"Shirak Qiya."
"That's what many people call it."
Jhiqui answered her Khaleesi's question, explaining how the Dothraki referred to the blazing red comet that stretched across half the night sky.
Jhiqui had been born into a khalasar that once opposed Khal Drogo. After her people were defeated, she became a slave and was later gifted to Daenerys as a wedding present, tasked with teaching her the Dothraki language and customs.
"It means the Bleeding Star," she explained.
"A miraculous sign."
Daenerys sat on the stone steps of Khal Drogo's magnificent palace in Vaes Dothrak with her three handmaidens, gazing up at the comet's long crimson tail.
The sight was breathtaking.
Her belly had grown noticeably large, and she could often feel the child within kicking and moving. Each movement filled her with both joy and sorrow.
Joy because she was carrying a child, ensuring that the bloodline of House Targaryen would continue.
Sorrow because Viserys would never live to see it.
He had died before witnessing the future he had dreamed of.
Suddenly, the baby kicked again, causing a visible bulge beneath her dress.
Irri smiled warmly as she watched.
"Khaleesi, Khal Drogo's son will be born in about two months. The Dosh Khaleen says you should stay active during this time. It will make childbirth easier."
As she spoke, Irri helped Daenerys rise from the steps.
Doreah immediately brightened.
"Then let's go to the market!"
"We can buy a few things."
The mention of the market instantly brought images of Vaes Dothrak's bustling trade districts to Daenerys's mind.
Despite the Dothraki's reputation, merchants were allowed to travel freely to and from the sacred city.
As long as they obeyed its laws—avoiding violence, respecting Mother Mountain and the Womb of the World, and offering traditional gifts such as salt, silver, and seeds to the Dosh Khaleen—they were welcome.
Vaes Dothrak contained two great markets.
The Western Market was dominated by merchants from the Free Cities.
It was a sprawling marketplace of packed earth roads, mud-brick buildings, animal pens, taverns, and countless stalls. Beneath many structures were large storage cellars filled with goods from every corner of the known world.
The Eastern Market was even stranger.
Merchants from Asshai, Yi Ti, and the Shadow Lands traded exotic wares there. One could find manticores, grey elephants, and even the black-and-white striped zebras of Jogos Nhai.
Though trade flourished in Vaes Dothrak, the Dothraki considered buying and selling dishonorable.
Instead, they preferred exchanging gifts.
The return gift might come immediately—or months later.
Ser Jorah Mormont had once explained the custom to her while they wandered through the markets after Viserys's death.
After considering her handmaidens' suggestion, Daenerys gently rubbed her swollen stomach.
A walk might do her good.
"I'm not sure which market to visit," she admitted. "What do you think?"
The prospect of going out delighted both Irri and Jhiqui.
Doreah answered immediately.
"The Western Market."
"If we're buying necessities and simply enjoying ourselves, that's the best choice."
Daenerys nodded.
The Eastern Market fascinated her with its mystery and wonders.
But the Western Market felt familiar.
It reminded her of childhood memories in Braavos, Tyrosh, and Myr.
The air there carried the scent of garlic and pepper, mixed with the sweet perfumes of Lys.
It felt closer to home.
"Very well."
"We'll go to the Western Market."
"Summon Ser Jorah and prepare my escort. We can stay until sunset."
She smiled faintly.
"My Sun and Stars is hunting in the grasslands with his bloodriders. He's searching for a hrakkar—the great white lion of the plains. I hope he returns successful."
"Irri, prepare my palanquin and inform my khas."
Soon afterward, Ser Jorah arrived.
Dressed much like a Dothraki warrior, with horsehair leggings and a painted vest exposing his broad chest and muscular arms, he looked almost indistinguishable from the horse lords themselves.
Since Viserys's death, Jorah had fully sworn his loyalty to Daenerys, and she had gladly accepted his service.
Along with four young riders from her khas, he formed her escort.
As they traveled toward the Western Market, Daenerys sat inside the swaying palanquin, absentmindedly stroking her belly.
The happiness she had displayed earlier slowly faded.
A quiet sadness settled over her.
Noticing her mood, Jorah spoke.
"Khaleesi, two days ago a large caravan entered Vaes Dothrak."
"Over six hundred horses."
"They came from Pentos by way of Norvos and Qohor."
"The caravan master is Byan Fortilis. Illyrio may have sent a letter with them."
His words drew Daenerys back from her thoughts.
After a moment, she shook her head.
"Illyrio's letters can wait."
"There is something else that concerns me."
She looked at him seriously.
"I want you to speak with my husband."
Jorah frowned slightly.
"How may I help, Princess?"
"I want Drogo to fulfill the promise he should have fulfilled long ago."
She lowered her eyes.
"He says the Stallion Who Mounts the World will conquer all lands without crossing the poison water."
"He says that after Rhaego is born, he'll ride east and plunder the lands around the Jade Sea."
"He says the Stallion Who Mounts the World has no need for an iron chair."
Daenerys stared up at the crimson comet.
Perhaps she was thinking of Viserys.
Perhaps she was thinking of the home she had never truly known.
"Rhaego will be born in less than two months."
"I don't have much time."
"Please convince him."
She spoke quietly but firmly.
"The Free Cities possess thousands of ships."
"They're like wooden horses that ride the wind across the sea."
"He must sail west."
"Please help me, Ser Jorah."
Ever since Viserys died, Drogo had shown little interest in conquering Westeros.
Daenerys couldn't accept that.
If her son was destined to rule the world, then the Seven Kingdoms should be his first inheritance.
Viserys had told her countless stories about Westeros.
He had promised again and again that one day they would return home.
Now he was gone.
And those promises had died with him.
Jorah remained silent for a long moment.
Finally, he spoke carefully.
"Princess, be patient."
"Do not repeat your brother's mistakes."
"The Dothraki move according to their own customs and timing."
He hesitated.
Then, seeing the sadness in her eyes, he added softly,
"We will go home one day."
But the word home only deepened her sorrow.
Jorah still had Bear Island.
He had somewhere to return to.
What did she have?
Stories?
Memories?
Names spoken like prayers?
Or a fading image of a red door from her childhood?
She no longer had Viserys.
She couldn't even persuade her husband in the name of their unborn child.
Would Vaes Dothrak become her final home?
Would she spend her life among the Dosh Khaleen?
Was that her destiny?
Neither of them spoke again until they arrived at the Western Market.
The familiar scents filled the air.
Merchants unloaded colorful wool, Myrish lace, spices, and exotic goods.
Watching them, Daenerys felt a familiar longing rise inside her.
If I weren't a dragon, perhaps this could have been enough.
But I am a Targaryen.
I carry the blood of kings and conquerors.
And so does my son.
I cannot forget.
Then a thought struck her.
"Ser Jorah."
"You said Illyrio may have sent a letter?"
"Yes, Princess."
"Then I wish to write back."
Jorah nodded immediately.
"Of course."
A smile finally returned to her face.
For now, she would stop dwelling on sorrow.
The most important thing was bringing her child safely into the world.
With renewed spirits, Daenerys stepped into the bustling marketplace and began to enjoy herself.
Advance Chapters avilable on patreon (Obito_uchiha)