#A shame dragons are immune to fire...

[eruherdiriel]

After ruin

Jonsa ficlet Rating: T Universe: Canon Other: Angst, Sansa POV

Also on AO3.

She watches him slide the knife from its sheath and test the sharpness of the blade against a callus on his left hand.

“Must you go?” Sansa asks. Jon is always going to war it seems, and this time he would march right into the dragon’s maw. “Daenerys has already killed kin to clear her path to the Iron Throne.”

Aegon Targaryen is dead, so proclaimed the letter that arrived not five days ago with news from the south. Dragon fire killed him, as it kills many in the Crownlands and the Reach these days. But his death occurred after a challenge, a mockery of a test Daenerys must have known her nephew would not pass. She offered him one of her dragons to ride and then commanded it to breathe fire on him, the letter said. When he burned, she said it proved he was a pretender and that her true nephew died nearly two decades ago in King’s Landing.

Sansa knows better. Targaryens are not immune to fire; she has felt the proof as she traced the ruined skin of Jon’s sword hand. And yet, she has also heard the stories of when they tried to burn his body after the mutiny at Castle Black. She still remembers how Satin would not meet her eyes when he spoke of it, out of both shame for allowing it to happen and for fear of how Jon rose amidst the flames.

“I am a soldier. The battlefield is where I belong,” Jon says. The blade sings as he slides it back into its covering. “This is how I serve the North.”

“And how you run from love,” she says softly. She had not meant to say the words aloud, and hearing them nearly stops her own heart. It is much too soon for such a sentiment, but once it is out, Sansa knows it is true. She loves him. 

Whatever he feels in return, it is enough for Jon to run from her, just as he runs from his parentage. If he is fighting, he doesn’t have to face either thing. He doesn’t have to think about his mother dying after she birthed him and living her final months hidden away in a tower in Dorne. He doesn’t have to explain why he lets Rickon fall asleep against one side of his body and Sansa fall asleep against the other when they tell her baby brother a bedtime story. He doesn’t have to explain why he stopped letting Sansa come to his bed when she has nightmares, but she knows it happened after the morning she woke to feel him pressed against her, his hand wound in her hair and his breath warm on her neck.

He doesn’t have to explain why, when she tended his wound after fighting the Others and began to cry at the damage to his body that showed how close she came to losing him again, Jon lifted her chin with one hand and told her not to weep. Told her that he survived. That he could survive anything if it meant coming home to her. And then he kissed her tears away, his lips pressed against one cheek and then another before finding the curve of her mouth.

Her words to him now make Jon still, his back toward her, and he stays silent for some time. Sansa holds her breath and waits. Jon is always making her wait.

Jon, and the gods. And because of that, she has learned to be patient, learned through waiting to escape King’s Landing, and then waiting to escape the Vale of Arryn, and still she waits for Bran and Arya to come home.

“I do,” he says, head cocked slightly in her direction but still not facing Sansa. “Love you. But my love would only ruin you.”

This time, her heart does stop; she would swear to it.

If only Jon had stopped speaking after saying, I do love you.

“Ruin? You know nothing of love if you think it would ruin me.”

Now Jon turns. “Sansa, I’m—”

“A bastard?” she snaps. “A Targaryen? A deserter from the Night’s Watch? How many times must I tell you I do not care about any of those things? I care about how you treat your friends. How you respect me and make me feel safe. I care about how you’re the only person left that I can talk to about Robb, even though it hurts. I care about how you do your duty as a soldier despite how I know you want nothing more than to find out if Bran and Arya are alive and to search for them.”

He sighs and scrubs a hand over his face.

But Sansa has more to say, so she continues before he can protest yet again. “When we find love in this world, we should cling to it. How much love does anyone know in their life? I once had a mother and father and siblings who loved me. And they are gone except for Rickon, swept off by war and violence, and that is ruin, Jon.”

His eyes soften, and finally he leaves his half-packed saddle bag and walks over to her. Then Jon takes her face in his hands, and for the heartbeat that he studies her, Sansa thinks he is going to give her what she wants—he will kiss her and say he is going to stay. But instead, Jon tilts her head down and presses his lips to her forehead, and the vision is dashed.

“This is all I can give you at present,” he whispers into her hairline. “My sword.”

Why, she wants to scream. Why can’t you stay with me?

But she knows why. The qualities that would keep Jon from her and drive her ire are the same ones that helped make her love him.

“And after?” she whispers.

Her head is tucked into his neck, but she can hear the frown Jon must wear when he speaks. “Let me deal with our enemies. Then we can talk about after.”

It is only half a promise, but she will take it, will hold it tight to her chest while she waits for the wars to finally be over.

[whiteoutzz]

Hi! Is it ok if you elaborate and/or explain how disabled characters within Wings of Fire aren’t treated well and/or written well within the series (and/or that Wings of Fire is very weird about disabled characters) please?

sorry it took me a bit anon, but i needed to gather my thoughts.

But basically; while there is alot i could focus on, that even with disabled characters that are good, their disabilty isn't really all that researched (both starflight and tamarin for example, but i don't know enough to make a whole post about them), or how narrative often treats them as disposable or not as important as rest of the characters (ospery literally exist just to be killed. and yes alot of characters die in wof, but he is one book and then is killed off for other characters progression) (also whiteout. but i will make analysis of her another time). or whatever stonemover had going on.

and even with jerboa iii / boa, she hides her missing talons out of shame in her story, but it almost seems like its so the auhtor is more comofrtable with her, and idunno maybe she stops doing that later but it does feel gross to me. < and yes i am aware that loss of her talons was in a traumatic way but it doesn't really justify it, especially with how other disabled characters are written.

and even fucking Scarlet, who is disabled as a punishment (in the narrative, not the story itself. also she hides her scar in some instances with animus magic, and yes im especially including her).

clay's disability is mostly forgotten both by books and fandom, and much more.

but i do think one of the things that angers me the most is chameleon, and how you can't really fix that without literally not making him a villain. HIS WHOLE MOTIVATION is that is he is disabled, angry at the ableism, and changing himself due to that. and greed too i guess, but you can't really ingore the disability part, and i just look at how he is written. HE IS LITERALLY EVIL BECAUSE HE IS DISABLED... in text he has a facial difference (even if he is rarley drawn with it), a sleeping disorder, and of course, not being able to change his scales. its the most visible one in fact. he is kicked out from his kingdom literally because he is disabled, and he is angry, and finds the scroll, and does evil things or whatever. (and also has peril and is a questionable father).

I can't really describe how angry i am at his character existing. And you can't fix him! At best you could have rainwings with his disability who aren't evil, but even then, his motivation is that he is disabled, and its his primary motivation. It fuels his anger, its why he takes on multiple forms, its why he attacks Kinkajou, its probably why he tries to change Peril. < also greed, but im ignoring this on purpouse because it isnt relevant to the discussion and it doesn't erase the fact that his main motivation is that he is angry because he is disabled and how he changes himself into different dragons, and how he has distain for other rainwings, all that.

Why is it a problem? Well because it implies disability can make you evil and also even if we are symphatetic to Chameleon, there is no solution for his anger. The problems aren't fixed. And we never get another Rainwing character who can't change their scales. His evilness is tied to his disability, both of them connected. If one was to fix that, you would need to redeem him or not make him a villain in the first place, but then what is the point of his character. Its not just lack of reaserch or few things in poor taste, ITS HIS WHOLE CHARACTER!

And for the record, im not calling tui an evil horrible bigot, but she is not immune to bias. Its not just ableism of course, series has other issues, but its really really glaring.

Coming back to some characters; how Boa hides her disabilty, its of course of internalized ableism, but characters do not exist in a vaccum. Blind characters are commonly potrayed with cataracts (clody, foggy eyes), regardless of their actual type of blindess, or with something covering their eyes (like a blindfold). disabled characters are often killed off or not important to the narrative. While we do have few disabled protagonist, its after their pov, so we don't get a point of view of a character who is disabled.

Im probably missing something, but i think its enough things to say hey. Wings of Fire has ableism problem.

*also i didnt read book 15 or the guide so if im missing something else important im sorry i didnt really know

and i apologize if its written messy and has grammar and spelling mistakes and if i got something wrong but my point still stands even if i missed something or didnt explore somethings nuance entirely or got something wrong.

ok thats all . i think.

[thecreaturecodex]

Ha-naga

Image © Bad Moon Art Studio, accessed at their gallery here

[Sponsored by @justicegundam82, who's been having me convert monsters from both Epic Level Handbook and Serpent Kingdoms for a while. And this one is from both! I do find it interesting that the greatest of the nagas, rather than being neutral or being posited as an ancestor or patron to all nagas, is explicitly chaotic evil. I'm going to be working this into the Age of Monsters/Great Game stuff, believe me. Also, thanks to this excellent art, I gave my version both disintegrate and Still Spell]

Ha-Naga CR 20 CE Aberration This human-headed serpent is enormous, its head the size of an entire human, and its body as long as a caravel. Its scales shimmer in color but default to a pearlescent white.

Ha-nagas are the most powerful and magically gifted of the naga lineages. It is a shame, therefore, that they are universally evil. Every ha-naga is self-absorbed to the point of megalomania, and they respect nothing else besides the gods, and even those only grudgingly. Most ha-nagas like to view themselves as divine incarnations, extinction level events, civilization destroyers, and other over the top entities. They have the power to back these claims up on a practical level. Spirit nagas view ha-nagas with a combination of envy and awe, and most ha-nagas have one or more nests of spirit naga minions.

In combat, a ha-naga would rather avoid violence altogether with its mesmerizing gaze. Most ha-nagas have charmed victims to slow down dedicated enemies with, and they do not hesitate to allow said charmed victims to be slain in its stead. If a ha-naga’s mind-controlled allies turn on it, they merely become additional targets for its spells. Ha-nagas tend to like big flashy spells that deal damage over a wide area, and then focus fire on any healers or fellow casters left standing. If they are allowed the freedom of an open-air location for combat, they take to the skies, flying gracefully like a snake swimming through water. Their slam attack is a grasping loop of their coils, and their stings contain venom that causes flesh to decompose within seconds.

Ha-nagas are enormous, and as such require enormous lairs. Abandoned and ruined cities are a favorite, with the ha-naga nesting inside of a temple complex, coliseum or other monumental building. They are very tactile creatures, and often sleep on mounds of treasure in the way that dragons do. Dragons are the only creatures ha-nagas feel remotely threatened by, and some ha-nagas make a habit of eliminating all of the dragons within a comfortable radius of their lairs (and stealing their hoards) before settling down in a location for good.

A ha-naga is about 100 feet long. Their lifespans are best measured in centuries, and a ha-naga can survive two or three millennia if not slain in combat.

Ha-Naga CR 20 XP 307,200 CE Colossal aberration (evil) Init +12; Senses darkvision 60 ft., Perception +36, scent Defense AC 34, touch 14, flat-footed 22 (-8 size, +12 Dex, +20 natural) hp 372 (24d8+264) Fort +19, Ref +22, Will +23 DR 20/good; Immune charms, compulsion effects; SR 31 Weakness corrupted Offense Speed 60 ft., fly 120 ft. (perfect) Melee slam +22 (4d6+9 plus grab), sting +22 (2d8+9 plus poison), bite +22 (4d4+9) Space 30 ft.; Reach 20 ft. Special Attacks charming gaze, constrict (4d6+13) Spells CL 19th, concentration +30 9th (5/day)—meteor swarm (DC 30), wail of the banshee (DC 30) 8th (7/day)—fire storm (DC 29), horrid wilting (DC 29), power word stun 7th (8/day)—greater arcane sight, greater teleport, regenerate 6th (8/day)—disintegrate (DC 27), greater heroism, heal (DC 27) 5th (8/day)—baleful polymorph (DC 26), cone of cold (DC 26), nightmare (DC 26), wall of force (DC 26) 4th (8/day)—cure critical wounds (DC 25), divine power, freedom of movement, scrying (DC 25) 3rd (9/day)—dispel magic, displacement, lightning bolt (DC 24), slow (DC 24) 2nd (9/day)—alter self, mirror image, resist energy, scorching ray, spiritual weapon 1st (9/day)—cure light wounds (DC 22), identify, mage armor, magic missile, shield of faith 0th—bleed (DC 21), detect magic, ghost sound (DC 21), light, mage hand, message, read magic, stabilize, touch of fatigue (DC 21) Statistics Str 28, Dex 34, Con 32, Int 31, Wis 29, Cha 33 Base Atk +18; CMB +38 (+42 grapple); CMD 58 (cannot be tripped) Feats Agile Maneuvers, Arcane Strike, Combat Reflexes, Dodge, Empower Spell, Eschew Materials (B), Extend Spell, Flyby Attack, Lightning Reflexes, Quicken Spell, Skill Focus (Stealth), Still Spell, Weapon Finesse Skills Acrobatics +39 (+51 when jumping), Bluff +35, Diplomacy +35, Fly +39, Intimidate +38, Knowledge (arcana, dungeoneering, planes) +34, Knowledge (history) +37, Perception +36, Sense Motive +33, Spellcraft +37, Stealth +41, Survival +36; Racial Modifiers +12 Stealth Languages Abyssal, Aklo, Common, Draconic, Senzar, Undercommon SQ camouflage, compression, flight, metamagic mastery Ecology Environment any land or underground Organization solitary Treasure double standard Special Abilities Camouflage (Ex) A ha-naga gains a +12 racial bonus on Stealth checks. It does not need cover or concealment to make Stealth checks. Charming Gaze (Su) Range 60 ft.; effect charmed (as per charm monster) for 20 days; save Will DC 31. The save DC is Charisma based and includes a -2 racial penalty. Corrupted (Ex) A ha-naga is treated as an outsider with the evil subtype, as well as its actual type, for spells and abilities affected by creature type. Flight (Su) The fly speed of a ha-naga is a supernatural ability. Metamagic Mastery (Su) A ha-naga does not need to increase the casting time of a spontaneous spell in order to modify that spell with its metamagic feats. Poison (Ex) Sting—injury; save Fort DC 33; duration 1/round for 6 rounds; effect 1d8 Con damage; cure 2 consecutive saves. The save DC is Constitution based. Spells A ha-naga can cast spells as a 19th level sorcerer. It treats spells from the cleric spell list as being on the sorcerer/wizard list. It does not gain any of the other class abilities of a sorcerer, such as a bloodline.

[surelyyourejesting]

I think the most intense moment I've ever had in skyrim was when I was about to do the diplomatic immunity quest with my previous dragonborn. I had given all of my gear to malborn, only to make the shocking realization that: 1. I had no clothing other than the gear I needed malborn to get into the embassy in my inventory 2. I didn't have katla's farm discovered so I had to do the walk of shame in my underwear all the way from the winking skeever. And, well, it doesn't matter, it's a video game, I'm not walking several miles barefoot in my underwear in real life. It's fine, what's the worst that could- I'm in the middle of talking to Delphine, when the dialogue box closes. "What was that?" she says, drawing her bow. I hear a roar. I look around to find a dragon's attacking. I quicksave harder and faster than I ever had in my life up until that point. I open my inventory to see if I have anything that I could use as a weapon, and all I had was an unenchanted, crappy little dagger that I must've accidentally picked up somewhere. So there I stood. Facing a dragon. No shoes. no pants. no hat, gloves, necklace, circlet- nothing. All I had was a couple of solitude guards, dunmer 50% immunity to fire, two essential npcs, a dagger, and plot protection. The dragon flew around, breathing fire onto everything. Y'know. regular dragon activities. Something a lot more harrowing when you're naked. All I could do was watch as everyone shot arrows at the beast, since I was an idiot and completely forgot that I could whip out sparks or flames.

Once the dragon landed, I came to it's side and began wailing on it with my dagger. Luckily, delphine and the guards were distracting it enough to not go after me. And then, it took off and flew, creating mayhem I couldn't do anything about once more.

After a few cycles of this, we took the beast down. Surprisingly, no casualties. The dragon turned into a skeleton, and I absorbed it's soul, as per usual.

and then I casually continued my conversation with delphine as if nothing ever happened, and proceeded through the quest as normal, receiving clothing, and proceeding upon my merry way to crash a party in order to learn the very surprising news that no, alduin is NOT two justiciars in a trench coat, which is information none of us saw coming.

so.... you wanna know the real kicker? after I got into the embassy I realized I knew oakflesh and bound sword. lots of that fight's challenge could've very easily been mitigated if I just didn't forget magic was a thing.

so. moral of the story is don't be silly and forget magic exists!

[mynametido]

Hola a todos!!

I wanted to make my first post on here about the desired reality that I'm currently focused on. This being my Hogwarts dr. Not Harry Potter, Hogwarts. We'll get to that in a minute. Just a note before we go any further as well, I took huge chunks out of my script when re-writing it here because it's quite lengthy, and all you guys need is the gist. Without further ado here is...

Hogwarts

[ a script ]

INTRO

“Do not pity the dead, Harry. Pity the living, and, above all those who live without love,” - Albus Dumbledore. I am a 3rd year at Hogwarts School of Wizardry, and I have plans to become a dragon-keeper/dragonologist.

WHERE I ARRIVE

I am riding the Hogwarts express on my way to the Hogwarts School of Wizardry for my first day of year 3.

Our (Fred and I) train carriage smells distinctly like coffee and vanilla beans.

ABOUT ME

Things

- Name = OR name

- 15 years old

- Birthday = February 27th

- I am a full-blood.

- I am an optimistic extrovert.

Background

- Basically long story short my parents died in a house fire when I was 7 and I've been living with my adopted family ever since I was 9.

Appearance

- I don't have a face claim because I just script that I have my desired appearance and let my subconscious fill in the rest. But I guess some unique things that I've written down are:

Food doesn't affect my health or weight.

This just makes life so much easier. No second guessing that extra cookie or unnecessary guilt/shame for "unhealthy" cravings.

I am immune to any facial blemishes, acne, hyper pigmentation, large pores, blackheads, etc. My skin is flawless in every way and is always completely clear.

I'm a little bit of a perfectionist, guys, if you haven't already figured out, but only where it counts. I don't buy into the whole idea that you have to script in flaws for your dr to be "realistic" and meaningful. My motto is, "Even if the world is burning and crashing down around me, at least I'm hot."

(My nails) are indestructible, so they never break when I don't want them to.

Don't mind me, just taking out any minor inconvenience wherever I can. 🧍🏽‍♂️

Skills

- I can sing really well.

- I am fluent in 6 languages: English, Spanish, French, Korean, and Russian + ESL. I am immune to losing fluency in any of these languages.

- I can play chess well.

- My reading pace is 20 spp (seconds per page)

I completely just made that up btw, i don't think that spp is an actual thing. 💀

- I am an amazing artist. My style is so fun. I can easily draw anything and turn it into a masterpiece.

- I can play the piano really well. I am skilled at playing by ear.

You know essentially all of your default run of the mill dark academia associations. Piano playing, chess, speaking Russian, etc etc.

SCHOOL

Academia/status

So I'll just show the first few sentences of each bullet I created because the rest is just fluff.

I get 100%'s on all my tests, assignments, assessments, etc, without fail. I literally am incapable of getting less than perfection on everything. I always get homework and tests done fast with A++ accuracy. I am an excellent student. During a test, I could close my eyes and fill in random answers, and still get full marks on every question.

900 IQ groundbreaking big brain energy with this one everyone (being sarcastic obvi). Why should I work harder when I can...well damn not work at all right?

I am so popular. Everyone absolutely loves me. I am the main character. I live the most exciting teen dream filled life. My life is so interesting and fun, it's like a literal movie. My life is like that one part of the song Art Deco. I can live in the present easily and live each day moment to moment. Everything in my life is perfect. Everyday is an adventure.

