#jorah and an old love

[manibolly]

Is that Jorah the Andal Mormont?

Jorah and an old love.

[deadwooddross]

How's Croc doing?

she's relaxing on vacation right now while I put Thavu (And Umami) in the blender instead, but she's never truly safe from the whims of the blorbo pain machine Keeping her safe in my pocket for the day I feel like doing a deep dive into a bounty/monster hunter type spin again tho...I didn't quite splash in there enough last time

[a-thousand-eyes-and-one]

daenerys targaryen if someone sat her down and told her that family doesnt have to mean blood

[15-lizards]

GRRM’s idea of what qualifies as pedophilia/grooming and what qualifies as romance needs to be studied under a microscope

[daenerys-targaryen]

the way dany sees right through men’s fancy words and gifts and sees the truth is so real. she’s not falling for any man’s bs

[kaerinio]

oh god, now i'm thinking about dany as a child, running around with her arms spread like wings, making roaring sounds! playing with dragon toys and stuffed animals and making flapping sounds and whistles and little roars! and whispering to the toys that she should like for them to grow, grow, grow large enough for her to climb onto their backs so she can touch the clouds!

[myladysapphire]

Forbidden

With a feud older than history, the Blackwoods and Brackens have long been enemies, but now, you, a daughter of lord Bracken, finds yourself in the arms of Benjicot Blackwood, and he will do everyhting it takes to make you his.

based of this request

word count: 3,893

cw: MDI, 18+, smut, dry humping, loss of virginity, p in v, fingering, making out, masturbation, violence, slight breeding kink, pregancy, not proofread!

Benjicot Blackwood x Bracken!fem!reader

dividers by @zaldritzosrose

Authors notes: a lot of ocs, alot of canon diveregence and based before the dance.

sorry this took so long to come out and so long for me to update in general! i wrote half of this and then decided to re do the whole thing entirely differently and then I got stuck and started writing two other things but here it is, enjoy!

“You will not marry him” your fathers voice bellowed.

You had begged and pleaded and yet there was no resolve, your father was adamant in a match with the lord Jorah Mallister a man near twice your age. And not a match with the man you held dear to your heart.

Benjicot Blackwood.

You had met him near six summers ago. For six years you had been courting him in private, away from all eyes but each other’s.

It had been easy to fall in love with him, with someone as kind and well mannered as he. But that wasn’t what had drawn you to him.

At the time neither of you knew which house the other belonged too, nor cared. There seemed to be something unexplainable that drew you to one another.

You were like twin flames, so similar and yet you were your own unique force but together you burned brighter.

But this wasn’t something your lord father could understand.

The feud between Blackwood and Bracken had spanned through time and was a never-ending factor. They would always despise one another, the true reason why lost to time and only fuel was added to the fire with each generation.

If the Blackwood’s stood on one side, you can guarantee the Brackens stood on the other.

The sides of their conflict varied, no one knowing the truth, neither history book nor legend.

With both houses being old and ancient, with blood of the first men running though their veins. Both claimed to be kings, the Blackwood’s claiming to have been kings of the wolfs wood before being driven south. And the Brackens had been kings of the Riverlands.

There it is said the Blackwood’s usurped the Bracken lands, where the Blackwood’s claimed the Brackens were petty lords and sells words hired to usurp them.

And though there had been a hundred peace’s between the families over the millennia, with every blackwood comes Bracken blood, and ever bracken comes blackwood blood. But no peace lasted long enough, and each peace ended with a larger wound than before.

When it comes between the two it is often a case of, he said or she said, no one wishes to get involved and no one knows the truth, and no matter the efforts of their overlord of kings, no truce lasted.

And all because of this, a feud neither of you wished to take part in, you were torn apart.

A marriage set between you and an old lord, and the turning of a key locking you in your rooms, separating you from him.

Your father thought it was some infatuation, when in fact it was everything.

You had met as children, playing on the border between your lands. He had tripped and fell over the border stones and you, with your friends having long run off at the sight of a blackwood came to aid him.

Tending to the small cut on his head, you teased him mercilessly, claiming he must be the best knight the Blackwood’s had if he would so easily cross the border as he did.

Andin truth that was how it all started, childish teasing, and the small gesture of caring for his small cut.

With days spent meeting at the border, playing as children did, you forged a bond. A bond that only strengthen as you were sent to ward with your mother’s family over.

With two summers spent together, the third apart it was clear much had changed when you went to meet at the border once more.

You had become a woman and he a man, and suddenly the childish games got lost and suddenly bashful smiles were exchanged in the place of teasing.

“How are you?” he has asked, having spent he summer with no word, unable to send each other letters, with fear of being caught and your friendship ending.

It was clear much had changed, your faces had lost the baby fat, he was now a head taller than you, whereas before you had towered over him. Your clothes had become that of a lady, no longer where your dressed hemmed to your ankles, your tunics and trousers thrown out in favour of gowns and jewels.

Your hair had grown long, and now adorned with jewels and accessories alike.

You looked everything of the lady you were expected to be and more. You had grown into your features, and he was struck by you.

It was almost like you were strangers again, with you blushing as you towards him and he unsure of how to act towards you know.

Stuttering your words, as you recounted your year, blushing as you told him of your kiss with one of the stable hands. How you had helped your aunt give birth, and how you had felt lonely without him, even though you only got to see him for a few hours every few days.

He had recounted his summer, how he had become a squire and his father had started giving him duties, fit for the future lord of Raventree.

The awkwardness left you both as the day passed and the sun set, you both left with a new view of the other. A year apart changing you from childhood friends to newfound crushes.

Neither of you cared that you were from rivalling families, the skirmishes between your cousins and his cousins and even him, never affecting you bar a small argument here and there.

As time passed and you both grew older you found most of your days spent with the other, and soon the friendly hand holding was exchanged for soft kisses and wandering hands.

If you were from any other house a marriage would have been easy, but neither of your fathers accepted the other, and as tensions grew and grew you lost any hope for a future with Ben.

You had kept your friendship, your companionship a secret, a well-kept secret no one not even your closest friends knew off.

Until two days ago.

The news of a betrothal had spurred you; you had run to the border to find Ben and beg him to run away.

But instead of Ben you found your oldest brother Amos, and a man you briefly recognised to be Bryden blackwood, a cousin to Ben. They seemed to be in some argument, over the boundary stones. Luckily no swords had been drawn yet.

You approached your brother cautiously.

“Amos” you started, nodding to the bracken men that stood with him.

“Sister…what are you doing her?” he asked, moving away from Bryden’s glare.

“I could ask you the same, aren’t you meant to patrol the border not step over it?” “I knew you changed the boarder stones!”

“I did not, my sister does not know what she speaks, she rarely comes here!”

“Rarely swear I’ve seen you before” he stepped closer to you, your brother slowly stood to stand in front of you. “Yes…I know you, you’re that girl my cousins spends his days with! hah a Bracken bitch”.

“What does he speak of!” your brother demanded.

“Nothing, I don’t know- “

Ben walked over, a laugh set on his face and hand on his sword, ready to fight if needed. “What is going on here?” he said, facing falling as he saw you.

Bryden turned to face him, “We were simply observing the border stones before your bitch came along”.

“What did you call her?” both Ben and Amos questioned, tone stern and glares set on Bryden.

“a Bracken Bitch” he punctuated each word, stepping closer to Amos, only to be dragged away by Ben and a punch landing swiftly on his face.

Ben’s fists pounded Bryden’s face, blood spattering as groans left Bryden’s lips, ben only stopped as his uncle, Wilheim came running up and pulled him away.

“What is going on here!”

“Your nephew insulted my sister” Amos spoke, his hand reaching for his sword.

“And why is Benjicot bloody blackwood taking it out on him?” he near screamed.

You looked tot eh floor, to scared to speak.

“He called her my Bracken…my Bracken bitch” Ben spoke, his eyes glued to your form as you nervously kicked at the border stones.

Wilheim gave Ben and exasperate look, “is its true boy?”

You looked up, feeling all eyes on yours.

“yes” he said, his face downcast in shame. Not shame for being with you, for the moments you shared or the love he felt but for the way it was revealed, for how you had been spoken off and the laughs that irrupted at the news.

Wilheim pulled him closer, “is she still?” everyone knew what he was asking, no matter how discrete he tried to be.

You knew the answer, and you knew no matter what came out of Bens mouth your brother would be forced to tell your father and your father would demand the maester check your maidenhead, something he wouldn’t find.

As you waited for Ben to answer your mind went back to six moons ago.

Your mind went back to six moons ago.

It was your nameday, you had escaped the celebrations and made your way to the border, where ben awaited gift in hand.

“Happy name day” he greeted, pulling you in for a hug, his face buried in your neck.

“Thank you” you breathed, your touches lingering as you pulled apart, his face close too yours.

Your eyes were locked to his, as you hesitated to step away.

“My gift?” you asked, as you stepped back ever so slightly, noticing the lingering gaze on your lips.

He smiled shyly, before presenting you the gift.

The gift, a book you had long desired. You had been unable to find it anywhere and yet, Ben had found it just for you.

“Ben” you breathed, at a loss for words as you started up at him, a shy smile on his face. “Thank you”, you said taking a step towards him once more, your body’s now impossible close.

“It was no problem” he breathed, your faces breaths apart.

A blush filled your cheeks as you leant forward your lips catching his in a soft slow kiss.

Your mouths moved in tandem, slow and soft as his hands came up to grip your waist, pulling you into him as your kiss became sloppier, his tongue teasing its way into your mouth as your hands came up to grip his hair, your lips never breaking.

Had you not been where anyone could find you, you where sure the kiss would never end, but the fear of being caught, your reputation ruined spurned you to push yourself away from him.

“we should go somewhere more private” you breathed, “out of prying eyes” “won’t they notice if your gone much longer?” “I doubt it, I said the wine had gone to my head and my maid, Farrah was more than happy to vouch the same, and that I wish to be left alone after I gave her 10 silver dragons.”

