#and the arguments made for it to be dany instead are kind of wild

[ilynpilled]

I think what bugs me the most about the type of analysis that is common in this fandom is that sometimes people are obsessed with not actually looking at choices being made by characters and instead try to project extra-textual symbolism/parallels they pulled out of thin air or use essentialist arguments to predict a certain character’s trajectory. There is already a weird tendency to blame bloodlines instead of institutions, oppressive/destructive social constructs/systems, and abusive cycles. This series repeatedly deconstructs bio essentialist ideas in a multitude of ways. Characters being viewed as monsters for the way they are born is a concept that is repeatedly torn down. There is a combination of nature & nurture at play with these characters, I admit, but it is nuanced. Your environment and your nature are in constant conversation with each other. Certain environmental factors will worsen certain attributes, while repress others etc. Your blood is not evil, nor is it pure, it just is, and your nature will be affected by your rearing, tragedies you face, and the environment you live in. Monsters are created and developed, not born. This whole concept is apparent with all the siblings in the series. Dany & Viserys are drastically different people, and make different choices despite having similar experiences and the same blood. Same can be said for Joff, Myrcella, and Tommen. Another very good example are the Lannister siblings. The twins’ idea of “one soul in two bodies” is deconstructed, and they are faced with how dissimilar they actually are. All three siblings have differences in nature, as revealed by their behavior as young children & their current values and motivations, and they are all shaped very differently by their environment. Cersei is affected by the oppressive system of the patriarchy, Jaime by the trauma due to the violent construct of knighthood, and Tyrion by the rampant ableism of the world around him. Tywin also shapes them by giving each of them their own flavor of parental abuse based on the role he wants them to play in his legacy. It is so apparent just how these characters became what they are, and how they navigate their world as a result of a nuanced combination of nature and nurturer. But in the end, it comes down to choices that they keep making. Characters on the right path can also falter sometimes, weigh their values wrong, and make bad decisions at certain points. Not to mention how thoughts and words do not speak as much as actions and actual choices that are made do. You all take bio essentialist arguments that some characters in the text make at face value, even when it is obviously bullshit. Any analysis that hinges entirely on “this character is the son/daughter of this character”, or “this thing on the surface parallels this other thing from something I read/watched”, “this character is a dragon. Dragons plant no trees”, “this character is a monster”, “this character is from this house”, “this character is related to this character” etc instead of actually looking at what said characters do or try to do is gonna lead to unconvincing arguments that are antithetical to one of the main ideas that this series is built on. To me it feels like these books are communicating that in spite of your birth, your origin, your trauma, your prophecies, etc it is primarily your choices that lead you to where you are and the legacy that you create. Cersei’s prophecy will come true as a result of the choices she makes. Dany’s many prophecies are also as a result of choices she makes, she was not just gifted with everything that she has achieved, she is an active agent who makes choices that push her a certain direction. This is also why it is weird when everybody wants to make characters have a predetermined trajectory solely based on “what” they are, or who they are related to.

Not only does George say this in interviews, it is an explicit thesis statement in the text itself:

This is the concluding statement of Jaime’s ASoS arc. Like “The things I do for love”, “So many vows...”, and “The heroes […] the best and the worst, and those who were a bit of both”, as extremely relevant it is to him in specific, it is a major thesis statement for the series as whole, and overlaps with many characters, just like how other characters also have a bunch of these overlapping arc theses. So can we please primarily look at the choices characters make and what ultimately motivated them to make these choices rather than thinking their ending and what they “are” as characters is set in stone because of the reasons mentioned. I feel like how you all engage with some of these characters contradicts the deconstruction of this kind of essentialism that is so apparent in these books.

[novelconcepts]

fic: (above) a boring little pub

“See where that takes us,” Dani mutters. “Sure. Yeah. Smooth.”

She’d said it like it wasn’t nerve-racking in the least, like she does this sort of thing every day. Get up at the asscrack of dawn, trying to remember how to make a pot of coffee she personally feels out of her mind even considering putting in her own mug. Coffee makes her crazy, spikes her already-wild anxiety straight through the roof; she hasn’t tried to brew the stuff since she was fifteen and making a last-ditch effort to get on Mom’s good side.

And, still, it was the best idea she had for Operation Fix Things With Jamie. Four days laying awake thinking, four days with her brain half on the kids, half on making Jamie smile the next time she turned up at Bly, and this was the best she could do. A cup of coffee that, to her untrained eye, looked like muddy water more than anything else. 

And she had handed it to Jamie. Just pasted on a smile and thought, Maybe the stars have aligned, and I woke up good at this today. Whether good at the coffee or the talking to Jamie, she wasn’t quite sure--but soon enough, it appeared the answer was “neither”. Terrific. Jamie, still stung from the other night. Jamie, clearly still not ready to leap off a cliff just because Dani reached out a hand. 

Who could blame her? Jamie’s maybe the most patient person Dani has ever met, so long as you’re not shredding her gardens behind her back, but she is still a person. A person who has shown Dani an extremely unexpected willingness to listen, but not so much the desire to be jerked around. Dani gets it. There’s nothing she wants less in the world, than to make Jamie feel like a chew toy to be picked up and discarded again on a whim. 

Hence, the world’s most insulting attempt at coffee.

And the invitation.

Dani does not have what a thinking man might call “a strong history” with dating. Part and parcel of being with the same person since you were ten, she supposes, and even if Edmund wasn't...right, he was still simple in his own way. The bravest she ever had to be with Eddie was in daring him to kiss her, a desperate, futile bid toward understanding all the girls at school who sighed and groaned over boys. Dani didn’t get it then, didn’t get it when Eddie closed his eyes and puckered his lips and gave her the most exaggerated dry kiss a human mouth can produce. Didn't get it, either, as he improved over the years, though she was tactically aware of him doing so. On a strictly data-driven level, she watched him get better at kissing, at smiling without nerves, at leading her by the hand wherever he felt they should go. And never, not once, did she feel it.

But one night in a greenhouse, wine in her blood and guilt on her lips, and she gets it now. She gets all of it. Jamie’s hands in her hair, Jamie’s mouth opening beneath her own--a symphony only they could hear. 

And then she’d gone and ruined it. 

So, now she’s here. Standing awkwardly in a small room in a huge manor, poking through the approximately ten outfits she’s been carting across Europe for half a year. She’d been brave with Jamie in ways she’d never considered with Eddie--brave to take her hand, brave to follow her into the dark, brave to kiss her, brave to ask her out on a...on a..

“Date,” she mutters, holding up a pink blouse and remembering Jamie saying wryly, There we are. She shuts her eyes. “Just a date. Normal person thing to do. Nothing to worry about.”

Jamie’s meant to be back here in--she flips her wrist, winces--less than an hour now. Jamie’s meant to be here to pick her up, like they’re teenagers heading off for a Friday night on the town, and Dani must genuinely be losing her mind. She didn't come here for this. She works with Jamie, works here watching the kids, and if she leaves...if she leaves, who knows what will...

A light rap at the door, so soft, she almost misses it. Hannah, gently smiling. 

“Everything all right up here? Haven’t seen you in quite some time...”

“The kids,” Dani interjects. “Of course. I’m so sorry, I’ll just--”

Hannah raises her palms in a placating gestures, slipping into the room with a nearly unearthly grace. Why, Dani wonders helplessly, can’t I be like Hannah? So elegant and serene and sure of every step? 

“I did not,” Hannah says, taking her by the shoulders and giving her a sisterly little shake, “come up here to scold you. The children are perfectly fine; Owen is running them through the finer elements of...” Her brow creases, some mix of affection and distaste. “Baking chemistry.”

“Oh.” Dani sinks onto the bed, head in her hands. “Of course. So you’re...”

“Here to make certain you aren’t, perhaps, talking yourself out of a nice evening out on the town?” Hannah supplies. She’s too kind to make fun, at least where this level of anxiety is concerned, and Dani is grateful. 

“Not talking myself out, exactly,” she says. “Just trying to decide what to wear. I mean, what does a person wear to a pub in Bly with...with...”

“A perfectly charming young woman whose primary uniform involves denim and potting soil?” Hannah’s voice is just a little too innocent. Dani grins. 

“I just don’t want to embarrass myself.”

“I don’t think,” Hannah says carefully, “there’s much chance of embarrassing yourself so badly, she leaves you alone in that pub. Or fails to return to Bly, perhaps, tomorrow?”

