Daenerys remains where she is. To see how far he will dare come to her, and to the dragon at her back who is both resting and conserving his energy while watching this reunion with speculative lizard eyes. That her heart is beating fast is something she refuses to betray on her face. Partially hidden under her long coat sleeves, her hands have formed fists.

"I hatched he and his kin in the flames of a funeral pyre. I raised them, I taught them the words of our ancestors, and I ride them. He is the largest, and the fiercest."

Behind her, Drogon's wings rustle, as if sensing that he is getting Compliments.

"Drogon," she says. Will Viserys flinch, at that name? Its inspiration? She watches carefully. "I named him Drogon."