I swear I have that song on loop in my head. Lana Del Rey is our lord and savior. 🙏 ❤️

As well as having a separate living area for each house, there is also a designated study space that is outside of the school for each house. The study space is open for students 24/7.

It's such bull that in the movies and books, they have a curfew. No one cares that I'm off doing my hot girl shit hitting them books at 12 am.

Schedule

(First class starts at 8:45 and last class ends at 2:30)

◗ 　1rst period - Core class: Potions

◗ 　2nd period - Core class: Herbology

◗ 　3rd period - All school year: Study Hall (45 minutes)

◗ 　4th period - Elective: Astronomy (1rst semester)

◗ 　4th period - Elective: Transfiguration of charms (2nd semester)

◗ 　5th period - All school year: Lunch

◗ 　6th period - Elective: Divination (1rst semester)

◗ 　6th period - Elective: Care of Magical Creatures (2nd semester)

◗ 　7th period - Core class: History of Magic

◗ 　8th period - Defense Against the Dark Arts

FRIENDS/FAMILY

Family

- Adam Rabon & Lowell Rabon: Adam and Lowell, 38 and 36, are my dads. My parents have been in a loving relationship since Adam was 22 and Lowell was 20. They are in a happy and healthy relationship with each other and will be with each other until death do them part. They are both full-bloods.

- Tobi Rabon: Tobi is my younger brother by 9 years. We have a really strong sibling bond, and my parents adopted him when he was 5 about a year ago.

- Natalie Rabon: Natalie is my aunt on Adam's side. She is a half-blood.

- Aaliyah Haughton: Aaliyah is my aunt on Lowell's side. She is a full-blood.

- 🧸 Fred Weasley: Me and Fred have been friends for 7 years. My family has been longtime customers to the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes in Diagon Alley. We live very close to the Weasley house.

Friends/Other People

- *TB* Benjamin Wadsworth

- *TB* Someone from my OR

- (Mar) Marlon Wayans

SAFETY

- I am immune from any diseases, illnesses/sicknesses, or any other health impairments (such as lice, and etc.)

- My safeword to leave and go to my OR is "Jumanji", I can't forget this safeword.

- 1 second in or = 1 year in dr

- I have a high pain tolerance.

- I can only die from old age.

- I have an infinite amount of money to spend.

- Neither do Harry Potter or he who shall not be named exist in this reality.

They can both take their raggedy petty ass drama to another reality + (disclaimer: I am not talking about Daniel Radcliffe), Harry seems like he'd be super annoying irl. Anyways, side tangent over.

- I have all my desired clothes and accessories.

- Everything in my dr tastes, looks, feels, sounds, and smells 10x better than my or.

So that's the end of the blog. If you want me to go more in-depth about different parts of my script that I left out, pm me, and we'll talk! I'm still trying to figure out Tumblr, so I don't even know if pms are a thing on here. Okay okay I'm done for now. Happy shifting everyone! ☆☆☆

[thatoneluckybee]

TW: Descriptions of violence.

For centuries, she had ruled. The Greatest of Dragonesses... Queen Zyrasso. 

The Queen ruled with an iron talon, hoarding her wealth of knowledge and prophecy. Her scales were embedded with flakes of iron and jewels from her fallen enemies, dragonfolk and human alike. Her ruffled feather collar, her piercing stare, it made her all the more terrifying. The most frightening of all? No creature knew how she did it. Had she torn her enemies limb from limb? Swallowed them whole? Thrown them from the top of her mountain peak? The most likely method was fire, burning her foes to a crisp, leaving not a trace of their body. 

I can recall every bit of horror I felt and every detail of her body. I remember the day I faced her.

Me and my companion, Ziovei, a soldier better trained even than myself, had been sent to test the court mage's newest experiment: fireproof armor. If we survived, we'd be heroes. If we didn't, well, the castle was reasonable enough not to wait for our return longer than a week.

Ziovei was braver than I. He held his sword confidently as we strode into the Queen's lair, his eyes keen. I'm ashamed to say I was, at the time, trembling with fright.

"Zyrasso! Queen of Dragonfolk! Show yourself!" Cried Ziovei.

There was an irritated huff before all light in the cave was quenched. Suddenly, a blue glow emerged in the pattern of scales. Her eyes, eerily relaxed, shone brighter than the skin beneath her reptilian armor. 

"More humans? Please." She laughed, taking a step back. "This is getting boresom. Your kingdom sends, what, six knights a month? Surely they'd leave me be by know."

"We have orders from the castle to slay you." I shouted, praying my voice didn't portray the pounding of my heart and the trembling of my hands.

"Shame. I'd have liked to keep a human as a pet. I suppose it'd be best to kill you quickly."

"Foolish dragon!" Proclaimed Ziovei. "My armor renders me immune to your flames!"

"Foolish knight!” Sneered the dragon. “Not all dragons spit fire!” The dragoness' throat began to glow bright icy white. I screamed, covering my head with my shield. Ziovei shoved me out of the way.

I closed my eyes as tight as I could as I heard the mighty roar of the Dragon Queen... and the sound of rain?

No, not rain. Birdseed. 

I threw my shield to the side, rushing towards Ziovei, meeting his gaze with an equally perplexed expression and he shook birdseed out of his braid. 

"How," he said, looking at the dragoness, "have you become Queen with a power such as this? It's embarrassing."

"I wouldn't be so sure." The Queen said with a grin.

We stood there silently for a moment, before the sound of a wing in the distance caught my attention. The sound of many wings. 

Griffins.

I can't remember all of what happened next. My mind won't let me. All I can see are flashbacks when I close my eyes to rest, and what I remember from nightmares. Ziovei's screams as the savage avians tore at his body, the cackling of the dragoness, the blood splattered across the cave floor. I assume the Queen had mercy on me, for I awoke at the base of the castle, covered in scratches and missing my arm, but alive. 

Zyrasso still rules, as she had for thousands of years. As for us humans?

Well, you now know the reason we are forbidden to explore beyond the forest and into the mountains. And why birdseed is illegal.

“Foolish dragon!” Proclaimed the knight. “My armor renders me immune to your flames!” “Foolish knight!” Sneered the dragon. “Not all dragons spit fire!”

[bonkusdonkus]

So I have a bad habit of coming up with crazy ideas for characters that will probably never fit into any campaign I’m in. I just can’t stop myself!

That’s one of the funnest things about D&D for me, just brainstorming wacky ideas. This is a game that encourages you to do some creative gymnastics while you play, and dang it if I don’t get carried away sometimes.

(I’m also pretty sure I’m not alone either, if what I’ve seen other people in the community say holds any weight, lol.)

So I’m an attempt to get some of these guys out of my brain, I’m gonna vomit some random character ideas I’ve had here. They could be player characters, NPCs, villains, whatever, these are just an assortment of random thoughts I’ve had rolling around in my head. Feel free to steal any ya like, or use them for inspiration for your own ideas or whatever. Or don’t! You do you!

An ancient Dragon has become deeply disillusioned with the world in their old age. They’ve seen how broken it is, and seen how little those with the power to do something about it actually care. They ponder this tragedy, they wonder, and think, and ruminate on it, and somewhere amid all their pondering they slowly begin to lose their grasp on reality, slipping into a fiery haze of fantasy and madness. They transform themselves into a mortal, forgetting their true form, and set out into the world as a noble knight, determined to right all wrongs!

A sentient weapon formed a powerful bond of friendship with their wielder, forged in the fires of battle. But one day, their companion was murdered. But not in battle, like a warrior, no. It was a shameful, treacherous murder. Perhaps they were poisoned, or killed in their sleep. Regardless, the weapon is furious and heartbroken that it could do nothing but watch as it’s friend died, and has sworn to bring the killer ( or killers) to justice. But the only way it can do that, is to possess the empty corpse of their friend.

A powerful Devil (cambion, secubus/incubus, Rakshasa, whatever, take your pick,) disguised themselves as a mortal to seduce a mortal whose alignment can really only be described as Stupid Good, and corrupt them, for kicks and giggles. Just to blow off some steam, ya know? Being a Devil is tough work after all, what’s the point if you can’t toy with some mortals from time to time? But then it uh… Kinda backfired. Because they went and caught for feelings for the dope, and suddenly find themselves being dragged kicking and screaming into a redemption arc, because not even a devil is immune to himbo energy. (Bonus points if some of their old fiendish “colleagues” kidnap their lover, and now they have to go on an adventure to save them, trying to figure out this whole “being a decent person” thing along the way.)

Three Kobold friends all share a dream of being famous bards, one is an amazing musician, one is an incredible dancer, and the last one has a phenomenal singing voice. There’s only one little problem: All of them are extremely shy in one way or another. So, to collectively achieve their dream, and overcome their various insecurities, they hatch (heh) a cunning plan: To work together and become the most famous bard the world has ever seen!… By stacking on top of each other and wearing a robe/trench coat/big fancy clothes to fool people into thinking their a single Dragonborn, with the dancer on the bottom, the musician in the middle, and the singer on top. Truly, a flawless plan.

A mad wizard, in an attempt to sow chaos in an innocent farming community, Used True Polymorph on a dairy cow to turn it into a massive red Dragon! But uh, it kinda backfired. Because instead of going on a rampage like the wizard expected, now that Bessie had sentience she was much more interested in having a chat with the nice farmers who raised her. And their neighbors. And their neighbors neighbors. And their neighbors neighbors neighbors. Basically, instead of creating a dangerous beast, the wizard created the town chatterbox and gossip monger. Perfectly harmless, but a bit of a blabber mouth.

Because of a clerical error in the contract, instead of binding their Warlock into their service, the Patron accidentally magically married them instead. Now, they’re both bound together in unwilling, seemingly unbreakable holy matrimony. Oops! Now the two of them have to work together to break their accidental bond, bickering and bitching the whole time. (Bonus points if they actually do fall in love at some point along the way. What can I say, I’m a sucker for a good enemies to friends to lovers story!)

Kenku twins who both want to cure the Kenku curse, but have diametrically opposed methods. The first is a cleric, and hopes that through faithful service and a worship, they can convince their god to help them find a cure, or just outright remove it. The second is a wizard or artificer, and despises the gods for abandoning them to the curse. They seek to cure the curse through science and magic, believing that the gods can’t be trusted, and that the Kenku must heal themselves, not rely on fickle celestial beings. Though the twins love each other dearly, they’re ideological differences mean they are often often at odds with each other.

A band of pirates follow a treasure map they stole to a tiny abandoned island in the middle of nowhere. They dig in the marked spot, and find a huge chest! But when they open it, instead of a treasure, they find a very confused and very lonely Warforged made entirely out of precious stones!

Adoption is an admirable thing. Not only are you growing your family, you’re reaching to those in need, giving them a loving home. Now, in a world where there are so many different races, interspecies adoption is not unheard of, albeit a little uncommon. That being said, many adventurer or ex-adventurer couples choose to adopt, having found many youngsters in need on their journeys. Though, they tend to bring home some uh…Exotic new family members. Just ask the Lingthrow family, which consists of three Minotaurs, two young dragons, eight Gnolls, four tieflings, an Aasimar, four separate kinds of devil, three orcs, a goblin, two kobolds, a quatl, three Warforged of various designs, two Tabaxi twins, an enlightened horse, five Dragonborn, and two very, very proud retired adventurer parents.

A Kobold Paladin has become utterly convinced that if they do enough good deeds and fight enough evil, they will turn into a Golden Dragon. As cute as that is, no one really takes the little guy too seriously. After all, they’re chasing a fairy tale. Obviously Kobolds can’t turn into dragons… Right?

[prismatic-starstuff]

Been seeing Malenia appreciation and I wanna toss my hat into the ring. Malenia with a s/o who is immune to her rot because they wield the Giants Flame(permanent flame cleanse me spell). They are unusually powerful with their flame, possible giant heritage as they have red hair too. Once when they where fighting together and her s/o thinking she was hurt during a big fight let’s loose. The enemies surrounding her are incinerated to ash and char as her s/o wades through their foes with fire that puts even dragon fire to shame, their form wreathed in fire and even their hair flows like their flames. When they see her they immediately go to her their fiery eyes dimming to embers as they cup her face with their burning hands, not burning but very warm and she even feels her rot receding some as they hold her.”Beloved, are you ok?!”

Oh my god, that's such a cool idea! :0

Honestly, the giants and their flame are such an interesting part of lore, it would've been so cool to get more about them... God, just imagining the awe in Malenia's eyes as she sees her partner ablaze, stunned by their change but utterly amazed, enamored by their beauty... and imagine if they were able to use their abilities to really help with the scarlet rot; it's such a cool concept!

[brackenfrond]

Let’s Talk About Cullen

A controversial topic, but I'm not delving into voice actors and how horrible they can be. I'm talking only about the character Cullen, who I still want to appreciate as a character without the horrid attachment brought by GE. I want to separate GE from Cullen for a minute, so I’ll say it again;

Let’s talk about Cullen.

TW: Mention of rape and self harm. Nothing that is worse than mentioned in ambient dialogue in Dragon Age, but just in case.

Let’s talk about how he grew up in Honnleath, with two sisters and a brother. Honnleath, where a mage retired with immunity granted by Maric, who used his magic to scare people and took joy in it. Who had trapped demons outside of the Fade in his basement. A mage who is exactly what people fear, and Cullen having to live with the knowledge that the man on the edge of his village was bad, because how is scaring his sisters and brother good? Who had listened to the Chantry talk about mages being a threat, about how Templars protect people without magic from the threat. How Cullen joins the Templars to help protect people, because that’s all he ever wanted to do.

Let’s talk about him growing up in training with other recruits. Making friends and rivals. Being a teenager, waiting to finally become a full Templar. Making his family proud. But also hearing the older Templars talk about blood mages, or how that last mage failed their Harrowing. How one was asked to be made Tranquil, or how just last week one jumped out of a window on the higher floors, unable to take it anymore. Laughing at the words ‘the only good mage is a dead one’, but not in humour. The uncomfortable laughter, the one where you feel like you have to join in, but not understanding why it’s so funny. Especially when you play chess once a week with the apprentice you have a soft spot for, when you help get a book from a higher shelf for a little boy who reminds you of your brother.

Let’s talk about how he watched his fellow Templars die in front of him. How they left him alive to watch as they were killed by the mages that they were meant to protect (the only good mage is a dead one), being possessed, and you’re stuck and helpless, denied food and water, left to rot. As all things do, fear turns to hatred, and the visions they taunt you with, eyes that shouldn’t look at you like that, words that shouldn’t be said, do not help. So when help finally comes, you snap and snarl and tell them to kill them, kill them all. Maybe the others were right. Maybe the only good mage is a dead one.

Maybe the apprentice you liked wasn’t kind, would slit their hand with a knife and kill you. Maybe the boy you got the book for is now an abomination, prowling the halls, or dead due to an older mage’s magic.

And then they send you to Kirkwall, the worst place any Templar with PTSD could go.

Let’s talk about that, shall we? Sending Cullen to serve under Meredith, paranoid that blood mages are everywhere, and you believe it. Of course you do, you remember the tower, the mantra that could be true. But here, you see harsher things - you hear of mages who passed their Harrowing being made Tranquil (and that’s against the law, isn’t it? But surely...they’re blood mages, they have to be -), of a boy not much younger than you being followed into his room on a night (and had that happened at Kinloch Hold, but he’d been blind to it? No, no, that can’t be true, it’s just a rumour -), of Alrik’s proposal to turn every mage in Kirkwall tranquil (and that’s ridiculous, it’s so horribly wrong, how could he even think…? He turns up dead in Darktown, papers on his body stating that the motion wouldn’t be passed, so it was a pointless de -). His mantra changes, his thoughts turn to ‘mages are not people’, because if all the horrible things that happened to him mirror what they do to mages - lock them up, imprison them, rape and beat and torture, even if Meredith says it’s for the best - then he has been following a horrible thing for his entire life. Suddenly, he’s not proud anymore. He’s broken apart and bruised inside, and when the Chantry blows up and sides have to be taken, he can’t help but feel relieved when Meredith falls. He sees the boy who was scared of Karras, sees the Champion who had saved them all with fire at their fingertips, sees a Dalish mage and maybe the man who kickstarted it all, eyes wide but furious. He lets them go.

He has a moment to breathe.

And then the sky splits open.

Let’s talk about Cullen.

Let’s talk about the Commander of the Inquisition. Let’s talk about how he is still suffering PTSD, how he still has nightmares about Kinloch Hold and Kirkwall, how he’s trying so hard to be better but is still so terrified of mages that the mere mention of a Magister (blood mage, blood mage, they killed his friends, nearly killed him -) has his hackles rising. He knows his mistrust is without cause, he knows it’s unworthy, but he sleeps and sees Uldred or Meredith, madness in their eyes, and he was tortured by one and nearly killed by the other, hated one and followed the other, and it eats away at him constantly.

So he tries. He plays chess with Dorian, a Tevinter mage who he shouldn’t trust, but he makes nice with him. Finds a friend, maybe, though that might be stretching it too far. He works past the shame in his throat and manages to write to his family, and is relieved when Mia is only annoyed it took him so long to write back, worried about his health. He stops taking lyrium, he leaves the Templars, the order he wanted to join since he was eight, and works on getting out of the addiction forced upon all Templars by the Chantry, and after helps others who have left the order.

Let’s talk about how Cullen isn’t perfect. He’s still scared and distrusts mages, because the niggling fear of ‘what if’ will always be there - ingrained into his mind, and proven correct after Uldred’s revolt. He said things that he no longer believes - not entirely - because he has made friends with mages, and how could them being dead, being less than human, be better than Dorian cheating horribly at chess, or Vivienne cutting down Orlesian’s with a few well placed words?

Let’s say that Cullen isn’t black and white. He isn’t perfect, but he isn’t a monster. He’s so beautifully human, this character, and is there to show that everyone, no matter how old they are, or hurt, no matter who they are, is capable of change.

They just have to be willing to try.

[emerald-amidst-gold]

I'm not immune to the fluff 💖

Hand-holding 32. not really paying attention, both doing something else, but still holding hands Touching 22. falling asleep on the other’s shoulder

AWWW YES! My fluff trap has worked! >:D

Some drabbles! Just for you, friend! <3

Their relationship was confusing for some. Well, most, if Fane was being honest, but he didn't really care what anyone else thought. Not many relationships in this day and age held a candle to what he and Solas had fostered, and that wasn't the fault of those who didn't understand. It was how the world was, and their relationship was complexity incarnate, so confusion was a typical reaction.

And many, many people didn't understand the concept of intimacy in sheer presence. Not all love was shown through acts of intercourse or raw carnal desire. Sometimes, it was as simple as an open palm and a small smile as two hands became as interlocked as a masterwork lock. Even better was when neither party thought of combining tumblers, the act instinctual, the purpose wanted in thought.

And that was very much what depicted their acts of intimacy.

"If I get one more letter from Halamshiral talking about my eyes, I will seriously gouge them out.", Fane growled as said eyes flitted across a piece of parchment; a letter in the most refined and disgusting filigree he had ever seen. He didn't get paid enough for this job.

"I would advise against self mutilation, vhenan.", Solas quipped from beside him, the two of them situated side by side as the mage's desk in the rotunda. His sky was currently reading his own text, but from the view of a small smirk and lax expression, it was far more calming than what Fane was currently having to deal with.

"Just try and stop me.", Fane said with a sneer before flicking the letter away unceremoniously, sighing. "What time is it, anyhow?" It felt late and he knew that because of how his marked hand felt numb and heavier than a dead weight, but also...warm?

"I am unsure.", Solas responded, throwing off his confusion from gentle heat. "The candle is worn down to about half, so I would hazard a guess and say close to midnight." The assessment even, concise, even as the voice that sounded them held the desire to sleep in its lilt.

