sansa antis are so funny to me because like. we have a book full of character that straight up commited war crimes. we have a guy who tried to murder a 7 y.o. twice. we have a rich guy who kills a sex worker for testifying against him. we have a girl who tries to kill her brother for being disabled. we have a guy who straight up kills and tortures people as a form of entertainment. we have a guy who strikes his wife. we have tywin fucking lannister. we have a guy who repeatedly rapes his childbride. we have a guy who sold people to slavery. we have a guy who kills his own brother and also burns people alive. we have a guy who likes murdering people. the list is endless. but noooo, the character you hate the most is this 11 y.o. girl, who is mean to her sister and isn't just smart enough to understand political schemes and manipulation tactics. a terrible, vile creature.
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Book 1, the Targaryen / Dothraki alliance
Much like the Stark family portrait there's this sad nostalgia felt when looking back at all these doomed characters. I mean I was cheering when a certain brother died but still, the road ahead of them is dangerous.
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Until Sunrise - A Khal Drogo/Reader One Shot Story.
So I was feeling a certain way about Jason Momoa, and realised that it is absolutely uncalled for that I have not yet written for my favourite character of his! I’ve no idea how alive/dead the GoT fandom is (I’m expecting dead, lol!) but I’ve tagged anyone I can think who might be interested, or because I know whatever form he’s presented in, you like him because he’s Jason motherfucking Momoa. As you should.
Words - 1,375
Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!
The moments you lived for; they were only ever fleeting at best. He would send for you, as he always did, picking one of his favourites from the tent of women devoted entirely to keeping the Khal content, eyes that burned with envy following you as you departed, ready for him. They always did.
Walking over the dried-up terrain, you cast your eyes to the sky, seeing the moon beginning to rise, knowing the silver orb will be glowing fully through the inky night sky by the time he’s done having his way with you. He never allows you to remain until sunrise.
Entering his tent, you find him standing in wait for you, the splendour of his nakedness appealing as always, approaching with long strides and taking you roughly by the arm, as is Drogo’s way. He rarely shows anything less than dominant claiming, towing you to his bed, making short work of your clothes.
“How do you want me tonight, my Khal?” you ask, your Dothraki flawless. He does speak the common tongue, much more than he would ever let on, yet you have only ever communicated with him in his own language.
He takes a moment for contemplation, his finger running along your jawline. “Face down, backside up.” Not surprising. He always prefers to take you from behind. You feel his weight dip the bed behind you, one hand placed at the top of your spine, the other beginning to stroke at you. His hand is oiled, as is his only real consideration for you, that you be slippery enough to sheathe his huge cock. Foreplay is a word unknown to him, in any language.
It is surprising to you, as your folds are parted, that he simply hasn’t done the minimal to wet your walls and swiftly breech you, his fingers touring you, exploring the petal soft flesh of your sex. Those slippery fingertips swirl around, until they reach your little bud, a soft gasp fluttering from your lips, Drogo focusing in on it.
“Good?"
You are confused, pleasantly, though. “Yes, my Khal."
He takes a moment of pause, ceasing the rubbing. “Truly? Or do you just speak this to pacify me?" He leans to you, his breath hot against the back of your neck. “Tell me how you like it.”
You are too scared of sparking his terrifying rage to even question why he cares, only pleasantly surprised that for once, he actually does. “A little softer to begin with, less pressure.” When his fingers begin to circle again, it’s pure bliss, your lips parting on a soft moan. “Just like that, my Khal.”
He straightens, his dark eyes watching, enchanted by the sight of you spread before him, his fingers quickening a little, dragging them back and forth, offering the same at your entrance, your arousal bathing them. He likes that, the feel of wet silk warming his fingertips, pushing them inside of you, a grumble rattling his throat.
“Soaking,” he grunts, dragging them back, returning to your aching bud. “You feel beautiful.” It must be different for him, to feel the arousal of a woman, since you can bet he never really has before. He oils each whore, dousing his cock, fucking them until he dances with the stars before they are cast aside, their purpose served.
