The black dragoness, daughter of Aerys and Rhaella, had finally found her peace. Her father’s murderer was dead at her doing. The immediate family of the Usurper had been executed, too. Daenerys sat and listened to the waterfall. She breathed in a contented sigh.
So. She would not have a crown. But that was perhaps okay. Balerion would be a strong ruler, and his queen too. Dany personally didn’t think she would have been able to do any better than they most certainly would; and besides, Balerion would fight like hell to keep Drekistone alive.
Then, there was the matter of Ghost and herself. She wanted children. The fearsome Targaryen Dracarae hadn’t dared to believe she would ever be a mother . . . but they could at least try. Provided, of course, it was what Ghost wanted too. Before she could change her mind she tipped back her head in a howl.

“Fire cannot kill a dragon.”