Forward
Drogon lay in the ash that fell from the towers of the Red Keep, he was just about to make himself comfortable when he felt the tether between them quiver - What was that? Why Is she in pain? Drogon darted up to where he felt his mother's presence to see why she was in duress.
As he flew up to the Keep and let himself down into the throne room...there she lay on the ground. He went to nudge, wondering why she did not make a sound, why she did not move. As Drogon started to realize that he no longer felt her end of the tether- only darkness and silence - his fury filled his body.
Drogon took in a deep breath with every intention of destroying the one who betrayed his mother. He turned to him. This other Targaryen who did not look like a Targaryen, but still his blood sang with the fire...anger, disbelief, sorrow, love...each emotion contorting the darkened features of Jon’s face. No. He won’t kill him – that would be a mercy. He is suffering and should continue to suffer for the remainder of his existence.
Drogon looked at the throne then back at Jon. The Iron Throne, it's been named. This...seat of swords once belonging to the Dragon Men that more pathetic men now fought and died for. Killed his mother for. His fire rumbled deep inside him, fueled by the rage of his fallen brothers and slain mother. His maw opened, and from its depths he blew out enough fire in a single, ear-splitting roar to disintegrate the throne, melting it over the altar where it sat. Let that be the end of it.
Drogon carefully folded the body of his mother between his claws. She looked like she was sleeping...peacefully. A rare thing in his mother’s life. Where are they to go? One place filled his mind....home...… smoky seas and mountainous towers.... yes we would be safe there , he thought to himself. And so they would go. Back to where it all began.