Sorry for the long wait, it's been harder for me to write these chapters than my other stories on this site due to COVID-19 and my lack of access to the source material at University. But I am so happy readers have been enjoying the story so far and I enjoy the comments everyone leaves in the reviews. This has always been my passion project and I am so pleased that people have been able to immerse themselves in the story so well. Thank you so much for the support and I am excited for the upcoming chapters!

The blistering heat of the sun was pressing down against Daenerys, but her attention was focused on the front of the Khalasar where her husband heavily leaned on his own horse. The hoard had spent the past few weeks pillaging and ravaging cities of the Lamb men to collect enough valuables and gold to purchase ships to cross the Narrow Sea. During the whole ghastly event, the silver Princess had tried desperately to convince her husband to cross not for their son, but for her nephew, Jon. But Khal Drogo had claimed only weak men required the help of others and if this 'Jon' wanted the iron chair then he simply should take it from the Khal once he claimed it as his own. The woman attempted to explain that by the time they reached the Seven Kingdoms Jon could already have the throne, but her words fell on deaf ears.

The least she had been able to do was claim the women they had taken as slaves, protecting them from the desires of the more deplorable bloodriders. Mago had brought the issue to the Khal, stating he would never bow to a foreign whore. His plight ended with his throat ripped open by her husband and the women safe from the hands of the other men, but now Drogo was injured and Dany believed it was far worse than he played it off to be. He had been terribly pale and weak when he mounted his stallion this morning, ignoring her pleas of rest and recuperation.

"My Lord," The Valyrian woman called out as she rode up beside the Khal. "My sun and stars." She frowned as he continued to not answer her, "Drogo." And now she had to watch in horror as her husband swayed on his saddle before falling off of his mount, crashing to the ground. She quickly jumped off her horse and ran to the prone form of her husband, placing her hand upon his forehead and cringing at the heated flesh.

"My horse," Drogo deliriously called out. "No, I must ride."

The bloodriders circled around the fallen Khal and Chollo joined his Khaleesi on the ground, holding his old friend's hand, "Blood of my blood."

"He fell from his horse," Dany turned her eyes and glared at the condescending look upon Qotho's face. "A Khal who cannot ride is no Khal."

"He's tired, that's all. He needs to rest," She pressed against the bloodrider's words. "We've ridden far enough today. We'll camp here."

Qotho sneered, "This is no place to camp. A woman does not give us orders, not even a Khaleesi."

"We'll camp here," She insisted. "Tell them Khal Drogo commanded it."

"You do not command me Khaleesi."

"Find me Mirri Maz Duur, bring her to me."

"The witch?" The Dothraki man scoffed. "I'll bring you her head, Khaleesi."

The Targaryen glared at Qotho, "Bring her to me unharmed or Khal Drogo will hear why you defied me." The bloodrider spared a final glance at the woman before leading his horse back into the throng of the Khalasar. Daenerys turned her head back to her fallen husband, worrying about how his condition could have worsened so quickly.

She waited by him, holding his hand as he continued to mutter out random words and oddly pieced together phrases until Mago returned with Mirri Maz Duur, dragging the poor older woman harshly by her left arm. The Dothraki male shoved the slave towards the Khaleesi before leaving once more to direct the rest of the Khalasar to unload and set up camp. Daenerys rose to help the poor woman but paused in her movements when Ser Connington swept in and caught her before she fell to the ground. Mirri Maz Duur scrambled to get out of the arms of the Westerosi knight but uttered a soft 'thank you' once she was on her own feet again. The witch then focused her talents on the ill Khal, checking the open wound which had yet to scab.

While the two women stayed over the large Dothraki man, Ser Connington kept an eye on the hoard as they swiftly set up the entirety of the tents, motioning for the bloodriders to collect their Khal once his tent rose against the horizon. The knight's watch switched between his Princess and the other knight, who was observing the entire situation but doing little to nothing to assist the ailing husband of the Valyrian woman.

When Drogo and Daenerys had fully entered the tent only then did the two knights follow past the two Dothraki men guarding the opening to the tent, Jon subtly shoving Jorah further away from Daenerys when he entered the tent.

