Daenerys’ eyes widened at Ghost’s next words. “Jaime Lannister, the one who killed your father, I’ve had his scent since I arrived here.” Daenerys’ eyes narrowed, thinking of ripping his throat out like he had done to her father. Aerys wasn’t much, but he was a father and a husband, a son and a king. “The others . . . I heard Joffrey call for an audience, he’s taking up a throne at another pack. Cersei’s boy.”
“The Usurper’s wife?” she breathed.
“If you’re as angered about this as I am, perhaps we can do something about it. But we’ll need to find soldiers.”
“We will take what is ours with fire and blood, we will burn their hopes to ash,” Dany hissed, spreading her wings. “Where are they? And who is with them? To find fighters, we will need to know.” She cast her gaze down to the dead animal. Thinking hard, she murmured, “Other Dracarae would be good, and we could probably find some other fighters. But your sister is still in a forced marriage with Joffrey, is she not, Ghost of House Stark?” She didn’t want to harm Ghost’s innocent sister, no doubt a kind girl.

“Fire cannot kill a dragon.”