#it's the chapter missandei is introduced!

[filhadoboto]

Falling for You - Chapter 3

SUMMARY: Daenerys and Jon are introduced by their friends during the harvest festival in Highgarden and, wanting to escape harassment from their exes, they end up deciding to pretend they are together. (rating: E)

Written for "Jonerys Falling for You 2023" - Day 2 - Harvest Festival

@iceandfirejonerysdiscord

AO3

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3 - Harvesting love

He is hot!

That was the first thought that crossed Daenerys Targaryen's mind when she saw Arya, her cousin Gendry's girlfriend, approaching them in the company of her older brother.

Gendry had described Jon Snow to her a few times over the past few weeks, probably trying to get her interested in him, but never once had he said he was so handsome and attractive. Her cousin had talked about his sense of humor, his personality and even his performance in sports and that he shared some physical attributes with Arya, but he hadn't said that he was mesmerizingly handsome.

Not that Quentyn Martell, the last guy her nephew and niece, Aegon and Rhaenys, introduced her to before her trip to Highgarden wasn't attractive, but upon seeing the northman walking towards her, Daenerys was not only forced to control her expression but couldn't help but to think that she would like to climb him as if he were a tree.

Gendry went to meet his girlfriend and, next to her, Missandei whispered in a provocative tone “You liked him, didn’t you?”

Dany gave her a disapproving look, but her friend laughed at her reaction. Missandei knew her too well and Dany knew that responding or remaining silent wouldn't make a difference.

“Yes, you did!” she said and before Dany could say anything, the three joined them and Gendry said “Guys, this is Jon, Arya's older brother." he turned to Jon and said “These are our friends Missandei and Gray and my cousin Daenerys.”

Jon was even more handsome up close and when he smiled, Dany felt something very similar to the feeling of butterflies flying madly in her stomach.

They exchanged greetings and Jon said “I’ve heard so much about you guys and it’s a pleasure to be able to meet you in person.”

“Arya talks about her big brother all the time.” Missandei said with a smile.

Jon smiled, wrapped an arm around his sister's shoulders and kissed her hair.

“And we were all excited to meet you when she said you’d be joining us for the weekend.” added Gray.

Arya smiled and said “I spent weeks talking about how much fun we had last year and how I wanted him to meet you guys, but it was Gendry who managed to convince him to come.”

Arya looked at her boyfriend and he raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I still don't know how I managed to convince him.”

She looked at her brother “I just thought it would be nice to meet new people and a different culture.” Jon offered.

“You definitely need to meet new people, Jon.” said Arya in a serious tone and turned to them before adding “As this is his first time at the festival, we'll have to show him as much as possible over the weekend.”

They took turns telling Jon about the festival and what they had planned to do over the weekend. This was Dany's second time visiting the festival and she planned to make it a tradition. During harvest time, the entire Reach region was filled with tourists from all over Westeros and from outside the country as well. There were more than twenty cities in the region and each of them held its own festival, but Highgarden's harvest festival was the largest of them and the most famous in Westeros. It took place during the first full moon of autumn and lasted a week. In general, the entire region celebrated harvest time in the same way: with lots of food and drink, with songs about the land and the harvest, dances and open-air theatrical performances related to local legends.

“We can start with the food booths.” suggested Dany and she noticed that Jon was watching her closely “And then check out the local craft booths while we wait for the evening's shows and cultural presentations to begin.”

Everyone agreed and for a few minutes they walked as a group. But then, with some irritation, Dany watched as her friends split into couples so that not only could they walk more easily through the crowd, but also to force her and Jon to keep each other company. She had no doubt that Arya and Gendry's plan was to set them up. Although she didn't deny that she found Jon attractive, she didn't need her friends to set her up for her to get her a boyfriend.

“They don’t even hide that they’re trying to set us up!” he commented as the two walked behind their friends.

“They must think they are being very subtle.” she agreed and they both laughed.

“I'm so sorry. You don’t have to hang out with me if you don’t want to.” he said “I’m feeling embarrassed about this situation.”

“No need to apologize, I know it’s not your fault.” he gave her a grateful smile and she continued “They're only doing this because they care about both of us, so since we're here, what do you think about us being friends?” she asked and he gave her a curious look. “I'm not ready to get into another relationship right now, but I'm always open to new friends.”

“That’s a great idea, Dany.” he said, looking relieved and then asked “Can I call you Dany?” she nodded and he smiled before continuing “I'm also always open to new friendships and it's much easier to have fun without so much pressure.”

“I’m glad we agreed.”

From then on, the mood between them became lighter and the two strolled through the attractions and booths knowing that their smiles and comments were spontaneous and genuine. Dany felt comfortable with Jon and he seemed comfortable with her. He made her laugh and talk about things she usually kept to herself , and less than two hours after meeting him, she felt like she had known him her entire life.

They talked about their childhoods and their families. About their pets. He had an albino dog named Ghost and she had three cats named Drogon, Rhaegal and Viserion. About their fears and their dreams. About their plans for the future and their latest relationships.

“Ygritte and I were a very toxic couple.” he explained “When we weren't in bed, we always managed to bring out the worst in each other. The two of us would fight for almost any reason, and most of the time, one of us would break up and the other would regret it and ask to get back together. She was my first in many things, and although I loved her very much and thought I would spend my whole life with her, I felt lonely even with her by my side.”

Dany nodded and gave him an understanding smile. She understood well that feeling of feeling alone even though you were next to your partner. She had felt this way with all her boyfriends, especially Daario.

He took out his cell phone and showed her a photo of him together with his ex, Arya and Ghost. Ygritte was a pretty redhead, and from her posture in the photo, Dany couldn't help but think about what a possessive girl she seemed to be.

Jon put his cell phone in his pocket and pointed to the scar on his face before saying “During one of our fights a few months ago, she used a fork to scratch my face because she didn't want other women to find me attractive and that's when I realized I couldn't go on with her anymore. So I broke up with her and have been refusing her calls for months and avoiding places I know I can meet her. I know she will ask me for forgiveness and say she will change, but I know she won't change and I don't want to give in to temptation.” he concluded.

“I’m sorry for what she did to you.” she said, and before she could control herself, Dany heard herself adding, “And know that she couldn't make you any less attractive, Jon.”

He gave her a satisfied smile and asked “What about you?”

“I got out of an abusive relationship.” she replied “I met Daario at a party at my father's company. He is the charming and flirtatious type with everyone and that's what won me over in the beginning. He treated me like his trophy girlfriend and liked to control what I ate and drank, my clothes, my makeup and the jewelry I wore, and even the size and style of my hair. He even tried to control when I could talk to or meet my friends, and for a while it didn't bother me because I thought he just cared about me. But when I realized he liked fucking his boss's daughter more than he liked me, I decided it was time to break up. I realized that I didn't love him, I loved the way he had made me feel in the beginning, like I was precious and unique to him.” she laughed bitterly. “He was furious with me, because not only did he have plans to propose to me, he had already bought the ring and asked my father for permission.”

Dany took out her cell phone and showed him one of her photos with Daario. She had deleted most of them, but preserved the ones where they were with her friends or family.

“My father and brother really like him and tried to convince me to get back together with him, but I refused.” she continued “This trip is to give me a break from all the pressure.”

“You know they can’t force you to marry someone you don’t love, don’t you?”

"I know." she replied “They will stop insisting as soon as I find someone else.”

“I understand and I feel like Ygritte will only leave me alone when she sees me with someone else too.”

he said and then his expression changed, as if he had just had an epiphany, and he gave her a conspiratorial look.

“What is it?” she asked, curious.

“Nothing.”

“Jon!” she said and held his hand making him stop and look at her “Tell me!”

“It was just a silly idea.”

“I want to know it anyway!”

“All right.” he agreed. “It’s just a silly idea.” he repeated “You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.”

“What is it?” she asked anxiously.

“We can take a photo together and post it on our social media making it appear that we are on a date. Since that is their intention, our friends would certainly confirm it if Ygritte and Daario asked them.” he said finally “But only if you want.”

She thought for a few seconds. That wasn't a bad idea. “I agree. Lets do this.”

Jon gave her a cheerful smile, but then he saw something behind her that made him look serious. In the next second, he was holding her against his body and his lips were pressing against hers. Just that contact left her breathless and before Dany had time to react, he hugged her and whispered in an urgent, pleading tone against her neck “Please, Dany. Just play along.”

She didn't have time to say anything before she heard a woman's voice say in a happy and surprised tone, “Jon?”

He released her and said in a serious tone “Ygritte.”

Dany turned and found herself facing Jon's ex. He held her hand tightly as if he were afraid she would abandon him and, understanding the situation and his urgent tone, Dany brought her body closer to his, contributing to the image that the two were a couple.

“Hello! It’s so good to see you again!”

“It’s good to see you too, Ygritte.” he greeted her in a polite tone and the girl smiled. Jon turned to Dany before saying, “This is Daenerys, my girlfriend.”

The redhead's smile faded when she heard his words and her expression filled with jealousy when she saw the two holding hands. Had she come to him with the idea of reconciliation?

“Girlfriend? I didn’t know you were seeing anyone.”

“It’s something recent.” Dany said and offered her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” she said with a polite smile.

The girl greeted her with an embarrassed smile “I'm Ygritte. It's nice to meet you too.”

“Jon told me a lot about you.” Dany added, which technically wasn't a lie.

“Is that true?” Ygritte asked, giving her ex a curious look and he nodded. His expression didn't reveal what he was feeling or thinking, but from the way he held her hand, Dany deduced that he wasn't very comfortable or happy with the situation.

“Don’t worry, he only said good things about you.” she explained.

The redhead looked at Jon before saying “I knew you were here, but I didn't imagine I would find you so easily or accompanied.”

She definitely came looking for him wanting a reconciliation, Dany thought, And if Jon wanted a reconciliation, he wouldn't have kissed me or told her we were together.

Very consciously , Dany snuggled against Jon and placed her free hand on his chest. In the next second, his other hand landed on hers and held it tightly.

“And I never imagined I would find you here.” he commented “You were never a big fan of that stuff when we were together.”

“People change, Jon.” she argued and gave him a stern look.

“I know people change, but not everyone has the patience to wait.” he argued.

Ygritte looked offended, but she forced herself to smile and say, “It was good to see you again.” she looked at Dany “It was nice meeting you.”

“It was nice meeting you, too.” she said and Ygritte left.

When the two were alone, Dany asked “I am your girlfriend?”

“I'm sorry I put you in this situation, but please, Dany, I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend. Just for the weekend!” he asked, still holding her hands. She tried to ignore the fact that she was loving the feel of his skin against hers and that the idea of being his girlfriend didn't bother her.

“Why don’t you just tell her you don’t want to get back together with her anymore?”

“You don’t know her.” he replied “Ygritte can be quite persuasive when she wants something.”

“So you still have feelings for her.” she asked, but it sounded more like a statement.

He thought for a few seconds “No, I don't. At least not positive feelings. But being with her is like an old habit, and like a habit, I need time to break it.”

She nodded and took a deep breath before saying, “Our friends are going to be unbearable when they see us together, even if it's just pretending.”

Jon smiled, hugged her and twirled her around in his arms. Even without meaning to, she laughed. The people around them looked at them, some with curiosity, some with confusion, some with surprise, and some just smiled as if they were witnessing something unexpected yet sweet.

“Thank you, Dany. Thank you!” he said as he set her down.

“Don’t thank me yet.” she said, her heart beating fast due to her proximity to him. “And I want you to promise me that you won’t fall in love with me this weekend.”

He looked at her for a few seconds and there was something in his gray eyes that she couldn't decipher. Jon took her hand and placed a soft kiss before saying, looking into her eyes, “I promise.”

Arya and Gendry chose that moment to reappear and their smug smile only confirmed what Dany had thought. To their credit, the newcomers made no comment about what they had just seen.

“We got great seats to watch today’s show.” Gendry said.

“Missie and Gray are waiting for us there.” added Arya.

They nodded and let the two lead them through the crowd.

“Ygritte is here.” she heard Arya tell her brother in a disgusted tone.

"I know. We just spoke.” he informed.

“And how did she react to seeing you with Dany?” she asked.

“Better than I expected.” he replied “But we still have the whole weekend to see if she can control herself.”

They joined Missandei and Gray to watch the show. Dany suggested to Jon that they take a photo together and post it just as he had suggested and they did. And when they went to take a group photo and Jon wrapped his arms around her and placed a tender kiss on her hair, for a few seconds she allowed herself to think that it was real.

---

The next morning there was some unpleasant news waiting for her when Dany came down for breakfast.

“Daario is here.” said Missandei as soon as she saw her.

She sat down on the chair opposite her friend and asked “Here at our hotel or here in the city?”

“Both.” she replied “Gray told me he asked about you and he refused to answer, of course.”

Dany closed her eyes and took a deep breath before asking, “How did he find out I was here?”

“What do you think?” asked Missie and they both said at the same time “Viserys.”

Of course. Reservations at the hotel they were staying in had been sold out weeks ago because of the festival and the only way Daario would have been able to stay there was if Viserys offered him his reservation. She should have suspected this might happen when her brother asked her to make reservations for him too. Her brother had been friends with Daario for years and was much more interested in having him as a member of the family than Daenerys herself had ever been.

“At least we’ll be gone for the day and he won’t have the chance to get close to you.” said her friend trying to cheer her up.

Their group would spend the day taking a walk around Highgarden, visiting some ancient fortresses and castles and tasting the delicacies made by the residents at that time of year.

“That doesn’t mean he’s going to give up, Missie.”

“But you’re with Jon now. Daario will leave you alone when he finds out you’re together.”

“That is the problem.” Dany said, looking her in the eyes “We’re not together.”

Missandei stared at her open-mouthed “But I thought you guys were getting along well! Did he try to do something you didn’t want?”

“It's not that.” Dany clarified “We’re pretending we’re together because of his ex.”

Missandei's face filled with a mix of disappointment and sadness and she held her hand on the table in a consoling gesture. Dany gave her a summary of what Jon had told her and what had happened last night.

“That's a shame. You two look so perfect together.” said Missie when she finished.

Dany gave her a sad smile. “We both agreed to just be friends, Missie.”

“Well, in case you don’t remember, Gray and I were also friends before we became a couple.” she commented in a hopeful tone.

Dany didn't have a chance to respond, as at that moment Jon, Arya, Gendry and Gray entered the restaurant. Jon placed a soft kiss on her hair and sat down next to her. Around them, their friends exchanged happy and satisfied glances. They ate while talking about the itinerary they would follow on the tour and, about an hour later, they left the hotel.

“You won’t guess who also decided to show up here.” she said when the two had a chance to be alone.

“Your ex.” Jon said and she looked at him “Gendry showed him to me when we were leaving the hotel.”

“Oh.” she said and a strange silence weighed between the two for a few seconds.

“If you want to go back to him, I understand.” said Jon in a determined tone. “We can fake a disagreement and you're free of me. I think I can handle Ygritte on my own.”

Dany looked at him “If there is one thing that I am absolutely certain of in my life, it is that I don’t want to get back together with Daario.”

Jon gave her a relieved smile. Dany held his hand and said “Come on, boyfriend, there’s still a lot for us to see and savor before we go back to the hotel.”

He gave her a bright smile and they joined their friends.

Shortly afterwards, Ygritte crossed their path. This time, it was Dany who saw Jon's ex first and, even though she knew that just being close to him or holding his hand was enough to give the impression that they were together, Dany wrapped her arms around his neck and he responded by wrapping his arms around her waist. She stood on tiptoe and he met her halfway.

“Ygritte is here.” she whispered against his lips and, in response, Jon held her tighter and kissed her enthusiastically.

Dany returned the kiss with the same enthusiasm and tried to ignore all the feelings and sensations, tried to ignore the heat building up in her body, especially between her legs.

Ygritte didn't interrupt them this time, but about half an hour later, she and her friends split up to buy some gifts to take home. Dany found the redhead in one of the artisanal products stores where she went to buy soaps produced in the region to take to her mother, her sister-in-law and her niece.

“Hey!” said a vaguely familiar voice and Dany turned to see it was the redhead. “It's Daenys, isn't it?”

Dany had no doubt that the girl had gotten her name wrong on purpose, probably trying to provoke her, but she gave her a polite smile and corrected her “It's Daenerys. Hi, Ygritte.”

She gave her a small satisfied smile, looked around as if searching for something or someone and asked “Isn’t Jon with you?”

“No, he’s with Arya buying some gifts for their mother in another store.”

“Oh, Lyanna is a wonderful woman, isn’t she? I can’t say who he likes more, his mother or his sister.” she commented and Dany thought she heard a hint of jealousy in her voice.

The night they met, Jon had said he didn't know his biological father and had spoken little about his mother, but it was obvious that he really liked her and that the two were very close.

Trying to avoid any more questions, Dany just smiled and nodded.

“Can I ask you something personal?” Ygritte asked.

“Sure.”

“How long have you and Jon been together? I ask because no one in his family had heard of you or knew you existed until he posted a photo of you together yesterday.”

So Ygritte was still in contact with Jon's family and getting news of him through them. Did he know that? Was his mother in favor of him getting back together with Ygritte even though their relationship was so troubled?

Dany looked at her for a few seconds as she thought about how to answer that question. Was the girl suspecting that she and Jon were not, in fact, together? If so, then she needed to be careful with her answers.

“Technically we started dating yesterday.” she replied “When you found us, Jon had just asked me to be his girlfriend. But we had already been talking online for weeks.”

“How did you meet him?”

“My cousin, Gendry, is Arya’s boyfriend and we met through them.”

She nodded slowly and there was something like betrayal in her eyes.

“Do you like Jon?”

“I wouldn’t date him if I didn’t like him.” she replied.

“Then let me give you some advice.” she continued, taking a step towards her “Don’t get too attached to Jon. I marked him as mine and nothing you do or say will break the connection between the two of us. He doesn't know what's good for him and I know he's only with you to make me jealous and show me that he can have the woman he wants, whenever he wants. As soon as he thinks I've learned my lesson, he'll leave you and come back to me.” Ygritte took another step, invading Dany's personal space. “I'm his and he's mine and it won't be a woman like you who's going to make that change.”

Dany didn't back down. She just looked her in the eyes and smiled before saying “If you were really so sure about that, you wouldn't be here saying these things to me. And you wouldn’t have come after Jon either.”

Her eyes filled with fury, and for a second, Dany thought Ygritte would slap her.

“I already warned you. He is mine and I don’t share.” she practically growled and those words seemed to awaken Dany's protective instinct.

“He was yours, Ygritte. Was. As you know, Jon has already moved on.” replied Dany, “And since you were so helpful in giving me advice, let me return the favor. You should start thinking about moving on too. He's with me now and nothing you say or do will make me give up on him.”

The girl didn't say anything and simply turned and started walking towards the door.

“Ygritte, wait.” said Dany and went to the redhead. “Now that I've had the opportunity to meet you in person, I need to thank you for everything you've done to Jon.”

“What do you mean?” she asked in a defensive tone.

“Everything he went through with you made him the perfect man for me.” she replied with a small satisfied smile.

Ygritte laughed before saying, “Let's see if you'll continue to think that when he's in my arms again, Daenys.”

Dany couldn't help but laugh at that provocation as she watched her leave the store and only then did she worry about making her purchases. As she chose the products she would buy, she replayed in her mind what had just happened. Ygritte seemed, in fact, to still like Jon and Dany couldn't help but wonder what she could do to try to convince him to reconcile with her.

After finishing her purchases, Dany went in search of her friends. She had arranged to meet them at the end of the street and she wanted to tell Jon what Ygritte had told her. However, as soon as she left the store, Daario found her.

She hadn't had much luck in love, so the first time she attended the harvest festival she made a wish at the labyrinth fountain, and when she met Daario a few weeks later, she thought he was the answer to that wish. It had taken her almost a year to understand that he wasn't.

Before him there had been Drogo, a sexy Dothraki who had looked at her and treated her as if she were his property. And Xaro Xhoan Daxos, a charming and elegant merchant from Qarth who had proposed to her about twenty minutes after they met.

“I was looking for you everywhere, Princess.”

Since she found out that he was not only in the city but also in the same hotel as her, Dany had prepared herself for the moment when she would meet him.

“Daario.” she greeted him with a hostile tone.

He pressed a kiss to her cheek, so close to her mouth that she had to move her head before he kissed her lips. She took a step away from him and he gave her a disappointed look.

Before she asked how he found her, she remembered that she had received a message from Viserys asking her where she was and if she was having fun and Dany had naively told him where she was and what she was doing. Of course Viserys had shared the information with his friend.

“Aren’t you going to ask what I’m doing here?”

“I already know what you’re doing here, Daario.” she replied. He gave her a mischievous smile before saying “Then you also know that I won't take no for an answer.”

“You may not want to accept my no, but you will have to accept the fact that I…”

“There you are, sweetheart.” Jon said, interrupting her, his arm wrapping possessively around her waist and pressing his body against hers.

Daario looked at Jon with a confused expression that turned irritated when he looked at his arm around her waist.

“Sorry it took so long. I ran into an old friend and ended up losing track of time.” he continued, ignoring Daario's existence. “Do you remember Sam?”

She had no idea who Sam was, but she nodded and responded enthusiastically, “Of course! How is he?”

“He is great. Gilly is pregnant and they decided to get married.” he replied in an excited tone.

“What good news! They were made for each other.” she said in an excited tone. “We need to look for a gift for them and the baby when we get home.”

Jon gave her an excited smile and nodded. “I think they're going to ask us to be the baby's godparents.”

The sound of throat clearing caught their attention. Daario watched them with a hostile expression.

“Princess, won’t you introduce me to your friend?” he asked.

She looked at him as if she had forgotten his existence and said in an irritated tone “Of course. Daario, this is Jon Snow, my boyfriend. Jon this is…”

“I am her future husband.” Daario interrupted her in a petulant tone.

Dany gave him a venomous look and corrected him “That’s Daario, my ex.”

Jon gave him a polite smile and offered his hand and Daario shook it. “Dany mentioned you once or twice before.” commented Jon.

“Just mentioned me?” asked Daario looking offended “We dated for years and almost got married and she just mentioned me?”

Years? We've barely spent eight months together!, she thought, but she didn't get the chance to correct him as Jon responded in an indifferent tone “Apparently there wasn’t much else to mention, even after eight months together.” and she wanted to kiss him just because he corrected Daario.

Daario gave her a hurt look. “I thought you would have more to say about your first love, Princess.”

“You were many things in my life, Daario, but you were not my first love.”

“Ouch!” he said, placing his hand over his heart and pretending he had been hit by a projectile. “You don't need to be so cruel to me just to impress your new toy, Princess.”

She felt Jon tense up and hold her tighter against him.

“If thinking that makes you feel better, then keep going.” she countered.

Daario looked at Jon “Don't be fooled by her delicate beauty, boy. She will break your heart when she gets tired of you and will abandon you without a drop of remorse.”

To her surprise, Jon said, “I would be honored to have my heart broken by a woman as extraordinary as Dany, but thanks for the warning.”

She gave him a sincere smile “It’s not in my plans to break your heart, my love.” she said and Jon gave her a sweet smile that made her wish he would kiss her again.

Daario apparently wasn't willing to just leave her alone, as he said “She seems perfect, but let me tell you she has some pretty annoying flaws.”

Dany looked at him “And you were perfect, weren’t you?” she replied, feeling her blood boil with anger.

“Maybe what made her imperfect in your eyes is exactly what makes her perfect in mine.” Jon intervened and there was a hint of irritation in his voice.

“I see she already has you wrapped around her little finger, so let me warn you that my Princess prefers more experienced men, if you know what I mean.” stated Daario giving Jon an insinuating wink “So let's see if you'll keep thinking like that when she abandons you the way she abandoned me. And since I know it won't take long, if I were you, I wouldn't get too attached to her.” he looked at her and added “I'll be waiting for you when you get tired of him.”

“There is no future between the two of us, Daario. And you know that very well.” she said and Daario just gave her a teasing wink and walked away.

“Will you be mad at me if I punch him the next time he talks to you like that?” Jon asked as he watched Daario walk away.

"Don't worry. If he talks to me like that one more time, I will have the pleasure of breaking his nose myself.” she said and asked “Who are Sam and Gilly?”

He seemed confused by the sudden change of subject, but replied “Sam is my friend and Gilly is his wife.”

“And they’re really here?”

"No. Missandei saw Daario and we decided to look for you. I had to think quickly when I saw you two.”

She gave him a grateful smile and said “He's lucky it was you and not Missandei who found us.”

“Why?”

She gave him a wicked smile. “She carries pepper spray in her purse and promised she would use the whole can on him the next time he bothers me.”

Jon laughed and the sound made the butterflies in her stomach flutter. She didn't want to ruin the moment, but she needed to tell him about Ygritte.

“I met Ygritte before I met Daario.” she said and told everything that had happened.

Jon was uncomfortable and apologized. “I really didn't think she would have the courage to confront you or that she would come to Highgarden, actually.”

“Do you have any idea who might have told her you would be here?”

Jon thought for a few seconds. “It must have been one of our mutual friends.” he replied and then added “My trip here wasn't exactly a secret.”

Dany smiled and suggested “I think we should introduce her to Daario.”

“Since they don’t know when to give up, they will either come together to separate us or they will make a perfect couple.” he said.

They both laughed and her eyes rested on his lips for a few seconds. Not for the first time, Dany wished their relationship was real, that she could just kiss him whenever she wanted and touch him without needing an excuse.

Jon offered her his hand and she took it. As they walked together to meet the others, Dany realized that when she had made Jon promise not to fall in love with her, she had not taken into consideration the fact that she would fall in love with him.

Missandei found them and Dany quickly told her what had happened. They didn't see Ygritte or Daario again and she allowed herself to enjoy that moment with Jon knowing that everything would end the next night.

But apparently fate had something different in mind.

That night, when they arrived at the festival site and their friends separated from them to participate in fun as a couple, leaving her and Jon alone, he turned to her and said in a serious tone “Can I talk to you for a moment?” she nodded “Do you know of a place where we can talk more privately?”

She nodded. The festival was held outside the Highgarden Castle, but public access was only permitted during the day. Then, knowing that there would be few people around, she guided him towards it. Taking care not to be seen by security, she took him to one of the gardens close to the castle where they could talk in complete privacy.

“Ygritte came to see me when we arrived at the hotel.” he said when they stopped.

Dany felt her heart skip a beat when she heard him, but she waited for him to continue.

“I don't know how, but she found out my room number and went there to try to reconcile with me. She said she loved me and that I would never find someone who loved me as much as she did, that she had already learned her lesson and that I could discard you and come back to her.” Jon made the quote gesture with his fingers when he said the word discard.

“And what did you say?” she asked.

“I said I didn’t want anything to do with her anymore, not even to be friends with her.” he replied and she felt her body fill with relief and then with a mix of jealousy and fear when he continued “First she tried to kiss me and take me to bed. This was an old tactic of hers and it always worked, but when she noticed my disinterest, Ygritte became very angry.” he took a deep breath “And then she told me that she didn't need to beg for my love and that she had cheated on me with one of her co-workers, that she looked for him every time we fought.” he looked at her “I can't say it didn't bother me to know I was cheated on, but it didn't hurt. You understand?” he asked and she nodded “And when she left I felt relief and that I had finally closed that chapter of my life.”

She deduced that he was saying that because he wanted them to stop pretending that they were together and said “Then we don't need to keep pretending that we are together anymore.”

For a second, she could have sworn she saw panic in his beautiful gray eyes.

“I think she might still be in town, and besides, I’m not leaving you alone while that asshole ex of yours is around.”

“You don’t have to do this, Jon. I can handle Daario, don’t worry.” she said she said in a carefree tone, but hoping that he would say that he wanted to continue their theater until the next night.

“I know you can do it, Dany, but I…”

Jon hesitated, as if he wasn't sure what to say. He looked into her eyes for a few seconds and then kissed her. Taken by surprise, she felt herself freeze. They had kissed other times, but only when one of their exes was around.

Probably taking her surprise as rejection, Jon released her and took a step away from her.

“Dany, I… I swear I didn’t mean to… I just, I didn’t think… you were there and then suddenly… I felt and… I… I mean, I am so…” he stammered.

Even though she was enjoying seeing him embarrassed, with his red cheeks and stumbling over his words, Dany silenced him with a kiss. Her arms wrapped around his neck and Jon didn't hesitate to respond and his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer to him.

“Jon, I want this to be real.” she whispered against his lips.

“What?” he asked and there was hope in his voice and in his gray eyes.

“Us.” she replied “I want us to be real boyfriend and girlfriend. No more pretending.”

He looked at her for a few seconds before giving her a tender smile “Oh, Dany, but for me it was always real. Every second we spent together was real to me.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” he replied “And I also want our relationship to be real.” he kissed her cheeks “I want to be able to show everyone that I am yours.” he kissed her nose “I want to be able to hold your hand and kiss you whenever I want.”

She gave him a sweet smile before teasingly reminding him of his promise to her “You promised you wouldn’t fall in love with me.”

He looked her in the eyes and gave her a sweet smile before confessing “I embarked on this trip already enchanted by you after hearing Arya and Gendry talking about you and I fell in love the second I saw you, Dany.” he placed his hand on her cheek and traced the outline of her lower lip with his thumb. “These two days with you have been some of the best days of my life and I was scared that you wouldn't feel the same way I do. I was scared I would never see you again.” he held her hand and placed a soft kiss on her palm. “I was scared that I would never have the privilege of holding your hand again,” he looked into her eyes, “because yours is the only hand I want to hold for the rest of my life.”

He kissed her lips and looked into her eyes before adding “I spent all day thinking about kissing you. When you kissed me today I thought it was because you wanted to, but then you said you saw Ygritte and destroyed my hopes.”

She gave him a sincere smile and confessed “I kissed you because I wanted to kiss you. Ygritte was just an excuse. And I wouldn’t have made any kind of opposition if you had kissed me other times.”

“I will remember that every time I want to kiss you.” he said and gave her a mischievous smile.

“You have no idea what that smile of yours does to me.” she confided, pulling him closer to her so she could kiss him.

“If it has just one percent of the effect yours has on me, then I have an idea.” he confessed against her lips.

He kissed her and her hands plunged into his hair. Dany pressed herself against him and Jon moaned into her mouth. She laughed and he looked her in the eyes before saying “Don’t start something we can’t finish.”

She gave him a mischievous smile. “And who said I don’t intend to finish?”

He looked her in the eyes for a few seconds as if he was assessing her, making sure she was serious.

“You really are serious.”

“I wanted you from the first moment I saw you, Jon. So yes, I am serious.”

The hungry look Jon gave her made her shiver and she kissed him with renewed vigor.

However, her cell phone rang seconds later and she forced herself to separate from Jon. It was Missandei wanting to know where they were.

“They are looking for us.” she said as she hung up. “We better get back before they come looking for us.”

He nodded and said “I need a minute, Dany.” and then he took a step away from her and took a deep breath.

Dany couldn't help but feel proud for leaving Jon in that state. Once he had calmed down enough, she took him by the hand and gave him one last kiss before leading him out of the garden.

The two walked hand in hand, with silly smiles and exchanging passionate looks. Their friends smiled when they saw them together, and that night, as they attended the festival's evening events, Missandei approached her and commented in a whisper, “There's something different about you two.”

Dany smiled and nodded. “We’re really together now.”

Her friend hugged her and said “I’m so happy for you both!”

The presenter on stage introduced the next act and the crowd applauded. Dany smiled as Jon wrapped his arms around her and she felt her skin tingle when he kissed her neck.

“I didn’t know you were so sensitive.” he whispered.

“There are many things you still don’t know about me.”

"I know. And I look forward to discovering every detail of you.”

“We’re in a public place, you know?” she said as he kissed her neck once again.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked in a whisper and there was amusement in his voice.

“No, I don’t want you to stop.” she replied pressing her butt against him and he moaned in her ear.

“Then you better try not to draw attention to us,” he whispered “because I want to enjoy every second of my time with you.”

She tried to focus her attention on the performance on the stage before them, but her mind was completely focused on Jon, how her skin flared up every place her body touched his, how her skin tingle when he kissed her neck, and in everything she would do to him when they were finally alone.

---

Jon gave her a chaste kiss goodbye when they returned to the hotel, but Dany wasn't ready to end the night just yet. They had been teasing each other all night and, feeling her body on fire, she knew neither of them would be able to sleep easily.

She stood on tiptoe and asked in a whisper so only he could hear her, “Meet me in my room in half an hour?” he looked at her in surprise and she added “I want to finish what we started in that garden.”

He gave her a hungry look and nodded. The two separated in the elevator, as Dany's room was two floors above his.

That half hour was the longest in Dany's entire life. She showered, combed her hair and looked at how much time had passed more times than she realized. She spent a few minutes trying to decide what to wear until she realized that whatever she wore wouldn't stay on her body much longer, so she ended up just wearing her bathrobe and checking the time on her phone once again.

After eight minutes that felt like eight hours, three light knocks on the door alerted her that Jon had arrived. She went to the door, took a deep breath and opened it. He gave her a wide smile when he saw her and she let him inside. As soon as she closed the door, Jon pressed her against it and kissed her. Her hands wrapped around his neck and she pulled him closer to her, intensifying the kiss.

“Dany.” he said almost breathlessly against her lips. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“I think I've made my intentions clear, but yes, I’m.” she replied also breathlessly and looked him in the eyes “And you?”

“I can’t think of anything I want more than to be with you.” he replied.

“Glad we’re on the same page.” she said with a smile.

