The Fall of Dragons

 Bonus disclaimer! 

This shit is about to get dark fast.(It's GoT stuff here, whadda ya expect?)

If you like that, have at it. If not, flee for your sanity.

You've been warned.

The Dragon Queen laid her head on her pillow, praying for sleep. Her mind raced, sprinting in blind panic away from her chambers. Away from Westeross. Away from the throne.

Her birthright was now her prison. From the streets far below, the howling of the Dothraki reached her bed, piercing her heart and creeping like ice over her skin. Their din nearly eclipsed the screams of their captives. In earlier days, she had come to revel in the terror of her captives. Now she felt as if she was among them, naked and bound, with a blade to her throat.

She tucked her robe tightly around her. She slept in heavy clothing now, a ploy to make her feel more secure, she knew, and something she had never needed before. Beneath the thick, soft fabric of her robes, beneath the smooth, heavy samite coverings of her bed, she felt cold and vulnerable. She closed her eyes and wished Missandei was there to warm her. Or Dario. Or Jon. Now she had no one.

Her Blood Riders no longer respected her. She had once been their queen, the wife of the Great Khal. She had once been the Mother of Dragons. Now she was a foreign girl with a title she was no longer worthy to claim. How long would it be before she heard their footsteps in the night? Would they drag her to the square and execute her? Would she even see it coming?

As she lost herself in the endless multitude of dreaded ends, her heart sprang into her throat. She sat up, clenching her robes as she heard slow, heavy steps approaching her door. She suppressed a scream as the door swung open to reveal her chief bodyguard, Assilo. Her terror subsided.

 "Why didn't you knock?!" she shouted, her anger masking her helplessness.

 He stood silently for a moment, his massive form filling the doorway. Slowly and quietly, he closed the door behind him.

 "Well?!" she demanded.

Asillo slowly approached her bed. Fear gripped Daenerys again. She pulled her robes tight around her and drew back, failing to suppress her trembling. He leaned down close to her face, his expression wooden and unreadable.

 "The men are restless, my queen." he whispered in her ear. "They say they will no longer follow a weak foreign girl who has no stomach for war. They speak of a new leader."

 " Who?! Who is this traitor?! I will have them executed NOW! " the queen raged, ready to fiercely wield her waning power.

He sat softly down on the edge of her bed, a more gentle expression on his face. Daenerys shifted away, fear swelling beneath her regal facade.

 "There is nothing to be done now about this now, my queen." He placed his huge, callused hand on her thigh.