This is a short little thing I wrote from Viserion's perspective. I have no idea what goes through the head of a dragon, and my grammar is perhaps not the best, but give it a try and enjoy.

Viserion was a dragon… and dragons were mighty.

That's what he had learned when growing up. At times, he'd even seen his own mother cower in fear of his brothers, but not Viserion, never him. He was good. He was kind, and he loved his mother. His mother whom he'd outgrown sooner than he had wished, his mother who looked nothing like him, who lacked everything a strong dragon should have. And yet, he loved her, because she was warm where others were cold. She sang him to sleep when no one was near, spoke to him in her strange tongue… so soft, so soothing.

If dragons could cry, he would.

He had yet to forget what she had done to him and Rhaegal when in the warmer lands. While Drogon flew freely over mountains, he himself had been chained underground in the dark. He had been angry, for deep down he knew that Drogon was closest to her heart; he knew that she loved him the most. It hurt, and when Viserion finally saw her face in that dark space below the earth, he had nearly hurt her in return. For that he was ashamed.

A mother shouldn't have favorites, he knew. He was angry, no… furious was the better word for what he felt, but hatred just wouldn't come. Even at her worst, he had loved her.

Viserion was good… he was. He wasn't strong like Drogon, nor fast like Rhaegal, but he was good. He had to be, for his brothers were not. They didn't seem to care about what they did, and while Viserion was no better, burning and destroying what he thought should not be, he had to be good. For his mother, he would be everything and more. He'd bring down stars and burn through the earth if she told him to.

Maybe he was weak, but though he was once small and fragile as a kitten, he had grown up now, and his mother was the fragile one.

He didn't deserve this, he was good. He told himself so over and over again, hoping that soon she would see the truth as well.

His body hurt, his mind was slowing down and his lungs were burning as he sank through the water. And so, he closed his eyes knowing that he would never become what his mother wanted. He closed his eyes knowing that never again would they meet, and as his mind slowly faded into nothing, he only hoped that she would mourn his death, and know that he was good…

This was rather fun to write. I wanted to do a longer story from this perspective, but I wasn't sure if it was a good idea, nor am I sure if my writing is good enough to give it a try. I usually write quite long chapters so this was really short, but please tell me what you think and if I should continue :)