Little glimmers skitter over your nerves, pleasure beginning to make you trickle hot for him, Drogo shifting, removing his hand as he crouches behind you, replacing the contact with his tongue.
“Oh, gods above!” you hiss, the warmth of his mouth stoking your fire, the very first you’ve ever had settle between your legs and indulge you in the hot, flat wet of long, languid licks.
“Turn.” He demands, his rough hands parting your thighs as soon as you are upon your back, his mouth reconnecting with you, greedy, his beard rubbing against you as he licks at the honey of your cunt. “Still good?”
“Incredible!” you cry, your hands clutching the pelts you lie upon. “Please, do not stop!”
A smirk tilts his full lips, his eyes finding yours over the rise of your breasts, tongue rapidly placing a firm lick over your bud. “She demands of her Khal?”
He sounds more amused than anything, but to hear the tinge of balefulness, of him bringing you back to yourself, you fluster a little. “I... but what I mean to say is... I...”
He moves until his face is above yours, placing a finger to your lips, and a kiss to your throat. “Quiet with your words. No more talking, but you will let me hear how much you enjoy it.” Moving back to your apex, each lick he bestows to you is a rain of celestial decadence, tongue beating over the swell of your clit, the nectar of your arousal soaking his lips as he eats you feverishly, without pause, like a starving wolf would gorge upon the carcass of a deer.
“Oh, you are divine, my Khal!” you cry, incoherence following as he sucks upon you, cheeks hollowing, his eyes almost black, pupils blown with lust as he grunts against the sopping mess of your cunt, enjoying you in his mouth. That is until he moves to arrow himself into your soaking centre, the many inches of his girthy cock splitting you wide, his mouth closing in a hard suck upon your nipple.
“Drogo,” he breathes, tongue beating over the little stiffened peak. “I want to hear my name upon your lips.” He grasps your jaw, turning your head to face him, eyes homed in upon you in an unbreakable stare.
Your mouths meet in a feverish kiss, a clash of tongues and teeth, your moans spilling from your lips onto his like wine. “You are divine, Drogo.” Taking him is like taking an entire storm within you, Drogo moving to kneel before you, grasping your thighs as his eyes fall to watch his glossy cock daggering into you deeply, an earthy rumble of a groan filling the air.
You are singed upon the heat he drives into you, cool fire flooding your veins, freezing and melting you again right to your very marrow as he pounds into your cunt, evoking your wails, your hands reaching to stroke the wide plane of muscles across his broad chest. The dark of his pubic hair glints in the candlelight, soaked from the dew of your cunt, your eyes falling to view it, to witness how his cock looks as it parts your walls again and again.
It is a sight you have never beheld before, only ever being taken from behind, your eyes fixated on how sumptuously erotic it is, to watch how good he looks inside of you, his hands beginning to stroke your skin as a bonfire of pure sinful bliss rages between you.
He moves his hand to your face, thumb dragging over your lips until they part, pushing it into your mouth. “Get it wet.” You meet his simple demand, sucking on it until it is as he requires, Drogo moving it to begin stroking at your clit once more. It’s more than you can handle, and he knows it, smirking down at you once again until his face contorts in bliss, grunting deeply as he gives his cock with keen thrusts, the sounds of your sweaty flesh smacking together filling the tent.
He moves within you with nothing short of brutal voracity, until you can feel it radiating through you, stars sweeping from the strokes of his thumb as your light begins to shine out over his horizon, your body blooming as you fall apart around him, the fluttering of your cunt dragging his release from him. Thick ropes of cum paint your pulsing walls as he spills into you deep, breathless and spent, pulling from you and resting down on his back.
You know that this is your cue to get up and leave quietly, yet when you rise, your escape from the bed is halted by a large hand splayed to your chest, Drogo pushing you back down. An arm slides beneath your shoulders, your Khal pulling you against his chest, fingers stroking swirls over your arm.
