[ Daenerys was far likely one of the more 'human' monsters. Most of her transformations blended well with her frame – scales in her skin, horns weaved into her hair, eyes barely changed and no such tail or wing present yet. Drogon was there not for protection, but companionship – clutching to her like a child does their mothers.

She was ready to excuse herself, carry on the small business she has in the city and leave, but she's called out. Stopping in her tracks, there's a cautious tilt of her head before looking to the black dragon, nipping at her silver-gold braids. ]

I – why? [ She asks almost too defensively, but clarifies by pushing away her natural distrust. ] He came through the Mirrors. From my world, but not brought here with me or ... as I last remembered him. He is younger than he was before I arrived here.