He laughed, “there is an inn nearby, perhaps we could go there?”

“An inn?” you asked a small smile on your face.

He nodded, “I know you may not wish to spend your nameday in an inn- “ “I wish to spend it with you” you interrupted, “I do not care where”.

And so, you had gone to the inn, it was barren when you got in, not many traveling to kings’ road so near winter, a room was easy to find and for the first time you were truly away from prying eyes.

The room was quaint, at least compared to what you were used too, with a double bed in the centre of the room, a small tub and chamber pot on one side and a dresser and table on the other.

“Will anyone question if you are gone long?” you asked, taking off your cloak.

You knew he most likely wouldn’t, having more freedom than you as a man and heir.

“Perhaps, but as long as I ma back by dawn I doubt I will get in any trouble.”

You nodded, “you leave often in the night then?” you teased, a smirk playing on your lips.

He coughed awkwardly, “my uncle and my cousins, Bryden, Davos and Bennifer took me to a brothel for my nameday”.

“a Brothel?” you asked in surprise, though there was a hint in jealousy in your voice, “and did you?

“No!” he said quickly, “no I wouldn’t do that” to you, he wanted to say, but up until today you hadn’t done anything, bar hold hands and lingering touches here and there.

You smiled, standing up and walking up to him, he seemed frozen, unsure of what to do or what his intentions were of even bringing you here.

You moved cautiously, your hand reaching for his as you moved yourself into his embrace.

Your fingers interlocking with his, “ben” you whispered.

And he whispered your name back, smiling as he did.

“I love you” you spoke, no hesitation in your voice.

“I love you” he breathed back, his face full of uninhibited joy.

Your lips captured his once more, this time it was full of passion, your lips moving together in tandem, his hands moving to your waist and pulling you effortlessly closer to him.

With one hand still interlocked with his, the other reached up and gripped his hair pulling him even closer to you.

Your mouths never broke apart, even as a soft moan left your lips as his tongue moved with yours.

 You started to step back slowly, dragging him with you until your back hit the bed, Bens body covering yours, his hips slowly began to grind against yours, feeling his clothed cock through his breeches as he grinded against your heat.

You moaned softly into his mouth as your body’s moved together.

“Ben” you groaned, as his lips separated from yours and moved to your neck, pressing quick sloppy kisses before leaning over you his eyes staring into yours.

He whispered your name, “do you want to keep going?”

You nodded, leaning up to reach for the laces of your gown, you never broke eye contact as you untied your dress, allowing it to fall slightly and reveal our thin chemise.

He blushed at the sight, leaning back and allowing you to fully remove your dress, before you reached for him and started to undo the ties of his tunic and breaches.

You moved slowly, taking him in as you undid his clothes, your touches lingering as you finally revealed his naked chest.

Now only in your small clothes, he reached over you once more, his body covering yours and his lips once again capturing yours.

Your bodies continued to move against each other the friction casing moans and groans to fall from his lips and yours.

Your chemise bunching up at your waist, revealing your wet cunt to Ben.

“gods” he said, feeling your bare cunt rub against his length, “his hands moved from where he had placed them at your waist to move along your thighs.

He swallowed slightly as your legs began to part, baring yourself to him.

“Do you ever touch yourself?” he asked, his fingers moved closer to your heat.

“yes” you breathed as he lightly teased your folds.

“Show me”

You breathe grew heavy, as you nervously moved your fingers down the length of your body.

Ben moved back from you as your finger dipped into your folds, gathering up your silk.

Circling your clit is slow motions, you never broke eye contact, soft moans leaving your mouth.

With one fingering circling your clit you began to dip another into your folds, circling and teasing yourself before finally plunging a finger into your hole.

You let out a moan as you did, slowly pumping your finger in and out of you.

“Gods, your beautiful,” Ben said, his hand coming to meet yours as he swiftly replaced your fingers, plunging two fingers into your hole.

You let out a high-pitched moan. The feel of his fingers was nothing compared to yours, the pleasure entirely different, even more so when his thumb came to circle your clit.

“Like this?” he asked, his movements unsure as he watched you and took in every moan or whimper you made.

“Yes! Gods yes” you said, feeling your peak wash over you as his fingers moved faster in and out of you.

You breathed heavily, sinking into the mattress as you rode out your peak.

“Good?” he asked, reaching forward to press a soft kiss to your mouth.

“yes” you said, before sitting up and reaching for the bottom of your chemise.

“Are you sure?” he asked, as you began to take of the last layer of clothing.

You smiled, nodding your head, and revealing yourself to him.

He moaned at the sight of you, getting impossible hard as he took you in.

He stood of the bed slowly, moving to take of his final layer and bare himself to you.

You groaned at the sight, “come here” you breathed.

He slowly crawled back onto the bed, his body covering yours once more as he took your lips in a passionate and heated kiss, his legs slowly parted yours as he positioned himself at your entrance.

“Are you sure?” he asked softly, moving to caress your face.

Nodding, you reached up to kiss him, “yes”.

And with that he slowly entered you.

Groaning at the stretch, you felt a slight sting as he slowly entered you, your face contorted in quick discomfort that quickly faded as he settled himself fully inside you, allowing you time to adjust.

He seemed lost tin pleasure at the feeling of your heat wrapped around his length, his face buried in the nape of your neck as he held back from moving.

“You can move” you breathed after a minute, hands wrapping around his neck as you moved your hips to urge him.

He moved slowly, pumping in and out of you, learning every move that made you moan or whimper.

He kissed slowly at your neck as his hips pumped in and out of you, his groans muffled by your neck as he began to pump faster and harder.

Your moans grew more frequent, your hand reaching down to rub at your clit as you felt the familiar feel of your peak hitting you once more, it was fast but no less pleasurable as you and he reached your peak simultaneously.

He swiftly removed himself and finished on your stomach, as your fingers continued to circle your clit, as you rode out your peak.

“gods” you laughed, after a few minutes, ben having gone to get a cloth to clean you up. “I hadn’t expected this for my nameday” you said reaching for him and pulling him into for a kiss once more.

You spent the night wrapped in his embrace, dawn coming faster than you had hoped and you were soon sneaking back into your rooms.

As the moons passed your meetings became ones of lovers, with romantic rendezvous with disguises as you went to Fairmarket parading as smallfolk away from prying eyes.

Your nights spent in each other’s embrace, whether it was in the inn or under the stary sky.

Now six moons later, you did not regret that night or the nights that followed, but the look of disappointment your brother gave you made you wish a part of you desired to take it back.  

“no” Benji spoke, answering his uncle’s question of your maidenhead.

“You will marry” he spoke, your father will approve it and I’m sure we could do with peace with our too sides, with the talk of war and all”.

But your father had instantly refused, saying he would rather a whore for a daughter than a blackwood.

You had been locked in your room for three moons, wedding arrangements made for you a lord Mallister.

You had been unable to escape to leave and see Ben, your every move watched and monitored. Though you had heard he had demanded to see you, begging for your hand and even challenging lord Mallister to a duel.

All had been refused and you were starting to lose all hope of ever seeing him again.

Then there was a tap at your window.

“Ben!” you whisper shouted, seeing him hanging onto the wall for dear life as you opened the window to let him in.

“How did you- “you began to ask only to be cut of with a demanding kiss as Bens lips attacked yours.

“I have missed you” he breathed as you pushed you down onto the bed and began to untie his breeches. “My father agrees we should wed.” he started, kissing you again, as he began to bunch up your skirts, revealing your heat to him. “He says the only way your father would accept us to marry his if you were pregnant” he breathed, his breaches now around his ancles as his finger began to tease your hole.

“Pregnant?” you questioned, “he said he’d rather me a whore than a blackwood” you said, moaning as he began to pump in fingers in and out of your entrance.

“Your father is also a devout man of the faith, is he not” he said, fingers pumping in and out of you.

“yes” you moaned, “and you and your family are followers of the old gods…he would never- “you cut yourself off with a moan as his cock replaced his fingers, plunging in and out of you at fast pace.

“And yet he said to my father that if a babe came, he would allow it…and yet he kept you from me, from any chance of us” he groaned, leaning down to kiss you as he felt your walls clench around his cock as you came.

“I am going to fuck a baby into you, going to fill you up with my seed” he groaned, “I will come, climb the walls of your castle every night until you a bred and then we shall get married and you will me mine, not that cunt Mallister!” his tone was harsh, but as his eyes bore into yours you saw the longing, the love and sense of purpose as he fucked you like he had never fucked you before.

It was primal, pure animalistic as he fucked his seed into you.

He lay on top of you, his cock still in you as you both caught your breath.

That night he took you in more ways than you could count, and in the breath moments his cock wasn’t filling you he recounted his days apart from you.

But as dawn broke, he was forced to leave, just like every other night you shred in each other’s arms.

But he fulfilled his promise visiting you every night until your moons blood stopped, and a pregnancy was confirmed.

Your father was furious, hated how you had defied him, found away to see Ben once more, and now he was forced to marry you.

With a slight swollen belly, it was no secret of why the Brackens and Blackwood’s once again decided to try at peace, even more so when Ben could hardly wait for the bedding ceremony to take you as his wife.