Jon picked her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. When he placed her on the floor next to the bed, she helped him undress and couldn't help but admire every bit of his skin. Jon tugged at the sash tie keeping her robe closed and she let it fall behind her. Jon's eyes roamed her naked body for a few seconds and then he looked at her with hungry eyes that made her body flare up, her walls contract and more moisture pool between her legs.

“You are even more beautiful than I imagined, Dany.” he commented and she couldn't help but smile “I love your smile so much.” he said before kissing her until she lost her breath once again.

He took her to the bed and helped her lie down. He looked at her lying there and a shiver ran through her body as he said in a voice hoarse with desire “You have no idea how much I want you.”

Oh, but she could see between his legs how much he wanted her and she reached out her hand, inviting him to join her. He didn't hesitate to accept her invitation and kissed her as if she would disappear if he wasn't touching her.

His lips left hers to wander down her neck, down her collarbone until he reached her breasts, where he focused his attention, making fire build up more and more in her abdomen, and only after making both nipples hard did he begin to move down her belly, leaving a trail of fire with his lips. Once settled between her legs, Jon pressed his thumb over her clit and made delicate circular movements while watching her reaction closely. She moaned his name as his lips joined his fingers.

“Dany, you look amazing like this.”

“Please don’t stop.” she begged.

“I have no intention of stopping. I want to feel you cum on my tongue, sweetheart.” he said and his lips returned to her cunt.

Her hands found his hair and Dany moaned and closed her eyes, intoxicated by the sensations caused by his touch. With each movement of his fingers, with each lick of his tongue, her pleasure increased and increased until she reached her climax. Jon continued to lick her as her walls contracted around his long fingers and she was swept away by wave after wave of pleasure.

As she caught her breath, Dany couldn't help but comment, “I think now I understand why Ygritte doesn't want to give up on you, Jon Snow.”

“She has no other option. My heart belongs to someone else now.” he said while kissing her belly. He gave her a mischievous smile and commented, “I may not be as experienced as some other men claim to be, but I strive to make the experience good for both of us.”

She laughed upon hearing his reference to Daario's comment and said “I wouldn't trade one boy like you for a thousand men like him.”

Jon gave her a smug smile and kissed her neck and lips before reaching for the condom on the bedside table.

“Let me help you with that.” she asked and Jon handed it to her.

Jon lay down and Dany straddled his thighs before focusing on the task in front of her . Carefully, she stroked his cock a few times from base to tip, making Jon moan. She laughed softly and he watched her as she slid the condom over his member. Dany couldn't help but think about how she wanted to feel it in her mouth before the night was over, but right now she wanted to feel him inside her.

She positioned herself so that she could run his cock across her wet folds and they both moaned at the contact. She placed the tip at her entrance and looked him in the eyes as she lowered her body and it slid into her.

They both lay still for a few seconds while she adjusted. She placed her hand on his cheek and brushed his hair away from his face.

“I think we were made for each other, Dany.” he whispered with a sweet smile and looking into her eyes.

She smiled and nodded “Yes, we are perfect together.”

Dany began to move her hips slowly. His hands rested on her hips and hers rested on his chest as she rode him.

Together they found a rhythm and one of his hands went up her abdomen and started playing with her breasts and the other found her clitoris and started massaging it. It didn't take long for the wave of pleasure to hit her and Jon took control and in the next second, he reversed their positions.

Her hands wrapped around his neck and Jon continued to plunge into her as her walls contracted and massaged his cock. It didn't take long for him to cum as he moaned her name.

After getting rid of the condom, he joined her on the bed. He hugged her, placed soft kisses on her hair and face as they caught their breaths and she heard his heart return to its normal rhythm.

She looked him in the eye and asked “Can you stay the night?”

He smiled and nodded “There’s no other place I’d rather be.”

---

The next morning, the two were woken up by Jon's cell phone.

They had only fallen asleep when exhaustion had taken over, as they had spent a good part of the night exploring each other's bodies and testing the resistance and stability of some furniture without caring whether or not they would get sleepy during the activities planned for the following day.

“Arya? Did something happen?” he asked in a hoarse voice. “Oh, I'm not in my room.” he said and after a few seconds added “See you at breakfast.”

He hung up and looked at her before saying “Arya went looking for me in my room and, as I didn't answer the door, she got worried and called me. I think she suspects where I am and who I am with.”

“Did she know we were just pretending before?”

“Yes, but I haven't had the chance to tell her that we're really together now.”

Dany smiled “Well, at some point she and the others were going to find out.”

They had a long day ahead of them and before they started something they didn't have time to finish, Jon left her to go change and Dany, as soon as she finished getting ready, went down to his floor to meet him. As soon as the elevator doors opened, she came face to face with Daario kissing a woman in the hallway. Dany had completely forgotten that the reservation she had made for her brother was on that floor.

Before she could get out of the elevator, Jon's room door opened and he walked out and that was what made Daario and the girl separate. Daario and Jon looked at each other and, of course, recognized each other. Jon gave him a satisfied smile before starting to walk to the elevator that Dany was preventing from leaving without him. It was only then that Daario realized she was there.

He took a step away from the girl, who looked at him with confusion, and Dany said “I'm glad you accepted our breakup and decided to move on, Daario.”

“Princess, it’s not what you think. She doesn't mean anything!” he said and the girl looked at him indignantly.

“Please don’t interrupt your plans, Daario.” she asked “I just came to pick up my boyfriend.”

Jon took her in his arms and kissed her as soon as he got into the elevator and said “Good morning again , sweetheart .”

She smiled and all of Dany's attention turned to the man in her arms. When the elevator door closed she had completely forgotten what she had just seen in the hallway .

---

The last day of the festival had been set aside to visit some wineries in the region and when she showed up for breakfast hand in hand with Jon, their friends were already having breakfast and wondering why they were both so late .

The winery tour was better than she had expected and she thought that was due to the fact that Jon was by her side and that they took advantage of any opportunity to exchange kisses and caresses. Although she didn't want the day to end soon, they had to go back to the hotel to prepare for the last night of the festival.

After finishing dressing, Daenerys looked in the mirror for a few seconds. When she had bought that dress weeks ago, she had just wanted to feel better about herself and hadn't imagined that she would wear it to impress her fake boyfriend turned new boyfriend. The violet tone of the dress was the same as her eyes and highlighted them. She tied her hair into a simple braid, but added some flowers she had picked on the way to the hotel.

She was nervous when she got out of the elevator minutes later and saw Jon before he saw her. He was dressed in black from head to toe and when he turned to her, Dany was breathless at his beauty.

“You look stunning, Dany.” Jon said and kissed her.

She smiled and said “You too.”

“Thank you.” he said and looked at himself before commenting “People say black is my color.”

And indeed it was. The color highlighted the paleness of his skin, the dark gray of his eyes, the dark brown of his hair and the pink of his lips.

After joining their friends, they set off, and along the way, Dany discovered that only she and Jon had yet to make their wishes at the fountain in the labyrinth.

There was a labyrinth behind the castle and people believed it symbolized the path to the gods. Local legend said that if you managed to reach the center of the labyrinth when the full moon was shining in the sky, the harvest gods would grant you your wish until the next harvest.

She explained the tradition to him and, once they arrived at the festival, Dany took Jon there. As it was the last night of the festival, most tourists had already visited the labyrinth, and when she and Jon entered it, there were few people. The two looked for the center together and, when they found it, the full moon was reflected in the dark waters of the fountain.

Dany had already made her wish during her first visit to that labyrinth last year, and instead of making another one, she closed her eyes and thanked the gods that her wish had been granted. Jon watched her with a tender smile when she opened her eyes.

“Aren’t you going to make a wish?”

He shook his head. “No, I already have everything I want.” he replied and gave her a smile before adding “I hope yours comes true.”

“It has already come true. And they gave me much more than I asked for.” she said and gave him a tender smile. Dany placed a hand on his face and caressed his cheek before adding “I made my wish last year and it came true the night I met you.”

Last year Dany had wished to find someone who loved her for who she was. Someone who was her friend and made her smile. Someone who didn't make her feel alone. Someone who made her feel complete. Someone whose presence was reason enough to make her day, her life, seem lighter.

That wish had come true in Jon Snow. And the gods gave her much more than she asked for. She had found in him a friend, a confidant and a protector. She had found in him a partner and a lover. She found in him everything she wanted and what she didn't even know she needed . Next to Jon Snow she felt like she had found her home.

She had asked the gods for one love and they gave her the love.

He kissed her palm before saying “On second thought, I have a wish to make. But not to the gods, to you.”

She gave him a quizzical look. “What is it?”

Jon held her hand and looked into her eyes before asking “I wish you to be my girlfriend, Daenerys Targaryen. Will you make my wish come true?”

In response, she stood on tiptoe and kissed him.

“Is that a yes?” he asked against her lips.

“Yes.”

His eyes shone like the moon above them and when he took her in his arms and kissed her passionately, Dany couldn't help but think how happy the gods must be watching that scene, seeing the love that they had helped to sow blossom.

[joz-yyh]

Acta Est Fabula - Ch. 5

SUMMARY: Crimson Court AU. Tardif reports back to the Order to protect the one he holds dear. It goes just as horribly as he expected. No Beta. Read at your own risk.

PAIRING: Bounty Hunter x Flagellant / Crusader x Highwayman / Vestal x Hellion

RATING: M (violence / swearing)

WORD COUNT: 2,857  

READ ON Ao3: -> HERE!!

A/N: Lots of characters introduced in this chapter as well as some lore! There's a reason behind every action and mysteries will be revealed in time. Comments and questions welcome~

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Tardif ascends the marble church steps with a burdensome trudge, the sentries waiting up ahead a familiar pair.

Missandei whistles at his arrival, surprised to see him, “Well, look who it is! We were starting to take bets on whether or not you were dead.”

“Feared the worst had happened,” William concurs, talking with his hands, drawing an invisible arch, “The great Nighthawk finally meets his match, slain at the top of his prime.”

“Teh, ye guys wish,” Tardif badgers, setting the rumors straight, “Ain't no one alive who can beat me.”

“Told you, man,” the female sharpshooter smirks, making a grabby motion with her glove, waiting for the other to pay up.

“Taking money straight outta the dog's mouth, you are,” William sighs, sticking out his lower lip, rummaging through his gear.

The houndmaster finally digs out a small coin purse, but is hesitant, looking down at his canine companion in morose consignment.

“Yeah right,” the arbalest growls, snatching up her winnings, “you know how many scraps I sneak Fergus from under the table? She’s getting fed plenty.”

“Explains why I've had to adjust her harness,” the houndmaster muses, rubbing his chin whiskers in assessment.

With a swivel of her floppy ears, the armor clad pet gives a guilty whimper.

“Serves ye right,” Tardif says, brushing the blonde man's shoulder in a mock punch, “Shoulda never bet against me.”

He takes a step back, eyeing the vanguards expectantly.

“Why do they got you two out here guardin’ the door fer, anyway? Thought ye guys would have better things to do.”

“I definitely do,” Missy adds before jabbing her thumb at the other, “don't know about kibbles and bits over here, though.”

William sighs, his posture a perpetual slump from moping too much, “Enough of your horrible dog puns.”

“But they're so good! Fergus loves my dog puns.”

The shaggy wolfdog barks in reply, making the pony-tailed girl grin.

“Told you!”

“Ignore her,” mumbles William, “I know I do.”

“Hey!”

The brute does just that, blocking out her bravado of puffed cheeks and sore green eyes.

“Ye were sayin’?”

“Right. Guess, the powers that be sent out a battalion while ye were gone. We're just filling in.”

“Hn,” Tardif muses, “Wonder what fer?”

“They didn't say,” the houndmaster drawls, crossing his arms in thought, “Not high enough on the ladder, apparently, strictly ‘need to know,’ but I could find out for you, for a price.

“Tryin’ to earn yer gamblin’ debt back, I see.”

“Any way I can.”

“Nice catchin’ up with ye,” Tardif says, patting them both on the shoulder, stepping past their vigil and into the great hall, “but I should get goin’. They’re expectin’ me.”

“You too,” the arbalest smiles, “good luck in there.”

“I'll be here if you change your mind,” William shrugs, mourning his empty pockets.

Tardif takes a deep breath as he enters the long corridor, ignoring the whispers and stares of those lining it, eyes focused solely ahead. It’s a wearisome walk, one of prejudice and judgment that makes him miss the company of his friends.

Lowly hunters like himself were not as well-received as those who were considered of higher rank. A ass-backwards shame considering others of his caliber had the most to lose, doing the dirty work none of the “purer” folk wanted to sully their hands with.

Another series of guards impede his path, blocking his access to the throne room, a poignant caduceus of axes that nearly clip his nose.

“Halt!”

“You must wait to be announced.”

Tardif swallows down the urge to argue that useless code of conduct. There were far too many stupid rules for his liking.

“Send him in,” Reynauld commands, standing from the dias further inside, “He's late.”

The guards remove their barrier, but sneer at Tardif, thinking him too irreverent for an audience with the knight superior, but Tardif returns their malice, leering right back as he traverses beyond their jurisdiction.

Reynauld seems too preoccupied with the scroll in his hands to pay him any mind, the length of it unfurled around his feet, trailing longer than his cape.

The church of Hamlet was governed by joint authority, Reynauld the decisive hammer of fire and action while Junia had a reputation for healing, a passive, merciful ruler that cherished goodness and virtue.

Tardif strides up to the set of twin thrones, kneeling before them to submit his findings.

“Hunter Darkwing reporting back from codename Rapture.”

“‘bout time,” Dismas barks from the shadows, leaning against one of the long red drapes, “Didn't think it would take ya four whole days, but then again, I was betting on the other guy.”

Of course the crusader’s personal body guard would criticize his work. He and Tardif never did get along, always at each other's throats, this undoubtedly causing more strife.

“That'll do Dismas,” Reynauld advises, looking up from his correspondence, tone gentle despite the scallywag who it’s reserved for.

“Teh, if you say so boss,” he growls, crossing his arms, staring out the window into obscurity.

“Well, I never had a doubt,” Boudica retorts, side-eyeing the ex highwayman, standing proudly with her glaive.

The brute can't help smirking in return, knowing at least the reformed hellion was rooting for him.

“Tardif, how nice to see you again,” the vestal smiles, awash in robes of white gold, the ever present warrior woman by her side.

Just as Reynauld has his right hand man, so too does the vestal have her honor guard, each their own inseparable match.

“I take it the threat has been neutralized,” the knight ventures, skipping past the pleasantries, eager to finish this unsavory business.

“More than that,” Tardif answers.

That earns him the holy crusader's undivided attention. “More? How can it be more? Explain.”

“Got a good reason fer takin’ as long as I did. Not only is the target neutralized, I dispatched the baron along with him.”

The room goes silent, Reynauld stiff as always, Tardif unable to discern his reaction from the narrow gaps in his helmet.

Junia and Boudica waver between shocked and impressed and Dismas is well … Dismas.

Tight-lipped as they are, waiting for the knight to share his verdict, the prodigal messenger instigates it.

“C'mon, don't leave me hangin’ in suspense. Tell me yer impressed.”

“He gotta be shittin’ me with this guy,” Dismas scoffs to himself, trying to hide his laugh of pity, “What an idiot.”

Junia's halo of Light glows brightly, reprehensible of such foul language, but it seems to have the opposite effect on Reynauld, the crusader reconciled for the moment.

"Taking down the entire brood is beyond you, Tardif,” the knight finally speaks, as if preaching to a child, “It does not fall to one man, but to all of us.”

“Didn’t ye hear wot I said,” the huntsman snaps, resentful of Reynauld’s lackluster reception, ”I killed the baron.”

“Yes,” the knight begins, throwing his precious scroll upon the ground, stepping up to the pretentious upstart with self-righteous fury, “I heard you defied orders, took authority beyond your rank and you’re being entirely smug about it, feeling entitled to our praise.”

Despite the knight superior standing before him now, garbed in all his shining, mantled glory, Tardif does not feel the distinction of status, addressing him as he would any other man.

“Who cares ‘bout all that,” the brute argues, doubling down, “I just took out the guy no one else could. Hell, ye should send me out again. Betcha I could slay every last one of ‘em wit’ an arm tied behind my back.”

The knight takes a moment to steel himself, gauntlets gripped into fists, pacifying his enraged tone. “Tardif, while I admit you are an exceptional warrior, you are also arrogant, insubordinate. You fail to grasp what is not your place to decide.”

Tardif can hardly stand the hypocrisy.

“Wot diplomacy is there in killin’ beings already deemed unfit to exist?”

The caped crusader does not entertain this, ignoring his underlings' words, a segway for his own victimized tangent.

“I knew it was a risk choosing you for this task,” the knight laments, bowing his head, “A grave disappointment I now regret. And though it pains me to do so, you’re hereby relieved of your hunter status.”

“Like hell I am,” Tardif barks, done with this charade, turning his back on the injustice, intent on storming out.

A steadfast grip reigns him in by the arm, the apprehender none other than the long-haired wild cat Boudica.

“Do not resist,” the warrior woman advises, a tinge of sympathy in her voice, “you know I have to bring you in.”

“Listen to the lady,” mocks Dismas, striding up to his left, enjoying his fall from grace a bit too much, “wouldn’t want to see ya get hurt.”

“Don't worry,” Tardif smirks, “I won't.”

In another horribly brash decision, the brutish delinquent suckerpunches the scarf-wearing bandit, an elbow jab delivered swiftly between the eyes.

The rebellious Tardif is feeling rather proud of himself, much better once he sees Dismas stagger backwards, blood pouring down from his crooked nostrils.

“Makin’ yer little lap dog do everythin’ fer ye as usual I see,” the axeman taunts, an insult aimed at Reynauld, but he stares at his dark-haired lackey, the injured man snarling, his scarf hanging around his neck to reveal his gruesome face scars.

The ex-highwayman wipes his lip, red droplets speckling the stone floor, drawing his firearm in retaliation, shoving the barrel against Tardif's back. “Go on. Say it again. I dare ya. ”

“Insolent savage,” Reynauld roars, demanding obedience from his flock, “can I teach you nothing of humility?”

“Oh, there is one thing I’ve learned,” Tardif intones, raising a middle finger, “Fuck ye!”

“Tardif, please,” Junia begs, breaking her silence, unable to watch this descent into madness any longer.

“My lady,” the persecuted hunter beseeches, “is this how I am to be repaid for all my years of devoted service? Being stripped and unmade? How many times must I lie naked before ye?”

Junia had been like a mother to him, as much as she could be before being coerced into the tireless position she wields now. A part of her will always see Tardif as a frightened little orphan boy, will seek to protect him above all else, hoping to one day absolve her own sins.

“Reynauld … ,” Junia councils, turning to face her fellow bishop, a chord struck within her, “is this punishment not too harsh? Surely, there must be another way.”

“You are too soft on him,” Reynauld decrees, knowing what angle his disciple was playing, “Let us see how he behaves after a few fastidious nights in prison. Perhaps, if he is remorseful of his actions, I will reinstate his title. Until then, get him out of my sight.”

—-

Dismas shoves Tardif forward, leading him down the stairs, further into the dungeon below.

He’s still sporting his pistol, poking it against the captive’s spine every chance he gets, Boudica’s escort trailing behind them, bottle-necked in such a tight space.

They’re underground, the seedy basement just as historic as the church itself, the old layout left unrenovated since it was built, but then again a prison didn’t have to be inviting. Tardif had visited this place a few times in the past, almost desensitized to it's eeriness.

“That's far enough,” the ex-bandit calls, halting their progress just shy of the empty cell, “Boudica, strip him down.”

Once more, the redhead gives her comrade an emphatic look, the brute raising his arms up in surrender as she moves to relieve him of his weapons.

His belts are unclasped one by one, feeling less like a man and more like a thing, a tool robbed of it’s usefulness, a blade dulled and discarded. The hellion hefts his possessions around her shoulder, hooking his weapons onto her own series of straps while he endures this demeaning penalty.

“That should be everything,” the refurbished warrior announces, taking a step back, dressed to the hilt in his gear, signaling her task complete.

Dismas moves to inspect her work, noticing she's missed one item in particular.

“Forgot this,” Dismas says, ripping off the brute’s scouter.

“That stays wit’ me,” Tardif says, eyes forthright and stern, schooling his tone.

“You growin’ attached to the bloodsuckers or somethin’,” Dismas snickers, raising a brow, dangling the parasite's cage around by the clip, “wouldn’t that be the scandal of the century.”

“Don’t like people takin’ wot’s mine,” Tardif growls, putting on his best poker face. If they take Pierre from him now, the highwayman would probably squash him out of existence or worse.

“Teh, s'pose you two can keep 'nother company,” the ex-highwayman says, tossing the tiny creature at him, “Fine, take it. Don’t say I never gave ya nottin’.”

Tardif catches it, clutching the cage tight to his chest, masking his relief as Dismas shoves the brute inside his cozy new home. The gunslinger means to trip him, but the braided man is too big and his balance too practiced. At most Tardif stumbles, keeping his footing.

“Always knew you were destined for a grimy prison cell,” Dismas smirks, eagerly latching the door closed, locking it with a clatter.

“Always knew yer were destined to take it in the ass,” Tardif parries, face a vindictive glower.

Dismas is understandably incensed by the accusation, snarling as he aims his gun, intending to blow the lips right off his wise-cracking tongue.

“Enough,” Boudica shouts, knocking his gun away with her glaive, the firearm discharging against the bars. The bullet ricochets, missing it’s mark and Tardif silently thanks the Light for the hellion’s quick-thinking reflexes.

She leers at Dismas, anger notched across her nose, hurling a harsh reprimand, “He is our comrade at arms. He deserves some respect.”

“Ain't no more, remember,” the bandit sneers, tearing away from their confrontation to retrieve his pistol from the floor. He curses when he spots a nick in the metal casing, an imperfection caused by her meddling, one he’ll have to grind down if there’s any chance of buffing it out.

“That has yet to be seen,” Boudica says, watching the trigger happy hostile carefully.

Dust filters into the air, the side-shaven bandit following the trail of smoke to track where the pellet struck mortar and stone, prying at the hole with his finger.

“If you ask me,” he drawls, rife with ire, blowing against the debris, “He should rot in here. Better yet if we watch him hang.”

“Only if ye join me there,” Tardif quips.

“You wish.” The gunslinger laughs, twirling his pistol around before holstering it, “Maybe that lil’ bloodsucker there will do us all a favor and drink ya in your sleep.”

He spits at ground near the cell, taking his leave, whistling a funeral march, a trait usually customary of the knight superior.

With him gone the hellion can finally relax, her outward visage finally giving way, allowing her true self to shine.

She strides up to the thick-headed ex-hunter, scolding him through the palisade.

“What were you thinking,” Boudica urges, a grimace upon her face, wrinkling the war paint on her eyes, “You knew your actions would displease Reynauld.”

As much as Tardif trusts the hellion with his life, he cannot burden her with the truth.

“I was thinkin’, ‘ey, if I wipe out all the monsters, then we get a much needed vacation.’”

Her expression eases into a frustrated sigh, shaking her head of dreadlocks, “You are brave, *Kló (Talon), like myself. I admire that, but also very *þrár (stubborn).”

“I’ll take it as a compliment.”

“I would expect no less,” Boudica says, her blue eyes serious despite the more light-hearted tone, “I will speak with lady Junia, see what I can do for you. Until then, keep your head down.”

Her words are reminiscent of the shrewd disciplinary lessons Junia would often instill in him, but Boudica had the fierce wild heart to back it up.

“Can't cause much trouble from in here,” the axeman shrugs, looking around the lame accommodations. Bits of straw are scattered about the cell, iron manacles nailed to the wall, a questionably stained bucket positioned in the corner. Well, at least there was a bed, though it wasn’t much more than a weathered slab of wood suspended by chain.

Her dark lips curl into a smirk, recognizing Tardif as the resourceful kind, an underdog never to be outwitted for long.

“Sure you could. I know you.”

“Heh heh, yer right.”

The well-meaning hellion reaches her painted hand through the bars, offering assurances, “Be strong my friend. I will visit again when I can.”

He accepts the gesture, their palms sealing together tightly, making a vow of his own.

“Ye better, else I'll hunt ye down myself.”

A flex of muscle is shared between them, his and then hers, their arms swelling with combined effort.

“If it ever comes to that, I will meet you head on,” she nods, shaking on it before letting go.

The two friends part ways, Tardif watching as her tabard disappears behind a wall of pewter, headed back the same way she came.

[samieree]

Born in Flames || Game of Thrones

OC x ?😏

-> Chapter XIII "Yunkai"

Chapter XIV ''Second Sons''

She changed into clean clothes especially for the meeting, not covered in all that sand. It was a white dress that exposed her shoulders and cleavage. Nothing special, the cut was simple, the material was uniform, but the dress benefited from a silver chain fastened at the waist and finally loose hair that fell in waves on her shoulders and back.

Long before she saw her guest, she heard the drumbeats announcing his arrival. Of course, he arrived under a roof, in a litter, after all, he would not expose his skin to the harsh sun like his slaves who carried the litter, beat the drum or carried some chests.

She looked away from it for a moment to look at Maelia, lying in her lap - although by the way she was slowly getting heavy, like the rest of the dragons. Drogon was sitting on the back of the couch next to Viserion, and Rhaegal was also nearby. She turned her gaze back to her guest as Missandei began to introduce him, but she continued to lightly pet Viserion.

"This is the noble Razdal mo Eraz, descendant of an ancient family. A ruler and parliamentarian who brings peace." the presented master wanted to get a little too close and then one of the dragons roared at him. "My Lord, you stand before Visenya of House Targaryen, rightful heir to the Iron Throne, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, and Breaker of Chains, Queen of Astapor."

She didn't know when exactly she obtained her last titles, because she had never declared herself the Queen of Astapor or the Breaker of Chains, but if that was how she was presented, then so be it.

"You may approach. Please, sit." she said, pointing to a chair placed at an appropriate distance from her.

"Would you like some wine, my Lord?" when he agreed, Missandei poured wine into a goblet and handed it to him. He drank some of it and set the chalice aside, at the leg of the chair.

"Yunkai is glorious and ancient." he started. "Our Empire was already old when dragons appeared in Valyria. Many armies crashed against our walls, many rulers were defeated. You won't find easy conquest here."

"The end justifies the means, doesn't it?" she replied, although she didn't think so.

"If you want a battle, you will get a battle. But why? The informations of what happened in Astapor has already spread, but the Yunkai people are not vengeful, but forgiving and generous." she raised an eyebrow slightly, watching the man clap his hands and the slaves carried two crates under the tent. "The Wise Lords of Yunkai have a gift for the Mother of Dragons." and when did I gain this title?

After opening the chests, the slaves withdrew and she looked around at the gold inside. Moreover, the chests themselves were probably quite expensive, decorated with a lot of mother-of-pearl.

"There are many more chests waiting on board your ship."

"My ship?" she repeated, a delicate smile creeping onto her lips.

"Yes, Your Grace. As I said, we are a generous people. We will give you as many ships as you need."

They give her gold, ships... She could go home now. As far as she knows, there is still a war in Westeros, the troops of the Lords of the Seven Kingdoms must be tired of the long conflict. If she came back now, she might even have a chance...

But could she really make that decision? Especially since she had just seen more slaves before her eyes, exhausted, exploited, degraded.

"What do you want in return?" she asked, even though she was already determined that she couldn't give up on Yunkai.

"Only one thing: That you make good use of our gifts. Sail back to Westeros, where you belong and where is your throne. And never interfere with Yunkai affairs again."

On the one hand, she could do it. She could accept the offer now, capture King's Landing, and then return here with - perhaps - greater forces. But would such a plan even have a chance of success? If she managed to capture the capital, she would definitely lose a lot of soldiers and ships. Besides, she would have to hold it and subjugate the Lords of Westeros, she couldn't assume that everyone would submit to her without a word. And eventually she would never come back.

The conclusion was obvious: She couldn't agree.

"I could accept that offer." she said, but after a while she continued. "Provided that you free all the slaves, pay them for their years of work, and never put anyone in chains again."

"Are you mad?"

"If you and the Wise Lords fulfill this condition, you will save your lives. Otherwise... The yellow walls of Yunkai will turn red."

"You're confusing Astapor with Yunkai." she raised an eyebrow, listening to his words. "We have powerful friends who will take great pleasure in destroying you. We will turn those who survive into slaves again. Maybe we'll put you in chains too!" he almost shouted, getting up from the chair.

His eagerness quickly cooled and turned to fear when Maelia, who had been lying peacefully on Visenya's lap all this time, suddenly stood up and bared her fangs at him. Even Vis herself was a bit surprised by this, although she didn't show it.

"You promised safety during the talks." he noticed. He tried to act unfazed, but the fear was clear in his eyes.

"Yes, I did." she admitted, placing her hand on the dragon's back, calming it down. "And you started threatening me. Threaten the Mother of Dragons in the presence of her dragons..." she smiled slightly, almost laughing at his - as she perceived it - stupidity.

"Take the gold." he ordered his people.

The slaves moved to take the chests, but when Maelia escaped from Visenya's grasp on one of them and Drogon jumped on the other, in fear they moved even further away than they had been standing before.

"The gold is mine. You gave it to me, and you don't take gifts away, do you? I will use it well, just as you wished. And you pass on my words to other Wise Masters, and you better think about them carefully. You may leave." she finished talking to him, turning around and extending her hand to Rhaegal, who was now sitting on the couch backrest, and he eagerly immediately jumped onto pillow next to her, hugging to her like a child hugs to its mother. She didn't pay attention to what Razdal was mumbling under his breath as he left the tent.

"The Yunkai are a proud people. They will not bow to threats." she looked up at Ser Barristan as he spoke these words.

"So they will bow to the swords." she replied. She hesitated for a moment before asking the question that was on her mind. "He said they have powerful friends... Who did he mean?"

Barristan and Arthur looked at each other.

"We don't know, Your Grace."

"Then find out."

A few days later, she found out who it was - or at least one of those famous "friends". They were mercenaries, Second Sons. She even saw their camp from a distance, in disguise of course, but still. Of course, mercenaries cannot be trusted, they fight for gold, they don't care about honor.

There were two thousand of them, heavy cavalry. Enough to endanger her. Then she began to consider another option, perhaps returning to the method of solving the matter using what nature had given her - beauty. From what she has noticed, men in Essos are not much different, and maybe even more pushy towards women and less respectful.

And if they had such an attitude, she was sure that the commander of the Second Sons would agree to come and talk to her.

And she was right.

"Your Grace, allow me to present the captains of the Second Sons: Mero of Braavos, Prendahl of Ghezn, and..." Ser Barristan trailed off, the last of the three had to introduce himself.

"Daario Naharis." said the man - quite young for a captain - and simply lowered his head, bowing to her. There was a gentle smile on his lips, perhaps even flirtatious.

She dressed similarly to the meeting with Razdal, except this time her hair was tied up in a bun, leaving her neck exposed, and only two thin strands of hair framed the sides of her face. A single, long necklace flowed down her neckline and ended between her breasts, accenting them.

"Beauty can easily confuse men. You, for example, you are beautiful." That's what Cersei Lannister once told her. And no matter how much they disliked each other, she believed that Cersei was right with that statement.

"You are the Mother of Dragons? The Silver-Haired Queen?" Mero asked, taking two steps forward. "I could have sworn I fucked you once in a pleasure house in Lys. But maybe I'm mistaken because of the hair..."

"Mind your tongue." even though she agreed with Ser Arthur's words, she didn't say it, she just smiled a little goofily, but it looked good.

She could fake it in front of Jaime, so she should be able to fake it now.

"Why?" Mero replied, walking over and sitting on the couch next to her. "I didn't mind hers. She licked my ass like she was born to do it."

It took a lot for her not to punch him in the face when he sat down next to her. She had to put just as much effort into keeping a smile on her face, even if he was ostentatiously staring at her breasts while making ambiguous tongue movements.

"Bring us the wine, slave." he said to Missandei as his friends also sat in the tent.

"She's not a slave. No one is here, we are all free." she finally said something, nodding to her friend to pour them some wine.

"But you won't be after the battle, unless I save you." oh, how noble of you... "If you sit on my lap and move those hips, maybe I'll give you the Second Sons."

Excuse me?

"Give them to me first." she said, reaching for her goblet standing on the low table next to her. "Then maybe I won't have your hand and tongue cut off." she added, sipping some wine and giving him the look she once was giving Jaime. "Ser Barristan, how many men he has?" she put the goblet back on the table so as not to 'accidentally' splash the wine in Mero's face.

"About two thousand, Your Grace."

"I think I have more... How many?" she asked to add to her image of a stupid girl in their eyes.

"Ten thousand, Your Grace."

"That's five times more." she said, and her smile widened for a moment. "I don't know anything about war or battles, I'm no commander, but I can do a little math. Could you, as someone more experienced in this field, explain to me how you plan to defeat me?"

"I hope the old man fights better than he lies." Daario said unexpectedly, catching her attention. "I counted eight thousand Unsullied, and that's how many you have, Your Grace."

"You must be a good warrior to become a captain at such a young age." she answered him, tilting her head slightly.

"He's not a captain, but a lieutenant." Prendahl spoke for the first time in this conversation.

"Eight thousand is still more than two, isn't it? The numbers are on my side."

"The Second Sons have fought many worse battles and won." Mero didn't lose his confidence.

"They also have fought worse battles and run from them." Ser Arthur pointed out. Visenya still smiled while she shortly looked at him, but it was slightly amused gaze, not falsely kind.

She's really like her father - he thought to himself.

"Wouldn't you rather fight for me?" she asked, reaching out to take Mero's mug of wine and drink from it, then extending it back to him.

"We took the gold from Yunkai, so we fight for Yunkai, beautiful girl." he took the cup from her, keeping his fingers on her hand a bit too long for her liking.