"Khaleesi," Jorah respectfully muttered as he slowly inched closer to the woman, mindful of Connington's painfully constant eye. The Northern man kneeled by the wounded Khal and carefully lifted the patch of healing herbs placed over the now festering wound, cringing at the spread of dark pigment through the Drogo's veins connected to the cut.

"He's very strong," Daenerys insisted. "No one understands how strong he is."

Ser Mormont shook his head, "he will die tonight Khaleesi."

"He can't," She denied. "He can't. I won't let him."

"Even a Queen doesn't have that power, Daenerys," The woman spared a glance at her old protector as his stoic face shifted slightly to relieve the sorrow he felt watching his Lady in pain.

Jorah nodded in agreement, "We must go quickly, there's a good port in Asshai-"

"I won't leave him."

"He's already gone, Khaleesi," The Bear pressed.

Daenerys' tearful eyes glanced down upon her husband, "Even if he dies, why would I run? I am Khaleesi and my son will be Khal after Drogo."

"This is not Westeros where men honor blood," Ser Jon pressed. "Here they only honor strength."

The silver-haired woman frowned at Ser Connington, but the other knight in the room tilted his head in agreement once more, "They'll be fighting after Drogo dies. The one that wins will be the new Khal, and he won't want any rivals. Your boy will be plucked from your breast and given to the dogs."

She glared at the blonde man, "I won't leave him."

"Khaleesi," She raised her brow as the Griffin spoke up. "While Ser Jorah and I rarely see eye to eye on matters, this is one we both know will not end well if you stay with your dying husband." He furrowed his brows as the female dragon turned away from him, "You must think about what's best for your child."

As the Targaryen woman thought upon her sworn sword's words Mirri Maz Duur reentered the tent after she stepped out when the Westerosi knights asked to speak privately with the Khal's wife. Qotho followed the older woman as she wandered into the tent, keeping a hand close to his weapon in case she meant to harm the Khal.

"The wound has festered, badly."

Qotho sneered at her use of the Common Tongue, "You did this witch." He drew his blade to take care of the cursed woman when Dany's voice rang out.

"Stop it, I don't want her hurt."

"No? No? You don't want her hurt?" The Bloodrider questioned. "Pray we don't hurt you too. You let this witch put her hands on our Khal." He kicked the lamb priestess into the ground with his declaration and the Targaryen woman widened her eyes in shock of the disrespect.

"Rein in your tongue. She is still your Khaleesi," Jorah quickly reminded the man.

"Only while the blood of my blood lives!" Qotho screamed out. "When he dies, she is nothing." Daenerys took a deep breath before rising from her place by her husband's side, keeping eye contact with the Dothraki man the entire time, grimacing as she felt her son kick within her as she moved.

"I have never been nothing. I am the blood of the Dragon."

He shrugged, "The dragons are all dead, Khaleesi." He spared a final glare at the witch before he rejoined Chollo outside of his Khal's tent opening. Ser Connington let the hand upon his blade leave to steady the swaying pregnant woman.

"I think you should both wear your armor tonight, Sers."

The Northern man turned to his Khaleesi, "I think you're right." The two men then reluctantly left the large tent to acquire the metal armor they kept packed away while they were traveling with the large hoard of Dothraki. As the Valyrian woman watched her two protectors leave she sniffled and urged her tears back into her eyes while glancing between Drogo and the foreign healer. She knew the Dothraki did not trust Mirri Max Duur due to their different religions and cultures, but surely if so many of the slave women trusted her with their injuries she would help the woman who saved her from the filthy hands of the men who attacked her village. She worried if Drogo passed the bloodriders would blame the innocent woman and unjustly punish her, Dany shuddered at the thought. She had seen first hand what happened to the man who threatened her life, but if someone threatened the Khal?

They would suffer unmeasurably.

"You've saved me once more," The older woman spoke up as she glanced away from the dying man laid out before her.

"And now you must save him," Dany demanded as she tried to hide the fear in her eyes from the observant healer, but the lamb woman smirked as she felt the feeling of desperation dripping off of the heavily pregnant woman.

"He's beyond a healer's skill," She lied effortlessly to the Khaleesi. "All I can do is ease his path."

"Save him and I will free you, I swear it," The Targaryen woman begged. Mirri Maz ignored the promise of freedom and instead shuffled her healing balms and ointments around, pretending to appear remorseful to the savage laying by her. "You must know a way. Some, some magic?"