Taglist

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to be added to taglist

[rainhadaenerys]

The fake and the real Lightbringer

“You want to see Lightbringer? A blind man?” [...] “Tell me, Samwell.” Maester Aemon touched his arm. “It glows,” said Sam, in a hushed voice. “As if it were on fire. There are no flames, but the steel is yellow and red and orange, all flashing and glimmering, like sunshine on water, but prettier. I wish you could see it, Maester.” “I see it now, Sam. A sword full of sunlight. So lovely to behold.” The old man bowed stiffly. “Your Grace. My lady. This was most kind of you.” When King Stannis sheathed the shining sword, the room seemed to grow very dark, despite the sunlight streaming through the window. [...] Maester Aemon was lost in thought as Sam helped him down the narrow turnpike stair. But as they were crossing the yard, he said, “I felt no heat. Did you, Sam?” “Heat? From the sword?” He thought back. “The air around it was shimmering, the way it does above a hot brazier.” “Yet you felt no heat, did you? And the scabbard that held this sword, it is wood and leather, yes? I heard the sound when His Grace drew out the blade. Was the leather scorched, Sam? Did the wood seem burnt or blackened?” “No,” Sam admitted. “Not that I could see.” Maester Aemon nodded. - Samwell V ASOS

~

“No,” the old man said. “It must be you. Tell them. The prophecy . . . my brother’s dream . . . Lady Melisandre has misread the signs. Stannis . . . Stannis has some of the dragon blood in him, yes. His brothers did as well. Rhaelle, Egg’s little girl, she was how they came by it . . . their father’s mother . . . she used to call me Uncle Maester when she was a little girl. I remembered that, so I allowed myself to hope . . . perhaps I wanted to . . . we all deceive ourselves, when we want to believe. Melisandre most of all, I think. The sword is wrong, she has to know that . . . light without heat . . . an empty glamor . . . the sword is wrong, and the false light can only lead us deeper into darkness, Sam. Daenerys is our hope. [...]” - Samwell IV AFFC

~

“I looked at that book Maester Aemon left me. The Jade Compendium. The pages that told of Azor Ahai. Lightbringer was his sword. Tempered with his wife’s blood if Votar can be believed. Thereafter Lightbringer was never cold to the touch, but warm as Nissa Nissa had been warm. In battle the blade burned fiery hot. [...]” Clydas blinked. “A sword that makes its own heat …” “… would be a fine thing on the Wall.” Jon put aside his wine cup and drew on his black moleskin gloves. “A pity that the sword that Stannis wields is cold. I’ll be curious to see how his Lightbringer behaves in battle. [...]” - Jon III ADWD

~

Viserion sensed her disquiet. The white dragon lay coiled around a pear tree, his head resting on his tail. When Dany passed his eyes came open, two pools of molten gold. His horns were gold as well, and the scales that ran down his back from head to tail. “You’re lazy,” she told him, scratching under his jaw. His scales were hot to the touch, like armor left too long in the sun. Dragons are fire made flesh. She had read that in one of the books Ser Jorah had given her as a wedding gift. - Daenerys I ADWD

~

“Drogon,” she screamed. “Drogon.” His head turned. Smoke rose between his teeth. His blood was smoking too, where it dripped upon the ground. - Daenerys IX ADWD

~

Black blood was flowing from the wound where the spear had pierced him, smoking where it dripped onto the scorched sands. He is fire made flesh, she thought, and so am I. - Daenerys IX ADWD

~

She remembered the dragon twisting beneath her, shuddering at the impacts, as she tried desperately to cling to his scaled back. The wounds were smoking. Dany saw one of the bolts burst into sudden flame. - Daenerys X ADWD

[goodqueenaly]

If an unmarried knight wins a tourney, or if he is married but his wife isn't in attendance, who would be acceptable choices for him to crown "Queen of Love and Beauty"?

I don’t think this is a question with a simple blanket answer, because the choice would always be dependent on both the socio-politico-dynastic circumstances of each given tourney as well as the respective motivations and ambitions of each such champion. (And indeed, apart from Rhaegar every example we have of a knight choosing a woman or girl to honor has featured an unmarried man making the choice.) Take, for instance, instances of knights crowning queens of love and beauty to curry favor with the ruling royal families of their respective times. No one would have thought that Simon Dondarrion, winning the Dragonpit tourney in 55 AC, was making a romantic gesture toward Princess Daenerys, all of two years old, when he named her queen of love and beauty; Simon had clearly recognized how much the royal couple doted on their (then) only surviving child (an impression perhaps gleaned from their visit to him at Blackhaven the year prior) and saw giving such a public chivalric honor to the princess as a way to make a lasting good impression on the king and queen. Similarly, Ryam Redwyne - who, very much like his indirect descendant Loras Tyrell, probably accurately judged the Kingsguard as the best possible career option for a hugely talented but dynastically extraneous third son - made sure to make a good impression on the king and queen by choosing Alysanne as the queen of love and beauty in the king’s tenth anniversary tourney - though Ryam perhaps decided that Queen Alysanne was a safer choice than Princess Daenerys, who now had two younger brothers and, by consequence, may have appeared somewhat less important by comparison in patriarchal, aristocratic Westerosi society. Likewise, whatever romantic feelings would develop or be rumored to have developed later between Criston Cole and Rhaenyra, as an up and coming young knight (and, crucially, one with clear talent but a lack of elite aristocratic credentials) at the Maidenpool tourney in honor of the new King Viserys Ser Criston correctly recognized the offer of the victor’s laurel to the king’s much loved daughter as a perhaps more direct route to royal favor.  

It’s also possible for a knight to use the crown of the queen of love and beauty as an opportunity for a declaration, not so much to impress the royals (or respective hosts) or a particular lady as to impress a message upon the onlookers. The example we have of this is Prince Aemon, disguising himself as the “Knight of Tears” to crown Queen Naerys the queen of love and beauty. Facing the prospect of his brother’s mistress sitting as the tourney queen, Aemon decided that only his chivalric intervention could save his beloved sister-queen from a further public humiliation courtesy of their mutually loathed brother. The message was clear: the personification of chivalry mourned to see a queen so badly treated, and would himself compete to make sure that she, and not the woman the king was betraying his marital vows for, would receive her due honors. 

Too, it is entirely possible for unmarried knights to use the opportunity of a tourney victory, and the choice of a queen of love and beauty, to make a public statement of their romantic sentiment. Barristan Selmy expected to do as much had he won at Harrenhal, bypassing the absent queen and the present crown princess to honor Ashara Dayne (though I doubt too many would have looked askance at Barristan doing so, given his longstanding public fidelity to the ideals of the Kingsguard). Ser Bonifer Hasty did do so for the young Rhaella, though whether Bonifer actually believed that such a grand gesture would be enough for a mere landed knight to win the hand of a royal princess is far from clear. Jorah Mormont, though, for his part certainly saw the crown of the queen of love and beauty as the fulfillment of his desire for Lynesse Hightower - and again, while this statement alone may not have been enough to win her hand, other factors I think helped Jorah’s bid to marry Lynesse. Too, while we don’t know that a queen of love and beauty would be named at the upcoming tourney at the Gates of the Moon (and I doubt that tourney will end as expected anyway), I think Sansa at the very least plans to give her favor to the participant who would most annoy her would-be fiancé, Harry Hardyng - the more, perhaps, to ensure that Harry would look to give her the queen of love and beauty’s crown. 

[kingcunny]

thank you sm!! <3

ive made a couple posts about balerion and viserys before, and i got another one in the works in my drafts. like im obviously biased but theyre one of my favorite dragon-rider bonds, even though they were only together for a year.

jorah in the main series says at one point that targaryen dragons were bred for war, and in war they died. balerion being the last of the valyria-born dragons probably has this instinct better than most. he takes aegon i as his rider because aegon is a conqueror, and is going to use him for the purpose he was born for.

the aegon i -> maegor line i think is pretty easy to understand. just like aegon i, maegor is also a conqueror. balerion sees in him that same war-instinct that he saw in aegon i, that he himself has.

maegor -> aerea is where things start to shift. balerion is an old war machine, but his last two riders died outside of war and away from him. aegon i from a stroke, maegor was eaten by the iron throne. hes made his lair on his not-quite-home dragonstone, when this upset little girl who misses the excitement of her life at court climbs on his back and tells him to take her home. i think balerion was fairly homesick at this point and thought “*i* want to go home too.” so he takes them home. back to his home. except balerion doesnt know that his home as been destroyed while he was gone. he spends those years with aerea *searching* for anything, any sign that the valyria that he remembers is still there. but theres nothing. its doomed and filled with monsters now. aerea spends the whole time begging him to take her back home, back to her mother. its only after hes injured and aerea is deathly ill that hes forced to accept that this is no longer their home. theres nothing here for them anymore, they dont belong here anymore than he belongs in westeros. so balerion reluctantly takes aerea back. maybe theres something they can do to save her, or failing that, at least shell be able to die in her home even if he cant die in his. after this balerion becomes the first dragon chained in the dragonpit.

finally, aerea -> viserys. i think viserys felt fairly alienated from the rest of his family, as he was so different from any of the other men he was related to. but he was raised to idolize old valyria (or at least the targaryens version of it) and feels that if he can claim balerion, if the last living aspect of valyria accepted him, well that means theres *something* targaryen in him. balerion was the living god of the thing he was raised to worship. when alyssa wanted to claim balerion, the dragonkeepers dissuaded her by telling her hes old and slow now, and wouldnt she rather a younger more energetic mount? i wonder if they tried the same thing with viserys, but viserys wouldnt care about that. thats not why viserys wanted balerion. all viserys wanted was balerions acceptance. balerion is very old now, old and tired and in pain. hes a war machine that can no longer fight, a dragon that can barely fly. but hes still holding on. he cant die yet. viserys is very different from balerions other riders, and i think that was the point. balerion could tell viserys didnt want anything from him, other than *him*. so balerion accepted viserys as he was, and viserys accepts balerion as he is. balerion gives viserys his final flight and thats enough for him. more than that even, after their first and last flight viserys tells baelon he wanted to fly to dragonstone but was worried that balerion wouldnt survive the flight. he was *worried for balerion*, worried about *his* health and safety and comfort. when has he had another rider care about him like that? (when has any dragon tbh...) viserys doesnt want to put more on balerion than he can handle. whatever balerion can offer him is enough. all viserys wanted was his love, and he got that. so he loves and comforts balerion in his final days. balerion doesnt have a home anymore, but viserys gives him one inside himself. he loves balerion enough to let him go. to let balerion finally lay down and rest.

