Daenerys sat quietly, listening to Crowe proclaim ranks-she was to be a sigma, provided her desirability was, she guessed, average. Daenerys was not one for long-winded speeches, so she zoned out and in.
When the male named Narcissus waltzed in, Daenerys’ eyes narrowed at his arrogance and swagger. The way he pressed in to the newcoming mother, the way he spoke about himself. Arrogance disgusted Daenerys; there was no room for it in the world. It was what had killed Viserys, for his fault was that he was an arrogant man.
She glanced around, noting Narcissus, Crowe, the newcomer, Evergreen, and Uzi. Amaya was for now a small pack. However, she knew it would grow. Packs had a way of doing so.
Daenerys watched, anticipating Crowe’s and the woman’s reactions. If she was that girl, she would have raked her claws across his face and set fire to the grass around him just to make a point.

“Fire cannot kill a dragon.”