#khaleesi (lamb mother)

[unholystarcrown]

3: Rise from the Dead.

Now also available on AO3!

This is for @/stychu-stych COTL-Tober.

Thank you for reading.

The early morning grew colder than before, not once did a raven call out to awake the sleeping cult. It was late winter; an ongoing plague had struck and only so many individuals could bear the consequences of humanity. It was only five lost. Surely, that could be taken care of. Helob has more, and so did wandering cultists that prayed to gods no longer.

But what of a lamb, only last of his kind, falls too ill to survive another day of the cold?

What would become of this young thing?

——————————

"Kallamar, you are the only one of this cult who can help him! He's been bedridden for days, cannot even sit up from his bed!"

The yells of the Reverend Mother could be heard from the west side of the cult grounds; her words clear yet heartbroken. Her only son was slipping away from her arms, a fear no mother like her wanted to face. She was scared for her boy, and only an ex-bishop was so cowardice to seek proper answers.

The shaking squid ducked deeper behind his desk, in fear of the cult leader. Had he grown a spine or three, he would have set her straight. This was still his domain, no matter if he turned away his crown or not.

"Forgive me, but with the surprising number of other cultists remain sick, your beloved son must wait!"

Yes, it was selfish of the Reverend Mother to only prioritize her only son over the cult. But he was her only child, her only family. These followers she collected up to millennia mean nothing to her. Not even the bishops she forcefully put to rest mattered.

They were never her family. That lamb is her family.

And yet in the midst of pointless arguing, the child's last breath was only a cold exhale.

——————————

"You are one mad man for you request me, her disciple, to dig out her son's body from the ground. And in winter, of all the things."

Maleficent, an eagle and one of the Reverend Mother's trusted disciples, could only watch in pure disgust of the High Priest putting the young lamb's body in a flowered coffin above a ritual pentagram. She never understood him, especially since he was the past master of the Red Crown.

Narinder, the cult's High Priest, let out a small huff at the elder eagle's complaint as he flipped through the cult's bible. Through his immortality, he worked to the top to gain something as close to a god though he would never admit to care so genuinely for the Reverend Mother.

Yet his cold heart softened when he saw that woman cry out to the world when she felt her son's cold body.

He just had to do something.

"Spare me your complaints. She wishes for her son alive; I will do just that."

Maleficent scoffed, crossing her arms. Was this cat losing his head or was he doing this out of something else? She couldn't tell by his forever scowl.

"Samael will know of this, this will be your fifth time breaking the order of all nature. It'll have your head and where will you be then?"

Narinder could only glance a glare before resuming his research. If his cowardly brother wasn't going to help, then he will. This was an opportunity for trust, something to spit in the Reverend Mother's face if she ever was chained away like he was once centuries ago.

How cruel was he to make this seem payback for betrayal a second time? He wouldn't dare answer that out loud nor in his mind. All followers knew.

But he must focus, or else that body in front of him will rot longer. And oh how he hated the smell of rotten flesh.

The sounds of bones breaking and repositioning, smell of flesh being sewn back together with blood of gods. Nothing but horrid sounds of a revival awakening.

Welcome home once more, little lamb.

[rainhadaenerys]

I saw a Dany anti saying that Dany can’t be a hero because no hero would ever boast about being descended from a king nicknamed the Cruel. And I’m like... do people really don’t understand what context is?

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

"It was her fate, Khaleesi," said Aggo.

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

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

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

Dany is swearing revenge against the people who gangraped and killed Eroeh. She is saying that they will plead for mercy for when she’s done with them. In this context it makes perfect sense to mention Maegor the Cruel, because she wants these men to suffer, she wants her revenge to be cruel. Seriously... what’s not clickling here? There are plenty of heroes who would swear terrible revenge against men like Jhaqo who commited such atrocities as what they did to Eroeh.

[first-of-her-nxme]

the pledge of dragons

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

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

"It was her fate, Khaleesi," said Aggo.

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

"The name . . . can I name anyone? And you'll kill him?"

Jaqen H'ghar inclined his head. "A man has said."

"Anyone?" she repeated. "A man, a woman, a little baby, or Lord Tywin, or the High Septon, or your father?"

"A man's sire is long dead, but did he live, and did you know his name, he would die at your command."

"Swear it," Arya said. "Swear it by the gods."

"By all the gods of sea and air, and even him of fire, I swear it." He placed a hand in the mouth of the weirwood. "By the seven new gods and the old gods beyond count, I swear it." - Arya, A Clash of Kings

[istumpysk]

Which gods and religion did Viserys and Dany follow in books?

They should follow the Faith of the Seven, but Daenerys is noncommittal in choosing a deity to strictly follow. I wonder if the red highlight has something to do with it.

"It was her fate, Khaleesi," said Aggo.

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

+.+

Finally the stair opened. To her right, a set of wide wooden doors had been thrown open. They were fashioned of ebony and weirwood, the black and white grains swirling and twisting in strange interwoven patterns. They were very beautiful, yet somehow frightening. The blood of the dragon must not be afraid. Dany said a quick prayer, begging the Warrior for courage and the Dothraki horse god for strength. She made herself walk forward. - Daenerys IV, ACOK

+.+

Up here in her garden Dany sometimes felt like a god, living atop the highest mountain in the world.

Do all gods feel so lonely? Some must, surely. Missandei had told her of the Lord of Harmony, worshiped by the Peaceful People of Naath; he was the only true god, her little scribe said, the god who always was and always would be, who made the moon and stars and earth, and all the creatures that dwelt upon them. Poor Lord of Harmony. Dany pitied him. It must be terrible to be alone for all time, attended by hordes of butterfly women you could make or unmake at a word. Westeros had seven gods at least, though Viserys had told her that some septons said the seven were only aspects of a single god, seven facets of a single crystal. That was just confusing. The red priests believed in two gods, she had heard, but two who were eternally at war. Dany liked that even less. She would not want to be eternally at war. - Daenerys VI, ASOS

Difficult to not immediately think of another faithless man, who believes himself to be godlike.

[aboveallarescuer]

Daenerys Targaryen's tropes - Upbringing Makes the Hero

"Heroes are made, not born" is a common and unstated theme in a lot of works. Though a good many heroic origins proudly trot out heroes who have been raised in The Spartan Way and can look Death in the eye-sockets without blinking before leaving their Tibetan monastery home, quite a few grew up Farm Boys who never picked up anything sharper than a hoe, though those can be quite a handful.

In fact, heroes with a down to earth upbringing tend to have a unique advantage over the more badass and epic ones: they're more centered. While they won't be saints, they'll have a strong enough moral compass to navigate most moral dilemmas, resist The Dark Side, and even refute Hannibal Lectures that more emotionally fragile heroes struggle with. If they gain super powers, they won't forget "the little people" and turn into a Smug Super with delusions of grandeur. Though they didn't gain the crime-fighting prowess of a lifetime of Charles Atlas training, or the street-savvy of an orphan with a Dark and Troubled Past, they also didn't sacrifice basic skills or their social life.

