This is not life, for one who was as Drogo was. His life was laughter, and meat roasting over a firepit, and a horse between his legs. His life was an arakh in his hand and his bells ringing in his hair as he rode to meet an enemy. His life was his bloodriders, and me, and the son I was to give him.
Mirri Maz Duur made no reply.
When will he be as he was? Dany demanded.
When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east, said Mirri Maz Duur. "When the seas go dry and mountains blow in the wind like leaves. When your womb quickens again, and you bear a living child. Then he will return, and not before."
Dany gestured at Sir Jorah and the others. "Leave us. I would speak with this maegi alone." Mormont and the Dothraki withdrew. "You knew," Dany said when they were gone. She ached, inside and out, but her fury gave her strength. "You knew what I was buying, and you knew the price, and yet you let me pay it."
It was wrong of them to burn my temple, the heavy, flat-nosed woman said placidly. "That angered the Great Shepherd."
This was no god's work, Dany said coldly. If I look back I am lost. "You cheated me. You murdered my child within me."