A Feast For Dragons

Daenerys

Fear naught the night, She remembered Viserys say, for we are the blood of the dragon, and in time we will spread our great wings and fly. And Daenerys did not fear-not anymore.

She laid on the back of her winged beast as it took wind under it's belly; a belly like a furnace that burned hotter than the sun. He flew low, she noted, low to the salt sea. Her children played, singing loudly for all the stars in the blackened sky. And when she stretched out her arm and spread her fingers, she had the ocean waves at her fingertips.

Daenerys began to wonder what had become of her friends; of the Imp and of her advisor, and of Daario Naharis. Westeros was a massive and foreign country, one she was forced to wander alone without the company of her Queens guard and 8,000 Unsullied. Daenarys was in the company of her children now, and they took refuge in the mountains by the coast of Bear Island. Never again will she doubt them or chain them. Daario Naharis couldn't have made the notion clearer, who was 'The Mother of Dragons' without any dragons?

Viserys believed he would raise high above the rest and sit on the Iron Throne. He had sold her to Khal Drogo for an army of Dothraki screamers and would have thrown her to the rapers and murderous men if presented with more men for his envisioned army. Viserys fought to sit on a Throne of Lies just to watch the city burn to ash beneath his fist. His death was a gift of mercy to all.

Daenerys was not afraid to fly, she did not fear the ground being so far beneath her. Occasionally she would catch herself drifting off into a dream where she would soar high above the great grass sea, the wind blowing through her long silver hair, bathing in the light of the sun. Viserys had once warned her never to have these dreams. You'll wake the dragon, he would warn, You don't want to wake the dragon. Now the dragons have awaken within her, and even in death Viserys will feel her wrath.