She shivered in her sleep. Daenerys lay still for three moons and a sunrise before she ever made a motion to stir, although it seemed far longer. Her dreams were ridden with long-lost memories of a life she had once known. There she stood, before a house with a red door, with Viserys standing there, a hand outstretched. It was his first face, the one he had before Drogo crowned him. He bore no burn marks in this illusion, his skin was supple, pale and smooth, and his vibrant violet eyes flickered in the sunlight. Or was it moonlight? She could not tell. The dream held a mist over her eyes, and a celestial light hung low all around her. The wind rustled his silver hair gently from side to side, but he seemed distant. She tried to take a step closer towards him, but when she tried, she found her legs were frozen in place.

Viserys began whispering something. He lips moved to quickly and quietly for Daenerys to be able to understand him, even so, she could make out that he was repeating something. Dany strained her ears, edging her head as close to him as she could manage, but all the effort wielded was silence. The mist began to move faster, getting thicker and darker, enveloping her, swallowing her whole. It continued to spread everywhere, covering her face, slipping into every hole in her body. Abruptly, it picked up speed and the great cloud whirled through her, it felt, and soon enough, Viserys was out of sight.

All of a sudden she lost the ability to breath. Owing to the fact that she was inside her subconscious, Dany found no consolation in the fact that her loss of wind was merely a figment of her wild imagination. She began viciously coughing and heaving, but the cloud did not recede. In fact, it whispered to her. Softly at first, a gentle humming of numerous voices, overlapping each other so she could not understand a word of it. The voices began to incline in volume, becoming rapid and incessant, spiraling towards her. The voices were stern, echoing through the cloud, hitting her with noise. She tried to focus on a single sound, but it was futile. Her breathlessness had crippled her, but she could not fall. The wind carried her through the grey mist, flinging her from the edge of limbo to infinity as if she weighed nothing at all. After drifting for a while she caught the voice of Ser Jorah, his thundering bellows flowing past her. Dany made out the words "Can you wake the dead girl?" and "The last dragon", along with "I have loved you, Khaleesi". That last word lingered in her ear, until the mist flung her upwards once more in a violent outburst and then dropped her on the cold hard ground directly on her face.

Dany gathered her breath, taking sharp, short gasps of air to gather herself. She stood and observed where she had been taken. It took a while to recognise the place. The land was red and dead and parched, the steaming, coarse remains of burnt grass scratched the soles of her feet, and a thick layer of ash covered her from head to toe. She was naked, lying in a pile of smoking logs, with a dying fire flickering in the distance, though the flame was weak, lacking sufficient heat. She watched it die from where she lay. Dany heard a cry, like that of a small child, though it somehow lacked a certain softness. Her head turned slowly to see an infant Drogon screeching at her. Two other beasts made the brief climb over a particularly burly log to reach her, and when they did, they leapt onto her belly and cooed at her. I know where I am. At first she did not realise, but slowly she recognised the broken pillars of Drogo's funeral pyre scattered across the landscape.

She had gone back in time to the scene of her dragon's births. The place where she had become the Mother of Dragons. Fire made flesh. Slowly she stood, though her aching limbs protested. There stood Viserys again, wearing his crown of molten gold. He smiled, and spread his arms in an open gesture, as if to embrace her. Dany whimpered and tried to back away, but her dragons clung to her feverishly, their claws digging into her skin. The black beast gave a cry, and promptly flew into Viserys' face. With a quick swipe of his hand, he lashed out at Drogon and grabbed him by the neck. Dany tripped over a log backwards onto her behind. Her brother chuckled softly.

"Now I may look down on you sweet sister," he said. "And deliver you to your rightful execution." He made a motion to kick her, but she caught his leg and pushed him back. His molten crown appeared to weigh him down, as he did not move his neck as quickly as he had in his youth. She tried to cry out when he attempted to hit her again, but he held her down. Drogon struggled in his hand, but Viserys twisted him all the harder. He began to laugh hysterically, a thin high chortle, all the while kicking his sister. The crown he wore had seeped into his eyeball, crystallizing it, giving it a unique glisten. She screamed and screamed, trying to reach her fragile children, but he overpowered them all.

