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❝IT IS ONE THING TO HEAR ABOUT DRAGONS... IT'S ANOTHER TO SEE THEM FOR YOURSELF❞
GAME OF THRONES
SEASONS 1-AU 8 & beyond
DAENERYSxOCxOC
! ANY AND ALL SEXUAL SCENES WI...
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DAENERYS' bloodriders have yet to return and the shortage of water and food grew no better. Still, they wandered, trekking on until they found a new patch of shade for relief or any amount of vegetation that they all forced themselves to consume. Vaegon had never thought he'd find himself eating grass to ease away the ever present rolling of his growling belly, nor did he think he'd be forced to bury himself in sand during the heat of the sun to find some sort of relief from the heat. Ever since they'd reluctantly entered the waste, they'd been forced to do many things one might find unsanitary or strange.
His hair had grown an exceptional amount since the last time he'd taken the time to shear it away and his ragged Dothraki clothes were dirtier than ever and anything less than pleasant smelling. Amid his current conditions, he'd lost count of the number of days they'd been in the waste— or perhaps it had already been a moon or two? He wasn't sure but he knew it had been long enough for his days to blur together and his sense of reality and sanity to slowly break away. The only thing that drove him forward was his determination to save Daenerys and their dragons.
The retinue walked at the height of day, when the sun was highest and the heat blistered down upon their skin. They'd lost another Dothraki the night before, an old man who had all but been consumed by exhaustion and had slipped away in his sleep just as many others had before him. He'd pushed harder than many others, but he didn't try hard enough. They'd allowed time in the morning for the Dothraki to properly bury the man before they'd continued in the direction they were currently heading.
Vaegon wasn't praying for the Dothraki to perish, but he soon began to realize that the scarce amount rations they'd been forced to prolong began to disappear far less quickly the more of the people they were forced to leave behind. It was a tragedy to lose them, but also a blessing in disguise.
His mind wandered to and fro as they walked, dwelling on anything and everything he could possibly think of so that his hunger and thirst wouldn't drive him mad. One of his hands shielded the sun from his eyes while his other gripped Daenerys' hand. Near them, Ser Jorah walked, he looking no better than they did.
"I don't want to give up," Daenerys muttered. It was the first time that any of them had spoken in a while. Most of them had chosen to suffer in silence. "But we must face we will never leave this place."
"Don't say such things," Vaegon softly scolded her. "We'll get out of here. There are still two of your bloodriders left. They'll return soon."
"Perhaps they will return," she muttered. "But by then, I'm sure it'll be too late."
Her pessimism wasn't helping his own, so he turned his direction toward the knight. "Ser Jorah, what do you think? Are we close to find a city?"
He shrugged, a weak frown on his lips. The waste had taken a toll on the older man, the damage apparent in his sunburned skin and weary look. "I wish I knew, Your Grace. We've traveled east, I know that, but I cannot tell you how far. The only thing I know is that we're headed in the right direction. We have the sun to thank for that."
