Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire or Game of Thrones. Everything here belongs to George R.R Martin.

Chapter XVII - The Witch in Lhazar

Daeron POV

I was mad at Daenerys for not listening to me. At first, Drogo listened to my advice and did not let Mirri Maz Duur put the ointment on his wound. He was fine, stating he wanted the scar, prove and show his men what happens to those who defy him. Only for Daenerys to secretly put ointments on Drogo during his sleep. The Great Khal sighed, willing to let his wife treat him. But lately, on our travels, he has become unwell.

At first, he seemed to have a cold, but then he shrugged it off saying winds were changing. It wasn't long that the Khalasar made haste towards the south. I rode beside Daenerys, though we did not talk as usual and neither did Ser Jorah. Like Ser Jorah, he believed that Daenerys is making a terrible mistake.

It was a long journey, entering a desert land. The weather was dry, small winds were blowing. The sky is partly cloudy, which shelters us from the blazing sun. Up ahead was Drogo leading the Khalasar. It has been three weeks since his duel with Mago. His condition worsens, for he shudders from the cold wrapping a blanket over him. Later, he was slouching.

"My lord…My sun and stars…" Daenerys called out. "Drogo."

Suddenly Drogo fell off his horse. Daenerys and I immediately unmounted and rushed to his side. Not a second longer the bloodriders were there. I knew what it meant, if a Khal fall off his horse...

"Sajo anni. My horse…" Drogo muttered.

"Blood of my blood…" Cohollo said, taking Drogo's hand

"No, I must ride," Drogo mumbled. I ripped the bandages from Drogo to get a better look of the wound. The cut, once nicely stitched now open and festered. There was a foul stench and the wound turned black. I knew it, the ointment was poisoned.

"He fell from his horse," Qotho announced. "A Khal who cannot ride is no Khal."

"He's tired, that's all. He needs to rest," Daenerys reasoned, though I think she is trying to assure herself. "We've ridden far enough for today. We'll camp here."

"This is no place to camp," Qotho countered. He was right, there was no grass for the horses or water for the Khalasar. Supposedly, there is a lake on the other side of this vast land. It appears a few miles, but Ser Jorah warned in Lhazar more mirages will trick the mind about distance. Qotho continued, "A woman does not give us orders, not even a Khaleesi."

"We'll camp here. Tell them Khal Drogo commanded it," Daenerys calmly said.

"You do not command me Khaleesi," Qotho said

"She is the Khaleesi who carried the Stallion that will mount the world as decreed by the Dosh Khaleen," I challenged. Qotho scowled but knew it was rude to disregard the Dosh Khaleen.

"Find Mirri Maz Duur. Bring her to me," Daenerys commanded.

"The Witch? I bring you her head, Khaleesi," Qotho offered.

"Yes, do that." I said immediately.

"No. Bring her to me unharmed, or Khal Drogo will hear why you defied me," Daenerys warned. Qotho glared at her before leaving to find that witch.

oOoOo

Immediately camp was assembled as Drogo with the assistance of Cohollo and Haggo into the tent to protect their Khal's honor. Daenerys, Irri and Doreah tried to keep Drogo comfortable. While Daenerys wiped the sweat off her husband's face and took some fresh rags and water from her water skin to cleanse the wound. To remove what remains of the poison paste as possible. I didn't bother saying "I told you so," because I'm not cruel. I prayed to the Lord of Light that he may lend his fire to Khal Drogo, so that Drogo may live.

"Doth – Dothrae…" Drogo mumbled in his fever. "ki ha – hammi…ish nokitta… qana'th.."

Daenerys sighed, cradling his cheek.

"Khaleesi," Ser Jorah announced entering the tent.

Daenerys wiped her tears away, "Come."

Ser Jorah walked in seeing the terrible state Drogo was in.

"He's very strong," Daenerys said, still in denial. "No one understands how strong he is."

Ser Jorah sat down next to Daenerys, placing a hand to lift the poultice to expose the deadly infection. He kept a neutral expression, but his eyes said it all. Drogo was a dead man. I was unable to say the words, yet he kindly did.

"He will die tonight, Khaleesi," Ser Jorah declared.

"He can't," Daenerys refused to believe, staring at her husband. "I won't let him."

"Even a King doesn't have that power," Ser Jorah said, getting up. "We must go quickly. I've heard there's a good port in Asshai—"

"I won't leave him," She interrupted.

"Daenerys, he's dying." I tried to reason.

"Even if –" She started, holding a sob. "—even if he dies, why would I run? I am Khaleesi, and my son – my son will be Khal after Drogo."

"This isn't Westeros where men honor blood. Here they only honor strength. There will be fighting after Drogo dies." Ser Jorah explained. "Whoever wins that fight will be the new Khal. He won't want any rivals. Your boy will be plucked from your breast and given to the dogs."

"I won't leave him," Daenerys said. Mirri Maz entered the tent along with Qotho. The bloodrider expressed sorrow for his leader, until masking it. The good wife came over removing the poultice.

"The wound has festered," Mirri Maz declared.

"You did this witch," Qotho accused, drawing his dagger, I drew my sword too.

