Fic: All sorrows are less with bread (Dany/Doreah, Game of Thrones)
FANDOM: Game of Thrones
SUMMARY: Dany worries that Doreah is getting too thin.
WORD COUNT: ~2200
DISCLAIMER: Don't own 'em.
AUTHORS' NOTES: This follows my other fic 'The only way to bring me back' and so my dragons are not the dragons of the books, okay? Also, this was written because huffstodt wanted "Dany cooks for Doreah by candle liiiiiight. Dragons floating about, showing off their personalities. One nuzzles Doreah when she walks in. I don't even know."
She notices one evening, when they are lying together by the fire, that she can feel Doreah’s ribs through her skin more easily than before. Careful not to disturb the slumbering girl, Dany probes the skin of her abdomen, noting that her hip bones are also more pronounced. And now that she’s taking time to look, her face is more pinched and her arms and legs thinner than they’d been. She places a hand against her forehead to see if she is sickening for something. Her heart thuds painfully at the thought. Illness is quick to make the strong weak out in the vastness of the desert. Doreah’s skin is cool to the touch and she still looks healthy enough. Her gentle checks have disturbed Storm, who lifts her head and huffs through her nostrils, releasing thin tendrils of smoke. She stands and turns around to lay her head on Doreah’s shoulder. Dany smiles and runs a finger over the dragon’s wing, draped as it is across Doreah’s belly.
The following day, Dany calls Ser Jorah to her.
“The food that we have, Ser, how is it distributed?”
“Fairly, Khaleesi,” Jorah tells her. “All of your people are fed.”
“And my handmaidens. They are catered for accordingly, I presume?”
“Of course, Khaleesi,” he pauses, his brow creasing. “You are speaking of Doreah.”
If he knows what passes between herself and Doreah in the privacy of her tent, he has never mentioned it. She is free with her touches and holds hands with Irri and links arms with Jhiqui as often as she does with Doreah. But it would appear that he is more aware of her affection for the Lysene girl than she knew. Dany knows that Jorah has feelings of his own for her, but she has been abundantly clear that they are unwanted and unreciprocated. She feels a twinge of sympathy for him.
“Yes, she occasionally eats with me in the evenings, but I don’t see what she has during the day. She works hard, I want to make sure that she, and all of my workers, are kept strong.”
“She is given the same as all of the other workers...but...”
“But? There should be no but,” Dany presses.
Jorah’s face softens. “The girl has a kind heart, my queen. She gives most of her food to the orphaned children of the Khalasar. She cannot bear to see them go without.”
A soft smile crosses Dany’s features. The explanation makes perfect sense.
“Thank you, Ser Jorah that is all. Please sent Irri to me. I need her to fetch me some provisions for this evening.”
“As you wish, my queen.”
He bows deeply and then is gone. Storm hops around her feet while Drogon comes to perch on her shoulder. Rhaegal has taken to hiding and jumping out on people as they walk by. She looks at them both in turn and smiles.
“She will eat tonight.”
It is later than usual when Doreah comes to her that evening. Dany turns to her with a smile which is returned, if a little wearily. Doreah’s eyebrows come together in curiosity when she notices that Dany is crouched by a cooking pot, stirring.
“What...are you doing?”
“I’m making dinner for you.”
Doreah laughs. “What will people say if they hear that their Khaleesi is cooking for a former slave?”
“People will say what they like,” Dany huffs. “You are too thin and I want you to eat well.” She punctuates the statement with a firm nod and turns back to her task. After a moment she turns back to find Doreah shaking her head . “What?”
“You make me smile,” Doreah tells her, simply. “And...I’m a little surprised that you know how to cook.”
Dany leaves the pot to simmer while she crosses the short distance to where Doreah is standing, fitting her palms around the taller girl's hips and tugging her forward until their bodies meet. She looks up into her eyes.