"The dragon!" he exclaimed. "You've woken the dragon, you little slut!" To prove his point, he grabbed Dany's face, his nails digging into her chin, and shrieked and shrieked and shrieked. "THE DRAGON! I AM THE DRAGON! I AM YOUR KING! THE ONE TRUE KING!" Her dragons gave a desperate cry in unison, and suddenly they morphed into their adult selves. Viserys gave a singular gasp, just like the one he gave when he had been crowned, and her children set her brother on fire. Wisps of heavy smoke poured from his skin. Dany tried to turn away and run, but without warning, her dragons turned on her and released their flames. Before the heat could reach her, she blinked, and found herself in a Dothraki tent, her sun-and-stars lying on the mats staring up at her.

"Oh…" she began to say, but she was swiftly swept up in her husband's arms before she could utter another word. He lifted her face so her eyes met his gaze, and pulled her closer so he could taste the sweetness on her tongue. The kiss was long and luxurious, until Khal Drogo bit into her lip with such a fierceness that when she pulled away the skin on her mouth ripped and she began to bleed. Her husband was angered at this insolence, and made a grab for her hair, attempting to pull her close once again. She protested, and he slapped her. Dany was not surprised when her husband's face turned hideous, and morphed into her brother's once again.

He was still whispering, like he had at the little house with the red door. His breaths were harsh and stern, and she heard his words only once before Daenerys awoke from her slumber.

"Now's the time." he had said.

When her eyes etched open, she saw a woman she did not recognize standing above her. The lady seemed in shock when Dany met her gaze, and began to yelp. She dropped the bundle of sheets she had been holding, and knocked over a glass of tea that had been placed on a bedside table in her hysteria, scrambling out of the room, yelling to no one in particular, "She's awake! She's awake!"

Dany did not know why she was in such a state. She had only been resting after a tiring day. Drogon was waiting for her, she needed to get to him. She wanted to crawl out of bed and find him, but before she could find the strength to heave herself from the silk sheets that bound her, an old man wearing a metal dress held her down. His hands were gentle, but firm. Her hands were feeble and weak against him, beating softly on his chest. She whimpered in her frustration, moaning, "No, please," over and over again till her voice was a broken croak and her throat was raw. All the while the old man kept hushing her, but Dany would not listen, she could not listen, she needed her children, it was all she had left now, her baby dragons wanted her, they would not survive without her….

A violent wave of panic went through her, and she cried out in frustration. The woman with the sheets stepped forward to calm her, but Dany could not relax. There was a deep sense of dread inside her, her heart had dropped like a stone, she had to leave, she had to go, but they would not let her. How could they know what she needed? How could they help her if she was not permitted to move? The old man, sensing her panic, ceased to restrain her. Not a second had passed before the lady with the sheets was in her face, speaking to her softly. Dany tried to concentrate on the woman's features. Her skin was copper, her eyes hazel, and her hair was a huge black bush of curls. She was thin and bony, and she kept calling her a strange word.

Khaleesi. Khaleesi, be still. She had never heard that word before. It seemed foreign to her. She didn't like it. The old man and the thin lady began to argue with each other. The lady kept calling the man Barristan, and Ser. They seemed familiar somehow, but she could not comprehend the words, they all jumbled up in her mind. Dany didn't want to listen to their bickering. She wanted to be alone, and sleep. She croaked an order, and they promptly obeyed, scuttling out in single file, still arguing.

After staring up at the wall for a few minutes, Daenerys leant her entire body weight on one arm and lifted her head to observe her surroundings. She was in a large chamber. All the silks, cottons, and curtains were richly embroidered, the tables had strange animals carved into the woodwork, and the floor, walls, and ceiling all had a marble polish. But she did not recognize this place. She did not recognize those people, or the name they had called her. The only thing she knew was her dragons. And….him. He wanted to be alone with her, so he told her to send everyone away.

He had been residing in the corner of the room, by the balcony. He seemed to prefer it there. After being separate from the realm of living men for such a time, the warmth of the sun on his back was more than welcome. The rays of light glistened on his face where the crown was, and he was constantly scratching his ear, as some of the liquid had seeped inside it when he had been crowned. His head turned robotically towards her in one swift motion, and he marched towards her. When he reached her, he caressed her forehead, as he had often done in his lifetime when they were together all those years.

"Ready?" he asked her, though it seemed more like a command than an offer. She nodded her answer, anxious and shivering.

Daenerys blinked back her tears.