The sun hadn't fully risen when Jason shook Daenerys awake, his hand gentle on her shoulder.
"Come on, khaleesi," he said, his voice still rough with sleep. "You wanted training. Time to start."
Daenerys groaned, burying her face in the furs. Every muscle in her body ached in new and interesting ways, and the soreness between her legs was a constant, throbbing reminder of the previous night. Of Jason moving inside her, of the sounds he'd made, of how he'd felt—
"I changed my mind," she mumbled. "Training is a terrible idea. Let's just stay here. I have better ideas for how to spend the morning."
Her hand slid down his stomach deliberately, but Jason caught it with a laugh.
"Nope." He kissed her palm before releasing it. "You asked for this. Up. Now. We've got maybe an hour before the khalasar starts moving, and I'm not letting you distract me with sex."
"I'm very good at distracting you with sex," Daenerys pointed out, finally opening her eyes to look at him. "Last night you said I was—what was it? 'Devastating' when I—"
"I remember what I said." Jason's voice had gone rough, and she could see the effect her words were having on him. "And you are. But that's exactly why we need to train now, before I lose all willpower."
He was already dressed in loose training clothes—light linen pants that hung low on his hips and a sleeveless tunic that showed off arms that had no business being that distracting. His hair was damp, suggesting he'd already been to the water basin, and he looked annoyingly alert for someone who'd been up half the night doing extremely athletic things.
"You're cruel," she accused, letting her eyes trace the lines of muscle visible through the thin fabric. "Absolutely cruel. You know what you look like right now?"
"Dressed?"
"Like I want to tear those clothes off with my teeth."
Jason's breath caught, his eyes darkening. "You can't say things like that right before training."
"Why not?" Daenerys sat up, letting the furs fall away, very aware that she was completely naked beneath them. She watched his eyes track down her body with satisfaction. "Does it distract you, husband?"
"You know it does." His voice was strained. "You're doing it on purpose."
"Maybe." She stretched deliberately, arching her back, and heard his sharp intake of breath. "Or maybe I'm just sore and need to work out the kinks."
"The kinks you have are not the kind that stretching fixes," Jason muttered, but she could see him struggling not to stare. "Now get dressed before I forget I'm supposed to be teaching you self-defense and we spend the entire morning doing something much more enjoyable but considerably less useful."
"Would that be so terrible?"
"Yes, because Viserys is a real threat and you need to know how to defend yourself." Jason's expression went serious. "I'm not always going to be there, Dany. I need to know you can protect yourself if something happens."
That sobered her. He was right, of course. As much as she enjoyed teasing him—and gods, she loved how responsive he was to her now—the training was important.
"Alright," she said, reaching for the clothes Irri had prepared. "But tonight—"
"Tonight I'm going to make you forget your own name," Jason promised, his voice low and dark with promise. "But only if you work hard during training."
"Is that a threat or a promise?"
"Both. Now hurry up—we're wasting daylight."
Daenerys dressed quickly in the training clothes—soft leather pants and a wrapped top that left her arms free to move. When she emerged from the tent, she found Jason had cleared a space away from the main camp, far enough for privacy but close enough that the bloodriders could keep watch.
"First lesson," Jason said, moving to the center of the cleared space. "How to fall without breaking something important."
"That's your idea of basic training?"
"That's everyone's idea of basic training. You can't learn to fight if you're terrified of hitting the ground." He demonstrated the technique—tucking, rolling, coming up smoothly. "Your turn."
For the next thirty minutes, Daenerys hit the ground repeatedly until her body started to remember the movements automatically. It was exhausting and painful and humbling, but Jason's praise when she got it right made it worthwhile.
"Good," he said finally, offering her a hand up. His grip was strong, pulling her to her feet easily. "You're a natural at this. Now let's talk about basic self-defense."
He moved behind her suddenly, his body pressed against her back, one arm wrapping loosely around her throat in a simulated choke hold.
Daenerys's breath caught—not from fear, but from the sudden sensory memory of last night when he'd held her from behind, pressed against her exactly like this but for very different reasons. The weight of him, the heat, the way he'd moved—
"Focus," Jason said, and she could hear the knowing amusement in his voice. His breath was hot against her ear. "I can feel your heart racing, khaleesi, and I know that's not fear. But you need to pay attention."