Daenerys's background

A princess, Dany thought. She had forgotten what that was like. Perhaps she had never really known. (AGOT Daenerys I)

~

After Ser Willem had died, the servants had stolen what little money they had left, and soon after they had been put out of the big house. Dany had cried when the red door closed behind them forever.

They had wandered since then, from Braavos to Myr, from Myr to Tyrosh, and on to Qohor and Volantis and Lys, never staying long in any one place. Her brother would not allow it. The Usurper’s hired knives were close behind them, he insisted, though Dany had never seen one.

At first the magisters and archons and merchant princes were pleased to welcome the last Targaryens to their homes and tables, but as the years passed and the Usurper continued to sit upon the Iron Throne, doors closed and their lives grew meaner. Years past they had been forced to sell their last few treasures, and now even the coin they had gotten from Mother’s crown had gone. In the alleys and wine sinks of Pentos, they called her brother “the beggar king.” Dany did not want to know what they called her. (AGOT Daenerys I)

~

“The Milk Men shun him. Khaleesi, do you see the girl in the felt hat? There, behind the fat priest. She is a—”

“—cutpurse,” finished Dany. She was no pampered lady, blind to such things. She had seen cutpurses aplenty in the streets of the Free Cities, during the years she’d spent with her brother, running from the Usurper’s hired knives. (ACOK Daenerys III)

~

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

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

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

Key examples of Daenerys's mindset and actions as queen that reflect her past experiences

Death followed death. Weak children, wrinkled old women, the sick and the stupid and the heedless, the cruel land claimed them all. Doreah grew gaunt and hollow-eyed, and her soft golden hair turned brittle as straw.

Dany hungered and thirsted with the rest of them. (ACOK Daenerys I)

~

“I was alone for a long time, Jorah. All alone but for my brother. I was such a small scared thing. Viserys should have protected me, but instead he hurt me and scared me worse. He shouldn’t have done that. He wasn’t just my brother, he was my king. Why do the gods make kings and queens, if not to protect the ones who can’t protect themselves?”

“Some kings make themselves. Robert did.”


“He was no true king,” Dany said scornfully. “He did no justice. Justice ... that’s what kings are for.” (ASOS Daenerys III)

~

Dany set great store by Ser Jorah’s counsel, but to leave Meereen untouched was more than she could stomach. She could not forget the children on their posts, the birds tearing at their entrails, their skinny arms pointing up the coast road. “Ser Jorah, you say we have no food left. If I march west, how can I feed my freedmen?”

“You can’t. I am sorry, Khaleesi. They must feed themselves or starve. Many and more will die along the march, yes. That will be hard, but there is no way to save them. We need to put this scorched earth well behind us.”

Dany had left a trail of corpses behind her when she crossed the red waste. It was a sight she never meant to see again. “No,” she said. “I will not march my people off to die.” My children. “There must be some way into this city.” (ASOS Daenerys V)

~

When she looked over one shoulder, there it stood, the afternoon sun blazing off the bronze harpy atop the Great Pyramid. Inside Meereen the slavers would soon be reclining in their fringed tokars to feast on lamb and olives, unborn puppies, honeyed dormice and other such delicacies, whilst outside her children went hungry. A sudden wild anger filled her. I will bring you down, she swore. (ASOS Daenerys V)

~

Her audience chamber was on the level below, an echoing high-ceilinged room with walls of purple marble. It was a chilly place for all its grandeur. There had been a throne there, a fantastic thing of carved and gilded wood in the shape of a savage harpy. She had taken one long look and commanded it be broken up for firewood. “I will not sit in the harpy’s lap,” she told them. Instead she sat upon a simple ebony bench. It served, though she had heard the Meereenese muttering that it did not befit a queen. (ASOS Daenerys VI)

~

Reznak would have summoned another tokar next, but Dany insisted that he call upon a freedman. Thereafter she alternated between the former masters and the former slaves. (ADWD Daenerys I)

~

He was too eloquent for her. Dany had no answer for him, only the raw feeling in her belly. “Slavery is not the same as rain,” she insisted. “I have been rained on and I have been sold. It is not the same. No man wants to be owned.” (ADWD Daenerys III)

~

Her freedmen were represented by the captains of the three companies she had formed—Mollono Yos Dob of the Stalwart Shields, Symon Stripeback of the Free Brothers, Marselen of the Mother’s Men. Reznak mo Reznak hovered at the queen’s elbow, and Strong Belwas stood behind her with his huge arms crossed. Dany would not lack for counsel. (ADWD Daenerys III)

~

When you smashed the slave trade, the blow was felt from Westeros to Asshai. Qarth depends upon its slaves. So too Tolos, New Ghis, Lys, Tyrosh, Volantis … the list is long, my queen.”

“Let them come. In me they shall find a sterner foe than Cleon. I would sooner perish fighting than return my children to bondage.” (ADWD Daenerys IV)

~

“Lingering here will never bring it any closer. The sooner we take our leave of this place—”

“I know. I do.” Dany did not know how to make him see. She wanted Westeros as much as he did, but first she must heal Meereen. (ADWD Daenerys IV)

~

Yesterday a wagon had been overturned and two of her soldiers killed, so today the queen had determined that she would bring the food herself. Every one of her advisors had argued fervently against it, from Reznak and the Shavepate to Ser Barristan, but Daenerys would not be moved. “I will not turn away from them,” she said stubbornly. “A queen must know the sufferings of her people.” (ADWD Daenerys VI)

[fierypen37]

Victory is in Your Veins: Chapter 8

Chapter 8

 Day One Hundred and Sixty-Three: The Dragon Queen

 In the dimness, Daenerys could see in Rakharo’s face that her plan would not work. Her bloodrider mopped the sweat from his brow and accepted the waterskin Irri offered.

“They draw water from a stream, khaleesi. It will not work,” he said. Daenerys bit back a groan of frustration, thumping her head back down on her bedroll. Not a breath of wind tonight, instead the air hung thick and oppressive. Sweat trickled down between her shoulder blades, beneath her breasts. Irri had found a buckthorn grove not far from their small campsite. If powdered and smuggled into their drinking water, the poison would dissolve their bowels. A feigned curse would be enough to warn away any further attacks on the local Lhazareen. It took some convincing for her bloodriders to consider the plan at all. It was considered a poor victory should they succeed.

Daenerys exhaled a sharp breath, peering up at the overcast night sky. Their Lhazareen guide found an enclosed cave in the jagged stone of the Painted Hills. She called them ‘mother-nests.’ By Daenerys’ reckoning, the Hills were similar to the Mother of Mountains for the Lamb Men. In the three days since arriving at the Painted Hills, she and her small council had tested first one plan, then another. Kovarro plucked the spitted pheasant roasting over their smoky campfire and poked it, testing the cook. Licking the grease from his fingers, he set it back in its place.

