Mother Of Dragons

Chapter 20

Drogo was up before the sun, having never really fallen asleep. He had managed to nod off at one point, but he'd been brought out of his brief slumber by his wife's mouth on his body. He couldn't refuse her and his goal had been achieved; Daenerys hadn't had a chance to cry most of the night. He knew if he didn't get up and get moving, his body was going to be sore from his efforts. He kissed her softly on her forehead, the salt from her sweat still clinging to her and she smelled better than anything he'd ever inhaled. They'd managed to fuck each other sore, and she had that sweet, sweet tang clinging to her skin everywhere. She'd sleep most of the day, he hoped. His son needed a chance to grow strong.

He decided that it was a good day to train, despite his exhaustion. He'd retrieve his arakh from the slaves and go spar with Qotho and Cohollo. Maybe a challenge to Jommo to see how strong his newest bloodrider really was. It would take him beyond the city walls, so he whistled for his red stallion and walked to the neighboring small house. Calling to Irri, he was pleased that she was immediately in front of him as a good one would. "Don't let Daenerys out of your sight," he commanded her, and mounted his horse, deciding to leave his saddle at home. No need to get all geared for just a short ride.

Sweating and exhausted several hours later, he sat in the grass with several of his riders. A fire was lit, and they were roasting the rabbits they'd managed to hunt in the grass between sparring matches. He'd already had a drink, so was content to sit and watch the herd of wild horses that roamed just outside the city. The lake was calm and the land around it was green and fertile. A light wind was making the grass move like the waves on the sea near Pentos.

He briefly thought about Daenerys, wondering if she was still sleeping before downing what was left in his cup and looking up at the sky. Not a chance she was still sleeping. He let his thoughts wander back to the night before, the memory of her breasts coming to the forefront of his mind. Reddened from his beard, nipples hotly pink and hard, he'd cupped and held her until she'd moved his hands away, the stimulation too much for her by their third or fourth round. He grinned to himself. He'd lost count. It had been a long, enjoyable night.

"Stop thinking of the Khaleesi's tits," Cohollo taunted, coming up to him and handing him a chunk of meat.

"I can think on them all I like. She's mine," Drogo retorted, seizing the meat and eating hungrily.

"A hrakkar has moved into the valley," Cohollo observed, looking out toward the vast valley of grass. "Word is that it hunted the caravan and picked off a few pigs."

"Better the pigs than the sacred wild horses," Drogo answered between bites. "We'll wait and see if it moves on. They're becoming too scarce to hunt."

Cohollo nodded. "If it starts picking off the herd . . . "

"Then you will join my hunting party to kill it," Drogo promised. He suddenly had a vision of Daenerys with the giant white lion's pelt wrapped around her nude body and a smile on her face. Oh fuck, he thought, keeping his groan to himself at his body's reaction. Again?

Cohollo took one look at him and laughed. "I know what you're thinking," he teased. "Come, be with the men for the day. Get that Khaleesi of yours out of your head."

"She is my Moon," Drogo answered. "You can't forget the Moon."

"I can, if I have enough friends and drink about," Qotho answered, tossing a stripped bone into the grass and coming to stand in front of his Khal. "Get off your lazy ass and try to hit me with that shitty child's blade."

Drogo stood. His arakh was the finest crafted in several khalasars. It had been a bride gift for Daenerys, who had followed tradition and refused the weapon, instead insisting that her husband wield it for them both. "Shitty child's blade?" he roared out, laughing. "Look to your own pitted steel, asshole!" and swung out at him, starting a whole new series of matches and laughter.