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"i was alone for a long time, jorah. all alone but for my brother. i was such a small scared thing. viserys should have protected me, but instead he hurt me and scared me worse. he shouldn't have done that."
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“daenerys is quite different... this dragon queen who wears her name is a true targaryen.
when i sent ships to bring her home she turned to slaver’s bay. in a short span of days she conquered astapor, made yunkai bend the knee, and sacked meereen.”
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dany seated herself on a mound of cushions to await them, her dragons all about her. when they were assembled, she said, “an hour past midnight should be time enough.”
“yes, khaleesi,” said rakharo. “time for what?”
“to mount our attack.”
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"there are no slaves to be had in meereen, no profit to be found there. the silver queen has put an end to that."
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"he would make a monster of me," she whispered, "a butcher queen." but then she thought of drogon far away, and the dragons in the pit. there is blood on my hands too, and on my heart. we are not so different, daario and i. we are both monsters.
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"a dragon's heart burns fiercely, even in the face of evil."
—s.g. rogers
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the dragons were no larger than the scrawny cats she had once seen skulking along the walls of magister illyrio’s estate in pentos... until they unfolded their wings. their span was three times their length, each wing a delicate fan, gorgeously coloured.
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the ghost chorus yammered inside her skull with never a lip moving, never a breath stirring the still blue air... mother of dragons... child of storm... the whispers became a swirling song.
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and for the first time in hundreds of years, the night came alive with the music of dragons.
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"you will not hear me scream," mirri responded as the oil dripped from her hair and soaked her clothing.
"i will," dany said, "but it is not your screams i want, only your life. i remember what you told me. only death can pay for life."
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