She’d had to barter for the meat; she only went with a few coins, having only envisioned herself buying only a few lumps of meat for the newly hatched dragons. But a thought had crossed her mind; if she fed them more, would they grow twice as fast? Dragons truly were mystical creatures, anything could happen right?
So she bartered with the market seller, almost begged him for a few extra scraps; they were pretty much fat, but she’d take what she could get. So with a gleaming smile, she soaks up the sun as she walks back to Xaro’s palace. Usually the guards were stood at the doors, but it was oddly silent, too silent; had she really been gone that long?
She glances around, trying to catch sight of them, perhaps they were doing their rounds? With a shrug of her tiny shoulders, she pushes her way inside, smile renewed at being a few steps closer to those beautiful dragons; she’s sure that Drogon would love the gift she’s brought him.
But she stops, mouth dropping open; blood decorates the wall and floor, a gruesome decoration for such a beautiful home of wealth and fortune. She feels the bile rise in her throat and she barely swallows it back down as her feet drag across the ground, careful to avoid the bodies that littered the floor.
Goosebumps erupt across her forearms and she clutches the meat closer to her chest, somehow hoping it’ll protect her; perhaps an arm full of meat could take down the assassin’s that have killed the guards that protected her and her Khaleesi.
Her eyes widen; was her Khaleesi safe? She storms up the steps, almost tripping in her haste, but eventually she finds her way to the top, arms still clutched around the meat as she barges through the door to her Queen’s bed chamber.
Daenerys is on the floor, staring forlornly up at the tiny cages that housed her newborn dragons and Doreah just stops. She only just manages to tear her eyes away when Xaro excuses himself, voice soft, and clicks the door shut behind them.
“My dragons…” Daenerys whispers, voice low and rough, “Where are my dragons?!”
And Doreah quakes, arms dropping to her sides, the meat that she had bought specially for the tiny dragons littering the floor. Daenerys’ eyes trek down to where one lump of meat rolls toward her. With a frown, she picks it up between her thumb and forefinger and almost seems to exam it.
“Drogon would have loved this…” And then her lips curl into a snarl as she stands to her feet, that one lump of meat clutched in her shaking hand as she walks toward Doreah, “They will pay for this.”
“Khaleesi.” Doreah reaches for her Queen’s wrist, pulling away as if burnt when Daenerys turns and stares right at her, eyes burning with anger. “Allow me to help you.” Then she adds, softly, eyes shining with unshed tears; she loved those dragons too, “Please.”
And Daenerys sighs, glancing down to her clutched hand and finally unclenches it, watching as the meat fall with a soft thud to the floor, “I would like that.”
Doreah smiles, “Then lets go get your dragons back,”
And she walks out of the room, unaware that her Queen smiles and whispers a soft, “Our dragons,” Before following.