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They have been a few days in the Red Waste and have who knows how many more ahead of them when Daenerys first breaks down.
Not where anyone will see, of course. It wouldn't do for the people now following her -- that she is now leading -- to be made aware of her doubts, her fears, her anxieties, her loneliness. She must be strong for them, and it is this resolve that causes her to keep her head up all during the hours of traveling, the meals that are already becoming meager. She smiles, she makes decisions, she passes time with the dragons and thanks whichever god is listening for them.
It's not till night has fallen and everyone has begun to drift off to rest, till she is alone (something she is so unused to now, after sharing her bed; it's funny, at least in a tragic sort of way, because she was alone for most of her life but now, after what amounts to so little time elsewise, she dreads it), that she lets at least some of it wash over her. She's quiet, it is not her intention to alarm anyone, but she has not let herself do this and she thinks, if dimly, that perhaps she needs to.
When she hears a voice outside her tent, though, she does her best to calm herself, sitting up and wiping her tears away with the back of her hand, steadying her voice as she calls, "Hello?" Anything else, anything belying her emotion, wouldn't do.
Not where anyone will see, of course. It wouldn't do for the people now following her -- that she is now leading -- to be made aware of her doubts, her fears, her anxieties, her loneliness. She must be strong for them, and it is this resolve that causes her to keep her head up all during the hours of traveling, the meals that are already becoming meager. She smiles, she makes decisions, she passes time with the dragons and thanks whichever god is listening for them.
It's not till night has fallen and everyone has begun to drift off to rest, till she is alone (something she is so unused to now, after sharing her bed; it's funny, at least in a tragic sort of way, because she was alone for most of her life but now, after what amounts to so little time elsewise, she dreads it), that she lets at least some of it wash over her. She's quiet, it is not her intention to alarm anyone, but she has not let herself do this and she thinks, if dimly, that perhaps she needs to.
When she hears a voice outside her tent, though, she does her best to calm herself, sitting up and wiping her tears away with the back of her hand, steadying her voice as she calls, "Hello?" Anything else, anything belying her emotion, wouldn't do.