"Stay."
And you do. Until the sun rises.
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How they react to...You being good with a sword
A/N: Not my best work but I'm open to feedback!
Characters: Ned Stark, Margaery Tyrell, Sandor Clegane, Sansa Stark, Khal Drogo, Brienne of Tarth, Missandei, Podrick, Jorah Mormont
TW: Horny characters, violence?
Ned Stark: You'd both be out watching Robb, Jon, and Theon practicing with their swords in the court yard. Jon's kicking both of their asses and it's getting hard to watch so you excuse yourself from Ned's side. Walking down to the courtyard, you grab a sword and show them defensive and offensive positions. Ned almost objects as you begin but seeing his kids take your advice so seriously he smiles. If the boys can respect you as a teacher then so could he. Now, He didn't like the idea of you being in a situation where you have to use a sword but knowing you can wield one turns him on lol
Margaery Tyrell: In the life you'd live with Margaery it would be best to keep your talent hidden. It was scandal enough to be courting someone that wasn't a man, but if said person also brandished a sword it would be the hottest gossip of the city. So you save your skills for real emergencies and the first time Margaery sees this she is beyond confused and a little scared. In private she'll thank you for saving her and ask how you learned such a thing.
Sandor Clegane: This guy is the least phased. Like, he's definitely caught off guard by how skilled you are but not much surprises him anymore. He gives you tips every now and then but really believes in your capability. I like to think one of his favorite moments are after you both have had a good fight and you take turns taking care of each other. Wiping the wounds clean, covering them, and then taking a hot bath together ( or separate cause mans is BIG).
Sansa Stark: It kinda depends on which era of Sansa we're talking about. Like if it's younger Sansa than she's probably a little frightened of you but would be dying to hear the stories of how you came to be so good. If it was older Sansa then she's highly impressed and requests for you to be apart of her personal guard. She likely will ask for you to teach her a few things so she can defend herself as well.
Khal Drogo: Man is impressed. He values strength so seeing you with a weapon at all riles him up, but seeing you defend yourself from another Dothraki who spoke against you? He's immediately dragging your ass to bed, or he might just take you in front of everyone.
Brienne of Tarth: <3 Big heart eyes<3 Finally! Someone who can keep up with her. This woman spent her whole life being told that anyone who wasn't a man couldn't possibly wield a sword properly, and after proving that wrong herself it's refreshing to see you also beating the stereotypes. She loves to train with you and teach you things as well as learn from you. After your first real battle together she'll do her best not to hover but you can tell she's stressed out about whether you were hurt or not. Of course she knows you can take care of yourself but she loves you and can't help but worry.
Missandei: As an educated woman and former slave, Missandei never had time ( or the desire) to learn the ways of a sword. When she met you, you were training with Jorah and Grey Worm and she was impressed with how you could keep up with them. From then on, She's always enjoyed watching you train, your strength filling her with pride. She feels content knowing that you can defend yourself and her at any moment.
Podrick: Honestly, he's relieved. I mean, don't get me wrong he'll defend you without a second thought ( it's very hot) but knowing that you can handle yourself in a fight takes the pressure off of him a little. He worries for you, the world you both live in will eat and spit people out and the thought of something happening to you haunts him. He may try to give you tips ( even if you're better than him lol), so just let him help the few ways he can.
Jorah Mormont: You'd both probably meet while working for Daenerys so there's almost an expectation that you'd be good at defending yourself/her. In your first fight together you save him from a sword that nearly took his head off and after that day he begins to see you as more than just another guard.
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a story about (y/n) who is khal drogo's translator and khal drogo slowly falls in love with her and asks her to be his khaleesi in front of all his people one night by the fire
The Khaleesi's Heart
(Y/N) had always been captivated by the vastness of the Dothraki Sea, with its endless golden plains stretching as far as the eye could see. She had joined the Khalasar as a translator, seeking adventure and a chance to immerse herself in the rich culture of the fierce horse lords. Little did she know that her journey would lead to an unexpected and life-changing encounter.
