Drogo sat down in the newly set up tent. The Khalasar needed to stop due to it begining to rain. It was rare that the deserts of Essos got rain. Perhaps the Great Stallion or Mother Of Mountains have decided that rain is needed for some purpose as inconvenient as it was. His deep brown eyes watched the flap open and a head of silver hair enter followed by your small frame.

"You are soaked."

The Khal commented in his deep voice. His voice held authority. You were his little girl after all. You were his to take care of as your father.

"Go change and dry off."

Last thing he wanted was for you to end up ill. You had been a sickly baby when you were born, and though you grew out of, Drogo still worried about you becoming sick all the time again.