"It's hard to pay attention when you're pressed against me like this," Daenerys said breathlessly. "All I can think about is last night. When you held me like this but your hand was—"
"Dany." His voice was strained now. "You're making this very difficult."
"Good. Fair's fair." She shifted deliberately, pressing back against him, and felt his sharp intake of breath. "You make me feel this way all the time. During meals, during the ride, whenever you look at me with those eyes. It's only fair you suffer too."
"If you keep doing that," Jason said through gritted teeth, "this training session is going to end very differently than planned."
"Promises, promises."
"I'm serious." But his arm tightened around her slightly, and she could feel his body responding despite his words. "You need to learn this, Dany. It's important."
She relented, forcing herself to focus. "Alright. Show me what to do."
Jason guided her through the technique—chin tucked to protect her throat, hand grabbing his arm for leverage, hips dropping and twisting to break the hold. When she did it correctly, she found herself facing him, close enough that she could see his pupils were dilated, his breathing slightly uneven.
"See?" he said, his voice rough. "You use the attacker's strength against them. The tighter they hold, the more leverage you have."
"And if the attacker is you?" Daenerys asked, not stepping back. "What then?"
"Then you're in trouble, because I know all your weaknesses." His hand came up to cup her face. "I know every place that makes you gasp. Every touch that makes you melt. Every word that makes you wet—"
"Jason," she breathed, swaying toward him.
"But we're not doing that right now," he finished, stepping back firmly. "We're training. So reset, and let's go again."
They practiced repeatedly, and Daenerys tried very hard to focus on the techniques rather than how good it felt every time Jason grabbed her, every time his body pressed against hers. But it was difficult when every touch reminded her of the night before, of all the nights before.
"Someone grabs your wrist," Jason demonstrated, his fingers wrapping around her wrist firmly. "What do you do?"
"Try very hard not to think about these hands on other parts of my body?" Daenerys suggested innocently.
Jason's jaw clenched. "You're being deliberately difficult."
"I'm being honest. Your hands are very distracting, husband. Especially when I know exactly what they can do. How they feel on my—"
"Enough." He released her wrist abruptly. "Twenty push-ups. Now."
Daenerys blinked. "What?"
"You heard me. Every time you try to distract me with sexual comments during training, you do push-ups. Maybe that'll teach you to focus."
"That's hardly fair," she protested, even as she dropped to the ground. "You distract me all the time."
"I'm not the one making inappropriate comments during self-defense training."
"No, you're just standing there looking like every fantasy I've ever had, which is worse." She started the push-ups, her arms already trembling from the earlier training. "This is cruel."
"This is effective." Jason crouched beside her, watching her form. "Elbows in more. Back straight. There you go."
By the time she finished twenty, Daenerys's arms were shaking and she was breathing hard. But she also noticed that Jason was watching her with heated eyes, his gaze tracking the line of her body as she moved.
"See something you like, khal?" she panted, deliberately arching her back as she came up from the last push-up.
"I see my wife deliberately trying to break my concentration," Jason said, but his voice had gone rough again. "And succeeding admirably. But we're not done yet. Up. We're moving on to strikes."
He spent the next thirty minutes teaching her where to hit for maximum effect—eyes, throat, groin, knees. Demonstrating on himself, then letting her practice the motions in slow motion.
"You're not trying to win a fair fight," he explained. "You're trying to create an opening to escape. So you hit the most vulnerable places as hard as you can."
"Like here?" Daenerys's hand hovered near his groin, not touching but close enough to make him tense.
"Exactly like there. Though I'd appreciate it if you didn't actually demonstrate that particular strike."
"What if I want to touch you there?" Her voice had dropped, gone sultry. "Would that require push-ups too?"
Jason's breath caught. "Dany—"
"Or would you prefer I use my mouth? You seemed to enjoy that very much last night. The sounds you made when I—"
"Fifty push-ups," Jason said roughly. "Now."
"Fifty? That's not fair!"
"Neither is trying to give me a hard-on in the middle of the training circle where anyone could see." His eyes were dark, heated. "So unless you want the entire khalasar to know exactly how well you've learned to distract your husband, I suggest you start those push-ups."