“There is no other way, then. I have to confront the riders directly,” she said. The fire was reflected in Rakharo’s black eyes, his face settling into a stern mien.

“I cannot allow it, as blood of your blood. Khal Lanno is a skilled rider. He or his men will cut you down.”

“You will not risk yourself for these--” Irri began, then broke off at Daenerys’ weary placating gesture. Gods, she was tired of quelling squabbles between them.

“It must be done. Scout the valley tomorrow. I go to summon my children,” Daenerys said, rising and wiggling through the narrow passage to the plains.

On the ridge overlooking the Painted Hills, the plains slept silent around her. The stillness was unnerving after a fortnight buffeted by unceasing wind. Daenerys looked up the clear open sky, dazzled by the stars. In her books, she learned the Westerosi names for the constellations, often drawn in different patterns than what she’d learned in Essos. She found the Moonmaid, and the Ice Dragon. Daenerys screwed her eyes tight shut, casting her senses out and up. Searching, waiting. There! A faint tug, a glimmer.

“Drogon,” she said aloud. The leathery flap of his wings, the strive of his muscles. A breeze teased her face. Opening her eyes, she found Drogon gliding down to land at her feet. Flying and hunting on the plains nourished him. While no larger, he looked more muscular, sturdier. Drogon made a low clicking sound, dragon love-words. Daenerys sat cross-legged and Drogon crawled onto her lap.

“Hello, my darling. I shall need you and your brothers’ help tomorrow,” she said. His claws fisted in her tunic, but as with their play, he never gripped too hard to break the skin. Daenerys stroked her hands down the smooth scales of his neck, his flanks, his wings. Drogon hummed rhythmically, almost a purr, arching his back into her touch. Daenerys met the amber-red of his eyes, and sought that inner stillness. The glimmer was there, pulsing like the heart of a flame. Drogon. Tense with focus, Daenerys sought to touch the wavering glimmer. Drogon, she thought. A beckoning, of thought of welcome. Her hand on his side felt the rise and fall of his breath, synced with hers. It was working! It was—The focus wavered, dissipated like fog. Daenerys slumped, trembling from the effort. Drogon shook himself, butting his head against her chin. She blew out a sigh.

“That’s progress. We’ll have to make do.”

 Day One Hundred and Sixty-Four

 Irri shook her awake after what felt like scant heartbeats of sleep. Long into the night, the group of them etched out a plan. Rakharo and Kovarro would sneak into the Dothraki camp below, drink and game with the riders. Find a way to untie the strings of horses. Irri and their Lhazareen guide would cause as much mischief as they could: cut tent supports, loose captive herds, stoke cookfires. Sow chaos so they may reap destruction.

“Do not endanger yourselves. Hear me? I will not have you harmed,” Daenerys said to each of them sternly. Irri embraced her with whispered promises. Kovarro tugged Daenerys’ braid playfully. Rakharo cupped her chin and held her gaze, all his characteristic good-nature mellowed into seriousness.

“I swore to protect you. I intend to do so from this day until the day you sit on that Iron Chair,” he said. Tears filled her eyes, touched by their loyalty, by the risk they took for her sake. She swallowed them. A khaleesi could not weep.

“You do me honor, blood of my blood,” she said, her voice firm and even.

Daenerys stood alone with the sun kissing her shoulders, buffeted by the winds of the plains as she watched them pick their way down the canyon. Nervous energy tingled in her hands, her belly. A glance overhead found the clear placid blue of the sky. No sign of Drogon, Rhaegal, or Viserion. They will come. I must trust them.

She shouldered her pack and set off. Her path was narrow and rocky. More than once, she skittered down the switchbacks on her bottom along with a small avalanche of reddish pebbles. Don’t look down, the shepherdess had warned.

“Wise advice,” Daenerys muttered to herself. Dizzying empty air waited for her if her careful concentration broke.

At last, she was on solid even ground. Daenerys craned her head, taking in the steep walls of red-brown stone with a window of blue sky above. She licked her lips, tasting dust and sweat. The heat of exertion was quickly cooling, and she shivered in the deep shade. Daenerys groped in her pack for her waterskin. She rationed a sip. It might take them all day to goad the riders. Daenerys peered through a crack in the stone. Her position was in a slot canyon at the north end of the valley, too small for a horse to ride through. Should the plan fail, it would be where she would hide until her bloodriders could smuggle her away. What remained unspoken was that if they failed, if they were unable to tame the khalasar, then on foot, they could not outrun them. And Dothraki were grassland hunters since the beginning of time. If they did not win, then only death waited for them.

She could see the camp in the distance. Daenerys sat at her post, leaning against her pack, torn between nervousness and boredom as the sun climbed in the sky. Thoughts buzzed around her head, as annoying as stinging midges. Gods. This was madness. How had she agreed to this? Disaster or success lay on a knife’s edge. If Khal Lanno’s men caught them, Rakharo and Kovarro’s deaths would be prolonged and gruesome. Worse still if Irri and their guide were caught. The shepherdess had been wise enough to leave her crook and shawl behind, but what would she do if they were caught? Without a guide, the Lhazareen plains would swallow her whole.

A fine vibration drew her from her worries. Horses! She crept from her hiding place and onto the dry yellow knee-high grasses of the valley floor. Daenerys shaded her eyes, squinting into the distance. In the camp, there was a confused scrum of movement. Men and horses running this way and that, her bloodriders’ work, with any hope. Dark plumes of smoke danced in the wind. Irri and the shepherdess had succeeded.

“Please win free safely,” she whispered.

Stir the khalasar up like upsetting an anthill, lather them up into a confused mess. In that, they had accomplished their goal. She waited, alone on the plain as the sun beat down. Sweat trickled down her back beneath the weight of her braid. Despite the heat, Daenerys felt cold as the horsemen seethed.

She knew the instant an outrider saw her. His ululating shriek cut through the air. Daenerys marshalled her courage, though nausea roiled in her belly. Another rider took up the call and with startling swiftness, the scrum became a charge. Dozens of mounted warriors galloping toward her. The ground shuddered beneath her feet at the thunder of hooves. Fear slicked her skin with cold sweat. Should she run? Should she dart away in case they sent an arrow after her? Instead, she shouted with all her strength: “Drogon! Rhaegal! Viserion!”  

She screwed her eyes shut, shutting out the terror, the approaching riders. Groping through the dark, she sought the faraway glow of Drogon. The thunder rumbled louder; the shrieks shred her ears. Drogon! Drogon! DROGON!

It wasn’t a glimmer but a blaze, like the bleeding star that streaked across the sky.

Daenerys opened her eyes.

“Dracarys!”