Fane blinked. "Midnight?", he balked, the mage only letting out a hum in affirmation. "By anything that's holy, Solas, why didn't you--", he went to raise his left hand to pinch the bridge of his nose in exasperation, but found that it was...heavy? And again, warm? "What the..? Why are we holding hands?", the question slow as his gaze shot straight down to their loosely joined hands and then back up and then back down.

When had they interlocked?

Solas let out an airy chuckle, his head lulling to the side, eyes picking up from his book to give him a look that said, 'Truly?' before the hand adjoined to his own gave a light squeeze.

"Truthfully, I don't know the answer to that question.", Solas admitted, looking down at their joined hands, too with a small smile. "Perhaps it was merely instinctive. I find myself reaching for you without thinking.", more admittance falling like the freshest rain upon a warm brick.

"Do you now?", Fane teased as he looked back up to gaze into the only sky he would ever know from now until the end. Solas hummed, lifting his head back up, the same small smile still in place.

"I do.", he said without hesitation before something akin to shame flashed into blue and grey, blessed warmth beginning to unravel with his slightly larger appendage. "But I can stop if you--"

Fane shook his head, cutting Solas off. "Don't start with that.", he admonished, pulling the retreating hand back to entwine them tighter together before picking up the next letter in his small pile. "You can hold it for as long as you want, my sky.", he said before shifting his gaze away from slightly wide orbs. "...And you're not the only one who finds themselves reaching out. You beckon for the dragon above to land, and I yearn to draw the sky near. So, don't worry about making me uncomfortable because I'm anything but that."

Heat blazed across his cheeks as the words left his mouth, intensely screwing his eyes on the letter in his free hand, but not retaining any of the words. Damn it all! Why did he always get so flustered?! He was just saying the normal shit he always did! So, why did it--!

"Thank you, my dragon.", the words of gratitude sounding like a literal prayer as the voice that uttered them dropped to a reverent whisper, the hand around his reinforcing its grip around his own like molten silverite. "Thank you.."

Fane huffed out an amused breath of air, giving his molten encasing a reciprocating squeeze, further solidifying the bond between them.

"No, thank you. For everything."

****

The Emprise du Lion was cold, that much was a given, but wasn't so bad for Fane. Two layers of fur was more than enough to keep him comfortably warm. Anymore than that and he would melt, his inner core still inherently the same as the one he had possessed as a dragon.

However, others were far less fortunate. Namely, a creature, that for all intents and purposes, should have insulated fur of their own.

"Cold?", Fane asked plainly as he meandered his way over to where Solas was sitting on the log by the fire of the Inquisition's latest reclaimed camp, face calm, but a light shudder through strong, but slender shoulders betrayed the true state of his sky.

"Not terribly.", Solas responded easily, but subtly tried to shift his furs around so as not to make Fane aware. Sadly, keen observational skills and a pinpointing nature were his aces in this particular deck of veiled strength.

"You're cold.", Fane stated matter of fact, stretching one long leg over the log to plop down next to his sky, chuckling a bit when a lightly shivering form instinctively leaned into his own, seeking warmth. "How you think you can hide shit from me is a mystery."

Solas chuckled, actively resting his head against one of his fur pauldrons with a quiet, but content sigh. Fane only rolled his eyes, smirking. For an elf that prided himself on keeping a poised and reserved demeanor, he sure did crumble when around him. Though, that was exactly what Fane sought every time he and Solas managed to get some time alone.

"Old habits are hard to kill, ma'isenatha. Ir abelas.", Solas murmured from where he was nestled on his shoulder, the sun setting in sky-like orbs as they shut, blocking out the orange glow from the fire before them. "It is simply more frigid than I expected."

"I imagine for you, it is.", Fane murmured back, rolling his head to the side to rest it against the top of Solas', who let out another, more tired sigh in response. "Tired, too?" It was a foolish question, he knew, but he was trying to use his voice more. Even if to state the obvious.

Solas nodded a bit. "The red lyrium is especially potent here. It makes it hard to concentrate, thus I expend more energy pulling magic through the Veil.", he explained, no longer shivering form coming closer to where their knees were touching. Fane didn't even flinch, the layers of his armor and cloak making his scars blessedly numb.

"Then sleep.", Fane ordered softly, lightly nuzzling his cheek against the mage's head. "I've been asking a lot of you these last two months, so rest. I'll take first watch." He wasn't going to be sleeping anytime soon, anyways. The red lyrium was causing him issues as well. Murmurs in the back of his mind, and echoes of blackness with crimson lights in the distance making it hard to keep his rage in check.

"No, that is unfair on--", Solas began to protest, as per usual, but Fane silenced him with a growl and with a jerk of his arm, fluttering out his cloak to wrap it around his stubborn wolf. The reaction was instantaneous as the mage practically melted into his side with a truly exhausted sigh.

"Go to sleep, you old fool.", Fane said, leaning down a bit to lay a light kiss to a lax temple. "I'm fine. The cold doesn't bother me, and neither does less than two hours of sleep. So, relax and dream." Solas needed the rest more than he did, and he would grant him that.

The mage sighed. "I do wish you would stop calling me that.", the words slurred with approaching sleep, but still held gentle teasing in silk.

Fane shrugged, lightly so as not to jostle Solas too much. "I state what I know.", he said. "And you're old."

"You are older than I.", his sky replied, inching closer and closer to the Fade as his form leaned into him more, the cheek buried in his fur going lax as usually calm breathing slowed even more. Fane smiled a bit at that, bringing his emerald cloak in more to shield his wolf from soft gusts of chilly air.

"Only by about two thousand years. Give or take.", he quipped quietly before laying another soft kiss to Solas' temple. "Now, shut up for once, and sleep. You can glare and raise your eyebrow at me later." Solas only let out a noncommittal hum at his words before Fane saw his face go completely lax, sleep wrapping around a tenacious mind like how his cloak was his physical body.

Fane smile a bit more. "Sleep well, my sky.", he whispered in a voice he only reserved for the one of utmost devotion. "Ar lath ma.", unusual Elvhen rolling from his tongue as he repositioned his head to lightly rest it against the top of Solas' again.

And sadly, he missed the tender smile that rarely graced a stoic face, his words reaching far past the boundaries of the Veil, the Fade, and perhaps, even the Void. The sky would rest in the wings of a dragon. No matter where their mind would take them for their heart, their soul, knew what the mind sometimes did not.

[readbythestarlight]

c2e128

On hi Gale!

"Boyfriend? Ugh!" xD

I NEED THE SHIRT IMMEDIATELY

Oh lord here we go.........

Oh Jesus okay here we go

I’m worried about Caleb here. Just, being faced with Trent like this, in this place especially, and being back in a corner

[[MORE]]

Goddddddddd

SHIT

god I’m shaking

Counterspell counterspell

God RUN YOU FOUR RUN

Someone hug him

FUCK OFF IKATHON

HOW IS HE DOING THIS

Using message?

"I don’t know if I’m ready to talk to you yet"

No babes he’s not talking to you

Fuck you Trent

Veth being surprised they actually succeeded Lol

Give one to Essek plz

Attunment sigh

Veth honey do you not have a key to the house

Fuck OFF TRENT

I’m going to crawl through my screen and tear him apart

Oh no

Now the assembly is gonna be after them for sure

Carrots are immune to scrying it’s canon

Also fuck they shouldn’t have gone to Veth’s house

Caleb... babe......

Fuck now he knows about the

Oh no

"I have my theories about where you might have learned" don’t TOUCH my other boy Trent I WILL personally fuck you up

And he knows about Vess too great

YES be worried for Essek

Please check on him

Caleb is shaking so bad

Babe

And now if something happens to Essek Caleb will blame himself for that this is NOT what I want

Okay good, good, reassure him

"I am responsible for your family. And yours. And you."

"And I worry... that I am... the very thing he told me I was."

"Not yet. Not yet."

"You did good. You got what we needed."

Good, reassure him.

Oh no she did talk about her mom to the guard fuck

"He was looking at you with puppy dog eyes?"

"Oh my god Fjord he loved me so much."

Jester is gonna send her to the Gentleman xD

"I think we’ve done enough damage today." Taliesin xD

Okay seriously huh Caleb please

Also I’m Shadowgast trash so I hope something comes from this

One to all family members and then one for Essek good

Hn I get Fjord’s point tho being near the ocean isn’t good for him personally

Veth and Yeza are literally just so wholesome and cute

Divine Intervention okayyyy

Artagan left her on read lol

Awww Yasha talking to the Stormlord

Whatcha so nervous about, babe?

Jester trying to help Yasha out is so sweeeeeet

Artagan is SUCH a dork I love him

Oh no

It’s THOSE crystals

Caleb is fucked UP right now y’all need to take care of this boy

God this is fucked up fucking fuck

Genuinely when is it going to be time to kill Trent

Taliesin xD

I miss whispers pandemic will be over WHEN

Awwwww god I love their reunions

Oh god poor Marion

I hate this

"What have you done?"

Noooooo

"I’m not angry I’m just—I just worry about you."

I’m crying it’s fine

We stan supportive family members

Uncle Caleb

Fjord you dork xD

Be careful Blud buddy

Oh Fjord, what have you done you goober

Anyway I’m nervous about those two

I need to sleep ugh

Anyway can we briefly talk about how Veth is apparently planning to leave the group after Aeor

Not that I can blame her but that’s gonna be SAD

Anyway I’m glad they’re gonna take a calm "let’s talk to them" approach

"Making’ my way downthestairs" I love how they always burst into that song

Ooooo Jester going in disguise as mom, that could be risky

Stop fucking calling him Bren

Wait

Astrid??

Is it Astrid and Wulf??

Holy shit and they’re WARNING him??

Oh god oh god oh fuck

This is bad

"Trent is, um... frustrated" Trent can choke

"And I hope we don’t meet again."

They’re helping him and I’m baffled yet glad

Oh man... poor Jester, she’s gonna be so upset with herself for mentioning her mom

I know Cad doesn’t go for it, but I’m gonna forever believe Wulf has a bit of a crush on Cad

They’re helping Caleb specifically which is giving me some hardcore feelings

Blud should go with them too if he wants, he can help keep Marion safe

Also god I can’t wait for the Gentleman to open the door and see all this happen

Who is it who is

Oh another one?? How are Astrid and Wulf going to lie about being there if there’s a

Mother FUCKER I KNEW IT

Veth honey be careful

Don’t go in don’t go in they WILL catch you

Okay good

Time to GO

I hate the idea of splitting up but time to go time to GO

God I’m so fucking stressed

I hope Yussah is willing to help them

And NOW we go to break

L: "we’ve played this game for years! It’s make believe! I’m so scared!!"

They can track Yeza, and also probably Marion

Please Yussah be willing to help them I’m begging

Wentsworth is a good boy at least I like him

How is Marion?? Is she okay?

Oh sweetie

Hardcore agoraphobia poor dear

Caduceus you’re such a sweetheart

Also Cad is scared too he sounds so tense

He’s in the

He’s out of town?

HE’S GONE DRAGON HASNT HE

He

He went to the WHAT

I love that he’s trying to help I guess but that makes me vaguely nervous

Aw not dragon, what a shame

Oh sure Jester there’s no way THAT could go wrong

If y’all get Yussah’s tower fucked up he’s gonna be so pissed

Using unknown magic is probably not your smartest choice rn

Wait can’t Beau just read any language? I thought that was a monk thing

Okay okay okay

I really wanted Blud to come with them :(

Plane shift oh dear

Y’all don’t need to plane shift how will you get back again??

Can y’all then get back after resting?

And it’s not even big enough for all of them

And also like they could just end up getting stuck fighting things they don’t have spells for

Caleb shut the fuck up

Thank you for putting that down immediately, Cad and Veth

Sewers gross

Why don’t you all just go to the sewers and hide out and get to a ship and go

I don’t like splitting up I don���t like splitting up I don’t like splitting up!!

Like they’d be split up for at least a few days right? And I don’t like it

Hide them in the ball???

I was thinking that, Veth! Not that it’s a good idea but I just so hate splitting up

fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck I’m so STRESSED

oh fuck

FUCK

NO

Who is at the DOOR

Right it’s like reverse Narnia

No Matt now you’re backwards xD

They’ve all confused themselves now with the time ball

So you’re gonna send the family to the fire plane instead??

Fuck fuck fuck GO

Yussah’s gonna be so pissed if someone breaks into his tower because of them while he’s looking for answers for him

Aw Fjord’s and Jester’s little goodbye “be safe” moment

Fuckfuckfuck

I’m so fucking stressed

Can y’all believe the happy fun ball has become such a useful thing?

FUCKING NO

NOOOOO

NOOOOOOO BITCH

Goddddddd

I can’t breathe

“It’s like Rolf in Sound of Music” except Rolf betrayed them

I’m SCARED y’all god like I’m literally so stressed out

Is it Thursday yet??

God I hope Yussah is safe and that the Assembly doesn’t hurt him or steal any of his stuff

And Wentsworth too

[stovmborn-arc]

𝐃𝐀𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐍 & 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐒.

**   this meta contains book, show and personal headcanons following daenerys’ relationship with her dragons. one thing that really stands out to me in the show is that the dragons are literally used as weapons of war, rather than maintaining the relationship that daenerys had displayed with them during the earlier books. yes, they will help her win the seven kingdoms but they are her children, instead of ways of winning battles. crafted and constructed over lots of heartbreak with the help of daisy over on @perzyr​  ( a literal living dragon encyclopaedia )  so please go and give some love with a follow for top quality dragon lore & content. it’s going to be a long one so if you do read this then get comfortable. i will always reference and inform my writing partners of any important details regarding the dragons, should they be of any relevance to our plots or threads.  give that like button a   ♡   if you do read this  –-–  just so i know   !!!

◈        first things first, daenerys is not immune to fire. although in the show, she does not suffer any injuries from the funeral pyre in which she burns drogo, she is given the name of the unburnt because of emerging from the the flames alive, not unscathed. the hatching and birth of drogon, rhaegal and viserion was incredibly unique, a miracle even. three petrified eggs were placed into the pyre of her husband and dragons returned to the world for the first time in centuries. in the books, she loses her hair as a result of being within the flames and much like any other human, sustains at least some injuries. as a targaryen, she can tolerate high levels of heat and resist the pain of being burnt for a short while but too much time in fire can be severely damaging. albeit receiving wounds, they are quick healing given the magic in her valyrian blood. ◈        there is a level of understanding between daenerys and each of her children. although she cannot physically speak to them, there is a bond that she believes cannot be broken between her, drogon, rhaegal and viserion despite eventually becoming drogon’s rider. the bond she forms with them is one that grows with the time she spends nurturing them. to form a closeness, she cooks their meat as they are only babies and even speaks to them in valyrian. daenerys does not only rely on them for warmth but for comfort at times where she is feeling uncertain of the path ahead. dragon cuddles are a thing, it is known. cradling them in her arms, letting them huddle around her and sharing warmth with them, she attempts to create a physical bond between herself and her children. viserion is known for curling up on dany’s chest in particular. whilst drogon and rhaegal tend to occupy themselves more in play, viserion can be found by daenerys’ side as she reads. rather than caging them, daenerys ensures that they have their own safe space they can return to where they are free  –-–  their own sanctuary almost unless they are travelling. she allows them to fly above her and the khalasar along the red waste but also has a horses cart in which she places them when they grow tiresome.  ◈        when it comes to the chaining of viserion and rhaegal, daenerys is at odds with herself. beginning to lose control of drogon and learning that yunkai has returned to their old ways, a weight rests upon her shoulders. jorah mormont has too recently betrayed her and so, daenerys feels control slipping from her fingers. remembering that she is still young and somewhat naive ( despite being a queen ), an overwhelming amount of guilt falls upon her as the body of a child is brought before her claiming that  ‘the winged shadow’  was responsible. whilst it is suggested that the death has been caused by the masters in a bid to shame her, daenerys decides that it is a risk she simply cannot take. grudges have been held against her ancestors for the pain they instilled upon their own dragons, confining them to a pit. her liberation of slavers bay has been dedicated to freeing people of their chains and yet, she finds herself submitting to exactly what those of house targaryen did many years prior in the dragon pits. with a heavy heart, she makes a temporary measure to confine them below the great temple though, it is not as simple as what the show depicts it to be and instead, she faces a struggle.

◈        ❝  once, not long ago, she had ridden on her shoulder, her tail coiled around her arm. once she had fed her morsels of charred meat from her own hand. she had been the first chained up. daenerys had led her to the pit herself and shut her up inside with several oxen. once she had gorged herself, she grew drowsy. they had chained her whilst she slept.  ❞   –-–   the capture of viserion, her smallest and youngest baby. having to lead viserion into the pits personally, it felt as though she was leading viserion astray. an immediate guilt resides within daenerys, knowing that it is only her who has the power to bring viserion into the pit, it felt as though daenerys was leading her to her own demise. she had been named for viserys, the very person who had bargained with her freedom and now, she has in turn, chained the dragon she had named after him into a slave. ◈        ❝  rhaegal had been harder. perhaps he could hear his sister raging in the pit, despite the walls of brick and stone between them. in the end, they had to cover him with a net of heavy iron chain as he basked on her terrace, and he fought so fiercely that it had taken three days to carry him down the servants’ steps, twisting and snapping. six men had been burned in the struggle.  ❞   –-–   the capture of rhaegal, her most stubborn and defiant child. following the tales of rhaegar, she knew that rhaegal would not go down without a fight, though she did not anticipate the difficulty that would come with it. knowing of the struggle that he puts up, it only stirs more distress within daenerys, a sense of grief she has not felt before. watching the struggle increases her guilt and she cannot face rhaegal, employing members of the unsullied instead to lure him to the pits as she cannot bring herself to face him beneath iron nets. ◈        there are many occasions in which daenerys struggles to live with the decision that she has succumbed to the very thing her ancestors did and in an attempt to quell her own sadness and keep a bond with viserion and rhaegal during drogon’s disappearance, pays visits to them in the pits. though on one occasion, one lunges towards her as teeth snap in darkness, daenerys barely able to make out what is happening. the only thing that saves her is the fiery breath in which viserion releases, lighting a path so that she is able to quickly flee from what turns out to be an attack from rhaegal. the time he has spent in darkness has shaped his vision of his mother, stirring a rage inside of him ( not only for himself but for his sister ). paying mind to the devastation that she has bestowed upon her children, the pit is sealed abruptly once more and daenerys is left with a raincloud lingering above her. she had named viserion to do what her brother could not  –-–  protect her and that was exactly what viserion attempted to do as a fire lit within rhaegal’s throat, ready to engulf their mother as punishment. ◈        when the fighting pits are reopened during her wedding to hizdahr zo loraq and the sons of the harpy attack, drogon is lured to daznak’s fighting pits by the noise and the smell of blood. no whip is used to berate him or mount him and instead, the bond that formed between them is returned to her eyes as she looks at him in fear. she pulls a spear from his side, teeth bared as he lets out a scream of pain, though he soon realises it is his mother. it is within that moment that she remembers she is the mother of dragons and instead, takes to climb atop of him where she is carried to safety and taken to his lair in the dothraki sea where he has been living in his absence. falling ill and growing weak after eating wild berries and the scraps that drogon has left behind, daenerys begins to hallucinate. not only does she have visions of quaithe and the message she has delivered but she dreams of her children too, chained and betrayed by their own mother. it is in these visions that the impact of her actions begin to stir inside of her, realising that her children were never the monsters but instead, it was her.

