Daenerys was still dazed. She looked around and when her violet eyes fell on Jorah, she felt them well up with tears. Tears of joy and relief and the incredible satisfaction of seeing his face. The gods had spared her. She had walked into the flames fully intending to burn alongside the husband she'd wronged.

And the gods had let her walk away unscathed.

Slowly she stood, a little wobbly, like a newborn foal. But she stood. The dragons cooed, and she was a little surprised. She reached up and stroked the white dragon's head. Then it occurred to her how real they were. Real, flesh and blood dragons. She looked to Jorah and reached down, tipping up his chin to look into his eyes, and coax him to rise.

"The gods have spoken, it seems," she smiled. They wanted her to live; they wanted her to lead.