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It was the day of finalising her purchase of the Unsullied, and Rhaenar was nervous

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It was the day of finalising her purchase of the Unsullied, and Rhaenar was nervous. Her hands shook as she secured the collar of her dress, Qotho standing in the back. The blue fabric felt tight against her skin, constricting as she fumbled with the fabric once more. "Are they going to disrespect you again, Khaleesi?" He asked as he fiddled with a vase on the side, throwing it softly from one to another.


Rhaenar looked back, undoing the buttons of her dress before walking back behind her screen. "Most likely." She slipped the dress from her shoulders, picking up a floaty white one.


"Why do you let them do that?" Slipping it over her body, she waltzed back out to the mirror, unsure.


"Because we need the Unsullied, Qotho. We can't do this unless we have man-power." Rhaenar turned from one side to another, hating the look of it. She couldn't wear this, she thought, as she disappeared once more behind the changing screen. Gods, it shouldn't have been this hard to find a dress. She grasped a cornflower blue cape, wrapping it around her shoulders as she left the confines of the screen. He had moved to sit on her bed, his body stretched out across the cover, as his eyes searched the ceiling. She kneeled beside him, tugging her legs beneath her body as she faced him. "Once we have the Unsullied, Kraznys will meet his fate."


Qotho looked at her. "You are our Khaleesi, how are we as a people supposed to stand by while you're being mistreated? Khal Drogo would never have allowed it." The name brought a bitter sadness to her as she nodded, resting her hands on her lap. She missed her husband dearly, it had almost been half a year since his death and it never stopped producing heartache.


"Khal Drogo is not here, Qotho. We both know that. Tomorrow, Kraznys will be dead, and we will have an army."

His warm eyes drifted up, meeting her own. "An army of men without manhoods." She pushed his shoulders, rolling her eyes. Of course Qotho would focus on that. "What? It's true, Khaleesi; you should never trust a man without a cock."


Rhaenar laughed softly. "I beg to disagree; they're the only men you can trust." Qotho reached out, pulling her down beside him. "I can trust you, can't I?" Qotho had previously been one of Drogo's brothers, his bloodrider; one of the highest honours a Dothraki could have with their Khal. Known to have a hard exterior, she couldn't help but think how Qotho had defrosted in the past few months. Not only toying with Rhaenar, but becoming a trusted advisor like he was to Drogo.


He looked to her, his eyes warm as he nodded. "You can trust me as much as Drogo did. You are my Khaleesi, and I will follow you to the Night Lands if I have to." His hand reached out, but hovered in the air between them. He was hesitant as her eyes landed on the hand before flickering back up, a silence passing between them. The hesitation withdrew from his eyes as his hand settled beside her, Qotho's mouth turning to a thin line. Silent words hung heavy in the air as they remained looking at one another, his eyes falling to her lips before locking eyes once more. Qotho dared to move his head closer to his Khaleesi, waiting for any sign of her pulling away.

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