A stream of black fire scorched the earth between her and the approaching riders. Drogon shrieked. Rhaegal’s green fire and Viserion’s white soon joined his, engulfing two horsemen. The dried grasses caught and the fire spread, mellowing from dragonfire into a milder orange. Horses shied and bolted in terror, despite the lash of their rider’s whips. Daenerys watched as several horses fell in their haste to flee, crushing their riders beneath their weight. The shrill screams of broken horses filled her ears. One rider was able to goad his mount through the fire toward her, but Drogon descended, claws and fangs shredding his face to a bloody mess.

“Dracarys! Dracarys!”

Rhaegal and Viserion swooped and darted through the air, burning at her command.

Their battle cries had sharpened to cries of pain and yes, even fear as dragons danced above them. The colors of their fire twined together. Daenerys walked through the blaze unharmed, scanning the plain for her own riders.        

“Khaleesi!” Kovarro’s voice broke through the roar of the fire, and the din of the chaos. Thank the gods. He pulled his twitchy, blowing mount to a halt. Lather dripped from the rein-line on its thick neck, the lolling brown eye watched her fearfully.

“The others?” Daenerys asked, as Kovarro hauled her up behind him.

“Rakharo headed north with the other two. Come khaleesi! We ride!” The horse lunged forward, away from the fire.

“Māzigon, trēsi issa!” {Come, my sons!}

They galloped off, leaving Khal Lanno’s men to burn.    

 ~

 Day Two Hundred and Eight: The White Wolf

 By his reckoning, he and the Summer Islander were roughly the same age. Tall and slender with a soft crown of springy black hair and eyes as golden as a shadowcat’s. She wore a leather collar, so she was a slave as he was. Not a worshipper, judging by her huddled posture, and yet no stranger to harsh treatment, judging by her watchful eyes. Had Morrgys really thrown an innocent into his cell and expected him to rape her? You are a wolf. You did what a wolf would do. No, he was a man. A man of the North, a man of honor. Jon went to one knee in a liquid-smooth motion.

“What’s your name?” he asked gently.

“This one’s name is Missandei,” she whispered.

“Missandei. They call me Zokla timpa, but my name is—Jon. Jon Snow.” For a long, unsettling moment, Jon tried to think of who he had last spoken to in such a calm, polite way. Or had shared his name, other than to Morrgys. He couldn’t remember. Something inside him quaked at the thought. Had he forgotten gentleness and kindness? He would find it for this girl. She would know no violence from him. Her posture relaxed slightly, though still wary.

“Jon Snow? A westerner?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Your Valyrian is terrible. Like a drunkard with a burned tongue. This one can speak Common,” she said, switching languages mid-sentence. Even her accent is lovely. Jon chuckled low in his throat at her apt description of his Valyrian.

“I didn’t have a good teacher,” he answered in Common. It felt good to speak familiar words. Valyrian often sat heavy on his tongue, garbled and confusing. Jon poured hippocras in his sole cup and offered it to her. At her narrow look, Jon took a gulp. The sweet and spice slid down his throat thick as honey.

“Hippocras. A bit sweet for my taste, but a slave gets little choice,” he said. Missandei accepted the cup and drained it thirstily. Jon snagged the flagon to refill it. No food, really. Naught but a heel of bread and a paring of cheese, scarcely more than a rind. Jon offered it to his guest, in addition to the last of his roughspun blankets. Even in the heat of Volantis, the bowels of a slave’s quarters could be chilly before the sun rose.

“Thank you,” she said, tucking the blanket around her shoulders.

“You’re welcome.”

An awkward silence fell between them. Jon waved off her offer to share the remaining bread.

“What did you do for your master to punish you so?” Jon asked after a moment.  

“This one—I—ran from my master.” Jon’s eyebrows rose to his hairline. Slaves were executed for as much. Morrgys, a native of Astapor, droned on and on about the infamous Walk of Punishment, where slaves were flogged and crucified as a warning against disobedience.

“Escape?” he asked, incredulous. Missandei gave him a narrow look.

“No. I . . . I thought I saw my brother in the crowd. I ran after him.”

“Oh. Did you find him?” Missandei dropped her gaze to the cup held between her hands.

“It—it wasn’t him,” she said. Jon nodded.

“I think the master sent you to me as a reward. For errm--” He broke off, raking his hand through his hair. Missandei saved him embarrassment.

“The pleasures of the flesh. Yes, this one knows.” Ghosts of old pain hid behind the words, Jon heard the echo of them. He risked laying a hand on her arm. She flinched, watching him with those wise golden eyes.

“I won’t harm you, I swear it. Though when the guard returns, we need to playact a bit.”

“I understand.” Awkward silence fell between them. Even in the best of circumstances, Jon had little skill with words. Robb was the one with the pretty manners, and Arya made friends with stableboys and lord’s daughters alike with ease.  

“It is said there are no slaves in Westeros,” Missandei said, chewing on the heel of bread. Not by that name, though the smallfolk are treated poorly.

“There are not. I was captured.” Missandei nodded in sympathy. Golden eyes watched him.

“This one has heard tell of you, Jon Snow. Whispers from other slaves. You defy your master.” The thought pleased him.

“I defy my master?”

“In Myr, you did not kill a boy in the arena, though it earned you punishment. Before that, in Pentos, you slew a villain who raped children.”

“How did—”

“Slaves are notorious gossips. What else is there to do?” Missandei said, with the barest hint of a smile. Jon returned the gesture.

“The Pentoshi was a brute and a coward, he deserved what he got. Earned me a week in The Pit,” he said. Missandei gave a discreet shudder. Masters apparently had similar punishments for house slaves. Jon slouched against the stone wall. An idea germinated in his mind. Perhaps his status as a defiant pit fighter could foment something. There were two slaves to every free man in Volantis. He’d heard Morbo muttering of a slave rebellion savagely silenced somewhere farther East.

“Could you . . . pass on my regards, and tell them to await my next fight?” Missandei’s mouth thinned into a frown. There was wariness in her posture, but he could see the gleam of a certain defiant hope in her eyes. Silence stretched on as she considered. He did not blame her for taking time to think. Masters would punish dissenters by the harshest means conceivable.

“This one will do so. Do you--”

The scrape of hobnailed sandals alerted him. He stood, quivering, like Ghost catching a scent. Getting closer. The guard was coming to collect Missandei.

“Follow my lead,” he hissed. Jon knelt and braced himself over her beneath the blanket. Missandei hissed, stiff and resisting.

“It’s farce, my friend. I swore I would not hurt you,” he whispered. Jon clamped a hand over her mouth, rocking against her in a pantomime of rape. He dribbled hippocras on her beneath the blanket. A sticky red stain on her thighs and grubby linen of dress. For her part, Missandei wasn’t still. She thrashed and clawed at him, snarling and hissing like a cat. She nearly kneed him in the stones. As the guard rounded the corner, Jon pinched her inner arm, hard. Missandei squealed.