Color floods Dani’s cheeks. Her choice of sweater is suddenly the most interesting thing that has ever happened in this room. 

“The children will be just fine with us here,” Hannah continues, blessedly ignoring the way Dani’s shoulders go rigid with mortification. “Owen’s already planning to stay, and you know how Flora goes on about sleepovers...”

She’s smiling, but Dani thinks there’s a bit of distance behind her eyes that wasn’t there last week. A beautiful, kind woman, Hannah; it’s strange to see her even the least bit detached from the goings-on of the house. 

“You’re sure,” she presses. “I could still tell Jamie--”

“You could both use the night off, I think.” Hannah pats her shoulder lightly. Dani bites her lip. 

“Well, I can definitely make sure I’m back before--”

“Lunch tomorrow?” Hannah interjects. “Yes, I quite agree, that would be perfect timing. Rumor has it Owen’s planning a feast fit for kings and very small children.”

Dani is out of arguments, and she suspects Hannah knows it. Her shoulders slump. “Okay. Okay, good. Glad that’s all...handled. Now...”

“This one, I think.” Hannah pats the light purple, her hand possessed of such surety, Dani is briefly envious. “Brings out your eyes nicely.”

She makes her escape with another smile and a very small wave, and Dani gives herself a minute. Just one minute, sitting on the edge of the bed with her face in her hands, to really process the situation. A date. An actual real date with an actual real person she actually likes. Not just likes, but feels...slightly insane around. Insane in the best way. Stomach in knots, fingertips sweaty for no good reason, ears going hot at the sight of her insane. 

Jamie kissed her back. Jamie kissed her like there was nothing she’d like more in the world. Jamie kissed her, and then let her go the minute she didn’t seem ready for it, and even with the worst coffee in England as a peace offering, accepted the idea of a drink with her. 

Which means...

“The sweater doesn’t matter,” Dani mumbles, feeling very much as though nothing has ever mattered more.

***

Jamie has never quite done this before, either; she thinks of telling Dani so, thinks of taking a quiet moment before leaving Bly Manor to get ready for a date and come back, sweet Lord, she must be out of her mind, to say, “Hey, no worries, Poppins, this is brand-new territory for the both of us.”

But Dani is busy with the kids, and also sort of looks like she’s going to combust should Jamie stand too near her, so she skulks out to the truck alone instead. The date--it is an actual fucking date, I cannot believe she did this to us, what am I going to do on an actual fucking date with this woman?--is slated for seven in the evening. Jamie’s done working at four-thirty.

She spends about an hour of that in-between time showering, picking out a clean t-shirt--nothing too snappy, don’t want to scare Poppins off again--and jeans and a jacket that ensures she’ll look presentably-cool, and mussing her hair somewhat badly. The rest, she spends pacing. 

You know I live above that pub, right? Told you that already. And Jesus, how Dani had smiled, like she’d been thinking of nothing else for four fucking days. Four days Jamie had spent planning ways to distance herself, to stop feeling all of this flappy butterfly nonsense at the mere sight of the woman, and the first thing--first goddamn thing--Dani did upon her return was ask her on a date. 

To which she had...said yes. She’d said yes, and now off she goes to pick up her actual, real-live human woman date.

It’s one thing, she thinks as she strides up the drive to the door, to take a woman to bed. It’s a very natural, easy thing, in fact, to take a woman to bed. Strip off your clothes, strip off your inhibitions, get used to the notion of never seeing her again once the sun is up. But this? Dani? Jamie’s never been here before. Never wanted something so badly before. 

“Don’t,” she mumbles, pushing the door open, “fuck this up.”

She expects to have to go on a bit of a hunt to track Dani down--maybe to the kitchen, or even (heaven help her) up to her room, but no: Dani is right there. Dani is standing in the foyer in a black skirt and loose-knit sweater, looking for all the world like Jamie just caught her running a trench into the floorboards. 

“Hi,” she says, all deer eyes and suddenly grinning mouth. Her hair is up, so very blonde and perfect, Jamie’s mouth goes a little useless at the sight of it.

“Hey. Uh. Are we meant to be speaking with the chaperones, or...”

Dani shakes her head, looking just a little punch-drunk. “Hannah made it sound like we’d be in trouble if we went back there. Owen’s doing something with chemistry?”

“All the angels couldn’t help those kids and their empty bellies now,” Jamie says, “if Owen is fixated on another goddamn chemistry lesson.”

Dani laughs, and suddenly, it’s like a sheen of ice cracks open and all the warmth she’s come to associate with Dani Clayton comes rushing into the room. Jamie reaches out a hand, slides palm along palm until Dani is fitted neatly against her lifeline. 

“Shall we?”

She doesn’t say, I’ve never done this. Doesn’t tell Dani any of that. It doesn’t seem important, all of a sudden, not with the way Dani squeezes back and follows eagerly into the passenger seat of her truck.

Jamie, looking at her out of the corner of her eye as she prepares to back out, is struck with the wild idea that maybe they don’t have to leave at all to do this. She could just reach across the seat, lay a hand lightly over Dani’s knee, tell her she’s never met anyone like her. Never met anyone who makes her want to tell sad stories and bad jokes and goodnights that are only acceptable because there will be a good morning to follow. 

Date, she reminds herself firmly, though there’s a perfectly nice kitchen, a perfectly nice bedroom, a perfectly nice hidden spot out on the grounds that would do the job just as well. Maybe next time. There are flowers she’s certain Dani can’t go her whole life without seeing. 

But tonight: it’s a pub in the tiny village of Bly, where Jamie has lived for years without ever really caring to get to know its secrets. Now, watching Dani look around like she’s just stepped into Oz, she sort of regrets that. 

“Usually not too busy on a Thursday night,” she says, guiding Dani with a light hand at the small of her back past what she thinks of as the Attention Grabbing section--the tables up near the bar proper, where the denizens of Bly most like to congregate after work--and toward her own preferred spot. It’s in the back, near a near-secret exit that leads straight up to her flat, and Cal is charitable enough to keep most folks away from it unless the place is full-up. Not a bad guy, Cal; he’s about four hundred years old and insists on calling her Janey, but he’s still got the back for long nights serving bad drinks, and he keeps the rent cheaper than dirt. 

“You live here?” Dani sounds like she’s never been more delighted at a prospect. Jamie can’t help but laugh, slinging her jacket over the back of her chair and settling in. 

“Thought about asking for a job when I moved in, but luckily Lord and Lady Wingrave got to me first. Not sure it’d suit me, spending every night with the town layabouts.”

She winks at Cal as he shambles past to let him know this is a joke. He snorts. 

“Like I’d hire you anyway. Too damn short. Couldn't reach the good stuff.”

“Wasn’t aware you carried the good stuff,” she fires back. Dani, watching this exchange with delight, laughs. Cal raises an eyebrow. 

“Your friend’s pretty. Poor sense of character, to be spending her night with a felon, but there’s no accounting for taste.”

The smile on Dani’s lips dies instantly. Jamie swallows a curse. 

“Yes, thank you, Grandfather Drunkard, I hadn’t quite gotten to that part of the tale yet. Round to make up for it, if you please.”

He has the good grace to look slightly ashamed, patting her on the shoulder as he winds back to the bar in search of clean glasses. Jamie leans back with a sigh.

“Well, it was bound to come up eventually, I suppose. Frankly, probably for the best he spilled those beans before I could lose my nerve and put off telling you.”

Dani’s brow is creased, less like someone horrified by a glimpse into Jamie’s storied past, more like a white knight ready to draw a sword in her defense. Jamie finds herself reaching across the table, glancing over her shoulder, and touching the back of her hand with two cautious fingers. 

“Easy, Poppins, Cal’s a good sort. Our sort, even, if there is such a thing.” It’s a bold stroke, a shot in the dark, but given that Jamie’s already had this woman’s tongue in her mouth, she supposes it isn’t so dangerous to assume. Dani raises her eyebrows high enough to make her laugh.

“He’s--I mean he doesn’t--”

“He’s kind, and he knows the value of a closed mouth,” Jamie confirms. “Says things are better than they used to be around here, but there’s no point courting trouble. Anyway, he won’t say a damn thing when we--if we--”

Cal takes pity on her, delivering a pair of beers and a platter of cold chips, “on the house, as penance for fuckin’ up your evening.” Jamie raises her glass in a salute to his retreating back.