Khal Drogo, a man of immense stature and a reputation that preceded him, had never taken much interest in the affairs of outsiders. His heart was bound to the warrior code, and his focus was on conquest and the endless expansion of his Khalasar. As he led his people through the sea of grass, he rarely spared a second thought for anything or anyone beyond his warriors and his beloved bloodriders.
One fateful evening, as the setting sun bathed the horizon in hues of fiery red and orange, Khal Drogo's warriors captured a party of travelers on the fringes of his territory. Among them was (Y/N), who had been accompanying a merchant caravan on her journey to learn the Dothraki ways. She found herself standing before the imposing Khal, her heart pounding in her chest.
(Y/N) knew the importance of diplomacy and the art of communication. Fluent in both the Dothraki tongue and the common language of Westeros, she was able to bridge the gap between her people and the fierce Khalasar. Her eyes met Drogo's, and she bowed respectfully, uttering the words of introduction in flawless Dothraki.
"Anhaan vekhat hoshori, majin adak jin," she spoke, introducing herself as a translator.
Khal Drogo, unaccustomed to hearing his mother tongue from the lips of a foreigner, was taken aback. His dark eyes bore into hers as if trying to decipher her intentions. Her confidence, intelligence, and the fire in her eyes intrigued him in a way that no one ever had.
Over time, as (Y/N) continued to serve as translator, she and Khal Drogo shared more than just words. She found herself drawn to the strength and honor that defined his character. He, in turn, began to seek her presence during meetings and discussions, valuing her insights and wisdom.
As the weeks turned into months, a connection grew between them, though they rarely spoke of it aloud. (Y/N) saw beyond the fearsome exterior of Khal Drogo, recognizing the depth of his heart and the unspoken longing in his gaze. Khal Drogo, a man of few words, found himself yearning for (Y/N)'s companionship, her laughter, and the way her eyes sparkled when she shared tales of her homeland.
The Khalasar continued its relentless journey across the Dothraki Sea, conquering rival clans and collecting tribute. In the midst of the dust and chaos of battle, Khal Drogo and (Y/N) found solace in each other's presence. They shared stolen moments by the campfire, where he would listen to her recount stories of the world beyond the grasslands, and she would learn of the proud history of the Dothraki.
One night, as they sat by the fire, the sky above them was ablaze with a tapestry of stars. Khal Drogo turned to (Y/N), his eyes filled with an intensity she had come to know all too well.
"Anhaan vekhat anni, (Y/N)," he said, his voice low and filled with sincerity. "You have brought light to my Khalasar and to my heart. You are strong, wise, and beautiful. Will you be my Khaleesi?"
(Y/N)'s heart skipped a beat. She had never anticipated such a proposition. To be the Khaleesi of the Great Khal Drogo meant leaving behind her old life, her dreams of adventure, and embracing a destiny she had never imagined. Yet, as she looked into the eyes of the man who had come to mean so much to her, she knew that her heart had already made its choice.
"Yes, Khal Drogo," she replied, her voice unwavering. "I will be your Khaleesi."
Word of Khal Drogo's declaration spread throughout the Khalasar like wildfire. The warriors and the women ululated in celebration, recognizing that their Khal had chosen a powerful and deserving Khaleesi. The union of two strong souls promised a future of prosperity and unity.
As the flames of the fire danced around them that night, Khal Drogo and (Y/N) sealed their commitment with a sacred Dothraki ritual. Their love would be tested in the trials of the unforgiving Dothraki culture, but they were determined to stand together, a force to be reckoned with.
