[ Yes, Dany thinks, but I will defeat them all the same. Her face is curiously calm, but behind the steel mask she wears lies a queer sort of exultation.
She is a dragon, and dragons do not fear stone men.
Drogon thrashes his tail from side to side, bellowing out another scorching warning. Paying him no heed, the golem howls in rage, the ground reverberating beneath its feet. Dany feels her blood sing to hear the sound, and her ankles lock together between his shoulders. ]
Fly! [ she cries, and Drogon puts forth one leg, then another, his wings rising and falling as he gathers his strength. Now, now, now. And then, with one tremendous push from the ground, his front legs leave the sand, his hindquarters following close behind. They fly almost lazily toward the creature, which reaches out with unwieldy arms to swipe at them--but the dragon banks left, and Dany feels a breeze harmlessly flutter against her cheek in the gesture's wake. Irritated, the giant spins around to find its new quarry gone.
It fails to look up.
Three old syllables fly from her lips, and in an instant, a swirling plume of dark flame lances down through the air, enough to bathe head and shoulders in searing heat. As Drogon sends a curtain of shimmering waves around them, Dany holds her own breath, praying to gods far away as ashes rise into her mouth. Drogon's wings beat once, twice--
CRACK.
It takes some moments, but what once was black is turning orange and glowing, little crevices forming in what was once cool, solid rock. In distress, the creature reaches hands up to clutch its melting head and stumbles, the force of its feet sending a few waves of sand to whip against the tent's entrance. In a moment, Dany will use her newfound status as a target to drive the creature away and toward the water, if it is even able to walk with a damaged head. ]
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She is a dragon, and dragons do not fear stone men.
Drogon thrashes his tail from side to side, bellowing out another scorching warning. Paying him no heed, the golem howls in rage, the ground reverberating beneath its feet. Dany feels her blood sing to hear the sound, and her ankles lock together between his shoulders. ]
Fly! [ she cries, and Drogon puts forth one leg, then another, his wings rising and falling as he gathers his strength. Now, now, now. And then, with one tremendous push from the ground, his front legs leave the sand, his hindquarters following close behind. They fly almost lazily toward the creature, which reaches out with unwieldy arms to swipe at them--but the dragon banks left, and Dany feels a breeze harmlessly flutter against her cheek in the gesture's wake. Irritated, the giant spins around to find its new quarry gone.
It fails to look up.
Three old syllables fly from her lips, and in an instant, a swirling plume of dark flame lances down through the air, enough to bathe head and shoulders in searing heat. As Drogon sends a curtain of shimmering waves around them, Dany holds her own breath, praying to gods far away as ashes rise into her mouth. Drogon's wings beat once, twice--
CRACK.
It takes some moments, but what once was black is turning orange and glowing, little crevices forming in what was once cool, solid rock. In distress, the creature reaches hands up to clutch its melting head and stumbles, the force of its feet sending a few waves of sand to whip against the tent's entrance. In a moment, Dany will use her newfound status as a target to drive the creature away and toward the water, if it is even able to walk with a damaged head. ]