[ Drogo. Jon. She watches them both with a carefully neutral expression, unmoving in the face of their silence. Like stone, she becomes. They're left with their quiet to consider, and just as it reaches the point where the pitter-patter of rain above threatens to swallow them whole, Drogo speaks.

Yes. He will trust Jon as he trusted Jorah when trust was a rare thing which should be earned. And his terms are soon laid bare between them. Terms which warm her gaze, tug a fond smile to her lips as she nods at her husband. The violence is frowned upon to a certain extent, but it's so familiar coming from his lips that it leaves an ache in her chest. Gods, how she missed him. ]

Should he choose betrayal, you would face no opposition in your vengeance.

[ Not quite as reassuring for Jon--yet it also speaks to her confidence in him to keep to his word. His reaction to being called fierce is not lost on her, either; it fuels the amusement in her gaze, now turned onto the wolf. The Dothraki understand power, and Drogo is no different in this. More than that, however, she's witnessed his ferocity in verbal spars, as well.

Her chin lifts in the face of his comment. ]

I do. It may be our only way of returning home, and if it is, then I will do what needs to be done. [ Whether that's playing along with their game or not. ] I will see my children again. All of them.