Daenerys felt heat pool between her legs at his tone—commanding, dominant, exactly the way he sometimes was in bed when she'd pushed him past his careful control. She loved this side of him, loved that she could bring it out.
She dropped to the ground and started the push-ups, very aware of how his eyes tracked every movement. By thirty her arms were screaming, and by forty she had to pause to catch her breath.
"Keep going," Jason said, his voice still rough. "You wanted my attention, khaleesi. You've got it. Finish them."
Something about his tone made her shiver with want. She forced herself through the last ten, collapsed onto the grass, breathing hard.
Jason crouched beside her immediately. "You okay?"
"I hate you," she panted.
"No you don't." His hand stroked her sweat-dampened hair gently. "You love me. You told me so last night, right before you climbed on top of me and—"
"That's not fair," Daenerys interrupted. "If I can't make sexual comments, neither can you."
"I'm the instructor. I make the rules." But he was smiling now, that rare, genuine smile that transformed his face. "Come on—one more exercise, then we're done for the day."
He helped her up, then demonstrated a final self-defense technique—how to break free if someone pinned her against a wall. His body pressed hers against an imaginary barrier, his hand beside her head, his hips against hers.
"In this position," he said, his voice strained, "you're at a disadvantage. But you can still fight back. Knee to the groin, fingers to the eyes, bite if you have to."
"What if I don't want to fight back?" Daenerys looked up at him through her lashes. "What if I like being pinned against the wall by you?"
"Then we're not in a self-defense scenario anymore," Jason said roughly. "Then we're in a completely different scenario that ends with both of us naked and you screaming my name."
"Is that a promise?"
"After training. After the khalasar moves out. After you've had time to rest and recover." His thumb traced her lower lip gently. "Then I'm going to take you apart slowly, khaleesi. Make you beg for it."
Daenerys's breath caught, heat flooding through her. "Jason—"
"But first, you need to learn this technique." He stepped back firmly. "Show me how you'd break this hold."
They practiced the movement repeatedly until Daenerys could execute it smoothly. By the time Jason called an end to the training session, she was exhausted, covered in sweat and grass stains, and every muscle ached.
But she also felt powerful. Capable. Like maybe she could actually protect herself if needed.
"You did incredibly well," Jason said, genuine approval in his voice. "Most people can't handle their first full training session without complaining constantly. You just worked."
"I had good motivation," Daenerys managed, accepting the water skin he offered. "And an attractive instructor."
"Attractive, huh?"
"Devastatingly so. It's very distracting." She drank deeply, then looked at him. "So about tonight—"
"Tonight I'm going to make good on every promise I made," Jason said, his voice low and dark with intent. "But right now, we need to clean up and join the khalasar. They're already starting to move."
---
The days fell into a rhythm after that. Morning training before the khalasar moved out—Jason pushing her harder each day, teaching her new techniques, building her strength and confidence. Daenerys learned to channel her frustration and arousal into the physical work, and found that the training actually helped. She felt stronger, more capable, more herself than ever before.
And then the nights.
Oh, the nights.
That first time had been gentle, careful, Jason treating her like something precious that might break. But as Daenerys grew more confident, more comfortable in her own desires, things changed.
"I want to try something," she said one night, about a week after their first time. They'd just finished making love—Jason on top, moving slow and careful like always—and while it had been good, Daenerys wanted more.
"Yeah?" Jason was still breathing hard, collapsed beside her on the furs. "What did you have in mind?"
"Doreah said there are different positions. Different ways." Daenerys felt heat rise in her cheeks but forced herself to continue. "She said I could be on top. That I could control the pace, the depth. That it feels different."
Jason's eyes darkened with interest. "You want to ride me, khaleesi?"
The way he said it—rough and promising and explicitly sexual—made Daenerys's breath catch. "Yes. Show me how."
Jason rolled onto his back, pulling her with him until she was straddling his hips. His hands settled on her waist, warm and strong. "Like this. You set the pace, control everything. Take what you need from me."
Daenerys positioned herself carefully, sinking down onto him with a gasp. From this angle, he felt impossibly deep, filling her completely. "Oh gods. Jason, that's—"
"Different?" His hands tightened on her hips, but he didn't control her movements—just steadied her. "Good different or bad different?"
"Good. So good." She experimented with moving, lifting and lowering, finding a rhythm. "I can feel everything. Every inch of you."