“Did he?” Dani asks. Jamie, glass halfway to her lips, pauses.

“Did he what?”

“Fuck up the evening.” Jamie’s not sure she’s ever heard Dani say the word fuck before, and suddenly feels as though it’s the best single syllable ever to cross her lips. 

“Nah. Not unless you’ve, ah, got a problem with felons sharing your table?”

Lifting her own glass, Dani shakes her head. “Not as a rule. I’d like to hear about it, though. If it’s something you’re all right sharing.”

And so Jamie shares. All of it. It isn’t the plan, exactly, but when she gets started, she finds it increasingly difficult to locate a logical place to stop. To explain the prison time, she first has to explain how a young woman finds herself in such a situation; to explain that, she first has to paint a picture of a particular kind of home life. Before she knows what’s happening, she’s leaning across the table and saying names she hasn’t spoken in years. Telling about the coal mine. The other men. The baby. The burn. 

Dani listens to it all, enraptured, never interrupting with so much as a question. She makes small noises, nods encouragement whenever Jamie falters, takes small sips of her drink when Jamie pauses for breath. 

She doesn’t ask what Jamie did. This, above all else, strikes Jamie between the eyes. She doesn’t ask if Jamie lied, or cheated, or stole, or bloodied anyone along the way (yes, yes to one and all, and if she did ask, Jamie would tell her; they're old scars, the life of someone she feels she barely knows now, and if she’s ashamed, it’s the shame of a distant dream). She only listens, nods, takes it in.

“I figure,” Jamie says when she’s run out of history to unfold between them, “you showed me yours, yeah? It’s only fair.”

Dani raises her glass. “To not being defined by the sins of the past.”

Jamie chuckles, obediently following suit. “To people being the most goddamn exhausting concept on the planet, and trying anyway.”

They drink. They drink, and Jamie thinks, Maybe that’s it. Maybe I’ve exhausted the conversation topics for one relationship already. Maybe she’ll finish this glass and we’ll head back to the house, and that’ll be that. 

“I’ve never done this before,” Dani tells her. There’s something relaxed about her, something Jamie finds new and deeply interesting. Relaxed is the last word she’d generally used to describe Dani Clayton. 

Jamie gestures for Cal, refills following suit in short order. “Been to a pub?”

“Been on a date with someone I...” Dani hesitates. For a split second, Jamie’s sure she’s about to look at someone Jamie can’t sense over her shoulder. Instead, she shakes her head, smiles ruefully. “Someone I felt things for.”

“Things, huh?” She leans across the table, props her chin on one hand, makes a show of tilting her head. “What sorts of things?”

“I think you know.” Dani is blushing. This is maybe the best night of Jamie’s whole life.

“Think you should tell me anyway.”

Dani swats at her, and they’re both laughing with an ease Jamie can’t wrap her head around. It’s one thing to flirt; Jamie’s good at flirting. Comes easy, comes naturally. She’s good at watching for the little buttons in people, the little signs of what makes them laugh, what makes them squirm. Promised herself a long time ago never to use this power for anything less than leaving a room warmer than she found it. 

But this isn’t flirting. Not the way Jamie’s done it before. This is something entirely new, entirely specific to Dani. It’s in the way Dani watches her, eyes too blue, jaw held taut like she’s trying to keep something dangerous from spilling out. It’s in the way Dani lets her fingers linger when she reaches for a chip, allows Jamie to brush against her in a fashion that looks utterly innocent from the outside and feels anything but. 

Jamie swallows hard, liking the weight of Dani’s gaze more than she’s prepared to admit. Liking the way Dani very slowly, very carefully, moves a hand under the table to press against her knee. 

“Bold, Poppins,” she breathes. Dani smiles, so clearly proud of herself and so clearly terrified that it’s all Jamie can do not to lean all the way across and kiss her. 

Best not. Cal’s a good man, their sort, but there are others in the pub now. People who wouldn't take kindly to a sight like that. And this night is going far too well for Jamie to waste where it’s going on a bar brawl.

***

Jamie’s flat is nothing like Dani expected. Admittedly, she isn’t sure what to expect when Jamie drains the last of her glass and gives a knowing glance to the exit. A very small part of her thinks this is all going entirely too well--her hand has been under the table, pressed with a confidence she hadn’t known she possessed to Jamie’s knee, for almost fifteen minutes. Even as her thumb traces small circles into the denim, even as Jamie’s eyes go a little darker, her lips parting in a way Dani finds entirely too interesting, she thinks, This isn’t me, is it? She can’t be feeling it, too. No one has ever understood this. 

Even so, here’s Jamie, standing a little too quickly. Her chair scrapes back, her jacket swung over her arm, and she’s reaching out. Dani accepts the hand, lets Jamie pull her to her feet. A good idea. A bad idea. The kind of idea that will get them out of the public eye in short order, either way, and Dani can’t think of anything wiser in this moment. 

There’s a set of stairs just outside the door, leading up to a second door. Thick brown wood, with double locks Jamie works without really looking. She’s staring at Dani even as her hands move, staring from inches away, and Dani suddenly thinks how good it is, that they came out tonight. How good it is to be away from the house, the kids, anyone else in the world. 

“After you,” Jamie says, pushing the door open with a flat hand and gesturing for Dani to enter. Her voice is a little raw, a little huskier than usual. Dani moves past her, arm brushing arm, and just about jumps out of her skin at the contact. 

The space is small, sparsely furnished, with a curtain hung to break up the room. In one far corner, a tiny bathroom. In the closest corner, a tiny kitchen, barely broken from the living space by a change in flooring. 

Jamie, wearing an expression Dani has not yet learned to decipher, says, “This would be it. The castle, as it were.”

Does she sound embarrassed? Dani can't quite tell. She wants to say there’s nothing to be embarrassed about, this place is small and quiet and somehow perfectly Jamie in its easy nature. There are books, though not many, on a small shelf. There are plants, considerably more, lined up like soldiers guarding Jamie from loneliness. 

“It’s a place to lay my head, anyway,” Jamie says, and that is definitely a touch of embarrassment in her voice. Dani shakes her head, moves to join her at the front door, takes her hand. 

“It’s yours,” she says, unable to clarify quite why that is so special. “Thank you. For bringing me here.”

It sounds better in her head than it does ringing between them in a space so silent, Dani imagines she can hear the echo of her own voice. Jamie is just looking at her, the way she’d looked the night Owen’s mother passed, like if Dani were to give the word, she’d make a move that would light them both aflame. 

She’d been too afraid that night. Was carrying far too much. Even the simple act of touching Jamie at all, of running her thumb across Jamie’s hand, had felt like heroism. 

Now, things are different. 

She’s got Jamie by the sleeves, hands gripping Jamie’s t-shirt just above the skin of her biceps, and this is what going over feels like. This is what it feels like, Dani thinks, to just let go. 

***

Kissing Dani is different here. Back in the greenhouse, Dani had been largely somebody else, Jamie thinks; still Dani, but a version carrying too much on her back. A desperate, hopeful, sorrow-laden Dani who had grabbed at her jacket like it was a life preserver. 

This Dani, sighing and squeezing her arms, feels like freedom. 

Jamie finds herself spinning them both, pressing Dani against the locked door, liking the convulsive way Dani’s hands fist around her shirt sleeves. Liking the way Dani slides one arm around her neck and leans back just a little, just enough to gaze into Jamie’s eyes, and this is almost too much all on its own. No one has ever looked at Jamie while she was trying to kiss them. No one, not even once, has looked at her with such profound affection.

And want. So much want, Dani’s eyes are stormy with it. Jamie’s grinning, but there’s a fist around her heart squeezing so hard, she worries it might burst. 

“All right?” she breathes. Dani could say no. Dani could say no at any time, and Jamie would understand it. Would lean back, comb her fingers through her own hair, offer the bed while she sets up on the couch until the alcohol’s out of both of their systems and the sunrise gives them another chance at it. 

Dani, rather than answering, makes a low sound at the back of her throat and finds Jamie’s mouth with an eager, open kiss that sends Jamie’s pulse through the roof. 

She hasn’t done this before, she’s told Jamie, but she’s coming to it naturally enough. Her lips are soft, parting for Jamie’s tongue, her hips pushing against Jamie’s body in slow, easy motions. When Jamie rakes her nails down her scalp, fingers pulling the scrunchie from her hair, she responds with such a low groan, Jamie has to bury her face in Dani’s neck for a moment to breathe. 