(sorry for the screenshot answer i accidentally posted it before i was done <3)

[agentrouka-blog]

Asoiaf is so great with parallels and I am always thinking about the parallels between Sansa and Dany. Dany getting married off at 13 but the marriage being consummated and "happy" (in her mind) vs Sansa getting married off at 12 and the marriage not being consummated but still miserable and tense. Drogo being a rapist who "reforms" (lol) vs Tyrion's descent into becoming the sort of person who would do that to the sunset girl. Both girls thinking they're the last of their house (with Dany using it as motivation and justification for conquering/claiming her "birthright" vs others using it/using Sansa to scheme their way to her "birthright"). Embracing the (blood) magic of her family by "birthing" dragons (symbol of her house) vs being cut off from the (blood) magic of her house and having her wolf (symbol of her house) be murdered. Having a disgusting old man creep on her, with the kiss scenes being described similarly - trying to fight them off but initially being pulled in deeper (Jorah and LF). Really sad to think about. I really do believe that Dany is a very tragic figure, I wish her stans hadn't made it so impossible for me to like her

It really is horrible to see just what kind of objectification or sense of loss runs through their parallels, and at the same time what it highlights about them. These are young girls. And the are under constant assault.

The parallels to Sansa highlight the true vulnerability and hidden misery in the story, which Dany tries to pave over with her identity as blood of the dragon (and her literal dragons), and her denial about the repulsive nature of the men abusing her. It highlights the many ways this young girl was never ever spared, never loved or protected as she should have been. And like the male villains with whom she shares these traits, when she does gain power, she is not magically pure of heart and effective and wise and humane in her actions. She returns to the world what the world gave her, and it's harsh. Because while her aims may be good in her eyes, she never adjusted her understanding of justice or of acceptable tools. A very current phenomenon. A very universally human character, ultimately.

The parallels to Dany highlight the potential for power and agency that Sansa has been prevented from gaining so far, but also the ways in which the things she was shown compassion and safety. The ways she was loved or had the luxury to be innocent have made her resiliant and emotionally grounded enough to give that back to others without sliding into extremes.

They are both similar and very different, and in the ways GRRM spares Sansa while not sparing Dany, which can seem deeply unfair, GRRM is trying to illustrate something about the destructive power of unprocessed trauma.

Like, granted, he does with 75% of his entire cast of characters.

[nogoodsheepstealing-greatgrandma]

TG on Criston Cole: "He's not the step dad he's the Dad Who Stepped Up! 😍"

Criston Cole in F&B: Literally Humbert Humbert (or, at best, Woody Allen).

Afterward, he gave the seven-year-old Princess Rhaenyra the victor’s laurel and begged for her favor to wear in the joust.

“Ser Criston protects the princess from her enemies, but who protects the princess from Ser Criston?” *

*said at a point when Rhaenyra is the same age as Dolores Haze btw.

Among the changes to the character's ages in HOTD, it's ageing up Rhaenyra when she first meets Criston Cole that grosses me out the most. And to add insult to injury, they don't even get an older actor to play an older Criston Cole after the time jump - Emma D'arcy is actually older than Fabian Frankel.

And to those who say sympathetic jilted lover Criston Cole is more interesting... well we've heard that story before. With Jorah Mormont's depiction in GOT, for starters. And everywhere else in our culture, men like Criston Cole are afforded sympathy and fascination (it's honestly a relief that most audiences outside of tumblr thankfully hate Show Criston - pls leave the actor alone though), while their victims are depicted as seductive temptress 'nymphets'.

Look no further than JK Rowling's favourite 'tragic romance'.

(sure jk, trans women are the problem, but humbert humbert isn't?)

Book covers and film adaptations of Lolita love to age up and sexualise Dolores and completely miss the point, but Vladimir Nabokov named actress Catherine Demongeot as the most book-accurate casting. Who looks very disturbing up against the 1997 film's casting for Humbert Humbert:

She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock.

And wouldn't you know it, Daemon returns from the Stepstones when Rhaenyra (15) is around the same age that Dolores was, when Clare Quilty convinced her to run away with him.

And when Criston proposes to Rhaenyra ahead of her upcoming marriage to Laenor, she is again the same age as Dolores (17) when Humbert tries to get her to leave her husband for him.

Obviously Rhaenyra's story is by no means directly comparable to the horrific abuse suffered by Dolores Haze, and besides we don't know precisely what happened between Rhaenyra and Criston*. But Rhaenyra was also much much younger (7) when Criston came into a position to start grooming her, and at the end of the day she was still only a 12-year-old child when rumours of a sexual relationship began. The parallels are there, and CSA is a common issue throughout GRRM's work.

It certainly wouldn't be the first time GRRM has made a reference to Lolita in ASOIAF:

You see, she had absolutely nowhere else to go.

Littlefinger and Lord Petyr looked so very much alike. She would have fled them both, perhaps, but there was nowhere for her to go.

On Septon Eustace and Mushroom

*I do find it interesting to note that of the two accounts of Rhaenyra and Criston's 'split' (by two people who weren't in the room), it is Septon Eustace's account that puts Rhaenyra in a more favourable light. Mushroom tells the more pornographic account that casts Rhaenyra as the one trying to seduce Criston. Meanwhile Septon Eustace insists that Rhaenyra was the one to refuse Criston - including arguing that if his vows as a Kingsguard mean so little to him, then why should she trust he'd honour any marriage vows?

As I often argue, interpreting F&B is far more complicated than insisting one account always tells the truth, one account always tells propaganda etc. Neither account obviously views the relationship through the lens that Rhaenyra was only 7 when they met, neither of them care to raise concerns of grooming and CSA . This is still the same world after all that thought it was perfectly acceptable for a 12-year-old Laena to marry Viserys, or for a 12-year-old Sansa to marry Tyrion. This is the world that spread rumours of Rhaenyra's lost virginity when she had barely begun puberty.

Mushroom is clearly pro-Rhaenyra, and clearly fond of her (he wants us to know for instance how good it was to hear her laugh, his account expresses the most how broken she was after Luke's death) - but he's writing his account years after her death, and most likely after departing Aegon III's court for White Harbour. His priority, as a dwarf and entertainer, is to write was sells, and salacious tales sell. Just look at the pornographic tales the slavers spread of Daenerys, or how Shae depicts Sansa as a seducer withholding sex to convince her husband to commit regicide, or the play Arya performs in that bawdily depicts Tyrion raping Sansa for the masses. Mushroom at least wasn't the one to actually come up with the Brothel Queens story** - Archmaester Gyldayn credits Aegon II with making that story up - but any loyalty Mushroom had to a long-dead woman wasn't enough to stop him including a popular story. Mushroom's gotta eat.

**to those who still insist the story is true (despite Gyldayne attributing the rumour to Aegon II), do you honestly think if the Queen and Queen Mother had actually been gang-raped there wouldn't be multiple sources verifying it and expressing outrage?

Septon Eustace meanwhile is a misogynist who hated Rhaenyra and wished to justify his allegiance to the Greens. Which is why he'll make up ridiculous stories about Rhaenyra cutting herself on the throne while wearing armour, or Sunfyre eating her in 6 bites and leaving behind one leg for the Stranger, or how Rhaenyra got fat and ugly after giving birth to 5 children. Which is why he'll have Aegon II say "what sort of brother steals his sister's birthright?" - a statement that doesn't match with the rest of his documented words and actions:

Word of Rhaenyra’s coronation reached the Red Keep the next day, to the great displeasure of Aegon II. “My half-sister and my uncle are guilty of high treason,” the young king declared. “I want them attainted, I want them arrested, and I want them dead.”*** Cooler heads on the green council wished to parley. “The princess must be made to see that her cause is hopeless,” Grand Maester Orwyle said. “Brother should not war against sister. Send me to her, that we may talk and reach an amicable accord.” Aegon would not hear of it. Septon Eustace tells us that His Grace accused the Grand Maester of disloyalty and spoke of having him thrown into a black cell “with your black friends.”

***spoken in response to Rhaenyra publicly offering him a pardon

So Eustace has a tendency to demonise and whitewash - which is what makes it interesting when he passes on the opportunity. For example, why would he refute the rumours that Rhaenyra's children are bastards? Surely that claim would have supported his case against her? Why does he give quite a positive, even glowing, account of Jacaerys? Probably because he approved of and genuinely had no issue with Jacaerys, other than that he didn't believe the throne could pass through the female line anyway. True or not, he didn't need to claim Jace as a bastard, and Jace's actions didn't fit any cultural stereotypes. Because it seems there are certain lines Septon Eustace won't cross.

So Septon Eustace has some commitment to telling the truth (some truths anyway). Which is why his own account of Aegon II often contradicts itself, as shown above.

So back to his account of Rhaenyra and Criston. Why not cast Rhaenyra a wanton seductress, trying to tempt Criston Cole away from his Kingsguard vows? Why depict Criston, a fellow Green, as an oathbreaker? Why tell us that Rhaenyra did the right thing, turning Criston down and even expressing disgust that he would abandon his vows? Because for all Septon Eustace dislikes Rhaenyra, casting her as a wanton seductress would be crossing a line. He doesn't need it to be against female succession - her great sin is being a woman who doesn't gracefully abdicate in favour of her brother, and that's enough.

And because his account is probably closer to what happened. While he wasn't in the room, no more than Mushroom was, he was in a position to hear about it from Criston. As a fellow Green, and above all as a Septon. Someone who Criston might confess to. And it is Septon Eustace's account that tells us Criston Cole was the one to slit Lord Beesbury's throat. While he may try (sometimes anyway) to sanitise Aegon II, he makes no such effort with Criston Cole. If you wanted to legitimise your support for the Greens but were unable deny their crimes, it makes sense to allow someone to be the villain.

And supposing Criston did confess, he probably would have displayed the same delusional self-pity and self-justification as Humbert Humbert. And Septon Eustace, just like everyone else in Westeros, certainly wouldn't have considered Rhaenyra a possible victim of grooming and CSA.

