Daela awakens slowly to the unfamiliar chamber, the fire has gone dim, casting faint shadows across the stone walls. For a moment, she does not recognize where she was, then it hits her, Drakar had carried her here after the feast, and they both had…
She gasps softly at the sharp squeeze around her midsection, the discomfort which had woken her.
Drakar.
Daela thinks that she may get snapped in half if he keeps gripping too tightly, Daela winces again, but the dragon appears to be very much asleep.
The uneven rise and fall of his chest and low, the breathy groan that hisses from his mouth suddenly make her wonder if he may be having another nightmare.
The dragon is muttering words, but Daela only recognizes the name.
Danaerys.
She has heard Drakar mention this name before, in the mountains. And just like that night, Drakar looks tortured, his expression twisted into broken fragments of torment that make her heart squeeze.