◈        freed by tyrion, daenerys and her children take to the skies to defend meereen which is under siege at the hands of yunkai, astapor and volantis who are adamant in ending her ‘reign’. whilst this might not necessarily be a moment of rejoice and destruction for rhaegal and viserion, it is the first time in which they have been free from the pits beneath the temple in which they had been chained. viserion flies in out of loyalty to her mother ( and feeling somewhat responsible for having been chained ) as rhaegal follows closely behind, having grown protective of his sister. following the victory, daenerys dedicates most of her time in making amends to her children she has betrayed and willingly chained. 

◈        with viserion, she takes baskets of apples having known it is her favourite food and sits upon clifftops, reading to her in an attempt to salvage the bond they had. she tells her tales of the dragons that lived centuries before them, teaching her of dragonstone and the history of house targaryen’s reign in kings landing, on occasion also speaking in high valyrian. it takes weeks in order to strengthen what she had severed and at times, has to sit with her back to viserion to provide her with some comfort. each day that passes, she inches slightly further forward until one day, realises that viserion is wrapped around her  –-–  too big to now curl around her neck like she had done as a child. at first, when daenerys goes to touch her, she realises that rhaegal is scared ( particularly if her neck is touched from where she almost strangled herself, worried for her mothers safety as the sons of the harpy erupted within the fighting pits ). instead, she makes contact by scratching at her nuzzle, allowing her palm to stroke between her nostrils until she reaches up to the point between her eyes. 

◈        with rhaegal, the process is a much longer and difficult one. as noted in the words of barristan selmy, he was always the more aggressive dragon and quite often, became possessive over things such as food. when attempting to rebuild the bond she had with rhaegal, daenerys ensures to bring him extra meat and cooks it herself, starting a fire and charring it before retreating further away. there is little she can do in terms of comforting rhaegal and for the first couple of weeks, sits with him in silence knowing that no words can convince him of how she believed she was doing what was best for meereen. on one occasion, rhaegal snaps at daenerys, pinning her down to the point of almost crushing her. it is a cry from viserion that tears rhaegal away, the sadness within her windpipe causing him to leave daenerys and fly off elsewhere to escape from his mother. on her next visit, she ensures that viserion is there, becoming aware of the protective instinct he feels for his sister. eventually, daenerys attempts to create toys and little playful games like she did as they were babies. this consists of making balls of ribbon, much bigger than what they once were as drogon joins them too, living in the memories they did when the three of them were newly hatched. the trust between rhaegal and daenerys has never fully returned to what it once was, though she notices that tyrion’s presence instils a sense of calm within him  –-–   one she has not seen before. it fills her with sadness, having named him for her brother who died on the green banks of the trident, daenerys had hoped she might feel a closeness to rhaegal out of the connection he holds with rhaegar and yet, this will never happen. though, she knows she only has herself to blame. 

𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋.

◈        following the chaos in daznak’s pits and realising that spears ( although not deadly ) can cause damage and hurt to a dragon, daenerys readies her dragons to have armour as she prepares to sail for westeros. it is not full body armour but more so protective layers that shape around their throats and shoulders. shed skin is used to form a second layer of scales, used for measurements too. a saddle is also made for drogon, simply to make things safer and to provide him with more comfort as she rides him. more details are later added to their armour using dragonglass mined from the caves of dragonstone. 

◈        it is suggested by some that to maintain a relationship between her and the dragons, so that they accept her as their ruler, daenerys uses a whip to control them. when she acquires the unsullied, daenerys is seen mocking the masters by tossing the whip that master krazyns provides her with to the ground. and if this does not promote her attitude towards cruelty and control, i don’t know what does. as much as she would like to be able to tame her dragons, she understands that they are creatures as smart as she. they have their own mind, their own will and it cannot be bent or controlled. she does not use a whip or any kind of weapon to command them but instead, relies on the physical and mental bond that she has instead as a means of trying to show them what is right from wrong. the first time when this is questioned however, is when she locks rhaegal and viserion in the pits below her pyramid. 

◈        if more eggs were to come into her possession, daenerys would not be so hasty in attempting to hatch them. she knows that it was a miracle for her own eggs to hatch and would not rush to do so but rather, let the dragon insides grow until they are ready. as she did with drogon, rhaegal and viserion, she would spend time with them and attempt to bond with them. the difference this time around however, is that any babies will have older dragons to look up to    –-–  to nurture them and daenerys would rely especially upon viserion having shared such a tight knit bond with her since she was small enough to fit in her palm. 

◈        if either rhaegal or viserion showed interest in allowing another rider, it would not bother daenerys so much, providing that the person they had shown an inclination to was somebody she too trusts. the dragons and daenerys share a bond ( even if it was severed when she betrayed their trust ) but they have seen many people enter and leave their mothers life. some lost to war and protecting their queen, others with ulterior motives. the dragons have a good judge of character, particularly drogon and viserion who daenerys shares the closest bonds with, simply from the consistent contact and affection they keep. daenerys’ feelings and reactions to things rub off on drogon and viserion, with thanks to the emotional and physical connection she shares with them. rhaegal too is capable of picking up on his mothers emotions, though he usually only acknowledges them if they are of threat to viserion. 

[ravnicaforgoblins]

Ravnica for Goblins

More Awesome NPCs of Ravnica

NPCs are one of the most important tools in a DM’s campaign. Your assorted guards, informants, bartenders, hench-persons, random civilians, and, of course, your quest-givers. Optimistically, you hope to have certain NPCs stick around for a while to have the party build a relationship with them, as opposed to getting murder-hobo-ed because your party doesn’t like their attitude. Which is why it’s so great that Ravnica is filled with cool NPCs who are definitely stronger than your party (for a while)!

A couple notes; I already did a list of Awesome NPCs, focusing on the Ladies of Ravnica, so this time I thought I’d try and give the boys (and Melek) some spotlight. Secondly, as I’ve by now made annoyingly apparent, I’m focusing on characters in the modern era of Ravnica, i.e. after the Decamillennial, because everything before the Decamillennial is a nightmare to figure out and you don’t need that headache.

Tajic, Blade of the Legion

You can’t have the Boros without Tajic. Well, you can, but you don’t want to. Tajic is the Legion’s Champion as well as their Mazerunner, and embodies all the ideals the Legion stands for. Unity, strength, passion; an unbreakable shield against all who would threaten Ravnica’s citizens. He is technically considered a Firefist, but special considerations should be made to give him the flavor he really deserves. Both of Tajic’s MTG cards have had some manner of protection against damage when involving other creatures. In addition, Firefists are actually primarily spellcasters, whereas Tajic is never seen without a blade in his hand or his name. So, to sum up, take a Firefist, add in some manner of damage resistance or even immunity contingent upon having allies present, throw in a weapon trick or two for his big wavy sword, and ta-da! You’ve got Tajic!

Momir Vig, Simic Visionary

I know I said no pre-Decamillennial, but Momir Vig is a special case. Technically, the former Guildmaster is dead, but the shadow of his reign still lingers over the Simic Combine. Momir Vig symbolizes everything Ravnica fears about the Combine; progress without restraint. Vig’s cytoplasts were oozes designed for personalized evolution in subjects to correct flaws and deficiencies (regrowing lost limbs, bolstering weakened immune systems, extra brain cells, etc). The only problem is that the project worked so well that Vig stopped seeing the need for consent, creating a new form of cytoplast that only needs to touch a host to bond with it. This raised some understandable concerns among Ravnican citizens, as well as the other Guilds. These concerns went to 11 when Vig’s Project Kraj, a gargantuan organism composed of thousands of cytoplasts, was activated to purge Ravnica and start over with a fresh slate. They went to a further 12 when Vig was killed, Project Kraj summoned every cytoplasm back to it (maiming, crippling, or killing a large number of hosts), and proceeded to go on a rampage that only ended after it ate Rakdos and went into a coma.

Momir Vig is exactly the kind of mad scientist to escape the grave, go underground, and continue his research unimpeded until it’s ready. A Rogue Guildmaster with no boundaries, or as we like to call it, a ready-made Big Bad.

Melek, Izzet Paragon

As with Vig, Melek is canonically dead, but that sort of “dead” that could conceivably be temporary if the story requires it. Melek is a Weird designed by Niv-Mizzet himself to be the Izzet Mazerunner. A certain sparkmage had other ideas however, so he absorbed the sentient being of pure elemental energy into himself at the start of the Maze and took its place, then tried to shock the other runners to death because, you know, winning. But following the physics principle that energy cannot be created or destroyed, only changed into a different form, it’s believable that Melek could return someday. Probably with a grudge against said sparkmage. Melek is a fascinating build, combining high-level spellcasting with complete elemental resistance or possibly even immunity. Basically, a wizard who can tank. Even more intriguing, any lab run by a being composed of pure energy would be calibrated to channel said energy, possibly allowing short-range teleportation within said lab. This is a brilliant exercise in lair mechanics, so don’t hold back. Lest we forget Melek is a personal project of the Firemind, aka, the single most brilliant, powerful, and egocentric fire-breathing ancient dragon wizard in Ravnican history.

Tomik Vrona, Distinguished Advokist

Given the Orzhov Syndicate’s seeming fascination with being a faceless hierarchy of priests, lawmages, ghosts, tax collectors, etc; it’s nice to have another face with a name. Tomik Vrona is a lawmage who apprenticed under Teysa Karlov herself, making him a master of Ravnican law. It also makes him uncharacteristically open to relationships with other Guilds, as he is effectively Teysa’s link to the outside world during her imprisonment. Tomik carries a strong respect for the law, but is a passionate lover of interesting & creative loopholes. In short, he’s not inherently evil/greedy like most of the Syndicate, but still has ambition in spades. He prefers to use gargoyles for transportation, treasures every book he owns, and is canonically dating/living with that hot-tempered sparkmage mentioned previously. Whether the relationship is public or not is up to you. I personally see it as a measure of trust between the NPCs and the party; it’s a pretty controversial pairing of Guilds. It could even be a Romeo & Juliet (Julio?) kind of affair, just putting that out there.

Vorel of Hull Clade

If Momir Vig represents the dark side of the Simic Combine’s experiments, Vorel represents the infinite possibility they can offer. A former Gruul shaman, he made the decision to give up a piece of his clan’s territory to a Boros Legion garrison to better fortify their home turf, and was nearly killed when they turned on him for perceived cowardice. Vorel escaped and joined the Combine, where he was given Merfolk traits and an environment that embraced his ideas & strategic thinking. Vorel is extremely grateful to his new Guild, and believes himself to be an example of how anything is possible through the Simic, no matter one’s origins. His strong passion & drive have led to great breakthroughs, but he’s definitely more emotionally-driven than most Simic researchers. Here is a Biomancer that isn’t afraid to get dirty or bloody in combat. This could be a fun experiment in crafting a Simic Melee Weapon.

Tolsimir Wolfblood, Ledev Guardian

You know that one leader elf in fantasy stories who everyone else takes orders from but never fights themselves? Yeah, this isn’t that elf. This is what you wish that elf was, a warrior archer who leads his soldiers into battle atop a giant dire wolf and kicks some serious ass. The Ledev are Selesnya’s elite mounted force, skilled fighters, archers, swordsmen, and even spellcasters. They are the cavalry, the breaking dawn on Hornburg, the “oh shit” in an enemy’s mouth. Please don’t make the mistakes of countless fantasy novels by being on bad terms with such badass warriors. Having any member of the Ledev behind you should be a boost to the party’s courage & resolve. Having Tolsimir fight alongside you should be one of the greatest honors of your life. The chance to finally recreate that “besties” relationship between Legolas & Gimli as you see who can kill the most enemies in battle.

Domri Rade, City Smasher

I hesitate to include Domri, I genuinely do. He’s a scraggly little punk who nearly brought about the destruction of the Gruul (and all of Ravnica) ultimately because he was too weak and too stupid. I include him here out of respect for the lore, but you can honestly do better. Domri Rade was considered too small & weak for any Gruul clan, so he instead bonded with the savage animals of the Rubblebelt, eventually discovering he could incite them into stampedes at will. This new power finally granted him admission into Borborygmos’ own Burning Tree Clan, but he panicked during the burial rite of passage and planeswalked away for the first time. Eventually he learned to control his powers, returned to the Rubblebelt, challenged Borborygmos for leadership of the Burning Tree clan, and won by sending wave after wave of stampeding boars to trample the cyclops Guildmaster. He was enlisted by Nicol Bolas to help destroy Ravnica, and failed to realize that meant him too as an eternal ripped out his Planeswalker Spark, killing him. Domri Rade is basically a cheap knockoff of Garruk Wildspeaker, only smaller and weaker and dumber and infinitely less dangerous. He is, however, considered by many to be an omen of the End-Raze, heralding the return of the Boar God Ilharg and the burning down of Ravnica by the Gruul who follow the Old Ways. So maybe play up that angle if you include him in your campaign.

Ral Zarek, Izzet Viceroy

If you only include one NPC from any of my lists in your Ravnica campaign, you must include Ral Zarek. Failing to do so is denying your players the opportunity to interact with the single coolest character in Ravnica. He beats out Vraska for the sole reason that he’s a much more public & accessible figure than the Gorgon Assassin, and an unexpected encounter with him is significantly less likely to end in your death/petrification. Between his good looks, cocky grin, brilliant mind, and lightning powers that put Thor to shame; Ral is certain to make any situation more interesting. He’s a great contact to have within the Izzet, a brilliant researcher, extremely talented with designing gadgets or magic items, an astonishingly powerful magic user, and a fun guy to hang around with. He can definitely have a temper on him, so understand when to back away. Hint: His hair turns from black to white when his electromancy powers are activating. You’ll also probably notice the sounds of static discharge building up around him, perhaps a faint smell of ozone, crackling energy coming from his gauntlet, and, oh yeah, his eyes glow and his smile turns into a growling grimace of death as he fills you with lightning. Whether by design or accident, Ral is basically the mascot for Ravnica, and it’s almost unthinkable for him to be absent from a campaign set there.

[the-siren-and-the-sailor]

A story written by me and my little brother!

THIS TOOK MONTHS! INTERACTIONS, ESPECIALLY REBLOGS, ARE HIGHLY APPRECIATED!

“Now, hold it at an angle… there, that is perfect. You are a natural, Mal gein,” the woman helped her son adjust his hands, so that his dagger was properly positioned on the sharpening stone. She had a sword in her own hand, and used it to further demonstrate the way it was done.

He slowly turned the tiny blade from side to side, his eyes fully trained on it in childish wonder. Sparks flew off the wheel haphazardly and Spear giggled at the flashy sight. His mother, however, looked after him worriedly. She was not surprised when his finger slipped and nicked the blade, quickly snatching a bandage as he began to cry.

She gently shushed him, taking his hand and wrapping it in the cloth. He started apologizing through tears, but she once again quieted him.

“It’s alright, mal kendov, there is no shame in pain. That is why the gods gave us loved ones. To unify us and to lift one another up. Never forget this.”

~*~

Iýa looked the sleeping Daphne over from atop her starry perch with pity. “Struck by lightning at sea, I’m afraid. You were right to bring her here, Leonora. Let me see what I can do…” With this, she held Daphne and ran a glowing hand over her scales. The blistering burn slowly began to melt away, and Daphne’s eyes fluttered open.

Upon recognizing her surroundings, she squirmed in her mother’s arms and began to cry. She didn’t know why she was crying, exactly. Perhaps it was the way her sister had told on her mistake, or the way her mother looked at her regardless.

Either way, Iýa held her through every moment of it, crooning a lullaby in her ear and assuring her she was safe and loved. And whether Daphne believed it or not, it was the truth.

~*~

Trouble had begun to brew in the east, and the envy of the first man blew the growing storm westward. He stole a star from the Fair Folk’s skies, a great blasphemy against them and their Goddess of the sparkling Night.

While Asem was powerful to an egregious degree, the Fae still felt it necessary to push back against the man’s arrogance. This led them to go to their Goddess and make a wish.

But while the crown of Asem began to fracture his family and kingdom, the Fae’s wish had already been set in motion. Stories began to fly of monsters in the woods beyond the Faerie trading ports. Sailors would return, describing massive men as tall as trees, covered with midnight fur.

Those that knew waited with baited breath. Asem’s sin had brought him to justice all on its own, and yet the beasts made to destroy him already existed. The Fae only hoped to now hide these frightful children they had created…

~*~

Daphne sneakily slipped behind a pillar of sandstone, warily watching her back. Out of the corner of her eye, a pale pink fin darted out of view. Caught.

She would’ve laughed if it weren’t for the pressing need to not be detected. But did that poor pallid mergirl think she was being secretive in her attempts to win the match? The princess certainly hoped not, for the girl’s sake. In any case, she tapped her hand against the wall, and an icy open clip appeared around it.

With this, she allowed herself to let slip a quiet giggle and darted away behind another pillar. She coiled herself around it and promptly turned herself into pure water, so that she was effectively invisible.

Just as she had hoped, the pinky girl swam around the pillar, and was disappointed to find the princess wasn’t there. Daphne flicked her wrist, causing the clasp to snap around the girl’s tail, trapping her and making her yelp.

Revealing herself, Daphne resumed her tail, cackled like a witch, a shot ahead to claim the final prize. She snatched the flag, waving it excitedly to show off to her fellow competitors. They swam out from their hiding places, arms crossed and brows furrowed, and threw joking insults her way.

“How do you keep doing it, you wench, you?” One of them, Marina, snipped lightheartedly.

“I guess I’m just better than the lot of you,” Daphne quipped smugly.

With this, they giggled, laughed and talked, as they made their way back to their dwelling place in a cave nearby. When there, Marina and the pink tailed girl pulled Daphne into a private room to talk.

“What’s this about, ladies?” she said with slight apprehension.

“Well, we’ve been thinking. And, we figure you have the most experience with the outside world…”

“We didn’t want to send someone with anything less. And since these ‘Children of the Night’ are so out of control, even now, we thought you ought to-”

“Please, Daphne. You have friends, don’t you? The scholar you lived with in the human’s city, or what about that half-blood you got along with so well?’

Daphne held up a hand. “No, no. Cain and his family are more their targets than anyone else. And goodness knows where Ion is- frankly I don’t think they’d be able to help, anyway. And Leonora, well…”

A tense pause. They were isolated and their friends were scattered, and they knew it. What could they do? They needed the other civilizations to keep theirs afloat; they couldn’t just barricade themselves in.

“I have one last idea. Voyagers of all peoples have been the lead storytellers and information providers through this. People are bound to go to the Fae to find out what’s going on. If I wait there, I can intercept someone, get them on our side.”

And so the plan was set. Daphne gathered her things, set Marina in charge of the people, and set off for the forest shores.

~*~

After two decades of dedicating his life to a Spectrum Kendov (or Warrior), Spear had reached the point of the highest physical strength and endurance as well as elemental power of the Northern Dragon standards. A Spectrum Kendov was the highest honor a Dovah could accomplish, by defeating two God-like beings… Perun, lord of earth and all Hell fire, and Scorpio, whose stars reigned with war and bloodshed of all the other Zodiac beings.

Spear walked into the Champions Arena, the crowd roared with anticipation and excitement, for the supposed Spectrum Kendov, meant to protect them from all great evil had finally come to claim his title. His helm, shaped to match his demon horns, had already been placed upon his head, and his eyes, glistening with power and will, looked at his opponents, with no urge to kill, but to have mercy when they were beaten to the ground.

"Well, isn't this a sight to see!" Perun's deep booming voice shouted, "Another one ready to die just to claim a glorified and honorful title he just can't have!" Perun had always been the one to provoke those who had high egos, yet Spear remained unmoved with his words.

"Ain't that the truth, this little man is nothing but a few twigs tied with some leaves," A lighter, cockier voice came from Scorpio, whom was the one to provoke others who share his personality, "Sure he has a bit of a size… but he ain't average height, that's for sure!" Perun and Scorpio boomed with laughter.