Just look at Catherine Howard as a historical example. When she was 13 she was molested by her music tutor, Henry Mannox:

“At the flattering and fair persuasions of Mannox, being but a young girl, I suffered him at sundry times to handle and touch the secret parts of my body, which neither became me with honesty to permit nor him to require.”

This 'affair' was used as evidence against her in her trial for adultery and subsequent execution.

The Princess and her White Knight

Again, we don't know what precisely happened between Rhaenyra and Criston. We don't know if their relationship is comparable to Catherine Howard and Henry Mannox, or if it escalated anywhere close to the horrors of Dolores Haze and Humbert Humbert. Or if anything actually happened at all, or maybe at least not till Rhaenyra was older. Maybe their relationship is more comparable to Soon-Yi Previn and Woody Allen, who had been her stepfather since she was 10.

We have snatches of the truth from Eustace and Mushroom, we have what we can determine of their access to the truth and their motives for telling their accounts the way they do. We have Rhaenyra's young age, Criston's constant access to her, the timing of the rumours, her later relationships with older men, the violent hatred Criston has towards her after she rejects him. We have the fact that CSA is a common reoccurrence in GRRM's work - Daenerys and Jorah, Sansa and Littlefinger, Jeyne and Ramsay, Tyrion and Tywin, Aeron and Euron. We have the salacious stories that are already spreading of victims like Daenerys and Sansa, and we can speculate how future maesters and septons and fools might write about them, the way they write about Rhaenyra.

Whatever happened, my understanding is that Rhaenyra was a child in a court that her stepmother was actively making a hostile environment for her. Who had to deal with the beginnings of puberty in this environment, where adults were already speculating on her sexuality, on top of all the other scrutiny she would face as heir. Yes she had a father who doted on her, but when it came to Alicent he always refused to take sides, he always tried to placate and please and keep the peace. Yes he was steadfast in his decision to keep Rhaenyra his heir, but he did nothing to reprimand Alicent, he allowed this hostile environment to flourish, leaving his barely pubescent daughter to deal with it on her own. Alicent even publicly quips about Rhaenyra's relationship with Criston Cole, and she gets away with it.

Daemon does not return from the Stepstones till after the 5th anniversary tournament Viserys throws for Alicent, when Rhaenyra is 14/15. Before then, Rhaenyra's main confidant, probably her only confident on the subject of Alicent, was her sworn shield and constant shadow Criston Cole. Whatever happened between them, she was young and emotionally vulnerable. And lonely. Yes she had a party of supporters at court - but what is that to a child? She needed a parent to confide in, and when it came to Alicent her own father could not be that parent.

We know Rhaenyra was a precocious child, 'bright and bold' and proud. But we also know that beneath that she was anxious - she was known to compulsively fidget with the rings on her fingers out of anxiety. What kid in her situation wouldn't be anxious? Just when did this compulsive habit begin? Rhaenyra may not have been in anywhere near as vulnerable a situation as Dany, but she was still a vulnerable kid. And so Criston would have been important to her.

He wants me, she realized. He loves me as he loved her, not as a knight loves his queen but as a man loves a woman. She tried to imagine herself in Ser Jorah’s arms, kissing him, pleasuring him, letting him enter her. It was no good. 

It was a long kiss, though how long Dany could not have said. When it ended, Ser Jorah let go of her, and she took a quick step backward. “You … you should not have …”

My great bear, Dany thought. I am his queen, but I will always be his cub as well, and he will always guard me. It made her feel safe, but sad as well. She wished she could love him better than she did.

My bear, my fierce strong bear, what will I do without him?

My bear, she thought, my old sweet bear, who loved me and betrayed me. She had missed him so. She wanted to see his ugly face, to wrap her arms around him and press herself against his chest.

We don't know how much or in what way Criston took advantage of Rhaenyra's dependence on him, or how 'receptive' Rhaenyra might have been (friendly reminder that no matter how 'receptive' she might have been, it's still CSA). Again, it may be that nothing physically happened at all until Rhaenyra was 17 (after 10 years of grooming of course). Whatever happened, we can certainly imagine that Rhaenyra was devastated to lose him, and to Alicent of all people. He had been her confidant and her champion, he had been at her side since she was 7 years old, not long before losing her mother (who was the same age as Criston btw).

My understanding of Criston meanwhile is that he genuinely adored her for those 10 years as her sworn shield. That he was passionately protective of her, fiercely devoted to her, and possessive. Much like Jorah with Dany. Maybe, like Jorah, he tried to kiss her. Maybe much worse happened, and he deluded himself as many abusers do that theirs was a misunderstood romance. Maybe he never touched her at all, but fantasised about it. Maybe he convinced himself that he was a man of honour, maybe he spent those years waiting till Rhaenyra was older, by her side the entire time (cough, grooming).

Whatever happened, he was enraged that 10 years of grooming were ultimately unrewarded. He probably, deludedly, cast her just as cruel and selfish and ungrateful as Humbert Humbert did Dolores Haze.

Despite our tiffs, despite her nastiness, despite all the fuss and faces she made, and the vulgarity, and the danger, and the horrible hopelessness of it all, I still dwelled deep in my elected paradise - a paradise whose skies were the color of hell-flames - but still a paradise.

There is nothing more atrociously cruel than an adored child.

But I was weak, I was not wise, my schoolgirl nymphet had me in thrall. With the human element dwindling, the passion, the tenderness, and the torture only increased; and of this she took advantage.

Don't you love living in a world where multiple think pieces debate whether or not Rhaenyra abused Criston Cole? (Also a world where a book like Lo's Diary gets published...)

If there is any truth to Septon Eustace's account that Criston wanted to elope with her to Essos, then I can imagine that he wanted to possess Rhaenyra entirely for himself (however romantic he may have believed his motives). The 'black fury' that descends on him during the wedding tourney certainly tells us he is violently jealous to see Rhaenyra begin a relationship with Harwin. He probably stewed in fury while Rhaenyra's attention was on Daemon (maybe hypocritically casting him as the villain the way Humbert Humbert does Clare Quilty), celebrated when Daemon was banished, and grew desperately possessive at the thought of losing his exclusive access to her again. Much like Jorah:

“You have been a better friend to me than any I have known, a better brother than Viserys ever was. You are the first of my Queensguard, the commander of my army, my most valued counselor, my good right hand. I honor and respect and cherish you—but I do not desire you, Jorah Mormont, and I am weary of your trying to push every other man in the world away from me, so I must needs rely on you and you alone. It will not serve, and it will not make me love you any better.”

I can't believe I'm giving Jorah Mormont credit here, but at least he doesn't respond to rejection with violent hatred of Dany. Or at least, he hasn't yet.

Now Rhaenyra's relationship with Daemon is another matter, and will require another essay. In sum, there is a broad spectrum between 'pedophile' and 'healthy relationship', and when I say Daemon's relationship with Rhaenyra is healthier than her relationship with Criston I have to admit the bar is very low indeed. Though I do take into consideration GRRM's description of Daemon as a grey character, 'equal parts light and dark'. Anyone is at liberty to declare death of the author and interpret Daemon as they see fit, but authorial intent (however fallible you may consider it) is not irrelevant. That authorial intent is the foundation upon which the characters, relationships, events, themes etc is built.

Ultimately, Daemon was not in Rhaenyra's life between the ages of 8 and 15 - he was in a relationship with an adult Mysaria, and then he was off to the Stepstones until Viserys and Alicent's 5th anniversary tourney. This isn't to endorse whatever may have happened in the 6 months Daemon was in King's Landing before his banishment - however you interpret his actions and motives. But simply to say that when it comes to grooming and abusing pre-pubescent to early-pubescent girls (oh this has been a disturbing essay to write) - Criston wins the "Creepy Even By Child Brideros Standards" Award.

So... is Criston the Step-Dad Who Stepped Up? Sure, if your Step-Dad is Humbert Humbert or Woody Allen.

[leupagus]

I should retitle this series "old men wanting to go take a nap but they gotta help their queens to take over the world."

From this thing that I'm still writing and in fact has taken over my life

Barristan had seen a great many battles in his day, horrible things that bore no resemblance to the tales of the nursery or the songs of the tavern. He'd attended tourneys, too, so many that they blurred together (save for Harrenhal — that would always burn). And as the Lord Commander of the Queensguard here in Essos, he had observed far too many of the fighting pits.

But never before had he heard this chaotic ocean of sound. "Is it always this noisy?" Queen Daenerys shouted, over the approving roar of the crowds.

"No," Tyrion replied cheerfully, "but I'm working on that."

They were in the stands at the Arena, watching the procession of the teams that would play for the city's amusement today. A dozen banners snapped and fluttered in the wind, and the riders from every team did their utmost to encourage the cheers of their followers. In Meereen as in Westeros, the great and mighty cheered as lustily as the smallfolk, and the result was a noise that seemed to swallow up the whole of the city.

Over the past year, the game of soroh-fre had become the main event of the city, their riders' popularity supplanting even that of the pit fighters — and indeed, many of the riders were themselves former denizens of the Pits, their swords and spears replaced with the elongated mallet used to strike the ball from one end of the arena to the other. True, sometimes those mallets were used on their opponents instead, but from what Barristan had read in the city's Papers of the Day, deaths were down to just one every few games. A far cry from the dozens of dead at the end of each pit fight. By midday there were still only a handful of broken limbs.

"Didn't you tell me once that all men share a taste for blood?" said Hizdahr zo Loraq to the queen at some point, shaking his head as a rider's horse was gently lead out of the arena following its rider's injury — a concussion, it seemed. The crowd cheered all the more lustily for him, and he lifted his fist in salute as he staggered out.

