[ Dany mislikes the sound of the pops, but she doesn't flinch. Why must men willingly hurt themselves like that? ]

No. [ She gestures to him to walk with her, and starts in the direction he was initially moving. ] It is only a storm, and a sea. Why should I be afraid of that? [ She has to raise her voice to be heard as the wind chooses that moment to pick up, lashing rain against their cheeks. She'd always known the circumstances of her birth. A great storm had struck the Crownlands, the worst in Westerosi history, it was claimed. Gargoyles had been ripped from the walls of Dragonstone and cast to the waters below, smashing her father's fleet.

No storm, not even one with giant crabs, will ever frighten Dany.

There comes a great crack, and now she sees what he saw, the wall breaking further under the weight of the swelling waters. ] You are well-met, Ban. [ She points ahead of them, in the direction of the wall, where the waters will meet the shore. ] Shall we go to meet the tide, there?

[ Drogon's tail curls about her neck, the bony scarlet ridges leaving imprints as the dragon rests from the pull of the wind. ]