The black-haired woman paused, and let a smirk shadow her face before she turned a quizzical eye to the Khaleesi, "There is a spell. Some would say death is cleaner," She tactfully warned the pleading woman.

Daenerys let the healer's words mull over in her head as she resituated herself by her husband's side, letting a small smile appear on her face as his constantly shifting eyes settled on her for a moment and a warmth grew in his gaze.

"Do it. Save him."

"There is a price," The older woman added.

Purple eyes bore into brown, "You can have gold, whatever you want."

"It's not a matter of gold," The woman raised her brow in annoyance. "This is blood magic. Only death pays for life."

"My death?"

She shook her head, "No, not your death Khaleesi," She spared a glance down the younger woman's body. "Bring me his horse." Daenerys nodded her head and Irri quickly rose from her seat in the back of the tent to go collect the fine animal. While the other two women waited for the handmaiden to return they jumped at the sudden sound of clanking metal making its way into the tent. The healer frowned at the entrance of the over observant knight donned in a red and silver metal shirt and matching pant coverings, but paused at the metal hat he held that was embellished with two bird wings on the sides of the item. The Valyrian Princess spared a small gander to Ser Connington's armor and smiled at the nostalgia she received from seeing him in it. A small memory of her mother and the armored knight walking through an enclosed garden past by her eyes, and she smiled as she gazed at the Dothraki man she knew she loved as passionately as her mother loved her Red Knight.

The trio did not have a long wait in silence as a ripping sound filled the tent and the horse entered through a cut open siding. The stallion neighed loudly as it was brought in and raised its legs in distress at the sight of the lamb woman tossing ingredients into a small fire. The two Dothraki men holding the reins of the animal struggled to keep it in place as the witch pulled out a sharp dagger from a hidden pocket in her robes.

"Khaleesi, do not do this thing," Rakharo pleaded as he watched in fear as the older woman stepped closer to the horse and his Khal. "Let me kill this witch."

"Kill her and you kill your Khal."

The young man shook his head, "This is blood magic. It is forbidden."

"I am your Khaleesi," She snapped out as she rubbed her extended stomach. "I tell you what is forbidden." The conversation stopped abruptly as Mirri Maz Duur began to chant in a language none of the other witnesses knew, but Jon kept a firm hand on his blade as he listened to the harsh tone of the voice spewing such magic into the air. She paused her chanting and turned to the other people in the tent.

"Go now," She warned.

Daenerys turned to the loyal Dothraki male, "Take her," She gestured to Irri who had been waiting behind her Khaleesi. Rakharo frowned at the fear etched on the sweet woman's face and swiftly led her from the vile tent.

"My Princess you as well should leave," Ser Connginton lightly muttered into the Silver woman's ear. "The effects of blood magic can be quite dark, and I do not know if you could witness it unscathed," She shook her head in defiance.

"You must also go. My lady," Mirri Maz Duur spoke up when she noticed the Targaryen woman had yet to leave her presence. "No one must enter the tent once I begin to sing. The dead will know what's here tonight." She frowned at the healer, but as she looked down once more upon Drogo's weak form she knew she could not let her stubbornness stop her husband's chances of recovery. She shakingly placed a gentle kiss on his brow before taking her knight's hand.

"No one will enter," The black-haired woman smirked at the Westerosi pair and ran her dagger over the throat of the horse, letting its blood seep onto the Khal's body as she once more started her ritual. Daenerys flinched back as some of the animal blood sprayed onto her face but remained in her spot with her hand firmly grasping Ser Jon's. The stallion whined out as the dying creature fell to the floor, but all Dany did was keep her eyes focused on the brown eyes of the slave healer in front of her, "Bring him back to me."

Jon then quickly pulled Rhaella's daughter from the tent as the dark woman began to chant. Both frowned at the large crowd of onlookers standing outside of the tent's entrance, but the Griffin gently led Daenerys towards them as the sound of singing echoed in the air. He stopped his guidance when Ser Jorah quickly approached the pregnant lady.

"What have you done?" He gravely whispered as he observed the blood drying on her skin and the frown etched on the older man's wrinkling face.

