The Khal and Khaleesi of Westeros

Chapter V

Waking is often a hard task, even more so when you are with child. Every morning seems to be a struggle to get up because I always wake up exhausted. Every night I was getting sick and the healers informed me that this was normal. But it didn't feel normal. So here I sat, admiring one of the dragon eggs my husband received, trying to stave off illness. "You look pale, my love." Daenerys told me from the tent entrance.

I look up at him, eyes half shut. Then I looked at the egg again before my eyes landed on the brightly smoldering coals that were once a fire. I place the egg down as my body forces my meal back up my throat and into the bucket by my side. Once I was finished being sick, an idea came to me. I move the short distance over to the coals and place the egg inside. I knew that dragon eggs were told to be born from the breath of their mother's flames.

So there I knelt as Daenerys moved to sit with me. I watched, hoping for a sign that there were still living babies in these eggs but there was nothing. "Khaleesi, Khal?" My handmaiden asks from the doorway as Daenerys reaches into the fire and picks up the egg. This causes her to gasp and rush over as I too panic. "Daenerys!" I scold before I try and take the egg from him, dropping it back into the fire as it burns me.

Daenerys takes my hands with the same look of scolding on his face. But I take one of my seared hands and grab one of his own. There was no charred flesh or burning. "You're hurt, my Khaleesi." Daenerys says to me, once again taking my hands into his own. I shrug and sigh, feeling tired once more. So, I let Daenerys baby me. I let him care for my hands and tuck me into bed for the night so I would still be there when he came back to bed.

Which lead me to today. Dressed in the ceremonial dress my mother wore for me as everyone chants around me. Daenerys remained quiet as I performed the ceremony, knowing only that it was to reveal what we were having. Daenerys hoped for a girl, a future Khaleesi. I hoped for a child that was as great as my husband and my brother. A son who would rule the Dothraki when I passed. "Khalakka dothrae!" The priestess announces.

All the while the chanting continued. Rakh! Rakh! Rakh haj! Repetition while I knelt consuming the heart of a horse. Even being Dothraki, I was struggling as the blood slipped through my fingers and spread across my face. "She has to eat the whole heart?" I heard Viserys question Ser Jorah while I ate. For a minute I thought I heard worry in the curiosity, but then his became a prick again, saying that he hoped it wasn't his horse.

It was, I made sure it was. "She is doing well. Even being born Dothraki, the first ceremony is the hardest." Ser Jorah informs Viserys and I focus on them and their conversation. An anchor to keep me grounded while I consumed the great beast's heart. "She'll never keep it down." Viserys scoffs as I continue, deciding to move my anchor. My eyes met Daenerys and he smiled at me, kindly. Then, I met the eyes of my brother.

Great pride was reflected back to me. Blood was slipping into my cleavage as I continued to force down the unpleasant feast. It was a miracle I hadn't been sick yet since I seemed to be going through a spell of it. Vomiting every time I tried to eat to the point where the healers were worried I wouldn't make it or I would lose my baby. "Tell me what she's saying." My ear drew back to Viserys and Ser Jorah at this comment.

"'The prince is riding. I have heard the thunder of his hooves. Swift as the wind he rides. His enemies will cower before him and their wives will weep tears of blood.'" He translates for Viserys and I smile continuing to stuff the heart down into my stomach. I could feel the bile trying to rise but I fought it. It was a son, he was going to be a baby boy and I knew it. "She's going to have a boy." Ser Jorah told Viserys plainly.

I smiled into the heart as I continued, so close to the end of the line. Blood dripped from my chin and my elbows, ruining the ceremonial clothes that were passed from generation to generation. Drogo's wife would have worn these clothes before me if he could have produced a child. It wasn't that he couldn't get an erection, it was that his seed couldn't produce a child. "He won't be a real Targaryen." Viserys states firmly.