"Stop it!" Daenerys ordered. "I don't want her to get hurt."

"No! No! You don't want her hurt?" Qotho corrected. "Pray we don't hurt you, too. You let this witch put her hands on our Khal." Then kicked the god's wife.

"Rein in your tongue. She is still your Khaleesi," Ser Jorah warned.

"Only while the blood of my blood lives!" Qotho yelled, then took a deep breath. "When he dies, she is nothing."

Daenerys scowled as she stood up struggling with her bump, "I have never been nothing. I am the blood of the dragon."

"The dragons are all dead, Khaleesi," Qotho taunted, then left. I took a deep breath considering his taunt as a threat.

Ser Jorah and I shared a look, both of us understood that we have to leave immediately once Khal Drogo dies. I look at Daenerys, no. She will not go to the Dosh Khaleen. I rushed to my tent getting my armor vest on, and a satchel filled with the necessities. The Targaryen sword, strapped to my waist, before returning to the Khal's tent. I swore to protect Daenerys after loosing everyone else. Now I must do it again. Just as I entered, I saw a smirk on Mirri Maz's face. She intended Drogo's death. So, when Daenerys went to get more fresh water with Doreah, I looked at the witch.

"Do you know of my family?" I asked her.

"You are of old Valyria, land of the dragons," Mirri Maz answered.

"But you do you know who my family are?" I asked again, my purple eyes filled with anger.

"I do not," Mirri Maz confessed.

My purple eyes glaring into her eyes, I willed every effort not to hurt her, because I do not hurt woman, "I come from a line of dragon riders. We are Targaryens, and our family words is 'Fire and Blood.' You know what my grandfather does to people who harm him? He burns them. If Drogo dies both body and spirit, so shall you. It is not Qotho you should be afraid of. It is Daenerys and I, and we will keep that promise of your death. Do you understand? Do harm to my family, and I'll make you suffer."

Her dark eyes widened, grasping the fact I meant it. All she could do was nod. I spat at her and sat across from her with my hand over the pommel. Watching every move, she made in curing Drogo. The Great Khal broke tradition for us after our uncle Viserys died. He could have tossed me out of Vaes Dothrak and his khalasar or even enslaved me. Instead, he welcomed me as a member of his Khalasar and offered protection that no one could harm me. This is a debt that cannot be easily repaid. Daenerys soon returned.

"He's beyond the healer's skills," Mirri Maz announced. "All I can do is ease his path."

"Save him, and I will free you. I swear it," Daenerys promised. "You must know a way…some…some magic."

Mirri Maz stopped what she was doing and looked at her, "There is a spell. Some would say death is cleaner."

Daenerys frowned as she cradled Drogo's cheek. "Do it. Save him."

"There is a price," she warned.

"You'll have gold...whatever you want," Daenerys offered.

"It's not a matter of gold. This is blood magic," She warned again. "Only death pays for life."

"Daenerys, no," I told her.

However, she did not listen, "My death?"

"No!" I yelled at that but Daenerys didn't look at me.

"No. Not your death, Khaleesi," the witch said, then thought of something.

"Bring me his horse." Daenerys nodded to Doreah to do so.

I grabbed Daenerys pulling her away, "Dany, please listen to me. She is the cause of Drogo's death. Don't fall for her tricks."

"I can't lose him, Daeron. I love him, he is my sun and stars," she cried.

"Drogo wouldn't want this. He would want you to live and continue his promise for his child." I tried to reason. "Your child is possibly the heir and you could raise him to be strong, we need to gather more forces. If the Iron Throne is what you want for us, you must let go of Drogo"

Unfortunately, Daenerys shoved me away. I know nothing about witchcraft but I know they are dangerous. When they brought Drogo's horse, the animal was resisting. It too can sense evil, trying to escape. Cohollo and Haggo held the reins tightly, bringing the black stallion over till its neck floated over Khal Drogo's body. Sparks from the fire pit erupted as Mirri Maz Duur drew a bronze dagger. Rakharo pushed Daenerys away from the frightened horse.

"Khaleesi, do not do this thing." Rakharo pleaded. "Let me kill this witch."

"Kill her, and you kill your Khal," Daenerys growled.

"This is blood magic. It is forbidden," Rakharo tried to explain.

"I am your Khaleesi. I tell you what is forbidden," Daenerys said Mirri Maz Duur cut her thumb and pressed the blood on her forehead. She started incanting in a different tongue. She walked around the horse. Taking hold of the reins, soothing the animal. She turned to us. "Go now."

"Take her and leave," Daenerys said, referring to Irri.

Rakharo refused as she ordered, "Take her!"

Unable to refuse his Khaleesi, Rakharo escorted Irri out.

"You must also go, lady," the witch said. "Once I begin to sing, no one must enter the tent. The dead will dance here tonight."

Daenerys looked at Drogo who lied unconsciously unaware of what was happening. Daenerys cradled his cheek and looked at the witch, "No one will enter. Go, Daeron."

"Daenerys," I pleaded.