“I used to live in a house with a red door.” She kisses Doreah’s shoulder, letting her lips drag over the bronzed skin there. “I passed many days in the kitchens, I watched and I learned.” Her hand slides around to Doreah’s back while Doreah’s own hand slips into her hair. “I know how to cook.” She tilts her head up to meet Doreah’s lips in a gentle kiss. “And I want to cook for you.”
The moment is broken when Rhaegal swoops down from a perch somewhere in the folds of the tent and grabs at Doreah’s hair with his claws. It isn’t an attack, merely a playful ambush and it sets both girls laughing. Storm comes out of nowhere to butt heads with her brother, flapping her wings out wide to protect Doreah from further annoyance.
“Both of you, come here,” Doreah commands, and the dragons fly to her immediately. Storm plants herself on her chest, face nuzzled into her neck while Rhaegal flits from shoulder to shoulder. Drogon is restless on Dany’s shoulder until Dany nods her consent and he flies to join in with the outpouring of affection. The dragons are growing quickly and the weight of all three of them makes Doreah’s knees buckle. Dany laughs and gives her a little push so that she falls onto the stack of cushions piled by the fire. The dragons take great delight in their new prone target, nipping and nuzzling at the length of Doreah’s body. She giggles and pushes and pulls at them, playing their game. Dany watches with a soft smile. The beasts treat Doreah as if she is an older sibling; someone to be respected but who can be teased and tested a little more than their mother.
She leaves them to their play and returns to her cooking. She had Aggo go and hunt for something other than horse meat. Their surroundings are not rich in game, but he managed to find two rabbits and a small antelope. She had Irri clean them and bring them to her and she had set about preparing something filling and delicious. The smell coming from the pot indicates that she has succeeded.
The dragons are asleep at their feet as they finish their meal. Dany has spent her time watching Doreah’s reactions and she has not been disappointed.
“I am fit to burst!”
Doreah is using bread to wipe the remnants of gravy from her plate. She bites into the morsel, juice running down her chin. Dany leans in to capture it with her tongue, her hand settling on Doreah’s pleasantly firm belly. She pats it gently.
“Good, I mean to keep you well fed.”
Doreah tilts her head down to rub her nose against Dany’s. “Am I to grow accustomed to this, then? Returning after a day’s work to find my woman cooking fo-“
She bites her lip, her eyes wide and Dany can’t help but laugh at the panic in them. She pushes their plates away and throws a leg over both of Doreah’s, kneeling so that she is looking down at her.
“How many times must I tell you? In here you speak freely, my love,” she whispers. “I am your woman as much as you are mine. As for me cooking every night...we’ll see. But you will eat with me each evening. As much as I love your kind heart, I cannot have you fading away because you insist on feeding every orphaned child you come across.”
Doreah turns her face away and Dany can see the tinge of pink on her cheeks. She cups her jaw and brings her back around, rubbing her thumb over her lips. Doreah opens her mouth and closes her teeth around the digit, not hard enough to cause pain, but with enough intent to make Dany’s violet eyes darken. Hands cup her backside, pulling her more firmly against Doreah and she reacts instinctively by rolling her hips into the contact. A soft moan escapes Dany’s lips as Doreah surges up to meet her in a bruising kiss.
With practised ease, Doreah turns them over and presses Dany back against the cushions. Her hands make quick work of Dany’s scaled jerkin, casting it aside and displaying the Khaleesi to her greedy eyes. Dany arches up, anxious to be touched, but Doreah holds back with a smile.
“Then let me thank my woman for her efforts,” she husks. Dany watches Doreah lean over to pick up one of the many candles scattered around the tent, her mouth quirking into a smile. She pushes up onto her elbows, watching as Doreah tilts the candle, rotating her wrist, allowing the flame to melt the wax all around the tip. Her eyes meet Dany’s from beneath heavy lids; Dany knows what’s coming.
Doreah holds the candle over Dany’s chest and lets the wax drip onto her pale skin. Dany holds her gaze and does not flinch when the hot liquid makes contact. Doreah’s smile grows with every droplet that splashes onto Dany’s chest, making sure to coat her erect nipple in the substance.