Then he held out his hand to Missandei to pour him some wine, but as soon as she came closer and did so, he leaned over and wanted to smell her crotch through her dress. Visenya was so disgusted by this that no matter what came out of this conversation, this man's fate was already sealed.

"A have a lot of gold too, I can pay you as well."

"We made a contract and we will stick to it. Otherwise, no one will hire the Second Sons again." Prendahl, who seemed least susceptible to her charm, explained.

"You won't have to look for employment anywhere else if you decide to come with me. When I take the throne of Westeros, you will have gold, castles and titles, you will lack nothing in your life. Even women." she added the last words, looking at Mero.

"You have no ships, no siege machines, no cavalry. How are you going to conquer the Seven Kingdoms or even get there?" Daario asked her.

And it was actually a very good question to which she had no answer prepared. To buy ships you need gold, and she doesn't have enough to buy as many ships as she needs. And even if she did, she wouldn't have any gold left for anything else. As for the other two things... There was still a long way to go for that too.

"If you join me, I'll already have a cavalry. And buying the other two is not a problem." she lied. "Just recently, I had neither an army nor gold. No dragons either, and now I have four of them." she turned back to Mero. "Think about it and give me an answer. You have one day."

"You know what..." He straightened up a little and leaned towards her, then placing his hand on her thigh and squeezing it lightly. "Show me your cunt, I have to see if there's anything worth fighting for."

"Dāria, gaomagon jaelā nyke naejot nektogon hen zȳhon ondos?" Grey Worm asked, and her smile widened slightly.

*"My Queen, do you want me to cut off his hand?"*

"Daor, issa ñuha intrōsi tolī mirre..." she stopped for a moment. "Yn lo ziry sylugon ziry arlī, iksā dāez naejot gaomagon sīr." she finished, looking at Mero, without any sweetness in her eyes or smile.

*"No, he's my guest after all... But if he tries to do that again, you have a free hand."*

"Take a jug of my wine, maybe it will clear your mind a little." she added.

"Should I drink alone? What about my brothers?"

"Then take the whole barrel. Drink to your health."

"Perfect." he finally removed his hand from her thigh, rising from the couch, then his friends also got up from their seats. "The Titan's bastard doesn't drink alone." he's more of a bastard than a titan... - she thought to herself, following him with her eyes as they slowly left the tent. "In the Second Sons we share everything, including women. After the battle, we will be happy to share  you."

She almost burst into laughter at these words, but only let out a quiet snort, which was well covered by a smile.

"I'll find you when it's all over." Leaving he said to Missandei and as if it was normal, he slapped her buttocks.

"Ser Arthur..." Visenya began, finally leaning back on the backrest of the couch and crossing her legs. "I don't care if there's a battle or not, I want his head."

She had only spent a few minutes with Mero and she had already grown to hate him. She thought Joffrey was a bad case and he was the one she had problems with because he targeted her for his sick games and she had no one on her side, but this man was just as good as getting on her nerves. He thought of himself as irresistible, who had every woman he wanted... But in reality, only those he paid wanted him.

How dare he touch her like that? How could he shamelessly look at her breasts and try to look closer to see if the neckline of her dress would reveal at least a bit of her breasts? What right did he have to just hit Missandei like that? She never wanted to see him again. She was disgusted by the way she behaved, trying to win something, and in the end she felt that she had gained nothing by showing off her beauty and pretending to be a stupid girl.

"I'll be happy to give it to you, Your Grace." Ser Arthur replied, glancing at how Visenya held her hand where Mero had grabbed her thigh and crumpled the fabric in her hands as if to get rid of any trace of his hand.

He'll actually be glad to cut off his head when the opportunity arises. ~

-> Chapter XV "Mother" -> general masterlist -> Game of Thrones/House of the Dragon masterlist

[euphorial-docx]

Dornish James and Valyrian Dragon Dreamer Regulus officially own my heart 💖 Can you tell us anything about what the backgrounds of some of the other characters look like?

i have some starting point for other characters. their backstories and histories will grow the more i write them, but as of now i’ve only completed 70% of the first chapter that only includes the black family, barty, and pandora.

i can start with barty and pandora.

so barty is a part of a noble family, but he’s never been very… respectable? i guess that’s the right word. the minute he was old enough, he decided to become a soldier for his house and for the black family to avoid politics and his heirship. he’s infamous for being very brutal in battle, and really just in general. he likes to start fights, okay? eventually his skill got him knighted by the black family and became a member of the kingsguard. barty and regulus took a liking to each other very quickly became not totally platonic friends. with barty being a kingsguard, they have an excuse for barty to be around regulus often without any scrutiny.

as for pandora, she is a companion to regulus. she is essentially a lady in waiting, so a high-ranking servant from a noble family. i’m still deciding what family i want her to be a part of. but regulus considers her his closest friend and she really doesn’t have to do that much work— he lets her do whatever she wants, really. she’s pretty much there for a fun time.

kreacher is regulus’s sworn sword, and lord commander of the kingsguard. he’s basically regulus’s bodyguard and essentially a secret keeper for him lmao. poor kreacher knows way too much about regulus’s private life.

evan rosier is also there sometimes, and essentially is a cousin to regulus. he’s the noble rosier family, who rule over the stormlands south of the crownlands (where kings land is, which is where the black family live). evan is a skilled sailor and fighter, although he is set to become the next lord of the stormlands and is happy enough with that future title. he often makes trips up to kings landing to visit regulus. evan rosier’s aunt, druella, married into the black family and, as we know, had bellatrix, andromeda, and narcissa with cygnus black iii.

dorcas is also an important character once she’s introduced. she’s inspired by corlys velaryon. she is heir of driftmark and her family have a very strong naval fleet. she comes from a very fabled seafarer family, and she inherited her parents love for the sea. since she was six, she would take voyages every year with family until she was sixteen and could captain her own ships. she is the captain of a ship called the sea snake. dorcas is very ambitious and wants her family to be remembered, so once she was old enough, she sailed the sea snake through the nine great voyages of essos. she returned with treasures that doubled the wealth of her family that she hoped would make the blacks more inclined to accept a betrothal proposal to sirius, which would make dorcas queen (and her family remembered and respected for life.) the black family initially rejected that, but as i explained, regulus eventually takes her up on that offer once he becomes heir.

marlene also lives in driftmark and is VERY CLOSE with dorcas, if you catch my drift (pun intended.) she is from a minor house of the westerlands. her family is sworn to house lestrange, but marlene trained in driftmark and became knighted when she was of age. she is known to be fiercely loyal, and has also earned herself the nickname “the knight of kisses.”

lily is inspired by mysaria and a little bit by missandei, so forewarning that her background is very sad and could be upsetting. lily was born on the island of naath, but was enslaved at a young age and brought to slavers bay in essos. initially, she was an interpreter for the rich families of astapor, and through that she became polyglottic. she speaks nineteen languages, including high valyrian. eventually, she was bought off of the family she was initially enslaved to and brought to westeros and then worked at a brothel near the ports to help with translating for the customers that didn’t speak the common tongue (which is english to us.) there, she met remus lupin and mary macdonald, and they became a close nit group. lily learned to become very cunning strong-willed, and climbed up the ranks of flea’s bottom (poorest district of kings landing known for its crime.) by the time the fic takes place, lily leads a network of spies and uses what she learns to her advantage. somewhere along the way, lily took an orphan by the name of harry under her wing.

mary is also inspired by mysaria (i like to break characters personalities up, okay?) mary macdonald was born in a brothel of flea bottom, and she was raised there and later became a dancer. mary was very observant, and lily took notice of that. together, they began to utilize all the secrets they had learned and blackmailed money out of that. #girlboss. also her and lily are together because #marylily.

remus was born to a poor family in fleabottom. he worked at the sea ports and hated it, but through working there he met lily and mary. he quickly joined in their network of spies early on, and he was able to provide for his family more through working for/with them. remus eventually decided to live with mary and lily in the gambling den they bought and ran, and opted to send his family the money he earned. at that gambling den, he met sirius, who frequented there. #wolfstar.

sorry if i got lazy near the end, and that i didn’t get to everyone, but there’s just so much to unpack with this story and the Lore.

so much lore…

anyways i hope this was a good enough explanation of a lot of the main characters!

[baelontargaryen]

It wouldn’t of hurt him to put an extra paragraph or two about them in her chapters—or even the odd sentence about them, given that Missandei is introduced after them and across two books he’s able to flesh her out more than he offered the Dothraki.

It’s easy to simply slip in “Irri and Jhiqui loved to race each other in the afternoon, laughing freely under the sun” or “Rakharo had begun to enjoy the sea, and Dany had caught wind of his small journeys on the row boats at the docks” or“Irri had taken to the scrolls with Missandei’s help, while Jhiqui had bought a bow and arrow from the markets, as the days passed her aim had improved with the Unsullied’s help” or idk something in GRRM’s style but mainly that it wouldn’t be that hard for him to just scribble a few down about them every now and again.

And the Bloodriders/Kingsguard parallel was wasted because Daenerys does drop a few comparisons between them early that GRRM seems to have just pushed aside

Every khal had his bloodriders. At first Dany had thought of them as a kind of Dothraki Kingsguard, sworn to protect their lord, but it went further than that. Jhiqui had taught her that a bloodrider was more than a guard; they were the khal’s brothers, his shadows, his fiercest friends. “Blood of my blood,” Drogo called them, and so it was; they shared a single life. — AGOT, Daenerys IV

—

When her son sat the Iron Throne, she would see that he had bloodriders of his own to protect him against treachery in his Kingsguard. — AGOT, Daenerys IV

It genuinely makes me sad to think about the dothraki being so poorly developed. I wish Dany and her bloodriders had an actual bond, they're sworn to her life and death and they're all close in age too. We should've seen them grow close. Irri and Jhiqui should be developed characters by now with personalities and inner-lives. They spend more time with Dany than anyone. The potential for a found-family trope was there all along George! And then the turmoil when Dany finds out she has real family across the sea, waiting for her. The struggle between two families, two cultures that she is connected to. Irri and Jhiqui telling Dany to stay in Essos, she already has a family and people here, and Dany going West in search of her biological family. She has bloodriders but no blood relatives until she learns about Aegon. I don't know, I just feel like grrm wasted the dothraki characters, severely dropped the ball on their world building, and this has hurt Dany's overall story. I wonder if he wanted to her feel lonely to help motivate her move to Westeros but she can feel lonely while still having connections with the characters that spend the most time with her.

[jonroxton]

@scratchybeardsweetmouth​:  uh-huh uh-huh. hahaha yeah the dragons being around her when the kiss happened is something that kinda makes me giggle every time. not a peep from them. as soon as she stood from her bed, she has not made note of them in the chapter, nor has she made note of their reactions during her recalls of the kiss. it may be a shocking and confusing moment for dany, but never a dangerous one.

it’s… insanely subtle and easy to miss! under a cut bc this got long!

after the kiss the feeling dany most experiences is expectancy. she tries not to think of jorah at all except as a commander and how he relates in that regard to her negotiations with kraznys. she tries. and fails completely. in fact the more she tries the harder it is to stop herself and we learn she actually HASN’T stopped thinking about how hot the kiss made her!

1. Keeping cool, stayin cool. I got this:

The gods of Ghis were dead, and so too its people; these Astapori were mongrels, Ser Jorah said. Even the Ghiscari tongue was largely forgotten; the slave cities spoke the High Valyrian of their conquerors, or what they had made of it.

2. Pff I’ve called him my bear before. Still cool. Yeah. Totally cool. Also I guess he’s not handsome but he’s so smart. My bear is so smart.

“They might be adequate to my needs,” Dany answered. It had been Ser Jorah’s suggestion that she speak only Dothraki and the Common Tongue while in Astapor. My bear is more clever than he looks. “Tell me of their training.”

3. I don’t want to think about jorah so i’ll leave him behind with my most priceless possessions, the most important weapons in the entire planet.

The old man had not wanted to sail to Astapor; nor did he favor buying this slave army. A queen should hear all sides before reaching a decision. That was why Dany had brought him with her to the Plaza of Pride, not to keep her safe. Her bloodriders would do that well enough. Ser Jorah Mormont she had left aboard Balerion to guard her people and her dragons. Much against her inclination, she had locked the dragons belowdecks. It was too dangerous to let them fly freely over the city; the world was all too full of men who would gladly kill them for no better reason than to name themselves dragons layer.

4. look at how cool i am this is not word association ok

Ask her if she wishes to view our fighting pits,” Kraznys added. “Douquor’s Pit has a fine folly scheduled for the evening. A bear and three small boys. One boy will be rolled in honey, one in blood, and one in rotting fish, and she may wager on which the bear will eat first.”

Tap tap tap, Dany heard. Arstan Whitebeard’s face was still, but his staff beat out his rage. Tap tap tap. She made herself smile. “I have my own bear on Balerion,” she told the translator, “and he may well eat me if I do not return to him.”

5. arstan lying to dany’s face since he met her: moral relativism is??? stupid?? jorah mormont is a piece of shit??? dany: wow i really never dealt with my sexual trauma i must stop this right now.

“When I leave Astapor it must be with an army, Ser Jorah says.”

“Ser Jorah was a slaver himself, Your Grace,” the old man reminded her. “There are sellswords in Pentos and Myr and Tyrosh you can hire. A man who kills for coin has no honor, but at least they are no slaves. Find your army there, I beg you.”

“My brother visited Pentos, Myr, Braavos, near all the Free Cities. The magisters and archons fed him wine and promises, but his soul was starved to death. A man cannot sup from the beggar’s bowl all his life and stay a man. I had my taste in Qarth, that was enough. I will not come to Pentos bowl in hand.”

“Better to come a beggar than a slaver,” Arstan said.

“There speaks one who has been neither.” Dany’s nostrils flared. “Do you know what it is like to be sold, squire? I do. My brother sold me to Khal Drogo for the promise of a golden crown. Well, Drogo crowned him in gold, though not as he had wished, and I… my sun-and-stars made a queen of me, but if he had been a different man, it might have been much otherwise. Do you think I have forgotten how it felt to be afraid?”

6. BUT WE’RE HERE NOW I GUESS WHAT THE FUCK

He has a good face, and great strength to him, Dany thought. She could not understand why Ser Jorah mistrusted the old man so. Could he be jealous that I have found another man to talk to?Unbidden, her thoughts went back to the night on Balerion when the exile knight had kissed her. He should never have done that. He is thrice my age, and of too low a birth for me, and I never gave him leave. No true knight would ever kiss a queen without her leave. She had taken care never to be alone with Ser Jorah after that, keeping her handmaids with her aboard ship, and sometimes her bloodriders. He wants to kiss me again, I see it in his eyes.

What Dany wanted she could not begin to say, but Jorah’s kiss had woken something in her, something that been sleeping since Khal Drogo died.

jorah’s kiss sounds like a fandom thing, like the unkiss. but yeah no it’s straight up how dany describes it. like it was something given to her, not taken in exchange for something (LIKE HERSELF TO DROGO!)

7. Listen I don’t want Jorah but here’s six to eight paragraphs of me having wet dreams and losing my shit..

The next day, it all seemed a dream. And what did Ser Jorah have to do with it, if anything? 

8. Nada. nope. Ok maybe she’s not cool but eight thousand puppies geesh...

Aggo helped Dany down from her litter. Strong Belwas was seated on a massive piling, eating a great haunch of brown roasted meat. “Dog,” he said happily when he saw Dany. “Good dog in Astapor, little queen. Eat?” He offered it with a greasy grin.

“That is kind of you, Belwas, but no.” Dany had eaten dog in other places, at other times, but just now all she could think of was the Unsullied and their stupid puppies. She swept past the huge eunuch and up the plank onto the deck of Balerion.

9. REALLY DANY? IS THAT ALL YOU’RE THINKING ABOUT? 

Ser Jorah Mormont stood waiting for her. “Your Grace,” he said, bowing his head. “The slavers have come and gone. Three of them, with a dozen scribes and as many slaves to lift and fetch. They crawled over every foot of our holds and made note of all we had.” He walked her aft. “How many men do they have for sale?”

“None.” Was it Mormont she was angry with, or this city with its sullen heat, its stinks and sweats and crumbling bricks? “They sell eunuchs, not men. Eunuchs made of brick, like the rest of Astapor. Shall I buy eight thousand brick eunuchs with dead eyes that never move, who kill suckling babes for the sake of a spiked hat and strangle their own dogs? They don’t even have names. So don’t call them men, ser.”

“Khaleesi,” he said, taken aback by her fury, “the Unsullied are chosen as boys, and trained—”

“I have heard all I care to of their training.” Dany could feel tears welling in her eyes, sudden and unwanted. Her hand flashed up and cracked Ser Jorah hard across the face. It was either that, or cry.

Mormont touched the cheek she’d slapped. “If I have displeased my queen—”

“You have. You’ve displeased me greatly, ser. If you were my true knight, you would never have brought me to this vile sty.” If you were my true knight, you would never have kissed me, or looked at my breasts the way you did, or…

OR WHAT DANY?

OR WHAT? 

10.  NOPE NOT COOL. annnnnd that’s when they come back

“As Your Grace commands. I shall tell Captain Groleo to make ready to sail on the evening tide, for some sty less vile.”

“No,” said Dany. Groleo watched them from the forecastle, and his crew was watching too. Whitebeard, her bloodriders, Jhiqui, every one had stopped what they were doing at the sound of the slap. “I want to sail now, not on the tide, I want to sail far and fast and never look back. But I can’t, can I? There are eight thousand brick eunuchs for sale, and I must find some way to buy them.” And with that she left him, and went below.

Behind the carved wooden door of the captain’s cabin, her dragons were restless. Drogon raised his head and screamed, pale smoke venting from his nostrils, and Viserion flapped at her and tried to perch on her shoulder, as he had when he was smaller. “No,” Dany said, trying to shrug him off gently. “You’re too big for that now, sweetling.” But the dragon coiled his white and gold tail around one arm and dug black claws into the fabric of her sleeve, clinging tightly. Helpless, she sank into Groleo’s great leather chair, giggling.

“They have been wild while you were gone, Khaleesi,” Irri told her. “Viserion clawed splinters from the door, do you see? And Drogon made to escape when the slaver men came to see them. When I grabbed his tail to hold him back, he turned and bit me.” She showed Dany the marks of his teeth on her hand.

“Did any of them try to burn their way free?” That was the thing that frightened Dany the most.

i haven’t completely chewed on this yet tho but THE DRAGONS WERE RESTLESS. jorah’s just agreed to change course again but dany believes completely that she CAN’T BC THERE ARE RULES DAMMIT.

jorah is a knight. she is a queen. dragons are weapons. all serve the purpose: obtaining the iron throne. everything else, wanting anything else, viserys beat it out of her. EVEN WITH DRAGONS SHE DOESN’T THINK SHE CAN HAVE THE THINGS SHE WANTS.

and this is already far too long hope this made sense!

[une-nuit-pour-se-souvenir]

The Dragon has Three Heads

"Three heads of the dragon... yes... but the third will not necessarily BE a Targaryen..."

~ GRRM @ at some convention

The conclusion is simple. The heads of the dragon refer to people and while the two are Targaryens, the third might not be one.

We can ignore anything that says this group of things are of different things (for example, I've seen "two Targaryens plus a concept"), as that makes no narrative sense. The key is exactly that last sentence, the third one may not be a Targaryen, which implies the three heads are all people and that two are Targaryens and the third is not quite one. Therefore, these three dragon heads must refer to people associated with dragon, with two of them being Targaryens but the last one not necessarily being one.

The most popular theory is that the two Targaryens are Danerys Targaryen and Jon Snow, with the third being the youngster that claims to be Aegon VI Targaryen and appears first in ADWD. This identification ignores the narrative framework for both Aegon VI Targareyn and Jon Snow.

On one hand, Aegon is often associated with kingly imagery (for example, the chapter he's introduced starts with six chests, the kid himself is introduced as standing at a higher ground than the rest, and ends with a turtle who is said to witness the birth of kings), he's accompanied by a lot associated with his parents such as Jon Connington (his father's hand of the kind) and some dornish / royne people (his mother's land and culture). Another thing to note is that Varys introduces him as the real thing to a dying man.

Moreover, there is at least one "baby switch" story that shadows this one, a prince baby being switched with a nobody, sent away to protect against a Baratheon. In specific, Mance Rayder's son (the wildling "king") being switched with Gilly's son, then sent South for protection against another Baratheon, which is notably a plan concocted by Jon Snow (another of Rhaegar's kids, as if preparing him and the reader to "believe" such a scenario is possible).

On the other hand, Jon Snow's core character revolves around two facts, that he is a bastard and that he loves his Stark family. The reveal that he's not Eddard Stark's bastard but Lyanna Stark's child doesn't erase the latter, as he's a Stark through his mother. Still, the nature of Rhaegar and Lyanna's relationship may erase the former. If Jon is illegitimate, that doesn't erase the former, but if he's legitimate somehow (Targaryens are said to take multiple wives), that erases the former and replaces it another. It can go either way.

Moreover, there is at least one "legitimized bastard" story that shadows this one. In specific, Jon Snow is offered to be legitimised both by Stannis Baratheon (something that is a true temptation, as it would give him everything he secretely longed for all his life), but also by Robb's will as it names Jon Snow as his heir over sisters and that's only possible through legitimising him. It's my conviction that "the rule of three" applies, therefore that Jon will reject Robb's will like he rejected Stannis' offer, but will have a third legitimization opportunity and that this time around he'll acept.

To be more specific and in contrast with Aegon, who's introduced with kingly imagery, Jon is introduced with bastardy imagery. Bran introduces him into the narratve as his bastard brother, while Jon's first POV chapter starts with him musing that he's a bastard. While Jon has "kingly" imagery, it doesn't come associated with imagery from his father's side, and seems to be self-contained to the North (for example, the first inside joke is "kings hiding under the snow" or Mormont's crow calling him king while he's at the wall). Jon's hidden parentage comes along with prince imagery instead (for example, the anti-parallel with bastard prince Joffrey). With my conviction explained above, I do believe it will come to Aegon legitimising Jon as his heir until he has kids (a parallel to Robb's will). Most (if not all) foreshadowing falls into place. Aegon VI is king, Jon is the (bastard) prince. An example would be Sansa's "Glory to your betrothed," Ser Arys answered at once. (...) "He is the dragon's heir." which fits with Jon as Aegon's heir.

Combined, this interpreation suggests that the popular theory is actually backwards: Aegon VI is the real thing while Jon Snow is the Blackfyre (bastard Targaryen). This is in accordance to the way the text is presented.

House of Undying

"THe dragon has three heads" is referenced for the first time to Danerys Targaryen in a prophetic inducing Shade of the Evening tripping out at the House of Undying.

The man had her brother's hair, but he was taller, and his eyes were a dark indigo rather than lilac. "Aegon," he said to a woman nursing a newborn babe in a great wooden bed. "What better name for a king?"

"Will you make a song for him?" the woman asked.

"He has a song," the man replied. "He is the prince that was promised, and his is the song of ice and fire." He looked up when he said it and his eyes met Dany's, and it seemed as if he saw her standing there beyond the door. "There must be one more," he said, though whether he was speaking to her or the woman in the bed she could not say. "The dragon has three heads." He went to the window seat, picked up a harp, and ran his fingers lightly over its silvery strings. Sweet sadness filled the room as man and wife and babe faded like the morning mist, only the music lingering behind to speed her on her way.

I'll say that whatever the House of Undying shows, may not be reality. Rhaegar wanting to fulfill some prophecy with three kids is not referenced anywhere else, except this moment which is the equivalent of a very bad drug trip. It's worth mentioning though, Ratgar saw a comet in the sky and thought he should impregnate his wife, against medical advice because she who was recovering from giving birth his first child. It could be, but it could not be.

Regardless, what's important to note is what's being prophetized. Much like GRRM's convention remark, Rhaegar identifies the three heads as people. So far so good. However, he also gives us an order: omitted Rhaenys as she was born already, Aegon in mother's lap, Danerys when Rhaegar looks up to "see" her at the door, then finally Jon when he says "there must be one more". On one hand, Rhaenys was murdered and Danerys is in this as well, so the conclusion is that the former "replaced" the latter in the prophecy. On the other hand, if this had been a real memory, than Rhaegar would have two legitimate kids at the time (Rhaenys and Aegon) such saying "there must be one more" suggests a third child (Jon), which goes well with GRRM saying "the third may not be a Targaryen". So in order, we have Aegon, Danerys, Jon.

Danerys later reflects upon what this prophecy means and comes the conclusion that these heads are supposed to be people. This is because the Targaryen coat-of-arms is a dragon with three heads, each head representing three Targaryens.

"The dragon has three heads," she sighed. "Do you know what that means, Jorah?"

"Your Grace? The sigil of House Targaryen is a three-headed dragon, red on black."

"I know that. But there are no three-headed dragons."

"The three heads were Aegon and his sisters."

(...)

"Prince Aegon was Rhaegar's heir by Elia of Dorne," Ser Jorah said. "But if he was this prince that was promised, the promise was broken along with his skull when the Lannisters dashed his head against a wall."

"I remember," Dany said sadly. "They murdered Rhaegar's daughter as well, the little princess. Rhaenys, she was named, like Aegon's sister. There was no Visenya, but he said the dragon has three heads. What is the song of ice and fire?"

(...)

"Your Grace," he conceded, "the dragon has three heads, remember? You have wondered at that, ever since you heard it from the warlocks in the House of Dust. Well, here's your meaning: Balerion, Meraxes, and Vhagar, ridden by Aegon, Rhaenys, and Visenya. The three-headed dragon of House Targaryen—three dragons, and three riders."

(...)

When Brown Ben left, she lay back on her cushions. "If you were grown," she told Drogon, scratching him between the horns, "I'd fly you over the walls and melt that harpy down to slag." But it would be years before her dragons were large enough to ride. And when they are, who shall ride them? The dragon has three heads, but I have only one.

(...)

"No dragon has ever had three heads except on shields and banners," Armen the Acolyte said firmly. "That was a heraldic charge, no more. Furthermore, the Targaryens are all dead."

"Not all," said Alleras. "The Beggar King had a sister."

(...)

"The dragon must have three heads," he wailed, "but I am too old and frail to be one of them. I should be with her, showing her the way, but my body has betrayed me."

The prophecies in ASOIAF are always misunderstood. Danerys is no exception, as she's wrongly identifing people and their motives. One thing is for sure in all these mentions though, the "dragon heads" are meant to be people and one of them is Danerys.

Danerys thinks these three dragons are supposed to mimic the original trio, with herself as Aegon and two men she'll take as lovers as the two sister wives. This is where the misunderstanding is, because it's obvious from the framework that is backwards.

These at least she could rely on, or so she hoped . . . and Brown Ben Plumm as well, solid Ben with his grey-white hair and weathered face, so beloved of her dragons. And Daario beside him, glittering in gold. Daario and Ben Plumm, Grey Worm, Irri, Jhiqui, Missandei . . . as she looked at them Dany found herself wondering which of them would betray her next.

The dragon has three heads. There are two men in the world who I can trust, if I can find them. I will not be alone then. We will be three against the world, like Aegon and his sisters.

Danerys is a dumb bitch and the text shows us exactly how. The idea of Danerys being betrayed comes together with the other two heads. They're not lovers, they're betrayers. It occurs again in ADWD as she's in the Dothraki Sea, contemplentanting if the "king" betrayed her and a wolf answers in the distance.

The framework fits this foiled scenario. The original trio was a man married to both his sisters, but only he became king (later, only the man could rule according to Targaryen law). In contrast, Danerys is a woman (foil) and both her brothers are dead (foil), whom are replaced with nephews that have a bigger claim than her (foil) and whom will not be involved / married with her (foil).

It's also thematically relevant and poignant for the trios to be foiled. The Targaryen king dynasty started with an alliance between three dragons, it's fitting that it ends with a war between three dragons. It's what they've been threatening all along with the Dance of the Dragons after all.

[dwellordream]

Haunt/Hunt: In Review

Hi, it’s me, the person who spends way too much time thinking about fics they’ve already written. When I finished Haunt/Hunt in January I said that a few months down the line I would do a post talking about what I think I could have done better. I feel like now is the time, it’s been long enough that I’m not overly sensitive about the fic and defensive of it. 

This is not going to be a cumulative review of the fic, that would be way too much work and I’d rather devote my energy to new projects. Rather I just want to identify some things I think could be handled more efficiently or effectively in future fics. This isn’t meant to be self flagellating or victimizing, I am still very proud of the fic and I don’t have any major regrets. That said:

What Could Have Gone Better:

Number one is probably pacing/overall length. The fic is over 700,000 words long. On the one hand, it covers the length of pretty much the entire ASOIAF series, so I very much doubt I could have written it in 100,000 words or less, as some writers advise every story can be told in. On the other hand, I don’t think it needed to be 700,000 words long and there are probably some chapters, especially the ones set at Riverrun during Nell’s pregnancy or at the Twins when she is being held prisoner, that could have been combined or compressed to make the pacing a bit tighter. I probably could have gotten the fic to 500,000 words or less with more editing and scrutinizing. That aside, I don’t think the pacing is that terrible, but the opening of the fic is quite slow and the plot really doesn’t kick into gear until Chapter 10. I probably could have cut down the opening events to just 5 chapters worth. 

Number two is I think the POV balance, which is kind of janky when you consider that Nell is the sole narrator until Chapter 21, at which point we meet Beth, and then in 38 we meet Dana and 58 we meet Jory. I don’t regret including more than one POV but I think they maybe could have been balanced better or introduced earlier on, I’m still not really sure. I think it worked, more or less, but it’s not the same flow as in the canon series where the POVs are more balanced. 

Number three is Roose. Don’t get me wrong I love Roose as a villain and I absolutely don’t reget him playing an antagonistic role in the story. What I do think is that if I were to write it again I would try to make his characterization more subtle and I wouldn’t go into such excruciating detail regarding Nell’s upbringing. I don’t think Roose comes across as completely over the top or out of character in the story but again, I think he could have been handled a bit more delicately and maybe with more nuance to him than just ‘he’s basically the same as Ramsay he just hides it much better and is a little more thoughtful’. 

Number four is the Red Wedding. I absolutely will never apologize for including it and it is a crucial aspect of the story THAT SAID I admit it was not necessary for it to occur in such a similar manner to canon and I think I could have been more creative with how the Bolton and Frey betrayal came about. It did end up changed slightly from canon with the attack happening in the early hours of the morning after the wedding but I could have been more original with it and I concede for some readers it was probably frustrating to have to it happen in so similar a manner. 

Number five is Brienne and Theon, I feel like I could have done more with her character and that she kind of just ended up playing second string to Jory’s narrative. I obviously don’t regret including her or Hyle or Pod in the story but I feel like I could have done more with Brienne. The same goes for Theon, I feel like his plot could have been mixed up a bit, not exactly sure how but it didn’t really change much from canon and I feel like that was a wasted opportunity.

Number six is the northern lords in general. I don’t think I wrote them off entirely but they do end up kind of taking a backseat to the Nell - Stannis - Harry K - Jon Snow- Daenerys drama of the last quarter of the fic and besides Barbrey and Harry and Alys and the Hornwoods they didn’t get as much page time as they probably should have. I tried to be mindful of all the northern political maneuvering but I could have done more with it. I feel the same way about the wildlings, on a similar bent, I didn’t delve into them as much as I would have liked in my rush to finish up the fic.

Number seven is Dany and her dragons. While I was very firm about not suddenly switching to depicting all the southern plotlines as well, if you take the story as a standalone the entrance of Team Dany comes very sudden and abrupt and she also exits the story in a fairly abrupt manner. I liked what I was able to do with her in the brief time she was there but I feel like she could have made an entrance a bit earlier and we could have spent more time with her, Tyrion, Missandei, the Dothraki, etc. 

Those were the major points I wanted to hit on but there are probably many scenes and plot points in the fic that were either confusing, a bit too dry, or just unnecessary. Ultimately I do try to improve in various aspects with every project. Haunt/Hunt definitely is an improvement on I Was Whole. We’ll see if AOUH improves on anything from Haunt/Hunt. But yes, while the fic has gotten a lot of praise, I don’t want to ever give the impression I believe it is flawless or perfect or that it couldn’t have been done better.

[aboveallarescuer]

Dany’s intelligence, thoughtfulness and overall line of reasoning for taking decisions

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Adaptational Badass: Thanks to her being four years older in the show, it is she and not her advisers who come up with the battle plans in Seasons 3 and 4, plus her army does not seem to be on the verge of starving when they reach Meereen; showing her talent for logistics and conquering. (TVTropes)

~

Daenerys is super uncompromising about slavery, which is great, but her moral absolutism undermines her own goals. After conquering Yunkai and Astapor, and freeing their slaves, she peaces out to her next project. Since she never bothers to establish any kind of tenable power structure, they collapse and return to slavery, or similar, as soon as she is gone. (Wisecrack)

~

Daenerys [...] has exactly one strategy, and it’s called, “Yell A Lot and Burn Stuff.” That’s not always a bad strategy. The good ol “yell and burn” has gotten Daenerys out of being kidnapped, snagged her 8,000 Unsullied soldiers, saved Meereen from warships, and earned her the loyalty of the Dothraki not once, but twice. (Wisecrack)

~

Take the Unsullied. They aren’t exactly sellswords when they’re first introduced; they’re slaves. They aren’t fighting for loyalty or religion. However, by freeing them, Daenerys has transformed them from unwilling mercenaries to dedicated soldiers who are now devoted to her cause. So far, they’ve been her best fighters and their leader, Grey Worm, is one of her most trusted advisors. So, while freeing the Unsullied could be just another shining symbol of Daenerys's wokeness, it's also strategic. It’s likely no accident that she leaves the mercenaries in Meereen when she ships off to Westeros with the troops that now very much believe in her. (Wisecrack)

Dany doesn't come up with the battle plans in the books? Dany doesn't establish any kind of tenable power structure (it can be argued that she didn't do enough, but to say she didn't bother is plain wrong)? Dany only wants soldiers devoted to her cause (we even saw that she found treachery convenient in ADWD Dany VIII; besides, that would be dumb because she'd lose lots of men if she acted on that strictly and she's consistenly characterized as someone who listens to several perspectives, which is the opposite of desiring full devotion ... but I digress)? Dany's only strategy is to "Yell A Lot and Burn Stuff"?

