Daenerys gets a change of clothing.

Maybe a change of clothes would be good. She nodded, "Of course," and it seemed to please the older woman.

"Move!" someone yelled in low Valryian. Both women turned to look at the front door as it swung open and four Harpies entered.

Daenerys slunk away from the woman and hurried towards the back room. Keeping an eye on the Harpies as they entered the brothel and removed their masks. They watched the brothel with searching eyes, looking for her no doubt. Daenerys ducked into the room and hoped she hadn't been noticed.

A dressing room awaited her, two dozen dresses hung on hooks on wall, mirrors and makeup lined another. She looked down at her own dress, the white fabric was caked in dust and grim. She turned back and looked worried at the door before she began disrobing, pulling the dress off her shoulders and let it pool around her feet.

She grabbed a blue dress, not so unlike one she had worn before and slipped it on then hesitated over the pile of collars. Slave collars. More ornate than the ones most slaves she had freed had worn, but still a slave collar. The hooks were gold and silver, the leather embroidered with designs of fire and dragons. All these men wanting to have their own little dragon slave.

It was just a costume, a game, a way to get out. She closed her eyes and grabbed the first collar, brought it to her neck, wrapped it around her throat, and latched it in the back.

Hide in plain sight, the men chasing her would just see another whore dressed up to look like the Queen they despised so much. Nothing more. If she was lucky she could simply walk out the front door. If she was lucky.

The Harpies were still near the front of the room, arguing between themselves. The Lady of the house was watching them cautiously as well, the guard beside her on alert, but neither made a move to do anything.

Daenerys watched for a moment before turning down the hall. More rooms waited for her, maybe one would be led to a means of escape.