"I have to save him," Dany breathed out as if she was in a trance herself. Jorah raced the woman on one side as she started to sway and Ser Connington let her lightly lean onto him as she attempted to appear strong to the crowd.

"We could have been ten miles away from here by now and on our way to Asshai, you would have been safe." The ginger man narrowed his eyes at the condescending tone the Northern man used upon his Princess, but refocused his attention onto her as she let out small gasps of pain. A loud unholy howling ripped through the air and the entire mass of people outside the tent locked their eyes upon the area in question, freezing as the inhuman sound continued to pound in their ears.

The crowd parted as a man's voice echoed back against the beastly noise, "This must not be." The knights and their royal lady turned their eyes and bodies as Qotho emerged from the crowd.

"This must be," The Khaleesi countered.

He snarled at the pale woman, "Witch!" He was pulled back lightly by Rakharo muttering assurances, but he slammed his elbow into the younger male and sent him tumbling towards the ground. He strode his way forward toward the tent to stop the slave woman's ritual from continuing when Daenerys ripped herself from her protectors and flung her body into the bloodriders.

"No, you can't!" Her cries fell on deaf ears and he harshly threw her body to the ground. The pregnant woman cried out as she landed on her stomach and Ser Connington rushed to her side, turning her onto her back and lightly pressing her stomach to check the child's health. He cringed as she moaned in pain and motioned for Irri and Doreah to assist him.

Jorah grimaced at the callous treatment of the Targaryen female and withdrew his sword, "No further, horse lord," Qotho glanced back at the Andal, scoffing at the long blade. But he charged at the man anyway, swinging his arak into the knight's foreign weapon. Jorah pushed him back and parried the Dothraki's next attack, but was unable to move fast enough in his armor to miss the slice across his left cheek. He bashed his sword into the younger man's curved blade before lunging under his high swing, dodging around the angered man. The horde warrior jumped and slammed his small weapon towards the knight, but the man matched his blow and sent him flying away. Jorah waited for the man to once more attack and smirked as Qotho swung his blade into his side, unknowingly snagging the weapon in his chainmail. As the Dothraki male tried to pry his arak out of the uninjured man's side he swiftly lashed his own blade out and breathed a sigh of relief as the bloodrider fell to the ground dead.

He spared a final glance at the dead man's body before resheathing his sword and rushing to his Khaleesi's side, "Are you hurt?"

She gasped and tried to control her breathing as a sharp pain shot through her body, "The baby is coming."

The Northern knight threw a look to Doreah as Ser Connington gently lifted the Targaryen into his arms, "Fetch the midwives."

Rakharo sadly shook his head at the Mormont man, "They will not come, they say she is cursed."

"They'll come or I'll have their heads," The Bear demanded as he helped his fellow exile carry the woman in labor.

Rakharo shifted his eyes as he struggled for a solution, "The witch," He answered. "She can bring baby. I hear her say so."

The two men exchanged glances and The Lord of Griffin's Roost stopped in his tracks as Jorah tried to lead Daenerys back into the tent seeped with blood magic, "You cannot bring her to that woman, she is dangerous."

"She is the only one who can help," He stressed. The man remained rooted in his spot, refusing to entertain the outlandish idea as he gazed into the pain-filled eyes of his love's only daughter. "She will lose her son if we don't get her help." The older man's face fell at the words he had heard many times before when Rhaella's miscarriages took her promised children away from her and reluctantly allowed the Northern man to lead them into the tent. He prayed the Mother would save Rhaella's daughter from the same suffering she had to live with.

As soon as he and Jorah had brought the woman the howling ceased and the lamb slave had quickly banished them from the tent. The two men were forced to wait outside while Irri and Doreah were allowed in to assist in the labor. Jon flinched at every wail and cry Daenerys let out through the night, praying both mother and child survived the painful delivery. When pink hues of the dawn painted the horizon Ser Connington began to pace in front of the entrance. He paused as Irri shuffled out of the tent as the wailing finally receded, He smiled at the woman but his smile was wiped from his face at the bloody bundle she shakily held in her arms. He froze as she carefully stepped up to him and he gazed at the still form of a pale blue-tinted infant. The breathless child had hair as black as night and a soft look with his eyes closed, as if the infant was asleep instead of stillborn. He shamefully looked away from the poor soul and motioned for Irri to continue to where she was already heading towards. The greying man then set his gaze to the tent and walked in before Jorah was able to stop him, passing the healer who faced away from him as she leaned over the Khal to stop in front of the rough makeshift birthing bed Daenerys slept in.

