The woman in red comes to her three days after Khal Jhaqo finds her. The Khal has not killed her, not so long as Drogon remains with her. He is afraid of the dragon; most of them are. Few dare to approach her. That is fine with her. She prefers the solitude over the attention, and it is for her own safety as well. If they were to discover that her control over Drogon is not as great as they believe, it could mean her death rather than capture.
Khal Jhaqo intends to leave her at Vaes Dothrak so she may take her place among the crones, the dosh khaleen. Her husband is dead, after all, and so is her child. Daenerys does nothing about this; the journey will be long and slow, more so now that she and her dragon are with them. She does not fight them, at least, not yet. For now, she waits and considers her options.
Her army and her people are in Meereen. Rhaegal and Viserion are in Meereen. But Meereen is not her home. She is Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen, and the throne of Westeros is rightfully hers. But is the throne of Westeros truly worth all that she must do to get it?
Even with all her troubles in Meereen, she is able to rule. The Sons of the Harpy have shown themselves to be a threat, but she has Unsullied, and Second Sons, and Stormcrows. She has three dragons. Westeros is different. Her House was overthrown, her family slain. She has never seen the land nor met the people. Would they welcome another Targaryen? Or would she be forced to fight for her throne, to take it with fire and blood, death and destruction?
It is while she considers these things that one of the men guarding her that day announces she has a visitor. A maegi, he says, voice laced with disgust and hatred. Dany shares his sentiment; the last maegi she encountered was responsible for the deaths of her son and husband.
"Enter," she calls out in Dothraki. A woman enters, her cloak and hood red as blood. Copper hair falls from the shroud, and when she stands straight, Dany sees a glowing ruby at her neck.
A maegi, the guard had said. This woman looked like no maegi Dany has ever seen, although she supposes they do not all look the same. Behind her, beneath her back, Drogon begins to stir, as if he can sense what this woman is. A puff of smoke is blown from his nostrils, and he raises his head to look at their visitor.
The tent Khal Jhaqo had given to Dany was perhaps the largest in the entire Khalasaar. Drogon could not fit in it, but he usually rested half his body inside, the back of the tent draping over the portion that could not fit. He either napped her, with her, or left to hunt. Even when he hunted, the Dothraki avoided her. They all knew her Drogon would return and they were all fearful of the black dragon.
"Your Grace," the woman says in the Common Tongue, standing at her full height. She is slightly taller than Daenerys, almost the size of Ser Barristan or her bear-no, she could not say his name, could not think of him. Not while the wound still healed.
"You are from the Seven Kingdoms?" Daenerys asks this stranger, eyes wide with surprise. She wonders how this woman had convinced the Dothraki to allow her to see Daenerys. Then she remembers that this woman is a maegi, and the Dothraki fear them both. Of course, it was just as likely they would kill her tomorrow. With a dragon to protect her, the chances of Dany's death were less than a maegi's.
The woman lifts her lips in a smile. "No, Your Grace. I am Melisandre of Asshai, a Priestess of R'hollor. I have traveled to Westeros, to serve the man I thought to be the true king of Westeros. But my visions were not clear. I saw fire and dragons hatching from stone. Now I understand that my visions were of you, Queen Daenerys." The woman bows low, though she never takes her gaze off of Dany.
Despite the woman's claims, Daenerys does not believe her. So this Melisandre has been to Westeros, and served her enemies. Briefly, she wonders which failed king the priestess had hailed to, before she brushes such meaningless thoughts aside. Who the woman served before is not important; each one was her enemy, a rival for that which was hers by right.
"You say this as if it should be reason enough for me to welcome you. Yet you claimed to have believed the same thing for one of my enemies. Tell me, which false king did you serve? Was it Robert Baratheon? Or perhaps the child king, Joffrey? Where is your false king now? Dead?" she asks, letting all her mistrust and suspicion poison her words.
For her part, Melisandre does not become angry or insulted, and answers with, "That does not matter, my queen. The Lord of Light has shown me a vision of you, and my loyalty is not all I offer you." Before she can say any more, Dany interrupts her.
"You're loyalty?" she scoffs. "You follow your visions. I have not seen these visions, do not know what you have seen exactly. You abandoned your last king when your visions told you that he was not right. How can I be certain that you will not do the same to me?"
"Because of the gift I would give to you, Your Grace."
Dany narrows her eyes. "Gift. I do not trust maegi, priestess. My encounters with magic have not been pleasant, and have not ended well for those wielding it." She thinks of Mirri Maz Duur, and the warlock Pyat Pree. Both of them wished her death, and yet neither can do much to harm her now.
The priestess steps closer to Daenerys and kneels at her feet. Dany cannot help the instinctive movement she makes to lean away, to get away from the foreign woman before her, even if she knows there is nowhere for her to move. She can feel Drogon becoming restless with this stranger, and places a hand on his neck to comfort him. To her surprise, he settles some, though he holds his head as high as he can and a low growl rumbles from inside him.