I would argue these claims certainly cannot be made after reading the books (some can't even after watching the show's first 71 episodes, but it can be all over the place), so take a look at these passages.

NOTE: to decide which passages to include, I considered parameters such as social intelligence (she can usually read people well and act on that information, which we see from when she executes her plan against the masters in ASOS Dany III to when she notices that Daario didn't know that Quentyn's party was made of knights; there are exceptions, such as in Mirri's case), political awareness (like when she chooses to wear Qartheen gowns in ASOS Dany III and ADWD Dany III to appease Xaro and the masters or when she chooses Strong Belwas instead of the other men to fight against Oznak zo Pahl in ASOS Dany V or when she ponders if marrying Hizdahr will make her lose the Shavepate's support or when she asks Barristan to release Pretty Meris so she can try to obtain the support of Gylo Rhegan and the Tattered Prince for Dany's side because she's distrustful of the Yunkish in ADWD Dany VIII), battle plans (like when she concocts a plan to conquer Yunkai when her opponents least expect it in ASOS Dany IV) or clever associations (like when, even far away from Meereen, she remembers Belwas's physical reaction to the locusts and realizes, by herself, that they were poisoned, and then becomes suspicious of Hizdahr, who offered them to her and later screamed in favor of Drogon's death (she might be wrong in the latter, but she has a good reason to think so) in ADWD Dany X or when she realizes that "they cheer me on the same plaza where I once impaled one hundred sixty-three Great Masters" in ADWD Dany IX or in AGOT Dany I, in which she noticed that using a golden collar made her look like both a princess and one of Khal Drogo's slaves). Magical intuition would also fit, but I made a separate list for that one.

I must note, though, that the point of gathering these passages is not to find moments where Dany necessarily gets things right, but rather, to show that Dany almost always has a set of reasons for making the decisions she does. Even when she makes mistakes (and while her mistakes may have bigger negative effects than most of other characters', it must also be remembered that she makes bigger gambles than most), it can't be said that she was reckless, but rather that she lacked information or experience.

A Dance with Dragons

ADWD Daenerys X

Two days ago, climbing on a spire of rock, she had spied water to the south, a slender thread that glittered briefly as the sun was going down. A stream, Dany decided. Small, but it would lead her to a larger stream, and that stream would flow into some little river, and all the rivers in this part of the world were vassals of the Skahazadhan. Once she found the Skahazadhan she need only follow it downstream to Slaver’s Bay.

~

As the world darkened, Dany settled in and closed her eyes, but sleep refused to come. The night was cold, the ground hard, her belly empty. She found herself thinking of Meereen, of Daario, her love, and Hizdahr, her husband, of Irri and Jhiqui and sweet Missandei, Ser Barristan and Reznak and Skahaz Shavepate. Do they fear me dead? I flew off on a dragon’s back. Will they think he ate me? She wondered if Hizdahr was still king. His crown had come from her, could he hold it in her absence? He wanted Drogon dead. I heard him. “Kill it,” he screamed, “kill the beast,” and the look upon his face was lustful. And Strong Belwas had been on his knees, heaving and shuddering. Poison. It had to be poison. The honeyed locusts. Hizdahr urged them on me, but Belwas ate them all. She had made Hizdahr her king, taken him into her bed, opened the fighting pits for him, he had no reason to want her dead. Yet who else could it have been? Reznak, her perfumed seneschal? The Yunkai’i? The Sons of the Harpy?

~

She would have slept beside the water if she dared, but there were animals who came down to the stream to drink at night. She had seen their tracks. Dany would make a poor meal for a wolf or lion, but even a poor meal was better than none.

~

She fumbled in the water, found a stone the size of her fist, pulled it from the mud. It was a poor weapon but better than an empty hand.

~

In a dozen heartbeats they were past the Dothraki, as he galloped far below. To the right and left, Dany glimpsed places where the grass was burned and ashen. Drogon has come this way before, she realized. Like a chain of grey islands, the marks of his hunting dotted the green grass sea.

ADWD Daenerys IX

“Half of these Brazen Beasts are untried freedmen.” And the other half are Meereenese of doubtful loyalty, he left unsaid. Selmy mistrusted all the Meereenese, even shavepates.

~

How queer, the queen thought. They cheer me on the same plaza where I once impaled one hundred sixty-three Great Masters.

~

Across the pit the Graces sat in flowing robes of many colors, clustered around the austere figure of Galazza Galare, who alone amongst them wore the green. The Great Masters of Meereen occupied the red and orange benches. The women were veiled, and the men had brushed and lacquered their hair into horns and hands and spikes. Hizdahr’s kin of the ancient line of Loraq seemed to favor tokars of purple and indigo and lilac, whilst those of Pahl were striped in pink and white. The envoys from Yunkai were all in yellow and filled the box beside the king’s, each of them with his slaves and servants. Meereenese of lesser birth crowded the upper tiers, more distant from the carnage. The black and purple benches, highest and most distant from the sand, were crowded with freedmen and other common folk. The sellswords had been placed up there as well, Daenerys saw, their captains seated right amongst the common soldiers. She spied Brown Ben’s weathered face and Bloodbeard’s fiery red whiskers and long braids.

~

Barsena’s blade was running red, but the boar soon stopped. He is smarter than a bull, Dany realized. He will not charge again.

~

“Magnificence, the people of Meereen have come to celebrate our union. You heard them cheering you. Do not cast away their love.”

“It was my floppy ears they cheered, not me. Take me from this abbatoir, husband.”

ADWD Daenerys VIII

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[...] “We can still use them. One was a woman. Meris. Send her back, as a … a gesture of my regard. If their captain is a clever man, he will understand.”

“The woman is the worst of all.”

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

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

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

[...] [“]Set Pretty Meris free. At once.”

~

Her king was laughing with Yurkhaz zo Yunzak and the other Yunkish lords. Dany did not think that he would miss her, but just in case she instructed her handmaids to tell him that she was answering a call of nature, should he inquire after her.

~

Martell’s square face was flushed and ruddy. Too much wine, the queen concluded, though he was doing his best to conceal that.

~

“The dragon has three heads,” Dany said when they were on the final flight. “My marriage need not be the end of all your hopes. I know why you are here.”

“For you,” said Quentyn, all awkward gallantry.

“No,” said Dany. “For fire and blood.”

~

“You … you mean to ride them?”

“One of them. All I know of dragons is what my brother told me when I was a girl, and some I read in books, but it is said that even Aegon the Conqueror never dared mount Vhagar or Meraxes, nor did his sisters ride Balerion the Black Dread. Dragons live longer than men, some for hundreds of years, so Balerion had other riders after Aegon died … but no rider ever flew two dragons.”

~

He does not belong here. He should never have come. “You ought to return there. My court is no safe place for you, I fear. You have more enemies than you know. You made Daario look a fool, and he is not a man to forget such a slight.”

“I have my knights. My sworn shields.”

“Two knights. Daario has five hundred Stormcrows. And you would do well to beware of my lord husband too. He seems a mild and pleasant man, I know, but do not be deceived. Hizdahr’s crown derives from mine, and he commands the allegiance of some of the most fearsome fighters in the world. If one of them should think to win his favor by disposing of a rival …”

“I am a prince of Dorne, Your Grace. I will not run from slaves and sell swords.”

Then you truly are a fool, Prince Frog.

ADWD Daenerys VII

It was close to sunset before Daario Naharis appeared with his new Stormcrows, the Westerosi who had come over to him from the Windblown. Dany found herself glancing at them as yet another petitioner droned on and on. These are my people. I am their rightful queen. They seemed a scruffy bunch, but that was only to be expected of sellswords. The youngest could not have been more than a year older than her; the oldest must have seen sixty namedays. A few sported signs of wealth: gold arm rings, silken tunics, silverstudded sword belts. Plunder. For the most part, their clothes were plainly made and showed signs of hard wear.

~

“If it please Your Grace, we are all three knights.”

Dany glanced at Daario and saw anger flash across his face. He did not know. “I have need of knights,” she said.

~

“Three liars,” Daario said darkly. “They deceived me.”

“And bought you too, I do not doubt.” He did not trouble to deny it.

ADWD Daenerys VI

“Irri, bring the green tokar, the silk one fringed with Myrish lace.”

“That one is being repaired, Khaleesi. The lace was torn. The blue tokar has been cleaned.”

“Blue, then. They will be just as pleased.”

She was only half-wrong. The priestess and the seneschal were happy to see her garbed in a tokar, a proper Meereenese lady for once, but what they really wanted was to strip her bare.

ADWD Daenerys V

Ser Barristan remained. “Our stores are ample for the moment,” he reminded her, “and Your Grace has planted beans and grapes and wheat. Your Dothraki have harried the slavers from the hills and struck the shackles from their slaves. They are planting too, and will be bringing their crops to Meereen to market. And you will have the friendship of Lhazar.”

~

Skahaz was convinced that somewhere in Meereen the Sons of the Harpy had a highborn overlord, a secret general commanding an army of shadows. Dany did not share his belief. The Brazen Beasts had taken dozens of the Harpy’s Sons, and those who had survived their capture had yielded names when questioned sharply … too many names, it seemed to her. It would have been pleasant to think that all the deaths were the work of a single enemy who might be caught and killed, but Dany suspected that the truth was otherwise. My enemies are legion. “Hizdahr zo Loraq is a persuasive man with many friends. And he is wealthy. Perhaps he has bought this peace for us with gold, or convinced the other highborn that our marriage is in their best interests.”

~

“It is good that you have come,” she told the Astapori. “You will be safe in Meereen.”

The cobbler thanked her for that, and the old brickmaker kissed her foot, but the weaver looked at her with eyes as hard as slate. She knows I lie, the queen thought. She knows I cannot keep them safe. Astapor is burning, and Meereen is next.

~

“What do you counsel, ser?”

“Battle,” said Ser Barristan. “Meereen is overcrowded and full of hungry mouths, and you have too many enemies within. We cannot long withstand a siege, I fear. Let me meet the foe as he comes north, on ground of my own choosing.”

“Meet the foe,” she echoed, “with the freedmen you’ve called half-trained and unblooded.”

“We were all unblooded once, Your Grace. The Unsullied will help stiffen them. If I had five hundred knights …”

“Or five. And if I give you the Unsullied, I will have no one but the Brazen Beasts to hold Meereen.”

[...] “I cannot fight two enemies, one within and one without. If I am to hold Meereen, I must have the city behind me. The whole city. I need … I need …” She could not say it.

“Your Grace?” Ser Barristan prompted, gently.

A queen belongs not to herself but to her people.

“I need Hizdahr zo Loraq.”

ADWD Daenerys IV

If I wed Hizdahr, will that turn Skahaz against me? She trusted Skahaz more than she trusted Hizdahr, but the Shavepate would be a disaster as a king. He was too quick to anger, too slow to forgive. She saw no gain in wedding a man as hated as herself. Hizdahr was well respected, so far as she could see.

~

“You know why you are here. The Green Grace seems to feel that if I take you for my husband, all my woes will vanish.”

“I would never make so bold a claim. Men are born to strive and suffer. Our woes only vanish when we die. I can be of help to you, however. I have gold and friends and influence, and the blood of Old Ghis flows in my veins. Though I have never wed, I have two natural children, a boy and a girl, so I can give you heirs. I can reconcile the city to your rule and put an end to this nightly slaughter in the streets.”

“Can you?” Dany studied his eyes. “Why should the Sons of the Harpy lay down their knives for you? Are you one of them?”

“No.”

“Would you tell me if you were?”

He laughed. “No.”

~

The Shavepate will not be happy with me, but Reznak mo Reznak will dance for joy. Dany did not know which of those concerned her more. She needed Skahaz and the Brazen Beasts, and she had come to mistrust all of Reznak’s counsel. Beware the perfumed seneschal. Has Reznak made common cause with Hizdahr and the Green Grace and set some trap to snare me?

~

“Ninety days is a long time. Hizdahr may fail. And if he does, the trying buys me time. Time to make alliances, to strengthen my defenses, to—”

“And if he does not fail? What will Your Grace do then?”

“Her duty.”

~

Daario. Her heart gave a flutter in her chest. “How long has … when did he …?” She could not seem to get the words out.

Ser Barristan seemed to understand.

~

“... a dozen of the Long Lances decided they would sooner be Stormcrows than corpses, so we came out three ahead. I told them they would live longer fighting with your dragons than against them, and they saw the wisdom in my words.”

That made her wary. “They might be spying for Yunkai.”

ADWD Daenerys III

Reznak mo Reznak’s mouth was open, and his lips glistened wetly as he watched. Hizdahr zo Loraq was saying something to the man beside him, yet all the time his eyes were on the dancing girls. The Shavepate’s ugly, oily face was as stern as ever, but he missed nothing.

It was harder to know what her honored guest was dreaming.

~

In his honor Daenerys had donned a Qartheen gown, a sheer confection of violet samite cut so as to leave her left breast bare. Her silver-gold hair brushed lightly over her shoulder, falling almost to her nipple. Half the men in the hall had stolen glances at her, but not Xaro. It was the same in Qarth. She could not sway the merchant prince that way. Sway him I must, however.

~

“I am glad you came to me. It is good to see your face again, my friend.” I will not trust you, but I need you. I need your Thirteen, I need your ships, I need your trade.

~

In Qarth, you had three bloodriders who never left your side. Wherever have they gone?”

“Aggo, Jhoqo, and Rakharo still serve me.” He is playing games with me. Dany could play as well.

~

Dany knew him too well to be moved. Qartheen men could weep at will. “Oh, stop that.” She took a cherry from the bowl on the table and threw it at his nose. “I may be a young girl, but I am not so foolish as to wed a man who finds a fruit platter more enticing than my breast. I saw which dancers you were watching.”

~

“[...] A ditch, to bring water from the river to the fields. We mean to plant beans. The beanfields must have water.”

“[...] Meereen needs beans more than it needs rare spices, and beans require water.”

~

“...The ships are yours, sweet queen. Thirteen galleys, and men to pull the oars.”

Thirteen. To be sure. Xaro was one of the Thirteen. No doubt he had convinced each of his fellow members to give up one ship. She knew the merchant prince too well to think that he would sacrifice thirteen of his own ships. “I must consider this. May I inspect these ships?”

“You have grown suspicious, Daenerys.”

Always. “I have grown wise, Xaro.”

~

“for young and strong as you now seem, you shall not live so long. Not here.”

He offers the honeycomb with one hand and shows the whip with the other. “The Yunkai’i are not so fearsome as all that.”  

~

“Some other night.” His mouth was sad, but his eyes seemed more relieved than disappointed.

~

“A map? It is beautiful.” It covered half the floor. The seas were blue, the lands were green, the mountains black and brown. Cities were shown as stars in gold or silver thread. There is no Smoking Sea, she realized. Valyria is not yet an island.

~

“...Take these ships and sail away, or you will surely die screaming. You cannot know how many enemies you have made.”

I know one stands before me now, weeping mummer’s tears. The realization made her sad.

~

The next morning Xaro’s galleas was gone, but the “gift” that he had brought her remained behind in Slaver’s Bay. Long red streamers flew from the masts of the thirteen Qartheen galleys, writhing in the wind. And when Daenerys descended to hold court, a messenger from the ships awaited her. He spoke no word but laid at her feet a black satin pillow, upon which rested a single bloodstained glove.

“What is this?” Skahaz demanded. “A bloody glove …”

“… means war,” said the queen.

ADWD Daenerys II

“I will have no more Unsullied slaughtered. Grey Worm, pull your men back to their barracks. Henceforth let them guard my walls and gates and person. From this day, it shall be for Meereenese to keep the peace in Meereen. Skahaz, make me a new watch, made up in equal parts of shavepates and freedmen.”

“As you command. How many men?”

“As many as you require.”

Reznak mo Reznak gasped. “Magnificence, where is the coin to come from to pay wages for so many men?”

“From the pyramids. Call it a blood tax. I will have a hundred pieces of gold from every pyramid for each freedman that the Harpy’s Sons have slain.”

That brought a smile to the Shavepate’s face. “It will be done,” he said, “but Your Radiance should know that the Great Masters of Zhak and Merreq are making preparations to quit their pyramids and leave the city.”

Daenerys was sick unto death of Zhak and Merreq; she was sick of all the Mereenese, great and small alike. “Let them go, but see that they take no more than the clothes upon their backs. Make certain that all their gold remains here with us. Their stores of food as well.”

~

Her name had been Hazzea. She was four years old. Unless her father lied. He might have lied. No one had seen the dragon but him. His proof was burned bones, but burned bones proved nothing. He might have killed the little girl himself, and burned her afterward. He would not have been the first father to dispose of an unwanted girl child, the Shavepate claimed. The Sons of the Harpy might have done it, and made it look like dragon’s work to make the city hate me. Dany wanted to believe that … but if that was so, why had Hazzea’s father waited until the audience hall was almost empty to come forward? If his purpose had been to inflame the Meereenese against her, he would have told his tale when the hall was full of ears to hear.

ADWD Daenerys I

“Soldiers, not warriors, if it please Your Grace. They were made for the battlefield, to stand shoulder to shoulder behind their shields with their spears thrust out before them. Their training teaches them to obey, fearlessly, perfectly, without thought or hesitation ... not to unravel secrets or ask questions.”

“Would knights serve me any better?” Selmy was training knights for her, teaching the sons of slaves to fight with lance and longsword in the Westerosi fashion ... but what good would lances do against cowards who killed from the shadows?

“Not in this,” the old man admitted. “And Your Grace has no knights, save me. It will be years before the boys are ready.”

“Then who, if not Unsullied? Dothraki would be even worse.” Dothraki fought from horseback. Mounted men were of more use in open fields and hills than in the narrow streets and alleys of the city.

~

Dany had dispatched her tiny khalasar to subdue the hinterlands, under the command of her three bloodriders, whilst Brown Ben Plumm took his Second Sons south to guard against Yunkish incursions.

The most crucial task of all she had entrusted to Daario Naharis, glib-tongued Daario with his gold tooth and trident beard, smiling his wicked smile through purple whiskers. Beyond the eastern hills was a range of rounded sandstone mountains, the Khyzai Pass, and Lhazar. If Daario could convince the Lhazarene to reopen the overland trade routes, grains could be brought down the river or over the hills at need … but the Lamb Men had no reason to love Meereen. “When the Stormcrows return from Lhazar, perhaps I can use them in the streets,” she told Ser Barristan, “but until then I have only the Unsullied.”

~

Dragons are fire made flesh. She had read that in one of the books Ser Jorah had given her as a wedding gift. 

~

By shaving, Skahaz had put old Meereen behind him to accept the new, and his kin had done the same after his example. Others followed, though whether from fear, fashion, or ambition, Dany could not say; shavepates, they were called.

~

I need this man, Dany reminded herself. Hizdahr was a wealthy merchant with many friends in Meereen, and more across the seas. He had visited Volantis, Lys, and Qarth, had kin in Tolos and Elyria, and was even said to wield some influence in New Ghis, where the Yunkai’i were trying to stir up enmity against Dany and her rule.

And he was rich. Famously and fabulously rich ...

And like to grow richer, if I grant his petition. When Dany had closed the city’s fighting pits, the value of pit shares had plummeted. Hizdahr zo Loraq had grabbed them up with both hands, and now owned most of the fighting pits in Meereen.

The nobleman had wings of wiry red-black hair sprouting from his temples. They made him look as if his head were about to take flight. His long face was made even longer by a beard bound with rings of gold. His purple tokar was fringed with amethysts and pearls.

~

“If Your Majesty will hear my arguments ...”

“I have. Five times. Have you brought new arguments?”

“Old arguments,” Hizdahr admitted, “new words. Lovely words, and courteous, more apt to move a queen.”

“It is your cause I find wanting, not your courtesies. I have heard your arguments so often I could plead your case myself. Shall I?” Dany leaned forward. “The fighting pits have been a part of Meereen since the city was founded. The combats are profoundly religious in nature, a blood sacrifice to the gods of Ghis. The mortal art of Ghis is not mere butchery but a display of courage, skill, and strength most pleasing to your gods. Victorious fighters are pampered and acclaimed, and the slain are honored and remembered. By reopening the pits I would show the people of Meereen that I respect their ways and customs. The pits are far-famed across the world. They draw trade to Meereen, and fill the city’s coffers with coin from the ends of the earth. All men share a taste for blood, a taste the pits help slake. In that way they make Meereen more tranquil. For criminals condemned to die upon the sands, the pits represent a judgment by battle, a last chance for a man to prove his innocence.” She leaned back again, with a toss of her head. “There. How have I done?”

“Your Radiance has stated the case much better than I could have hoped to do myself. I see that you are eloquent as well as beautiful. I am quite persuaded.”

She had to laugh. “Ah, but I am not.”

~

“Your Magnificence,” whispered Reznak mo Reznak in her ear, “it is customary for the city to claim one-tenth of all the profits from the fighting pits, after expenses, as a tax. That coin might be put to many noble uses.” 

 “It might … though if we were to reopen the pits, we should take our tenth before expenses. I am only a young girl and know little of such matters, but I dwelt with Xaro Xhoan Daxos long enough to learn that much. Hizdahr, if you could marshal armies as you marshal arguments, you could conquer the world … but my answer is still no. For the sixth time.”

~

She nibbled whilst she listened, and sipped from a cup of watered wine. The figs were fine, the olives even finer, but the wine left a tart metallic aftertaste in her mouth. The small pale yellow grapes native to these regions produced a notably inferior vintage. We shall have no trade in wine. Besides, the Great Masters had burned the best arbors along with the olive trees. 

~

“Three-and-twenty.” Dany sighed. “My dragons have developed a prodigious taste for mutton since we began to pay the shepherds for their kills. Have these claims been proven?” 

“Some men have brought burnt bones.” 

“Men make fires. Men cook mutton. Burnt bones prove nothing. Brown Ben says there are red wolves in the hills outside the city, and jackals and wild dogs. Must we pay good silver for every lamb that goes astray between Yunkai and the Skahazadhan?” 

“No, Magnificence.” Reznak bowed. “Shall I send these rascals away, or will you want them scourged?” 

Daenerys shifted on the bench. “No man should ever fear to come to me.” Some claims were false, she did not doubt, but more were genuine. Her dragons had grown too large to be content with rats and cats and dogs. The more they eat, the larger they will grow, Ser Barristan had warned her, and the larger they grow, the more they’ll eat. Drogon especially ranged far afield and could easily devour a sheep a day. “Pay them for the value of their animals,” she told Reznak, “but henceforth claimants must present themselves at the Temple of the Graces and swear a holy oath before the gods of Ghis.”

A Storm of Swords

ASOS Daenerys VI

No one was calling her Daenerys the Conqueror yet, but perhaps they would. Aegon the Conqueror had won Westeros with three dragons, but she had taken Meereen with sewer rats and a wooden cock, in less than a day. Poor Groleo. He still grieved for his ship, she knew. If a war galley could ram another ship, why not a gate? That had been her thought when she commanded the captains to drive their ships ashore. Their masts had become her battering rams, and swarms of freedmen had torn their hulls apart to build mantlets, turtles, catapults, and ladders. The sellwords had given each ram a bawdy name, and it had been the mainmast of Meraxes—formerly Joso’s Prank—that had broken the eastern gate. Joso’s Cock, they called it. The fighting had raged bitter and bloody for most of a day and well into the night before the wood began to splinter and Meraxes’ iron figurehead, a laughing jester’s face, came crashing through.

Dany had wanted to lead the attack herself, but to a man her captains said that would be madness, and her captains never agreed on anything. Instead she remained in the rear, sitting atop her silver in a long shirt of mail. She heard the city fall from half a league away, though, when the defenders’ shouts of defiance changed to cries of fear. Her dragons had roared as one in that moment, filling the night with flame. The slaves are rising, she knew at once. My sewer rats have gnawed off their chains.

When the last resistance had been crushed by the Unsullied and the sack had run its course, Dany entered her city. The dead were heaped so high before the broken gate that it took her freedmen near an hour to make a path for her silver. Joso’s Cock and the great wooden turtle that had protected it, covered with horsehides, lay abandoned within. She rode past burned buildings and broken windows, through brick streets where the gutters were choked with the stiff and swollen dead. Cheering slaves lifted bloodstained hands to her as she went by, and called her “Mother.”

~

Meereen had been sacked savagely, as new-fallen cities always were, but Dany was determined that should end now that the city was hers. She had decreed that murderers were to be hanged, that looters were to lose a hand, and rapists their manhood. Eight killers swung from the walls, and the Unsullied had filled a bushel basket with bloody hands and soft red worms, but Meereen was calm again. But for how long?

~

“It shall be done as you command, glorious queen,” said Daario. “My Stormcrows will collect your tenth.” If the Stormcrows saw to the collections at least half the gold would somehow go astray, Dany knew. But the Second Sons were just as bad, and the Unsullied were as unlettered as they were incorruptible. “Records must be kept,” she said. “Seek among the freedmen for men who can read, write, and do sums.” 

~

While Joso’s Cock and the other rams were battering the city gates and her archers were firing flights of flaming arrows over the walls, Dany had sent two hundred men along the river under cover of darkness to fire the hulks in the harbor. But that was only to hide their true purpose. As the flaming ships drew the eyes of the defenders on the walls, a few half- mad swimmers found the sewer mouths and pried loose a rusted iron grating. Ser Jorah, Ser Barristan, Strong Belwas, and twenty brave fools slipped beneath the brown water and up the brick tunnel, a mixed force of sellswords, Unsullied, and freedmen. Dany had told them to choose only men who had no families ... and preferably no sense of smell.

~

“You are trembling, Khaleesi,” the girl said as she knelt to lace up Dany’s sandals.

“I’m cold,” Dany lied. “Bring me the book I was reading last night.” She wanted to lose herself in the words, in other times and other places. The fat leather-bound volume was full of songs and stories from the Seven Kingdoms. Children’s stories, if truth be told; too simple and fanciful to be true history. All the heroes were tall and handsome, and you could tell the traitors by their shifty eyes. Yet she loved them all the same. Last night she had been reading of the three princesses in the red tower, locked away by the king for the crime of being beautiful.

ASOS Daenerys V

Her bloodriders were in such a fever to go meet him that they almost came to blows. “Blood of my blood,” Dany told them, “your place is here by me. This man is a buzzing fly, no more. Ignore him, he will soon be gone.” Aggo, Jhogo, and Rakharo were brave warriors, but they were young, and too valuable to risk. They kept her khalasar together, and were her best scouts too.

~

Meereen posed dangers far more serious than one pink-and-white hero shouting insults, and she could not let herself be distracted. Her host numbered more than eighty thousand after Yunkai, but fewer than a quarter of them were soldiers. The rest ... well, Ser Jorah called them mouths with feet, and soon they would be starving.

~

They watched Oznak zo Pahl dismount his white charger, undo his robes, pull out his manhood, and direct a stream of urine in the general direction of the olive grove where Dany’s gold pavilion stood among the burnt trees. He was still pissing when Daario Naharis rode up, arakh in hand. “Shall I cut that off for you and stuff it down his mouth, Your Grace?” His tooth shone gold amidst the blue of his forked beard.

“It’s his city I want, not his meager manhood.” She was growing angry, however. If I ignore this any longer, my own people will think me weak. Yet who could she send? She needed Daario as much as she did her bloodriders. Without the flamboyant Tyroshi, she had no hold on the Stormcrows, many of whom had been followers of Prendahl na Ghezn and Sallor the Bald.

High on the walls of Meereen, the jeers had grown louder, and now hundreds of the defenders were taking their lead from the hero and pissing down through the ramparts to show their contempt for the besiegers. They are pissing on slaves, to show how little they fear us, she thought. They would never dare such a thing if it were a Dothraki khalasar outside their gates.

“This challenge must be met,” Arstan said again.

“It will be.” Dany said, as the hero tucked his penis away again. “Tell Strong Belwas I have need of him.”

[...] “Why that one, Khaleesi?” Rakharo demanded of her. “He is fat and stupid.”

“Strong Belwas was a slave here in the fighting pits. If this highborn Oznak should fall to such the Great Masters will be shamed, while if he wins ... well, it is a poor victory for one so noble, one that Meereen can take no pride in.” And unlike Ser Jorah, Daario, Brown Ben, and her three bloodriders, the eunuch did not lead troops, plan battles, or give her counsel. He does nothing but eat and boast and bellow at Arstan. Belwas was the man she could most easily spare. And it was time she learned what sort of protector Magister Illyrio had sent her.

~

“We should have given him chainmail,” Dany said, suddenly anxious.

“Mail would only slow him,” said Ser Jorah. “They wear no armor in the fighting pits. It’s blood the crowds come to see.”

~

Oznak zo Pahl charged a third time, and now Dany could see plainly that he was riding past Belwas, the way a Westerosi knight might ride at an opponent in a tilt, rather than at him, like a Dothraki riding down a foe.

~

“Given time, we might be able to mine beneath a tower and make a breach, but what do we eat while we’re digging? Our stores are all but exhausted.”

“No weakness in the landward walls?” said Dany. Meereen stood on a jut of sand and stone where the slow brown Skahazadhan flowed into Slaver’s Bay. The city’s north wall ran along the riverbank, its west along the bay shore. “Does that mean we might attack from the river or the sea?”

“With three ships? We’ll want to have Captain Groleo take a good look at the wall along the river, but unless it’s crumbling that’s just a wetter way to die.”

“What if we were to build siege towers? My brother Viserys told tales of such, I know they can be made.”

“From wood, Your Grace,” Ser Jorah said. “The slavers have burnt every tree within twenty leagues of here.[”]

~

“These sewers do not sound promising.” Grey Worm would lead his Unsullied down the sewers if she commanded it, she knew; her bloodriders would do no less. But none of them was suited to the task. The Dothraki were horsemen, and the strength of the Unsullied was their discipline on the battlefield. Can I send men to die in the dark on such a slender hope?

~

“Where shall we go, Your Grace?”

“To hell, to serve King Robert.” Dany felt hot tears on her cheeks. [...] “You go ...” [...] “You go ... go ...” Where?

And then she knew.

ASOS Daenerys IV

Dany reined in her mare and looked across the fields, to where the Yunkish host lay athwart her path. Whitebeard had been teaching her how best to count the numbers of a foe. "Five thousand," she said after a moment.

~

Dany considered. The slaver host seemed small compared to her own numbers, but the sellswords were ahorse. She’d ridden too long with Dothraki not to have a healthy respect for what mounted warriors could do to foot. The Unsullied could withstand their charge, but my freedmen will be slaughtered. “The slavers like to talk,” she said. “Send word that I will hear them this evening in my tent. And invite the captains of the sellsword companies to call on me as well. But not together. The Stormcrows at midday, the Second Sons two hours later.”

“As you wish,” Ser Jorah said. “But if they do not come—”

“They’ll come. They will be curious to see the dragons and hear what I might have to say, and the clever ones will see it for a chance to gauge my strength.” She wheeled her silver mare about. “I’ll await them in my pavilion.”

~

“You took Astapor by treachery, but Yunkai shall not fall so easily.”

“Five hundred of your Stormcrows against ten thousand of my Unsullied,” said Dany. “I am only a young girl and do not understand the ways of war, yet these odds seem poor to me.”

“The Stormcrows do not stand alone,” said Prendahl.

“Stormcrows do not stand at all. They fly, at the first sign of thunder. Perhaps you should be flying now. I have heard that sellswords are notoriously unfaithful. What will it avail you to be staunch, when the Second Sons change sides?”

“That will not happen,” Prendahl insisted, unmoved. “And if it did, it would not matter. The Second Sons are nothing. We fight beside the stalwart men of Yunkai.”

“You fight beside bed-boys armed with spears.” When she turned her head, the twin bells in her braid rang softly. “Once battle is joined, do not think to ask for quarter. Join me now, however, and you shall keep the gold the Yunkai’i paid you and claim a share of the plunder besides, with greater rewards later when I come into my kingdom. Fight for the Wise Masters, and your wages will be death. Do you imagine that Yunkai will open its gates when my Unsullied are butchering you beneath the walls?”

“Woman, you bray like an ass, and make no more sense.”

“Woman?” She chuckled. “Is that meant to insult me? I would return the slap, if I took you for a man.” Dany met his stare. “I am Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, the Unburnt, Mother of Dragons, khaleesi to Drogo’s riders, and queen of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros.”

~

“What say you take those clothes off and come sit on my lap? If you please me, I might bring the Second Sons over to your side.”

“If you bring the Second Sons over to my side, I might not have you gelded.”

The big man laughed. “Little girl, another woman once tried to geld me with her teeth. She has no teeth now, but my sword is as long and thick as ever. Shall I take it out and show you?”

“No need. After my eunuchs cut it off, I can examine it at my leisure.” Dany took a sip of wine. “It is true that I am only a young girl, and do not know the ways of war. Explain to me how you propose to defeat ten thousand Unsullied with your five hundred. Innocent as I am, these odds seem poor to me.”