"She'll live, but I doubt she'll ever bear another child," Mirri Maz Duur's voice cut through the silence like a sharp knife to the skin, but her words just washed over the saddened knight. He had failed his Princess, but worse he had failed his dear Queen. He should have done something to protect her child better, perhaps then the young woman would not be burdened with a cursed womb much like her mother. Rhaella had suffered three miscarriages before she gave birth to Prince Rhaegar alone and now her daughter was doomed to the same fate. As the man lamented over the past he had tried so hard to ignore bleeding into the present he failed to notice Dany's purple eyes fluttering open.

"Ser Connington."

Her weak whisper brought the knight out of his remorse and he rose to stand by her side, barely noticing the other knight had entered the tent and joining him by the Targaryen. "Gently, gently," He muttered as she attempted to sit up by herself.

"My son, where is he? I want him." Jon turned his head to Jorah and grimaced as he attempted to find the words he needed, but his silence shook the woman to her core. "Where is he?"

Jorah opened his mouth, "The boy did not live."

The silver-haired woman glanced away from the Northern man, "Tell me."

"What is there to tell?"

Her face contorted in rage at his flippant comment, "How did my son die!?"

"He never lived," She shot her head to the sorrowful face of her mentor. "My Princess."

"The women say-" Jorah was cut off by a harsh elbow to his ribs, surely he must know that gossip is not what a mourning mother needs.

The Dragon woman trembled, "What do they say?"

Jorah sighed, "They say the child was-"

"Monstrous."

The trio by the bed followed the mirthful voice to the very slave who helped birth the baby. She casually stood slightly away from the huddled group with a look painting her face Ser Connington would almost call ecstatic, "It was twisted. I pulled him out myself." She strode closer to the weak woman. "He was scaled like a lizard, blind with leather wings like the wings of a bat. When I touched him the skin fell from his bones inside he was full of grave worms-"

"A lying tongue with false words may soon find itself removed," The Griffin Knight cut in, halting the witch's scathing tone.

She glared at the knight as she resumed her tangent once more, "I warned you that only death can pay for life. You knew the price."

"Where is Khal Drogo?" Daenerys demanded from the smug woman standing above her. "Show him to me. Show me what I bought with my son's life."

"As you command, lady," Mirri Maz Duur obliged. "Come, I will take you to him."

As Dany attempted to rise from her bedding Jorah placed a hand gently on her shoulder, trying to keep her in place, "Time for that later-"

"I want to see him now!"

The man relented and with the assistance of Ser Connington helped the ill woman to her feet, following close behind as she shakily stepped from the tent. She raised her hand to block the sun's harsh rays as she swept her eyes over the campsite, frowning at the lack of tents and members of the Khalasar.

"The Khalasar is gone," She lightly noted to the air.

Jorah nodded as he walked beside his Khaleesi, "A Khal who cannot ride is no Khal. The Dothraki only follow the strong. I'm sorry, my Princess."

The group was joined by Rakharo and Irri as they walked to the large cliff side the horde had set up camp the day before. Stopping by a form laid against a rock Daenerys frowned as she realized it was her husband's prone form propped up, a vacant look upon his face. She rushed to his side, "Drogo, my sun and stars," she called as she ran her hand across his face. "Why is he out here alone?"

"He seems to like the warmth, Princess."

She placed a soft kiss to his lips and saddened more when he failed to respond, "He lives," The lamb woman spoke up. "You asked for life, you paid for life."

"This is not life," The Targaryen declared. "When will he be as he was?"

The witch smirked, "When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east. When the seas go dry when the mountains blow in the wind like leaves." She proudly stated. She then strode away from the decimated Khaleesi towards the side of the cliff.

Dany rose to follow her, "Leave us." Jon eyed the weak woman, but the sight of fire in her gaze had him nodding and leading the other onlookers away. Once the group started their small trek back to camp she turned back to the witch who had ruined her. "You knew what I was buying and you knew the price."