“Sorry,” Dani mumbles. Jamie, shaking her head, laughs against her skin. 

“In no universe, Poppins, are you to be sorry right now. About anything.”

She raises her head, looking for signs that Dani is sorry in a more important way, a way that will say stop, back up, let this go for now. Dani takes her face between trembling hands. Kisses her slowly, sweetly, tongue tracing Jamie’s lower lip like the only thing in the world is to memorize her in tiny, hopeful doses. 

Jamie sighs, one hand buried in blonde hair, the other finding purchase on the sleeve of a too soft, too tearable sweater. She feels too large for her body all of a sudden, too much adrenaline coursing through her system, and every time Dani turns her head just a little, every time she brushes her nose against Jamie’s and makes that tiny, soul-searing little sound under Jamie’s kiss, she thinks she gets a bit closer to plunging off the edge into something she won’t be able to forget about in the morning. 

“You sure?” she asks against Dani’s lips, the words lost when Dani moves an arm around her neck and digs her fingers in hard. She can feel Dani nodding, breathless, and it’s enough. More than enough. Jamie finds she’s walking them backwards, navigating carefully around her small table, her small couch, the shelf upon which she keeps a few precious plants. 

With every step, Dani is kissing her. 

With every step, Dani is tracing shapes into the back of her neck.

With every step, Dani is pushing in close, like if Jamie breaks for even a second, some beautiful, perfect spell will break with her. 

They’re past the curtain now, in the little space where Jamie sleeps and wakes and hasn’t taken anyone since moving in. Dani, forehead pressed against hers, lips swollen, opens her eyes. 

“This is--”

“Not much,” Jamie says. On the one hand, she’s glad they came out tonight, glad she’s getting to hear all the little sounds Dani makes as she’s kissed without worrying about eavesdroppers. On the other, there’s nothing inspiring about her flat, nothing to say Jamie can take care of someone. It’s just walls. Just walls and a couple of plants, and for some reason, Dani is looking around like they’ve walked through a mirror into a land of magic. 

“Anyway,” Jamie says. “We don’t have to--if you don’t want to--”

***

“Don’t you?” Dani’s heart is in her throat, pounding in her wrists almost painfully hard. Jamie, one arm around her waist, leaning back with flushed cheeks and her bottom lip between her teeth, raises her eyebrows. 

“Want to? God, yes.”

Relief, flooding Dani’s body almost hard enough to knock her over. She grips at Jamie with both hands, the slide of dark t-shirt soft under her fingers, and kisses her again. She feels so good kissing Jamie, so good she forgets how nervous she is about the whole thing. Jamie, her hand strong at the small of her back, her fingers brushing just under the hem of her sweater, leans back again. 

“Just don’t want to pressure you into anything. S’all right if you’re not up for--”

"I’ll tell you,” Dani promises. If Jamie keeps doing that with her hand, if Jamie keeps tracing the base of her spine with small, reckless movements, she thinks she’ll go crazy. “If it’s too much. I’ll tell you.”

She pushes gently against Jamie’s chest, feeling bold and brave and absolutely petrified of her own actions, and Jamie lets herself fold backwards until she’s seated on the edge of a thin, clean bedspread. Dani follows her down, knees on either side of Jamie’s thighs, sitting carefully in her lap. 

“Now what?” Jamie teases, even as she’s sliding both hands up Dani’s sides, firm enough not to tickle as she brackets Dani’s ribs and lets the next ragged breath push against her palms. Dani closes her eyes for a beat, swaying, untethered until Jamie tilts her head and kisses her again. All at once, it’s like being caught at the end of a string. All at once, it’s like being handed serenity. 

She realizes she’s moving her hips, rolling them forward against Jamie’s lap, liking the way Jamie’s hands tighten on her body and begin gently pushing her back and forth. There isn’t enough friction to really accomplish anything this way, but it hardly matters; it’s still so much, so much she feels like she’ll come apart anyway. Something this new, a feeling this big, reaching across the expanse of her, consuming her--she thinks she’ll lose something here tonight. Gain something. Tie the two together and be something different come morning. 

She used to worry about that, with him. Used to worry that if she ever gave in, ever tried that one last thing to feel how she was meant to with him, she’d be different the next day. She’d be someone else. 

This is something else entirely--so much so, she almost can’t breathe around the realization. That she will be different tomorrow, and that she will not be less Dani because of it, but more, somehow. Something more Dani than she’s allowed herself to be in her whole life, because it was chosen here, tonight, with Jamie’s hands on her body and Jamie’s mouth under her own. 

***

With Dani in her lap, skirt riding up around her thighs, hips moving restlessly, Jamie thinks for a second they’ve hit a wall. A very good wall to hit, she thinks hurriedly. If this is as far as they go tonight, it’s still worlds past anything she really expected from Dani. 

So long as she doesn’t regret it, doesn’t run from me, I could stay here forever. 

Dani, who has been kissing her for what feels like forever, breaks contact and just looks at her. Her hand, soft and cautious and more certain than Jamie expects, presses against Jamie’s breastbone. Pushes again. Jamie shifts backwards, inching up the mattress, pulling Dani with her until she’s flat on her back with Dani looking down. 

“Up to you,” she says. She likes the simple pressure of Dani’s body atop her own, of soft curve fitting all the spaces where Jamie doesn’t usually think of herself as lacking anything at all. Now, though, knowing what it feels like, how the whole of Dani is pressed flush to her, she wonders if she’ll ever feel complete in this bed again. 

“You still--”

“Want?” Jamie’s lips curve. “If you’re asking, there’s something I’m not doing right.”

“I’m sorry,” Dani says, then seems to catch herself. She sighs, smiles, laughs a little in that dizzy, self-conscious way that breaks Jamie’s heart. “This is...as far as I know. This is...”

Jamie nods, understanding. “You trust me?”

***

Dani is nodding, too, liking the way her body is moving almost of its own accord against Jamie’s. She hadn’t even realized she was doing it, hadn’t even realized she was still rubbing lightly against Jamie even as nerves pound through her system. 

“Tell me,” Jamie says in a low, urgent tone. “If anything changes.”

She rolls, then, a quick flash of movement that makes Dani shriek-giggle. From this new vantage point, back pressed into Jamie’s mattress, head on Jamie’s pillow, she feels suddenly so much more intimate than while straddling Jamie’s lap. Doesn’t make sense, she thinks with a thrill of such powerful lust, all she can do is grab again at Jamie’s shirt and hold on. But this is hers, and I’m here, and she’s...she’s...

“Tell me,” Jamie says again, a quiet command that drags soft nails up Dani’s back. She shivers, nodding, and Jamie takes the lead at last. 

***

She hadn’t thought, somehow, about this part. Not in so many firmly phrased words. She’d thought about the shape of it, of Dani in her flat, of Dani in her bed, of Dani kissing her, touching her, but somehow, this part slid away every time it tried to rise in her mind. 

The part of the show where clothes go away. The part of the show Jamie has always liked the most, and the least, at the same time. 

Dani is kissing her when she slides both hands beneath the sweater, easing it up, giving Dani ample time to pull away. Dani, instead, sits up just enough to allow the sweater to rise over breasts, shoulders, head. Jamie drops it off the bed, leans back on her knees, smiles. 

“Is there...” Dani isn’t covering herself, exactly, but there’s a sort of nakedness to her expression that has nothing to do with clothes disappearing. “I mean, am I--”

She leaves it unspoken, a bit embarrassed: right? okay? enough? 

“Perfect,” Jamie tells her. “Absolutely gorgeous.” 

She takes the hem of her own shirt in her hand, waits, pleased when Dani sits up and covers that hand with her own searching fingers. She doesn’t want to go anywhere Dani isn’t willing to take her, and she certainly doesn’t want to deprive her of the small moments that make a first time with someone else so electric. When Dani guides the shirt up over her head, it’s like Jamie’s never done this, either--no woman has ever just looked at her, eyes steady and searching, in a moment like this. 

Women are usually the fast, nervous, lights-off-don’t-talk kind of souls in Jamie’s bed. Touch me, kiss me, don’t look, don’t ask questions, don’t act like you want to be here. But Dani is looking at her with lips parted, hands tracing the lines of Jamie’s neck, collarbones, the dip between her breasts. Her fingers are shaking so hard, Jamie covers them with her own, pulls them to her lips. 