“The Second Sons have faced worse odds and won.”

“The Second Sons have faced worse odds and run. At Qohor, when the Three Thousand made their stand. Or do you deny it?”

“That was many and more years ago, before the Second Sons were led by the Titan’s Bastard.”

“So it is from you they get their courage?” Dany turned to Ser Jorah. “When the battle is joined, kill this one first.”

~

Dany seated herself on a mound of cushions to await them, her dragons all about her. When they were assembled, she said, “An hour past midnight should be time enough.”

“Yes, Khaleesi,” said Rakharo. “Time for what?”

“To mount our attack.”

Ser Jorah Mormont scowled. “You told the sellswords—”

“—that I wanted their answers on the morrow. I made no promises about tonight. The Stormcrows will be arguing about my offer. The Second Sons will be drunk on the wine I gave Mero. And the Yunkai’i believe they have three days. We will take them under cover of this darkness.”

“They will have scouts watching for us.”

“And in the dark, they will see hundreds of campfires burning,” said Dany. “If they see anything at all.”

“Khaleesi,” said Jhogo, “I will deal with these scouts. They are no riders, only slavers on horses.”

“Just so,” she agreed. “I think we should attack from three sides. Grey Worm, your Unsullied shall strike at them from right and left, while my kos lead my horse in wedge for a thrust through their center. Slave soldiers will never stand before mounted Dothraki.” She smiled. “To be sure, I am only a young girl and know little of war. What do you think, my lords?”

“I think you are Rhaegar Targaryen’s sister,” Ser Jorah said with a rueful half smile.

“Aye,” said Arstan Whitebeard, “and a queen as well.”    

~

“A spy?” That frightened her. If they’d caught one, how many others might have gotten away?

~

Dany was dubious. If this Tyroshi had come to spy, this declaration might be no more than a desperate plot to save his head.

~

“Keep this one here under guard until the battle’s fought and won.”

She considered a moment, then shook her head. “If he can give us the Stormcrows, surprise is certain.”

“And if he betrays you, surprise is lost.”

Dany looked down at the sellsword again. He gave her such a smile that she flushed and turned away. “He won’t.”

“How can you know that?”

She pointed to the lumps of blackened flesh the dragons were consuming, bite by bloody bite. “I would call that proof of his sincerity. Daario Naharis, have your Stormcrows ready to strike the Yunkish rear when my attack begins. Can you get back safely?”

“If they stop me, I will say I have been scouting, and saw nothing.” The Tyroshi rose to his feet, bowed, and swept out.

~

The exile knight went to one knee before Dany and said, “Your Grace, I bring you victory. The Stormcrows turned their cloaks, the slaves broke, and the Second Sons were too drunk to fight, just as you said. Two hundred dead, Yunkai’i for the most part. Their slaves threw down their spears and ran, and their sellswords yielded. We have several thousand captives.”

“Our own losses?”

“A dozen. If that many.”

Only then did she allow herself to smile.

ASOS Daenerys III

She had chosen a Qartheen gown today. The deep violet silk brought out the purple of her eyes. The cut of it bared her left breast. While the Good Masters of Astapor conferred among themselves in low voices, Dany sipped tart persimmon wine from a tall silver flute. She could not quite make out all that they were saying, but she could hear the greed.

Each of the eight brokers was attended by two or three body slaves ... though one Grazdan, the eldest, had six. So as not to seem a beggar, Dany had brought her own attendants; Irri and Jhiqui in their sandsilk trousers and painted vests, old Whitebeard and mighty Belwas, her bloodriders. Ser Jorah stood behind her sweltering in his green surcoat with the black bear of Mormont embroidered upon it. The smell of his sweat was an earthy answer to the sweet perfumes that drenched the Astapori.

~

Dany let them argue, sipping the tart persimmon wine and trying to keep her face blank and ignorant. I will have them all, no matter the price, she told herself. The city had a hundred slave traders, but the eight before her were the greatest. When selling bed slaves, fieldhands, scribes, craftsmen, and tutors, these men were rivals, but their ancestors had allied one with the other for the purpose of making and selling the Unsullied. Brick and blood built Astapor, and brick and blood her people.

~

“Tell them I await their answer.”

She knew the answer, though; she could see it in the glitter of their eyes and the smiles they tried so hard to hide. Astapor had thousands of eunuchs, and even more slave boys waiting to be cut, but there were only three living dragons in all the great wide world. And the Ghiscari lust for dragons. How could they not? Five times had Old Ghis contended with Valyria when the world was young, and five times gone down to bleak defeat. For the Freehold had dragons, and the Empire had none.

~

Dany turned away from him, to the slave girl standing meekly beside her litter. “Do you have a name, or must you draw a new one every day from some barrel?”

“That is only for Unsullied,” the girl said. Then she realized the question had been asked in High Valyrian. Her eyes went wide. “Oh.”

~

“If I did resell them, how would I know they could not be used against me?” Dany asked pointedly. “Would they do that? Fight against me, even do me harm?”

“If their master commanded. They do not question, Your Grace. All the questions have been culled from them. They obey.” She looked troubled. “When you are ... when you are done with them ... your Grace might command them to fall upon their swords.”

“And even that, they would do?”


“Yes.” Missandei’s voice had grown soft. “Your Grace.”

Dany squeezed her hand. “You would sooner I did not ask it of them, though. Why is that? Why do you care?”

“This one does not ... I ... Your Grace ... ”


“Tell me.”


The girl lowered her eyes. “Three of them were my brothers once, Your Grace.”

Then I hope your brothers are as brave and clever as you.

~

The rest of her people followed: Groleo and the other captains and their crews, and the eighty-three Dothraki who remained to her of the hundred thousand who had once ridden in Drogo’s khalasar. She put the oldest and weakest on the inside of the column, with the nursing women and those with child, and the little girls, and the boys too young to braid their hair. The rest—her warriors, such as they were—rode outside and moved their dismal herd along, the hundred-odd gaunt horses that had survived both red waste and black salt sea.

~

I ought to have a banner sewn, she thought as she led her tattered band up along Astapor’s meandering river. She closed her eyes to imagine how it would look: all flowing black silk, and on it the red three-headed dragon of Targaryen, breathing golden flames. A banner such as Rhaegar might have borne.

~

At first glimpse, Dany thought their skin was striped like the zorses of the Jogos Nhai.

~

Dany handed the slaver the end of Drogon’s chain. In return he presented her with the whip. The handle was black dragonbone, elaborately carved and inlaid with gold. Nine long thin leather lashes trailed from it, each one tipped by a gilded claw. The gold pommel was a woman’s head, with pointed ivory teeth. “The harpy’s fingers,” Kraznys named the scourge.

Dany turned the whip in her hand. Such a light thing, to bear such weight. “Is it done, then? Do they belong to me?”

“It is done,” he agreed, giving the chain a sharp pull to bring Drogon down from the litter.

Dany mounted her silver. She could feel her heart thumping in her chest. She felt desperately afraid. Was this what my brother would have done? She wondered if Prince Rhaegar had been this anxious when he saw the Usurper’s host formed up across the Trident with all their banners floating on the wind.

She stood in her stirrups and raised the harpy’s fingers above her head for all the Unsullied to see. “IT IS DONE!” she cried at the top of her lungs. “YOU ARE MINE!” She gave the mare her heels and galloped along the first rank, holding the fingers high. “YOU ARE THE DRAGON’S NOW! YOU’RE BOUGHT AND PAID FOR! IT IS DONE! IT IS DONE!”

She glimpsed old Grazdan turn his grey head sharply. He hears me speak Valyrian. The other slavers were not listening. They crowded around Kraznys and the dragon, shouting advice. Though the Astapori yanked and tugged, Drogon would not budge off the litter. Smoke rose grey from his open jaws, and his long neck curled and straightened as he snapped at the slaver’s face.

It is time to cross the Trident, Dany thought, as she wheeled and rode her silver back. Her bloodriders moved in close around her. “You are in difficulty,” she observed.

“He will not come,” Kraznys said.

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

The black dragon spread his wings and roared.

A lance of swirling dark flame took Kraznys full in the face. His eyes melted and ran down his cheeks, and the oil in his hair and beard burst so fiercely into fire that for an instant the slaver wore a burning crown twice as tall as his head. The sudden stench of charred meat overwhelmed even his perfume, and his wail seemed to drown all other sound.

Then the Plaza of Punishment blew apart into blood and chaos. The Good Masters were shrieking, stumbling, shoving one another aside and tripping over the fringes of their tokars in their haste. Drogon flew almost lazily at Kraznys, black wings beating. As he gave the slaver another taste of fire, Irri and Jhiqui unchained Viserion and Rhaegal, and suddenly there were three dragons in the air. When Dany turned to look, a third of Astapor’s proud demon-horned warriors were fighting to stay atop their terrified mounts, and another third were fleeing in a bright blaze of shiny copper. One man kept his saddle long enough to draw a sword, but Jhogo’s whip coiled about his neck and cut off his shout. Another lost a hand to Rakharo’s arakh and rode off reeling and spurting blood. Aggo sat calmly notching arrows to his bowstring and sending them at tokars. Silver, gold, or plain, he cared nothing for the fringe. Strong Belwas had his arakh out as well, and he spun it as he charged.

“Spears!” Dany heard one Astapori shout. It was Grazdan, old Grazdan in his tokar heavy with pearls. “Unsullied! Defend us, stop them, defend your masters! Spears! Swords!”

When Rakharo put an arrow through his mouth, the slaves holding his sedan chair broke and ran, dumping him unceremoniously on the ground. The old man crawled to the first rank of eunuchs, his blood pooling on the bricks. The Unsullied did not so much as look down to watch him die. Rank on rank on rank, they stood.

And did not move. The gods have heard my prayer.

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

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

ASOS Daenerys II

The harpy of Ghis, Dany thought. Old Ghis had fallen five thousand years ago, if she remembered true; its legions shattered by the might of young Valyria, its brick walls pulled down, its streets and buildings turned to ash and cinder by dragonflame, its very fields sown with salt, sulfur, and skulls. The gods of Ghis were dead, and so too its people; these Astapori were mongrels, Ser Jorah said. Even the Ghiscari tongue was largely forgotten; the slave cities spoke the High Valyrian of their conquerors, or what they had made of it.

Yet the symbol of the Old Empire still endured here, though this bronze monster had a heavy chain dangling from her talons, an open manacle at either end. The harpy of Ghis had a thunderbolt in her claws. This is the harpy of Astapor.

~

“They might be adequate to my needs,” Dany answered. It had been Ser Jorah’s suggestion that she speak only Dothraki and the Common Tongue while in Astapor. My bear is more clever than he looks.

~

The girls followed close behind with the silk awning, to keep her in the shade, but the thousand men before her enjoyed no such protection. More than half had the copper skins and almond eyes of Dothraki and Lhazerene, but she saw men of the Free Cities in the ranks as well, along with pale Qartheen, ebon-faced Summer Islanders, and others whose origins she could not guess. And some had skins of the same amber hue as Kraznys mo Nakloz, and the bristly red-black hair that marked the ancient folk of Ghis, who named themselves the harpy’s sons.

~

“The Good Master has said that these eunuchs cannot be tempted with coin or flesh,” Dany told the girl, “but if some enemy of mine should offer them freedom for betraying me ...”

“They would kill him out of hand and bring her his head, tell her that,” the slaver answered. “Other slaves may steal and hoard up silver in hopes of buying freedom, but an Unsullied would not take it if the little mare offered it as a gift. They have no life outside their duty. They are soldiers, and that is all.”

~

“You have lived long in the world, Whitebeard. Now that you have seen them, what do you say?”

“I say no, Your Grace,” the old man answered at once.


“Why?” she asked. “Speak freely.” Dany thought she knew what he would say, but she wanted the slave girl to hear, so Kraznys mo Nakloz might hear later.

~

An old city, this, she reflected, but not so populous as it was in its glory, nor near so crowded as Qarth or Pentos or Lys.

Her litter came to a sudden halt at the cross street, to allow a coffle of slaves to shuffle across her path, urged along by the crack of an overseer’s lash. These were no Unsullied, Dany noted, but a more common sort of men, with pale brown skins and black hair. There were women among them, but no children. All were naked.

~

“You speak of sacking cities. Answer me this, ser—why have the Dothraki never sacked this city?” She pointed. “Look at the walls. You can see where they’ve begun to crumble. There, and there. Do you see any guards on those towers? I don’t. Are they hiding, ser? I saw these sons of the harpy today, all their proud highborn warriors. They dressed in linen skirts, and the fiercest thing about them was their hair. Even a modest khalasar could crack this Astapor like a nut and spill out the rotted meat inside. So tell me, why is that ugly harpy not sitting beside the godsway in Vaes Dothrak among the other stolen gods?”

“You have a dragon’s eye, Khaleesi, that’s plain to see.”

“I wanted an answer, not a compliment.”

“There are two reasons. Astapor’s brave defenders are so much chaff, it’s true. Old names and fat purses who dress up as Ghiscari scourges to pretend they still rule a vast empire. Every one is a high officer. On feastdays they fight mock wars in the pits to demonstrate what brilliant commanders they are, but it’s the eunuchs who do the dying. All the same, any enemy wanting to sack Astapor would have to know that they’d be facing Unsullied. The slavers would turn out the whole garrison in the city’s defense. The Dothraki have not ridden against Unsullied since they left their braids at the gates of Qohor.”

“And the second reason?” Dany asked.

“Who would attack Astapor?” Ser Jorah asked. “Meereen and Yunkai are rivals but not enemies, the Doom destroyed Valyria, the folk of the eastern hinterlands are all Ghiscari, and beyond the hills lies Lhazar. The Lamb Men, as your Dothraki call them, a notably unwarlike people.”

“Yes,” she agreed, “but north of the slave cities is the Dothraki sea, and two dozen mighty khals who like nothing more than sacking cities and carrying off their people into slavery.”

“Carrying them off where? What good are slaves once you’ve killed the slavers? Valyria is no more, Qarth lies beyond the red waste, and the Nine Free Cities are thousands of leagues to the west. And you may be sure the sons of the harpy give lavishly to every passing khal, just as the magisters do in Pentos and Norvos and Myr. They know that if they feast the horselords and give them gifts, they will soon ride on. It’s cheaper than fighting, and a deal more certain.”

ASOS Daenerys I

“His Grace was ... often pleasant.”

“Often?” Dany smiled. “But not always?”


~

[“] A change in the wind may bring the gift of victory.” He glanced at Ser Jorah. “Or a lady’s favor knotted round an arm.”

Mormont’s face darkened. “Be careful what you say, old man.”

Arstan had seen Ser Jorah fight at Lannisport, Dany knew, in the tourney Mormont had won with a lady’s favor knotted round his arm. He had won the lady too; Lynesse of House Hightower, his second wife, highborn and beautiful ... but she had ruined him, and abandoned him, and the memory of her was bitter to him now. “Be gentle, my knight.” She put a hand on Jorah’s arm. “Arstan had no wish to give offense, I’m certain.”

~

“A queen must listen to all,” she reminded him. “The highborn and the low, the strong and the weak, the noble and the venal. One voice may speak you false, but in many there is always truth to be found.” She had read that in a book.

~

“Hear my voice then, Your Grace,” the exile said. “This Arstan Whitebeard is playing you false. He is too old to be a squire, and too well spoken to be serving that oaf of a eunuch.”

That does seem queer, Dany had to admit. Strong Belwas was an ex-slave, bred and trained in the fighting pits of Meereen. Magister Illyrio had sent him to guard her, or so Belwas claimed, and it was true that she needed guarding. The Usurper on his Iron Throne had offered land and lordship to any man who killed her. One attempt had been made already, with a cup of poisoned wine. The closer she came to Westeros, the more likely another attack became. Back in Qarth, the warlock Pyat Pree had sent a Sorrowful Man after her to avenge the Undying she’d burned in their House of Dust. Warlocks never forgot a wrong, it was said, and the Sorrowful Men never failed to kill. Most of the Dothraki would be against her as well. Khal Drogo’s kos led khalasars of their own now, and none of them would hesitate to attack her own little band on sight, to slay and slave her people and drag Dany herself back to Vaes Dothrak to take her proper place among the withered crones of the dosh khaleen. She hoped that Xaro Xhoan Daxos was not an enemy, but the Qartheen merchant had coveted her dragons. And there was Quaithe of the Shadow, that strange woman in the red lacquer mask with all her cryptic counsel. Was she an enemy too, or only a dangerous friend? Dany could not say.

Ser Jorah saved me from the poisoner, and Arstan Whitebeard from the manticore. Perhaps Strong Belwas will save me from the next. He was huge enough, with arms like small trees and a great curved arakh so sharp he might have shaved with it, in the unlikely event of hair sprouting on those smooth brown cheeks. Yet he was childlike as well. As a protector, he leaves much to be desired. Thankfully, I have Ser Jorah and my bloodriders. And my dragons, never forget.

~

She took a chunk of salt pork out of the bowl in her lap and held it up for her dragons to see. All three of them eyed it hungrily. Rhaegal spread green wings and stirred the air, and Viserion’s neck swayed back and forth like a long pale snake’s as he followed the movement of her hand. “Drogon,” Dany said softly, “dracarys.” And she tossed the pork in the air.

Drogon moved quicker than a striking cobra. Flame roared from his mouth, orange and scarlet and black, searing the meat before it began to fall. As his sharp black teeth snapped shut around it, Rhaegal’s head darted close, as if to steal the prize from his brother’s jaws, but Drogon swallowed and screamed, and the smaller green dragon could only hiss in frustration.

“Stop that, Rhaegal,” Dany said in annoyance, giving his head a swat.

“You had the last one. I’ll have no greedy dragons.” She smiled at Ser Jorah. “I won’t need to char their meat over a brazier any longer.”

“So I see. Dracarys?”

All three dragons turned their heads at the sound of that word, and Viserion let loose with a blast of pale gold flame that made Ser Jorah take a hasty step backward. Dany giggled. “Be careful with that word, ser, or they’re like to singe your beard off. It means ‘dragonfire’ in High Valyrian. I wanted to choose a command that no one was like to utter by chance.”

~

“It seems to me that a queen who trusts no one is as foolish as a queen who trusts everyone. Every man I take into my service is a risk, I understand that, but how am I to win the Seven Kingdoms without such risks? Am I to conquer Westeros with one exile knight and three Dothraki bloodriders?”

~

“What is there for me in Slaver’s Bay?”

“An army,” said Ser Jorah. “If Strong Belwas is so much to your liking you can buy hundreds more like him out of the fighting pits of Meereen ... but it is Astapor I’d set my sails for. In Astapor you can buy Unsullied.”

[...] “That is what you will find in Astapor, Your Grace. Put ashore there, and continue on to Pentos overland. It will take longer, yes ... but when you break bread with Magister Illyrio, you will have a thousand swords behind you, not just four.”

There is wisdom in this, yes, Dany thought, but ... “How am I to buy a thousand slave soldiers? All I have of value is the crown the Tourmaline Brotherhood gave me.”

“Dragons will be as great a wonder in Astapor as they were in Qarth. It may be that the slavers will shower you with gifts, as the Qartheen did. If not ... these ships carry more than your Dothraki and their horses. They took on trade goods at Qarth, I’ve been through the holds and seen for myself. Bolts of silk and bales of tiger skin, amber and jade carvings, saffron, myrrh ... slaves are cheap, Your Grace. Tiger skins are costly.”

“Those are Illyrio’s tiger skins,” she objected. 

“And Illyrio is a friend to House Targaryen.” 

“All the more reason not to steal his goods.”

“What use are wealthy friends if they will not put their wealth at your disposal, my queen? If Magister Illyrio would deny you, he is only Xaro Xhoan Daxos with four chins. And if he is sincere in his devotion to your cause, he will not begrudge you three shiploads of trade goods. What better use for his tiger skins than to buy you the beginnings of an army?”

That’s true. Dany felt a rising excitement. “There will be dangers on such a long march ...”

“There are dangers at sea as well. Corsairs and pirates hunt the southern route, and north of Valyria the Smoking Sea is demon- haunted. The next storm could sink or scatter us, a kraken could pull us under ... or we might find ourselves becalmed again, and die of thirst as we wait for the wind to rise. A march will have different dangers, my queen, but none greater.”

“What if Captain Groleo refuses to change course, though? And Arstan, Strong Belwas, what will they do?”

Ser Jorah stood. “Perhaps it’s time you found that out.”

“Yes,” she decided. “I’ll do it!”

A Clash of Kings

ACOK Daenerys V

Pale men in dusty linen skirts stood beneath arched doorways to watch them pass. They know who I am, and they do not love me. Dany could tell from the way they looked at her.

~

“...Give me a son, my sweet song of joy!”

Give you a dragon, you mean. “I will not wed you, Xaro.”

His face had grown cold at that. “Then go.”

“But where?”

“Somewhere far from here.”

~

Perhaps she had lingered in Qarth too long, seduced by its comforts and its beauties. It was a city that always promised more than it would give you, it seemed to her, and her welcome here had turned sour since the House of the Undying had collapsed in a great gout of smoke and flame. Overnight the Qartheen had come to remember that dragons were dangerous. No longer did they vie with each other to give her gifts. Instead the Tourmaline Brotherhood had called openly for her expulsion, and the Ancient Guild of Spicers for her death. It was all Xaro could do to keep the Thirteen from joining them.

~

Xaro Xhoan Daxos would be no help to her, she knew that now. For all his professions of devotion, he was playing his own game, not unlike Pyat Pree. The night he asked her to leave, Dany had begged one last favor of him. “An army, is it?” Xaro asked. “A kettle of gold? A galley, perhaps?”

Dany blushed. She hated begging. “A ship, yes.”

Xaro’s eyes had glittered as brightly as the jewels in his nose. “I am a trader, Khaleesi. So perhaps we should speak no more of giving, but rather of trade. For one of your dragons, you shall have ten of the finest ships in my fleet. You need only say that one sweet word.”

“No,” she said.

“Alas,” Xaro sobbed, “that was not the word I meant.”

“Would you ask a mother to sell one of her children?”

“Whyever not? They can always make more. Mothers sell their children every day.”

“Not the Mother of Dragons.”

“Not even for twenty ships?”

“Not for a hundred.”

His mouth curled downward. “I do not have a hundred. But you have three dragons. Grant me one, for all my kindnesses. You will still have two and thirty ships as well.”

Thirty ships would be enough to land a small army on the shore of Westeros. But I do not have a small army. “How many ships do you own, Xaro?”

“Eighty-three, if one does not count my pleasure barge.” “And your colleagues in the Thirteen?”
“Among us all, perhaps a thousand.”
“And the Spicers and the Tourmaline Brotherhood?” “Their trifling fleets are of no account.”

“Even so,” she said, “tell me.”

“Twelve or thirteen hundred for the Spicers. No more than eight hundred for the Brotherhood.”

“And the Asshai’i, the Braavosi, the Summer Islanders, the Ibbenese, and all the other peoples who sail the great salt sea, how many ships do they have? All together?”

“Many and more,” he said irritably. “What does this matter?”

“I am trying to set a price on one of the three living dragons in the world.” Dany smiled at him sweetly. “It seems to me that one-third of all the ships in the world would be fair.”

Xaro’s tears ran down his cheeks on either side of his jewel-encrusted nose. “Did I not warn you not to enter the Palace of Dust? This is the very thing I feared. The whispers of the warlocks have made you as mad as Mallarawan’s wife. A third of all the ships in the world? Pah. Pah, I say. Pah.”

Dany had not seen him since. His seneschal brought her messages, each cooler than the last. She must quit his house. He was done feeding her and her people. He demanded the return of his gifts, which she had accepted in bad faith. Her only consolation was that at least she’d had the great good sense not to marry him.

~

Dany would get no help from the Thirteen, the Tourmaline Brotherhood, or the Ancient Guild of Spicers.

~

The Usurper offered a lordship to the man who kills me, and these two are far from home. Or could they be creatures of the warlocks, meant to take me unawares?

~

“A most excellent brass, great lady,” the merchant exclaimed. “Bright as the sun! And for the Mother of Dragons, only thirty honors.”

The platter was worth no more than three. “Where are my guards?” Dany declared. “This man is trying to rob me!”

~

“Thirty? Did I say thirty? Such a fool I am. The price is twenty honors.”

“All the brass in this booth is not worth twenty honors,” Dany told him as she studied the reflections.

~

“Ten, Khaleesi, because you are so lovely. Use it for a looking glass. Only brass this fine could capture such beauty.”

“It might serve to carry nightsoil. If you threw it away, I might pick it up, so long as I did not need to stoop. But pay for it?” Dany shoved the platter back into his hands. “Worms have crawled up your nose and eaten your wits.”

“Eight honors,” he cried. “My wives will beat me and call me fool, but I am a helpless child in your hands. Come, eight, that is less than it is worth.”

“What do I need with dull brass when Xaro Xhoan Daxos feeds me off plates of gold?”

~

The brass merchant came hopping after them. “Five honors, for five it is yours, it was meant for you.”

~

The other man wore a traveler’s cloak of undyed wool, the hood thrown back. Long white hair fell to his shoulders, and a silky white beard covered the lower half of his face. He leaned his weight on a hardwood staff as tall as he was. Only fools would stare so openly if they meant me harm. All the same, it might be prudent to head back toward Jhogo and Aggo. “The old man does not wear a sword,” she said to Jorah in the Common Tongue as she drew him away.

~

“Four! I know you want it!” He danced in front of them, scampering backward as he thrust the platter at their faces.

~

“Two honors! Two! Two!” The merchant was panting heavily from the effort of running backward.

“Pay him before he kills himself,” Dany told Ser Jorah, wondering what she was going to do with a huge brass platter.

~

“Put down your steel! Stop it!”

“Your Grace?” Mormont lowered his sword only an inch. “These men attacked you.”

“They were defending me.” Dany snapped her hand to shake the sting from her fingers. “It was the other one, the Qartheen.” When she looked around he was gone. “He was a Sorrowful Man. There was a manticore in that jewel box he gave me. This man knocked it out of my hand.”

~

“We were told to find you and bring you back to Pentos. The Seven Kingdoms have need of you. Robert the Usurper is dead, and the realm bleeds. When we set sail from Pentos there were four kings in the land, and no justice to be had.”

Joy bloomed in her heart, but Dany kept it from her face.

ACOK Daenerys III

She was garbed after the Qartheen fashion. Xaro had warned her that the Enthroned would never listen to a Dothraki, so she had taken care to go before them in flowing green samite with one breast bared, silvered sandals on her feet, with a belt of black-and-white pearls about her waist. For all the help they offered, I could have gone naked. Perhaps I should have. She drank deep.

~

Descendants of the ancient kings and queens of Qarth, the Pureborn commanded the Civic Guard and the fleet of ornate galleys that ruled the straits between the seas. Daenerys Targaryen had wanted that fleet, or part of it, and some of their soldiers as well. She made the traditional sacrifice in the Temple of Memory, offered the traditional bribe to the Keeper of the Long List, sent the traditional persimmon to the Opener of the Door, and finally received the traditional blue silk slippers summoning her to the Hall of a Thousand Thrones.

~

“Come with me to the Arbor, Xaro, and you’ll have the finest vintages you ever tasted. But we’ll need to go in a warship, not a pleasure barge.”

“I have no warships. War is bad for trade. Many times I have told you, Xaro Xhoan Daxos is a man of peace.”

Xaro Xhoan Daxos is a man of gold, she thought, and gold will buy me all the ships and swords I need. “I have not asked you to take up a sword, only to lend me your ships.”

He smiled modestly. “Of trading ships I have a few, that is so. Who can say how many? One may be sinking even now, in some stormy corner of the Summer Sea. On the morrow, another will fall afoul of corsairs. The next day, one of my captains may look at the wealth in his hold and think, All this should belong to me. Such are the perils of trade. Why, the longer we talk, the fewer ships I am likely to have. I grow poorer by the instant.”

“Give me ships, and I will make you rich again.”

“Marry me, bright light, and sail the ship of my heart. I cannot sleep at night for thinking of your beauty.”

Dany smiled. Xaro’s flowery protestations of passion amused her, but his manner was at odds with his words. While Ser Jorah had scarcely been able to keep his eyes from her bare breast when he’d helped her into the palanquin, Xaro hardly deigned to notice it, even in these close confines. And she had seen the beautiful boys who surrounded the merchant prince, flitting through his palace halls in wisps of silk. “You speak sweetly, Xaro, but under your words I hear another no.”

~

“The Milk Men shun him. Khaleesi, do you see the girl in the felt hat? There, behind the fat priest. She is a—”

“—cutpurse,” finished Dany. She was no pampered lady, blind to such things. She had seen cutpurses aplenty in the streets of the Free Cities, during the years she’d spent with her brother, running from the Usurper’s hired knives.

~

Dany looked uneasily at where the ladder had stood. Even the smoke was gone now, and the crowd was breaking up, each man going about his business. In a moment more than a few would find their purses flat and empty.

ACOK Daenerys II

“Qarth is the greatest city that ever was or ever will be,” Pyat Pree had told her, back amongst the bones of Vaes Tolorro. [...]

Dany took the warlock’s words well salted, but the magnificence of the great city was not to be denied.

~

“I do not understand her.” Pyat and Xaro had showered Dany with promises from the moment they first glimpsed her dragons, declaring themselves her loyal servants in all things, but from Quaithe she had gotten only the rare cryptic word. And it disturbed her that she had never seen the woman’s face. Remember Mirri Maz Duur, she told herself. Remember treachery. She turned to her bloodriders. “We will keep our own watch so long as we are here. See that no one enters this wing of the palace without my leave, and take care that the dragons are always well guarded.”

“It shall be done, Khaleesi,” Aggo said.

“We have seen only the parts of Qarth that Pyat Pree wished us to see,” she went on. “Rakharo, go forth and look on the rest, and tell me what you find. Take good men with you—and women, to go places where men are forbidden.”

“As you say, I do, blood of my blood,” said Rakharo.

~

“Ser Jorah, find the docks and see what manner of ships lay at anchor. It has been half a year since I last heard tidings from the Seven Kingdoms. Perhaps the gods will have blown some good captain here from Westeros with a ship to carry us home.”

The knight frowned. “That would be no kindness. The Usurper will kill you, sure as sunrise.” Mormont hooked his thumbs through his swordbelt. “My place is here at your side.”

“Jhogo can guard me as well. You have more languages than my bloodriders, and the Dothraki mistrust the sea and those who sail her. Only you can serve me in this. Go among the ships and speak to the crews, learn where they are from and where they are bound and what manner of men command them.”

~

“Khaleesi,” the knight said when they were alone, “I should not speak so freely of your plans, if I were you. This man will spread the tale wherever he goes now.”

“Let him,” she said. “Let the whole world know my purpose. The Usurper is dead, what does it matter?”

“Not every sailor’s tale is true,” Ser Jorah cautioned, “and even if Robert be truly dead, his son rules in his place. This changes nothing, truly.”

“This changes everything.” Dany rose abruptly. Screeching, her dragons uncoiled and spread their wings. Drogon flapped and clawed up to the lintel over the archway. The others skittered across the floor, wingtips scrabbling on the marble. “Before, the Seven Kingdoms were like my Drogo’s khalasar, a hundred thousand made as one by his strength. Now they fly to pieces, even as the khalasar did after my khal lay dead.”

“The high lords have always fought. Tell me who’s won and I’ll tell you what it means. Khaleesi, the Seven Kingdoms are not going to fall into your hands like so many ripe peaches. You will need a fleet, gold, armies, alliances—”

“All this I know.” She took his hands in hers and looked up into his dark suspicious eyes.

Sometimes he thinks of me as a child he must protect, and sometimes as a woman he would like to bed, but does he ever truly see me as his queen? “I am not the frightened girl you met in Pentos. I have counted only fifteen name days, true ... but I am as old as the crones in the dosh khaleen and as young as my dragons, Jorah. I have borne a child, burned a khal, and crossed the red waste and the Dothraki sea. Mine is the blood of the dragon.”

“As was your brother’s,” he said stubbornly.

“I am not Viserys.”

“No,” he admitted. “There is more of Rhaegar in you, I think, but even Rhaegar could be slain. Robert proved that on the Trident, with no more than a warhammer. Even dragons can die.”

“Dragons die.” She stood on her toes to kiss him lightly on an unshaven cheek. “But so do dragonslayers.”

ACOK Daenerys I

She dare not turn north onto the vast ocean of grass they called the Dothraki sea. The first khalasar they met would swallow up her ragged band, slaying the warriors and slaving the rest. The lands of the Lamb Men south of the river were likewise closed to them. They were too few to defend themselves even against that unwarlike folk, and the Lhazareen had small reason to love them. She might have struck downriver for the ports at Meereen and Yunkai and Astapor, but Rakharo warned her that Pono’s khalasar had ridden that way, driving thousands of captives before them to sell in the flesh marts that festered like open sores on the shores of Slaver’s Bay.

~

“Ghosts,” Irri muttered. “Terrible ghosts. We must not stay here, Khaleesi, this is their place.”

“I fear no ghosts. Dragons are more powerful than ghosts.” And figs are more important. 

~

“...Nothing mattered but our love, I told myself. We fled to Lys, where I sold my ship for gold to keep us.”

His voice was thick with grief, and Dany was reluctant to press him any further, yet she had to know how it ended. “Did she die there?” she asked him gently.

~

“What shall we seek, Khaleesi?” asked Jhogo.

“Whatever there is,” Dany answered. “Seek for other cities, living and dead. Seek for caravans and people. Seek for rivers and lakes and the great salt sea. Find how far this waste extends before us, and what lies on the other side. When I leave this place, I do not mean to strike out blind again. I will know where I am bound, and how best to get there.”