"It was wrong of them to burn my temple," Mirri Maz absently stated. "It angered the Great Shepard."

"This is not God's work," Daenerys snapped. "My child was innocent."

"Innocent?" The witch scoffed. "He would have been the Stallion who Mounts the World. Now he will burn no cities, his Khalasar will trample no nations into dust."

"I spoke for you," The Valyrian woman recalled. "I saved you."

The witch straightened her back as she stood across from the silver-haired woman, "Saved me? Three of those riders had already raped me before you saved me, girl. I saw my God's house burn there, where I healed men and women beyond counting. In the streets, I saw piles of heads. The head of the baker who makes my bread, the head of a young boy that I had cured of a fever just three moons past. So tell me again exactly what it was that you saved?"

Violet eyes clashed with brown, "Your life."

"Why don't you take a look at your husband. Then you will see exactly what life is worth when all the rest has gone," She spared one more heated glance back at the vegetable like Khal as she stormed away, leaving the Khaleesi alone and broken in the dust.

Dany gazed sorrowfully at Drogo as he remained still and lost to the world around him. She thought of the other woman's words and started to silently cry. Why did she even try to save her? Jorah had advised her to turn a blind eye but she didn't listen to his warnings. Why would the Gods punish her for helping the women who were in danger? Drogo was injured due to her choice, he fell ill because of her, her son died because she tried to save her husband's life, and now he was doomed to a life of endless paralysis.

"I am sorry Daenerys," Ser Connington's voice cut into her thoughts. "You should not have suffered as you have."

"Can you bring him back to our tent?" She quietly asked.

The Griffin knight nodded his head, "Of course, my Princess."

The tired woman sighed and started to make her way back towards the camp, noticing the odd and concerned looks from the Khalasar members who remained as she slipped into the tent. A few minutes later some of the male slaves gently carried Khal Drogo back into the shaded cover and placed him at the feet of his wife. Dany waved the men off as she kept her gaze focused on her husband. She knelt by his side and ran her hand over his cheek, searching for any sort of response from him.

"Do you remember our first ride, my sun and stars?" She whispered. "If you are in there, if you haven't gone away, show me." Purple eyes scanned over Drogo's still form, "You're a fighter. You've always been a fighter. I need you to fight now," Daenerys leaned closer and rested her forehead against her husband's. "I know you're very far away, but come back to me, my sun and stars."

But only silence remained in the air.

The Targaryen princess pulled away from the catatonic man as the quietness stabbed her heart. She turned away from his vacant gaze and glanced at the pile of pillows by the bedside. She knew in her soul her husband was gone, and he would never be able to return. Tears built in her eyes as she laid her head on her lover's chest.

"When the sun rises in the west...and sets in the east," She stumbled as she held back her sobs. "Then you shall return to me, my sun and stars."

Daenerys sat up slowly and placed a gentle kiss upon Drogo's cold lips. The Khaleesi kept her amethyst orbs locked on her husband's vacant face as she pulled a pillow over him, pressing down as his body jolted slightly from the lack of airflow to his lungs. Tears dripped off her cheeks as the last remnants of life faded from the Khal's body, and the dragon had never felt more alone in her whole life. The woman flinched as a hand gently fell on her shaking shoulder and she cried harder as Ser Connington pulled her small form into his. The man ran his hands down her back as her strong front fully crumbled and her mournful cries echoed in the air.

The knight and princess sat together as the sun set, ignoring as Ser Jorah arrived at the scene. The bear knight left the pair alone as he ordered for a funeral pyre to be built as quickly as possible. Daenerys finally pulled away from her loyal protector when a group of men entered to carry their dead Khal's body out to the wooden resting place. She waited until they had carried Drogo's body off and Jon had stepped outside before she ripped her ragged riding clothes from her body. After a quick look at her reflection, the Targaryen dried her eyes and readied herself to give her husband a final farewell. As the widow walked from the large tent Ser Connington noted the pure white dress she wore on her wedding day and the small purple dragon egg nestled in her arms.

The ginger man followed the princess like a shadow through the crowd as she approached the pyre and handed the egg to Rakharo, "Is this your command, Khaleesi?"

