The Republic of Heaven by lastwingedthing - Game of Thrones, Daenerys/Doreah. Doreah has dreamed of this for all the days of her life. Doreah is following the dragon.
The khaleesi leads the way. She is dressed in the rough clothes of a Dothraki woman again, walking surefooted, leading her white mare. Two little children ride her, Lhazareen survivors taken as slaves, wide-eyed and solemn as the world unrolls around them. Last night Doreah and Irri sang and fed them fingerfuls of honey from a secret hive Irri found in the rocks, and let them sleep warm in a spare corner of the khaleesi’s tent. Three nights ago they were orphan slaves; a week ago they played fearless as lambs in their mother’s house. The goddesses give, and the goddesses take away.
All through the march the dragons twine around the khaleesi’s head and shoulders like little cats.
Doreah walks behind the khaleesi, one steady foot in front of the other through the grass. She has always been beautiful, unearthly. She has never been so beautiful as now. All through those first dazed days of walking, Doreah thinks over and over, I will follow you. I will follow you anywhere, through fire, through any storm.