~

Dany gave him charge of a dozen of her strongest men, and set them to pulling up the plaza to get to the earth beneath. If devilgrass could grow between the paving stones, other grasses would grow when the stones were gone. They had wells enough, no lack of water. Given seed, they could make the plaza bloom.

~

Dany thanked him and told him to see to the repair of the gates. If enemies had crossed the waste to destroy these cities in ancient days, they might well come again. “If so, we must be ready,” she declared.

A Game of Thrones

AGOT Daenerys X

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

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

“I will,” Dany said, “but it is not your screams I want, only your life. I remember what you told me. Only death can pay for life.” Mirri Maz Duur opened her mouth, but made no reply. As she stepped away, Dany saw that the contempt was gone from the maegi’s flat black eyes; in its place was something that might have been fear. Then there was nothing to be done but watch the sun and look for the first star.

When a horselord dies, his horse is slain with him, so he might ride proud into the night lands. The bodies are burned beneath the open sky, and the khal rises on his fiery steed to take his place among the stars. The more fiercely the man burned in life, the brighter his star will shine in the darkness.

Jhogo spied it first. “There,” he said in a hushed voice. Dany looked and saw it, low in the east. The first star was a comet, burning red. Bloodred; fire red; the dragon’s tail. She could not have asked for a stronger sign.

~

She had sensed the truth of it long ago, Dany thought as she took a step closer to the conflagration, but the brazier had not been hot enough. The flames writhed before her like the women who had danced at her wedding, whirling and singing and spinning their yellow and orange and crimson veils, fearsome to behold, yet lovely, so lovely, alive with heat. Dany opened her arms to them, her skin flushed and glowing. This is a wedding, too, she thought. Mirri Maz Duur had fallen silent. The godswife thought her a child, but children grow, and children learn.

[...] Now, she thought, now, and for an instant she glimpsed Khal Drogo before her, mounted on his smoky stallion, a flaming lash in his hand. He smiled, and the whip snaked down at the pyre, hissing.

She heard a crack, the sound of shattering stone. The platform of wood and brush and grass began to shift and collapse in upon itself. Bits of burning wood slid down at her, and Dany was showered with ash and cinders. And something else came crashing down, bouncing and rolling, to land at her feet; a chunk of curved rock, pale and veined with gold, broken and smoking. The roaring filled the world, yet dimly through the firefall Dany heard women shriek and children cry out in wonder.

Only death can pay for life.

And there came a second crack, loud and sharp as thunder, and the smoke stirred and whirled around her and the pyre shifted, the logs exploding as the fire touched their secret hearts. She heard the screams of frightened horses, and the voices of the Dothraki raised in shouts of fear and terror, and Ser Jorah calling her name and cursing. No, she wanted to shout to him, no, my good knight, do not fear for me. The fire is mine. I am Daenerys Stormborn, daughter of dragons, bride of dragons, mother of dragons, don’t you see? Don’t you SEE? With a belch of flame and smoke that reached thirty feet into the sky, the pyre collapsed and came down around her. Unafraid, Dany stepped forward into the firestorm, calling to her children.

The third crack was as loud and sharp as the breaking of the world.

When the fire died at last and the ground became cool enough to walk upon, Ser Jorah Mormont found her amidst the ashes, surrounded by blackened logs and bits of glowing ember and the burnt bones of man and woman and stallion. She was naked, covered with soot, her clothes turned to ash, her beautiful hair all crisped away ... yet she was unhurt.

The cream-and-gold dragon was suckling at her left breast, the green-and-bronze at the right. Her arms cradled them close. The black-and-scarlet beast was draped across her shoulders, its long sinuous neck coiled under her chin. When it saw Jorah, it raised its head and looked at him with eyes as red as coals.

Wordless, the knight fell to his knees. The men of her khas came up behind him. Jhogo was the first to lay his arakh at her feet. “Blood of my blood,” he murmured, pushing his face to the smoking earth. “Blood of my blood,” she heard Aggo echo. “Blood of my blood,” Rakharo shouted.

And after them came her handmaids, and then the others, all the Dothraki, men and women and children, and Dany had only to look at their eyes to know that they were hers now, today and tomorrow and forever, hers as they had never been Drogo’s.

As Daenerys Targaryen rose to her feet, her black hissed, pale smoke venting from its mouth and nostrils. The other two pulled away from her breasts and added their voices to the call, translucent wings unfolding and stirring the air, and for the first time in hundreds of years, the night came alive with the music of dragons.

AGOT Daenerys IX

“The khal lives,” Irri answered quietly ... yet Dany saw a darkness in her eyes when she said the words, and no sooner had she spoken than she rushed away to fetch water.

~

My son is dead, she thought as Jhiqui left the tent. She had known somehow. She had known since she woke the first time to Jhiqui’s tears. No, she had known before she woke. Her dream came back to her, sudden and vivid, and she remembered the tall man with the copper skin and long silver-gold braid, bursting into flame.

She should weep, she knew, yet her eyes were dry as ash. She had wept in her dream, and the tears had turned to steam on her cheeks. All the grief has been burned out of me, she told herself. She felt sad, and yet ... she could feel Rhaego receding from her, as if he had never been.

~

“Princess, are you well? Should you be up, weak as you are?”

“Weak? I am strong, Jorah.” To please him, she reclined on a pile of cushions. “Tell me how my child died.”

“He never lived, my princess. The women say ...” He faltered, and Dany saw how the flesh hung loose on him, and the way he limped when he moved.

“Tell me. Tell me what the women say.”
[...]

“They say the child was ...”

[...] “Monstrous,” Mirri Maz Duur finished for him. The knight was a powerful man, yet Dany understood in that moment that the maegi was stronger, and crueler, and infinitely more dangerous.

AGOT Daenerys VIII

“We have ridden far enough today. We will camp here.”

“Here?” Haggo looked around them. The land was brown and sere, inhospitable. “This is no camping ground.”

“It is not for a woman to bid us halt,” said Qotho, “not even a khaleesi.”

“We camp here,” Dany repeated. “Haggo, tell them Khal Drogo commanded the halt. If any ask why, say to them that my time is near and I could not continue. Cohollo, bring up the slaves, they must put up the khal’s tent at once. Qotho—”

~

Irri wanted to leave the tent flaps open to let in the breeze, but Dany forbade it. She would not have any see Drogo this way, in delirium and weakness. When her khas came up, she posted them outside at guard. “Admit no one without my leave,” she told Jhogo. “No one.”

~

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

Trembling, her eyes full of sudden tears, Dany turned away from them. He fell from his horse! It was so, she had seen it, and the bloodriders, and no doubt her handmaids and the men of her khas as well. And how many more? They could not keep it secret, and Dany knew what that meant. A khal who could not ride could not rule, and Drogo had fallen from his horse.

~

Mirri Maz Duur had no use for the carcass. “Burn it,” Dany told them. It was what they did, she knew. When a man died, his mount was killed and placed beneath him on the funeral pyre, to carry him to the night lands. The men of her khas dragged the carcass from the tent.

~

“Take her to the maegi.”

No, Dany wanted to say, no, not that, you mustn’t, but when she opened her mouth, a long wail of pain escaped, and the sweat broke over her skin. What was wrong with them, couldn’t they see? Inside the tent the shapes were dancing, circling the brazier and the bloody bath, dark against the sandsilk, and some did not look human. She glimpsed the shadow of a great wolf, and another like a man wreathed in flames.

[...] No, she shouted, or perhaps she only thought it, for no whisper of sound escaped her lips. She was being carried. Her eyes opened to gaze up at a flat dead sky, black and bleak and starless. Please, no. The sound of Mirri Maz Duur’s voice grew louder, until it filled the world. The shapes! she screamed. The dancers!

Ser Jorah carried her inside the tent.

AGOT Daenerys VII

They were suspicious of her, she realized with sadness; afraid that she had saved them for some worse fate.

~

“Why should you want to help my khal?”


“All men are one flock, or so we are taught,” replied Mirri Maz Duur.

~

Drogo put a huge hand on her shoulder. She took some of his weight as they walked toward the great mud temple. The three bloodriders followed. Dany commanded Ser Jorah and the warriors of her khas to guard the entrance and make certain no one set the building afire while they were still inside.

AGOT Daenerys VI

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.

~

“I would still like to taste that summerwine you spoke of.”

The man bounded to his feet. “That? Dornish swill. It is not worthy of a princess. I have a dry red from the Arbor, crisp and delectable. Please, let me give you a cask.”

Khal Drogo’s visits to the Free Cities had given him a taste for good wine, and Dany knew that such a noble vintage would please him.

~

“You taste it first.”

“Me?” The man laughed. “I am not worthy of this vintage, my lord. And it’s a poor wine merchant who drinks up his own wares.” His smile was amiable, yet she could see the sheen of sweat on his brow.

“You will drink,” Dany said, cold as ice.

 AGOT Daenerys V

Her handmaids had helped her ready herself for the ceremony. Despite the tender mother’s stomach that had afflicted her these past two moons, Dany had dined on bowls of half-clotted blood to accustom herself to the taste, and Irri made her chew strips of dried horseflesh until her jaws were aching. She had starved herself for a day and a night before the ceremony in the hopes that hunger would help her keep down the raw meat.

~

“Khalakka dothrae mr’anha!” she proclaimed in her best Dothraki. A prince rides inside me! She had practiced the phrase for days with her handmaid Jhiqui.

~

Khal Drogo laid his hand on Dany’s arm. She could feel the tension in his fingers. Even a khal as mighty as Drogo could know fear when the dosh khaleen peered into smoke of the future. At her back, her handmaids fluttered anxiously.

~

The Dothraki eyed the sword as he passed; Dany heard curses and threats and angry muttering rising all around her, like a tide.

~

There were five thousand men in the hall, but only a handful who knew the Common Tongue. Yet even if his words were incomprehensible, you had only to look at him to know that he was drunk.

~

Her brother drew his sword.

[...] Dany gave a wordless cry of terror. She knew what a drawn sword meant here, even if her brother did not.

AGOT Daenerys IV

Viserys was less impressed. “The trash of dead cities,” he sneered. He was careful to speak in the Common Tongue, which few Dothraki could understand, yet even so Dany found herself glancing back at the men of her khas, to make certain he had not been overheard. He went on blithely. “All these savages know how to do is steal the things better men have built ... and kill.” He laughed. “They do know how to kill. Otherwise I’d have no use for them at all.”

“They are my people now,” Dany said. “You should not call them savages, brother.”

“The dragon speaks as he likes,” Viserys said ... in the Common Tongue.

~

“The princess must be presented to the dosh khaleen ...”

“The crones, yes,” her brother interrupted, “and there’s to be some mummer’s show of a prophecy for the whelp in her belly, you told me. What is that to me? I’m tired of eating horsemeat and I’m sick of the stink of these savages.” He sniffed at the wide, floppy sleeve of his tunic, where it was his custom to keep a sachet. It could not have helped much. The tunic was filthy. All the silk and heavy wools that Viserys had worn out of Pentos were stained by hard travel and rotted from sweat.

AGOT Daenerys III

The khal had commanded the handmaid Irri to teach Dany to ride in the Dothraki fashion, but it was the filly who was her real teacher. The horse seemed to know her moods, as if they shared a single mind. With every passing day, Dany felt surer in her seat. The Dothraki were a hard and unsentimental people, and it was not their custom to name their animals, so Dany thought of her only as the silver. She had never loved anything so much.

~

“Take his horse,” Dany commanded Ser Jorah. Viserys gaped at her. He could not believe what he was hearing; nor could Dany quite believe what she was saying. Yet the words came. “Let my brother walk behind us back to the khalasar.” Among the Dothraki, the man who does not ride was no man at all, the lowest of the low, without honor or pride. “Let everyone see him as he is.”

~

Dany rode along quietly for a time, working his words like a puzzle box. It went against everything that Viserys had ever told her to think that the people could care so little whether a true king or a usurper reigned over them. Yet the more she thought on Jorah’s words, the more they rang of truth.

[...] “My brother will never take back the Seven Kingdoms,” Dany said. She had known that for a long time, she realized. She had known it all her life. Only she had never let herself say the words, even in a whisper, but now she said them for Jorah Mormont and all the world to hear.

Ser Jorah gave her a measuring look. “You think not.”

“He could not lead an army even if my lord husband gave him one,” Dany said. “He has no coin and the only knight who follows him reviles him as less than a snake. The Dothraki make mock of his weakness. He will never take us home.”

~

Soon there would be laughter, when the men of her khas told the story of what had happened in the grasses today. By the time Viserys came limping back among them, every man, woman, and child in the camp would know him for a walker. There were no secrets in the khalasar.

~

“Have you ever seen a dragon?” she asked as Irri scrubbed her back and Jhiqui sluiced sand from her hair. She had heard that the first dragons had come from the east, from the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai and the islands of the Jade Sea. Perhaps some were still living there, in realms strange and wild.

“Dragons are gone, Khaleesi,” Irri said.

“Dead,” agreed Jhiqui. “Long and long ago.”

Viserys had told her that the last Targaryen dragons had died no more than a century and a half ago, during the reign of Aegon III, who was called the Dragonbane. That did not seem so long ago to Dany. “Everywhere?” she said, disappointed. “Even in the east?” Magic had died in the west when the Doom fell on Valyria and the Lands of the Long Summer, and neither spell-forged steel nor stormsingers nor dragons could hold it back, but Dany had always heard that the east was different. It was said that manticores prowled the islands of the Jade Sea, that basilisks infested the jungles of Yi Ti, that spellsingers, warlocks, and aeromancers practiced their arts openly in Asshai, while shadowbinders and bloodmages worked terrible sorceries in the black of night. Why shouldn’t there be dragons too?

~

They were on the far side of the Dothraki sea when Jhiqui brushed the soft swell of Dany’s stomach with her fingers and said, “Khaleesi, you are with child.”

“I know,” Dany told her.

AGOT Daenerys II

There are no more dragons, Dany thought, staring at her brother, though she did not dare say it aloud.

~

Her brother Viserys gifted her with three handmaids. Dany knew they had cost him nothing; Illyrio no doubt had provided the girls.

~ “I shall treasure them always.” Dany had heard tales of such eggs, but she had never seen one, nor thought to see one. It was a truly magnificent gift, though she knew that Illyrio could afford to be lavish. He had collected a fortune in horses and slaves for his part in selling her to Khal Drogo.

~

A daring she had never known filled Daenerys then, and she gave the filly her head.

The silver horse leapt the flames as if she had wings.

AGOT Daenerys I

Her brother held the gown up for her inspection. “This is beauty. Touch it. Go on. Caress the fabric.”

Dany touched it. The cloth was so smooth that it seemed to run through her fingers like water. She could not remember ever wearing anything so soft. It frightened her. She pulled her hand away. “Is it really mine?”

“A gift from the Magister Illyrio,” Viserys said, smiling. Her brother was in a high mood tonight. “The color will bring out the violet in your eyes. And you shall have gold as well, and jewels of all sorts. Illyrio has promised. Tonight you must look like a princess.”

A princess, Dany thought. She had forgotten what that was like. Perhaps she had never really known. “Why does he give us so much?” she asked. “What does he want from us?” For nigh on half a year, they had lived in the magister’s house, eating his food, pampered by his servants. Dany was thirteen, old enough to know that such gifts seldom come without their price, here in the free city of Pentos.

“Illyrio is no fool,” Viserys said. He was a gaunt young man with nervous hands and a feverish look in his pale lilac eyes. “The magister knows that I will not forget my friends when I come into my throne.”

Dany said nothing. Magister Illyrio was a dealer in spices, gemstones, dragonbone, and other, less savory things. He had friends in all of the Nine Free Cities, it was said, and even beyond, in Vaes Dothrak and the fabled lands beside the Jade Sea. It was also said that he’d never had a friend he wouldn’t cheerfully sell for the right price. Dany listened to the talk in the streets, and she heard these things, but she knew better than to question her brother when he wove his webs of dream. His anger was a terrible thing when roused. Viserys called it “waking the dragon.”

~

Last of all came the collar, a heavy golden torc emblazoned with ancient Valyrian glyphs.

“Now you look all a princess,” the girl said breathlessly when they were done. Dany glanced at her image in the silvered looking glass that Illyrio had so thoughtfully provided. A princess, she thought, but she remembered what the girl had said, how Khal Drogo was so rich even his slaves wore golden collars. She felt a sudden chill, and gooseflesh pimpled her bare arms.

~

Dany could smell the stench of Illyrio’s pallid flesh through his heavy perfumes.

Her brother, sprawled out on his pillows beside her, never noticed. His mind was away across the narrow sea. “We won’t need his whole khalasar,” Viserys said. His fingers toyed with the hilt of his borrowed blade, though Dany knew he had never used a sword in earnest. “Ten thousand, that would be enough, I could sweep the Seven Kingdoms with ten thousand Dothraki screamers. The realm will rise for its rightful king. Tyrell, Redwyne, Darry, Greyjoy, they have no more love for the Usurper than I do. The Dornishmen burn to avenge Elia and her children. And the smallfolk will be with us. They cry out for their king.” He looked at Illyrio anxiously. “They do, don’t they?”

“They are your people, and they love you well,” Magister Illyrio said amiably. “In holdfasts all across the realm, men lift secret toasts to your health while women sew dragon banners and hide them against the day of your return from across the water.” He gave a massive shrug. “Or so my agents tell me.”

Dany had no agents, no way of knowing what anyone was doing or thinking across the narrow sea, but she mistrusted Illyrio’s sweet words as she mistrusted everything about Illyrio. Her brother was nodding eagerly, however. “I shall kill the Usurper myself,” he promised, who had never killed anyone, “as he killed my brother Rhaegar. And Lannister too, the Kingslayer, for what he did to my father.”

“That would be most fitting,” Magister Illyrio said. Dany saw the smallest hint of a smile playing around his full lips, but her brother did not notice. Nodding, he pushed back a curtain and stared off into the night, and Dany knew he was fighting the Battle of the Trident once again.

~

Dany noticed that her brother’s hand was clenched tightly around the hilt of his borrowed sword. He looked almost as frightened as she felt.

~

Magister Illyrio’s words were honey. “Many important men will be at the feast tonight. Such men have enemies. The khal must protect his guests, yourself chief among them, Your Grace. No doubt the Usurper would pay well for your head.”

“Oh, yes,” Viserys said darkly. “He has tried, Illyrio, I promise you that. His hired knives follow us everywhere. I am the last dragon, and he will not sleep easy while I live.”

The palanquin slowed and stopped. The curtains were thrown back, and a slave offered a hand to help Daenerys out. His collar, she noted, was ordinary bronze.

[fuckallthegood0nesweretaken]

The Dove and Her Hound - CH. Thirteen

Title: Dragonstone

Words: 1,100

Warnings: Vulgar language, mentions of character death

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~~~~~~~

It had taken a while, but the Battle of the Bastards was won by Jon. Thousands of men died, including your littlest brother, Rickon. You had watched from the sidelines as Jon rode his horse as hard and as fast as he could to get to Rickon. Right as their fingers were about to touch, an arrow went through Rickon’s chest. You let out a scream and your knuckles turned white from clutching your horse’s reins. A few tense moments passed as Davos readied the men and Jon raced his horse towards Ramsey. You had wanted to fight, but you promised Jon you would stay on the sidelines.

Most of the battle was over when you rode into Winterfell. Jon was punching Ramsey in the face repeatedly and you couldn’t help a satisfied smirk from going on your face. Sansa was standing next to you and her face was impossible to read. There was neither joy nor disgust on her face, but you knew that she was enjoying the sight of Ramsey being beaten. When Jon saw that the two of you were watching him, he stopped. Ramsey looked over and had a stupid grin on his face.

 Calmly, you walked over to them. Jon had gotten up from the ground. Looming over Ramsey, you cocked your head to the side as you looked at him. You had a dangerous glint in your eyes and before anyone could stop you, you stomped on Ramsey’s dick as hard as you could. All the men that were watching gasped and most of them went to protect themselves. Ramsey was now in a fetus position and you knelt down next to him.

 “You are a coward and a cunt. You mutilated Theon, you killed Rickon, and you violated my sister. If I could, I would kill you over and over and over until you were broken and pleading for mercy. Then I would keep killing you,” you hissed. Standing up gracefully, you kicked him again and spat on the ground beside him. You walked over to Sansa and the two of you walked into the castle.

 “That wasn’t very ladylike,” Sansa said.

 “That moment didn’t call for a Lady.” You looked at her from the corner of your eye. When you locked eyes, the both of you started to laugh uncontrollably.

 “D-Did you see the faces of every man?” Sansa said between laughs.

 “That I did. Oh that was great!”

 “I wish I had the courage to do something like that.”

 “You do, love. You have more courage than you think. Most people who went through the things you did wouldn’t be able to make it. But you had the courage and the bravery to power through and get to the silver-lining.” You grabbed her hands. “Just because you don’t see it, doesn’t mean others don’t. You are brave, and strong, and kind.”

 “You really think so?”

 “I do,” you said, kissing her on the forehead. You had to pull her head down to kiss her.

 “Seven Hells!” You exclaimed. “Stop growing! You’re my younger sister, not older. You shouldn’t be taller than me.”

 “I’m not in charge of that, sorry,” Sansa giggled. You smiled and caressed her cheek.

 “Go rest. We’ve got a long day tomorrow.”

 ---

 The next week flew by. There were countless meetings to discuss the fate of some Houses. Ravens were flying in from almost every place in Westeros. There was one from Cersei in King’s Landing, asking Jon to go there and bend the knee; Tyrion sent one from Dragonstone asking Jon to come and meet Daenerys Targaryen; and Samwell Tarly sent a raven from the Citadel, stating that there was Dragonglass at Dragonstone. You knew that Jon was going to accept Tyrion’s offer and travel there. You decided to go with him. When the meeting was over, you walked up to Jon.

 “I’m going with you,” you said.

 “What? No, it’s too dangerous. Too risky.”

 “It is for you as well, don’t deny it. We can both handle ourselves. I’m going and that’s the end of it.”

 Jon looked to argue with him, but you silenced him with a look.

 “Fine,” Jon sighed. “You can come with me. But if things get too testy, I want you to go straight back to Winterfell. Deal?”

 “Deal!”

 ---

 The next day, you and Jon left for White Harbor with Ser Davos. You had packed only a few pair of trousers, one tunic, and your weapons. You were excited and nervous about meeting with Daenerys. Things would either go very wrong and the three of you would be dead before you knew it, or she would agree to help the North in its fight against the White Walkers. Tyrion was her hand and you knew he had a good head on his shoulders, but you weren’t too sure about his Queen. The Targaryen’s could be very unstable. You knew it wasn’t right to judge people based on who their family was, but you felt very uneasy about her.

 It took a few days, but you had finally reached Dragonstone. You took a longboat to the beach and was greeted by Tyrion, a woman, and around ten Dothraki. Walking beside Jon, you faced the Lannister.

 “The bastard of Winterfell and his lovely sister,” Tyrion said. “We weren’t expecting you, my lady.”

 “Dwarf of Casterly Rock. My sister joining us was a last minute decision.”

 “One made by me. I wanted to join my brother to see Dragonstone for myself,” you said with a sweet smile. “It’s as beautiful as I imagined.”

 “Well you are certainly welcome, Lady [y/n],” Tyrion said to you. To Jon he said, “I believe we last saw each other atop the Wall.”

 “You were pissin’ off the edge if I remember right. Picked up some scars along the road?”

 “It’s been a long road. But we’re both still here.” The two of them looked at each other with understanding in their eyes. It really had been a long and painful road.

 “Missandei is the Queen’s most trusted advisor,” Tyrion said, introducing the woman standing next to him.

 “Welcome to Dragonstone. Our Queen knows it was a long journey and appreciates the efforts you have made on her behalf,” Missandei paused. “If you wouldn’t mind handing over your weapons.”

 Jon and you looked at the other and then at Davos. You were very hesitant about handing weapons over. Being unarmed in a foreign place didn’t settle right with you. You knew that Jon felt the same way, but he just smiled and agreed.

 “Of course,” he said.

 Tyrion knew what you were feeling and gave a sympathetic smile in your direction. The Dothraki men walked towards you and you handed your weapons over to them. Your waist and back felt lighter without the extra weight of your bow and two blades. Rolling your shoulders, you looked at Missandei and gave her a small smile, head dipping. She returned the gesture.

 “Please, this way,” she said.

[fedonciadale]

To go South - chapter 40 - Visions

So, here is another chapter of my long fic. We are approaching the end. Creative juices have been flowing lately - And I neglected my ask box, somewhat.... But a girly only has a day of 24 hours not more... Also on AO3. Written from Dany’s PoV which was very hard to write. I think it’s extremely difficult.

A short warning. Dany thinks she is pregnant, but she isn’t. Just for the people who don’t like that particular plot.

Lady Stark had been as good as her word. There had been meat for Drogon and food and clothing for her Unsullied, even something like a feast, if you could call it that. The frugality was certainly overdone, and Dany was sure, that Lady Stark held back, just to drive home her insistence that they had to ration for the winter. But her stomach was tender, and she was grateful for the bland food, that she could keep down. The tension in the great hall had been almost thick enough for her to hold it, but the Northern Lords had been polite enough. Certainly, for someone who had faced down the hatred of the Mereen masters, it was nothing.

Her rooms were a bit too serene for her taste as well. Apparently, Lady Stark had reserved the best room for Dany as was her due, and Lady Stark herself had moved to another part of the castle. Dany had not slept well, though. Her dreams were still haunted by the green flames that had engulfed the Red Keep, the voices that screamed, and her narrow escape on Drogon. It didn’t matter. The Red Keep had collapsed as if the sun had gone down in red and green fire. If I look back, I am lost. The capital was hers, Lady Stark already tried to get in her good graces. When Jon returned, Dany would get her dragon back.

Dany was on her way to the godswood, led by both the Stark ladies. Greyworm was her escort and she was glad about him. Of late, she didn’t like to be alone, and she did not trust the Starks, especially not Arya. Stick her with the pointy end. Jon had insisted it was a joke, but the smaller Stark girl looked fierce.

The godswood was indeed a small wood, the branches were laden with snow. When they passed under the trees, one of the trees shuddered as if he wanted to get rid of his burden and snow fell. It hit Dany at the neck, and she shuddered involuntarily when the cold crept down her back. She tried to picture years and years living in this silent snow. She did not like it. In such a silent wood she could almost hear voices screaming as from afar. Once she had her other dragon back, she would see to it, that Winterfell would burn, and that her insolent nephew would pay for the crime of stealing Rhaegal. She could be patient though. First things first.

They came to a small clearing. In the mid of it was a small pool and a huge tree at the pool, the bark only slightly less white than the snow all around them, the leaves red as a fresh wound. Tendrils of steam rose from the pool like fingers that reached out to the tree. The pool must have a connection to the hot water pools beneath Winterfell.

Brandon Stark sat beside the tree, on a chair with wheels, his legs packed into layers of covers. His face showed no motion when they approached, but his eyes snapped in her direction.

“Bran, this is Daenerys Targaryen,” Arya said.

Dany frowned. She should have introduced me as queen. Missandei would have done that better.

The crippled man, no really, still a boy, by the look of him, nodded and gestured at his legs as if apologizing for not getting up to greet her.

“I am the three-eyed raven.”

Dany gave him one of her dazzling smiles.

“I heard about you.”

“Come here.”

When Dany came closer, his eyes locked onto hers.

“You need to see, but let me explain.”

He took her left hand in his, his hand felt strange, not cold, but not warm either, as if the warm blood stole away when her fingers touched his.

“The future is an ever-shifting stream. What looked like a mighty river months ago, might now be nothing more than a small rivulet. What today looks not likely to happen, might be a strong stream tomorrow almost impossible to escape. It is not easy to pick apart the strands. I’ll try to guide you, but I cannot control what path you will be shown.”

Dany nodded. “I am familiar with prophecies.” This time I won’t be duped. I will use this to my own advantage. In the House of the Undying I saw the throne, though. And I almost have it.

“I’ll channel the visions to you, you will see events that are important for you.”

She thought, it would be a similar experience to the house of the Undying, but she was not prepared for the influx of visions that flooded her, when Bran Stark put his own hand to the strange tree. She looked at the visions as if from afar, not as if she was in them.

Jon on Rhaegal’s back fighting an army of the strange Undead, raining fire on them.

Davos, Jon Snow’s hand, circled by the Undead, his breath puffing.

A young man she vaguely remembered from the banquet yesterday, where he had sat on the benches, back to back with Arya.

Dany herself riding Drogon, Winterfell beneath her, a sea of red and green flames, Undead going up in flames everywhere. She was circling the white tree with the red leaves. Dany could almost feel the flames building in Drogon’s chest.

Jaime Lannister and that tall woman Brienne running, running, as if their lives depended on it.

Sansa, her blood colouring the snow around her as it gushed out in a constant rhythm. Arya bent over her, wailing.

Rhaegal on the ground, snarling, breathing fire, bleeding from many wounds, Jon Snow with raised sword at his side, eyes guarded and wary, his handsome face half covered in blood. He swayed, exhausted. Two shadowy shapes came closer. His sword clattered, when he let it fall, beaten.

Theon Greyjoy intent on drawing a bow, his eyes intent, red and green flames reflected in his pupils. The arrow looked pale as a bone.

Bran Stark sitting like he sat now, his hand touching the torched remains of a tree, his eyes looking empty.

Herself again, a silver circlet on her brow, a sea of men and women before her, kneeling. At her side was a darkhaired boy, with the violet eyes of her family. Dany’s hand was on his shoulders, and he smiled up at her proudly. The beauty of the picture made her shudder. She had a crown on her head and the people were calling at her.

The images whirled in her head. She had the feeling of a current that was about to overwhelm her. That is my son! She snatched her hand away. Suddenly her tender stomach made sense. When the sun sets in the east, when mountains fall… What had been the third again? She thought of King’s Landing burning, of the Wall falling.

“Wait,” Bran said. “That can’t have been all! You have not seen enough!”

Dany shook her head. “I saw victory. That is enough. I know what to do.”

Bran searched her face, his eyes boring into hers. “Please, Daenerys, for the sake of all of us. Look at other futures.”

She shook her head again. “This is the future I want.”

Bran closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. “So be it.”

He opened his eyes again.

“Jon is on his way, Sansa, he rides on the wings of a second storm. We’d best prepare for another siege. The stakes are even higher this time.”

Dany schooled her face. Soon. I know what I must do. She could taste triumph on her tongue.

“I want to plan with my Hand.”, she said.

She gave Bran a gracious nod. “Thank you for sharing your wisdom.” The Stark boy surely knows, that I’m going to win. Other futures? Pah. I will refound my dynasty. I’ll have a son.

His eyes were sad. Maybe he’ll be useful.

She gestured Greyworm to follow her and turned around. It was time to leave this cold place and the gaze of the three-eyed raven and the scowls of his sisters. Briefly Dany wondered if she would need to ensure the death of her nephew’s cousins. According to the visions, Sansa would not be a problem, but Arya might. Stick her with the pointy end.

“We must be ready for a great sacrifice,” Daenerys heard Bran. She did not turn, it was none of her business that Bran wanted to prepare his sister for her imminent death.

[oddcoupler222]

*pounds fists on table* Those Who Wait AU, TWW AU, TWW AU! trying to get my chant started ;) but seriously, i would do many things in order for you to post the alternate ending where Margaery didn't come out in that article/didn't go to the wedding...

okaaaay now that the real ending is out and about, i can divulge the au ending

in the event that Margaery didn’t go to Robb’s wedding, didn’t come out to Missandei in that article, the courses of their lives change drastically. Those Who Wait would have come to an end with chapter 21 (post Sansa’s love confession)

and then we would have:

It’s Only A Matter of Time

Sansa and Margaery are “broken up” (semantics, since they weren’t technically together and all). Sansa breaks down to Jeyne about their breakup, has confessed her love for Margaery. It’s been almost a month since that fateful confession, and Margaery is about to do her final interview before the election. In chapter 22 of Those Who Wait, she talks to both Renly and her grandmother, and is also heartbroken and knows she’s in love with Sansa.

But when the moment comes for her to tells Missandei about her sexuality…she decides by the skin of her teeth that it’s too risky, and instead, swallows it and listens to what she believes are her better instincts.

Now, the story diverges. Sansa goes home for Robb’s wedding, dealing withher heartbreak from Margaery. Margaery does not show up and profess her love for her.

Margaery goes on to win the election for the Small Council by the considerable margin she had on Cersei at that given point in time, and buries herself in work to get over her heartbreak. Sansa does her best to lean on her family and friends and deal with her feelings, as she prepares for her internship.

And… life goes on.

Eventually, the heartbreak gets easier. Sansa slays her internship, and returns back to King’s Landing seven months later (about 10 months post-breakup), and is as over Margaery as she’s going to be, really (which hurts and takes some time, more time than she’s ever had to deal with before after a breakup, because she has never been in love with someone the way she’s in love with Margaery. She’s never met anyone like Margaery, and they just had… something between them that clicked so well… so it takes some time).

She enrolls in KLU for a PhD program, working as an adjunct professor there (which will become her tenure career), and eventually starts trying to date. The following year, she meets Arianne Greenfield. She’s a couple years older, a journalist.They date, get engaged, and married, within the next few years. Two years later, they have a daughter, Gemma.

In the meantime, Margaery is a badass and climbing the political ladder like no one’s business. Margaery Tyrell is quickly becoming a name, beyond Olenna Tyrell’s granddaughter. She makes more reforms and gets more proposals approved than anyone has in over twenty years, and gets elected to the High Council in less than three years. Which is outstandingly fast.