“One thing at a time,” she says quietly. “Anything’s too much, we pull back.”

Dani pulls at her, guiding Jamie’s hands back to work the clasp of her bra, to cover her skin with soft, careful strokes. She arches into Jamie’s hand and whimpers, and Jamie thinks there was no way, no way she could have predicted any of this. Not as it is. Not as Dani is letting it be. 

***

She’d thought, back in the greenhouse, that Jamie’s kiss was enough to drown in. That Jamie’s lips traveling from her mouth to her throat to her ear was enough to drive her wild enough that she’d forget her own name. 

It’s nothing compared to Jamie kissing her now, holding her with gentle hands as she explores every inch of skin she can reach. She is all tongue, all soft bite, all lips on shoulder, on pulse, on everything Dani has never been able to imagine letting someone else even look upon. 

Here, Jamie’s jean-clad legs intertwined with her own bare ones, her skirt rucked high, Dani thinks maybe this is the best it could possibly be. To be in Jamie’s bed, with Jamie’s hand light on her breast and Jamie’s kiss burning hot as she travels lower, as she moves like they’ve got all the time in the world, is maybe the best the world could ever get. 

Every so often, Jamie raises her eyes, and Dani feels something hot and tight clutch in her stomach. Jamie, asking if this is all right. Jamie, sucking a mark into the skin of her belly. Jamie, one hand moving lower so slowly, Dani sort of thinks she’s going to scream. 

***

She’s trying to go slow, trying to take this as easily as she possibly can, but every inch of Jamie is on fire. Part of her is hyper-aware of the reality of the situation: that Dani is nervous, that Dani is special, that Dani is someone Jamie couldn't bear hurting even on accident. And, more: that Jamie’s scar is out on display, that Jamie’s home is out on display, that Jamie is more visible and vulnerable with shirt off and jeans on and mouth pressed to the smooth arc of Dani’s stomach than she’s been in years. 

When Dani takes her by the wrist, she’s sure they’ve gone far enough--that the heat between her own legs will have to wait, that Dani is going to roll off the bed and scramble back into her sweater and away from--

Her hand, wrapped around Jamie’s, slides beneath her skirt. 

Her fingers, wrapped around Jamie’s, guide her to press against damp underwear. 

Her back arches. Jamie groans. 

“Okay,” she breathes, looking up at Dani’s too-blue eyes. “Okay, getting the picture.”

***

She didn’t know. Didn’t have the first idea what this would feel like. Didn’t have even the remotest frame of reference, and if she were anywhere else, if she were with anyone else, maybe she’d still be too keyed-up to find out.

But Jamie is sliding back up the bed, hand rubbing soft, testing circles between Dani’s legs, and yes--she thinks she’s starting to understand at last. 

She kisses Jamie hard, without care of how she looks or being even the least bit smooth, her own hand fumbling toward the zipper of Jamie’s jeans. No time like the present, she thinks with a truly unexpected delight, pleased when Jamie spreads her legs and shifts her hips to help her ease between cloth and skin. 

“Right for it,” Jamie pants in surprise, and Dani is too invested to feel embarrassed. Jamie is soft under her hand, wet, hips jerking to match her clumsy movements. She closes her eyes, concentrates on trying to mirror what Jamie’s doing with her own considerably more nimble fingers. Tries to match her in slow, gentle pressure--then a little faster, as Jamie sucks breath through her teeth--and faster yet, when Jamie presses up in a way she doesn’t fully expect. 

She doesn’t even realize she’s losing control until she’s already halfway gone, her hand tripping and fumbling as Jamie uses two fingers and a series of quick, rhythmic motions to set a pace Dani can’t help but follow with her hips. She realizes she’s rolling onto her back, arching, making noises she’s never heard from her own lips, and Jamie rolls to follow, kissing those noises into muffled joy.

Jamie rides out the spasms with her, keeping her hand exactly where it is, slowing to a gentle rest of fingertips against ruined underwear. Dani’s vaguely aware her own hand is still down Jamie’s pants, no longer moving. She exhales. 

“I--”

“S’all good,” Jamie says, her smile edged with something Dani thinks looks rather smug. “First time. Takes practice.”

***

It doesn’t surprise her, Dani falling asleep soon after. There were some mumbling sounds about reciprocation, about fairness, about wanting to feel Jamie twitch and groan under her fingers--but Jamie, jeans unzipped, feeling rather good about herself, only pulled her in close. Kissed her slowly. Let her fade into a gentle doze against Jamie’s shoulder. 

Good, Jamie thinks, though her skin is buzzing and there is an ache she hasn’t felt in a long time low in her belly. Rest, Poppins. There’s always tomorrow. 

If pressed, she couldn’t say why she feels such pride, such easy pleasure, watching the way Dani sinks into sleep in her arms. Maybe because Dani hasn’t looked like someone with the benefit of a good night’s sleep since Jamie met her. Maybe simply because Dani feels perfectly safe, perfectly notched against Jamie in this small bed. 

Either way, it feels right, Dani’s warm breath spilling across her bare skin. It feels right, even in this dumpy little flat above the only pub in Bly, though Dani is surely too good for a place like this. 

Maybe not for someone like me, though, Jamie thinks blearily, too pleased and too tired to pile upon that idea the weight of a lifetime not being good enough. Past doesn’t matter, not with Dani. It’s different, with Dani. 

She drifts. Tomorrow, they’ll wake to sunlight streaming through thin curtains, and maybe Dani will be a little embarrassed about everything they’ve done--maybe she’ll want to talk about it, or want to pretend it never happened, and Jamie will figure out how to handle the pain of that then.

She falls asleep thinking this is possible--but somehow knowing it isn’t likely. Isn't Dani. It’s too early to know a thing like that, but all the same, Jamie is pretty certain there will be no mortified scramble for clothes, no pushing her aside as Dani runs for the door, no awkward small talk on the ride back to the house. 

She does not anticipate, upon waking, Dani kissing her cheek. Kissing the corner of her lips. Kissing her neck and murmuring, “Morning...” with a question on the end of the word Jamie can’t help but laugh at before she’s even fully awake. 

“First thing, huh?”

Dani smiles at her, the smile of a woman who selected this very date venue not out of any polite curiosity about a small village pub, but because this particular bed existed above it. “Takes practice, you said.”

Jamie inhales sharply as a hand cups very lightly against the front of jeans that feel entirely irrelevant. “I did. Yeah. I definitely did.”

[rainhadaenerys]

Sometimes I like to search for my own posts in other sites, especially because my book vs show meta is shared quite a lot. I saw someone share my meta on r/gameofthrones, and without fail, some Sansa stan came to say that I was biased, that I didn’t talk about Dany’s “dark moments” in the books, that show!Dany was actually whitewashed:

Wow. Wow. I am the one that is biased, clearly *sarcasm*. Also notice how this anti doesn’t provide a single book quote to support their wild claims.

“The only reason Dany took Astapor was for an army”

Then why did she free the Unsullied when she didn’t need to? Then why did she delay her invasion of Westeros to stay in Slaver’s Bay freeing slaves? Then why did she refuse Yunkai’s gold, Xaro’s ships, Quentyn’s alliance, all things that would have been given freely to her if she decided to leave, and instead chose to stay to ensure people’s freedom? Also, see this meta:

https://rainhadaenerys.tumblr.com/post/182893726737/tatticstudio55-i-didnt-think-id-have-the#notes

“She was ok with Drogo selling the Lhazareen into slavery, she said it was the price of the Iron Throne”.

Dany was a 14 years old girl who had no experience on war. Antis like to say that Dany convinced Drogo to invade knowing that he was going to enslave people to do it, but this is not an argument supported by the text at all. When Dany asks Drogo to help her take the Seven Kingdoms, no one mentions the need to sell slaves:

The khal's mouth twisted in a frown beneath the droop of his long mustachio. "The stallion who mounts the world has no need of iron chairs."

Dany propped herself on an elbow to look up at him, so tall and magnificent. She loved his hair especially. It had never been cut; he had never known defeat. "It was prophesied that the stallion will ride to the ends of the earth," she said.

"The earth ends at the black salt sea," Drogo answered at once. He wet a cloth in a basin of warm water to wipe the sweat and oil from his skin. "No horse can cross the poison water."

"In the Free Cities, there are ships by the thousand," Dany told him, as she had told him before. "Wooden horses with a hundred legs, that fly across the sea on wings full of wind."