The queen smiled. "True," she said, "but we are not all men." Beside her, Missandei laughed. "The Dothraki version is even tamer than this — anyone who injures his brother-rider, even by mistake, during a game of Soroh-Fe is stricken from the games for a year and a day. It's intended to perfect a rider's balance while on horseback; in fact, they play it while standing on the saddle."

"Good gods," Tyrion muttered.

Barristan had no love in his heart for any Lannister, save perhaps little Myrcella and Tommen, who had laughed and grabbed at his white cloak as he'd passed them by, their wide blue eyes as bright as blameless as little Viserys's and Aegon's and Rhaenys's had once been. He'd held special hatred for Lord Tywin, of course; the architect of so many misfortunes suffered by the Targaryens over the years, after spending his youth as a bosom friend to King Aerys and Steffon Baratheon. The three of them had been inseparable for a time — yet how had Tywin repaid him? With a traitor son who slit his own king's throat, no doubt on the orders of his father. And then Jaime's betrayal of his Kingsguard oath had been rewarded, by Robert's marriage to Cersei, who'd betrayed the new king in her turn. Tyrion had given no specific offense in his years at the Red Keep, but Barristan had watched him closely all the same, sure of some treachery festering behind that great brow and sardonic smile. The Lannisters were a family of shadowcats, not lions.

He had watched Tyrion still more closely here in Meereenl but Tyrion had shown himself capable as well as cunning, with an earnestness that Barristan had never seen in him during their shared time at the Red Keep. If Tyrion was another spy like Jorah, Barristan could find little evidence of it; certainly less than that smooth round bastard Varys. Barristan still did not trust Tyrion, but he could admit this much at least: the dwarf knew how to put on a good show.

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Tender Tragedy

Pairing: Arthur Dayne x Targaryen!Reader

Warnings: death

Words:2601

Day winding down to night, Dany took her intimate party on to her personal balcony where an iron pit sat at the center. Surrounding her great pyramid were small specks of orange light. Each one belonged to a family getting ready for slumber. Not Daenerys and her court. Their work tend to bleed into the late hours of the night. There was much work to be done in Meereen.

“Your grace.” Ser Barristan Selmy, a newly added member, holds out a jewel studded goblet to his queen.

Dany eyes the extravagance of the cup as she takes it graciously from the old knight’s hand. Growing up, such decadence was scarce for the once crown prince and princess. Viserys often complained that had Robert not started his rebellion, they would still have the Targaryen wealth that was owed to them.

Alas, Viserys’ own vanity was to be his doom. Now only Dany basked in such exquisite items. 

Taking a sip of the sweet wine she had been given, Daenerys can’t resist thinking on her other siblings; those long dead. She’d had Rhaegar, her older brother, and an older sister, (y/n). 

Rhaegar, the whole of the rebellion being his fault, of course had to die in order to restore order in the seven kingdoms along with the death of Aerys. That was a certainty that Dany had slowly come to acknowledge. She didn’t want to think that any fault lay on her family, but there were so many facts she couldn’t ignore. Targaryens were to blame for everything.

One thing she still couldn’t wrap her head around was why her eldest sister had to die as well. No one explained to Dany the ultimate fate of (y/n). Those like Jorah and Selmy who knew kept her in the dark. 

Turning back to Selmy, she watches as he seats himself in front of the fire that gently warmed his aging joints. Jorah was next to him, speaking quietly with Grey Worm who preferred to stand at attention in case his blade was needed. 

For a moment, Dany imagines how the guiding hand of a gentle, older sister might have changed her life instead of growing up with Viserys’ cruel tendencies. She grieves for what could have been. 

“What happened to (y/n)?”

Her inquiry has Grey Worm and Jorah ceasing their conversation all together. Even the introspective gaze that Missandei had while listening to them had evaporated.

Selmy sadly stares at his hands. He always became melancholic when the subject of (y/n) was brought up. “I don’t think right now’s the time for that. . .”

“Then when will be? No one talks about her. Why am I not to know about her, my only sister?” Her tone of authority has them averting their gaze from her drilling eyes. Must she be stuck with the knowledge that her elder brother Rhaegar died because of the accusation of rape and knowing Viserys was a monster in his own right much like their father? Were there truly no good members of House Targaryen that were worthy of life?

Pondering for a second, Selmy heaves out a weary sigh. “It is not a happy story. Many do not want to recall what happened to your sister because she was much loved and her death devastated every corner of the Seven Kingdoms. As if enough blood hadn’t been shed already.”

“It was utterly pointless.” Jorah murmurs, his own eyes glossing over. Dany had pestered him before about (y/n), any bit of information, but Jorah stood his ground and never uttered a peep about the elder Targaryen daughter. 

Quietly, Daenerys trails over to them and sits on the other side of Selmy. “What was she like? I just want to get an idea of who she is.”

That was an easier question to answer.

Light came back into Selmy’s eyes and the corners of his mouth twitch upward into a smile. “She was goodness incarnate, Your Grace. Much like yourself. And beautiful. (y/n) did much to help those suffering in the slums of King’s Landing. Was always trying to make things better and was an excellent problem solver. She was a burst of life in the Red Keep. Everyone thrived in her presence.”

So why was she too a casualty of the rebellion. Dany would tread lightly to that question. “Did she ever marry? She was very close to Rhaegar in age, right?” She’d be at the perfect age where young ladies were often pawned off to other influential families. Even Daenerys had been married to Khal Drogo when she was just ten and three.

Jorah chuckles at that. “Oh many tried. She was considered the perfect match. Constantly being hounded by old and young lords alike. Marrying her off though had never been Aerys’ top priority when his mind started to rot.”

“He never thought of marrying (y/n) to Rhaegar?” It was Valyrian tradition to wed one sibling to the other. Many generations of the Targaryens had kept the practice alive despite the negative views the Sept had toward it. 

“It had been discussed.” Selmy admits. “Maybe if he had done that to begin with, we could have avoided war. But. . . (y/n) had already pledged her love to someone else.”

**

Ser Arthur carefully scans his surroundings in the hallway to make sure no one saw or followed him to the destined rendezvous point. When he seemed to be completely by himself, he closed the door and turned to face you. Patiently awaiting him on the foot of the bed with a wide grin.

He’d mentioned many times how he’d never, in a million years, get used to the sight of your smile  and the way it illuminated your lavender eyes. Beacons that entangle Arthur in a trap he had no plan to escape from.

You stand and dissolve the small distance between you in a blink of an eye. Your hands, soft and smelling of the sweetness of spring, grab his cheeks to pull him down to your starving lips.

Arthur was all too ready to comply.

**

“She was in love with the Sword of the Morning, Ser Arthur Dayne.” He remembers Ser Arthur with the utmost fondness, but their relationship had been doomed from the very start. Selmy had been there when Arthur was sworn into the Kingsguard. Even by then the boy was completely enraptured by Princess (y/n). 

Dany, listening intently, originally this of this as a perfect story from some old fairytale . A princess and her lover knight, a classic. But (y/n)’s story did not end happily ever after.

Missandei holds Dany’s hand. She too had a sense of where this kind of story was going. 

“So great was their affections for one another, it was quite obvious to everyone around them. During tourneys, Arthur would ask for her favor. The dances before the war, they would dance with each other. When war finally broke out, we found (y/n)’s chambers empty. Arthur, before joining Rhaegar’s forces, spirited the princess out of the Keep.”

*

You jolt to a stop as Arthur held out an arm to stop you from advancing. You’d been crawling along the shadows in the corridors of the Keep as Arthur led you hall after hall to evade any guards. Like hell he’d leave you behind. What he was doing was punishable by death but he didn’t care. 

Thinking the coast had been clear, you’d almost gone around the corner but Arthur’s better trained ears heard someone coming. 

He holds you close to his side so that your cheek was pressed against his armor and you were partially hidden under his cloak. You didn’t breathe for fear of discovery.

Whoever it was walked right past you, none the wiser. Both of you release your breath simultaneously. Even if someone had caught you, Arthur wouldn’t hesitate to kill them; even if it was his own brothers from the guard. They no longer mattered anymore.

A single touch from Arthur had you jumping and he chuckling. He’d only reached out for your hand. He brings it up to his lips and gives your knuckles the most gentle of kisses.

Finally you smile as he coaxes you along.

**

At this point, Selmy pauses to quench his parched mouth and ignite the courage required to continue with the story. He wished it ended there, (y/n) and Arthur escaping and happily living out the rest of their days somewhere in Essos.

Dany as well as the others drink from their cups.

“Of course this caused such a rage in Aerys. (Y/n) tended to have stubborn strike, but for the most part she had been obedient to Aerys. It was the quite the blow to him that his treasured daughter had escaped with one of his personal guards.”

Aerys had sent whatever manpower he could spare to look for (y/n) and Arthur.

“They remained elusive for several months. But one day while Arthur was gone to fight in a battle, Rhaegar’s defenseless camp had been attacked. They dragged (y/n) out by force.”

**

You’re pretty sure your scream pierced a few of your assailants’ ear drums.

Someone grabbed a fistful of your silver hair and nearly rips your skull from your neck. Even though it caused you unspeakable pain, you fight and claw at any inch off vulnerable skin you could dig your nails into.

They curse at you, crown Targaryen princess, and treat you with outstanding abuse you had never experienced before.

You could taste the rusty burst of blood trickling out from your split lip. Feel the boning of your corset imprint itself into your torso as they beat you into unconscious submission. These could not possibly be natives to the Crownlands. Possibly someone Aerys had paid off. No person, knowing who you are, would ever treat you in such a manner. Whether you were the Mad King’s daughter or not.

Fight had fled from you as they hoist you onto the back of an awaiting horse. They keep their eyes open to scan the area once more before leaving. There was no sign of the Sword of the Morning.

Silent tears spring into your vision as you watch Rhaegar’s plundered camp consumed by flames.

Your captors waste no time and heed their mounts to move faster.

“(Y/N)!!!”

Your eyelids try to flutter open at the sound of Arthur’s voice stretching over miles. It was impossible.

