Daenerys finds solace with the Dothraki after Jon rejects her. (Season 8 AU)

"Leave," Daenerys demanded.

She loved him, cherished him, wished to build a new world with him and he was disgusted by her.

Jon opened his mouth to speak but no words came. He was rendered mute, ineffectual, pathetic. How had the man she had fallen in love with turn into this? Where had the man who stood in defiance before her at Dragonstone gone? The man who had refused to lie to Cersei in order to stand for what he believed in. He was a shell of a man and all it seemed he could do was give her a lingering look before he obeyed, turned, and left her alone.

Alone. She shuddered at the thought. He was her last connection, her last hope. Everyone else was dead. Viserion, Rhaegal, Jorah, and Missendei were gone. All gone. Even the man she loved couldn't offer her a respite from the loneliness.

She downed the glass of wine with an unsteady hand then let the cup fall back down onto the table. The hearth beside her roared, the fire inside blanketed the room in a warmth she could barely feel. She was alone.

A servant, a Dothraki girl, came and refilled her cup, her head down, unable to meet her Khaleesi’s eyes. Daenerys glanced at her, then at Dothraki guards that stood at her door, then back at the girl. She was young, barely into her womanhood. She had come here with her family, a mother and father, she likely had siblings, maybe a brother or two. All of them had left Essos and crossed the Narrow Sea to fight for her and her quest for the throne. She had brought the Dothraki here from across the world to die for a Kingdom and people that did not care.

She downed her freshly filled cup just as quickly as the last. Tomorrow she would destroy her enemies wherever she found them, she would take back what was hers by right. But tonight, she looked at the empty room, tonight she was nothing.

She stood on uneasy legs and made her way to the large empty bed.

"Elat," she said, telling the servant girl to leave her in the Dothraki tongue.

Alone. She thought. Unwanted by the North, unwanted by Westeros, unwanted by Jon. She drank from her cup again, downing another glass. The wine made her head spin.

She did not wish to be alone. She was the Queen, the Mother of Dragons, she should not be alone. The Dothraki worshiped her, Lords feared her, and men all over the world wanted to bed her. Even here there must have been dozens of Westerosi Lords waiting to court her. That was the truth of it, if she did not wish to be alone, she did not need to be alone.

She turned and looked at her three Dothraki guards. She didn't know their names, she didn't know them. She had used them to fight her wars and she did not even know their names. In fact she could not even recall the name of the girl who had served her her food and wine, nor the second in command of her Dothraki. The man who led her navy, the woman who sewed her clothes or the one who braided her hair. They were all nothing, she was the Queen but her life revolved around a tiny handful of people, most of whom were now dead or disgusted by her. The rest? The rest were nameless bodies in the background of her life, warriors to die for her, cooks to feed her, women to bathe her, she treated them no better than tools to be used.

Was she any better than the petty Northerners who had used her to fight their wars?

Daenerys stood there, uncertain, she looked at her empty bed, then at her guards.