"Gaah! What the fu-?" Scorpio never finished his exclamation before he was thrown into the arena wall after being punctured with a double axe bladed spear, Spear's personal weapon. The fight had begun, and Scorpio had already yielded to Spear, he was in so much shock he forgot how to fight, while Perun sprung into action with his flaming axe bladed chain, grinding the ground around Spear. As Perun made a final smash to where Spear was, a thunderbolt the size of five struck upon him, leaving Spear's weapon in his back.

Spear retrieved his weapon from Perun's back, and showed mercy on him and Scorpio, for they were only trying to find the true Spectrum Kendov. The tribe went wild and shouted, "Spear is our Guardian! All praise whoever's watching us that we have our Guardian!"

Perun spoke to Spear after he was helped up by him, "We stood no chance- your small appearance is really deceiving to your skill in battle and power. Scorpio and I made an agreement that we would be the Spectrum's protectors, because while you may be strong, you are not immortal."

Spear spoke in a gentle yet stern voice, "Indeed, and I would rather have someone by my side fighting with me, than having more power and relying on that to fight."

Perun and Scorpio took Spear to the North Tower, the one place where all you see is South. "The Wind of the Northern Winter lies here, if it finds you worthy of its own power, then you are the Spectrum Kendov, and you know what responsibility comes with that title…" Perun spoke grimly and sorrowfully as he finished his speech.

Spear responded, "I know all too well of the prophecy, but I'd rather know than not if… he… is to come in my lifetime…" The Wind of the Northern Winter flowed through his veins as he entered the tower, no cold came upon him, yet he felt he could never feel too hot. He had been chosen to be the Spectrum Kendov, the Decimator of Alduin as legend goes- but that time had not come, for another challenge for Spear and the Northern Dragons arose down South…

~*~

Nightmares plagued the residents of the trees, no doubt the Interlopers used these horrid dreams to communicate. Below the leaves, the devils hung Fae bodies in shackles, pulling and picking at them until they bled. Those above pleaded to their gods that they and their children would not be next.

The Interlopers held a ravenous, morbid curiosity. It drove them out of the forests, beyond the lands of the Fae. They tormented the remnants of the first city, the servants of the iron god and the blood necromancers of the east. Their cruel hands found their ways into the lives of the Imitites, the Ortothans, and the Dovahs who had ventured South from their home.

Even the sirens below the freezing southern waves and ice were not immune to this. They poked their heads up to find massive beasts afoot in the snow. The ice cracked under their weight, leaving them vulnerable under the sickly yellow eyes of their attackers. They sent ships to the flesh shepherds and wonder makers on land, and even some to their Fae ancestors still in the woods, but none returned.

They looked to their princess, the demigod of the moon, sea, storms, and dreams, to provide them with weapons and armour, food and shelter. She didn’t know what to do- how could she possibly slip past these monsters? They were everywhere! Not trusting the gods of the Fae she was created by, she turned to another. Going to the sea serpent of lost memories, she prayed.

The Northern Dragons reacted differently however. In their attempts to sail across lands and create new colonies, they had run into what seemed to be giant creatures of great physical strength. Those that were exploring had either been missing for a great time, or had come back with their boats and sails barely holding together, while one man handling the boat itself.

The Dovahs had decided that Spear, the Spectrum Kendov, should be the one to seek out what they heard were called Interlopers, and hunt every single one of them down. While they planned his exploration, they had caught wind of creatures called the Fae, who were being hunted by these Interlopers. With all of this information, they had compiled a plan to not only bring the Fae as an ally, but to begin not a war, but a hunt against the Interlopers. So Spear untied his sail, pushed against the boat onto the water, and sailed to what the Dovahs called the Midlands, the land between Northern and Southern lands.

~*~

Sailing across waters long, Spear found himself beached at the Midlands; scanning his surroundings he finds that a forest grows thick ahead. Grabbing his weapon off of his back, he is ready for any battle to come, as he senses danger within the dense woods. He jumps off the boat's prow and lands with grace, while only sand from where he stood moved. He sneakily and quickly veered into the woods, and found that it was vast and compacted with large, kapok trees. Spear took note as he is only used to his native Blackwood trees.

A sound appeared suddenly, Spear silently leapt to the back of the closest tree, and peered upon what looked to be what he was hunting. An interloper, magnificent in size and mass, making an absurd amount of noise through each footstep, looking like a bear on two legs, as it was covered in fur. Spear slowly and expertly aimed his weapons towards the Interlopers head, and threw. After a clash of weight caving down onto a tree, the body of the interloper crumbled into a pile of jade rocks, it was dead. Spear walked over to his weapon, sensing no other large beings around, and picked up his weapon.

Suddenly, a sharp pain dug itself into his shoulder, and he turned to be met with the end of an arrow, made of, was it ice? "Gaah! Shite! What the heck!?" Spear jumped behind a tree with an arrow in his right shoulder. "Alright, who has the bloody galls to face me in combat? I warn you, I am a Dovah!" Spear left the arrow in his arm so as to not cause more bleeding, and switched to his left hand to weild.

"Come on out Interloper! I may have mercy on you if you do!" A feminine voice shouted from beyond Spear’s field of vision.

"The hell do you mean Interloper? Is that pile of rocks not what a dead one looks like?!" Spear shouts, aggravated that he was accused of being something he wasn't.

"Wait...who are you, if not one of them?" The woman’s voice spoke once more, and Spear sensed confusion and fear in her voice. She must’ve shot him thinking she was being hunted by him.

"I'm coming out slowly, I would appreciate it if you would not shoot me again!" Spear tentatively stepped around the tree to see the figure's ice-sculpted weapon out, but not ready to fire. "I am Spear, Guardian of the Northern Dragons….who the Hell are you?"

"Princess Daphne le’Iýa, Faerie demigod of the ocean," Daphne realizes the wounds and puts away her bow while stepping towards Spear. Spear was obviously hesitant and held out his weapons towards her. "Look, I thought you were one of the monsters, and had I known you were not, I certainly wouldn't have shot you. I can fix that wound better than you can. Please, it's the least I could do."

Spear recognized her honesty, while still noticing fear in her voice. He let her come close enough to slit his throat, but she pulled the arrow out of his arm, and immediately started singing in a language the Spear only knows through ancient Faerie scrolls, and his arm healed, leaving only a scar to remember.

"You are skilled in your magic, I'm glad to have met you, even if I met your arrow first,” Spear spoke honestly and jokingly, as he knew that forgiving this supposed Daphne would be the best way to start a bond.

"I am truly sorry about that. Is there anything else I can do?" Daphne didn’t seem to want anyone else after her, and tried her best to apologize to Spear.

"Do not worry, you only shot in defense without fully knowing who you were shooting at, I can understand this," Spear patted her shoulder to assure her. "Maybe we can both benefit from this event of meeting each other… you could find safety and rest back in my homeland, and then you can share what you know about these Interlopers, this way we both are happy with what we get."

"Have you forgotten about my actions so soon? I shot you!" Daphne was dumbfounded by Spear's quick dismissal of what had happened to him. Although he shook his head at her.

"You need not worry of your actions, for they were acted upon through fear and reaction, you were only trying to keep yourself safe. I can help you with that." Daphne tried to oppose and tell him that he should not be so dismissive about the event, but Spear assured her through a side hug, which caught Daphne off guard enough for Spear to walk past her and towards his boat.

“Wait,” Daphne called. Spear turned back to look back. “The last time I crossed the ocean with someone, things ended up, well… not so good.”

“You’ll be quite safe with my people,” Spear said. Daphne shifted a bit, eying him with wary hope. He was exactly what she set out looking for, after all. “And besides. If you find yourself uncomfortable, you can always use your arrows again,” he said with a playful wink.

With this, Daphne giggled slightly and followed behind. Exiting the thick forest, the two climbed onto the boat. Spear set sail to Scandinavia, the land of the Northern Dragons. To which the two made the journey, to the next step in either great failure, or triumphant victory…

~*~

The pair tentatively made their way across the ocean, skirting past the Interlopers ships to find themselves on the icy northern shores. The princess scurried to and fro, fascinated by her new environment and its people. How different they were than the people of the places she had previously resided in…!

They were Children of the Sun, but unlike those in the First City, these people were pale, blonde, and above all, kind. They welcomed the man- Spear- back with open arms, and were more than curious to meet the woman he had brought along with him. They peppered her with questions and gifts and sights to see, until eventually she was taken to a large building made from an upside-down wooden ship, which they called the Companion’s Lodge, a place to plan a hunt of glory and honor.

Suffice to say, she should’ve known that the man she crossed the ocean with would be the leader. She also met his guards, the most different of men but an excellent team nonetheless. Here, the four pulled out books, maps, stories and paintings, pouring over them in hopes that a hint would be found. A sign that the plans they would go on to make were possible.

After much studying and deliberation, they had had enough. What better way to understand these monsters than through personal experience? Better to dive right into cold waters than to waste your time slowly wading. It was a siege they wanted, and it was a siege they would have.

~*~

The battle was ferocious, haunting... yet it yielded knowledge to Spear and Daphne. As Spear took two dozen Dovahs with him, all with different elemental abilities, Daphne trained in her skills with water. During this time she was informed of something from Spear she never expected.

"It is tradition when one makes an ally of another, they would train each other of the other's weapon, so that the bond goes beyond words of trust, it is also trust of possessions." Spear spoke to Daphne in hopes to have created at least a friend with her. "I believe we are trusting of each other, so… what do you say?"

"Uhm…" Daphne was caught a bit off guard. Her bow being one of few things she kept to remind her of the home she came from. "I'm not sure… I mean, I trust you completely… but I don't want to give my bow to anyone really…" She obviously didn't want to hurt him in any way, so she tried her best to tell him in the kindest way.

"Well, maybe we can teach each other of how to use one another's weapons, that way if we do switch weapons, it won't be devastating in battle," Spear was trusting towards Daphne, mainly because he felt a strong connection between them. Even so, Daphne felt guarded towards him, yet she agreed to training each other, as she remembered, ‘iron sharpens iron.’

While Spear was able to pick up her bow and use it with tremendous strength and agility, Daphne had immediate trouble with how to begin using Spear's complicated weapon. Until Spear suggested using it as a spear, not an axe, Daphne then swiftly grew more attuned to the weapon.

While this was happening, the Interlopers stronghold was being populated with readily growling beasts, yielding to tear apart anything that came. Just before the battle began, Daphne and Spear switched weapons, and having learned each other's weapons, they charged in the front line, and made mountains with the piling jade rocks from many fallen and crushed Interlopers.

With their great roar of excitement, the Dovahs roared with them, right into the line of Interlopers. As they crashed through their thick bodies with their hugs weapons, they became berserk and started wailing on them, showing no mercy. They had trained to fight like Hell itself, and they were as demons in this battle, blood soared not spilled, limbs flew not fell, and the morale of the Dovahs only increased. However, even with their great first triumphant starting charge, they started to wear down in numbers, just by virtue of the continuous streaming numbers of Interlopers.

As Daphne was using her water abilities in ways she never imagined using on the frontline, Spear used archery and close combat expertly to the point where he never missed his shots and never came close to getting hit. Even though the two sibling-like fighters were doing well, the Dovahs were still overwhelmed by the increasing numbers.

Many had used fire, metal, nature, and all of them were decimated, while those using lightning were barely holding on as well as wind… however, Daphne noticed something. She peers in close distance to two Dovahs using water abilities, making the Interlopers drown, what was curious however, was that when they were under the water, they couldn't move, therefore they couldn't breath and they died.

Daphne quickly refocused to the battle at hand, and Spear cries out, "Too many have fallen, fall back! Water Dovahs, drown those who follow us!" It seemed as though Spear was also paying attention to his surroundings. As the remaining group of soldiers returned to their outpost, the last two water Dovahs made a wall of water of which the Interlopers could not pass lest they drown and crumble into jade.

Daphne and Spear look at each other in agreement. The battle may have been lost for that day… but knowledge of weakness in their enemies may prove to be the element to winning the war, or as the Northern Dragons call it, the hunt…

~*~

The Companion's Lodge was bathed in a tense argument. They started the siege with the advantage of surprise, but it had quickly descended into mindless violence and death.

“How could this have happened? I thought we had them!” Scorpio shouted in frustration.

“We made sure to bring our best! All different kinds of elemental wielders were there with us, and nearly all of them were slaughtered! What more could we possibly have done?” Perun huffed. Although calmer than the others, his voice still wavered with stress.

“At least we learned their weakness,” Spear started to speak before being cut off.

“Oh, fantastic. Just in time for your people to be killed,” Daphne said icily.

“Our people,” Spear tried an uncertain smile.

Daphne paused and sighed, relieving a tad bit of the tension. “Yes, our people.” She looked around the room, which had largely quieted down. “I’m so sorry. If I had known it would turn out this way…”

“But you couldn’t have. This isn’t any of our faults,” Perun said in a soothing, almost fatherly tone. A somber silence fell over them, each lost in thought, or perhaps simply in grief.

“Daphne could tell us more about why this is happening,” Scorpio spoke quietly.

“I already told you all I know about the Interlo…” she trailed off. That didn’t seem to be the point. “Alright.”

“Well, the Fae goddess- my mother, Iýa. She created me and my… sister, Leonora. But she was made princess and I wasn’t, so I ran away. I didn’t realize why I needed to stay until the Fae had Iýa create the Interlopers we now face.”

A, “But why?” from Perun.

A, “Shush!” from Spear.

Daphne giggled before turning serious again. “The first man- Asem- stole from my people. He took a star and used it for a crown. I was already gone when all this happened, but I’m told the Faeries wished for justice. In return, Iýa gave them the Interlopers. Not that it mattered. Asem’s greed had already torn his family apart. His wives left him, his sons quarreled until they drove each other apart, and his people all left or died in the chaos.”

“And how is it you know so much about him?” Scorpio spoke with a hint of accusation.

She drew in a breath to argue, but Perun spoke as before her, more calmly. “He’s right. Even we didn’t know this, and we live much closer to the first city than you did at the time.”

Daphne huffed and turned away. Spear put a hand on her shoulder, making her tense and then ease up.

“I was there.” Silence. Spear’s hand pulled away. “I know how that must sound. Most people would have you believe I immediately joined the sirens under the ice, but…” She took a deep breath. “There was this boy. I went with him to his city- the first city- and his family. They were nice, but not kind. And I was there to witness this be their downfall. Not that it matters now- and it’s probably for the best, anyway.”

Spear put his arm around Daphne’s shoulder to comfort her, and it worked. She steeled herself again to go on. “Now, as for the Interlopers- in the city was a sorcerer- his name was Noah. I know it sounds like a long shot, but I know him, and I know he could help. I think our next step is to find him.”

~*~

Daphne had hidden herself away under her covers, with a small, glowing gem of ice. Curled up and warm, she sang a lullaby and fiddled with the ginger scarf in her hands. Her sister’s. If only they could’ve just gotten along, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. If she had just sought to understand her mother’s wishes for her, or if she had met Asem just a little sooner to convince him not to do what he did...

You’ll never be able to hate yourself enough to rewrite history, that boy’s gentle voice whispered to her. Silently, she nodded. Her heart ached with longing. How she wished she could hold him again. She’d fall to her knees and beg if it meant she could giggle with her sister again, or squirm and cry in her mother’s arms. If this could all go back to normal. But, drawing in a shaky breath, she reminded herself not to dwell on what could have been. She had a new family now, one that truly loved her, and she had to protect them.

Spear meanwhile, took a knife from his shield, which had many, but this one was different. This first knife he had crafted with his mother, the one of few things that actually cut him. He held it in his hands in admiration, as if he had never seen it before. Spear then held the knife to his chest as if trying to hug it, and thought about his mother.

He began singing an old song told by many of the Dovahs, called, My Mother Told Me. He sang it perfectly in three different keys. He then replaced his knife back into his shield, and stood up. He was ready for battle, for exhaustion, even for death… because he was once a boy who cut himself with his own knife… and now is the Spectrum Kendov… he feared not the death of himself, but the death of his newfound sister, therefore he swore that he would protect her, even at the cost of his life...

~*~

"Water is their weakness!" Perun shouted, "Why the Hell can't we just use your powers in every battle and destroy these cursed Interlopers?!" Perun was insistent on being a warlord, making sure everyone had a chance of fighting and getting stronger. Though he didn't realize the bigger picture.

"Every time I used my powers for an extended amount of time, I got tired, that is why we can't continuously use these powers every battle, because it would weaken us to the point where we can't even fight!" Spear spoke angrily at Perun, though he knew Perun's powers worked differently because he was a mythological God, he hated his lack of empathy when others got tired from using them. "Even if we didn't get tired, why should we fight and lose more of our men, when we can wipe them out completely in one big swipe?!"

"What are you talking about…?" Perun's curiosity perked up as he heard this. Daphne opened up a scroll of prophecy, and with her knowledge explained to both Perun and Scorpio more about Noah, a human from the seas, able to control great waves from below ground.

With this knowledge they created a plan, Spear would use his powers that combined into weather to create a huge rainstorm, Daphne would use her powers to raise the waves of the oceans, lakes, and rivers, and finally Noah would use his power to break the ground and gush water from the Earth. Their powers combined should be enough to cover all but the highest parts of the Earth. They trusted that the Interlopers would fall in and sink, while others would either get to the high ground, use boats, or swim in the sea if they were sea creatures. The missing component was Noah himself.

"Where is this Noah?" Scorpio asked urgently, he wanted to rid the Northern Dragons of any threats as soon as possible. Daphne then pulled out a map of the Midlands and pointed out where he could be.

"Right in the middle of an Interloper camp?" Spear grunted this, as he did not want anything to go wrong in getting Noah. Daphne nods, her expression was a mix of anger and disappointment, she had the same feelings as Spear. Perun started to notice the bond between Spear and Daphne, and while the two were talking more, Perun pulled Scorpio aside.

"I remember that Noah was taken captive with the Daevite Methuselah, though I don't know what their intentions were," Daphne spoke to Spear, she was annoyed by the fact they had to fight more Interlopers to get one person.

"I have Dovahs around the area, mainly for scouting. They came back long before all of this and told me that there is a camp, and it's only guarded by about 40 beasts, which I would think are Interlopers. It will only be tedious, that's all," Spear spoke to Daphne, trying to lift her spirits at least a little. It worked, and Daphne thanked him for being the one to look at a mug half full. Spear meanwhile thanked Daphne for looking at every possible bad ending, things to avoid.

As Scorpio and Perun come back unnoticed, they begin to pack for the adventure ahead. They thought it would be a walk in the small forest, so they only brought Spear, Daphne, Perun, and Scorpio. A mistake they made to bring so little to a battle they thought would be easy. For there may be small numbers, but the camp is one of the oldest camps the Interlopers made, and since they do not age with time… trouble is amongst those who venture into these parts of the Midlands…

~*~

The travelers numbering four ventured forth into the seemingly haunted woods. As they were traveling Perun started sensing many things in the woods, small animals mostly. He looked everywhere at all times, making sure they were safe. It seemed the right thing to do considering they were going into unknown territory for everyone.

The trees themselves were massive birch trees, usually thought of as peaceful, harmless. However twisted magic had affected these trees over the decades, and created monster-like limbs and branches. Even with these weird formations, no twigs or branches had fallen to be broken, as if nobody had ever ventured into this area.

They managed to find the camp of the Interlopers, and snuck in. All of them were on high alert, especially Perun, as they crouched and sneakily ran in multiple directions.