She, after almost a year of self-imposed celibacy, VERY quietly dips into meeting women who she is sure will be discreet. It’s less frequent than in the past, she doesn’t go on any dating apps or anything, and it’s usually one night stands. There are a couple who last a little longer, but they are usually people who also have things on the line/wouldn’t really want for their sexuality/romantic pursuits to be public. And even when women inevitably fall for her, she doesn’t ever fall back, or really ever let herself be in a position to be. Because she under no circumstances wants to feel like her personal wants and career are at odds like she did back with Sansa ever again, and also doesn’t want to feel that heartbreak.

Even though they weren’t in each other’s lives, though, they never completely lose track of one another.

Like. The day Sansa gets married, Margaery knows and does she hyper-focus on work that day, staying at the office later than anyone else, and then go home and get a bit drunk and cry? Yes, yes she does. Does she hear through the grapevine that Sansa was pregnant -and see her from a distance at the store during said pregnancy, and feel this pang through her heart at this feeling of longing because no one has ever gotten into her heart like Sansa did? Of course.

Does Sansa always - always - stop to read every article that features Margaery’s rising political career? Sometimes getting lost in the thoughts, with this strange feeling of pride? Does she sit on the edge of her seat during Margaery’s High Council election, because it was just SO important? Undoubtedly.

But no matter how many years went by or even that her wife was a journalist who would occasionally write on politics, she never breathed a word about Margaery’s sexuality.

And they saw each other a handful of times over the years, too. As I said, Marg saw pregnant Sansa at the store. Sansa’s dad died a couple years after she’s married/has her daughter, and as he was a prominent politician who - at that point - Margaery had met multiple times and worked with a bit, she attended his funeral.

Arianne ends up having somewhat of an emotional affair, with her high school sweetheart, when Gemma’s about four, in a painful twist for Sansa, and they geta divorce (the ultimate irony as the world’s biggest romantic who is constantly unlucky in love. Also she publishes a humorous short-stories book Unlucky In Love - Tales of a Literally Hopeless Romantic that she started writing when she was tipsy and at Jeyne’s house the night after her divorce was final).

Margaery, in accordance with her lifelong plan, comes out after being on the High Council for 8/9 years - a couple of years before running for PM. She does it relatively quietly; her name isn’t AS publicized as it is in TWW universe and she, as according to plan, is not in a relationship, so it’s not something that anyone ever sees. It’s still a big deal, but a calculated risk that is relatively working out.

And even though she is now open to the idea of being with a woman publicly, it’s also difficult because… she wants someone who is going to be there for her as a partner, someone who understands all of the demands of her job (and how it’s really not just any job… whoever would be with her has REAL demands put on them as well),someone who has her own ambitions and wants, too. And she can’t really datecasually all that easily, you know? And - Margaery has discretely dated a LITTLE since coming out, but… she has this image of who she wants. It’s a, uhhh, very specific of an image of what she wants in a girlfriend.

The dust is starting to settle on being out, though, because it’s been a little over a year, and as she announced that she’s going to run for Prime Minister in the next election only about 2 years off, and the campaign is slowly starting, there’s a lot more interest in her right now. As the first outwardly gay politician as well as one of the youngest ever, who has become well known as a turning point in politics, there’s been some talk about having an authorized biography of sorts about her  to really jump into campaign season.

On the flip side, when Sansa had dinner that night that Marg came out, she quite literally dropped the cup she was holding at the announcement that Margaery Tyrell had come out (thank the gods for having a young child, because her cup was plastic, but like - still, she gets a weird look from her daughter). And she can’t help but have fleeting what-if thoughts that she does her best to squash.

Now, into the thick of things -

One of the big platforms Margaery has been working on since she got into politics is about education. Cost, quality, structure, etc. And she and a few others on the High Council who had supported different bills/proposals about funding for education are going to an event at King’s Landing University, which has a new program running for scholarships and students from not privileged backgrounds.

As the fates come together: Margaery and some others who have been on the political side of this education reform attend a a big dinner/fundraiser to jumpstart some programs at KLU. She’s there, having a decent evening, talking to some coworkers, when some speeches begin - and everything becomes background noise in that moment because

Sansa Stark (is it still Stark, she wonders, after she got married?) is up there, addressing the room. And even though there have been those very few moments they’ve seen one another in the last 15 years, it hasn’t happened in years and Sansa looks so good. Her hair is a little shorter and she’s older, but she’s up there and making a speech and - she is captivated by her.

After the speeches and whatnot are said and done, Sansa is in the crowd and is talking to a few of her coworkers, and as she’s in the middle of conversation, who joins the conversation but Margaery Tyrell.

Sansa chokes on her drink, because she did not know Margaery was going to be there, and she’s really right there and smirking. And Sansa only remembers seeing Margaery once in person since their breakup, but it was at her dad’s funeral and she was heartbroken and grieving and doesn’t remember much of that time, so this feels like. The first time she’s seeing her in person, and of course every time she’s seen her in articles or on the news, it doesn’t do her justice.

They get “introduced” and Sansa is still surprised and speechless, and Margaery shakes Sansa’s hand anyway - holding for a beat too long - as she says, “We’ve met, actually.” But never looks away from Sansa. 

“How are you?” is the first thing that comes out of Sansa’s mouth, because she’s just - she’s been wondering since Margaery had come out, honestly.

“I’m well; what about you?” Margaery’s voice is low and even though Sansa’s coworkers are there, she can’t help but feel like it’s just the two of them, and she slowly releases Sansa’s hand - no more wedding ring, she notes, and feels a resounding thud deep inside.

Sansa, after Margaery drops her hand, shakes herself out of it as much as she can, but how does she still feel that way when Margeary touches her? Like it’s 15 years ago, and she has to shake herself out of it. “I - I’m good.”

They don’t have time to talk just by themselves, really, standing in a group with their coworkers, but they have commentary with the group, and don’t really look away from one another.

Sansa goes home, tiptoeing in because Gemma is not the world’s heaviest sleeper. Jeyne is babysitting and can tell she’s dazed even as she huffs and falls into a chair. And when she tells Jeyne, her friend shouts, and ends up cutting the conversation short, because Gemma wakes up.

And Margaery? Well she goes home feeling like she wants to know Sansa all over again.

Fast-forward to a week later, where Sansa gets a phone call from Westerosi Publishing, who has wanted to publish an authorized bio on Margaery since she came out. And she’s almost numb in surprise, when they tell her that she was personally requested to write Margaery Tyrell’s story. “Requested?! By…”

“Ms. Tyrell, of course.”

Which is flattering and for a moment wonderful, but then like - “I’ll be in touch,” she tells them distantly.

Because what does this all mean?

So, she goes to meet with Margaery to talk about this, and has to take deep breaths and remindherself that she isn’t 24 anymore and Margaery Tyrell isn’t the first womanshe’s ever been with who broke her heart. That she is a married-and-divorced woman, with a daughter, and that this is going to be professional (even though it keeps playing in her mind that Margaery PERSONALLY REQUESTED HER).

So, she goes into the meeting, and Margaery is thrilled to see her. Because just in that one reuniting with Sansa, she felt more than she has with anyone else, like they have this thing between them. And she isn’t expecting anything, but maybe this at least can be a solid point for them to talk again.

She and Sansa talk a little bit, and Sansa is clearly a littlenervous, and finally, she asks why Margaery personally requested her for this. And Margaery thinks for a moment. Because her team was against it - “This Stark woman has only written academic pieces, with a sprinkling of historical fiction collabs and one admittedly successful but still book about humorous short stories. You could get so many more distinguished people -” “I want her.” -

“I want my story to be told by someone who understands me,” she settles on, quietly. Honestly. At the very base of it, she needs that.

“And,” she winks, “I’ve read both of your books and I know how talented you are. Even if it’s been a while for us to reconnect, I trust you much more than I trust a stranger to write a fair portrayal of me.”

It’s - the vulnerability that gets Sansa. The honesty, the earnestness, that draws her right in, and she finds herself agreeing.

So they go over some logistics in that meeting, and end with a handshake. And Margaery is wearing that little smile that makes Sansa’s stomach flip-flop even after so long, even though Margaery hasn’t done anything remotely unprofessional… And Margaery is wearing that smile because she just- Sansa is still Sansa. Some things have changed, of course, because no one stays the same after so much time passes, but there are things about Sansa that could never change, and she feels this rush of - something.

So, they communicate a bit through email/text, and then meet up again for a dinner meeting, the following week. And Sansa gets the feeling that Margaery might be hitting on her, somewhat. Which is a rush in and of itself, for her, too. Because Sansa hasn’t dated since her divorce, not really, and Margaery has this thing about her that has always always just set her on fire and made her feel like blushing and beautiful and…

But - no. This is Margaery, who broke her heart once, who is now in evenmore of an important position, who is literally in line to become the leader of the country – and so Sansa clears her throat at dinner and asks, “I know we have a, uh, a history. But this is - professional. You and I. Professional. Right?”

And Margaery smiles at her, even though entirely professional isn’t exactly what she wants, but she concedes…even before she quietly clears her throat, “Sansa, about the - the past-”

“I don’t think we need to talk about that,” Sansa interrupts, flushing, because it’s been so many years and she can still picture when Margaery broke up with her, when they’d met at the cafe, so clearly, and, “There’s no need. We grew, we moved on, and we’re, well, we’re here now.”

Which isn’t exactly what Margaery wants, because she wants Sansa to know so much about what she was feeling back then, and maybe she never really entirely moved on from that? She isn’t positive, she just knows no one else has ignited her the way Sansa does. She’s never felt the need to smile or that weird feeling in her stomach just from hearing from someone the way she does with Sansa, even after this time.

But if that’s what Sansa wants, she nods, and accepts it.

They keep working together, meeting every week. After a couple of weeks, things feel like they have a rhythm down, which is good and easy and just like it always is between them when other things don’t get in the way. They laugh about things and have some light hearted teasing and sort of re-get to know each other (and find that they are different in some ways, of course, but… still the same in others. They talk about their same love of tv shows and movies and books and share new things about their jobs. Sansa talks about Jeyne and Arya (who officially lives in KL now and they are closer now, even) and sort of about her daughter, but she actively has been trying to keep that barrier a bit because she needs to try to keep some boundaries. And Margaery eats every single detail up).

But Sansa does her best to try to redirect them back to Margaery, taking notes about her life and thoughts, and constantly reminding herself that she is there to do a job.

After about a month, Sansa has to cancel their meeting. Because, as she tells Margaery, she just has so much at home right now and she wishes she could go to their dinner, but she just can’t. She sounds so stressed - and Margaery takes the initiative.

She goes to Sansa’s, bringing dinner with her, and officially meets Sansa’s daughter - who is adorable and precocious and chatty after initially being a little shy. She talks to Margaery, all excited, because she recognizes thatshes “the council lady on the news that mommy watches” and asks all sorts of questions, like if Margaery really is in charge of everything and if she gets to have ice cream whenever she wants, etc. And seeing them together is like so surreal to Sansa and alarmingly nice which it SHOULDN’T BE and she sheepishly apologizes for all of Gemma’s loquaciousness after she puts her to bed, but Margaery waves her off, because she genuinely, really enjoyed it.

Things are quiet between them and it kind of leads them into talking more personally than they have been. 

About Margaery’s current wants and personal life (they’ve been talking a lot about her history and childhood during their other meetings, because that is where Sansa is starting in getting book material). But Sansa keeps thinking about Margaery and her daughter and ends up saying, “You were really good with her.”

Margaery is pleased and surprised that Sansa thinks so, “You don’t need to sound so surprised,” even if she’s very grateful, “She’s truly very cute. Very much like her mother,” it slipped out.

Sansa laughsa bit, and Margaery hesitantly asks - because she needs to know, “Where is her other mother?”

Sansa is quiet, her shoulders slumping after a moment, before she sighs, and unloads the story. About Arianne, the cheating, and her divorce. And about how she moved to the Westerlands, where she’s from, last year because her new wife’s sister is sick. Which Sansa understands, she supposes, but their daughter is here, and Sansa is essentially a single mother, now, and Arianne is supposed to take her for two weeks to the Westerlands in two weeks, but rescheduled it for the following month, which had resulted in Gemma being very upset and why Sansa had canceled their meeting.

Margaery eats upall of the information (and is pissed about the fact that Sansa’s wife cheated on her and is now all happily married and not here meanwhile Sansa raises their daughter primarily by herself but she holds it in). Before her hand falls to Sansa’s, which - touching isn’t something they do very often, but she can’t help it, “I think you’re truly incredible for doing it all, for the entire life you’ve built.”

And Sansa almost cries, really, because Margaery means it and she can see how much she means it, and she didn’t know how much it would mean to hear Margaery say that but it does. Then she scoffs out a little laugh and is like, “Yeah, and all of this comes from the woman who is doing it all. Everything you’ve ever wanted, en route to being the most successful woman in the country. You really are almost there.”

It truly almost slips out, the words WANT to come out, that she doesn’t really have it ALL…

Which leads into holding long eye contact… leaning in like magnets because how can they not… and they kiss. Starting off slow and exploring and just feeling and Sansa sighs against Margaery’s lips, her hands cupping her jaw softly because gods, there is just a way Margaery feels against her that is so - so Margaery.

And Margaery feels like she could devour Sansa, because this want inside of her is immediate and she feels like they left off in a way that was her own fault, but she never got closure on this door, and it feels like she’s been missing this for over a decade. They makeout on Sansa’s couch and it’s so good, and just when Margaery’s hands fall to her waist, Sansa pulls back.

She’s a little panicked and tells Margaery that they can’t. That it’s not at all agood idea and - so much could go wrong and… they can’t. Because she is panicking and there’s so much to think about, and Margaery sees that, and leaves to give Sansa space.

The next time they meet, a few days later, Sansa is determined to make sure that does NOT happen again (which is also a little rough because Margaery is so fucking attractive and she’s giving Sansa the looks like she wants to kiss her and -ugh). And so finally, she addresses the kiss, and wants to say it’s a mistake and – is floored when Margaery says that she doesn’t regret it at all, and that, in fact, she would like to kiss Sansa again, right now, in fact. Sansa leaves their meeting early and is reeling.

… but eventually gets brave and texts Margaery the next day to ask her professional questions about the next section of the biography. Which Margaery answers, quickly. And then also tells Sansa that she meant it when she said she wanted Sansa yesterday, and that she doesn’t want to push her at all, but she wants to be open this time around.

They end up sleeping together after a celebratory dinner because the first chunk of the book that Sansa got done was extremely well-received by the publisher. And afterwards, Marg spends the night at Sansa’s (because, damn it,she is In This, this time). They see Gemma the next morning, which - Sansa is all, mommy had an adult-friends sleepover, and Gemma is oblivious, but is enamored with Margaery, who is somewhat quickly rushed out by Sansa.

Sansa is having an internal crisis about what to do, because she is nervous about dating at all at this point in her life, isn’t open to being burned again, and definitely isn’t wanting for herself or her daughter to be subject to all of the comments that could/would be made by public medias if everything goes south if she was found out “being with” Margaery (and isn’t sure she wants her daughter all of the suddenin that spotlight at all)

But of course, she can barely control herself with Marg, because when has she ever been able to?

They sleep together a few more times, too and it’s all so familiar but also new, and it’s so exciting. For both of them. Like falling in love all over again but somewhat like they never left. Only, this time, for Margaery it’s something she wants, something she welcomes and she could cry with how much she feels like she’s been missing this, missing Sansa. And for Sansa, she is so unsure and worried…

Featuring a night, about a month into it, Sansa and Margaery are talking - Marg asks about if she’s excited for her “girls night” with Jeyne and Mya and Elia and a few others they’ve befriended along the way, and Sansa disappointed-sighs and says she is going to cancel, because her sitter cancelled on her. And before Margaery realizes it, she is volunteering to watch Gemma for the night.

Sansa pauses, like, “um really?” Because while Margaery has met Gemma a couple of times, it’s never been just the two of them and Sansa has sort of been trying to keep it like that, but the thought of it is so nice…

Margaery is also like WHAT AM I SAYING inside but, “Yes, of course,” slips out, because she wants to be closer to Sansa and getting to know Gemma more is a factor in that. One that she surprisingly isn’t terrified of or avoiding.

It ensues a scene with Loras, who is cracking up, “YOU’RE going to watch a CHILD?” because kids are obviously not something Margaery is around often.

But then she goes to Sansa’s place and Sansa gives her quick overview/instructions and is sort of reluctant to leave…

However, it turns out that Gemma at first is very satisfied with laying down and coloring and reading, especially because Margaery makes a lot of funny voices when it comes to reading aloud. They end up getting along well. Margaery paints her nails and Gemma is just really damn adorable because she is like a little Sansa in a few ways, which is more precious than Margaery could have thought.

She also gets Margaery to give her some lemon cakes by giving her the big-blue eyes, and when they’re sitting together at the kitchen table, she stares at Marg and asks, “Are you dating my mommy? Because my mom, my other mom, dated someone new and then left,” and she’s all downtrodden.

And there’s a moment for them, where Margaery feels the weight of those words, the weight of what she’s doing here - what she wants to do - with Sansa, as in be serious with her. She finds that she’s still not scared of it, though, and she gives Gemma a little smile, “I don’t think your mommy would leave you, for anything in this world.”

And Gemma smiles a little back at her, “You’re probably right.”

They end up falling asleep on the couch together, during which Gemma tells Margaery that she’d like if she came back for movies, especially if she’s dating her mom. And also if Margaery wants to come to school with her on career day, because “that would be cool.”

And gods be damned, Margaery thinks right in that moment she falls for Gemma, too.

And coming home from girls night - which featured Sansa getting called out on sleeping with Margaery and Jeyne absolutely screaming, “What fucking YEAR is it?!” - Sansa comes home and sees the two of them sleeping on the couch. Which of course melts Sansa’s very soft heart that she has been trying to keep tough to relatively no avail.

It all leads to a moment nearing the end of this, where Sansa is talking to Margaery for the biography, tentatively, about her love life. And she has to get all of her bravery to ask, “And… have you ever been in love?” She doesn’t know what she wants to hear, really, but she knows her heart is racing.

When Margaery stares at her she holds her gaze, as she feels her own heart pounding, “With one woman, yes.”

And Sansa’s breath rushes out, and tries to continue asking questions, trying to remain as objective as possible, starting to ramble a bit.

But Margaery interrupts her, standing from her desk as she speaks quietly but steadily, “I was in love when I was in my twenties, right before I won my first big election for the small council.” She rounds the desk to kneel in front of Sansa, “There was a woman who was both predictable and unpredictable in the best of both ways, kind and intelligent, and so very lovely, who was in love with me. I broke her heart, because I was too concerned with how it would effect my career. And I’ve spent fifteen years questioning and ultimately regretting that decision, and wondering what might have been if I hadn’t been so afraid.“ 

At some point, her eyes welled up with tears, because it’s all true and it feels so big inside of her, all of the times she’d spent wondering what if, what if.

Sansa’s heart is racing and she is this close to tears, as she’s frozen. And she… she doesn’t know what to do.

"I haven’t dated anyone seriously since my divorce,” comes out.

"I know, darling,” it feels so natural to say, and Sansa actually shivers at it, even as she shakes her head.

"I - I have a daughter.”

“Gemma is very lovable.”

“I… I’m scared,” she admits, because she is, that’s what it boils down to. Scared for her daughter, scared for herself, and…

“I’m not.”

“How can you not be?” Sansa was incredulous.

“Because everything I said to you is true, Sansa. I broke your heart because I was afraid and I can’t change that, but I’m out now, and I’m not afraid. I’ve done everything alone, just like I always thought I would. But I never thought it would be so lonely. And I want you to share it with, if you want me, too,” it’s really more begging than she’s ever done in her life, and she doesn’t want Sansa to leave her office, she - she feels like everything is so vulnerably on the line.

But Sansa’s hands are shaking and she tells her she just - she needs some time.

Which leads to both of them being miserable and Margaery tries to give her space, even as she thinks about how she’s sure that only Sansa will ever be this for her. This person who makes her feel so much, who she is so in love with, who makes her feel like everything is on the line. She doesn’t want to lose that, not again.

And Sansa… Sansa doesn’t know what to do at all. Until Margaery ends up coming to Gemma’s career day, shocking her, giving her an apologetic look, “I wouldn’t have come but Gemma, well, she asked me. And I’ll leave right after, I swear to you.”

Gemma beams at Marg while she speaks and tells Sansa that she likes the lady she’s dating, and there’s something in that moment that makes her feel like she should dive - so she follows Marg when she leaves, her heart in her throat.

And Sansa is actually, really, crying when she reaches her, her voice breaking, “You broke my heart. More than anyone ever has,” she admits, “I loved my wife, I really did, but even her cheating and ending our marriage… it was harder because of the situation, but I wasn’t as heartbroken, not nearly.”

Margaery stares at her, wide-eyed and she knows they’re in public and for this one moment, she can’t bring herself to care.

“There’s something about you, about you and me, that is just different. I thought it was because you were my first woman or maybe because you were the first person I really fell in love with, but I don’t - I don’t know how to explain. I don’t know anything other than the fact that it’s just the way it is,” she wipes at her cheeks, her hands shaking, her heart on the line it feels like, because everything with Margaery feels like that, and it always has.

But this time, Margaery’s eyes are big and soft and warm and there’s so much hope in them and there’s this rising feeling in her stomach, before Margaery reaches out and pulls her toward her, her arms wrapping around her waist, pushing up onto her tiptoes to kiss Sansa.

Not in secret, not in fear, just - loving her, for real, and she can’t stop, even as she feels Sansa’s hands comb through her hair before holding her there.

“It’s the same way for me,” she murmurs when they part, “It always has been.”

[ao3feed-sansaery]

the dragon and the wolf

read it on the AO3 at http://bit.ly/2VaJjHL

by Dikeli

Sansa Stark come back, after five years, to Winterfell with her girlfriend Margaery, after the death of her uncle Jon Arryn. She hasn't been very present for her family during those years and she's trying to catch up. Everything's fine until Jon, her cousin and adoptive brother, introduce her to Daenerys Targaryen, an intriguing woman who seems to have a soft sport for Sansa and can't stop to try flirting with her. Unfortunately, Jon have a crush on Daenerys. Sansa must deal with this woman without hurting Jon and her girlfriend, Margaery.

Words: 1128, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Game of Thrones (TV)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/F

Characters: Sansa Stark, Daenerys Targaryen, Margaery Tyrell, Jon Snow, Robb Stark, Arya Stark, Bran Stark, Catelyn Tully Stark, Ned Stark, Missandei (ASoIaF), Theon Greyjoy

Relationships: Sansa Stark/Daenerys Targaryen, Sansa Stark/Margaery Tyrell

Additional Tags: Slow Burn, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eventual Smut

read it on the AO3 at http://bit.ly/2VaJjHL

[christabellanikolai]

Winter’s End, Chapter 3

I saved thousands that night, but I couldn't save my family.

Archive of Our Own Link 

They had been riding for what Jon had assumed was two days straight, only stopping for a few short times to eat. As they continued south along the King’s Road their horses became tired, slowing their pace. Finally, Theon and Jon had decided to take a break, setting up a small campfire along the road, cooking their first proper meal in days. Two other members of the Night’s Watch had also joined them. Jon did not recognize them, he assumed they had joined after he had become King in the North or even Warden of the North.

“Is it true you climbed the Wall?” asked one of the men, Jon had learned his name was Crann. “What was it like?”

“Hell,” said Jon, unsure if the boy was speaking of the steps or when he scaled the side to cross over with the Free Folk. “There is a reason we have a lift.” All four laughed as Theon began to pass around pieces of charred meat. “What about you two? How did you two become members of the Night’s Watch?”

“Our families died in the wars your grace.” said the boy who had introduced himself as Orwen, his face similar to that of Grenn. “When there was nothing left for me I ended up riding North to help rebuild, somehow I found myself at the Wall.”

“I was living in the foothills just outside the Eyrie when the fighting for King’s Landing broke out. My family refused to take sides and was murdered by the Lannister army. I ran and hid out the war in an abandoned holdfast.” said Crann “When it was all over I began to wander, explore what was left of Westeros. The Lord Commander found me and brought me to the Wall. The first time I saw it, it felt like I had reached the edge of the world.”

“I am glad to see that the Watch is prospering,” said Jon

“It really is the Queen’s doing.” said Theon, “Jaime says she is the first ruler on record in many years to actually visit Castle Black.” Jon then remembered what one of the boys had said in passing that night in front of the statue on the Wall. How Daenerys had lit the flame herself. “She told me she wouldn’t let the Night’s Watch die, she wanted it kept alive in your memory.”

Later that night Jon lay awake, staring up that stars. Each time he closed his eyes he saw her face. At first, she had been smiling down upon him, memories of their blissful nights together. Though as the hours' pasts and the cold winds began to blow her face changed, tears pouring from her eyes as she begged him not to go, to stay back as his armies fought one last battle with the Night King.

“Jon…” his brother Bran’s voice ringing in his head. “Jon, go down the hill, there you will find a Godswood.”

It was as if his feet began to move on his own. Soon he found himself standing face to face with a heart tree, the eyes streaked with red sap. “Reach out your hand.” he heard Bran say. “You must begin to see.”

Jon did, just as his hands touched the bark he felt the world around him disappear. No longer was there a Godswood in front of him but his Brother Bran, his hand held out. “Don’t be afraid, soon you will understand.” Flashes of images played out in front of him, they were so quick he struggled to see them clearly. In one he reached for Longclaw, stopping suddenly as he found the blade ablaze. He then swung it toward the Night King, hitting him in the abdomen. Just as the Night King’s form began to break apart, a spear made of ice was pushed forward. He felt the sharp end enter his stomach. A flash of pain before his hands fell upon warm blood as it poured from the wound. “Dany…” he whispered as he fell to his knees. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s too late. He is gone.” he heard an unfamiliar voice say. He saw himself lying on stone, his body surrounded by branches. Children of the Forest stood around him. “We need to try.” another voice said.

“Do it.” he heard his Brother say. He looked up to find Bran among the branches, standing above him. “This is the only way to prevent the Army of the Dead from ever rising again.”

A sudden stabbing pain in his chest, he heard himself scream out as his body lurched upward. Slowly the scream turned into one that was no longer his own, but Daenerys. He turned his head looking for her, terrified by her cries of pain. “No!” he heard himself yell. “No more!”

He ripped his hand away from the tree, once again within the Godswood. His heart was racing and his breath unsteady. “Jon!” he heard Theon yell as he ran toward him. “Jon, what’s happened?”

“I should have been there,” Jon repeated. He couldn’t understand why he was saying this, nor did he know where he was speaking of. Only that whatever had made Daenerys scream in such pain, he should have been there to protect her. “I should have, she shouldn’t have been alone.”

“Jon, what are you talking about?” he felt his friend placing his hands upon his shoulder, pulling him back to reality. Theon looked toward his friend and then the heart tree, he somehow understood what was happening. He heard rumors of Northmen having such abilities. “What did you see?”

Jon swallowed hard as he continued to breath heavy. Clutching his chest. “I was beyond the wall, the Night King stabbed me but Bran he was there. I heard Dany, she was screaming, but I couldn’t find her. It was awful.”

Theon took Jon’s shaking hands in his own as he kneeled in front of him. “It’s over now, look at me. You aren’t there anymore, you are with me in the North, and we are going to King’s Landing. Daenerys is Queen now, she is waiting for us.” It was something he had found helped not only himself but his sister as well. Whenever their past traumas haunted them, they simply needed to be reminded of the present. It seemed to help Jon as his breath began to slow and he was able to rise to his feet. “Let’s get back to riding for the capitol. We should be near Winterfell soon.”

“My Queen, please accept these gifts.” One of her subjects stood before her in the throne of the Red Keep. She sat upon the iron throne, holding court with the people of Westeros. While the lines had been short during the early days of her rule, they had grown longer as the weather began to change. “Your gentle yet strong leadership saw that not only Westeros, but the lands beyond the Narrow Sea survived this long and hard winter. For this, we bring you jewels from across the waters. They are from lands you once visited while in exile. I hope they serve as reminders of how far you have come.”

“Your gesture is wonderfully kind.” said Daenerys as her she admired the set of jewelry held within a small trunk. From where she sat she was unable to tell by the cut of jewels where exactly they were from. She nodded toward her Queensguard as the man closed the trunk before passing it to one of the Unsullied soldiers. “If there is anything you need to rebuild please do not hesitate to ask. We hope to provide any resource needed to help people rebuild their homes.”

“Today I only hoped to say thank you my Queen.” said the man as he bowed, taking his leave.

“Was that the last one?” she asked Missandei who nodded. “Good, Tyrion have Yara and Davos brought to my chambers.”

As she headed toward her private chambers she could hear her son receiving a lesson from Samwell in one of the studies. “Whose sigil is that?” she heard him ask. She stood in the doorway, watching the two look over a large book containing the sigils from each of the houses in Westeros.

“That is a new one.” said Sam “A bear looking upon a maiden. House Giantsbane, they live in the North. Your Father helped to bring them from beyond the wall.”

“They knew Father?” asked Aegon, his face lighting up at the mention of Jon.

“Yes, Tormund was a great friend of his.” said Sam “Maybe he will visit us for the wedding. You could ask him how your Father thought Tormund was a King the first time they met.”

“He will be here.” said Daenerys as she sat down across from them. “Brienne once served in your Aunt Arya’s own personal guard.”

“My Queen! I am sorry I did not see you come in.” said Sam as he struggled to quickly rise to his feet. Daenerys giggled, shaking her head at the unnecessary formalities. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Yes, I was just hoping to ask if you received any more responses from the Maesters.”

“Not since yesterday, but I did receive this one from Jaime at Castle Black this morning.” He passed a rolled up parchment toward Daenerys. She took it, her hands shaking with worry that it may be a response to her request. Sam took her hand in his, shaking his head.

‘Theon Greyjoy and 2 others have begun their journey toward Kings Landing. They should arrive in time to represent the Night’s Watch in the celebration of the union between House Stark and House Baratheon. They bring with them a gift for both Arya Stark and her grace Queen Daenerys. - Jaime Lannister, The 1000th Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch.’

“A gift for myself and Arya?” asked Daenerys confused by the wording of the letter. She ended up rolling her eyes as she read it once again. Sam laughing in response to her candor. “Of course he would be vague.”

“It seems any gifts should be shared among Gendry and Arya, not between the Queen and the Bride.” said Sam causing Daenerys to smile.

“That has always been the only tradition I have known,” said Daenerys before heading over toward Aegon. The boy wrapped his arms around his Mother and pulled her closer. “When you finish your lessons we can have dinner in the Gardens.” She whispered before heading for her chambers.

As she stepped inside, she watched as Yara and Davos rose to their feet, bowing their heads. “Sit, sit,” she ordered. It had been a long afternoon of holding Court, and she was done with formalities. “These silly things really do waste time. Yara I am sure you are probably wondering why I asked you to here a bit earlier than the rest of the guests.”

“I believed it was because you have missed my company.” said Yara in her sarcastic flirtatious tone. “Though if it is for an arranged marriage between this man and myself, I am afraid my Queen that you are far off from my preferences.”

“I would never do such a thing.” smiled Daenerys. “No, I have a proposition that involves both you. As it appears Winter is over, traveling the Narrow Sea should be much easier. You two know more about traveling the seas than anyone in the Seven Kingdoms. I also think it’s time I grow the Small Council. Yara I would like to make you Master of Ships and Davos I would make you the Master of Trade.”

“What of my duties as Master of Law your grace.?” asked Davos, having previously put in charge of keeping order among the people and maintaining the Dungeons during the Winter.

“Ser Jorah has agreed to take on that role should you accept this new position.” answered Daenerys. “You two would obviously be working closely which is the reason I have brought you both here.”

“What would you like us to do first?” said Yara, immediately agreeing to the Queen’s request. She was exciting not only by the opportunity but also the fact that another woman had recognized her skills and abilities such a way.

“Ser Davos meet with the people of Flea Bottom, I want you to work with them to identify something that is only available from across the Narrow Sea. It needs to be something people will buy, Flea Bottom will then become the hub from where it is sold.”

“My Queen…” said Davos “This is a brilliant idea. I am quite sure the people of Flea Bottom will be grateful for this opportunity, thank you.”

“It is a small step, but if we are going to build that part of the cities economy then we have to set them apart from other traders in the city, may even the country.” said Daenerys “Yara, your first task will be to go to the harbor. There are some old ships, left by the Lannisters and your brother’s fleet, I want you and your men to see what needs to be done to convert them into trade ships.”

“Yes my Queen,” said Yara.

“Good, I want regular reports from you both at Small Council meetings.” said Daenerys “Also we should be sure to share our plans with Gendry when he arrives. He grew up there and would have invaluable insight into what can be done there.”

“Yes your grace.” agreed Davos “I hope he is excited for this as I am.”

The highest towers were gone, the stones surrounding the walls were crumbling. They stood on the hills overlooking Winterfell. He was finally able to see the damage that had been left over from the last time he stood within the walls of the Northern capital. As he rode forward toward the gates, he thought of the last time. He was riding hard away from the gates, toward a dragon, his wife calling to him. Above him he could see the Night King surrounding the castle, riding upon the back of Viserion. In his arms was Arya, screaming for him to allow her to go back for her.

They were quickly able to ride through the gates. All of them silently dismounted from their horses before walking into the courtyard. The entrance ways and halls had been burned out. Many of the structures had collapsed or were on the verge of doing such. He walked toward what was once the entrance to the training yard, an arrow, it’s tip made of Dragonglass lay on the ground. A small reminder of that horrible night.