Hooves cease to beat and quietly stop at the approaching figure. Men in armor dismount and brandish their swords. Arthur was greatly outnumbered.

His battle had been far away from the camp yet there was Arthur sizing up his chances as he hops off of his own war horse.

“Yield, Ser Dayne.” One called out to him. “The king wants you alive.”

Eyes that could have passed off for Targaryen flick over to you and a knife that had suddenly appeared tauntingly against your throat. You stay absolutely still unless the blades gives you its sharp kiss. The only way you could keep your fear at bay was to keep your gaze focused on Arthur’s eyes. Wisteria filled pools calm your racing heart although you knew there was still much for you to fear.

Arthur dropped the great sword of his house, Dawn, in front of his feet in surrender.

Countless knights descend upon him and bind his limbs in chains. It would not do to have a knight of Arthur’s caliber have any access to his limbs.

He’d be compliant as long as they kept the two of you together.

**

“Couldn’t Ser Arthur have taken them on? I’ve constantly heard of his mastery with the sword and how he was like no other.” To Dany, the infamous Sword of the Morning gave up quite easily.

Every line on Selmy’s face seems to deepen. “Alas, Arthur was still but a human. He knew when to pick his battles. This was not one he could’ve ever won by himself.”

He knew he must tie off the story of (y/n) Targaryen and Ser Arthur Dayne. Anyone could imagine the torture Aerys put his daughter and Arthur through before their actual death. They accepted their fate with their hand’s holding the other’s.

(Y/n) didn’t she a tear when she glared at her father as he read out their punishment. She kept her head held high as did Arthur. That’s how Selmy wanted to remember them. Not their grotesque corpses that had been left.

From the older man’s reaction, Daenerys knew she’d learned enough as her own tears spill over her bottom lashes.

Next to her, Missandei hastily wipes a stray tear from the corner of her eye. Her hand was trembling in Dany’s as they support one another.

From a hidden pocket, Selmy sighs and pulls out a leather drawstring pouch. “After. . . After they had died, Aerys wanted their remains to be tossed like common trash. Instead we properly buried them. However. . . Before all remnants of her life was scrubbed from the world, I saved this one piece of her.”

Once placed in her hands, Dany tentatively pulls open the pouch and pulls out a silver locket. Engraved into its metal were beautiful flowers. Each petal captured with intricate details. In the center was tucked a large pink pearl.

Dany opens it, her eyes instantly round and glisten. “I-Is this. . .” Her gaze falls back onto the contents of the locket. Inside was a perfectly curled lock of silver hair. Targaryen hair.

“Before she died, Aerys had her head shaved for further humiliation.” Selmy whispers.

Softly Dany pets the soft piece of hair. The only part of her sister she’ll ever know.

Shutting the locket with a gentle hand, Daenerys holds it close to her heart.

**

The strong beating of Arthur’s heart had nearly lulled you to sleep. His arm slung around you, daring anyone to put you in separate cells.

They granted you this one last request.

Aerys wouldn’t let you and Arthur live. Both of you accepted that when you were captured. The Mad King didn’t take prisoners of war.

At least you had one last night with him. To be held in his arms and gifted kisses upon the crown of your head. This was all you had ever asked for.

The Few months you’d spent with him evading Aerys had been the happiest. If this was the price you had to pay for it then so be it. You’d finally experienced true happiness

“(Y/n)?”

“Hmm?”

You shift in his hold to look up at his gorgeous face. The man was a work of art and possessed the looks of old gods of the sun. Despite the sultry pout of his full lips, Arthur had always been dedicated to you; no other woman had ever held such sway over him in his entire life. Sweet as it was he’d even tried his hand at poetry to try and explain how much he truly loved you. It was awful but to you it was your dearest possession.

All over again, you fall in love with him from the way he gazed down at you with naked love.

“Being with you has completed my life. No matter how short a time we had. I’d do it all over again knowing this would be the price.”

You blink back tears but it’s useless. His image is blurry. “M-Me too. Knowing that you love me and you’re here…”

Arthur caressed the side of your face and pressed his forehead to your’s.

Whatever what happened when the sun rose, you’d have no regrets.

[stormcloudrising]

If JD won't hook up then who do you think is the younger and comely lover Dany was dreaming about? There's also the mystery man who was cold a ice. Two quotes hinting at a mysterious man for Dany seems like too much of a coincidence.

Hi Nonny,

Thanks for the ask.

To answer the first part of your question, let’s look at the passage you referenced.

What Dany wanted she could not begin to say, but Jorah's kiss had woken something in her, something that had been sleeping since Khal Drogo died. Lying abed in her narrow bunk, she found herself wondering how it would be to have a man squeezed in beside her in place of her handmaid, and the thought was more exciting than it should have been. Sometimes she would close her eyes and dream of him, but it was never Jorah Mormont she dreamed of; her lover was always younger and more comely, though his face remained a shifting shadow. —A Storm of Swords - Daenerys II

The passage is about wish fulfillment on Dany’s part. She’s lonely and wants someone to love and lay beside her at night. She’s looking for someone to take the place of Khal Drogo. But she’s a young girl and she doesn’t want someone like Jorah who’s old enough to be her father. Young girls dream of men closer to their age who are comely and daring and adventurous. She very liked Sansa in this instance.

Dany’s wish fulfillment is not about any specific person as is suggested by the shifting shadow, but more her thoughts on the ideal partner. The passage is also a set up for the introduction of Daario as a couple of chapters later, the shadow comes into focus with his arrival on the scene.

Daario is as unlike Jorah, and as similar to Khal Drogo as it’s possible to be without him actually being Drogo. Young and comely? ✅ a warrior and leader of men? ✅ Dark and dangerous? ✅ He even wields an arakh like Drogo.

Daario personifies the type of man that interests Dany. So, while Dany may not have literally dreamt of him, he’s the type she was dreaming of. Hope that makes sense.

As for the man with blue lips, many fans in the fandom are of the opinion that it’s Jon and I’m suspecting that you are of this opinion as well, but I disagree with that interpretation.

The basis for this theory is Bran’s first weirwood vision when he saw Jon’s dead body in the ice cells at Castle Black.

Finally he looked north. He saw the Wall shining like blue crystal, and his bastard brother Jon sleeping alone in a cold bed, his skin growing pale and hard as the memory of all warmth fled from him. And he looked past the Wall, past endless forests cloaked in snow, past the frozen shore and the great blue-white rivers of ice and the dead plains where nothing grew or lived. North and north and north he looked, to the curtain of light at the end of the world, and then beyond that curtain. He looked deep into the heart of winter, and then he cried out, afraid, and the heat of his tears burned on his cheeks.

—A Game of Thrones, Bran III

Except for Jon’s body being cold and frozen, the rest of the scene doesn’t match up. Of course, blue is mentioned in the wall, and a body will start to turn blue when exposed to extreme cold as cyanosis or livor mortis sets in because of lack of oxygen. However, the bruised blue lips doesn’t match up.

The man with bruise blue lips and a member as cold as ice Euron, which is interesting because while Daario and Drogo were similar types of men, the way Daario and Euron are described, they could almost be the same person. It’s why some in the fandom are in favor of this theory.

I don’t think they are the same person because the timing doesn’t match up, and it would mean that Euron was able to be in two places at once; and nothing in the story thus far has shown that to be possible. So, unless George comes out with a magical reason that would explain how Euron could fly across the seas faster than a speeding bullet, they are two separate individuals. Oh, and there’s also the fact that Daario’s lips are not blue.

My thinking is that Daario is in the story to prepare Dany for Euron. If she loses Daario, and that possibility is on the table, she will be more susceptible to Euron when he starts trying to worm his way into her feelings. He’s the type of guy she goes for, and he will heavily remind her of Daario. Also, her dream of the man with the blue lips suggests that Euron may already have begun his seduction of her.

George actually begins the set up to it being Euron a few chapters earlier when Xaro Xhoan Daxos pays Dany a visit, and then he reveals the truth in TWOW.

"Not all your enemies are in the Yellow City. Beware men with cold hearts and blue lips. You had not been gone from Qarth a fortnight when Pyat Pree set out with three of his fellow warlocks, to seek for you in Pentos."

Dany was more amused than afraid. "It is good I turned aside, then. Pentos is half a world from Meereen."

—A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys III

After Xaro leaves, Barristan as the Lord Commander of her Queens Guard shows his concern at the potential threat.

Ser Barristan cleared his throat and said, "This warlock that the merchant spoke of …"

"Pyat Pree." She tried to recall his face, but all she could see were his lips. The wine of the warlocks had turned them blue. Shade-of-the-evening, it was called. "If a warlock's spell could kill me, I would be dead by now. I left their palace all in ashes." Drogon saved me when they would have drained my life from me. Drogon burned them all.

"As you say, Your Grace. Still. I will be watchful."

—A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys III

Dany’s choice of words is interesting because Pyat Pree is not the warlock Barristan needs to worry about. In A Feast for Crows, we get this interesting conversation between Victorion and Euron, when the latter sends the former to Meereen to bring back Dany for him to wed. Keep in mind that AFFC and ADWD is one book split into two, and so events in them are taking place around the same time.

Euron turned to face him, his bruised blue lips curled in a half smile. "Perhaps we can fly. All of us. How will we ever know unless we leap from some tall tower?" The wind came gusting through the window and stirred his sable cloak. There was something obscene and disturbing about his nakedness. "No man ever truly knows what he can do unless he dares to leap."

______

The captain took the cup Euron had not offered, sniffed at its contents suspiciously. Seen up close, it looked more blue than black. It was thick and oily, with a smell like rotted flesh. He tried a small swallow, and spit it out at once. "Foul stuff. Do you mean to poison me?"