Daphne left the group and followed the sweet scent of water, a stark contrast against the putrid stank of things rotting in the dark. The brook led her to a horrid sound, red lights serving as a waypoint. It was awful; the closer she got, the more she clung to the bed of the stream for comfort. But alas, her head emerged at the rumbling thud of Interloper footsteps. She immediately gagged.

There, in the middle of a crowd of singing devils, was Iýa, but it was not really her. This was a massive, sickly tree, the size of a large town. It was twisted and warped, with a thousand wriggling bodies strung up in it’s branches. The aberration was screaming and crying an demonic bellow, all the while the Interlopers hummed as though in joy.

What was this thing? This couldn’t be Iýa, it wasn’t possible! Iýa was a glowing mother, a sleeper in the stars, a granter of wishes. She cared for the downtrodden and oppressed, and all those who could not defend themselves. She couldn’t become this, this...

Meanwhile, Spear, Scorpio, and Perun had convened in the main camp. It seemed that only the prisoner's area was inhabited, there they found the supposed Noah. As they started to unchain him, he started grunting. They quickly shushed him and told him they were there to help, he calmed down enough to be unchained, however, they did not quiet him in time.

Suddenly, a loud sound of seemingly screeching giggling and groaning of war had been shouted, despite Perun's attempts to look everywhere, he managed to miss the entire garrison of the Interloper camp. Spear and Daphne, now returned, immediately stood back to back as if they could take on the whole world, while Perun and Scorpio started smashing their weapons onto the Interlopers. Scorpios scythe had pierced many during the battle, while Perun's axe on a chain whirled around and clashed the heads of many. Spear and Daphne, using each other's weapons as always, were always either defending each other or helping the other attack an Interloper, they were synchronized.

The fight continued on like this until Daphne was thrown to a tree, leaving Spear vulnerable to the last remaining Interloper. Spear looked about him as the Interloper charged his weapon at him….although no injury befell him, rather on Scorpio. Spear threw his weapon and the last Interloper was thrown into a tree and broke into jade. Spear slides to Scorpio's side in time for him to speak to Spear for a short time…..

After his dialogue, his body turns bright and, as if he were being sucked into the sky, his body lifted up swiftly, leaving only his necklace for Spear to bear… Scorpio was dead. Spear shouted out in rage and a thunderstorm started to appear, then it stopped. Daphne hugged Spear tightly, and while Spear was caught off guard by this, he embraced her, being thankful that he was still with her at least. Perun had then brought who was seemingly Noah out of hiding, from behind thick berry bushes, and into sight.

After their journey back, and the heartache of Scorpio's death, they explain the whole plan of how to destroy the Interlopers. Noah was quite panicked at first, but after calming down and hearing Perun, Spear, and Daphne, as well as considering they saved him, he agreed to being a part of the plan. So together, they trained, and got ready for The Great Flood of Cleansing Sin. Factions around the world had been sent a message entitling everyone to either get to high ground, build ships to sail on, or dive deep underwater so as to not be destroyed by the coming flood. Who knew what more sacrifices have to be made to create peace, was it even worth it all? The story continued, and the next step was the extinction of a race…

~*~

Spear, Daphne, Noah, and Perun travelled back to the forest of their greatest travesty, and had one last moment of remorse, sorrow, heartache. The rest of the Dovahs were building their ships to sail on the waters to come, and they decided to go to the location after the prophesied flood.

Daphne didn't know Scorpio for long, but she still enjoyed his comedic comments and his radiation of happiness, and she knew everything would be at least a good amount more depressing. Spear knew Scorpio for not much longer than Daphne, but like Daphne, he enjoyed Scorpio's company, as well as their many interesting conversations… including the one where he told Spear he was getting married.

Spear and Perun had to hug his fiancé for over an hour just to comfort her. Perun was Scorpio's brother, they were not blood related, but brothers nonetheless, therefore Perun, for the first time in his entire life, cried a tear from his eye. All Dovahs remorsed of his death, but only those who truly knew and had a relationship with Scorpio needed time, time to be sad. Then anger rose from the sadness, and all of them started preparing for the creation of the flood.

As Spear and Perun walked away, Daphne tailed behind them and slipped into the nearby creek. She did not have the will to enjoy the feeling of her tail returning; the situation at hand was much too grim. Her mother was now an abomination, her heart torn out for those created to be betrayed. And a man who had so quickly become a brother to her was dead. Daphne never had any brothers, why now that she did would one be taken away so carelessly?

Daphne heaved a sigh and began to sob. At first it seemed that the Interlopers were tools, created to do the Fae's dirty work and then be ignored forever. But they weren’t; they were children. Made for violence and cast aside like waste. And festering in the dark for so long, was it any surprise they didn’t know any better? Was it their fault?

She now knew what needed to be done, but hadn’t they already lost enough? A good friend and a mother gone were too much, how could she bring herself to wipe out an entire race, even despite their actions?

She once again thought of Asem’s family, of Cain, and felt an overwhelming pang of guilt. Oh, all the things she could’ve, should’ve, didn’t do to stop this! Clutching at the clockwork bracelet he had given to her, she did the only thing she could think to do; pray. Not to what was left of Iýa, not to any leviathans or sea serpents, but to a simple god with a simple purpose. She only hoped her words could be heard, that things could still be fixed. But the quiet sound of a thousand voices whispered to her, that she already knew what to do.

Touching a hand to the grass, she began to sing. It was her sister’s song, a flowery poem of spring, rebirth and justice. But this was not justice for her, Daphne thought as the flowers around her began to bloom in unison. This isn’t for the Faeries, their queen, or even Leo (though Daphne did hope she was safe). This was not for Asem or the Children of the Sun, or even the countless cultures that had been picked, pulled, and torn at by the devils.

No, the flood may be necessary to wipe out the horror of their acts, but the flowers now blooming across the face of the planet would serve as the Interlopers grave. And she would ensure this day would be remembered.

~*~

The flowers had wilted as the sun set the evening after their blooming. In the night that followed, light rain began to drizzle. This quickly turned to torrents and lightning that could rival that of even the god’s creation. Flash floods cascaded down mountains, turning creeks into rivers and rivers into great lakes. Forests became cold swaps and Interloper camps were reduced to sticks and blankets.

Those devils that were not fastened in place by the waters took the prisoners by their chains to the summits of peaks. Yet still most of the monsters slipped and fell, leaving the humans, Faeries, and Daevas still in their chains to find higher grounds, both together and on their own.

All the while, Daphne and Spear were deep, deep, down, their magic sustaining and growing on itself on their life forces. Low in the halls of Daphne’s first home, in the strip of land connecting the massive continents, they dreamt.

Hers started out pleasant. She was in a field, picking flowers as fast as her sister’s magic grew them. They took turns braiding the blossoms into each other’s hair, until the ground began to shake and the earth was overturned. They were then older, ceaselessly arguing as their mother futilely tried to calm them. Both sisters stormed off, swearing to never speak again.

The doors slammed shut, and there she sat beside the scholar, quietly watching him write. She reached behind him for a pen to mimic his strange symbols with. But as soon as her eyes turned, she was face to face with the starry iron crown of Asem. Across her eyes played scenes of the brutality and deadly force of the Interlopers- their prisoners crying, her mother’s corpse screaming- and the storms and floods created to wash them away.

And then she saw things she didn’t recognize. Simple flashes, almost ideas. Some were light. Her friends, older and stronger. A wedding, two boys that looked half like her. Spear, in command of legions, and Leonora, princess of the Fae. But some were dark. A corrupt king and his four knights, sent to destroy, going back to their kingdom in cursed shambles. The cadaver of her sister, willingly having given her life to end the terrorous reign of the Fae’s ruiners, and the great profanities she created.

And then her mind went blank. Only the rains remained.

While this happened, Spear and Perun quickly started getting ready while Noah and Daphne had already started using their powers. Perun was there to guard them, but just in case anyone slipped by, Spear created spheres of protection to serve as a shield against any attack, and he surrounded Noah, Daphne and himself. While Spear started to control his power, he saw Perun burst into a flaming creature, with black wings that seemed to be infected with white colors. Then, Spear lost himself to his thoughts, his powers activated, and he could only see darkness.

Then, a flash of light, and he could see everything. He saw the bodies of the many fallen Dovahs that died during the hunt against the Interlopers. In the middle of the body littered ground, he saw Scorpio, his heart pierced, and his body lay soulless. Then, his eyes filled with life, and he got up. Spear stood back in shock and terror at this sight, he didn't realize this was only in his spiritual mind. Scorpio plucked the halberd from his chest, and tossed it to the ground, and then gave Spear a brotherly hug.

As Spear was in question, Scorpio calmed him, saying that it was not his soul that died, and that there is hope for him to live. Spear begged him to tell him how, he said he only knew that the coming Alduin must be defeated, before he could return. Spear was still in question, but Scorpio assured him that he would be a guide of what to do, and where to go throughout his life from now on. Scorpio then touched his necklace, which Spear bared on his chest, and Spear filled with increased power. The Blessing of the Zodiacs, only given to those worthy enough to fight by the side of a Star.

As Spear started calming down, his heart filled somewhat with anger, as he still remembered the deaths of the many Dovahs, and Scorpio. Then his heart filled somewhat with love, as his brotherly relationship with Daphne reigned in his heart, he knew he had to defend her. He didn't even think about his family, his friends, or even anyone else he was supposed to save, and he even forgot about the deaths. All he thought of was Daphne, and even the thought of her being injured haunted him… so he protected her.

In the physical realm, Noah was breaking water from the ground, and Daphne was moving water from all bodies of water, just as planned. Interlopers expectantly charged towards them, but then a fiery creature came crashing down, and looked at them. Horns grew a meter long each, body of a demon, with huge hawk-like wings colored charcoal and streaks of pure white, a tail meters long reached around the creature, and at the end, was an axe, all the while the creature was violently flaming, and was hold a huge Greatsword in one hand, and a Battleaxe on a thick chain in the other. It was Perun, in his true Rising Demonic form, filled with rage. Still in the stage of horror, the Interlopers were then crashed into by Perun, while he wailed his axe around and flurried his sword at them, they felt fear. Even in their terrified state, they fought hard against Perun, though they knew they couldn't take him down, they just needed to get past him. Due to Perun's arrogance in attacking them, many Interlopers ran past him and towards the flooding trio.

Though they got close to them they stopped in horror, as they looked at one of the three. Spear was glowing lightning bright, and a hurricane the size of the entire world started. Even Perun looked in confusion, he knew Spear could never use that much power in any given situation, but he did, because of the blessing given by Scorpio's spirit, and Spear's heart filled with the brotherly protection for Daphne. He created the hurricane that not only flailed the opposing Interlopers away, but immediately started filling the earth with the water.

Clans and Kingdoms around the world were taking refuge to hide from the flood. Samurai of the Isles took to the mountains with the Ninjas of Darkness. The Woodlands Weres took refuge in mountains as well, far from the Isles. The Southern Dragons used magic to protect them from the waters, and the Northern Dragons used ships, as they were voyaging Vikings, and loved the challenge of the storm. And the creature of the water took refuge in underwater caves.

The Interlopers were swiftly wiped out, as they couldn't swim or build boats fast enough, they crumbled into jade as they were suffocated by the rising waters. An entire race was wiped out, all except a few remaining Interlopers that managed to get high enough, but they were eventually taken prisoner or driven underground.

Then, when all the destruction was done, Spear and Daphne woke up exhausted in all ways, using that much power greatly diminished their strength. Perun ran to them in a hurry, and tried offering to help them up, but they both refused and just wanted to lay down for a bit. When they somewhat rested they slowly got up, and Spear and Daphne hugged tightly, and then they looked for Noah. When they found him, his body was resting peacefully, a burnt-out husk as he took his final breath using a great amount of power to help them stop the Interlopers.

~*~

And so the floods receded, and life seemed to simply go on. The sparse handful of Interlopers leftover were dragged into hiding, and their prisoners found their way free of their chains and back to their homes.

Daphne's blue eyes looked upon Spear's hazel, and smiled wearily. Then, they hugged tightly. Though they had made it in the end, many had sacrificed their life to help them get this far. Their mission was done, and Noah, Scorpio, and the Interlopers went with it.

They returned to the Dovah home land, where celebrations had burst forth like lightning. For the first time in a long time, they allowed themselves to simply rest and enjoy themselves. They ate, drank, and were merry for seven days and seven nights, but no time limit could contain their joy.

Until the bitter taste had set in. So much was lost, and yet they partied. But they reminded themselves that festivity was not meant to diminish the sacrifices made to allow it. They honored those that had fallen by reveling in the peace and freedom they had brought.

Perhaps the world would never be entirely fixed, but they had learned by now that it didn’t matter. Spear had never forgotten his mother’s words, and chose now to share them with his newfound sister. That is why the gods gave us loved ones. To unify us and to lift one another up.

“So what now?” Daphne asked him at one time. “The world will never be the same. It’s like, their entire existence has just been… swallowed whole.”

“Yes, I suppose that was the point. But we’ve done a great thing, you know.” She smiled at him and nodded. “And now we… carry on?”

She sighed.

“...And now we carry on.”

~*~

And so Spear returns to Scandinavia, and continues to be the Spectrum Kendov, Guardian of the Northern dragons. Not only that, but as he bears the necklace of his fallen brother, Scorpio, he feels his night sky presence, watching over him, as if he was right next to Spear. Perun becomes the general of the entire Northern Dragon Dovahs, and sets up a way of communication for Daphne and Spear, making it so that they can continue being siblings. After all of this Spear trains, what he trains for is only in prophecy. At first he didn't believe it, but as soon as he found a scroll prophesying Noah and the flood, Spear began his training to fight Alduin…

Daphne found herself aimlessly wandering when the Flood had finally left. She met the madman Ion again, and helped them raise their religion. And after a while, her path crossed that of the scholarboy from the first city again. They were married in a temple of the Iron God, and when that church no longer accepted them, they fled to build a family and a city of their own. Every now and again, the princess, now queen, would ride the waves north to see her Dovah brothers, just as they went south to meet her, as well.

The Interlopers fell into legend, the ghost stories that would frighten children at night. All had forgotten them but the Faeries and the Dovahs. They mourned for the losses caused across the world, and for all that they had allowed themselves to do and believe. So when the Apollyons came to conquer the Faeries, they accepted their fate in hopes that justice could be served properly this time.

And Iýa? She tore out her own heart to make the prison the Interlopers requested, where Asem rots to the present day. Her body, similarly, decays in a cavern just below it, as do the few remaining Interlopers and the Apollyon knight who failed to seize her. The Wormwood trees had long since pulled it into an underground cavern, wiping its memory from all those above. All that was left was a scar. Although Dovahs were disconnected from this magic, therefore they could remember all.

Perhaps there is a lesson to be learned here. About the envy of Adam, about the failures of the Fae, or maybe about the levity blindly doled out by Iýa herself. Or maybe it's about the teamwork of those who opposed the Interlopers, the love that bound them together, and the relentless courage they wielded. We may never know.

And so, the book closes and another story is shelved.

~*~

Well, dear reader, if you've read this far, I couldn't possibly thank you enough!

And many, many thanks to my little brother, Spear (@jack-spear-eye), for helping me on this!! Scorpio, Perun, and Kendov (Warrior) Spear (his self-insert), and the Dovahs are all his creations; Daphne is mine. We created the plot together, and the worldbuilding in general belongs to djkaktus (based on SCP-6666, 4840, and 4812).

Lil' man, I swear, he was the best partner on this! Every time I hit a roadblock, he had a new idea that got the gears turning again. It was a big commitment, too, I mean, just look at all that text! But we pulled it off, and I'm glad we did!

Fearless and creative optimist you are, I couldn't have done it without you, Spear.

So without further ado, here's the man to talk about it a little, too!

I did this not for my own gain, but to show others a message of unity, as well as to entertain. Normally I would say something in dovahzul (Dragon tongue/language) But pretty much I just want to say thank you all very much for giving me the chance to be a part of this community, and I want to personally thank Andy (@the-siren-and-the-sailor) for giving me the chance to do all of this, and giving me something to look forward to :•)

And last but not least, the TL;DR!

[fierypen37]

Virtue a Veil, Vice a Mask Chapter 9

Chapter 9

 Raquira was under way again. The sailors kicked the boarding bridges free, tossed the corsair corpses overboard and unfurled her sail to catch the strong eastward wind. The ship’s cook, who doubled as their healer, tended the wound to Jon’s leg under Daenerys’s sharp eye. The gash was jagged, but shallow—thank the gods. No need for suturing. On the edges of her hearing, she heard the cook grumble over the lost rum. She and Missandei had done enough to ensure their freedom and Daenerys didn’t feel a speck of misgiving over taking what they needed, yet perhaps she should offer to repay their purser. A problem that can wait.

The captain and crew milled about on deck, trying to set everything to rights.

“Where is your dagger, khaleesi?” Aggo asked. Daenerys wiped a smear of blood from his craggy cheek with the hem of her cloak. In answer, his black eyes warmed with tenderness. The wind buffeted them, and Daenerys wrestled with the cloak flapping around her.

“I stuck a corsair bent on capturing me near the stern,” she said. Though she had no skill with it, Jon’s wry advice rang in her inner ear: Stick ‘em with the pointy end. Aggo nodded.

“I will find it.”

“All the bodies were tossed overboard, milady,” the first mate said. Kovarro’s scowl turned murderous. He hauled the man close by handfuls of his tunic and shook him.

“Who took it? Who steals from the khaleesi?” he barked, his accent thickened in his ire. Aggo loosed his bloody whip from where it lay coiled around his chest. Daenerys laid a stalling hand on his arm.

“Peace, blood of my blood. There is no reason to think it was--” a thud. One of the sailors tossed the sheathed Valyrian steel dagger at her feet. The captain lumbered up hefting a heavy sack and laid it beside the dagger.

“Take this. It’s all our coin. A fair sum of gold,” he said.

“Ser, I cannot--” He held up a hand to stall her.

“Without you and your men, all of us would be dead or wearing slave’s collars by now. Take it. We will sell our cargo in Pentos and make a lean profit. We thank you.” Daenerys scanned the crowd of faces. Though nonplussed, none seemed to protest the offer their captain made in their stead. His words rang true. Without her and Missandei, the corsair ship would have chased them down. Without Grey Worm, Aggo, Kovarro, and Jon, more of them would have lost their lives.

Under the healer’s ministrations, Jon uttered a half-stifled grunt of pain. Daenerys hid her wince.

“You have our thanks, captain. My husband and I will retire now. I would appreciate some hot water to wash with, and food at your earliest convenience,” Daenerys said.

“As you say, milady,” the captain replied.

Once Jon was settled in their berth bed, Daenerys set to washing away the soot and seawater. An ewer of hot water, and a dish of her favorite lemon-scented soap from Pentos went a long way to restoring her composure. As she washed, the weight of Jon’s ink-dark eyes felt . . . odd. Worshipful, almost. Twined together in the throes of passion, she understood that impulse—she’d felt it too. Now it was unnerving. Her belly felt taut as a drum.

“What is it?” she asked, draping her clean, dripping hair over one shoulder to comb. Jon shrugged.

“Nothing.”

“No, what is it? Forgive me for not telling you about it earlier. I did not mean to cause you pain,” she said, focusing on the strokes of the comb. A delicate scrape on her scalp, through the heft of her wet hair, snagging on a tangle. A glance darted at Jon saw another casual shrug. He took a long draw from his waterskin.

“It’s all right. Have you . . . have you always been immune to fire?” he asked. Daenerys uttered a bark of mirthless laughter. Gods, how it must sound to him! In her heart, as the pyre burned, she knew no harm would come to her. Her sons needed her to be born.

“I don’t know. Looking back, I never remember burning myself cooking or the like. Bathwater was never too hot.” Jon’s dark eyes widened.

