(...) Then she heard the deafening and agonizing cry of pain, looked at the overcast sky and saw what her heart had never wanted to see in her life. Hers son had been hit. Your beloved son was falling from the heavens, the blood spreading through the air .... And what could she do? Nothing. Her heart stopped and her body froze as she slowly caught the fall of her beloved cream-and-gold baby. Viserion had been hit and was down. Dead. The seconds was passing so slowly that seemed hours; the silence prevailed for a moment broken only by the cry of regret of hers two living children. Daenerys needs to act. She breathed, she couldn’t lose another one, she couldn’t bear it. So she left with her two dragons and ... How many people were with her? She couldn’t say. She only knew that one of her children was dead and she had left a person behind, to die. How could she process what had happened? Viserion died before hers eyes, tearing hers heart. And she couldn’t do absolutely nothing to save him.
