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when she was dressed, missandei brought her a polished silver glass so she could see how she looked. dany stared at herself in silence. is this the face of a conqueror? so far as she could tell, she still looked like a little girl.
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on the morning of the third day, the city gates swung open and a line of slaves began to emerge. dany mounted her silver to greet them. as they passed, little missandei told them that they owed their freedom to daenerys stormborn.
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and so they came to see the queen.
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the tales the valyrians told of themselves claimed they were descended from dragons and were kin to the ones they now controlled.
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“and daenerys will give the exiles what bittersteel and the blackfyres never could. she will take them home.”
with fire and sword. it was the kind of homecoming tyrion wished for as well.
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"no children die today in daznak's, as my gentle queen in her wisdom has decreed."
another small victory. perhaps i cannot make my people good, she told herself, but i should at least try to make them a little less bad.
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"your path is dangerous, i will not deny that. but if you blindly trust in every liar and schemer who crosses it, you will end as your brothers did."
his obstinacy made her angry. he treats me like some child.
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"you are my queen, my sword is yours, but do not ask me to stand aside as you climb on drogo's pyre. i will not watch you burn."
"is that what you fear?" dany kissed him lightly on his broad forehead. "i am not such a child as that, sweet ser."
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“when the red star bleeds and the darkness gathers, azor ahai shall be born again amidst smoke and salt to wake dragons out of stone. dragonstone is the place of smoke and salt.”
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