“You heard your dragons sing, and walked into the fire not knowing if you’d survive? You truly are a wonder.” Daenerys threw down the comb in frustration.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t?” Jon asked, frowning.

“Don’t look at me like that!” she snapped.

“Like what?” Jon said, matching her in sharpness and volume.

With a wince, he swung free from the bed and stood. Daenerys cursed and moved to help him.

“Jon, your leg--” he waved off her concern, instead pulling her close to him, rock-steady against the pitch of the sea beneath them. Gods, the strength of him, the woodsy smell of his skin. She was fast becoming addicted to it.

“It’ll keep. Now, what’s this about?” he asked more softly. Daenerys rested her forehead against his chest.

“Don’t look at me like I’m some goddess or blessed one.” She was mortal, fallible. She would fail him in some way, and what would be left of her once he moved on?

“But you are, or as close as any mortal woman can be. You walk through fire unharmed. You wake dragons from stone. How can I not look at you and think you’re a goddess? A myth from the Age of Heroes at the very least?”

“Demoted from a goddess to a myth?” she teased. Jon laughed.

“Aye,” he said, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“Jon, I can be vain and foolish and petty like anyone else. I just don’t want you to think--” Jon stoppered her words with a quick kiss on her lips.

“I know that, Dany. But that doesn’t make you any less miraculous to me. Now stop fretting and come kiss me,” he said. Daenerys grinned. It was so easy for him to cajole her out of a mood with a bit of humor. And kissing sounded wonderful.

“Very well, my dragon.”

 The rest of the journey to Pentos was uneventful save for the fact that Jon’s stomach refused to calm. Bless him, he was only able to keep down dry bread, and that only half of the time. Between that and his injured leg, he was by turns clinging and snappish. Daenerys sat with him, telling him lighthearted tales of the places she’d seen. How the Sealord of Braavos had spilled his wine and stained his new tunic at the Titan’s roar at sunset. How the street performers danced in the streets of Myr. There she’d learned the deft cutpurse’s trade when she was no older than eight. Though the stories often educed his half-smile, half-grimace, his misery deepened as the journey wore on as the sailors fought an indifferent wind. Jon paced and growled around their cabin, cursing the ship, the waves, the crew, the food.

At the helmsman’s horn on the morning of the fifth day at sea, she sighted land. Jon limped to the prow, squinting into the sun.

“Land,” he said. His tone was caught somewhere between lust and hunger. He looked thinner, his face drawn and wan. Dark circles cupped his eyes. Daenerys shared a worried look with Missandei. Her friend squeezed her arm in passing. Perhaps her Dothraki women could mix something for her new husband. It was midday by the time the ship docked and Kovarro led the horses off.

“Thank you for allowing our passage,” Jon said stiffly to the captain.

“Thank you, my prince and my silver lady. Enjoy Pentos,” he said. Jon and Daenerys walked arm in arm down the pier, staggering drunkenly as they shed their sea-legs.

“Land, thank the gods! There were times I thought that voyage would never end. I could kiss the ground,” Jon said. Daenerys eyed the grey timber pier spattered with gull droppings and furred with lichen.

“I wouldn’t,” she said. Jon snorted in reluctant amusement. Already, his color looked better. They found Kovarro, Aggo, Grey Worm and Missandei with the horses at a cookstall. Kovarro peeled morsels of fried meat off a stick with his teeth.

“Here, Jon of the Dragon Tent. Dormouse. Very good!” he said, grease shining on his mustache. Daenerys watched Jon’s jaw flex, sweat popped on his brow. He stalked away toward the pier to retch into the swampy shallows. Her own stomach lurched in sympathy.

“Milk men,” Aggo muttered, crunching on his own morsel. Daenerys reprimanded him in Dothraki. Her gaze followed the flex of his shoulders as he retched. Wiping his mouth on his cuff, he approached them. A stormcloud had a gentler look than Jon.

“Jon--” she said.

“Leave me be,” he snarled. Daenerys shared a bewildered look with her group.  

“Come now! We must find Rakharo,” she said briskly, swinging astride Ciri. Jon climbed astride his bay, adjusting his sword at his hip. Still wearing his scowl, his silence tasted like hoarfrost. Daenerys exhaled a frustrated breath, trying to master her irritation. Was it a Stark trait to be so mercurial?

Riding two-by-two, they meandered through the busy markets of Pentos. Larger than the same sort she had seen in King’s Landing. The world seemed broader and more vivid in Pentos. Criers boasted of their wares in half a dozen languages. The air was alive with spices and cooking oil, perfumes and dung. Here were rich Myrish textiles, there the reek of Ibbenese tar. As they passed a gated manse, there was the tang of Yi Tish saffron in the air. Palanquins carried by servants stoppered surging foot traffic. Jon nudged his bay even with Ciri.

“I thought there were no slaves in Pentos,” he said in a low voice. Oh, have you calmed, Husband? She bit down the words. No use to quarrel in the midst of the city.

“There are ways of bending the law, if you’re rich enough. Some servants are slaves in all but name,” Daenerys said. The thought made her feel ill. Through her childhood, she’d seen their plight and loathed it.

“It is the same amongst the smallfolk home. It is a shameful thing,” Jon said. Daenerys’ eye fell to a woman trailing after her mistress, arms laden with packages while yolked to two large water pails. The careworn face. The downcast eyes. Nausea roiled in her belly.

“Yes, it is,” Daenerys said softly. The image of her collar lingered long after the slave disappeared from sight.

The Dothraki would shelter in manses when it suited them, but they preferred the cloth and leather tents of their fathers beneath an open sky. Dragons too, did not do well cooped up in stone walls. Thus, their camp sprawled on the bluffs on the outskirts of Pentos, just as she’d left it. So much had changed in little more than a sennight. They arrived, dusty, thirsty, and unkempt in the heat of mid-afternoon. Daenerys urged Ciri into her liquid-smooth canter as the summited the bluff. She stood in the stirrups and shouted: “Drogon! Tessarion! Vyrmax!”

The bond between them was young, fragile like a dandelion bloom. But through it, she felt such joy. They had missed her. Tears pricked her eyes. Her loves. Her sweet sons.

“Look, Jon!” she said, swinging down from Ciri. In the deep blue of the cloudless sky to the north, she saw them. At this distance, they could have been mistaken for birds.

“There, you see? Drogon is in the center. Black as midnight,” she said to Jon, watching his face. Though stoic in the fashion of his mother’s people, Jon’s ink-dark eyes were as wide as a child’s.

“Tessarion is aloof, a hunter. See his bronze?” As he rolled in the air, the bronze streaks of his chest scales flashed in the sun.

“And to the left, Vyrmax. My youngest and the swiftest. White as snow.” White and gold. The colors of snow and sunrise. Mayhap he and Jon would be a good match. Their music filled the air, shrieks and clicks. Too small a sound to be roars, just yet. But fierce and valiant. From the tail of her eye, she saw her people gather in a ring around them.

“They’re beautiful. Gorgeous beasts,” Jon said softly.

Closer now. Gods, they’d grown! Daenerys braced herself, used to her children’s rambunctious greetings. The three of them flared their wings at the last instant. Drogon struck her chest, Tessarion and Vyrmax either shoulder. Her feet knocked from under her, Daenerys wheezed out a breathless laugh. Her sons had never gotten the knack for landing on her gently. It was a confusing tangle of wings and limbs. Each of them butted her face, clamoring for attention. Daenerys laughed, petting their warm scales.

“Peace, peace my loves! Settle. Settle, now,” she said sternly. Drogon nibbled her first finger, Vyrmax climbed on her shoulder and burrowed under her braid, Tessarion nestled in the crook of her elbow. Jon tentatively offered a hand to help her up. Drogon growled, black smoke curling from his slitted nostrils.

“Hush, darling,” Daenerys said, accepting the proffered hand, “my children, this is Jon. My husband.” She looked into Drogon’s amber-red eyes, then Tessarion’s bronze ones, and then Vyrmax’s citrine-gold. Through the bond, she unfurled her feelings for Jon: love and joy and fear and welcome and worry. Her dragons watched her husband. To his credit, Jon bore their scrutiny well, calm and focused. Not even her bloodriders could boast that. Vyrmax broke the moment by slithering down her leg to sniff at Jon’s boot. Tessarion followed suit, while Drogon was content at his usual place on her right shoulder.  

“Husband, khaleesi? Is this so?” Rakharo asked, eyebrows raised so high they nearly disappeared into his hairline. Whispers rippled through the gathering. Hard black eyes scrutinized Jon. Another thing he bore well. No doubt he had been bearing up under harsher scrutiny since he was born, due to the circumstances of his birth.

“It is,” Jon said, “wed in King’s Landing some sennight ago.” Though his attention was fixed on her dragons, Daenerys could hear the steel in his tone. Vyrmax tilted his head this way and that, clicking in a friendly dragon greeting to Jon. The wonder hadn’t left Jon’s eyes and he squatted down to offer his flattened palm. Vyrmax hissed and scurried back to cling to her leg.  

“Irri, Jhiqui could we have baths drawn? I would like to wash off the memory of the poison water,” Daenerys said. Her handmaidens giggled and did as they were bid. Later, after rest and refreshment, she and Jon would join her people. They would see him as she did: brave and strong, kind and trustworthy.

“As you say, khaleesi. I am eager to hear tales of the Sunset Lands,” Rakharo said, “I’ll leave you to your rest.”

Daenerys ducked under the lintel and waited for Jon to follow. She looked about the tent, trying to see it through his eyes. The interior was cool and dim. A section of either end was raised partway to allow in any breeze. Woven grass mats covered the floor with cushions scattered here and there. Her bed was a heap of sleeping furs with a few plump embroidered pillows. At the foot of the bed was a battered chest that held Daenerys’ clothing and possessions. Sitting atop it were two candles on either side of a clay bowl. In it were the shards of her children’s eggs, gleaming like jewels in the light. An oil lamp hung suspended from the central pole, casting wavering light in spangled shapes. Blue threads of incense burned, filling the room with the scent of wildflowers. Not a palace or a castle, but clean and comfortable. Home.  

Her dragons flapped to settle on the rug, snapping and pawing at each other. Jon set down his pack, the whole of his worldly belongings was even less than hers. A prince scratching out a place to sleep in the dirt. Anxiety wound her belly taut. Was it too wild, too rash a choice? Chewing on her lip, Daenerys took a moment to furtively admire him. Even sweating, with dusty boots and trousers, Jon was more handsome than any man had a right to be. The hard neat lines of him. That lovely wild hair, his stormy eyes, his square jaw and full lips. His curls disliked the more humid air of Essos and lay in a riotous tangle around his face. Perspiration gleamed on his skin. He rubbed his mouth, eyes wandering over his surroundings. Tessarion climbed up to his niche. Vyrmax nipped at Drogon’s tail. Drogon snarled at his brother, bursting into flight. His wing knocked the oil lamp. It jangled in protest.

“Drogon, zohhe!” {Down!} Daenerys said sharply. Drogon settled on her shoulder, butting her chin with his head.

“Don’t fight with your brother,” she said in Dothraki, setting him in his niche. Vyrmax, not one to be left out, picked his way up her leg. She kissed his frilled head and set him in the nest of straw.

Jhiqui ducked through the leather partition with a whisper of sandsilk.

“Your meal, khaleesi,” she said, setting the tray down on the low table along with a clay carafe. Steam floated up in white tendrils along with a tantalizing savory aroma. Daenerys’ mouth filled with water. It had been much too long since the stale biscuits on the ship. Skewers of goat meat roasted in garlic and black pepper, spiced goat cheese, round loaves of brown bread speckled with seeds and—

“Lemon cakes?” Daenerys asked, delighted. Jhiqui’s smile was broad.

“Yes, khaleesi. I tell the cooks to make your favorites for your return.”

“You spoil me,” Daenerys said, kissing her cheeks. Jhiqui shrugged, uncomfortable with thanks as most Dothraki were. Another thing Daenerys planned to change.

“Irri draws your bath, yours and . . . and the khal’s,” she said with a wary glance towards Jon.

“My thanks,” Jon said with a nod. Dothraki followed strength, her strength in walking through the flames and birthing her dragons. Jon had proven his valor in fighting the corsairs on the ship, but some of her khalasar might cling to stubbornness. Jhiqui took her leave. Daenerys knelt and settled on a cushion at the table, pouring two horn cups of water.

“Are you well enough to eat, Jon?”

“Aye. It smells delicious. I think I could eat a whole side of beef myself,” he said with his half-smile, half-grimace. Daenerys giggled.

“Perhaps I could teach you Valyrian. To speak to your dragons.” Daenerys nodded, covering his hand with hers. Jon twisted his wrist to hold her hand.  

“I would love that, thank you,” she said. He shrugged, as uncomfortable with attention as her Dothraki.

“You are a daughter of Valyria as well.” She made a mental note to speak with her bloodriders on fitting Jon with Dothraki clothing. Sandsilk and rider’s trousers breathed easier than Westerosi leathers. They slaked their thirst and sated their hunger with alacrity. The two of them shared a plate, teasing morsels from the skewers, tearing bread to scoop up the cheese. Jon offered her a bite and she nibbled delicately from his hand, ‘accidentally’ tracing her tongue over his knuckle. Jon’s lips parted, eyes dark and longing.

“Dany,” he whispered, “forgive me. I’ve been . . . boorish.”

“You’ve been ill. Ill and injured--”

“That’s no excuse for snapping at you like a jackal,” he said. Daenerys uttered a rueful laugh.

“You’re forgiven, Jon. It has been a tumultuous wedding week, hmm?” Jon gave her a solemn nod.

“Though . . . I could use some tending,” he said.

Daenerys moved to rise.

“Do you need a healer? Jon, you should have said something--”

Jon grasped her wrist and tugged her down for a slow, drugging kiss. Mm, oh yes. Arousal unfurled, hot and sweet. Daenerys bit her lip.

“Would the khaleesi tend me?” he whispered, turning his attention to her hand. He pressed hot kisses on the tender skin of her wrist, her palm, her thumb. Daenerys shivered.

“Gods, Jon. Yes.”

Jon pulled her to her feet, seizing her mouth. Daenerys whimpered. His kisses melted and inflamed her. She lost herself in the sweet duel of hungry lips and tongues, twining her arms around his neck. Her fingers sank into fistfuls of the thick hair at his nape. Gods, he filled her senses. He smelled of sweat and leather and male. He tasted of salt and the lingering tang of meat. Warm, rough hands smoothed over her body, tugging and insistent at the laces of her trousers. He slid a hand down to caress her, gentle fingers fluttered along her inner seam. He found her wet, already greedy for him. Daenerys squirmed, straining her tiptoes as he circled her pearl. The pleasure was sweet. So achingly sweet. It made her throb and thrash in his grip.  

“Fuck, Dany,” he panted, tracing his tongue over the shell of her ear. As she peeled off his jerkin, his pale skin gleamed in the low light. They parted only to pull off their boots and shuck off their trousers. Jon made a sound very much like a growl, seizing her bodily. Daenerys hummed in approval, notching her arms and legs around him. A loud hiss broke the haze. Three pairs of eyes watched them. Amber-red, bronze, and gold.

“Will they eat me, do you think? For touching their mother?” Jon said, gently biting her bare shoulder.

“Hmm, depends on how well you treat me,” she teased. Jon chuckled, kissing the underside of her chin. Daenerys gripped his hair, moving his head so she could kiss him. Yes, so good. Daenerys sucked on his tongue. Ground her hips against the hot throb of his cock trapped against her mound, weeping silky fluid. They fell back onto her bed of furs. The musty smell and sleek texture felt sumptuous on her bare skin. Jon ground his hips into the cradle of hers. Daenerys tightened her thighs and twisted, rolling Jon beneath her. Jon craned his neck to kiss and suck on her nipples. The pleasure was sharper, hotter. The pressure of his thick cock against her—oh gods. The crest swept her up.

“Yes,” he hissed. Jon twisted her beneath him and slid inside her. Daenerys gasped. Jon cradled her head, watching her face, her eyes as he thrust.

“Daenerys. My wonder, my wife, my love,” Jon whispered against her lips. Daenerys scraped the thick flexing muscles of his back, his buttocks, spurring him on.  Jon rose up on his hands, thrusting deeper, faster. Tendons stood out on his neck.

“Dany, I’m—oh gods!” he said, throwing his head back as he spilled inside her. Gods, she loved it when he let go. His pleasure brought on hers. A glorious clenching euphoria. In the sweat-slick aftermath, Daenerys kissed his neck, petting his hair. They drowsed in silence for a while. A faint clap outside.

“Your bath, khaleesi. When you’re ready,” Jhiqui’s voice floated in from outside. Jon cursed and rolled off of her. Wild-eyed, he clutched one of her furs. Daenerys laughed.

“Do you think they heard us?” Jon asked. Her mighty, brooding husband was blushing!

“Of course they did. The Dothraki think me prudish for needing walls at all. It is sacred in their culture to couple beneath an open sky.” Daenerys drew him down for a lingering kiss.

“Don’t worry, my love. I’ll guard your virtue.”            

[aboveallarescuer]

Dany considering, threatening to take and/or taking violent measures

As I was rereading ASOIAF, I made it my goal to compile all* the book passages demonstrating either certain key attributes of Daenerys Targaryen (e.g. that she's compassionate and smart) or aspects of hers that are usually overstated (e.g. that she's ambitious and prophecy-driven).  Doing such a task may seem exaggerated, but I'd argue it's not, for many, many misconceptions about Dany have become widespread in light of the show's final season's events (and even before).

It must be acknowledged that it can be tricky to reference, say, ADWD passages to counter-argument how she was depicted in season eight (which allegedly follows ADOS events). Dany will have had plenty of character development in the span of two books. However, whatever happens to Dany in the next two books, I would argue that there is more than enough material to conclude that her show counterpart was made to fall for flaws that she (for the most part) never had and actions that she (for the most part) would never take. (and that's not even considering the double standards and the contradictions with what had been shown from show!Dany up until then, but that's obviously out of the scope of these lists)

Another objection to the purpose of these lists is that Game of Thrones is different from A Song of Ice and Fire and should be analyzed on its own, which is a fair point. However, the show is also an adaptation of these books, which begs the questions: why did they change Dany's character? Why did they overfocus on negative traits of hers or depicted them as negative when they weren't supposed to be or gave her negative traits that were never hers to begin with? Another fact that undermines the show=/=books argument is that most people think that the show's ending will be the books', albeit only in broad strokes and in different circumstances. As a result, people's perception of Dany is inevitably influenced by the show, which is a shame.

I hope these lists can be useful for whoever wants to find book passages to defend (or even simply explore different facets of) Dany's character in metas or conversations.

*Well, at least all the passages that I could find in her chapters, which is no guarantee that the effort was perfectly executed, but I did my best.

Also, people could interpret certain passages differently and then come up with a different collection of passages if they ever attempted to make one, so I'm not saying that this list is completely objective (nor that there could ever be one).

Also, some passages have been cut short according to whether they were, IMO, relevant to the specific topic of the list they're in, so the context surrounding them may not always be clear (always read the books and use asearchoficeandfire). Many of them appear in different lists, sometimes fully referenced, sometimes not.