“Enough, Zokla timpa!” the guard said, loosing the whip coiled around his chest while another unlocked the door. Jon growled and rolled off her. Missandei could have been a mummer in another life. The way she clutched the wet tails of her gown and screamed and sobbed would put any other player to shame. As one guard led her away, she caught his eye and winked. Jon leaned back against the cell wall, breathing deeply as if from exertion. A warm feeling bubbled in his chest. I think I made a friend.      

“Send my master my thanks,” Jon wheezed.

The next day, the Twins oversaw the slaves in day-to-day training. Manacled hand and foot, Jon lifted lead weights to strengthen his muscles. He gripped the iron weight and curled his arm up. The day was unmercifully hot, the air a choking, humid kiss. Sweat made his linen tunic cling to him. It itched and tickled as droplets meandered down his body. Irritably, he had tied his hair up away from his face.

“Slow. Controlled,” the trainer said, watching his form with gimlet eyes. In the training yard, the slave masters were cautious. It should be an easy place to provoke rebellion, but guards were thick and well-armed. Slaves only faced one another in the yard under the eye of their trainer.

Morrgys approached him, surrounded by the usual gaggle of bodyguards and serving slaves. One held a silken shade over the master’s head to shield him from the harsh Volantene sun. Morbo stood beside him, stiff and at attention. A cut beneath his left eye was a naught but a black scab now. His hair fell in a gleaming black fringe to his chin. Jon had learned Dothraki cut their braids when defeated in combat. Another loss then. The Dothraki was right be nervous. The slave masters did not tolerate failure. Morrgys had that gleam in his eye, of avarice, of cruelty. Jon knew before he spoke that he would be in arena again soon.

“Zokla timpa, you look fit.” Jon blew out a breath as he finished the set, easing the heavy weight down. His fingers ached, the burn slowly receding from his muscles.

“Yes, Master,” he said simply. If there was one thing he’d learned about Morrgys, it was that he loved the sound of his own voice.

“That slave girl was inconsolable, Kraznys mo Nakloz says.” Jon said nothing.

“Good boy. It was reward and punishment both.” The thought of Missandei suffering woke the red rage that slumbered inside him. Fucking worm.

“Master,” Jon said in Common so as not to stumble over Valyrian, “the girl is wasted as a body slave. She is intelligent. She could better serve her master as a translator, she speaks many.” Morrgys let out a bark of harsh laughter.

“How do you know this, Wolf?”

“She cursed me in several different tongues,” Jon said. The lie would bolster their fiction, and perhaps make Missandei’s life a modicum easier. Morrgys chuckled again, but he could see the idea turning in mind.  

“Good. Good. You will fight in the arena tomorrow. A special match ordered by the triarchs.”

“Tycho,” Jon said with a nod.

“Tycho, and more. An elimination games.”

Jon’s stomach fell to his toes. Much like a tournament, elimination games saw groups whittled down to a single winner. The only difference was, there was no rest in between. To win, he had to kill all the others before he succumbed to exhaustion. It would be his hardest test yet.

[adreamofspring-archive]

By midday Daenerys was feeling the weight of the crown upon her head, and the hardness of the bench beneath her. With so many still waiting on her pleasure, she did not stop to eat. Instead she dispatched Jhiqui to the kitchens for a platter of flatbread, olives, figs, and cheese. She nibbled whilst she listened, and sipped from a cup of watered wine. The figs were fine, the olives even finer, but the wine left a tart metallic aftertaste in her mouth. The small pale yellow grapes native to these regions produced a notably inferior vintage. We shall have no trade in wine. Besides, the Great Masters had burned the best arbors along with the olive trees.

In the afternoon a sculptor came, proposing to replace the head of the great bronze harpy in the Plaza of Purification with one cast in Dany’s image. She denied him with as much courtesy as she could muster. A pike of unprecedented size had been caught in the Skahazadhan, and the fisherman wished to give it to the queen. She admired the fish extravagantly, rewarded the fisherman with a purse of silver, and sent the pike to her kitchens. A coppersmith had fashioned her a suit of burnished rings to wear to war. She accepted it with fulsome thanks; it was lovely to behold, and all that burnished copper would flash prettily in the sun, though if actual battle threatened, she would sooner be clad in steel. Even a young girl who knew nothing of the ways of war knew that.

The slippers the Butcher King had sent her had grown too uncomfortable. Dany kicked them off and sat with one foot tucked beneath her and the other swinging back and forth. It was not a very regal pose, but she was tired of being regal. The crown had given her a headache, and her buttocks had gone to sleep. “Ser Barristan,” she called, “I know what quality a king needs most.”

“Courage, Your Grace?”

“Cheeks like iron,” she teased. “All I do is sit.”

“Your Grace takes too much on herself. You should allow your councillors to shoulder more of your burdens.”

“I have too many councillors and too few cushions.” Dany turned to Reznak. “How many more?”

“Three-and-twenty, if it please Your Magnificence. With as many claims.” The seneschal consulted some papers. “One calf and three goats. The rest will be sheep or lambs, no doubt.”

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

“Some men have brought burnt bones.”

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

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

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

“It shall be done.” Reznak turned to the petitioners. “Her Magnificence the Queen has consented to compensate each of you for the animals you have lost,” he told them in the Ghiscari tongue. “Present yourselves to my factors on the morrow, and you shall be paid in coin or kind, as you prefer.”

The pronouncement was received in sullen silence. You would think they might be happier, Dany thought. They have what they came for. Is there no way to please these people?

One man lingered behind as the rest were filing out—a squat man with a windburnt face, shabbily dressed. His hair was a cap of coarse red-black wire cropped about his ears, and in one hand he held a sad cloth sack. He stood with his head down, gazing at the marble floor as if he had quite forgotten where he was. And what does this one want? Dany wondered.

“All kneel for Daenerys Stormborn, the Unburnt, Queen of Meereen, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Khaleesi of Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Shackles, and Mother of Dragons,” cried Missandei in her high, sweet voice.

As Dany stood, her tokar began to slip. She caught it and tugged it back in place. “You with the sack,” she called, “did you wish to speak with us? You may approach.” When he raised his head, his eyes were red and raw as open sores. Dany glimpsed Ser Barristan sliding closer, a white shadow at her side. The man approached in a stumbling shuffle, one step and then another, clutching his sack. Is he drunk, or ill? she wondered. There was dirt beneath his cracked yellow fingernails.

“What is it?” Dany asked. “Do you have some grievance to lay before us, some petition? What would you have of us?” His tongue flicked nervously over chapped, cracked lips.

“I … I brought …”

“Bones?” she said, impatiently. “Burnt bones?” He lifted the sack, and spilled its contents on the marble.

Bones they were, broken bones and blackened. The longer ones had been cracked open for their marrow.