“Winterfell fell that night.” said Theon “But it was on that night that you began to push the Army of the Dead further North. You saved thousands in the South that night.”

“Thousands, yet I couldn’t save her.” said Jon

“Who?” asked Theon.

“My sister, Sansa,” said Jon, his head hung low. “I tried but the flames... this courtyard went up so fast. My men pulled me away, I was even lucky enough to grab Arya when I did.”

“You don’t know…” said Theon, his voice low. “I feared you did ride off before the raven arrived.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Jon “What raven?”

Theon had rescued his sister from Kings Landing just before Winterfell fell. While he had wanted her to return to the Iron Islands, she insisted on going North to fight with Daenerys. The seas wouldn’t be safe. Instead, they had sent a ship as a decoy, sailing toward White Harbor. They then began to travel North by horseback. When they came upon Winterfell, they saw the destruction left over by the attack. They walked the courtyard in silence, stepping over charred bodies of those left behind. “This can’t be…” said Theon, fearing his allies and friends were dead.

“There was no sign of the army south of here.” said Yara “They must have pushed them back North, we have to keep going.”

They quickly began collecting any of the dragonglass weapons that had been left over. As they did, they heard a voice shouting to them from the trail leading to the crypts. “Greyjoy! Get over here now!”

“Clegane?” asked Theon, both himself and his sister ran toward to crypts. There they found Sandor Clegane, the Hound motioning for them to follow him. “You have to help me get her out of here.”

“Who?” asked Theon, but his question was answered as he came upon the tomb of Ned Stark. There at the foot of the statue lay Sansa. Her skin was burned, she was shaking, and Theon was unsure if she was conscious. “Sansa! What’s happened to her?” Theon fell to his knees, pulling the young woman toward him.

“Theon…” he heard Sansa say as she weakly reached her arms around him. “What are you doing here?”

“She was in the main hall when the army of the dead arrived.” said Sandor “Fire, there was..blue fire everywhere. She must have somehow made it out of the hall and came here. When I was running something hit me in the head, when I came to, I found her while looking for survivors.”

“Smart little thing.” said Yara “This whole area is made of stone.”

“She has been too weak to move these last two nights.” said Sandor “We need to find the closest Maester, bring her South if we have to.”

“If we bring her South then Cersei will surely have her killed.” said Theon

“What would you have us do then Greyjoy?” yelled Sandor “There are no Maesters left North of here, and we can’t just leave her here to die.”

“Calm yourself Hound!” said Yara “East, we can bring her East and then go South if we have to. There is a Maester on the Iron Islands, he could help her, and it would put distance between her, the fighting and Cersei.”

“No…” Theon heard Sansa say. “It hurts too much, just go and leave me. Jon and Daenerys need you.”

“I’m not leaving you to die alone here.” Said Theon rising to his feet with Sansa in his arms. He ran with her as the statues of those he had previously betrayed looked on.

“We got her to the Iron Islands on a stolen ship we found in the bay.” said Theon. Jon stood silently staring toward the entry to the crypts. “The Maester there helped her the best he could, but we had to bring her to the Citadel when it was safe.”

“But she is alive?” asked Jon.

“Aye she is alive.” smiled Theon, “She wrote to me a few months ago from Riverrun. Though I imagine she will soon head to Kings Landing for your sister’s wedding.”

“Theon…” said Jon as he stepped forward, pulling the other man to him, his arms wrapping around him. “Thank you.”

“Riders are approaching!” yelled Crann from the gate. Theon quickly reached behind Jon pulling the hood above his head. “What are you doing?” he heard Jon say as he tried to stop him. “This is still my home.”

“Do you remember how you said you wanted to get to your wife quickly.” said Theon “That will not happen if you are found here. Now do your best to keep yourself hidden and let me do the talking.”

“What are men of the Night’s Watch doing here?” they heard the riders asked they came through the gates.

“My apologies if I have disturbed the ruins.” said Theon “I was raised here and just wanted to pay my respects on my way to King’s Landing.”

“And who are you?” asked one of the riders. Jon was able to see them now, though he continued to keep his face hidden. They too wore black cloaks, though a sigil of a dragon and a wolf was embroidered on the front. They were from King’s Landing. He assumed they had been ordered by Daenerys to keep watch over the ruins until Winter ended and it could be rebuilt.

“Theon Greyjoy.” informed Theon “I was kept as a ward here for many years. I am on my way to the wedding by invitation of Queen Daenerys.” Jon watched as Theon handed the man a scroll, he assumed it was the invitation to King’s Landing from Daenerys.

“Apologies.” said one of the guards. “Your companions, they are members of the Night’s Watch as well?”

“Yes,” said Crann before introducing himself and explaining where he was from. Orwen also did the same.

“You over there.” said one of the guards toward Jon. “Who are you? How did you join the Night’s Watch?” Jon froze at the question, a feeling of uneasiness passing over him. In anticipation of traveling King’s Landing, and in trying to figure out what exactly happened to him and his family, he had forgotten to plan for this type of moment. He turned to see Theon, a look of worry and anticipation across his face.

“My name is Clovis,” said Jon in an almost hush voice. “Joined the Night’s Watch when my home was destroyed in the war with the Night King.”

“Think you are gonna become the next King in the North with that sword there.” said the guard in a joking tone as he noticed Longclaw on Jon’s hip. “So many boys running around with Longclaw replicas. Saw one almost burn his hand off dipping his into a fire the other day.”

“Well we won’t be doing that.” said Theon “Now I think we should be heading for King’s Landing.” The four men then began to head back toward their horses. As Jon made his way toward the gate, one of the guards stopped him by grabbing him by the arm. Jon froze as the man looked closely at him. “Sorry, I thought I recognized you from somewhere,” he said before letting him go.

Jon quickly mounted his horse, riding forward, ahead of the rest of the group. While he could hear them shouting for him to slow down, he ignored them. There was a fear that he had been discovered and if word got out, it would slow him down. He needed to get as close to Daenerys as he could before any of that happened.

[fierypen37]

Virtue a Veil, Vice a Mask: Chapter 2

Another venture in my alternate history Jonerys smut verse. Enjoy!

Her slumber was so deep and restful, she woke in a muddle. Daenerys frowned, blinking into a deep well of velvet darkness. Curled on her side, with a warm, muscular arm draped across her belly. Where . . .?  It all came flooding back: leaving her children in Rakharo’s care in Pentos, plucking up the bravery to cross the Narrow Sea, riding with Missandei and three bodyguards to King’s Landing, the masque, Jon. Gods, Jon. If she hadn’t fallen for him already, she’d certainly stumbled. His awkward charm, the delight of his smile, his earnestness, his honest passion.

Is it always like this? Daenerys didn’t know. The depths of passion roused by his touch was an entirely novel feeling. One she seized hold of with both eager hands.

Several bodily needs crowded to the fore: a grumbling belly, a full bladder, a dry throat. Daenerys slipped from Jon’s embrace. A shaft of moonlight slipped through the shutter to illuminate a thin span of his face. Long dark lashes curled in slumber, his wild black curls, the angle of his cheekbone. Daenerys kneaded the ache in her chest. After years of dreading returning home and meeting her brothers, Jon came as a surprise. Padding barefoot on frigid flagstones, she wiggled into her shift and gown, unwound her hopelessly snarled braids, attended her needs in the privy closet, and stoked the dying fire to the music of Jon’s soft snores.

The honeycakes were a distant memory, and the sideboard held naught but dust and moth-eaten napery. She dithered, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest. There was a grace to the way he was knit together, beauty stamped in the slope of his muscles. Before she could check the impulse, Daenerys bent and pressed a kiss to his temple. She slipped from the room, and spent several fruitless minutes wandering darkened corridors before she retraced their steps. She scooped up her forgotten mask, dented on one side and smeared with dust.

The masque was still in full swing. The voices and barking laughter rose to a dull roar, bouncing off the rafters in mocking echoes. The room seethed with revelers. Dancing, talking, eating. The heat was a moist press smelling of sweat, spilled ale, and grease. Her eye darted about, searching for the gleam of silver and finding none. The royal family must have retired for the night. Daenerys didn’t know whether to feel relieved or disappointed. A harried servant hurriedly piled food on a tray for her. Tender slices of roast boar and pear, crisp bacon, a dish of peppered goat cheese, slices of potato fried in the drippings, mashed tubers, a tureen of ginger soup with watercress and almonds, four loaves of warm brown bread, honeycakes and candied almonds—she feared she might not be able to carry it all. She felt the probing of the servant’s puzzled glance. What noblewoman would carry her own tray, regardless of the hour?

The tray proved a manageable, if awkward burden as she made her careful way back to the Tower of the Hand. The fire crackled and murmured to itself, and Daenerys basked in the glimmer of its warmth. Essos’s warm spring felt very far away. Jon surged upright in bed. Her heart leapt to her throat. His face was inscrutable as she set the tray on the sideboard, kneading her wrists.

With a rustle of bedclothes, he leapt up, naked as his nameday. Daenerys watched him warily. Had he wished to sleep alone? Did he want her to lea--? Jon yanked her into a tight embrace with a harsh sigh. Daenerys wound her arms around him, breathing in the spicy tang of his scent.

“I . . . I thought you’d gone,” he said, his breath blooming warm above her ear. Something broke within her, the last crumbling of resistance. She basked in his sturdy warmth, the sleek shape of him.

“No. I . . .” I don’t want to leave without you, she wanted to say, but they were voiced from the desperate, lonely depths of her soul.

“I wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye,” she said.

Jon peeled back to look at her, with his soulful, searching grey eyes. Shadow and firelight fought for purchase of his clear cut features. A study in contrasts. Wild dark hair and milk pale skin. Hard muscle and smooth skin. A mouth made for sin and a virigin’s shyness.

“You still haven’t spoken with my lord father, or Uncle Viserys. You wanted to meet them. I can introduce you tomorrow,” he said, the eager words tumbling out. Tomorrow. Later. Staving off the reality of that goodbye. Daenerys felt a smile stretch her face, a mirror to his.

A small voice in her head warbled that it was madness to linger in Jon’s bed, to stumble and fall over her unexpected and growing feelings for him. But after her pained, desperate cleaving to Drogo, often only to have him leave her throbbing and unsatisfied, then later a soot-smeared widow, passion with Jon was vastly preferable. Honest and tangible.

“That’s right. They’ve retired for the night,” she said.

Of their own will, Daenerys’ hands molded to the shape of him, so warm, his body hair chafing her palms. Daenerys tilted close, feeling the jut of his swelling erection teasing the silk of her dress.

“Besides, I haven’t had my fill you,” she whispered huskily. Muscles in his throat flexed as he swallowed. The gentle embrace tightened, dragging her flush against him. Daenerys bit her lip, arousal shivering through her like a plucked lyre string. She loved the throbbing heat of his cock pressed up against her belly, his little nipples puckered against the chill.

“Thank the gods,” he said. Jon hovered close, his eyes drinking in her face, resting on her lips.

It was a testament to the happenings of the past hours that he didn’t wait for permission or guidance to kiss her. Though, to his credit, she found the former endearing and the latter potently arousing. No, now those lips moved over hers with new confidence, angling to deepen the kiss. Daenerys clung to his shoulders, losing herself in the dance of lips and tongue. She clenched her thighs against a hot, liquid ache. Jon ducked his head to press kisses along her jaw and throat, a trail of fire throbbing in his wake. His fingers tangled in her hair.

“I like your hair like that. Like a waterfall in the moonlight,” he whispered. Daenerys breathed a soft laugh. The heat of the fire throbbed at her back, sweat beading at the base of her spine.

“You have the soul of a poet. Silver hair must be boring to you. You see it everywhere.”

“Not bored. Not at all. See?” Jon said, trapping her hand on his cock. Oh yes, she reveled in his girth, that vital throb of his heart, the impossibly silky skin over hard flesh. She smoothed the fluid weeping from the head with her thumb, squeezing a long, slow stroke. Black pubic hair tickled the side of her hand. Jon rested his forehead to hers, his warm breath fluttering in harsh pants. Trapped in the deep, wild darkness of his gaze, Daenerys stroked and stroked.

“Mercy, Dany,” he breathed, his voice thickened by a northern accent. The moniker broke the spell. She blinked in startled pleasure.

“Dany?” she said with a smile.

“Aye. D—Do you like it? I call you anything you like, as long as you don’t stop,” he said, his hips flexing into her clasp. Daenerys chuckled.

“I like it. A sweet, simple name. Let’s see how it sounds when I do . . . this,” she said, sinking to her knees in front of him.

Jon’s chest heaved as if he’d run a footrace, eyes wide and ravenous on her. His face was a rigid mask of concentration. His dark, smoky gaze was as potent as a touch, caressing every inch of her.

Daenerys’ skin felt thin and hot, her heart beating loud in her ears. The flagstones were so cold beneath her knees. Jon petted her head gently, in tacit encouragement. Daenerys lapped his thick pink cock from root to tip. Jon’s exhaled breath emerged in a low hiss. His hips arched, eager for more.

“Wait,” Jon said, his voice hoarse. Daenerys stilled, blinking up at him. Color stained his angular cheekbones.

“May I . . . may I see you unclothed?”

The question, so simple and awkwardly phrased, nearly made her laugh. Daenerys tugged dress and shift over her head. The cooler air made her nipples tighten, though the fire’s warmth washed over her back and buttocks. Her discarded clothes padded her knees.

“Oh Dany. Thank you,” Jon said, stroking her hair. The touch loosened hidden knots of tension, and Daenerys stifled the impulse to nuzzle into the caress.

She bent to her task. One hand gripping the base, Daenerys lapped the pearly drop of fluid from his cockhead to taste the salt and heat of him. Jon sucked in a ragged gasp through his teeth. She steadied her free hand on the perfect curve of his buttocks. Jon’s hands cupped her skull, flexing in handfuls of her hair.

Arousal was an eager hungry pulse between her legs. Mm, she rejoiced in the hot weighty feel of him in her mouth, salty fluid seeping. Wet slurping sounds felt amplified in the ringing silence. She sucked him in a slow, steady rhythm, reveling in his whimpers and pleading. Daenerys twitched and squirmed, longing to touch the hot ache between her thighs. The inward ache grew and twisted between their locked eyes.

“Fuck . . . oh gods, Dany . . . Dany! Thank you. Thank you! Yes . . . so good.” Daenerys grinned around his girth. She quite liked that nickname. Her hands wandered, cupping the weight of his balls, tender in her palm. She kneaded the flexing muscle of his buttocks. A hungry thought wanted to tease his arse, watch him squirm and sweat and plead. Her Dothraki handmaiden Irri was brimming with advice after her wedding night with the khal. There was pleasure to be found there, if her words were to be believed. If Jon rocked too deep into her throat or clenched her hair a bit too hard, Daenerys took it as a testament of his arousal. The fevered nonsense falling from his lips took on a shriller tone.

“S—Stop. Stop . . . stop,” Jon said.

Perplexed, Daenerys broke suction with a wet pop. Daenerys fought disappointment, yearning to taste his issue. He tasted so good. Clean and masculine.

“Are you sure? You seemed like you were close,” she asked, her voice hoarse. She couldn’t help teasingly lapping the fat weight of his cockhead, radiating heat. Jon shuddered, gasping. It took her a moment to recognize it as laughter. He gave a frantic nod.

“I was. Am. Bedding with you is walking a knife’s edge,” Jon said with a wry smile. Something glowed in his expression, tenderness and affection and—Daenerys’ heart lurched in her chest. He framed her face with his warm, callused palms.

“Thank you. You’ve been so generous with me. I want to taste you too.”

A shudder of arousal raced through her at the thought of his eager, focused attention on the ache between her thighs. Her hands restlessly caressed his thighs, black hair chafing her palms.

“Let me take the edge off for you. Let me taste it.”

Mute and needy, Jon nodded, his cheeks flushed. Daenerys returned to her task readily, suckling him down as deep as she could take him. Hollowing out her cheeks, she found a tight rhythm. His hands trembled framing her head, his thumbs a ticklish caress on her eyebrows and forehead. She cupped his balls, the soft skin taut and hot.

“Dany. Dany, I’m . . . oh fuck!” Jon threw back his head, clinging to her as he came. Hot spurts of come flooded her mouth, salt and bitter and male. Daenerys drank it down. Jon staggered, Daenerys pulled off him, steadying him.    

Jon yanked her up into his arms, burying his face in her hair and dragging in deep shuddering breaths. When he looked at her, his eyes shone and swam. There it was again, that soft, searching look. His heart offered up to her in cradled hands, honest and generous. The kiss was as inevitable as the rising of the sun. Their lips met in languid caresses. Jon coaxed her with tender, sipping kisses until she opened like a flower to soft rain. The press of naked skin was heady, his hands sliding possessively over her body. Daenerys fell back into his sure, steady grip.

Together, they lay on the rumpled bedclothes. Her heart leapt against her ribs, she forced her hands to stillness. When had he tipped the scales, twisted her into needy, awkward thing? Crouched over her, Jon’s hot gaze raked over her. He looked like a shadowcat eyeing its prey.

“Dany. Dany,” he whispered, “tell me how.” His brow creased in an endearing frown. The frightened tension in her belly dissolved. This wasn’t Drogo ravaging her, this wasn’t a slaver or hustler trying to violate her. This was Jon. My Jon.  

“Just . . . just like with your fingers. Start slow and light. No teeth,” she said, gulping.

Jon nodded, stretching on the bed between her spread thighs. Daenerys squirmed at the sight of him there, somehow both predatory and innocent. Jon scattered soft, wet kisses on her belly and thighs. Eyes closed in delight, Jon nuzzled the soft skin of her inner thighs. The sweetness of his expression tugged at her heart. His beard stubble prickled in a teasing caress.

“Mm, you smell good,” Jon rasped.

The first lap of his tongue against her slit made her shudder. Jon groaned.

“Oh yes. I love the taste of you. I love--” he broke off with a choked sound, callused hands kneading her thighs. Heat stretched the moment taut between them, significance throbbing in the silence. Daenerys cupped his head, sinking eager fingers into his mussed curls. Jon leaned into the caress and returned to his task under her low-voiced instruction.

“Gentle, up and down mmm . . . oh . . . oh yes, just like that.” His tongue lapped, gentle and soft at her opening. Daenerys panted, pleasure curling warm at each touch, turning sharp and red when he licked her pearl. Her hips canted up toward his mouth, hungry for more.

“Mmm, so good,” Jon whispered. Gods, even the puff of his breath against her sex roused her.

Sensations blurred together, she was lost in the magic of his lips and tongue, the anchoring grip of his hands on her thighs. Pleasure lashed and surged, building, building, building into a massive cresting wave—Jon! Color burst behind her closed eyes, muscles spasming. The pleasure intensified, swinging up sharp toward pain.

“Jon, Jon, stop!” she said, shoving at his shoulders. Jon whimpered, straining against her grip.

“More. More, let me have more, please!” Jon begged, his face shining with her juices.

“Jon, breathe. Breathe. It—It’s too intense. I need a moment.”

Jon’s grey eyes swallowed her whole, pupils wide and dark. The smile that curved his lips was wicked.

“I see. Once you’ve rested, I want to keep going if that’s all right. I love how you taste.”

Daenerys dragged him up by a handful of his hair for a messy kiss, tasting the musky tang of herself.

“I told you: I haven’t had my fill of you. Not by half,” she said, her voice a low purr. Jon moaned, slithering down her body with a jagged string of kisses. Settled between her thighs, his pleasure-dark eyes met hers.

“More?” he asked, petting her pubic hair tenderly.

“More,” Daenerys said, arching her hips.

Jon attacked her with pleasure. Wide soft laps with the flat of his tongue, gentle kisses interspersed with hard suckling. Daenerys climbed higher and higher only to fall. Pleasure was clenching shudder, roaring in her ears. The pleasure was cruel, only whetting a deeper hunger. She felt wild, greedily grasping for more. His name became a hoarse litany from her lips. Jon’s dark eyes met hers across the heaving, sweat-damp terrain of her body.

“Oh yes, Dany. So good,” he rasped, breathing a tender kiss on her pearl. Daenerys moaned, petting his tangled hair. She mustered a smile.

“A natural, like I said. Come here to me, Jon.”

Jon took his time, his hands smoothing up her sides, nuzzling and kissing the soft undercurve of her breasts. His stubble rasped her skin in a delicious caress. Daenerys twined her limbs around him, languid with pleasure. His mouth tasted of musk and salt, his cock throbbed stiff against her belly. Daenerys twisted him beneath her, grinding against his cock. Jon’s throat flexed as he swallowed hard.

“Gods, you’re so beautiful. Wait, wait. I forgot to ask before. What if . . . what if I get you with child?” he asked, his thumb stroking her hipbone. The words were a dart straight to her heart. Without armor, Daenerys reeled from the blow.  

“That’s . . . that’s not possible. I am . . . barren,” she said, her tongue stumbling over the words. Despite two years as Drogo’s bride, she had not quickened once. After his death, there was talk amongst his bloodriders of sending his defunct wife to the dosh khaleen. Qotho paid for such words, tied to Drogo’s pyre.

“I’m sorry,” Jon said, looking miserable.

Daenerys cupped his cheek, leaning down to kiss him. The sweetness of it struck her vulnerable heart. The kiss spun on, stretching and twisting into something hotter, deeper. Gods, he was so sweet and open and giving. Jon’s hands smoothed down her back, cupping her hips. A longing ache throbbed between her thighs. Daenerys braced her hands flat on his chest, poising her hips over his length. A hot jolt of pleasure surged as his cockhead bumped her pearl, then the sweet silky glide inside—Daenerys broke the kiss to moan. The blunt head felt so good penetrating her. She slid off and repeated the motion, teasing him.

“Yes yes yes, . . . oh fuck,” Jon said, tendons standing out in his throat. His fingertips flexed, dimpling the tender flesh of her hips.

“Dany, please. Take more of it. Take more, please!” he panted between gasping breaths. Daenerys sank down, taking him deep inside. Jon cried out, hands clenching on her hips. Gods, he looked so wanton. Mouth slack, eyes glazed, sweat dewed on the ridged muscle of his body . . . She found she loved teasing him, driving him mad.

Daenerys rocked over him in a sinuous rhythm. Mmm, his cock was made for her. Thick and long, stirring pleasure with each stroke. Both of them were overwrought from prolonged bedplay. Soon they were locked in a hard pace, fucking fiercely. Sweat and heat poured off her, her heartbeat matching the thunder of his. The bed creaked and squeaked beneath them.

Trapped in his hot gaze, Daenerys whimpered, her thighs trembling as she strove for the shimmering edge. Almost . . . oh gods! She was lost in the roaring in her ears, in the pleasure burning through her like a ravaging fever. Jon howled beneath her, clinging to her like a shipwrecked survivor as he met his own release. Tangled together in that warm darkness.  

When she could breathe again, Daenerys rolled off him, dragging the tangled blankets over them.

“Dany,” Jon said, kissing her forehead. His grip was jealously tight around her. Daenerys relaxed boneless into his embrace, listening to the music of his heartbeat. The tranquil moment was broken when his stomach gave a loud gurgle. Daenerys giggled, peering up at his profile. His mouth twitched in a reluctant smirk.

“I’m starved,” he said.

“I brought food. That’s why I left before.” Jon grinned, pressing a smacking kiss to her forehead.

“You are a wonder, Daenerys Stormborn.”

He leapt from bed, stretching with catlike grace. Daenerys’ eye slid appreciatively down from the broad shoulders, down the sleek muscle back, raked with her red scratches to the tender rounds of his arse, the hard, hairy strength of his thighs and calves down to his bare feet. He was a picture of masculine beauty.  

“I couldn’t carry any water or wine. There’s none to be had in here,” she said, swathing herself in the sheet.

“I’ll check the hall and Lord Tyrion’s chamber. He always has wine,” Jon said, staggering into his trousers. Jon smiled, capturing her hand to kiss the back.

“I’ll return shortly.”

Daenerys stared at the door as it closed behind him. She thumped flat on the squeaking bed, exhaling a deep sigh. She found more than she bargained for at the masque. She certainly hadn’t expected to fall in love.    

                                                       ~

 Jon looped a finger through the carafe handle, snagging two chalices with his free hand. One of water, one of Tyrion’s favorite Dornish red. Perfect. Does Dany prefer red or gold? I wonder if--

“Look what the shadowcat dragged in,” Tyrion’s wine-slurred voice said. Jon started, his heart thundering in his ears.

“Gods above, you startled me!” Jon said. He was no stranger to seeing Tyrion in every stage of inebriation. Tonight, his cheeks were flushed, mismatched eyes dazed, but his legs were steady. Perhaps on his second carafe, then. Tyrion chuckled.

“Small fellows are the sneakiest. Fit under most tables, in cupboards. I’d make an excellent spy,” he drawled, chortling at his own jape.

“Where’s Shae?” Jon asked.

Though a secret to most save for Jon and he suspected his lord father, Tyrion was a married man. After his father died and his brother took the black, Tyrion was one of the most eligible bachelors in Westeros. Few knew he’d wed a Pentoshi whore named Shae in a secret wedding. She posed as a handmaiden to a minor Crownlands baroness.

“Downstairs. We won’t be disturbing you and your bedfellow,” Tyrion said with an arched brow. Jon felt his cheeks heat. He was painfully aware of his naked chest, bare feet and unlaced trousers. Jon shoved his fingers through his tangled hair. A swift glance toward the stair found it empty.

“Good for you. Sixteen is a good age for bedding. She sounded like she was enjoying it thoroughly.” Jon’s face burned.

“Really?” Jon asked shyly, caught between embarrassment and pride. Tyrion leaned against the column with a wince. His legs always ached after prolonged standing.

“As an authority on feigned pleasure, I can vouch that it sounded genuine,” Tyrion drawled.

Jon couldn’t control the smile stretching his face.

“I think I love her.” The words tumbled out of their own accord. Looking within, Jon found them to be true. This time, Tyrion’s smile was pained.

“That too is natural. Pleasure boils the mind into soup. It will pass.”

Jon frowned. It wasn’t just the bedding, though that alone would be enough for him to chase her across the world. It was the way her smile made his heart flip in his chest, her aura of mystery and authority, how sadness made her eyes darken to the deep blue of the sea and how he longed to banish it.  

“She wishes to return to the Free Cities. I want to follow her.” Voiced aloud, it was foolishness. Like it or not, he as a prince of the Seven Kingdoms.

“She must be an exemplary companion to make my broody friend such a romantic. I’d like to meet her,” Tyrion said, with a glance toward the stair. Jon shifted, blocking his view.

“Perhaps another time,” Jon said stiffly. He didn’t want to share Dany with anyone, not yet. They had until dawn together, before the world outside intruded. Tyrion nodded.

“A word of advice from a fellow romantic: guard your heart. It’s more easily fooled than you might think.” Tyrion plucked the carafe of Arbor gold from the sideboard and waddled down the stair.

Jon stared at the fresco of flying birds on the wall, pondering Tyrion’s words. The joy he found with Daenerys would be worth it. Jon leapt up the stairs two at a time, his heart in his throat, half-afraid he’d be left behind . . .  

“Come try this boar, it’s delicious!” Daenerys said as he nudged the cracked door open with his shoulder. Jon’s smiled, relief loosening taut muscles. Her answering grin made warmth bubble in his chest. Gods, she was gorgeous: sitting cross-legged on the rumpled bed wrapped in a sheet, hair a delightful silver tumble.

“I’m starved,” Jon said.

The tray held a bounty of food. Jon stomach rumbled, his mouth filling with water.  Daenerys offered him a chunk of boar, dripping with juice. Jon ate the morsel from her hand, playfully licking seasoning from her fingers. The widening of her eyes told him she wasn’t unaffected. Jon rolled his eyes in exaggerated delight, earning a sweet little giggle. Though cold, the morsel was tender and flavorful. Leaning off the bed, he riffled for his discarded belt and his eating knife. Together, they sandwiched boar and potatoes between torn hunks of bread. With the point of the knife, he fed her juicy shreds of pear and crisps of bacon. Daenerys sipped the Dornish red with great relish, Jon noticed. The silence between them was companionable as they ate.

“What are my brothers like?” Daenerys asked after a moment, commandeering the eating knife to smear mashed tuber and goatcheese on a hunk of bread. Jon sipped the cold soup, the flavors bursting rich and savory on his tongue as he considered his reply.

“My lord father is the greatest man in the realms. A peerless warrior, a master statesman, an accomplished musician. Uncle Viserys is of the same noble blood,” Jon said. One of her dark blond eyebrow rose in an expression so like his lord father’s, Jon’s gut lurched. How had he not known her to be Targaryen in the first moment the mask fell?

“You’re lying.”

“I beg your pardon, my lady?” Jon said, a hard swallow of wine making his eyes water. Daenerys grinned, nudging Jon’s knee with her own.

“I have been on my own since I was nine. I learned how to spot a lie at five paces,” she said, pausing to sip her wine. A drop beaded on the corner of her mouth and Jon checked the impulse to lick it away. Jon gave a tight shrug, chewing on a couple candied almonds without tasting them.

“It wasn’t entirely a lie. My lord father is what I said.”  

“But?” Daenerys probed gently.

“But he is afflicted by bouts of melancholy. A shadow hangs over him. I am the walking, talking reminder of the woman he loved and lost. As such, h—he sent me away to my mother’s people when I was young.” The words were salt on his oldest wounds, and saying them aloud made his nerves raw. Daenerys folded her hand into his, as easy as breathing.

“I’m sorry.”

Jon squeezed her hand, relishing the easy comfort behind the gesture.

“Thank you, Dany.” She smiled at the appellation.

“I’ve never been close enough to anyone to share nicknames. Ser Darry was kind, but a simple man. After he died, the Sealord of Braavos housed me, but grew too amorous for my tastes. I wandered around each of the Free Cities and beyond before I caught Khal Drogo’s eye.”

“The Dothraki are said to be a fearsome people,” Jon said, his heart giving a sharp flip at the thought of her alone and in peril. Daenerys gave a measured nod, snagging another honeycake from the plate.

“They are also loyal, brave, and welcoming to those who show interest in their way,” Daenerys said, “after my dragons hatched, many chose to follow me as their khal. Never has that been in the history of the world.”

“You are a wonder,” Jon said dropping a kiss on back of her captive hand. I’d follow you too, if you asked. To the ends of the earth.

Those bright eyes met his, a sharp thrill. Her expression was serious, almost stern. Jon stiffened, in an agony in the silence. The moment stretched on, rich with unspoken words. Daenerys broke it by leaning close to kiss him, soft as summer. Jon hummed in pleasure, relishing the taste of Dornish red on her mouth.

“And you are a surprise. Come here to me, Jon. We will worry about all else in the morning,” she said, letting the sheet drop. Jon sucked in a breath at her glorious body. He set aside the tray and carafes and returned to bed. It was no use guarding his heart against her. It was already hers.

[jonsalways]

The significance of children

Okey, I'm not sure people already talked about this and I'm writing it on my phone so you gotta forgive twice.

I was just rewatching GoT last night and got hit by Varys' line " If Daenerys Targaryen has a son, the whole realm will bleed" at season 1.

I'm not talking about the amount of foreshadowing about Daenerys never have a children of her own blood in the books cuz I've told it before. But this whole scene made me question the meaning of children in both Jon, Daenerys and Sansa's narrative.

Pls help me with this post if you remember more than me but...

Ever since the beginning Jon has been put under circumstances where he has to take care of, protect or worry a lot about children.

We have a first Bran who has fallen from the tower and was a subject of great concern for Jon in the first book.

Later the show introduced Olly's character which Jon cared deeply through the episodes.

In the books GRRM put both Mance's and Gilly's son under his care in a way that not only Jon feels extremely concerned about their safety but he also makes plans to make sure the kids may live happily.

In the show Jon's narrative also included Lyanna Mormont and Ned Umber as characters Jon is somehow responsible for.

And at last let's not forget how Rickon is at season 6 one of the many reasons Jon went to war.

As for Sansa she keeps finding children as well.

Lady Tandra's daughter who got pregnant after being raped in KL is often referred in her chapters. Myrcella and Thommen are too. She even interact with this kids time to time.

Later young Robert Arryn is put under her care in the Vale. And in the show she has almost the same interactions with Lyanna, Ned and Rickon.

Being parents is a great concern for these two. Sansa as her future duty and for Jon as a prohibition. They both want to have kids but the narratives they got stuck into forbids them.

When we look at Daenerys thought things are quite different.

Kids often appear in her narrative as a trademark of death.

The 163 kids she saw crucified in the road, the little girl Drogon killed and keeps tormenting her thoughts through ADWD, and in the show the little warlock girl that tried to killed her when she meets Sir Barristan.

She has little interaction with these kids. In the show even Missandei that was supposed to be a little girl was turned into a grown woman. The symbolism of children in her narrative is very negative connected either with death or slavery.

When these characters look at the future they imagine different scenarios.

Jon often dreams about a son surrounded by other kids, mimicking his own childhood at Winterfell. Sansa imagines plenty of children of her own and Daenerys thinks of a little girl.

I have my reasons to think GRRM already foreshadowed Jon's future kids where Gilly's son takes his place as "bastard of Winterfell" after his mother's death in the books.

To me Sansa's narrative kinda puts her in a "mother's situation" same as Jon is put in a "father's situation". While Daenerys is although is called Mother and Mhysa is never truly a mother, at least not in the "family meaning" of the word.

I believe there's a reason for it, specially in the show where kids often surround Jon and Sansa scenes when they are together. It's also very funny how it never happens the same when Jon is with Daenerys, and when they talk about kids they are surrounded by dragons references, never real kids. A subtle hint of their future I'd dare to say.