"It is." She raises her head, meeting his gaze levelly. "Your people are your responsibility, as family would be. To safeguard, to shelter and feed. Usurpers have left a mess of my country. Whether they fear, love or hate me, I still have work to do." Because her Dothraki and Unsullied had followed her across the Narrow Sea, not Cersei Lannister. Nor the Night King. "Should you lead your people one day, I would counsel this: find a balance between love and fear. They will follow." Olenna Tyrell hadn't been wrong, but nor had Rhaegar. And they'd both died.

"Should you ever need another one, I'll gladly oblige." You're welcome, she says without overtly saying so. Viserion leans a little closer, and she watches on, seemingly serene. "It was a relief when he died. A weight off my shoulders. I'm unaware of the intricacies of your situation, but cruelty should never be borne."

The dragon's snapped up the meat in no time, and she smiles to watch; it brings to the fore memories of another lifetime, or so it all feels like now. "Drogon is the largest of them, and not fully grown yet in the slightest. He dwarfs the ships we use to ply the sea."