Khal Drogo did not want to hear it. "We will speak no more of wooden horses and iron chairs." He dropped the cloth and began to dress. "This day I will go to the grass and hunt, woman wife," he announced as he shrugged into a painted vest and buckled on a wide belt with heavy medallions of silver, gold, and bronze.

"Yes, my sun-and-stars," Dany said. Drogo would take his bloodriders and ride in search of hrakkar, the great white lion of the plains. If they returned triumphant, her lord husband's joy would be fierce, and he might be willing to hear her out. - Daenerys VI ADWD

That’s it. That’s the moment Dany asks Drogo to help her take the Seven Kingdoms. There’s no mentions of selling slaves at all in their conversation. We don’t even know if Dany is aware or not of what taking the Seven Kingdoms is going to take. Given how young and inexperienced she is, it doesn’t seem like she gave much thought about the ugly aspects of war at all. Besides, it’s only after the wineseller tries to poison Dany that Drogo mentions that he will rape women and enslave children in Westeros, and at this point, Dany doesn’t have much of a say, because Drogo didn’t decide to invade Westeros because Dany asked. He decided to invade Westeros because the lives of wis wife (his property) and his son were threatened. This is an affront to his honor, his decision has nothing to do with pleasing Dany, so if she asks him to give up on invading Westeros, he won’t do it (just like he wouldn’t invade Westeros just because he asked). Dany didn’t seem to be aware of what taking Westeros back with Drogo would take, and after she finds out, she doesn’t really have the power to stop it.

And saying that Dany was ok with enslaving the Lhazareen is a blatant lie:

I am the blood of the dragon, Daenerys Targaryen reminded herself as she turned her face away. She pressed her lips together and hardened her heart and rode on toward the gate.

"Most of Ogo's riders fled," Ser Jorah was saying. "Still, there may be as many as ten thousand captives."

Slaves, Dany thought. Khal Drogo would drive them downriver to one of the towns on Slaver's Bay. She wanted to cry, but she told herself that she must be strong. This is war, this is what it looks like, this is the price of the Iron Throne.

"I've told the khal he ought to make for Meereen," Ser Jorah said. "They'll pay a better price than he'd get from a slaving caravan. Illyrio writes that they had a plague last year, so the brothels are paying double for healthy young girls, and triple for boys under ten. If enough children survive the journey, the gold will buy us all the ships we need, and hire men to sail them."

Behind them, the girl being raped made a heartrending sound, a long sobbing wail that went on and on and on. Dany's hand clenched hard around the reins, and she turned the silver's head. "Make them stop," she commanded Ser Jorah. - Daenerys VII AGOT

Dany has little say in what’s happening here, little agency. She is just the wife of the khal, and what he decides is what happens. This is the very first time Dany is seeing the Dothraki attack anyone (before this, she was just traveling through the Dothraki Sea to Vaes Dothrak). And she is horrified by what she is seeing. Antis love to take the line “this is the price of the Iron Throne” out of context, but looking at the context in which the line is said tells us a very different story: when Dany says "this is war, this is the price of the Iron Throne", she's not saying it because she's ok with slavery. Quite the opposite: she hates what she's seeing, and she says this to convince herself that she doesn't care, to tell herself to be strong. But it doesn't work, Dany can't look past the awful things that she is seeing, and only two paragraphs later, she starts trying to save as many women as she can, in the only way she can: by claiming those women for herself.

By the way, Dany puts herself at a huge risk by trying to protect those women, because she is defying Drogo’s men. When her khas goes to enforce her order, the Dothraki fight, and some men die trying to defend their rights to the spoils of war. Many of the men look at her with cold eyes. These men try to complain to the khal about this, and when Drogo dies and Dany loses the protection of his authority, Dany is in grave danger.

Also see this meta:

https://rainhadaenerys.tumblr.com/post/186687986788/adamparrush-dany-burning-mirri-maaz-duur-alive#notes

“Dany was murdering children in Astapor”

This is just bad reading comprehension, or this person is trying to distort things. Dany didn’t order the killing of children. She ordered only masters and soldiers to be killed, those actively fighting against her to keep slavery. She tell them not to harm any child below 12 to avoid the Unsullied killing innocents. Also, saying “don’t kill anyone under 12″ is not the same thing as saying “kill everyone over 12″, stupid anti.

Also, see this meta:

https://rainhadaenerys.tumblr.com/post/184630644137/hi-i-really-enjoy-your-blog-and-your-meta-i#notes

“Dany didn’t want the entire caravan from Astapor and Yunkai to follow her”

That’s a really dishonest distortion of the facts. This is what Dany actually says:

The raggle-taggle host of freedmen dwarfed her own, but they were more burden than benefit. Perhaps one in a hundred had a donkey, a camel, or an ox; most carried weapons looted from some slaver's armory, but only one in ten was strong enough to fight, and none was trained. They ate the land bare as they passed, like locusts in sandals. Yet Dany could not bring herself to abandon them as Ser Jorah and her bloodriders urged. I told them they were free. I cannot tell them now they are not free to join me. She gazed at the smoke rising from their cookfires and swallowed a sigh. She might have the best footsoldiers in the world, but she also had the worst. - Daenerys IV ASOS

Dany says that the freedmen are a burden. She is simply stating a fact, the freedmen are a burden. But she refuses to abandon them as her advisors urged, because she freaking cares about them, you idiot.

“The pile of bodies was high when she took Meereen”

Of course the pile of bodies was high! A battle to take the city just happened! Usually, when there’s a battle, people die, and there are bodies. I guess this idiot must think that Jon and Robb won all of their battles without killing a single soul. Let’s just pretend that none of Robb’s victories had any pile of bodies. Like, wow. What kind of argument even was this?

“They don’t talk about the torturing of the wineseller’s daughter”

Another blatantly lie. I do talk about the torture of the wineseller’s daughters in my books vs show meta, let me quote what I wrote here:

4) Then, after Dany executes Mossador in the name of a fair trial, she decides to throw “fair trial” out of the window by feeding one of the slavers to her dragons for revenge. This is something that never happens in the books. The closest we have to a problematic action like this is when Dany allows the wineseller’s daughters to be tortured. But this isn’t anywhere near as dark as feeding people to her dragons, for various reasons: 1) because Dany’s actions in the books are inserted in a context in which torture is seen as a normal and legitimate means of investigation by the society. Dany is not the only one that does this, and even honorable Jon Snow considers throwing Janos Slynt in an ice cell to force him to comply, and later throws Cregan Karstark in one. So Dany’s actions in the books are lawful, while in the show, they are not; 2) because Dany was trying to investigate. She was angry about what happened, but revenge was not the only motivation; 3) in the books, Dany learns a lesson from this and becomes the only ruler in ASOIAF to explicitly forbid torture.

Another thing that makes the dragon feeding scene so bad is that Dany tells the masters that she doesn’t care who’s innocent or not. But book Daenerys does care about it:

“We have no proof this is their work. Would you have me slaughter my own subjects?” – Daenerys IV ADWD

Feeding people to her dragons in the show was a criminal action taken by show Dany, and it was made out of revenge, with show Dany saying that she doesn’t care about innocence. This is very different from Dany in the books, and much much darker.

“They don’t talk about Dany enslaving people once she becomes queen”

I don’t talk about this because this never happened. Dany does allow people to sell themselves back into slavery, but only if they want to, and she very clearly doesn’t want to allow it:

Dany was shocked. “They want to be slaves?”

“The ones who come are well spoken and gently born, sweet queen. Such slaves are prized. In the Free Cities they will be tutors, scribes, bed slaves, even healers and priests. They will sleep in soft beds, eat rich foods, and dwell in manses. Here they have lost all, and live in fear and squalor.”

“I see.” Perhaps it was not so shocking, if these tales of Astapor were true. Dany thought a moment. “Any man who wishes to sell himself into slavery may do so. Or woman.” She raised a hand. “But they may not sell their children, nor a man his wife.” - Daenerys VI ASOS

Dany does this because she thinks it’s for the best. Because people convince her that otherwise, those people will live in fear and squalor. But she makes it very clear that no one is allowed to force another person into slavery. And actually, the majority of the former slaves choose to remain free. I write in more detail about this here:

https://rainhadaenerys.tumblr.com/post/182694132667/do-the-slaves-of-westeros-really-want-danys-help#notes

“They don’t talk about how Dany treated Irri”

You mean how Irri started to have sex with Dany on her own free will without Dany ever asking her? You mean how Dany treats Irri wih dignity, respects her consent, and makes it very clear to Irri that she doesn’t have to have sex with her if she doesn’t want it?

