Daenerys enters.

The sound of a slap made Daenerys flinch. The laughter that followed made her rage. But the women who had been hit simply smiled and curled back up to the man who had hit her.

"Punish me, I deserve it for what I did., Master." A blonde hair woman said softly, biting her lip as she practically hung off of the man who had just slapped her.

And then she realized what this place truly was, what they were selling. It wasn't just a brothel. They were selling her.

When she had conquered Meereen she had destroyed the lives of thousands of slavemasters. For every man and woman who loved her for what she had done, another hated her. And here, those who hated her could punish her, pretend that they were once again in control with women dressed up to look like her, to act like her.

"My name is Daenerys Targaryen."

Daenerys turned to watch as a petite blonde woman stood up on one of the tables a crowd of men gathered around her.

"First of my name!" she declared. One of the men booed, then reached up and pulled on her dress. "Mother of Dragons," she continued, the dress tore down the side, exposing one long tanned leg. "Breaker of Chains," another man grabbed at the other side pulling it off. The crowd cheered, "Rightful Heir-" the woman's last declaration was interrupted by a gasp as the last of her dress was torn from her, her breasts spilling free, her bare cunt and ass on display.

She was pulled from the table and hoisted off the ground and over the shoulder of one of the men. The crowd groped and pawed at her, and she heard the women cry out then moan. The man who had grabbed her carried her off, undoubtedly to a private room to do god's know what to her.

Daenerys looked away, she had heard places like this existed, but the perverted fantasies of men hardly mattered now. She had more important things to worry about.

There was a hallway beside the bar, leading to a backdoor, maybe, hopefully.

She ignored the calls of men and hurried through the room. She had barely made it halfway to the bar when she felt a hand wrap tightly around her arm.

"Your dress is filthy," a woman's voice said, stern and harsh. Daenerys turned to the stocky woman who held her. She was an older woman with greying hair and a thick build. "Did you fuck a man in a back alley?" she shook her as if she was disappointed.

"Stupid girl, go get changed," the woman said and nodded towards a room behind them, "and play the role and put on a damned collar."

Daenerys twisted her arm slightly, then noticed the man standing behind the woman. Tall, dark, his hand on the blade on his belt, a guard of some sort. He watched her for a moment before turning his attention back to the crowds, ever-present eyes watching for threats.