“It were the black one,” the man said, in a Ghiscari growl, “the winged shadow. He come down from the sky and … and …”

No. Dany shivered. No, no, oh no.

“Are you deaf, fool?” Reznak mo Reznak demanded of the man. “Did you not hear my pronouncement? See my factors on the morrow, and you shall be paid for your sheep.”

“Reznak,” Ser Barristan said quietly, “hold your tongue and open your eyes. Those are no sheep bones.”

No, Dany thought, those are the bones of a child.

[hylialeia]

I've always gelt that Dany test in men is a bit self-insert from the author, also I think being a child who grow up without love, if someone is good to her and gave her love she's going to love them at the moment

That’s certainly a big factor in it. I also think Daenerys’ preferences fall heavily towards who will give her the control, agency, and respect she was denied growing up.

Qotho was ever the cruelest of the bloodriders. It was he who laughed. “Does the horse breed with the sheep?”          

Something in his tone reminded her of Viserys. Dany turned on him angrily. “The dragon feeds on horse and sheep alike.”                  

Khal Drogo smiled. “See how fierce she grows!” he said. “It is my son inside her, the stallion who mounts the world, filling her with his fire. Ride slowly, Qotho … if the mother does not burn you where you sit, the son will trample you into the mud. And you, Mago, hold your tongue and find another lamb to mount. These belong to my khaleesi.” (Daenerys VII, AGOT)

“I swore that I should wed Hizdahr zo Loraq if he gave me ninety days of peace, but now … I wanted you from the first time that I saw you, but you were a sellsword, fickle, treacherous. You boasted that you’d had a hundred women.”  

“A hundred?” Daario chuckled through his purple beard. “I lied, sweet queen. It was a thousand. But never once a dragon.” (Daenerys VI, ADWD)

Khal Drogo and Daario both satisfy this desire, with Daario respecting her status and Drogo being the first man to give Daenerys control over her circumstances (though I maintain that Dany’s feelings for Drogo also surfaced as a coping mechanism, not dissimilar to Stockholm syndrome).

There’s also a theme of Daenerys being attracted to people who are dangerous, exciting, or unpredictable.

And Daenerys Targaryen, whatever else she might be, was still a young girl, as she herself would claim when it pleased her to play the innocent. Like all good queens she put her people first—else she would never have wed Hizdahr zo Loraq—but the girl in her still yearned for poetry, passion, and laughter. She wants fire, and Dorne sent her mud. (The Discarded Knight, ADWD)

Setting aside for the moment that this passage from Barristan’s POV is flavored with his own biases and sexism (and possibly a bit of bitterness regarding Ashara Dayne’s implied affair with Brandon Stark), Dany does have a tendency to gravitate towards the “fire” in others, and often romanticizes things. She’s like Sansa in this way, yet another parallel between the two (though Sansa’s type is a bit different), only Daenerys has a few more years of experience that help her suppress those urges.

The girl in her wanted to kiss him so much it hurt. His kisses would be hard and cruel, she told herself, and he would not care if I cried out or commanded him to stop. But the queen in her knew that would be folly. (Daenerys IV, ADWD)

Notably, Dany differentiates between her personal desires and her responsible ones. It doesn’t erase “the girl in her”, but it silences it the best she can.

There’s nothing particularly wrong with this, despite what Ser Barristan suggests. Daenerys has an aesthetic type (alongside her basic requirements of respect and agency), and that type is charismatic, physically impressive, potentially dangerous men.

She also apparently has a thing for blue or purple hair. And gold teeth. And maybe pirates and older men. I guess.

Thanks, GRRM.

[sayruq]

Daenerys and Irri

Her brother Viserys gifted her with three handmaids. Dany knew they had cost him nothing; Illyrio no doubt had provided the girls. Irri and Jhiqui were copper-skinned Dothraki with black hair and almond-shaped eyes, Doreah a fair-haired, blue-eyed Lysene girl. "These are no common servants, sweet sister," her brother told her as they were brought forward one by one. "Illyrio and I selected them personally for you. Irri will teach you riding, Jhiqui the Dothraki tongue, and Doreah will instruct you in the womanly arts of love." He smiled thinly. "She's very good, Illyrio and I can both swear to that."

this is the very first introduction we get of irri. don’t let the handmaiden title fool you. these girls are slaves, it’s just that pentos made a deal with braavos to end slavery within the city state which they did officially but unofficially slavery still thrived. dany knows this as she references their price and how illyrio, a pentosi magister bought them. irri, jhiqui and doreah become dany’s first slaves. jhiqui and irri’s job was to help dany assimilate into the dothraki culture which she does to an extent. their relationship to dany remains strictly formal and most of their appearances in dany’s chapters are dedicated to doing servant’s work, saying a few quirky dothraki beliefs and offering advice that dany usually doesn’t listen to (which is fine. i’m just pointing out that while they’re present, they’re unimportant in dany’s retinue). keep this in mind. 

when agot ends, drogo’s khalasar splits and yet dany’s dothraki slaves remain. this has been touted as a sign’s dany ability to inspire loyalty in others. the truth is, while irri and jhiqui kept dany alive after she gave birth, they really had nowhere to go. despite the fact that she owned them, dany wasn’t usually abusive. drogo’s bloodriders weren’t so restrained.

And while old Cohollo treated her kindly enough, the others frightened her; Haggo, huge and silent, often glowered as if he had forgotten who she was, and Qotho had cruel eyes and quick hands that liked to hurt. He left bruises on Doreah's soft white skin whenever he touched her, and sometimes made Irri sob in the night.

so it was better to deal with this

Eroeh stared fearfully at Drogo where he lay. "He dies," she whispered.Dany slapped her. "The khal cannot die. He is the father of the stallion who mounts the world. His hair has never been cut. He still wears the bells his father gave him."

if it ever happened than the former. in the harsh dothraki life, slaves were at the bottom and had no protection and were given none of the comforts drogo and his inner circle enjoyed. better irri and jhiqui stay with dany than go off to be mistreated worse.

dany makes the choice to go through the red waste to escape any khalasar they might meet who’ll no doubt destroy them. irri and jhiqui followed especially because dany’s enemies would have no problem brutalising them.

Something in his tone reminded her of Viserys. Dany turned on him angrily. "The dragon feeds on horse and sheep alike."Khal Drogo smiled. "See how fierce she grows!" he said. "It is my son inside her, the stallion who mounts the world, filling her with his fire. Ride slowly, Qotho … if the mother does not burn you where you sit, the son will trample you into the mud. And you, Mago, hold your tongue and find another lamb to mount. These belong to my khaleesi." He started to reach out a hand to Daenerys, but as he lifted his arm Drogo grimaced in sudden pain and turned his head. 