And so, under the vast, starlit expanse of the Dothraki Sea, a new chapter in their lives began. Khal Drogo, once a warrior without equal, had found something even more precious than conquest – love. And (Y/N), the outsider who had ventured into this world seeking adventure, had found a love that would change her destiny forever.
As the months turned into years, Khal Drogo and his Khaleesi led the Great Khalasar to new heights, forging alliances and achieving greatness that had not been seen in generations. Their love story, whispered through the winds of the Dothraki Sea, became a legend, a testament to the power of love to transcend boundaries and unite even the fiercest of hearts.
In the heart of the Dothraki Sea, beneath the endless sky, Khal Drogo and (Y/N) embarked on a journey of love and destiny, a journey that would shape the future of the Dothraki and etch their names into the annals of history as a love that conquered all.
NOTE! This story was generated by OpenAI
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symbolically, dany (probably) not being able to have kids is very powerful. throughout the first book, her worth as a queen, threat as a conqueror and value as a body is determined by her ability to breed: the prospect of a son overshadows all her achievements and her body is used and abused as the vehicle of her brother's, her husband's and various other men's conquests. that is why it is so radical when instead of her barrenness being depicted as defective, she births the dragons all by herself, all of herself, without any real male intervention. SHE is the true dragon, it's in HER blood, HER power and she flips the terms of reproduction so that she is the one inscribing meaning into lifeless matter, animating clay. any marriage she now enters will be far more on her bodily terms. in fact, there doesn't have to be a husband or a son or even a legacy - she defines daenerys and she defines targaryen.
of course, personally this is still heartbreakingly sad for someone like dany who desperately wants a home and family. even as it potentially grants her more autonomy and forges a very important maternal bond with her dragons, daenerys is still left feeling isolated from and through her body.
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The Royal Families of The Seven Kingdoms: Part 6
By Jota Saraiva
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My Sun and Stars
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Imagine being a merchant's son who seduces a passing Dothraki, not realising until your father catches you in bed together that it's Khal Drogo.
The fact that it was the biggest tent out of the bunch should have tipped you off to the fact that this was no ordinary Dothraki soldier - but with those muscles in your line of vision, you were completely blind to all else.
The experience had been magical, to say the least. He filled you. He fulfilled you. He was rougher than any lover that you had before but that had been part of the charm. To put it lightly, you had been manhandled in the very best way. Those that were outside celebrating the night and the goods that they had traded with your father for, must have heard at least some of the noises. You held nothing back.
Khal Drogo was a dream. It was beautiful, and dazed and you saw stars all around you, but like all dreams, you had to wake up evenually. And it was unfortunately by your father, who was imploring the guards outside of the tent to see if you were in there, for you had been missing for a couple of hours now and he had checked everywhere else.
The Dothraki spoke back in their own harsh language, which was nothing at all like the ones that your father and yourself could speak, but their tone didn’t sound too happy at being asked to do something. An even greater shout when the curtain flew open and your father had taken the liberty of sticking his head and was exposed to the sight of his son and the Khal, naked without furs to cover you.
Your lover grew angry, and started yelling as well. You tried to calm him down with soothing touches. “Father,” You said, a word that was unknown to him. You tried to mime out that you knew this man, this older man. The looks that he gave you made you suspect that he thought your father was your lover. But you couldn’t think of any hand gestures that might mean dad.
“Get your clothes on and get out here this instant!” Your father said, letting the curtain fall back into place. The guards were laughing outside now, probably at the shame on your fathers face. The shame that you did not share, because you were not ashamed in the slightest. Just because he decided to dry up like a prune didn’t mean that you had to.
Though you did sheepily get out from the bed and gather your clothes. You were embarassed at being caught like that. Embarassed for your father. Khal Drogo did nothing but mutter some more hoarse words as you scrambled your way out, pulling your trousers up and chased after your father, who hit you upside the head once you reached his wagon.
“You idiot,” He grumbled at you. “You know that I don’t mind your lifestyle, but you were foolish to be with the Khal. One wrong move and he would have cut your head off right there, in that tent!”
