It was freezing although the earth was hot. Fires raged all around her, threatening to destroy everything she knew, but still the cold seeped into her skin and coursed through her veins. Daenerys Targaryen had tried to build an empire, and she was watching its foundation turn to ash.

She looked to the sky from where she knelt and saw her dragons circling the burning city that had been Meereen. They had turned on her. She was their mother and yet they laid siege to her home. Slowly, they began to fly toward the east, making their way to a distant mountain of sand. When they flew lower, Dany saw their purpose. A woman in red stood atop the mountain. She could not make out her face, but her stance suggested strength and danger. Dany watched as her dragons landed beside the figure and her vision blurred with tears.

A scream drew her attention in another direction. She saw everything happening in slow motion. A pillar above Missandei buckled and fell, trapping her beneath it. Struggling to her feet, Dany sprinted toward the girl. Falling to her knees beside Missandei, Dany placed a hand on her chest. It lay motionless without the rise and fall of breath to shift it.

Dany swung her head around wildly, searching for movement, for life. But they all lay dead: Ser Barristan, Grey Worm, Daario, Missandei. None moved. Where was Jorah? She needed to find Jorah. She ran, faster and faster, unable to stop the tears from flowing. She felt like a little girl again, trapped in the grip of her brother, helpless and worthless.

She ran for what felt like hours but still could not see the man for whom she searched until a faint sound caught her attention. Sprinting toward it, Dany stopped in her tracks. The groan she had heard came from Jorah, on his knees with a sword to his throat. Her eyes moved up the sword to the face of the man who wielded it. He smiled.

"The Lord of Light bids you surrender. Unless you want to lose another friend."

Dany looked back at Jorah.

"Don't Khaleesi." He begged, "Leave me."

"Surrender?" She answered, "I have nothing left with which to fight. You have won."

Four men stepped out from behind scorched structures and marched toward her. They bound her hands and Jorah's and led them from the burning city.

Dany didn't know how long they marched. It seemed like a year but the sun barely moved. Jorah was bleeding from a wound on his arm and his pace slowed every minute.

"Stop!" she demanded, "Ser Jorah needs to rest."

A sudden fist shocked her into silence, colliding with her cheek and snapping her head back, but she refused to fall to the ground. Jorah lept at the man who hit her with all the strength he had left, but the man easily dodged his assault.

He smiled down at Dany. "You don't give the orders anymore, little Targaryen whore. Best keep your pretty mouth shut."

She did not speak again. Her only concern was for Jorah.

When it seemed like he could go no farther, the men called a halt. "We're a day out from the shore," one said, "We camp here for the night and carry on at first light."

Jorah collapsed and Dany knelt beside him, one bound hand on his back. "You're going to be okay" she whispered, "You have to be"

He smiled, "Then I will."

The night was colder than usual and Dany longed for a fire. Shivers wracked her body and no amount of exhaustion would allow her to sleep. Jorah whispered for her. "Khaleesi, you must get some rest. They will not stop after this. Please."

"Jorah, I cannot. The cold goes right through me."

"Please," Jorah called out again, this time to their captors, "She needs a fire or a blanket, something to keep her warm."

One of the men got up and the others followed him over to where Dany and Jorah lay.

"Cold, eh?" the first man asked. "What should we do about that then?"

"Maybe her clothes are wet," suggested the second man.

"Ay," said the third, "that tends to be a problem in the desert."

The first man laughed. "Well let's get them off then, shall we?"

He grabbed Dany by her hair and pulled her off the ground, ripping at her shirt as he did so. The other two men restrained Jorah as, piece by piece, the first man pulled her clothing off. When he was done, he threw her, naked and shivering to the ground.

"Sleep tight, your highness," he called and left her exposed and broken.