"You look incredible," Jason said, his voice strained, his eyes tracking her movements hungrily. "Taking what you want from me. Using me for your pleasure. Fuck, Dany, you're perfect."
She loved having control, loved watching his face contort with pleasure as she moved, loved the way his hands tightened on her hips when she did something he particularly enjoyed. Loved the power in setting her own pace, in being able to chase her own pleasure while giving him his.
"Touch me," she gasped, guiding one of his hands between her legs. "I need—"
"I know what you need." His fingers found her center, circling expertly while she continued to ride him, and the dual sensation was overwhelming.
When she came, it was with her head thrown back, her hands braced on his chest for leverage, his name torn from her throat. The feeling of her tightening around him pushed Jason over the edge, and he followed her with a groan that was her name mixed with a curse.
She collapsed onto his chest afterward, both of them breathing hard, slick with sweat.
"That," she panted, "was incredible. Why didn't we do that before?"
Jason laughed breathlessly. "Because you needed time to adjust to the basics before we got creative. But yeah, that was—fuck, Dany. You're going to kill me."
"Good. Fair's fair." She pressed a kiss to his chest, right over his racing heart. "You've been killing me slowly since Pentos with how attractive you are. It's only fair I return the favor."
"Keep killing me like that and I'll die a very happy man."
Another night, maybe two weeks into the journey, Daenerys gathered her courage to ask about something else Doreah had mentioned.
They were already in bed, already naked and touching, Jason's mouth on her breast while his hand worked between her legs. She was close—so close—but she forced herself to speak.
"Jason, wait. I want to ask you something."
He pulled back immediately, concern in his eyes. "Are you okay? Am I hurting you?"
"No, gods no. The opposite." She took a breath. "Doreah said... she said men enjoy when a woman uses her mouth. On them. Is that true?"
Jason went very still, his eyes darkening with unmistakable heat. "She told you about that?"
"She explained how. What to do. Where to lick and suck and—" Daenerys felt her cheeks burning but forced herself to continue. "I want to try. I want to taste you. Make you feel as good as you make me feel."
"Dany." Jason's voice was strained. "You don't have to—"
"I know I don't have to. I want to." She pushed him onto his back, settling between his legs, her eyes tracking the obvious evidence of his arousal. "I want to learn everything. All the ways I can make you come apart. Will you let me?"
"Yes." The word came out rough, desperate. "Gods, yes. But if it's too much, if you don't like it—"
"Then I'll stop." She wrapped her hand around him experimentally, watching his reaction. "But I don't think I will. I think I'm going to love this."
Doreah's instructions had been detailed, but actually doing it was different than hearing about it. Daenerys started tentatively—a kiss to the tip, a slow lick along his length, learning the taste and texture of him. But Jason's reactions—the way he groaned, the way his hands fisted in her hair, the way his hips flexed despite his obvious attempts to hold still—those spurred her on.
She took him into her mouth properly, experimenting with what made him curse, what made his grip tighten in her hair, what made his breathing stutter.
"Just like that," he panted, his voice wrecked. "Fuck, Dany, your mouth—so good—you're so fucking good at this—"
She loved the power in it—the way this strong, dangerous man came completely undone under her attention. Loved the taste of him, salty and masculine and uniquely Jason. Loved the sounds he made, increasingly desperate and uncontrolled. Loved knowing she could reduce him to begging with just her mouth and her hands.
"Dany, I'm going to—you should—" His words cut off in a groan as she deliberately took him deeper, making her intentions clear.
When he finished, she swallowed, watching his face contort with pleasure, feeling triumphant and powerful and deeply satisfied.
"Come here," Jason said roughly the moment he could speak, pulling her up for a kiss that was messy and desperate and tasted of both of them. "That was—gods, that was incredible. You're incredible."
"Did I do well?" She knew the answer but wanted to hear him say it.
"You did perfectly. Better than perfectly." He rolled her beneath him, his hand already sliding between her legs. "Now it's my turn to make you feel that good."
He'd used his mouth on her before—had introduced her to that particular pleasure during their second time together—but it never stopped being overwhelming. The way he used his tongue, his lips, even the scrape of his teeth, building her pleasure until she was writhing and gasping and begging incoherently.
