And then silence. Nothing at all, save for the twitching and shivering of the monstrous branches slithering about her, as if taking their own last breaths.
The machine explodes outward, shards expanding into billions of glittering pieces that rain gently down on Daenerys, snowflakes that melt into her skin and tingle with warmth. When she dares to open her eyes again, it's to the sight of Erik, his left hand held outstretched.
The machine struggles forward, tries to recompose, until Erik wrenches his arm down and it disintegrates into the ground. He's covered in soot and ash, hair upswept down his forehead and temples, and he draws his fingers through it before sparing her a glance.
He kneels and touches her shoulder. "I do not," he admits softly. "But you are my friend. I will not allow you to be harmed. I promise."