Laying on the cold stone in the throne room Daenerys had just conquered she tries in vain to keep her consciousness.

The pitiful sorry's coming from her lover, no murderer falls to deaths ear as ice cold pain encompassed her being.

A contentious collection of white glittering flakes fall delicately on her face, kissing her with their cold lips.

Like a kiss from death.

The aforementioned ache of the dagger inside her heart is nothing compared to the fire raging in her heart. A raging storm personified she clings desperately to life, not wishing to die.

She has a destiny to fulfill.

It's not her time.

Everyone gave her horribly hidden looks, the kind that said 'now, about this issue?'

Like, she didn't just save them, didn't sacrifice a majority of her own people, not that she wished for recognition, just the respect that she deserves.

She likes to think she doesn't care for others' opinions, but when people treat you like the enemy, like some outcast, it eats you.

She ignored the looks.

She didn't care about the way they praised Jon for riding a Dragon despite her being the Mother of them.

She didn't need their validation, or she deluded herself into believing she didn't need it.

Danaerys wasn't used to people ignoring her deeds. She can admit that she got a sense of being, whenever someone would praise her. The breaker of chains, a title she took pride in, but her favorite will always be Mysa, the mother of the weak, and fighter for those who can't.

That's who she was, in her mind.

She truly wants the world to be a better place. A place where little girls can play in front of red doors, without the fear of death, starving or being raped.

She knew it's wishful thinking

'but if no one tries, who will?' She thinks with anguish,

''How did it come to this? I was going to, all I wanted was too…' she wonders as her vision blurred.

All she recalls is being so consumed by her own emotions, from losing so much precious to her, Viserion, Rhaegal, her blood brothers and sisters.

The catalyst had been Missandei, the innocent former slave who became her dearest companion and closest confidant. When her head hit the ground, Daenerys' whole world tilted. She went numb to the world as her best friend, who she wanted to give the world died…in chains.

She'll never get that image out of her head.

Climbing on top of Drogon, gazing at Red Keep housing the Lion's Cunt.

The desire to kill Cersei clouded her vision. The haze of all her rage, her grief coupled with the urge to make her, them pay. Before she could blink the city was on fire and the Red Keep was destroyed.

During it all she felt like she was just along for the ride, like she was being influenced.

Like her body was but a puppet.

She did it, Daenerys knows, but she never felt such an intense rage before.

A madness inducing rage.

It was like they were one, her and Drogon.

She felt like an uncontrollable power had been fueling her, combined with the euphoric feeling of being free, free of her humanity.

Free from the burden of emotions.

Daenerys allowed herself to be consumed. She allowed herself to become 'a dragon' that Lady Olenna told her to be, finally releasing 20 years of pent up rage, hurt, and betrayal.

Her mind is drawn to Ser Barristan.

Would he say she's just like her father?

Would he understand that she, like any human, has a breaking point?

She's not saying she's innocent, but everyone does and is capable of terrible things in the fit of rage.

kings have killed for less all the time.

Why is it whenever, she acts on her rage like any man would-

'That's it.' She realizes as her mind wanes into oblivion.

''Men can't accept women are just the same as them'' she wants to scoff at the hypocrisy of it all.

"-nerys" Daenerys hears a voice trying to gain her attention, but the sight of Rhaegal and Viserion's dying keeps flashing throughout her mind.

"Your grace." The soft voice of Messandei is the only thing that breaks her thoughts.

Daenerys' teary eyes leave the knowing gaze of Kinvara to look at the face of her most trusted ally and dearest friend, and if she is to be honest one of the tethers holding her humanity in place.

She can practically hear the singing of the blade and remember the sight of her head thumping against the ground after the wretched Lannister bitch ordered such actions.

'No, never will my butterfly get her wings clipped.' She thinks, vowing to herself.

"It's alright," she says, waving down the guards who had tensed up with their weapons. "I'm alright." She repeats, not knowing who she's trying to reassure as her heart thunders in her chest.

'If I look back, I am lost.'

Instinctively her gaze searches for her most loyal knight only for her heart to lurch when she catches his missing post of. Her tense body only relaxes when she remembers he's been exiled, and isn't dead. She feels her breath hitch as the scene of his death plays over and over.

'My Bear,' she thinks with love,'My gallivant protector.'

Turning her gaze back to the Red priestess, she inclines her head, "thank you, Lady of R'hlior. I am indebted to you and your god for the knowledge you have given me. Ask me anything and I shall grant it if it's of my power." She intones, ignoring the shock of her court and the searing gaze of Daario.

The priestess only clasps her hands in front of her womb before speaking, "it's a privilege to help and guide the promised one. All I ask is for you to let the lord guide you, and to let us serve our dear Bride of R'hlior." Danny's brow rises at the new moniker, but keeps quiet for a moment.

"Then you shall be granted such."

The priestess only bows, "all you need to do is summon me with your grace and I shall come." With those ominous words the powerful mediator of the gods walks out.