"Please," she whimpered, her hands fisted in his hair, her hips lifting against his mouth. "Please, Jason, I need—I'm so close—"
"I know, baby. I've got you." He sucked her center into his mouth, and Daenerys shattered, crying out his name as pleasure crashed through her in waves.
He didn't stop until she pushed weakly at his head, too sensitive to continue. Then he kissed his way up her body, settling beside her and pulling her into his arms.
"I think I died," Daenerys mumbled against his chest. "That killed me. I'm dead now."
Jason laughed. "You're very alive, khaleesi. I can feel your heart racing."
"That's just my body not realizing it's dead yet." She tilted her head up to look at him. "We're definitely doing that again. Frequently."
"Anything you want," Jason promised, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
Another week passed, and Daenerys found herself wanting to try yet another position Doreah had described. This one had sounded intimidating when explained, but after weeks of growing comfort with Jason, she felt ready.
They'd just finished dinner—eaten in their tent while the khalasar settled for the night—and Daenerys was feeling bold and aroused and ready.
"I want to try something different tonight," she said, moving to straddle his lap where he sat against the cushions.
Jason's hands automatically came to her hips. "Yeah? What did you have in mind?"
"From behind." She felt heat rise in her cheeks but forced herself to meet his eyes. "Doreah said it feels different. Deeper. More... primal. That some men really enjoy it because they can see—"
"Stop." Jason's voice had gone rough, his grip on her hips tightening. "Are you sure? That position can be intense."
"I'm sure." She kissed him, slow and deliberate. "I trust you. And I want to feel you that deep. Want to know what it's like."
Jason groaned against her mouth. "You're going to kill me. Actually kill me. My heart's going to give out from how much I want you."
"Then show me," she whispered. "Show me what you want, Jason. Stop holding back."
Something shifted in his expression—the careful control he always maintained slipping slightly, revealing the hunger beneath. "Hands and knees," he said, his voice gone dark and commanding. "Now."
Daenerys shivered at his tone and quickly complied, positioning herself on the furs. She felt vulnerable like this, unable to see his face, completely at his mercy. But the rush of arousal that accompanied the vulnerability told her that she liked it.
Jason's hands were gentle on her hips, positioning her slightly. "You tell me if this is too much. If it hurts, if you want to stop—"
"I will. I promise." She looked back at him over her shoulder. "Now stop being so careful and take me."
Jason's eyes darkened, and then he was entering her slowly, and Daenerys gasped at the depth, the angle, the overwhelming sensation of him filling her completely.
"Fuck," Jason groaned, his hands tightening on her hips. "You feel—Dany, you feel so good like this. So fucking perfect."
"Don't hold back," she managed, pushing back against him experimentally. "I want all of you. I want to feel you lose control."
"Be careful what you ask for," Jason warned, but his hips were already moving, finding a rhythm that was harder, deeper than usual.
Daenerys braced her weight on her forearms, meeting his thrusts, and discovered that Doreah had been right—this position was intense, overwhelming, almost primal in how it made her feel. And when Jason's hand slid around to touch her where they were joined, the combination was nearly too much.
"I can't—Jason, it's too much—I'm going to—"
"Do it," he commanded, his voice rough with his own approaching climax. "Come for me, khaleesi. Let me feel it."
She shattered with a cry that she barely managed to muffle in the furs, her arms giving out completely so that she collapsed forward while her hips stayed elevated. Jason followed moments later with a groan, his grip on her hips almost bruising as he finished inside her.
He collapsed over her back carefully, both of them breathing hard, slick with sweat.
"That," Daenerys panted when she could speak, "might be my new favorite."
Jason laughed breathlessly, pressing kisses to her shoulder. "Noted. Though I'm partial to when you ride me. Watching your face while you come apart on top of me—that's pretty incredible."
"We'll have to alternate," she decided. "For variety."
"I love how you think."
They rearranged themselves on the furs, tangled together in the aftermath. Jason pulled her against his chest, one arm around her waist, and Daenerys felt utterly content.
"Jason?" she said quietly.
"Hmm?"
"Thank you. For being patient with me. For teaching me—not just fighting, but this too. For making me feel beautiful and wanted and powerful."
"You are beautiful and wanted and powerful," Jason said firmly. "I'm just lucky you chose me."