“That was the Khal?” You asked, looking over your shoulder, watching as the burly naked man stepped out from his tent. The bright blue markings on his shoulder sparkled in the firelight. “Now that’s a story.”
Requested by: Anonymous
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It’s interesting that mirri maz duur (whether on purpose or inadvertently) kills rhaego to prevent future suffering he and his khalasar might commit, but ultimately causes the birth of a much more destructive entity. She tells dany that, “The stallion who mounts the world will burn no cities now. His khalasar will trample no nations into dust,” after the stillbirth, believing that rhaego would become a Genghis Khan esque figure in essos. However, it is rhaego’s sacrifice that quickens dany’s eggs, allowing drogon, viserion, and rhaegal to be born. In the end, mirri gives dany far more power than she ever would have had under drogo and rhaego, and far more destructive capabilities.
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Drogo and Daenerys
A portrait of the pair of them on their wedding day.
(Before you ask, I need some recovery days after February so these extra/unposted GoT redesigns are happening next!)
I am the artist! Do not post without permission & credit! Thank you! Come visit me over on: instagram, tiktok or check out my coloring book available now \ („• ֊ •„) /
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Can I make a request for what Daenerys and Drogo’s child would have looked like if they were a female? Love your art by the way!!!
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Can you talk about Dany's and khal drogo's relationship? Apparently, her falling in "love" with khal drogo (who is a barbaric rapist and slaver) is a sign that she will go mad.
Dany and Khal Drogo's relationship is a very complicated matter, but her falling in love with Drogo does not make her 'mad'.
Dany, when first wed to Drogo, was his bridal slave. She recognizes this herself within her chapters. She is 13, being sold by her own brother to a man much older than she is and more frightening, and she is obviously afraid of the marriage and Drogo as she is now considered his property and he is allowed to do whatever he wishes to her. She is powerless against him.
"The old woman washed her long, silver-pale hair and gently combed out the snags, all in silence. The girl scrubbed her back and her feet and told her how lucky she was. "Drogo is so rich that even his slaves wear golden collars. A hundred thousand men ride in his khalasar, and his palace in Vaes Dothrak has two hundred rooms and doors of solid silver." There was more like that, so much more, what a handsome man the khal was, so tall and fierce, fearless in battle, the best rider ever to mount a horse, a demon archer. Daenerys said nothing. She had always assumed that she would wed Viserys when she came of age. For centuries the Targaryens had married brother to sister, since Aegon the Conqueror had taken his sisters to bride. The line must be kept pure, Viserys had told her a thousand times; theirs was the kingsblood, the golden blood of old Valyria, the blood of the dragon. Dragons did not mate with the beasts of the field, and Targaryens did not mingle their blood with that of lesser men. Yet now Viserys schemed to sell her to a stranger, a barbarian... When she was clean, the slaves helped her from the water and toweled her dry. The girl brushed her hair until it shone like molten silver, while the old woman anointed her with the spiceflower perfume of the Dothraki plains, a dab on each wrist, behind her ears, on the tips of her breasts, and one last one, cool on her lips, down there between her legs. They dressed her in the wisps that Magister Illyrio had sent up, and then the gown, a deep plum silk to bring out the violet in her eyes. The girl slid the gilded sandals onto her feet, while the old woman fixed the tiara in her hair, and slid golden bracelets crusted with amethysts around her wrists. Last of all came the collar, a heavy golden torc emblazoned with ancient Valyrian glyphs." -A Game of Thrones - Daenerys I
"Dany looked at Khal Drogo. His face was hard and cruel, his eyes as cold and dark as onyx. Her brother hurt her sometimes, when she woke the dragon, but he did not frighten her the way this man frightened her. "I don't want to be his queen," she heard herself say in a small, thin voice. "Please, please, Viserys, I don't want to, I want to go home." -A Game of Thrones - Daenerys I
Now there is the difference between the show and the books for their wedding night. In the books, Dany had said yes to Drogo when he first coerces her into sex with him. However, in the show, she obviously did not consent and was crying as he pushed her down. I feel the show had a better handle of that scene; as it was clearly very much r*pe, even if Dany did say yes within the books- she was still a child of 13 and Drogo was much older than her and had more power over her as well.