"Should I pleasure the khaleesi?"Dany stepped away from her. "No. Irri, you do not need to do that. What happened that night, when you woke . . . you're no bed slave, I freed you, remember? You . . ." - Daenerys II ASOS

Talk all you want about power difference, but Dany respected Irri’s consent, she treated her with dignity.

See also this meta:

https://rainhadaenerys.tumblr.com/post/187867805480/hiya-mindset-love-your-blog-i-was-reading#notes

And they continued on their bullshit:

They repeat a lot of the stuff I already refuted here, but there are some more:

“Jorah killed Rhaego, not MMD”

Mirri Maz Duur admits she killed Rhaego when Dany accuses her:

Dany gestured at Ser Jorah and the others. "Leave us. I would speak with this maegi alone." Mormont and the Dothraki withdrew. "You knew," Dany said when they were gone. She ached, inside and out, but her fury gave her strength. "You knew what I was buying, and you knew the price, and yet you let me pay it."

"It was wrong of them to burn my temple," the heavy, flat-nosed woman said placidly. "That angered the Great Shepherd."

"This was no god's work," Dany said coldly. If I look back I am lost. "You cheated me. You murdered my child within me." 

"The stallion who mounts the world will burn no cities now. His khalasar shall trample no nations into dust." - Daenerys IX AGOT

MMD killed an innocent child for revenge, and to prevent a supposed future. She admits it.

"She said to kill everyone in a tokar, this is every freeborn”

No, the tokar is not worn by every freeborn. The tokar is a master’s garment, and it makes it impossible to work. Those who wore it are only those who have the wealth and power and don’t have to work, aka, the freaking slave masters:

The garment was a clumsy thing, a long loose shapeless sheet that had to be wound around her hips and under an arm and over a shoulder, its dangling fringes carefully layered and displayed. Wound too loose, it was like to fall off; wound too tight, it would tangle, trip, and bind. Even wound properly, the tokar required its wearer to hold it in place with the left hand. Walking in a tokar demanded small, mincing steps and exquisite balance, lest one tread upon those heavy trailing fringes. It was not a garment meant for any man who had to work. The tokar was a master's garment, a sign of wealth and power. - Daenerys I ADWD

Ugh. Then they went on:

Again, this freaking obsession antis have to convince people that they loooooove Daenerys. I could go on refuting this idiot, but it can be summed up in “You Dany stans can’t see things objectively, I’m the only one that uses logic, blah, blah, blah”. They go on to complain that Dany killed soldiers (none of their faves ever killed soldiers, right?), to say that Dany killed slaves and freed people (no, she didn’t), that you can’t see things in black and white and divide the situation into slavers and slaves (I guess they’re trying to say that Dany is bad for killing some supposedly nice slavers), blah, blah blah.

Sorry if I went off, everyone. This made me really angry. Apparently, I’m the biased one that distorts things, and not this idiot.

[samerystargaryen]

DAM(N) THAT SUCKS

TAGGING: @acupdaniharper & @samerystargaryen

DATE: Thursday, August 30th.  

PLACE: Dani’s apartment

NOTES: Changing that chart again. Breakup: Dani & Sam

Sam

With how busy Dani had been with work since they'd returned from Florida, and even before that if she was being honest, Sam was thrilled that her girlfriend had the rest of the evening off. Things had been stressful enough with everything going on, but not seeing Dani as much as she would have liked to had her feeling disconnected and in the dark. Texts just weren't the same. Sam needed to be able to see Dani, to be able to reach out and touch her. The quick stolen moments they managed between Dani serving drink orders to waiting customers just weren't doing it anymore. Walking up to Dani's apartment with a small bouquet of assorted summer flowers, Sam was nervous. For the first time in a while, she didn't know what to expect from Dani when she opened the door. The arguing was bad enough, but spilling the fact that Sam was in love with Dani while arguing with Santana added to her stress. Any fantasy she had of telling Dani about her feelings and having them returned had vanished as quickly as they'd formed. Instead she'd blurted it out online and had no idea how Dani felt about it. She hadn't returned the words, and Sam was doing everything she could to convince herself that it was because of how it all went down. Surely when they were reunited things would be different. Reminding herself of that hopeful fact, Sam took a calming breath and knocked.

Dani

Seeing Sam that afternoon oddly made the singer slightly nervous. She knew that if she didn’t start being completely honest with the blonde about what she knew about X that it would drive their relationship apart. Part of her still felt like it wasn’t her place to tell, but the damage it was doing to their relationship wasn’t acceptable. Having changed into a pair of shorts and an off the shoulder top, Dani sighed when she heard the knock on the door. A part of her was scared she’d tell Sam how X felt and the blonde would feel differently. She opened the door and couldn’t help but smile when she saw her silly girlfriend standing there with a small bouquet of flowers. “Hey baby,” she said as she opened the door wider for other woman to get in. “What are those for,” she said nodding towards the pretty arrangement.

Sam

Seeing Dani's smile instantly brought one to Sam's face. One look from her girlfriend and her heart raced for a different reason than the nerves she was battling. "These are for you," she said as she stepped into Dani's apartment. "For being my girlfriend who I miss and hate arguing with. I didn't write all that in the card, but I bet you could tell from the heart I drew." Sam held the bouquet out to her girlfriend and made a mental note to try and bring her presents more often. The smile on Dani's face was one she wanted to keep putting there every chance she got. Looking around the apartment, Sam was glad not to see Rachel or Stevie nearby. She enjoyed getting to spend time with either of them on most occasions, but for this one, she wanted to have Dani all to herself. "And because I love you," she added as she'd been dying to say it in person. She had to try and make up for the fumbled first time and see Dani's face for herself. "So that felt like a bring flowers kind of thing."

Dani

Dani happily took the bouquet and smelled them. She was happy they weren’t roses or something else cliche. Wildflowers of different colors were more her type of thing which the blonde nailed perfectly. “I miss you too,” she replied honestly. She hasn’t been saying that enough lately, and it was her turn to explain why. However, Sam had said those three important words yet again which made her heart race and break all at once. “Before I respond to the I love you, I need to get something off my chest. Before you panic, I’m not breaking up with you, rejecting you, saying I don’t feel the same way, or any other negative thing your brain might go to. Just let me finish and then ask all the questions you want, okay?” Dani waited a beat to get confirmation before taking out her phone from her back pocket and easily flipping to the screen shots of the conversation she had with X. Then she handed the blonde the phone and waited a few moments for her to read them before talking again. 

“I didn’t want to be the one to tell you. Even though I sound like a bitch in those texts, I really am not one. They were  just making me so mad and still are,” she said sadly.“They not being honest about their feelings makes their intentions murky. I bet they were there for you last night when we were fighting, and I know they’ve been there other times. If it was just a friend, fine, but I know that’s not it. Add to that how often you say things are easy with X and how you’d marry them if I wasn’t in the picture and well, I can’t help but wonder if I’m not the right choice. I mean, what if me not saying anything is keeping you from X? And then that breaks my heart. I just, they made me feel like shit for wanting to tell you, but how can I not? How can a girlfriend know that their girlfriend’s friend has feelings for said girlfriend and it not affect their relationship? I just — what they asked of me wasn’t fair.” Dani felt a tear fall and she immediately got aggravated because she was so tired of crying. “But I owe you an apology. I’ve been pushing you away out of fear of getting my heart broken because seeing how you two act and talk to each other when I know it isn’t all black and white scared me. I dont want to get hurt. I just — I thought you deserved and explanation why I’ve been the way I have which is why I’m showing you those texts.”

Sam

No matter how many times that Sam told herself that she would be okay if Dani didn't return her same feelings, the hesitation and serious tone felt like she'd been punched in the chest. Each negative thought Dani listed stuck in Sam's head despite being exactly the opposite of what she'd told her to do. Just hearing Dani saying the words breaking up had Sam's world turning upside down. As much as her mind was able to run wild often into negative directions, she hadn't imagined expressing her love could somehow end them. Sam took a small step back to lean against the kitchen counter, needing the extra support and the feeling of something solid behind her. She tried to keep an open mind as Dani continued and took her words as she said them without trying to figure out where they were going. She owed it to Dani to hear her out, and so with a slight nod of her head, she prepared herself to do just that. The mention of X was unexpected, but not exactly a surprise. Her friend had been the topic of arguments more than once, but Sam made a conscience effort to hear what Dani was saying without saying anything in return. She'd told her girlfriend that she wanted to know how she felt and for her to talk to her about anything she wanted to, presented with that, Sam wasn't about to turn her away.