“You have fire in your veins, Daenerys,” she murmurs, watching as the wax takes longer than it should to harden again. Doreah splays her hand across Dany’s belly and pours wax over it, hissing as it hits her own skin. Dany’s muscles tense, not from the heat, but from Doreah’s touch.
“And you love to play with fire,” Dany manages to keep the hitch out of her voice.
“I do indeed,” Doreah agrees, watching the wax dry, fixing her hand to Dany’s abdomen. Connecting them; skin to skin.
“You make my blood burn hotter,” Dany says, her hands moving to Doreah’s hips, pressing up against her.
Doreah smiles down at her. “You set my heart aflame.”
Dany cannot wait any longer and her hands grab at Doreah’s shoulders, pulling her down. The wax seal connecting them breaks, but their torsos meet and Dany claws at the laces holding Doreah’s top in place. They give way after a moment of impatient tugging, opening up an expanse of skin that Dany devours with her hands and her lips. Doreah’s hand moves downwards and Dany feels her lower body turn to liquid gold as fingers slide confidently against her. She gasps as Doreah fills her up, first with two fingers and then with three.
Doreah is skilled in the art of pleasure and rarely lets Dany experience the same thing twice. But tonight, Dany just wants this. This closeness. This heat. This intimacy. The thoughts she’d entertained about losing Doreah to some phantom sickness still sit heavily in her stomach and for now she needs to know that she is alive and vibrant and strong. So when the other girl starts to move away, Dany holds onto her.
“No, I want to feel you. On top of me, your weight, your body against mine. I need it.”
Doreah nods in understanding. She knows that, sometimes, Dany just needs to feel that something in her life is steady and sure; something that won’t be snatched away from her in a heartbeat. She places a firm kiss on Dany’s lips and insinuates her arm under her neck. Doreah wriggles until Dany can feel slick heat press against her, meeting her own need. Dany whimpers, but makes sure to keep her eyes locked on Doreah’s as they start to move together. Dany tries to breathe, to make it last. But Doreah’s eyes are reflecting in the candlelight . Sweat is glistening on her brow. Her lower lip is caught in her teeth. It’s too much and Dany can’t hold on. She thrusts her hips in an erratic rhythm, desperate for release. The arm that is not supporting Dany’s neck snakes between their bodies and adds much needed precision for both of them.
They finish as one, sharing the same breath. As joined as they had been by the wax. Doreah starts to roll off Dany but Dany stops her.
“Just...just a little longer.” And Doreah acquiesces.
The dragons have woken as they always do when they sense something stirring their mother’s emotions. Storm ambles over and rubs her head against where their shoulders touch. Drogon flies around their heads for a moment, puffing out little balls of fire, before settling down by Dany’s other shoulder. They wait.
“Can you see him?” Doreah murmurs against Dany’s cheek.
“No. But he’s there,” Dany says, enjoying the tang of salt on her lips from Doreah’s skin.
From nowhere, Rhaegal swoops down with a terrible screech and lands square on Doreah’s back, pushing her further into Dany and stealing the breath from her lungs.
“You’re getting too big for that,” Dany scolds, trying to smother a yawn. Rhaegal ignores her and turns a few times before lying down on Doreah’s back.
“Leave him. I like him there.”
“I like you there,” Dany teases and Doreah kisses her chin with a smile.
“Thank you. For the cooking for me. You’re very good…perhaps you’ll teach me your secrets one day.”
Dany pretends to consider the request. “I suppose it’s only fair. You’ve taught me so much about…other things.”
“We’ve learned together, Dany. We’re still learning.”
Doreah yawns and finally shifts off her, disturbing Rhaegal’s sleep and earning an indignant huff. Dany turns so that they are curled around one another. She listens as Doreah’s breathing stretches to match the rhythm of the dragons’ and smiles. Sometimes she lets herself think about the future and what it holds. She sees herself ruling over lands she has never even seen; sitting on the Iron Throne with her dragons at her feet. Doreah is always there, beside her.
Daenerys Targaryen may well be the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, but this girl rules her heart; of that she has no doubt.