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“no ruler can make a people good,” selmy had told her. “baelor the blessed prayed and built the seven as splendid a temple as any gods could wish for, yet he could not put an end to war and want.” a queen must listen to her people, dany reminded herself.
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when she saw the usurper’s rebel host across the river they were armoured all in ice, but she bathed them in dragonfire and they melted away like dew and turned the trident into a torrent.
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"do all the yunkai'i whine so over a singed tokar? i shall buy you a new one, if you deliver up your slaves within three days. elsewise, drogon shall give you a warmer kiss."
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“so am i a coin in the hands of some god, is that what you are saying, ser?”
“no,” ser barristan replied. “you are the trueborn heir of westeros. to the end of my days i shall remain your faithful knight, should you find me worthy to bear a sword again.”
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daenerys targaryen and drogon drawn by comic book illustrator, @PepeLarraz.
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"be careful with that word, ser, or they're like to singe your beard off. it means 'dragonfire' in high valyrian. i wanted to choose a command that no one was like to utter by chance."
dracarys.
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drogon looped his neck around to nip at her hand. his teeth were very sharp, but he never broke her skin when they played like this. dany laughed, and rolled him back and forth until he roared, his tail lashing like a whip.
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this time the monsters did not frighten her. they seemed almost old friends. arya held the candle over her head. with each step she took, the shadows moved against the walls, as if they were turning to watch her pass. "dragons," she whispered.
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my new men do not believe that you are real. the ones who came over from the windblown. bred and born in westeros, most of them, full of tales about targaryens. they want to see one with their own eyes.
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"there is more rhaegar in you, i think, but even rhaegar could be slain (...) even dragons can die."
"dragons die." she stood on her toes to kiss him lightly on an unshaven cheek. "but so do dragonslayers."
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