"Eroeh?" asked Dany, remembering the frightened child she had saved outside the city of the Lamb Men."Mago seized her, who is Khal Jhaqo's bloodrider now," said Jhogo. "He mounted her high and low and gave her to his khal, and Jhaqo gave her to his other bloodriders. They were six. When they were done with her, they cut her throat."

as you can see, irri and jhiqui don’t exactly have a lot of options. they follow dany because she’s the least worst option. this remains the same across all of dany’s chapters, that she’s either the least worst option or it’s not safe to leave her side. from qarth they went to astapor. in astapor, dany ordered the unsullied to kill the masters and she left the city with a much bigger army than before. she attacks the yunkai and moves to meereen which she also takes. then astapor is reduced to nothing and multiple factions look to defeat dany. within meereen the sons of the harpy terrorise everyone. even if irri wanted to leave dany’s service as a ‘freedwoman’ there’s so much warring and conflict that once again it’s safer to remain with daenerys. not only that irri wasn’t truly freed.

"Whores are found in brothels here, as in Westeros. You will have no need of such, my little friend. Choose from amongst my servingwomen. None will dare refuse you."

"Slaves?" the dwarf asked pointedly.

The fat man stroked one of the prongs of his oiled yellow beard, a gesture Tyrion found remarkably obscene. "Slavery is forbidden in Pentos, by the terms of the treaty the Braavosi imposed on us a hundred years ago. Still, they will not refuse you."

there is no difference for irri and jhiqui before and after being freed. even they don’t think they’re free.

"Yes." Her hair was disheveled and her bedclothes all atangle, Dany realized. "Help me dress. I'll have a cup of wine as well. To clear my head." To drown my dream. She could hear the soft sounds of sobs. "Who is that weeping?"

"Your slave Missandei." Jhiqui had a taper in her hand.

"My servant. I have no slaves." Dany did not understand. "Why does she weep?"

they still serve dany the same without any pay and without question. 

She commanded her handmaids to prepare her a bath. Doreah built a fire outside the tent, while Irri and Jhiqui fetched the big copper tub—another bride gift—from the packhorses and carried water from the pool. When the bath was steaming, Irri helped her into it and climbed in after her.

- A Game of Thrones (Daenerys III)

When all the men had gone, her handmaids stripped off the travelstained silks she wore, and Dany padded out to where the marble pool sat in the shade of a portico.

-

Her doubts made her shiver. Suddenly the water felt cold to her, and the little fish prickling at her skin annoying. Dany stood and climbed from the pool. “Irri,” she called, “Jhiqui.

- A Clash of Kings (Daenerys II)

With Jhiqui's help, she wound the tokar about herself correctly on her third attempt. Irri fetched her crown, wrought in the shape of the three-headed dragon of her House. Its coils were gold, its wings silver, its three heads ivory, onyx, and jade.

- A Dance with Dragons

only their official status has changed just like the serving women in pentos. this brings me to the point i have been building up to, dany’s sexual relationship with irri and why it’s not consensual. slaves by virtue of being slaves cannot consent to sex with their master because only one person is deciding whether or not the sexual encounter can happen. not only that the power imbalance is so large that consent would only be given under some form of duress. in other words it’s safer to go along with it than to refuse. even if irri was merely dany’s servant she would feel pressured and dany would still be taking advantage of her.

Dany knew her face was flushed, but in the darkness Irri surely could not tell. Wordless, the handmaid put a hand on her breast, then bent to take a nipple in her mouth. Her other hand drifted down across the soft curve of belly, through the mound of fine silvery-gold hair, and went to work between Dany's thighs. It was no more than a few moments until her legs twisted and her breasts heaved and her whole body shuddered. She screamed then. Or perhaps that was Drogon. Irri never said a thing, only curled back up and went back to sleep the instant the thing was done.

.

Should I pleasure the khaleesi?"

Dany stepped away from her. "No. Irri, you do not need to do that. What happened that night, when you woke . . . you're no bed slave, I freed you, remember? You . . ."

"I am handmaid to the Mother of Dragons," the girl said. "It is great honor to please my khaleesi."

.

Later, when the time came for sleep, Dany took Irri into bed with her, for the first time since the ship. But even as she shuddered in release and wound her fingers through her handmaid's thick black hair, she pretended it was Drogo holding her . . . only somehow his face kept turning into Daario's. If I want Daario I need only say so. She lay with Irri's legs entangled in her own.

.

Irri slept soundly beside her, her lips slightly parted, one dark brown nipple peeping out above the sleeping silks. For a moment Dany was tempted, but it was Drogo she wanted, or perhaps Daario. Not Irri. The maid was sweet and skillful, but all her kisses tasted of duty. 

not only is pleasuring a khaleesi something that was expected of irri given how she dispassionately but skillfully does it, dany knows that it was wrong, that irri would feel as if it was part of her many duties. dany feels guilty but she does it again. when irri and jhiqui express desire for someone, dany responds tartly.

When Daenerys returned to her pyramid, sore of limb and sick of heart, she found Missandei reading some old scroll whilst Irri and Jhiqui argued about Rakharo. "You are too skinny for him," Jhiqui was saying. "You are almost a boy. Rakharo does not bed with boys. This is known." Irri bristled back. "It is known that you are almost a cow. Rakharo does not bed with cows."

"Rakharo is blood of my blood. His life belongs to me, not you," Dany told the two of them.

to someone like irri, imagine the kind of message this would send.

one could argue that grrm doesn’t understand consent which is why dany was written like this but i disagree. grrm follows these encounters with a tyrion chapter in which he highlights the lack of choice ‘freed’ women have. we’re meant to look at these not as examples of dany’s bisexuality but her increasing willingness put her comfort, happiness and ambition above the lives of the people she claimed to help. it’s not shocking dany walked back her strict anti slavery stance and it’s not shocking that despite knowing that what she was doing was wrong, dany does it anyway.

[ffirekissed]

    ♔ 「  emilia clarke , female , she/her , bisexual 」 →  we proudly present DAENERYS TARGARYEN , the PRINCESS of THE SEVEN KINGDOMS.  they are TWENTY-SIX years old and can often be described as CARING and CHARISMATIC.  but whispers betray that they’re also DOUBTFUL and RUTHLESS.  many know that their allegiance lies with HOUSE TARGARYEN , however , when their songs sing of SILVER HAIR & LILAC EYES and TOUGH DRAGON SCALES , IMPERVIOUS TO THE FLAMES.  fate has currently placed them in kings landing due to HER BROTHERS CORONATION.  will they win their game?  or die trying?  ( kyoto , she/her , twenty-one , est )  

daenerys was born to the mad king aerys ii and his sister-wife rhaella on dragonstone during the night of a severe thunderstorm.  this earned her the name stormborn.  with her father previously murdered by his kingsguard jaime lannister , and her mother’s death during childbirth , she and her older brother , viserys were taken across the narrow sea to the free cities by loyal retainers.  there daenerys grew under the heavy hand of her brother whose primary goal was go gain enough support to retake his rightful place on the iron throne.