"Danny!" 'Daario'

"Your Grace!" She feels armored arms catch her as she tilts off of the bench. 'Ser Barristan, thank the gods you're still alive.'

'Will you forsake me when you learn of what I could have and have the potential to do?' She wonders, with no contempt.

The last thing Daenerys hears is Messandei reassuring them she's only exhausted.

——

The morrow after

Hot damp air clings to her skin with each step further into her children's home.

Daenerys feels more disgust aimed at herself as she enters the prison she put her son's in.

Why did she think it was a good idea to lock up her children?

Now that she thinks of it, why would her children burn someone and not eat them? She had suspicions about the farmers' claim, but she couldn't fathom a father burning their own child for a prophet.

The connection she has with her children allows her to subconsciously be aware of their state of being, she has a stronger connection with Drogon, but she wonders if that because he was able to grow up free unlike her other two.

'That's gonna change now!' She snarls in her mind as she takes hold of the torch so she can travers them tunnels. She can hear her baby's harsh breathing from the entrance.

'Drogon came home, I'm sorry,' she thinks mournfully, knowing and understanding why her biggest had flew off.

She chained her own children while preaching about being the breaker of chains.

With each step a jolt of nervousness runs up her spine, she knows her children still fought for her, after Tyrion let them out, or will, would have.

She can feel the moment one of her children approach her.

The acidic-like breath fanning across her neck is the first clue, the second is the beam of light being produced behind her as the heat intensifies.

Just as she turns Rhaegal lets out a vicious roar, the hurt coming off of him makes her legs become jello, falling to the floor she ignores the slight pain as her knees click against the ground.

The green and copper flames pass over her head, the heat alone being hot enough to sear a normal person, but she hasn't ever been normal.

Rhaegal lets his mighty flames stay alight long enough to make a statement as she finally finds the courage to face them.

The collar on his neck makes her nose crinkle in guilt.

She tentatively reaches out feeling her heart break as he seems to flinch away, moisture builds in her eyes at the behavior. It reminds her of when she was with Viserys, a weak girl.

As if called, her brother's namesake can be heard scraping across the stone.

The pale scales of her Viserion almost glowing in the darkness.

"My boy's" she whispers in Valyrian.

"My precious children, can you ever forgive me for losing sight of you." She feels like weeping, how could she allow this, was this why her children were so easily killed? Because she was weak.

"You're weak." Viserys would tell her, and maybe he's correct, no matter how strange her army is, no matter how big her boy's become.

She's still that scared little girl who just wants to be safe.

"There's no such thing as safety for a queen." She speaks out loud.

She looks up when her sweet porcelain beauty nudges her with a clicking chirp that only her children used to make freely when they were so small.

Now, her smallest son's eye is the size of her palm.

"Come here," she commands gently, pointing to the collar.

She feels a small amount of amusement build up as her wild emerald perks up with interest, the touch laying on the ground giving her the chance to see him creep closer as she proceeds to pull the pins of the collar chaining them to the ground.

'A dragon should never be grounded' she feels stupid for not realizing how much she was handicapping her children.

The sound of giant chains falling onto the ground makes her flinch as she takes in just what she did to her son.

"You've always been my gentle one haven't you, I don't think mother deserves your easy forgiveness, but I swear on my soul that I won't let you be hurt again."

Looking at Rhaegal before she continues, "even from me."

"Rhaegal, if you wish to fly with Drogon I'll never stop you from leaving, all I ask if you keep each other safe." She says with a heavy heart.

Slowly Rhaegal lowers his head, their gaze meeting as she unlatches the chains on his collar, soon the same bang of chains topple to the floor.

Looking around herself she takes in the giant links that had been shackling her children, they surround her like in a circle the collars laying on each side of her.

Feeling like she needs to do something, not knowing what is possessing her, but like when she walked into the Pyre for Drogo she follows the same instinct.

Looking up into the gazes of her children, with both of them towering over her.

She stands there surrounded by chains made of steel, when she speaks her voice holds no stutter and wields not a single ounce of fear.

Surrounded by the chains she deems the start of her downfall she speaks the one word that has plagued her life and shaped it all the same.

"Dracarys!" She commands, after a second she is accompanied by the heat of their flames.

She watches as pearl-like mixed with glowing green flames, bronze twinkling throughout as her children around her scorch their prison.

The chains surrounding her begin to glow red and slowly start to deform as the flames of her children melt the steel.

The stone she stands upon shining just as hot. She lets her sons destroy their chains not caring for her long silver hair starts to fizzle and whisper away.

Her hair can grow back any way.

A/n:

So I decided to re-write and change the story of Danny.

if the ending is confusing she basically is cleansing herself and letting her children burn their chains away so no one can be tempted to shackle them up.

Yes the fact that they can be made again isn't relevant, it's all symbolism.

Will she let Tyrion join her or hold a grudge for his role in her would be death?