Chapter 4: You didn't even give me a chance to give birth to Murong Fu.
When Daenerys returned to her tent, the hairless man who treated Drogo had not left yet. Several women with chicken-skinned faces and horrible appearances spread their legs as dry as tree roots, and their gray hair swayed with the sacrificial dance.
Their toothless mouths opened wide, singing the ancient ballads of the Dothraki, with sharp voices that pierced the eardrums.
They sang and danced around the naked man on the bed. The flames on the bonfire next to them followed the rhythm of the ballad, sometimes suddenly leaping up to a two-meter-high orange flame, and sometimes almost extinguished in a flash, leaving only the charcoal flickering.
Dany's scalp numbed when she saw it, and she stood at the door with her legs like solidified reinforced concrete pillars, unable to move a step.
This is just the dance of the Dothraki witch doctor, it's no big deal, you are still the mother of dragons, it's just a fluctuation of flames, maybe it's the wind. She told herself in her heart.
"Roar——"
Drogo suddenly let out an inhuman howl on the fur bed, and the sound only had one emotion: extreme pain.
Dany had seen him smile lightly many times in the past when facing injuries that were ten times more serious.
A man as tall and strong as Zhang Fei, with a layer of skin cut off his chest, was only considered a superficial injury!
Even if the wound was inflamed and infected, even if the bacteria penetrated deep into the internal organs, he should be drowsy, with his consciousness exhausted and almost unconscious. Although she had just graduated, she had dozens of internship experiences and knew that inflammation would never stimulate the pain nerves so much.
Thinking back to the time when Drogo was treated by Mirri Maz Duur, every night, Drogo on the bed punched and kicked the air in pain, and tore several sheepskin blankets.
Dany was completely sure that the witch did it on purpose. She wanted to take revenge on the Dothraki in the most cruel way. Undoubtedly, nothing would satisfy her more than letting the khal die in extreme pain and endless suffering.
No, she was not satisfied yet. Daenerys touched her belly. The witch wanted to sacrifice Drogo's son to the devil and make his Khaleesi suffer for the rest of her life.
Drogo, who was drowsy during the day and struggling in pain at night, was soon forced to drink two large bowls of poppy wine by several horsemen and women doctors.
Poppy milk, a milky white liquid extracted from poppy flowers, has miraculous effects of analgesia and anesthesia. It is the most commonly used anesthetic in Westeros and the nine free trade cities.
The horsemen do not know the skills of the Westeros maester to purify poppy milk, but they can soak poppy flowers in wine, with similar effects.
These hairless people are fully worthy of the title of "Mongol doctors". They have not received formal training and only work part-time as doctors because they cannot have children. They also do the work of cooking, herding horses and sheep.
Their medical skills are extremely poor, and they have almost no witchcraft. They can neither treat slightly serious injuries nor remove the black witchcraft of the witches. Dany is sure that they did not realize that Drogo was bewitched at all.
After the hairless people bowed to her and left, Daenerys came to the bed with the help of her maid.
"Jhiqui, find me a dagger, a sharp one." She said to the maid.
When Daenerys married Drogo, she received many gifts, including three maids given by Viserys. Dothraki girls Jhiqui and Irri, and the blond and blue-eyed Lysian Doreah.
Jhiqui and Irri are about the same age as Dany, 14 years old, and both were captured as slaves when their father's Kars was destroyed by Drogo.
Doreah is older, about 20 years old, and the head girl of a famous brothel in Lys.
They are not ordinary maids. Irri is good at riding and is responsible for teaching Daenerys to ride.
Jhiqui is fluent in the Common Language, Dothraki, and High Valyrian, and specializes in teaching Daenerys Dothraki.
Doreah trained the little Dany, who was not good at human affairs, into a master of "riding". Er, commonly known as "old driver".
Jhiqui moved quickly and found a 30cm long dagger from a half-human-high purple wood box with a red copper frame on the side.
The dagger has a yellow-brown bone handle and a brown cowhide scabbard, which is curved like an arakh scimitar.
"This is Drogo's dragon bone dagger, Khaleesi." Jhiqui said.
"Swish!"
The dagger was unsheathed, bringing a snow-white streak under the illumination of the dark red torch.
The blade as thin as a cicada's wing has no gaps. Daenerys's smoky purple eyes flashed with satisfaction. What a good knife!
Seeing her leaning over the tallow candlestick held up by Doreah, as if preparing to cut open the gauze on Drogo's chest, Ser Jorah hurried over and said softly, "Khaleesi, you are disabled, let me do it."
I am disabled? Do you think my master's degree is fake?
Dany glanced at the big bear, shook the blade on the outer flame of the candle, and skillfully cut open the dirty silk cloth stuck to her skin. Underneath was a layer of blue wet mud and a hard lump of fig leaves. Layer after layer, accumulated over seven or eight days, the hairless man repeatedly applied more than ten layers of "Dothraki Holy Medicine" on it - mud paste.
Saying that they are Mongolian doctors is an insult to Mongolian doctors.
Jorah turned his head and looked at Dany with surprise and confusion. The dressing was cut and picked lightly and flexibly. It was hard to imagine that it was done by a girl who was not good at swords and was pregnant.
The top layer of dressing was still moist, but the bottom layer was as dry as the mud wall of the sheepmen. Under Dany's rhythmic knocking, it broke into several pieces as easily as the mud wall.