"I'll always choose you," she said simply. "In every world, in every life. I'll always choose you."
Jason didn't respond with words—he still couldn't quite bring himself to say he loved her, though she could see it in his eyes every time he looked at her. But he showed her instead, rolling her beneath him and making love to her again, slow and tender this time, until they both fell asleep tangled together.
---
Three weeks into the journey, the changes in Daenerys were impossible to miss.
She moved differently now—with confidence, with purpose. The scared girl from Pentos had been replaced by someone stronger, someone who knew her own worth and wasn't afraid to claim what she wanted.
During training, she pushed herself harder, learned faster, absorbed techniques with a natural aptitude that impressed even Jason. She could break holds, strike weak points, and move with a grace that came from growing physical confidence.
During the day, she rode beside him as khaleesi, learning Dothraki from the bloodriders, asking intelligent questions about tactics and leadership. The warriors had started to respect her—not just as Jason's wife, but as someone worthy in her own right.
And at night...
At night she was insatiable.
"Again?" Jason said one evening, his voice a mixture of amusement and disbelief. They'd already made love once after dinner, and he'd thought they were settling in to sleep. "Dany, I'm not superhuman."
"The Lazarus Pit begs to differ," she said, her hand sliding down his stomach deliberately. "You heal faster than normal men. Stamina must be included in that."
"That's not how it works—" His words cut off in a groan as her hand found him, stroking confidently. "Fuck, okay, maybe that is how it works."
"I knew it." Her voice was smug as she straddled him again—her favorite position lately, the one that gave her the most control. "You can keep up with me, husband. Don't pretend otherwise."
"You're going to drain me dry," Jason muttered, but his hands were already on her hips, helping guide her down onto him.
"Good. That's the goal." She started moving, slow and deliberate, watching his face. "I like knowing I can make you want me this much. That even after we've already done this once tonight, you're still ready for me."
"I'm always ready for you," Jason admitted. "You've ruined me for anyone else, you know that? All I think about during the day is getting you alone at night. It's embarrassing."
"I think about it too," Daenerys confessed, her movements getting faster. "During meals. During the ride. While I'm training—which is probably why I keep provoking you into giving me extra push-ups. I like watching you watch me."
"You're a menace."
"I'm your khaleesi." She leaned down to kiss him, rolling her hips in a way that made him groan into her mouth. "And you love it."
"I do," he agreed, his hands sliding up to cup her breasts. "I really, really do."
Later, after they'd both finished and were collapsed together in a tangle of limbs and satisfaction, Daenerys traced patterns on Jason's chest idly.
"The bloodriders know," she said quietly. "About how often we... they make jokes. Haggo said something yesterday about how the khal is obviously very satisfied with his khaleesi. Qotho agreed that you smile more now than when you first took the khalasar."
"Should I be embarrassed?" Jason asked.
"No. They're pleased. A khal who is happy in his marriage is a strong khal. And they like that I make you happy." She paused. "Though Qotho also said we should consider that I might already be carrying your child. That we've been enthusiastic enough that it's certainly possible."
Jason went still. "I hadn't thought about that."
"Neither had I, until he mentioned it." Daenerys looked up at him. "Would you... would you want that? A child?"
"Eventually, yeah. But you're only sixteen, Dany. Pregnancy now would be—"
"Common in this world," she interrupted gently. "Most women my age are already mothers. Married younger, bearing children. It's expected."
"That doesn't make it right."
"Maybe not by your world's standards. But we're here now, in this world, with its expectations and realities." She kissed his chest. "I'm not saying I want to be pregnant immediately. But I'm not afraid of it either. If it happens, it happens. We'll deal with it together."
Jason's arm tightened around her. "Together," he agreed. "Always together."
Outside, the khalasar slept. Somewhere in that vast camp, Viserys was probably drinking and plotting, growing more desperate as his sister grew more independent and powerful.
But that was a problem for tomorrow.
Tonight, Jason held his wife—his strong, confident, insatiable wife who'd transformed from a scared girl into a woman who knew exactly what she wanted and wasn't afraid to take it.
And in the brazier's dying light, three dragon eggs gleamed silently, waiting.
Waiting for fire and blood and the impossible to become real.
But that was a story for another night.
---
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