"Go!" she yelled. Let her understand the consequences, A voice whispered. Taking a deep breath, I left the tent not wanting to associate myself with blood magic. The moment I was three feet out, the horse wailed in pain. Singing followed as Daenerys came out face covered in blood. Shock written on her face. The Dothraki gasped in horror, not understanding what was going on. At the tent, the singing grew louder. Ser Jorah, dressed in armor, walked over to Daenerys.

"I have to save him," she panted, wobbling on her feet.

Ser Jorah and I caught her, "We could have been ten miles away from here by now on the way to Asshai. You both would have been safe."

Daenerys groaned as we took her to sit on something. Out of nowhere, there was a demonic shriek. The wind stops, the heat of the sun vanishes. All the horses and animals grew quiet. The camp was engrossed with silence. Engulfed in fear. The first person to speak was Qotho, marching in with his arakh in hand.

"This must not be. This must not be," Qotho demanded.

"This must be," Daenerys painted.

"Witch!" Qotho accused.

Rakharo tried to explain something, resting on the bloodrider's shoulder. Only to receive an elbow to the face knocking him down.

Qotho started walking towards the test, but Daenerys stepped forward, "No, you can't!"

The bloodrider roughly shoved Daenerys to the ground causing her to land on her belly. I gasped, rushing over, turning her to the side. Not caring what is happening in the tent, but Daenerys' physical wellbeing. The impact of the fall could cause severe damage to the womb. The only person who dared challenge him was Ser Jorah, drawing his sword, "No further, horselord."

Qotho stopped at the entrance glaring at Ser Jorah. The knight and Qotho fought with Jorah winning but with a cut on his cheek. Daenerys then cried, in pain. Checking her condition, seeing a puddle forming. I remember seeing my previous' host's wife had the same thing. Ser Jorah sheathed his sword and came over.

"Is she hurt?" Ser Jorah asked.

"Of course," I said annoyed. "Help me get her to my tent."

"Hmm?" he replied, shocked , then looking at Irri. "Fetch the midwives."

"They will not come," Rakharo said, helping in picking Daenerys up. "They say she is cursed."

"They'll come, or I'll make sure they join the witch," I threaten. I lifted Daenerys up and carried her into my tent, setting her on the makeshift cot. Jhiqui and Doreah went to fetch fresh water and linens. Irri ripped the bottom of Daenerys' dress to see how far along she was.

"Do you know what you are doing?" Ser Jorah asked, turning away to give Daenerys decency.

"No!" Irri answered. "I must try to save her and the baby."

I nodded, but deep down I knew there were four options. I either save them both, save the child or the mother, or both shall die. Daenerys cried out in pain, as did Irri who had enough courage to help the Khaleesi. Jhiqui and Doreah lend their support in delivering the child. It was tedious, a struggle since Daenerys was pushing when she shouldn't. My mother had problems giving birth to children despite giving birth to four. My mother was bedridden for a year after giving birth to Rhaenys and I, then to Aegon and finally to Daenerys. Only to die a few days after Daenerys' birth. I hope Daenerys didn't inherit our mother's bedridden sickness.

Irri suddenly stopped but continue to pull the child out of Daenerys' womanhood. Suddenly, Irri took out a child. I looked down examining the child on Irri's arms. The child was red, covered in fluid and blood. Dark curls on the top of his head. But something was wrong, wiping the blood away seeing scales on his body.

"Holy Rh'llor." I said as my eyes widened. Daenerys' handmaidens gasped.

"Come on, Rhaego," I said, as Irri spank to wake him. Still, the little one did not cry.

"Died in the womb," Irri whispered, as she handed a small blanket. Holding back angry tears, I accepted that my nephew was a stillborn. The eldest grandchild of Prince Rhaegar and Princess Elia died by the witch's spell and Qotho solidified his death. I wrapped him up carefully as the midwife cut his umbilical cord. The handmaiden took a needle and thread to stitch up the tearing. Once that was done, she left along with the handmaidens to retrieve fresh supplies. Daenerys laid in bed unconscious, the pain from the delivery and Rhaego's wings caused damage. There was nothing I could do.

"Your Grace?" Ser Jorah called out.

"Enter," I whispered. Ser Jorah entered, seeing the blood everywhere and Daenerys asleep. He looked at me sitting on the ground with the swaddled child.

"The baby?" he asked.

I shook my head, "Stillborn."

He sighed, as he knelt down about to take Rhaego out of my hands, but I stopped him. No, he will not be tossed and fed to the hounds. Daenerys and I are not Dothraki by birth. We were Westerosi, Valyrians, we cremate stillborn. Not feed them to the animals. Also, I did not want him to see Rhaego's dragon traits.

"She cursed him," I said angrily, feeling the Targaryen and Dornish anger coming.

"What?" Ser Jorah asked.

"Mirri Maz Duur cursed the child." I answered. "Once the witch is done, we take her and tie her up. When Daenerys wakes, the witch will die for what she has done. The witch will burn."

"Daeron," Ser Jorah said, resting his hand on my shoulder. "If Daenerys doesn't wake, you need to leave, for your own safety."

"If she doesn't wake, then I die with her." I said.