Peeling off the pieces stuck to the flesh and blood, peeling off the purple-black fig leaves, gradually, a smell of rottenness mixed with sweetness filled the spacious yurt space, and the smell was so strong that several people could not breathe.
Doreah covered her mouth with one hand, her face swollen, and the thick tallow candle in the other hand kept shaking. Jorah quickly reached out to take the candle. Doreah immediately stepped back, trotted to open the leather curtain, and went outside to vomit.
The wooden tray held by Irri was full of fallen mud and leaves, stained with pus, blood and tiny rotten meat.
At this time, Drogo's injuries were fully displayed in front of Dany. The left chest was black, and the rotten wound was shining in the candlelight.
As Drogo breathed rapidly and with difficulty, his chest rose and fell, and gurgling purple-black pus and blood flowed out in three forked streams, staining the white lamb wool blanket under him. The increasingly strong sweet smell made the tough man Jorah start to feel sick.
"Khaleesi, Khaleesi" Ser Jorah looked at Dany, who was standing there with a pale face, and then looked at Irri and Jhiqui, who covered their noses and turned their heads. He opened and closed his mouth and shouted several times but could not utter a complete sentence.
When Dany came to her senses and asked Irri and Jhiqui to prepare hot water, strong liquor and other things, Jorah immediately grabbed her arm and said anxiously: "Khaleesi, did you see? Your husband is dying."
I know that I can guess that her chest must be full of dirty pus and blood, and Drogo's heart is soaked in the purple-black poisonous blood. Even if the black witchcraft is exorcised, this kind of injury in the modern medical world will definitely kill him, Daenerys thought silently.
It can even be said that he is already dead, and the witch wants him to suffer more pain, so she uses strange black witchcraft to keep him alive.
"What do you want to say, Ser?"
"Child, let's go before he takes his last breath!" Jorah advised.
"Go? Where to?" Dany stared at Drogo's chest and asked woodenly.
"To Asshai in the Shadow Lands. It is located in the far south, at the end of the known world, and is said to be a prosperous port. There, we should be able to take a ship back to Pentos."
Ser Jorah hesitated for a moment and asked, "Are your Khas people trustworthy? I'm afraid it's just the two of us..."
"Hehe." Daenerys' pale smile showed a bitter smile, and shook her head and said, "Sir, you think too much, we can't get away. It's hard to protect our safety with fewer people. Bringing the Khas people, a large group of people is too conspicuous. Do you think 40,000 roaring warriors are blind?"
Go to Asshai?
Ten thousand miles away, adult men can't bear the pain of a long journey. Dany is a 14-year-old pregnant girl. It's better to stab herself directly.
Ser Jorah looked at Dany's big belly and frowned, "Princess, you should try to escape even for the sake of your child.
The Dothraki people submit to the might of Khal Drogo, but that's all. They will never follow a hungry baby. This is completely different from us in Westeros.
When Drogo dies, Jako, Bono and a dozen other khors will immediately start fighting for the position of Khal. Drogo's Khal will fall apart and kill each other until the final winner emerges." "
Then what?" Dany asked with a wooden face.
Ser Jorah couldn't bear it, hesitated for a moment, and whispered, "The new Khal will not leave his opponent alive. Your child will be taken away as soon as it is born and fed to the dogs. Just like what Drogo did to Ogo and his son."
This Dany was stronger than Jorah imagined. Except for her paler face, she did not fall into hysterical despair.
"If... I have about a week or seven days left to give birth, and if Drogo dies before then and my child is not born, will they let me go?" Dany said hesitantly.
"I am Khaleesi. According to the Dothraki tradition, no one can harm a widowed Khaleesi. At most..."
Dany gritted her teeth and said the last sentence with difficulty: "At most, they will send me back to Visdorascor and make me one of the dosh khaleen."
Ser Jorah was shocked and said in disbelief: "Do you want to die in Horselord City forever?"
Then, he shook his head painfully, "It's useless. Don't you realize that the dosh khaleen in Horselord City have no children? Over the years, hasn't there been a Khaleesi who lost her khal while pregnant like you?"
"It's just a baby, and a baby who lost her tribe." Dany's purple eyes flashed with fear and she said in disbelief.
Ser Jorah smiled bitterly and asked, "Do you remember your brother Rhaegar?"
14 years ago, on the eve of Daenerys' birth, her eldest brother, Crown Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, died on the banks of the Trident while fighting against the usurper.
Her father, the Mad King Aerys, was killed under the Iron Throne by a white knight who was supposed to defend him to the death. On the same day, Prince Rhaegar's child, Daenerys's nephew and niece, the three-year-old Princess Rhaenys, was split in two.
Prince Aegon, who was still a baby, was plucked from his mother's head and thrown against the stone wall like a melon, smashed into a bloody ball amid the Crown Princess's grief-stricken cries. The entire Targaryen dynasty only had Dany and Viserys left. Now only Dany is left.
Even worse than Murong Fu, who still has at least four major ministers and cousins.
"Even in Westeros, which values chivalry, the barbaric Dothraki are like this." After a pause, Jorah said, "There is one more thing. At the foot of the Mother of God, Dosh Khaleen predicted that your child would become a steed riding the world. His future achievements would be enough to strike fear into the hearts of any enemy. No one would let you go and risk letting him grow up and come back for revenge."
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(End of this chapter)