"I mean to open your eyes." Euron drank deep from his own cup, and smiled. "Shade-of-the-evening, the wine of the warlocks. I came upon a cask of it when I captured a certain galleas out of Qarth, along with some cloves and nutmeg, forty bolts of green silk, and four warlocks who told a curious tale. One presumed to threaten me, so I killed him and fed him to the other three. They refused to eat of their friend's flesh at first, but when they grew hungry enough they had a change of heart. Men are meat."

—A Feast for Crows - The Reaver

Xaro tells Dany that two weeks after she destroyed the House of the Undying, and left Qarth, Pyat Pree and his warlock brethren sail to Pentos in search of her to exact vengeance.

And Euron later tells Victorian about capturing a gallaes out of Qarth with 4 warlocks and a quantity of shade-of-the-evening. What are the odds that he and Xaro are talking about two different sets of warlocks? Absolutely nil, which is confirmed in the preview chapter for TWOW, which George read at a convention. It was taped by fans and later transcribed by Poor Quentyn.

“Drink with me. Your king commands it.”

Euron grabbed a handful of the priest’s tangled black hair, pulled his head back, and lifted the wine cup to his lips. But what flowed into his mouth was not wine. It was thick and viscous, with a taste that seemed to change with every swallow.

Now bitter, now sour, now sweet. When Aeron tried to spit it out, his brother tightened his grip and forced more down his throat. “That’s it, priest. Gulp it down. The wine of the warlocks, sweeter than your seawater, with more truth in it than all the gods of earth.”

“I curse you,” Aeron said, when the cup was empty. Liquor dripped from down his chin into his long, black beard.

“If I had the tongue of every man who cursed me, I could make a cloak of them.”

Aeron hawked and spat. The spittle struck his brother’s cheek and hung there, blue--black, glistening. Euron flicked it off his face with a forefinger, then licked the finger clean. “Your god will come for you tonight. Some god, at least.”

—The Forsaken - The Winds of Winter Preview Chapter

There is a suggestion in another Dany chapter that while in exile, Qarth might have been Euron’s base of operation when he was not out reaving.

Dany had laughed when he told her. "Was it not you who told me warlocks were no more than old soldiers, vainly boasting of forgotten deeds and lost prowess?"

Xaro looked troubled. "And so it was, then. But now? I am less certain. It is said that the glass candles are burning in the house of Urrathon Night-Walker, that have not burned in a hundred years.

—A Clash of Kings - Daenerys V

Many in the fandom, myself included think that Urrathon Night-Walker is Euron. It fits with all the symbolism and him conveniently being in the area at the same time, but there’s also the curious detail revealed in an Asha chapter concerning an ancient Greyjoy ancestor from the Age of Heroes. With his legend and similar sounding name, he seems to have been a Euron prototype.

"Torgon Greyiron was the king's eldest son. But the king was old and Torgon restless, so it happened that when his father died he was raiding along the Mander from his stronghold on Greyshield. His brothers sent no word to him but instead quickly called a kingsmoot, thinking that one of them would be chosen to wear the driftwood crown. But the captains and the kings chose Urragon Goodbrother to rule instead. The first thing the new king did was command that all the sons of the old king be put to death, and so they were. After that men called him Badbrother, though in truth they'd been no kin of his. He ruled for almost two years."

—A Dance with Dragons - The Wayward Bride

So we have Euron, which clues suggests might have been in Qarth around the same time as Dany, and who might just have a glass candle, using shade-of-evening. A drug it is suggested came into his possession when he captured Pyat Pree’s ship that sailed just a couple of weeks after Dany left Qarth.

The same Forsaken preview chapter confirms that it was indeed Pyat Pree’s ship that Euron captured when Aeron sees the captured warlocks on the Silence, Euron’s ship.

Last were two warlocks of the east, with flesh as white as mushrooms, and lips the purplish¬-blue of a bad bruise, all so gaunt and starved that only skin and bones remained. One had lost his legs. The mutes hung him from a rafter. “Pree,” he cried as he swung back and forth. “Pree, Pree.”

—The Forsaken - The Winds of Winter Preview Chapter

While Dany discounted the warning Xaro gave to her about Pyat Pree, it is taking form in her dreams with the man with bruised blue lips, and all evidence point to the warlock in question being Euron.

That night her cooks roasted her a kid with dates and carrots, but Dany could only eat a bite of it. The prospect of wrestling with Meereen once more left her feeling weary. Sleep came hard, even when Daario came back, so drunk that he could hardly stand. Beneath her coverlets she tossed and turned, dreaming that Hizdahr was kissing her … but his lips were blue and bruised, and when he thrust himself inside her, his manhood was cold as ice. She sat up with her hair disheveled and the bedclothes atangle. Her captain slept beside her, yet she was alone. She wanted to shake him, wake him, make him hold her, fuck her, help her forget, but she knew that if she did, he would only smile and yawn and say, "It was just a dream, my queen. Go back to sleep."

—A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys VII

As it is strongly suggested that Euron also has access to a glass candle, it is quite possible that he’s entering Dany’s dreams and seducing her in that manner. It’s strongly implied that he’s doing just that to his brother, only, he is giving him nightmares. However, while Euron might be manipulating Aeron in his dreams, the Damphir is also seeing the truth of some things.

The dreams were even worse the second time. He saw the longships of the Ironborn adrift and burning on a boiling blood¬-red sea. He saw his brother on the Iron Throne again, but Euron was no longer human. He seemed more squid than man, a monster fathered by a kraken of the deep, his face a mass of writhing tentacles. Beside him stood a shadow in woman’s form, long and tall and terrible, her hands alive with pale white fire. Dwarves capered for their amusement, male and female, naked and misshapen, locked in carnal embrace, biting and tearing at each other as Euron and his mate laughed and laughed and laughed...

—The Forsaken - The Winds of Winter Preview Chapter

So, yes, all evidence so far points to it being Euron and not Jon who Dany dreams of. And in a way, with Daario’s similarity to Euron, one can argue that both Dany’s dreams were about the same person…Euron.

[cassowariess]

Thinking about Daenerys Targaryen again and how there's such a fundamental misunderstanding of the character from both the fans and haters of her.

To be clear, I still think the way the TV series ended her arc was sloppily done, and the reason so many people were blindsided by it was because there were several narrative beats that were skipped. Yes, she is ruthless and violent throughout the series, but going from "I have distorted morals yet still think I'm doing the right thing" to 'I'm going to burn innocent civilians that never did me any harm and I have had zero contact with up until this point" is still a leap. A leap that could have been avoided if we'd had more scenes with her unravelling in private and less barely visible battle scenes. But, I digress. This isn't wholly about the TV series ending. It's about the character and how I disagree with people who are determined to paint her as an angelic saviour or evil incarnate. Both of which do the character a massive disservice.

What Dany is, is a severely damaged trauma victim who comes into possession of the in world version of nukes. In the books, she is 13 years old when she is sold to Khal Drogo. In both the books and the TV series, she is raped by him. I don't care how people romanticise it. She is. The fact that she falls in love with her captor is a completely understandable trauma response from a girl who has been abused by her brother up until that point. Khal Drogo is a monster, but he's a monster that protects Dany from Viserys and gives her some semblence of power for the first time in her life. You could even say he is her first "dragon." A sign of things to come.

More behind the cut to spare your dashboard (because it's long)

She's fully on board with Drogo violently pillaging villages to get gold and goods so she can take back the Iron Throne until she realises women are being raped. Something she can have empathy with. This is the first sign of Dany's moral compass. She doesn't want people to suffer the way she did.

At the same time, she doesn't understand the nuance of everything that is happening around her. Yes, she saves the women's lives, but she also expects them to be 100% grateful, even though she is part of the culture that raped and pillaged their homes. I suspect this is because the same thing happened to her with Drogo, so in her damaged mind, she's trying to save Mirri Maz Dur while not understanding why Mirri Maz Dur would be mistrustful of her. In the books it is unclear whether Mirri deliberately kills Drogo, or if this is simply what Dany has percieved. Either way, she thinks Mirri murdered her son deliberately, so she has her killed.

A lot of people point to this as proof she was always evil and her burning down King's Landing was inevitable, but Mirri Maz Dur (to Dany, anyway) did something "wrong" and therefore is, to Dany, an enemy. She had zero contact with the people of King's Landing. It would have made more sense for her to burn The North if she perceived them as her enemies. This is where I feel the TV series failed. It needed to show some plot beats before King's Landing burning, and the best way to do this would have been to show Dany having a mental breakdown in private. Even something as simple as crying and pacing would have worked.

G.R.R. Martin has already laid the groundwork for this in the books. The last time we see Dany in A Dance with Dragons she's literally losing her mind in a field somewhere after she cannot cope with ruling Meereen:

 “I am the blood of the dragon,” she told the grass, aloud. Once, the grass whispered back, until you chained your dragons in the dark. “Drogon killed a little girl. Her name was … her name …” Dany could not recall the child’s name. That made her so sad that she would have cried if all her tears had not been burned away. “I will never have a little girl. I was the Mother of Dragons.” Aye, the grass said, but you turned against your children... ...No. You are the blood of the dragon. The whispering was growing fainter, as if Ser Jorah were falling farther behind. Dragons plant no trees. Remember that. Remember who you are, what you were made to be. Remember your words. “Fire and Blood,” Daenerys told the swaying grass.

TV show wise, in the timeline this would be season 5. Skipping this scene, where she hallucinates and decides she can't deal with the pressure and nuances of ruling, was a big mistake. They could have put this scene, or one like it, anywhere in the narrative leading up to King's Landing and it would have made things SO MUCH clearer.

Trauma is complex, and the idea that a 13 year old kid whose coping mechanism is big lizards that breathe fire would be a stable paragon of virtue doesn't line up.

I know a lot of people either want her to be a saviour queen that overcomes her trauma or an evil fascist who was always bad, but Martin doesn't write that way. If he ever finishes the books (which is probably never lol) I'm sure he'll write her in a way that makes sense. Her arc is a Shakespearian tragedy because she might have been a great ruler, if she hadn't had such a painful and fucked up life.