After that, Drogo continues to r*pe Dany in the books until she wishes to end her own life, and only her dragon dreams provide her the strength to keep going. Still, Dany is powerless against Drogo, and only lessens her pain when she learns how to "please" him through Doreah. She is still considered his property.
Dany only begins to really "fall" for Drogo when she becomes pregnant with his child. This is only after Drogo begins to treat her gently and value her more. Still, she remains powerless to him. After Viserys had died and she considers herself the last living heir for her family, Drogo refuses to fight to get her the Iron Throne or even sail to Westeros. He only agrees to do this after the wine merchant tries to poison Dany and Rhaego, and this is only because Drogo saw this as someone trying to harm what he considers his property/wife and son.
When Drogo raids the Lhazareen, Dany is appalled by the violence. She tries to harden her heart to it, but in the end she can't turn away from it, and saves as many women she can by taking them as 'hers'. This was a daring move that even Dany acknowledges. When she speaks to Drogo, she wonders if she stepped too far out of line with him for her actions.
"It pleases me to hold them safe," Dany said, wondering if she had dared too much. "If your warriors would mount these women, let them take them gently and keep them for wives. Give them places in the khalasar and let them bear you sons." -A Game of Thrones - Daenerys VII
When Drogo dies and Mirri Maz Duur's blood magic and ritual take place, Dany is still powerless. She can only give commands to Drogo's men by threatening that Drogo would hear of them defying her. Even still, Drogo's men did not respect her, threatened her, and nearly killed her. Drogo was the one who gave Daenerys a position of power within the Khalasar, but even still it was very little and she still was powerless if Drogo did not agree with what she wanted; everything was up to Drogo and his decisions. Dany relied on him for protection and safety as he was the only man who could provide her such things when she was wed to him. And as it was shown, once Drogo began his downward spiral leading to his death, that safety and protection was immediately gone. Dany feared for him dying because he was the only one she knew that "loved" her and protected her.
Dany's "love" for Drogo was her adapting to her situation and doing all she could to keep herself alive and safe. It was a matter of Stockholm Syndrome. It was either Drogo or death for her. She was his bridal slave, his property, and he was the only powerful figure during that time that could provide for her and keep her safe. In her mind, it was love, but it was twisted and only came about because of her circumstances. Dany herself acknowledges the fact that she was Drogo's slave within the show when she liberates the people of Yunkai.
Dany's "love" for Drogo does not mean at all she will go mad. She was 13 in the books and 16/17 in the show when she was wed to him. She was a frightened child forced into a marriage to a man many viewed as a "barbarian" and "savage". It was either conform to her situation and endear to Drogo, or die. She would not have made it as far as she did if she hadn't adapted. To her, it might've been love, but Drogo was the man she was forcefully wed to and stuck with for the rest of her life as far as she knew. For her it was either make the best of it and continue on or lose her life. It was all about her survival from there on out, and Drogo was the only man she saw as being her protector for that.
Many Dany antis love to pick apart her situation with Drogo and turn it into a false narrative for their hate. The situation with Drogo and Mirri Maz Duur is always used to vilify her and make an excuse for her apparently being "mad" or terrible. They ignore the situation Dany was in and the logistics of it. She had no power, she was a child, and she was Drogo's property. Yet they love to say she did have power, when her only power came from Drogo and even then she was afraid of stepping too far with him. This was a matter of life or death for Dany. It's not 'madness' that she, a child, was conforming to her circumstances as best she could to keep herself alive.
Thanks for the ask! :)
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