I listed the passages back to front because I felt doing so highlighted Dany's evolution better.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To justify the existence of this list, let's see examples of widespread opinions that I feel misrepresent Daenerys Targaryen:

It's just time that we acknowledge that Daenerys' behavior over the past few seasons has been more of someone with an overinflated ego and an limitless sense of entitlement than that of a ruler with the well-being of their subjects and land in mind. If I can really spill the tea, she's acting a lot like the Mad King as well as Cersei, who's currently acting all type of the fool on the Iron Throne. Violence may be a necessary evil, but like...do we really have to burn everybody alive? Is that really what we want for Westeros? (x)

~

[S]he’d rather slaughter her enemies than use them to her advantage. Sure, sometimes you need a good slaughter, but you have to be willing to try diplomacy, too. (x)

~

The issue isn’t whether it’s better if the slave cities remained slave cities — it goes without saying, that’s reprehensible. But her most striking moments ruling Meereen are quite sadistic in nature. In season four, when the Meereenese crucify slave children as a threat to Dany, she responds by crucifying an equal number of noblemen once she takes over the city, despite Ser Barristan’s pleas for mercy; “I will answer injustice with justice,” she coolly responds. Revisiting that scene, it’s pretty disturbing. What starts out as a moment of joyous liberation — and the slaves chanting “Mhysa!” her way — ends with the anguished screams of the newly crucified Meereenese across the city.

Fast forward to season five, when Ser Barristan is unceremoniously murdered in an alley by the Sons of the Harpy, Dany rounds up Meereen’s elected leaders to interrogate them and find out who among them could be a secret Harpy. To establish she’s not fucking around, she picks one of them at random to be burned alive and subsequently eaten by two of her dragons. She’s not just content with her decision; despite not getting any answers, Dany’s entranced by the sight of her dragons and the burning fire.

Dany’s fascination with fire — not to mention her nonchalant attitude toward violence — bears an uncomfortable resemblance to her father, the “Mad King” Aerys Targaryen. (x)

Are Dany's acts of violence supposed to make you wonder if she's going to "burn everybody alive"? Are her acts of violence "quite sadistic in nature"? Does she feel "entranced by the sight of her dragons and the burning fire" and has a "fascination with fire"?

I would argue GRRM has written a character who only chooses violence either for humanitarian reasons or for political goals (which are often intertwined), and even in the latter case, she seeks to avoid collateral damage (ASOS Dany III, ASOS Dany IV). She's not immune to acting on vengeance, but so far it's always been motivated by the injustices perpetrated upon others (ASOS Dany VI, ADWD Dany II); you can argue that "harsh justice", as she puts it, is not justice, but you can't argue that she's doing it for them. The one exception to this is her burning of Mirri Maz Duur, but even then, it is not because she is "sadistic", she explicitly recognizes the futility of vengeance. She kills her because she needs her life for the ritual that culminates with the birth of the dragons. You could argue Mirri didn't deserve it, but Mirri also killed her child and left Drogo in a comatose state. And she lives in a society that largely normalizes violence. Dany's entire characterization must be taken into consideration.

With that in mind, there is no textual evidence to suggest she will decide to burn every noncombatant she can find because she was unhappy about their reception. None. She fights to be queen because she wants to protect the ones who can't protect themselves and it is her duty towards her lost family. She carries unbearable guilt over her mistakes (or ramifications that had nothing to do with her). She treats her achievements and inheritances as a duty rather than as something that elevates her beyond others. She wants a home for herself and peace for everyone.

I should also add that the list about the moments showcasing her empathy and compassion is more than four times bigger than this one. One can argue I'm being biased, but it says something that passages showing instances when she does take violent measures would not fill a whole list. I also had to look for moments when she considers or threatens to in order to fill this one. And even then, her positive aspects greatly surpass her "negative" ones. Why would GRRM focus so much more on her sympathy towards others rather than on her ruthlessness? Must be because Daenerys Targaryen is ultimately meant to be a sympathetic character who is not supposed to turn into a mass murderer of her own volition, ever.

A Dance with Dragons

ADWD Daenerys VIII

The hall rang to Yunkish laughter, Yunkish songs, Yunkish prayers. Dancers danced; musicians played queer tunes with bells and squeaks and bladders; singers sang ancient love songs in the incomprehensible tongue of Old Ghis. Wine flowed—not the thin pale stuff of Slaver’s Bay but rich sweet vintages from the Arbor and dreamwine from Qarth, flavored with strange spices. The Yunkai’i had come at King Hizdahr’s invitation, to sign the peace and witness the rebirth of Meereen’s far-famed fighting pits. Her noble husband had opened the Great Pyramid to fete them.

I hate this, thought Daenerys Targaryen. How did this happen, that I am drinking and smiling with men I’d sooner flay?

~

“You don’t never want to trust a sellsword, m’lady.”

“I have learned that much. One day I must be sure to thank you for the lesson.”

~

“Is there some man in the Second Sons who might be persuaded to … remove … Brown Ben?”

“As Daario Naharis once removed the other captains of the Stormcrows?” The old knight looked uncomfortable. “Perhaps. I would not know, Your Grace.”

No, she thought, you are too honest and too honorable. “If not, the Yunkai’i employ three other companies.”

“Rogues and cutthroats, scum of a hundred battlefields,” Ser Barristan warned, “with captains full as treacherous as Plumm.”

“I am only a young girl and know little of such things, but it seems to me that we want them to be treacherous. Once, you’ll recall, I convinced the Second Sons and Stormcrows to join us.”

“If Your Grace wishes a privy word with Gylo Rhegan or the Tattered Prince, I could bring them up to your apartments.”

“This is not the time. Too many eyes, too many ears. Their absence would be noted even if you could separate them discreetly from the Yunkai’i. We must find some quieter way of reaching out to them … not tonight, but soon.”

“As you command. Though I fear this is not a task for which I am well suited. In King’s Landing work of this sort was left to Lord Littlefinger or the Spider. We old knights are simple men, only good for fighting.” He patted his sword hilt.

“Our prisoners,” suggested Dany. “The Westerosi who came over from the Windblown with the three Dornishmen. We still have them in cells, do we not? Use them.”

“Free them, you mean? Is that wise? They were sent here to worm their way into your trust, so they might betray Your Grace at the first chance.”

“Then they failed. I do not trust them. I will never trust them.” If truth be told, Dany was forgetting how to trust. “We can still use them. One was a woman. Meris. Send her back, as a … a gesture of my regard. If their captain is a clever man, he will understand.”

“The woman is the worst of all.”

“All the better.” Dany considered a moment. “We should sound out the Long Lances too. And the Company of the Cat.”

“Bloodbeard.” Ser Barristan’s frown deepened. “If it please Your Grace, we want no part of him. Your Grace is too young to remember the Ninepenny Kings, but this Bloodbeard is cut from the same savage cloth. There is no honor in him, only hunger … for gold, for glory, for blood.”

“You know more of such men than me, ser.” If Bloodbeard might be truly the most dishonorable and greedy of the sellswords, he might be the easiest to sway, but she was loath to go against Ser Barristan’s counsel in such matters. “Do as you think best. But do it soon. If Hizdahr’s peace should break, I want to be ready. I do not trust the slavers.” I do not trust my husband. “They will turn on us at the first sign of weakness.”

“The Yunkai’i grow weaker as well. The bloody flux has taken hold amongst the Tolosi, it is said, and spread across the river to the third Ghiscari legion.”

The pale mare. Daenerys sighed. Quaithe warned me of the pale mare’s coming. She told me of the Dornish prince as well, the sun’s son. She told me much and more, but all in riddles. “I cannot rely on plague to save me from my enemies. Set Pretty Meris free. At once.”

ADWD Daenerys VI

“If we should wed by Westerosi rites …”

“The gods of Ghis would deem it no true union.” Galazza Galare’s face was hidden behind a veil of green silk. Only her eyes showed, green and wise and sad. “In the eyes of the city you would be the noble Hizdahr’s concubine, not his lawful wedded wife. Your children would be bastards. Your Worship must marry Hizdahr in the Temple of the Graces, with all the nobility of Meereen on hand to bear witness to your union.”

Get the heads of all the noble houses out of their pyramids on some pretext, Daario had said. The dragon’s words are fire and blood. Dany pushed the thought aside. It was not worthy of her. “As you wish,” she sighed.

~

Dany filled his wine cup again, wanting nothing so much as to pour the flagon over his head and drown his complacent smile.

~

She wanted to scream, to gnash her teeth and tear her clothes and beat upon the floor. Instead she said, “Close the gates. Will you make me say it thrice?” They were her children, but she could not help them now.

ADWD Daenerys IV

“The Shavepate has ways of finding the truth.”

“I do not doubt that Skahaz would soon have me confessing. A day with him, and I will be one of the Harpy’s Sons. Two days, and I will be the Harpy. Three, and it will turn out I slew your father too, back in the Sunset Kingdoms when I was yet a boy. Then he will impale me on a stake and you can watch me die … but afterward the killings will go on.”

ADWD Daenerys III

“The Wise Masters should follow their example. I spared Yunkai before, but I will not make that mistake again. If they should dare attack me, this time I shall raze their Yellow City to the ground.”

~

“Have you forgotten? I have dragons.” [...]

“My dragons have grown, my shoulders have not. They range far afield, hunting.” Hazzea, forgive me. She wondered how much Xaro knew, what whispers he had heard. “Ask the Good Masters of Astapor about my dragons if you doubt them.” I saw a slaver’s eyes melt and go running down his cheeks.

~

Westeros. Home. But if she left, what would happen to her city? Meereen was never your city, her brother’s voice seemed to whisper. Your cities are across the sea. Your Seven Kingdoms, where your enemies await you. You were born to serve them blood and fire.

~

“Xaro Xhoan Daxos does not threaten. He promises.”

Her sadness turned to fury. “And I promise you that if you are not gone before the sun comes up, we will learn how well a liar’s tears can quench dragonfire. Leave me, Xaro. Quickly.”

ADWD Daenerys II

Mercy, thought Dany. They will have the dragon’s mercy. “Skahaz, I have changed my mind. Question the man sharply.”

“I could. Or I could question the daughters sharply whilst the father looks on. That will wring some names from him.”

“Do as you think best, but bring me names.” Her fury was a fire in her belly.

~

She was the blood of the dragon. She could kill the Sons of the Harpy, and the sons of the sons, and the sons of the sons of the sons. But a dragon could not feed a hungry child nor help a dying woman’s pain. And who would ever dare to love a dragon?

~

She sniffed suspiciously at Reznak mo Reznak. I could command the Shavepate to arrest him and put him to the question. Would that forestall the prophecy? Or would some other betrayer take his place?

ADWD Daenerys I

Dany said a silent prayer that somewhere one of the Harpy’s Sons was dying even now, clutching at his belly and writhing in pain.

~

Daenerys pushed her hair back. “Find these cowards for me. Find them, so that I might teach the Harpy’s Sons what it means to wake the dragon.”

~

She had not forgotten the slave children the Great Masters had nailed up along the road from Yunkai. They had numbered one hundred sixty-three, a child every mile, nailed to mileposts with one arm outstretched to point her way. After Meereen had fallen, Dany had nailed up a like number of Great Masters. Swarms of flies had attended their slow dying, and the stench had lingered long in the plaza. Yet some days she feared that she had not gone far enough. These Meereenese were a sly and stubborn people who resisted her at every turn.

~

“...Women do not forget. Women do not forgive.”

No, Dany thought, and the Usurper’s dogs will learn that, when I return to Westeros.

~

There were times when Dany wondered if that razor might not be better saved for Reznak’s throat. He was a useful man, but she liked him little and trusted him less. The Undying of Qarth had told her she would be thrice betrayed. Mirri Maz Duur had been the first, Ser Jorah the second. Would Reznak be the third? The Shavepate? Daario? Or will it be someone I would never suspect, Ser Barristan or Grey Worm or Missandei?

A Storm of Swords

ASOS Daenerys VI

“I want your leaders,” Dany told them. “Give them up, and the rest of you shall be spared.”

“How many?” one old woman had asked, sobbing. “How many must you have to spare us?”

“One hundred and sixty-three,” she answered.

She had them nailed to wooden posts around the plaza, each man pointing at the next. The anger was fierce and hot inside her when she gave the command; it made her feel like an avenging dragon. But later, when she passed the men dying on the posts, when she heard their moans and smelled their bowels and blood ...

Dany put the glass aside, frowning. It was just. It was. I did it for the children.

~

Dany remembered the horror she had felt when she had seen the Plaza of Punishment in Astapor. I made a horror just as great, but surely they deserved it. Harsh justice is still justice.

~

“Do not ever presume to touch me again, or to speak my name. You have until dawn to collect your things and leave this city. If you’re found in Meereen past break of day, I will have Strong Belwas twist your head off. I will. Believe that.”

ASOS Daenerys V

Worst of all, they had nailed a slave child up on every milepost along the coast road from Yunkai, nailed them up still living with their entrails hanging out and one arm always outstretched to point the way to Meereen. [...] “I will see them,” she said. “I will see every one, and count them, and look upon their faces. And I will remember.”

ASOS Daenerys IV

“I say, you are mad.”

“Am I?” Dany shrugged, and said, “Dracarys.”

The dragons answered. Rhaegal hissed and smoked, Viserion snapped, and Drogon spat swirling red-black flame. It touched the drape of Grazdan’s tokar, and the silk caught in half a heartbeat. Golden marks spilled across the carpets as the envoy stumbled over the chest, shouting curses and beating at his arm until Whitebeard flung a flagon of water over him to douse the flames. “You swore I should have safe conduct! “ the Yunkish envoy wailed.

“Do all the Yunkai’i whine so over a singed tokar? I shall buy you a new one ... if you deliver up your slaves within three days. Elsewise, Drogon shall give you a warmer kiss.”

ASOS Daenerys III

“He will not come,” Kraznys said.

“There is a reason. A dragon is no slave.” And Dany swept the lash down as hard as she could across the slaver’s face. Kraznys screamed and staggered back, the blood running red down his cheeks into his perfumed beard. The harpy’s fingers had torn his features half to pieces with one slash, but she did not pause to contemplate the ruin. “Drogon,” she sang out loudly, sweetly, all her fear forgotten. “Dracarys.”

The black dragon spread his wings and roared.

[...] “Unsullied!” Dany galloped before them, her silver-gold braid flying behind her, her bell chiming with every stride. “Slay the Good Masters, slay the soldiers, slay every man who wears a tokar or holds a whip, but harm no child under twelve, and strike the chains off every slave you see.” She raised the harpy’s fingers in the air ... and then she flung the scourge aside. “Freedom!” she sang out. “Dracarys! Dracarys!”

“Dracarys!” they shouted back, the sweetest word she’d ever heard. “Dracarys! Dracarys!” And all around them slavers ran and sobbed and begged and died, and the dusty air was filled with spears and fire.

ASOS Daenerys I

[“]The warlocks said the second treason would be for gold. What does Illyrio Mopatis love more than gold?”

“His skin.” Across the cabin Drogon stirred restlessly, steam rising from his snout. “Mirri Maz Duur betrayed me. I burned her for it.”

A Clash of Kings

ACOK Daenerys III

“I mean to sail to Westeros, and drink the wine of vengeance from the skull of the Usurper.”

[...] “Will nothing turn you from this madness?”

“Nothing,” she said, wishing she was as certain as she sounded.

A Game of Thrones

AGOT Daenerys X

“I am tired of the maegi’s braying,” Dany told Jhogo. He took his whip to her, and after that the godswife kept silent.

~

As she climbed down off the pyre, she noticed Mirri Maz Duur watching her. “You are mad,” the godswife said hoarsely.

“Is it so far from madness to wisdom?” Dany asked. “Ser Jorah, take this maegi and bind her to the pyre.”

“To the ... my queen, no, hear me ...”

“Do as I say.” Still he hesitated, until her anger flared. “You swore to obey me, whatever might come. Rakharo, help him.”

[...] “I thank you, Mirri Maz Duur,” she said, “for the lessons you have taught me.”

“You will not hear me scream,” Mirri responded as the oil dripped from her hair and soaked her clothing.

“I will,” Dany said, “but it is not your screams I want, only your life. I remember what you told me. Only death can pay for life.”

AGOT Daenerys IX

“Eroeh?” asked Dany, remembering the frightened child she had saved outside the city of the Lamb Men.

“Mago seized her, who is Khal Jhaqo’s bloodrider now,” said Jhogo. “He mounted her high and low and gave her to his khal, and Jhaqo gave her to his other bloodriders. They were six. When they were done with her, they cut her throat.”

“It was her fate, Khaleesi,” said Aggo.


If I look back I am lost. “It was a cruel fate,” Dany said, “yet not so cruel as Mago’s will be. I promise you that, by the old gods and the new, by the lamb god and the horse god and every god that lives. I swear it by the Mother of Mountains and the Womb of the World. Before I am done with them, Mago and Ko Jhaqo will plead for the mercy they showed Eroeh.”

The Dothraki exchanged uncertain glances. “Khaleesi,” the handmaid Irri explained, as if to a child, “Jhaqo is a khal now, with twenty thousand riders at his back.”

She lifted her head. “And I am Daenerys Stormhorn, Daenerys of House Targaryen, of the blood of Aegon the Conqueror and Maegor the Cruel and old Valyria before them. I am the dragon’s daughter, and I swear to you, these men will die screaming. Now bring me to Khal Drogo.”

~

Dany called out for the men of her khas and bid them take Mirri Maz Duur and bind her hand and foot, but the maegi smiled at her as they carried her off, as if they shared a secret. A word, and Dany could have her head off ... yet then what would she have? A head? If life was worthless, what was death?

AGOT Daenerys VIII

“You do not command me, Khaleesi,” Qotho said.

“Find Mirri Maz Duur,” she told him. The godswife would be walking among the other Lamb Men, in the long column of slaves. “Bring her to me, with her chest.”

Qotho glared down at her, his eyes hard as flint. “The maegi.” He spat. “This I will not do.”

“You will,” Dany said, “or when Drogo wakes, he will hear why you defied me.”

~

Eroeh stared fearfully at Drogo where he lay. “He dies,” she whispered.

Dany slapped her. “The khal cannot die. He is the father of the stallion who mounts the world. His hair has never been cut. He still wears the bells his father gave him.”

“Khaleesi,” Jhiqui said, “he fell from his horse.”

Trembling, her eyes full of sudden tears, Dany turned away from them.

~

Only a horse, Dany thought. If she could buy Drogo’s life with the death of a horse, she would pay a thousand times over.

~

She caught him by the shoulder, but Qotho shoved her aside. Dany fell to her knees, crossing her arms over her belly to protect the child within. “Stop him,” she commanded her khas, “kill him.”

AGOT Daenerys VII

“I will not have her harmed,” Dany said. “I claim her. Do as I command you, or Khal Drogo will know the reason why.”

AGOT Daenerys VI

“You will drink,” Dany said, cold as ice. “Empty the cup, or I will tell them to hold you down while Ser Jorah pours the whole cask down your throat.”

~

His khalasar left Vaes Dothrak two days later, striking south and west across the plains. Khal Drogo led them on his great red stallion, with Daenerys beside him on her silver. The wineseller hurried behind them, naked, on foot, chained at throat and wrists. His chains were fastened to the halter of Dany’s silver. As she rode, he ran after her, barefoot and stumbling. No harm would come to him ... so long as he kept up.

AGOT Daenerys IV

“I am the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, not some grass-stained savage with bells in his hair,” Viserys spat back at her. He grabbed her arm. “You forget yourself, slut. Do you think that big belly will protect you if you wake the dragon?”

His fingers dug into her arm painfully and for an instant Dany felt like a child again, quailing in the face of his rage. She reached out with her other hand and grabbed the first thing she touched, the belt she’d hoped to give him, a heavy chain of ornate bronze medallions. She swung it with all her strength.

It caught him full in the face. Viserys let go of her. Blood ran down his cheek where the edge of one of the medallions had sliced it open. “You are the one who forgets himself,” Dany said to him. “Didn’t you learn anything that day in the grass? Leave me now, before I summon my khas to drag you out. And pray that Khal Drogo does not hear of this, or he will cut open your belly and feed you your own entrails.”