(She has run from this. She has blinded herself with sex, Lunatia, new acquaintances, but this is...

This is what is left.)

I did it. I became him.

I...no, not really.

(Lying wouldn't be right.)

This appearance feels like something I earned. I forgot my humanity.

I didn't...for awhile. I tried to convince myself what I had done was...right. Necessary.

It wasn't. (She can't hide from it forever. Daenerys is a mother, a friend, a protector naturally. What she became in King's Landing was a savage conqueror.)

I would give my life a thousand times to bring them back.

(His appearance merits a longer stare from bright blue eyes with slit irises. Scales in black, blue and silver trail down Daenerys's cheeks and down her neck. She is wearing a soft robe, tied securely at the waist. From the ridges here and there under the fabric, she has scales down her sides and her thighs. Her fingers end in sharp talons the same hue as the horns on her head. Her wings are pressed against her back, signalling her tension.)

What I did makes me a monster. I was a dragon, but not one that sought justice.

I thought I was more. (Most Targaryens shelter that delusion. Her being impervious to fire, awakening dragons, conquering cities convinced her fully. For a time.)

My dragons took to me as their mother. People called them monsters and I wondered, for a long time, if I was a monster too.

(She can put power in her voice, an ability that might help him overcome any discomfort he has over her appearance. Thus Daenerys switches to audio only, pitching her words seductively, drawing him to her even if he is digging in his heels.)

I wasn't speaking solely of moonblessings. I did the unthinkable before I was revived in Lunatia. It is that burden that haunts me.

(Come... Come... She summons him, awakening his baser instincts.)

Am I a monster inside and out? When did I lose my humanity?