Darkness.

It was the darkness that came before a dream, the darkness that washed over your mind in your sleep, robbing you of all feeling, of all cognition, of all control. Except now, she didn't know when she would wake up.

In a way, she knew that she was never to arise. It was an inherent knowledge and the only thing that remained in her mind, with the notion that she would never see her children, her people, nor the world she wanted to love and remedy ever again. A strange feeling of remorse settled in her chest as she looked down and saw not her torso and legs, but nothing.

To leave the world better than we found it.

The calmness, the utter silence of this place took away all her adrenaline that she had before. Her heart beat steadily, her mind ran fast, but nothing was coming to her. A slimmer of thought came and left, along with a flash of something dripping. It almost looked like tears.

Fragments of her life flashed before her eyes, but not enough for her to know when it was, or for her to even determine what was happening. The images looked different, but how it was different she could not tell. It was bright, but dark. It was messy, but calm. It was a blur; that she knew best.

How did she get here again?

All this… this… she couldn't find… Slipping, away, further, blurring. Everything came in bits. She felt detached, like she was losing purpose, like she was ceasing to exist. She tried to grasp something, but remembered she had no hands. She tried to run, but realized she had no legs. An uncomfortable feeling bubbled within her consciousness. It made her want to fall and forfeit this mental battle…

This dreaded place refused to offer her even the solace of collapsing in defeat.

Out. That was the only word, the only coherent thought that she had. Out. The blurred pictures made her uncomfortable and hurt. She wanted to shut them out but could not… How was she to endure this?

Out. She was still thinking. Not everything was lost. Out. The irritation crawled up her soul, blooming into something that threatened to consume her very existence. Out. She screamed, feeling something churn within her.

Zaldrīzes.

Something came to her. She was seeing… colors. Yes, that's what they were called. Red-was that red?-lining a gentle pink with black at the tips. The pink seemed to be falling, falling, but it never struck the ground as the scene changed. Green, rising over something brown, struck something in her.

Fire cannot kill a dragon.

That red! It was fire, and the green, was fire, but… evil? She could see buildings, people.

Grey Worm?

She looked down and saw her body, on top of a dragon, her baby, her Drogon. Below her was a city, crumbling and burning, but she couldn't care less about it. The feeling was beautiful. She felt happy. There was not a care for those screaming and crying.

Break the wheel.

No. She had to care.

Everything around her vanished. She began falling, her stomach lurching, her heart leaping into her throat until she was thrown brutally against a ground covered in snow. Someone was approaching her, some Snow, some…

You betrayed me.

She scrambled to her feet, backing up until something stopped her from going further. A wall of swords pierced her back as the Snow approached her, and it was then she realized it was not snow she stood upon, but ashes.

Snow-Jon Snow-was speaking, but she couldn't hear him. She brought her hands up to her throat and tore at it, scratching it until she felt something churning inside her mouth and spit it out in a frantic fit.

"Get away from me!"

Jon did not listen and continued to step towards her, blue eyes… blue eyes? Stony blue eyes sent shivers down her soul, and she could not look away no matter how hard she tried. Her eyes stared into those eyes, so cold that it's freezing her mind into oblivion, as a knife was plunged into her heart.

Darkness.

Viserys burning in gold.

Drogo suffocating.

Mhysa, people chanting.

Tyrion wearing a pin.

Jorah embracing her warmly.

Viserion screeching and falling.

Blue eyes and eternal winter.

Rhaegal screaming in blood.

Dracarys, Missandei crying.

Tyrion throwing his pin.

Jon yelling at her.

Daenerys, my queen.

A knife in her heart.

Darkness.

Then a phenomenally refreshing slap of air and a vision of a crimson room.

daenerys being revived is definitely the postcredit scene we deserved and wanted