Daenerys nodded and the bloodrider carried the valuable treasure to his dead Khal's body, "Drogo will have no use for a dragon egg in the Nightlands," Jorah said as he glanced down at the silver-haired woman. "Sell it. You can return to the Free Cities and live as a wealthy woman for all your days."

"It was not given to me to sell," She shot towards the Northern knight.

"Khaleesi, my Queen," The older man knelt to the ground next to the female dragon. "I vow to serve you, obey you, to die for you if it need be. But let him go."

"It takes more than a few hours to mourn the loss of love," Ser Connington hissed at the bear.

"Khaleesi," Jorah ignored the griffin. "I know what you intend. Do not."

"You know nothing of what I am thinking or feeling, Ser Jorah," Daenerys pointed out. "You don't understand."

"I will not stand by as you lay yourself on that pyre. I won't watch you burn."

The princess brushed off the man's worries as she faced the gathered crowd in front of the funeral, "You will be my Khalasar. I see the faces of slaves, I free you. Take off your collars, go if you wish. No one will stop you. But if you stay it will be as brothers and sisters, husbands and wives," She paused as some of the crowd left at her words of liberation, waiting until the people settled before she began again. Mirri Maz Duur chuckled as she watched the crowd thin and Daenerys scowled at the bound woman. "Ser Connington, tie this woman to the pyre."

The ginger man nodded as he grasped the witch tightly by her arm and dragged her to the piles of wood, tying her hands together against one of the stakes.

The princess waited until her sworn sword returned to her side before she continued, "I am Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, of the blood of Old Valyria. I am the Dragon's daughter and I swear to you that those who would harm you will die screaming."

"You will not hear me scream," Mirri Maz declared.

"I will," The silver-haired woman promised. "But it is not your screams I want. Only your life."

Dany grasped onto the torch in Rakharo's hand, walking up towards the wood and tossing it onto the pyre. The crowd watched as the fire slowly ate at the dry wood until it reached the center of the pyre where Drogo's body and Mirri Maz Duur were. The fire licked at the feet of the woman and she cringed and twisted in agony as the heat increased around her body. The small Khalasar watched as the fire grew and the woman attached to the pyre started to scream in pain. Jon frowned as he watched Daenerys gaze at the roaring flames longingly before she started to walk towards the fire, fixated on a slight movement near the Khal's body. The knight jumped forward, gripped her hand, and pulled her back.

"Daenerys, it will burn you," Jon whispered in her ear. "Wait, please."

The princess sighed, "Is it wrong to want to join him?"

"I sometimes wish I joined Rhaella when she passed," The older man quietly admitted. "But then I think of how I would miss you. How even though I still miss her to this day, I am enjoying life. I found purpose through my pain."

"I miss my mother," The woman whimpered. "I miss my husband...I miss my son."

The man nodded as he loosened his grip on the highborn lady, "Loss is part of life. We cannot truly enjoy what we are given if we never feel true sorrow."

The two stood together the rest of the night as the fire raged on, ignoring the rest of the crowd as it slowly dispersed. Neither the princess nor the knight moved an inch until the soft rays of sunrise touched upon their faces. Dany gave Ser Connington a small smile of thanks as she glanced between him and the ashes of her love and the wretched woman who slew him. Purple eyes paused as they scanned the pile of burnt debris when a pile of soot near the center started to shiver and shake. The Targaryen rushed forward through the broken pieces of wood, cringing as the dying embers licked at her feet and legs. She dug through the large pile until another set of hands joined her and the pair continued to toss away the ash until they caught sight of scales reflecting the faint sunlight.

A small lilac dragon hatchling chirped and cried at Ser Connington and Daenerys as they looked down on it in shock. The small reptile clumsily crawled onto the princess and nestled into her open arms much like a newborn babe.

"By the Gods…"

Dany beamed at the infant sleeping in her arms, missing the Khalasar arriving at the scene and gasping at the beast resting in their Khaleesi's arms. The griffin knight knelt by the Targaryen's side as the rest of the onlookers followed his lead, bowing to their powerful leader. The silver Princess pried her gaze away from her child to her loyal followers below her and nodded their way.

The dragon hatchling grumbled and screeched as the sun rose higher through the sky, its defiant cries echoing in the new day.