keep keep on running, there's no place like home

[ooc: Warning, huge post ahead! You don't have to mirror, I just haven't posted Dany since before the invasion, so i have some things to catch up on in this post <3]

It was the hour of celebration, of victory. The battle was won; the Qian had conquered a land to call their own and sent the former residents bolting. So why did she feel this emptiness?

The snowwhite belle had not been watching, she could not possibly be a spectator to something so cruel, but within earshot she had stayed at a safe distance. The clangor of battle spread fear within her heart, reminding her terribly of that fatal day. The day where the usurpers had run upon her family and shattered her world. The smell of blood was carried upon the cold winter air to where she stood, causing chills to run down her spine, images of her family slain flashing before her inner eye. Closing her eyes did nothing but make them stronger, so she stood in the failing light and listened, waited for ceasefire.

The babe in her womb moved restlessly, feeling the mother’s unsettled state of mind. Daenerys turned her nape to look at her swelling belly with softness in her thistle gaze. What was growing in there was a result of a heated moment, a rash decision to indulge in her most primitive desire, but whoever the bundle in her womb turned out to be, she would love it all the same. She was not showing much at this point, her girth resembling little more than a grass-belly, but it had been enough to excuse her from the fighting. If she had been fit, would she have fought? Though she had not spoken the words, she knew the answer would be no. There was no way she could put others through what she had experienced in her homeland. Too vividly she remembered the fright in her heart, the terror as the invading force destroyed her home and extinguished her family. She could not, not even for a place to call home.

Lobes flicked back and forth as the sound of battle ceased, and the dame climbed the rocky hill she had sheltered behind. For a moment she stood there, a statuesque picture of gold and silver, silky tresses whipped around her nape as the sharp wind showed its teeth. In the dark it was hard to see much, but she instantly recognized the figures of Mirage and Vikram. Victorious. So why was she not down there, celebrating? It was expected of her, and her legs were ready to move her instinctively, the fake smile already plastered upon her youthful face. But then she decided different.

Instead the dappled fae turned on her hocks and headed in the opposite direction. Ahriman followed behind her with a look of confusion on his face, but he did not ask, and she was glad. He was old enough to choose for himself what he wanted to do, but in the end he stayed with his dam; he would have to look after her, he told himself. Slender golden pillars dug away at the terrain, determination in her stride as Daenerys headed back for the Deep Forest, the place that had been her shelter for the past many months. Snow started to fall softly, clinging to her skin as the wind settled. The special silence that comes with such snowfall was only broken by the sound of their hooves as they ventured forth.

They did not slow their gait until they reached the shelter of the canopy of treetops, allowing themselves to become engulfed by the dimness that resided there. The snow made small heaps on the ground here and there where a glimpse of overcast nightsky could be seen between the branches, seemingly glowing softly in the dark. The snow on her coat melted slowly, tresses wet and sticking to her skin as she paused and sighed softly. Her mind was boggling over with all sorts of different emotions that she could not possibly bear to decipher right now, so she stood numb and watched as her son found a spot to lay down and rest. With softness in her gaze she watched him, feeling the tightness in her chest loosen a little by the sight of his lithe frame on a moss bed. Soon, he was sound asleep and she felt herself doze off as well.

Yet suddenly she tensed. Raising her tiara, she flared her nares as she caught the smell of blood and her internal alarm went off. About to waken her son and take flight, she smelt something familiar in between the stench of burnt flesh and hair, and she hesitated before deciding to investigate if her suspicion was true.

When he came into view, she felt a knot in her stomach and bit her lip softly. Unsure if she should approach, she felt drawn to the stallion as he stood there. He looked vulnerable, something her motherly instincts could not resist, so she slipped closer. “Cineviam…” she chimed out softly, hoping not to startle him. His injuries were quite severe, and she felt a sudden pang of guilt. It was her alleged family and loved ones that had done this to him, all so that they could fulfill a selfish desire for property. A desire that she had borne as well, but faced with the consequences, she felt cold.

Daenerys approached the much larger stallion from the side, halting in her tracks a few feet from him. What was she going to do? What could she really say that would make any difference? Chance was all he wanted now was rest and solitude, and she came barging in on him in an unguarded moment. Much against her will, she felt tears welling up in her eyes, and when she tried to blink them away, they betrayed her and drew fine lines of glistening silver down her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…” she managed, her voice cracking and turning into a quiet sob. As she stood there in the darkness, drenched and teary-eyed, she looked every bit the vulnerable child that she felt inside.