The texts were hard to read with her mind feeling overwhelmed and bordering on panicked, but it was easy enough to get the main points of it. It wasn't until Dani continued that things started to fall into place for Sam. Seeing the tears streak down Dani's cheek, Sam had to catch herself from reaching up to stroke her cheek and wipe one away. "You shouldn't have to keep anything from me," she said to start with. The night before had been enough of a mess with what secrets were okay to tell to who that Sam was over trying to keep track of it all. She was terrible at it on the best of days, but with so much on their plates already, secrets had no room to join in. "Especially not something that's bothering you." Sam reached out and took Dani's hand in hers, hoping that the contact was a welcomed one. "I mean..." Struggling to form the rushing thoughts in her head into words that made any sense at all, Sam took a deep breath and reached out with her other hand to join the one already holding Dani's. "It doesn't change how I feel about you," she said honestly before anything else. It felt like the most important thing to her and what she wanted Dani to know more than anything. 

"I don't think that X has secret motives for wanting to hang out with me. I mean, at least I hope not," she admitted before continuing. Even the idea that she'd been manipulated stung. She didn't want to believe that X would do that. Sam had plenty of time later to try and figure out her friendship with X and what any of it meant. Dani was who she wanted to focus on right now, and so she did."But even if they did, you're the one that I want to be with. Anyone could walk up to me and tell me that they want to be with me, and I'd tell them all that I have a girlfriend." Sam swallowed hard and bit down on the inside of her lip to try and keep herself from crying. Dani had laid her heart out in her honesty. She'd spilled her insecurities and laid it bare, and Sam owed it to her to do the same. "You're the right choice for me. I can feel it every time that we're together. I can feel it right now." Squeezing Dani's hands softly in hers, Sam relished the feeling of having Dani back. The open and honest Dani that she'd been falling in love with the whole time. "You aren't keeping me from anything or anyone." Looking up from their joined hands to look into Dani's eyes, she hoped the honesty was written all over her face. "This is where I belong. Right here, with you."

Dani

Dani felt terrible. Sam was honestly the sweetest person she'd ever met, but she knew that she wasn't in the right place to be with her. Breaking her heart wasn't something she wanted to do, and she hated herself for it. "Sammy," she said with tears already in her eyes. "You have no idea how much I just want to run into those strong arms of yours and feel like I can ignore everything I'm feeling, but I can't," she said with a shake of her head. "I'm not happy, and it's NOT because of you. Do you hear me? I just -- I'm not happy with where I am right now. There are some things I need to work on, and I don't think me staying with you right now would be fair to you. My feelings are all over the place, and just I know I have to focus on myself right now." She took a shuddering breath in and forced herself to stop crying. Later on she could cry, but she refused to when she was breaking the heart of a truly good person. "You're going to be mad at me. Hell, you might even hate me, and I'll take that. I promise you though that I'm not leaving you for Santana or anyone else. I really am going to work on me. I don't expect you to wait around or anything like that."

Sam

"Wait, what?" Sam didn't want to believe what she was hearing. She knew she wasn't the best at expressing how she was feeling in words, but she hadn't imagined it would lead her to getting dumped either. "But you just said..." Letting go of Dani's hand that she'd been foolishly holding on to, the lump in her throat began to grow. Her world was crashing down around her. She would have given anything for a DeLorean and some well timed lightening, but she didn't know when she would travel back to. There had to be something she could have done differently. Something that she could have said. Answered one less meme question on tumblr or spent less time hanging out with her friends. Maybe traveling back and saving herself from opening her heart to someone else again would have been the safer option. "You said you'd never hurt me," she said softly as much to herself as Dani. As the tears clouded her vision, Sam shook her head in an attempt to erase the past few minutes from existence. "I could help you. All I've wanted was to be there for you. I'm in love with you, Dani. Why did you let me...?" Sam shook her head and looked at the woman standing in front of her. Realizing that she'd managed to get it so wrong again, Sam attempted to pick up the pieces of her shattered heart and left.

[ellellelephante]

the things you find in asoiaf wank 😬 let’s take this apart and review the other blogs posts. I won’t include them, as this stuff is the reason that (among the app being sabotaged) I left this app after season 8 aired. If I keep up this blog and start over I don’t want all of that wank here.

going through a tag and finding this (FYI, asoiaf wank isn’t an uncommon tag esp when navigating through asoiaf related tags so I love I already can’t avoid this) is super frustrating. idk when Sansa v Dany became the only thing this fandom cared about but 😪

I’m pretty sure the point was that you were shitting on someone’s take on the piece. I think you mighta taken the post to mean ‘this is about them not liking my favorite house and thinking someone else is equal or better’ instead of ‘maybe your thoughts and interpretations are different and shitting on other interpretations is lazy and makes this fandom hostile’.

I also am pretty sure that she said she disagreed with that head cannon and I don’t see any theories like that on the blog. Someone liking a grey interpretations of Dany and others don’t, and that’s the worst I’ve seen. I really don’t like that theory but that’s up to someone to come to their own conclusions about (dark arc -waiting for her trip to Volantis- yes, season 8 NO). A legitimate meta disproproving the point, sans the condescending tone, is kosher as hell but just telling someone to she the fuck up is kinda silly.

what is wild is the person who flew off the handle and started cursing about it wasn’t the other blog either, so the ‘she’s so rude’ thing kind of sounds whiny. she was persistent, I will give you that, but it also seemed like you had a bit of time to spare too, until you ran out of the above stuff to say. if someone can get paid and have an argument on the internet, I don’t see why not. especially when it’s this frustrating.

she reblogs Targ and Stark content, from what I can see. At no point did she try and shit on Targaryens, Dany nor did she agree with the thing you decided to take a dump on. in fact, it was you and the other people asking that did that.

the dragons never even came up? nor did Dany? And Sansa came up because the theory/interpretation/whatever was discussing her directly? again, why the hell does everything have to devolve to Sansa v Dany/Jonas v Jonerys? it’s annoying to find both of them compelling because this rabid behavior makes it impossible to use tags to find anything, even the silly ones.

idk I took a break from this app and skimming through this tag from the Targ tag is depressing. It is impossible to have someone who doesn’t have some wack ass bullshit on their blog. the rabid Sansa and Dany stans are the actual worst and make this fandom uninhabitable.

just in case someone tries to get it twisted later, no ones coming for the Targs, Dany or saying that Sansa is the equivalent to or superior than any member of that dynasty. I’m saying that this is the kind of thing that has made this fandom toxic wherever you go and no one really needs to be a dick head about a story made by a cisgendered heterosexual old white man.

this is a good second post for this blog, if I stay, because I want to take all of that to say that I will not ever post this sort of catty shenanigans going forward. this space is for all of our Queens and none of this negativity. your theories and met and all that is welcome, regardless of the character or relationship. I will go through the tags for you, since you can’t take a piss without hitting something like this from Stan-tumblr.

I fully expect the same level of snark and/or a block as well, and for this to somehow get back to being anti something, but I want to use this blog to collect the positive and constructive side of this app. I will tag anything like this as negative nancy tag so I can keep it to the tiny corner it belongs in.

Nothing wrong with different interpretations of a character, but said interpretations have to make sense in first place. Comparing Sansa to characters like Rhaena makes no sense and is an erasure of both characters' personal characteristics. Not to mention, people who make this type of parallels, or hate on Dany, seem to forget there is a difference between canon (books made by the creator) and the show, particularly the last seasons from which they draw most material for their reasoning (I)

You're absolutely right! The hypocrisy and lack of logic has always been so amusing to me lmao. I love how antis make it out as if only their opinions are valid and anyone stating otherwise is just plain wrong - only to play the victim after being called out. It's happened so many times.

The amount of anti-Targ and anti-dragon discourse I see only for them to covet Targaryen traits and arcs for their own faves... it's just so tragic. I've also heard they get paid to start wank and discourse and that's even worse but it would explain a lot now I think of it 😂😂😂