Crowns and Cruel Intentions || Game of Thrones

25| 𝔰𝔞𝔢𝔯𝔶𝔞

qarth, essos

— QARTH WAS STUNNING, NOTHING SHORT OF A MIRACULOUS REPRIEVE AFTER THE RED WASTE. And the home of Xaro Xhoan Daxos, the richest man in Qarth, was more than the Targaryens and their small Khalasar could possibly need, could ever ask for. There would be a price, Saerya was sure, but for now she just couldn't bring herself to care. Not when the red sand that she was almost certain the heat of the sun and her sweat had baked permanently onto her skin was washed away in a warm bath and she could drink and eat to her heart's delight and when she looked out of her bedroom window in the morning she had a clear view of the sea, could feel it's cool breeze on her cheeks.

Now that they were safe, she also had more time to spend with her dragons. They couldn't fly yet, but they'd give it their best shot, flapping furiously as they hopped across furniture and squeaking in frustration when it didn't work. The sight of them always made Saerya chuckle. They enjoyed her company too, nuzzling up against her whenever she sat, their scales radiating a comforting heat.

Now she sat in her sister's room by the window where Daenerys' dragon, Drogon paced about with small flaps of his wings. Dany dropped a small piece of meat in front of him. The dragons didn't seem incredibly fond of raw meat as they couldn't hunt it and kill it fresh for themselves yet, but the girls thought that perhaps they'd found the solution to that problem. Drogon stared at the meat, curious.

"Dracarys." They watched and waited as he shifted, tilting his head. Daenerys smiled. "Dracarys." she tried again, emphasising the Old Valyrian word more this time. He chirped, giving a tiny growl before opening his mouth and shooting a small stream of flame out at the meat. Saerya giggled delightedly while Dany grinned. As she retreated back into the room, Saerya let the tiny reptile climb into the hand to place him back in his crate for sleep.

Daenerys and Irri spoke quietly in Dothraki for a moment before the Khaleesi's other handmaiden, Doreah, approached with a smile. "Did you see the dresses Xaro had made for you?" she held them splayed gently over her arms, two identical dresses of light, fluttering blue fabric, patterned gold with actual gold in some places, carved with elegantly curling and rippling patterns around the midsection and over the shoulders from which the fabric swooped down the back like a featherlight cloak of sorts. "They say he's the richest man in Qarth."

"It is known." Irri agreed.

"And if Qarth is the wealthiest city in Essos..." a lilt of a suggestive nature entered her tone now.

Daenerys chuckled. "The last time a rich man gave me a dress, he was selling me to Khal Drogo." Her smile faded with his name. She may have been sold, but she'd loved him still. Saerya had witnessed it, and the grief of his death still lingered.

"May he ride forever through the night lands." Irri intoned quietly. It was then that Saelyra realised that she was now just older than Daenerys had been just over a year ago when she had been married to Khal Drogo. Saerya couldn't imagine marrying anyone at this age... or any age, really, come to think of it. People spoke of honour and love, but she'd been betrothed to Viserys. She of all people knew how commonly lords treated their wives more like broodmares than ladies.

"Xaro is our host, but we know nothing about him." Daenerys spoke up after a moment, pulling Saerya back to the present. She glanced at Doreah, a flash in her eye and a tiny smirk ghosting over her lips. "Men like to talk about other men... when they're happy."

Doreah chuckled in understanding before laying the dresses out on the beds. "You two would look like real princesses in Xaro's-"

"They are not princess! They are Khaleesi and Khalakka!" Irri snapped. Saerya had noticed some time ago that the two did not get along. Not that it was a great mystery. A cynical Pentoshi whore and a faithful Dothraki handmaiden? Irri, quickly recognising her little outburst, ducked her head apologetically. "You.. should wear it, Khaleesi." she smiled a little, though it looked forced. "You are their guest. It would be rude not to."