They were certainly not words that Daenerys expected to hear, though they were a mantra she repeated to herself often, a reminder and a prayer. She looked up sharply, and stared; it would see that this mad, flying island must also be full of ghosts.

"Vi-Viserys?" she managed to stammer, though even as the name stumbled past her lips she knew that though there was a strong resemblance, it was the wrong name. What the right name was, she wasn't certain. Aegon? Daeron? Jaehaerys?

Perhaps Ser Barristan was wrong, perhaps she was touched with madness, seeing visions of an impossible land and spectres of her long dead kin.