists, " Please drink."

Lyla seems almost confused for a moment. She blinks as her mind attempts to function under the glare of the sun, soon realizing that her voice is unable to be used due to her dry mouth. Her lips are white and cracked, for she has not had a drop of water in ages.

She hastfully brings the canister to her lips, and nearly moans as she feels her thirst being quenched from the lukewarm water. It's absolutely divine, and it gives Ser Jorah the faintest smile to see Lyla finally taking care of herself.

The Gods seem to have cursed Daenerys and her Khalassar, for the head of her great rider is brought to her on horse back. The wife of Rakharo wails as she mourns the death of her husband, while Dany tries her best to keep it together.

The Dothraki are not pleased with a woman leading a Khalassar, but the Khaleesi is determined to bring her people to safety. She must not only for herself and for her people... but for Lyla. Her sweet, sweet Lyla. And through Daenerys's love-fueled determination comes a gift. A passage to Qarth, a long journey that leaves their bodies aching as they stand before the gates, watching as the army marches in the sand.