26: Chapter 26 Jealousy

Daenerys Targaryen opened her eyes.

She slowly stood up. Water slid down from her collarbone, from her chest, from her waistline. The sound of water echoed in the empty bathroom. She did not reach for the necklace.

She turned around, looking at Drogon at the doorway. Her eyes were a mixture of anger, disappointment, and a girlish grievance she herself was unwilling to admit. Her voice trembled.

It wasn't a tremble from the cold; it was the kind of trembling she couldn't control.

"You bit her."

Drogon's smile stiffened for a moment.

"You, in front of everyone—riding on top of her—bit her neck. Everyone saw it. Jorah saw it. Barristan saw it. Grey Worm saw it. The Yunkai defenders saw it. Two thousand Dothraki Mercenaries saw it."

She took two steps forward, closing in on him. Water dripped from her body, spreading into small wet patches on the floor. Heat steamed from her skin, carrying the scent of lavender mixed with Dragon Breath. Her feet stepped onto the white marble, leaving wet footprints.

"Drogon—is that your way of fighting?"

She paused, only a step away from him. She was shorter than him, but the way she looked up at him right now made him feel three inches shorter.

"Or—"

Drogon took a step back. His tail knocked over a vase. Broken porcelain splattered everywhere. The water from the vase spilled onto the floor, flowing toward the edge of the bath.

He scratched his head. His tone was righteous but guilty. His voice was half a pitch higher than usual.

"She is an enemy. I defeated her—subdued her—isn't that normal? As for the biting—that's a dragon's instinct! Dragon blood flows in this body of mine. Seeing a powerful, suitable—uh. I mean a powerful opponent. Instinct just makes me do that. I can't control it! I have warnings in my head. The instinct is too fast. Really. It wasn't me—"

Daenerys Targaryen stepped forward again. Her toes touched his.

"Then, if it had been a man standing in front of you today—would you have bitten him?"

"A man?"

Drogon took another step back. His tail thrashed about behind him in a panic, sweeping over a gilded candlestick nearby. Clang. The candlestick rolled into the corner.

"A man would get slapped to death—why would I bite him! That's different! What's there to bite on a man's neck? It's all bone. It hurts my teeth. You'd get a mouthful of hair if you bit down. That won't do. Besides, a man wouldn't ride on my back—no, wait, if a man rode on my back I'd just blast him with Dragon Breath—no, that's not what I meant—it's just different! It's different tactically!"

Daenerys Targaryen's gaze grew colder. Her violet eyes shone in the steam.

"So—you admit it. She is different."

"When I say she's different, I mean her combat capability is different! Two thousand cavalry! You yourself said we need allies! And when I bit her, my mind was only thinking 'this is a high-level unit that must be captured,' absolutely not—"

His tail uncontrollably drew circles on the floor. It drew one. Then another. Then another. Three circles. Interlocked.

Daenerys Targaryen looked at that tail. She fell silent.

Drogon followed her gaze. His tail was drawing perfect circles on the floor. One circle. Two circles. Three circles. Three interlocked circles, like the three-ring emblem on a Westeros noble's crest.

He was lying. His tail was betraying him.

"Damn it. This cursed tail. I should just chop it off. Chop it off tomorrow. No—tonight. Chop it with valyrian steel. Cut it up and make soup."

Daenerys Targaryen turned around, facing away from him. She didn't speak. The lines of her back were blurred in the steam.

Drogon looked at her naked back. Water droplets slid down her spine. Her silver-gold hair clung to her skin, the tips dragging ripples across the water's surface. Her shoulders were tensed tight. It wasn't from the cold. It was because she was enduring something. The edges of her shoulder blades protruded from beneath her skin.

He took a deep breath. He bent down and used his tail to sweep the broken porcelain pieces into the corner, one by one. He swept very quickly. After he finished, his tail stopped by his feet, not daring to move. Then he walked up to her and handed her the ruby necklace. His hand was a bit stiff. His palms were covered in sweat. Not the sweat of battle. The sweat of nervousness.

His voice dropped. It lacked the dominance he had in the arena earlier. It lacked the smugness from the vault. All that remained was the clumsiness of a little boy who had made a mistake.

"Mother."

Daenerys Targaryen did not turn back.

"I know you are unhappy. But you have to believe me—in my eyes, all the women in Westeros, no, all existence in the whole world—added together—are not as important as you."

"You were the first to call me Drogon. You were the first to hold me. You were the first to let me call you Mother. Whatever White Mane is, whatever the strongest female rider of the Dothraki is—compared to you—"

He placed the necklace in her palm. When his fingers touched her palm, his fingertips were cold. A dragon's body temperature is lower than a human's.

"This. I searched for half an hour in the vault to find it. It's specially for you. I didn't pin that hair accessory on right last time—my claws were too big. Now I have hands. I'll pin it again. I guarantee it won't be crooked this time. If it's crooked, I'll learn. I'll learn for a month. For a year."

He paused.

"As for White Mane—I will make her swear allegiance to you. Not to me. To you. If she doesn't agree—"

A flash of decisiveness crossed his golden slit pupils.

"—I will erase that mark. Even though it will be very troublesome. But I keep my word."

Daenerys Targaryen looked down at the ruby in her palm. It was like a miniature sun. Pigeon-blood red. Natural. Uncut. The left side was slightly larger than the right. Like a heart.

She finally sighed. She turned around, reached out, and ruffled his hair. Her fingers slid into his hair. His hair was coarse. Hard. It felt a bit like the texture of dragon scales.

"Idiot. No need to erase it. Just have her swear allegiance to me."

Her fingers slid down from his hair. She pinched his nose and gave it a twist. The force wasn't great. Just enough to make him bare his teeth.

"And—go change your clothes. Take a bath. The smell of blood on you is too strong. Her blood."

Drogon bared his teeth. His tail finally stopped drawing circles behind him. It lifted up and wagged left and right twice. The frequency was fast. The kind of wagging that meant he was happy.

"Alright. But the necklace—"

"I accept it."

Daenerys Targaryen let go of his nose. She turned around and stepped back into the pool, facing away from him. Her voice returned to calm.

"Go out. This is the women's bath."

Drogon turned around and walked to the door. His tail tripped on the threshold. He almost fell. He caught himself on the doorframe and kept walking.

Daenerys Targaryen's voice drifted over from behind. Very soft. Mixed in with the sound of water. Almost impossible to hear.

"The ruby—is very beautiful."

The tip of Drogon's tail curled up. It curled up very high. It almost swept the carvings on the doorframe.

The door closed.