"I know you will like my gift, Your Grace. I have seen it in my fire." She pauses, and looks Daenerys directly in the eye when she says, "I would bring your lost love back from the dead."
Dany knows she should not trust this maegi, has suffered for such a mistake in the past. Yet she cannot stop herself from feeling the want to have Drogo back, the need to see her sun and stars, and feel him inside her again. She would feel whole, she realizes, and her sun and stars may be able to give her a bigger army, as he had intended to do so before. They may even have a child, a son like the one she would have had. Mirri Maz Duur had said that her womb would quicken once her Drogo was returned to her.
Her voice quivers when she asks, "You would give this to me? For nothing? You would do this to show me that you are loyal?" She wants it, she wants it more than anything she has ever wanted, she thinks. But she doesn't know if she can be sure. She has no way to know that this isn't some trick, unless she allows this woman to work whatever magic she has and see for herself.
And she realizes that, as fearful as she is of what this maegi may do, she cannot allow this opportunity to pass. If this woman could bring Drogo back, Dany would be given her sun and stars again. If not, then she has lost nothing more than she had already.
The priestess answers as these thoughts pass through Dany's head. "It would not be for nothing, Your Grace." Those words have her attention snapping back to Melisandre, and the woman adds, "The Lord of Light has shown me a vision of you and your love. He has shown me that you must be reunited, if the Great Other is to be defeated."
Daenerys does not know what this means, does not understand who this Great Other is. She had seen worshipers of R'hollor before in the Free Cities, but had never learned much of it. She had always been on the run, she and Viserys, always one step ahead of the Usurper's assassins. The want is still there, though, and it overpowers any other emotion.
She rises to her feet, towering above Melisandre, who still kneels. "I will accept your gift. But be warned, Priestess. The last maegi that took my husband from me burned. You will too, if you cannot give me this gift."
"I will, Your Grace. The Lord of Light commands it, and so it will be done," Melisandre says, her smile perhaps the most genuine she has given Daenerys.
When the khalasar stops the next evening, Daenerys follows the priestess to a clearing just outside of the Khalasaar. The grass that grew everywhere has been burned away. An almost-circle of flat, empty land remains.
As they walked through the khalasar, Dany had felt the weight of their stares. They were afraid of both the Red Woman and the Mother of Dragons. But Dany worries that the fear may turn to anger once they realize what they are doing. Drogon is hunting, and though they are afraid of him, his absence may give them enough courage to kill both her and the priestess.
To her surprise, a small pyre stands ready. A young man, only a few years older than Daenerys, waits beside it. He stares at Daenerys and she can see the awe in his expression. When he tears his eyes away from her, they go to Melisandre. There is no love in his face, but there is a certain trust that Dany finds not unexpected. He is obviously from Westeros, and she doubts he would have traveled with the priestess if he didn't - or couldn't - trust her in some way.
As they get nearer, Dany sees that there is a body atop the pyre. Wrapped in a dark cloak, she can only see that it is a man's body. She looks to Melisandre in question, but the priestess is not paying attention to her.
Turning her head, she notices a cart and two horses a little ways away, near the edge of the clearing. The young man had walked over to there, and he returns with another man, dragging him across the ground and to the pyre.
"Only death may pay for life," Melisandre says from behind Daenerys, making her jump. The young man ties whoever he had been dragging to the pyre, then steps away. He nods to Melisandre.
Dany doesn't listen to what is said when Melisandre steps forward, a torch in her hand. None of it matters, so long as her sun and stars is returned to her.
The sun is just disappearing beyond the horizon when Melisandre puts the torch to the pyre, and it alights in flames. Daenerys watches, hope rising with the fire.
My sun and stars will return, she says in her thoughts to combat the fear that this is all wrong. My sun and stars will return.
Some of the flames still burn high when she sees movement on the pyre. Distantly, she hears Melisandre tell her that she can go to him, and she does. It is only a few feet away, still Dany runs to her husband.
The sun is gone, and the only light comes from the fire, yet she can still see him. He is moving slowly, as if waking from a deep sleep. She worries that he may burn himself in the fire, and runs faster.
As if a path had been made in the fire, she falls to her knees beside her Drogo unscathed. The tears blur her vision, and she closes her eyes to wipe them clear. When she opens them, they are met immediately by dark grey ones.
For a moment, she cannot bring herself to move. The eyes are so familiar, and aren't. She knows she has seen them before, but knows that it could not have been in person. She would have remembered if they had.
When she finally moves again, she sees the pale skin and lean muscle, the young face, the eyes that haunt her. This is not her sun and stars. This is a boy, maybe her age, a boy that has been forced to grow old beyond his years. He stares at her, his mouth gaping. Not her sun and stars, not Drogo.
He gasps her name before his eyes roll back into his head and he falls back onto the pyre.
A/N: Only kind of canon compliant. Will be continued.