in order to achieve this , viserys would sell daenerys to khal drogo of the dothraki in exchange for 40 000 men.  while drogo took her across the great grass sea to vaes dothrak , viserys stayed comfortable in pentos.  daenerys found some confidence during her time as khaleesi , with her three petrified dragon eggs and the prophecy that her unborn son , rhaego , would be the stallion that would mount the world.  daenerys attempts to convince drogo to invade westeros so their son can sit on the iron throne , but it isn’t until after an attempted assassination attempt that drogo promises to daenerys that he will lead his khalasar across the narrow sea and seize the seven kingdoms in fire and blood.  he never sees that promise through , however , as during one of their raiding parties in order to raise funds for ships , drogo is injured and then “healed” by mirri maz dur.  the godswife would use bloodmagic to heal drogo , but it left him in a vegetative state and steal the life of daenery’s unborn child.  most of the khalasar abandons them when drogo falls from his horse.  a funeral pyre is constructe for drogo and on it she places her three dragon eggs and enters the fire.  in the morning , though the pyre has burned to ash , daenerys has survived and clinging to her body is three newly hatched dragons.  the dothraki and ser jorah proclaim daenerys their queen and leader.

daenerys leads the remnents of her khalasar across the red waste to qarth.  here daenerys tries to negotiate for ships to return to westeros but no one sees any return in it for themselves.  her men had then been brutally murdered and her three young dragons stolen.  daenerys enters the house of the undying where she sees tempting visions ;  a snowy , ruined throne room in king’s landing where she turns away from the iron throne , and then in drogo’s tent where she sees him holding rhaego.  she leaves once again and finds her dragons chained to a pedestal.  drogon , rhaegal , and rhaena burn the mage to death at daenerys’ word.  the dothraki seize her xaro’s gold and jewels and sail to astapor in slaver’s bay.

here daenerys encounters the horror of slavery.  she bargians with kraznys to buy 8 000 unsullied soldiers and missandei in exchange for drogon.  on the day of the exchange , kraznys gives her the golden whip and daenerys gives him drogon on a chain.  when kraznys compains that drogon does not obey , daenerys replies that drogon does not obey him because he is not a slave.  drogon then burns him alive.  she then frees the unsullied and tells them to slay their masters and free all the slaves in astapor.  on their march to yunkai , daenerys tells the unsullied to pick a commander from their own ranks. grey worm is chosen.  

she holds audience with one the wise masters outside of yunkai where he attempts to bribe her by providing gold and ships needed to invade westeros. in exchange , daenerys would leave yunkai in peace.  in response , daenerys makes a counteroffer :  she’ll spare the lives of the slave masters if every slave is set free and given compensation.  she then attempts an allyship with the second sons.  daario naharis , the third-in-command of the second sons beheaded his commanders and swears fealy to daenerys.  the targaryen forces captured yunkai within a few hours. in the morning , the former slaves exit the city and regard daenerys as their mhysa , or mother.

au !!

her relationship with her teen dragons become troubling as drogon snaps at daenerys after her attempt to calm their fight over a dead lamb.  on their way to meereen , they find a trail of crucified slaves.  she orders each one taken down , their slave collars removed , and burried.  

once she reaches the gates of meereen , however , daenerys is called back to pentos by her waiting brother.  finally word had reached him of daenerys’ exploits.  she travels back and viserys is angry at the followers she’s gained ; some dothraki , unsullied and second sons.  he attempts to take over control several times , but they all still rely on daenerys’ word.  viserys also attempts to ride the cream and gold female dragon , rhaena , named for their mother.  she nearly kills him , however.  but with the money she’s gained they purchase ships and sail for westeros.

they land on dragonstone first , having been abandoned by stannis baratheon and his forces as they fought in the war of the five kings.  daenerys is home , but it doesn’t truly feel like home.  viserys grows more unhinged as the iron throne is mere leagues away. 

it’s on dragonstone that daenerys mounts drogon for the first time.  a fight had started between the two siblings on the cliffs , near where her dragons were sunbathing.  viserys had snapped at her and started yell about how confident she had become.  ❛  you’ve woken the dragon , ❜  he says as he begins to beat her.  drogon arrives seconds later , throwing viserys away from his mother.  as he writhes , daenerys climbs on his back. rhaegal and rhaena follow after them.

drogon carries her to driftmark.  there the dragons rest and refuse to carry daenerys back.  she finds refuge with house velaryon and they pledge their loyalty to her.  they offer her passage back to dragonstone on boat and her dragons follow days later.  viserys is quiet around her.  

it takes nearly a month to ready their troops for battle.  much like the battle of blackwater bay , they board their troops on the ships and sail for kings landing.  daenerys is atop drogon as viserys commands from further away.  with house stark , martell , tyrell , and driftmark in alliance , it is an easy battle.  

cersei and jaime lannister had supposedly fled before the battle. lion banners and sigils are torn down and replaced with the three-headed dragons.  the skulls from viserys’ youth are returned to the throne room and her brother takes his seat on the throne. 

with his permission to leave , she , her dragons , and a majority of her troops head back to dragonstone.  she rules the small island for a handful of months before viserys calls her back.  he’s grown much more paranoid in only a few months.  though they have powerful allies , he feels as though they’re going to attack him.  

viserys has fallen back on his promises ; previousy pledging the north as an independent nation , but instead made robb stark hand of the king.  he’s also holding hostage most of the daughters from the major houses and assignes them as ladysmaids to daenerys.  

anger grows towards the mad targaryen king and some turn their eyes to daenerys to take the crown.  these things are spoken of in private , however , and daenerys is unsure.  she knows how horrible her brother is for the realm , but on the other hand , he is the only family she has left.

[unholystarcrown]

16: Confess Your Sins

Now also available on AO3!

This is for @/stychu-stych COTL-Tober.

Thank you for reading.

"It is a... interesting sight to see you, of all the people here, to come for confessions."

Narinder kept his mouth closed as the one separated from him spoke, keeping his gaze away from the dark veil that restricted sight of the being above him in status. He was having... doubts, as of late. Even urges that he seemed to not rip from his head. He felt weak to come to the booth, feeling miserable to rely on such a being that was the leader of a seemingly innocent community.

Yet she, the Reverend Mother, gave him comfort to his struggles with her soft words.

"You know why. It is the same. My thoughts plague me, and I yet to find answers."

Narinder heard her laugh lightly, his three tails flickering to his unamused aura.

"Forgive me, dear High Priest. I do not mean to laugh at you. But I can't help that someone like you, with power of yours still at its prime, come to me for solutions then yourself."

The mixed eldritch cat only scoffed, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his seat. Narinder wasn't one to truly confess. Only to speak in riddles to make the other work harder to give him what he wants. But now, it seemed the only person he trusts is using his own tactic against him.

Not that he minded in a sense.

"I served prisoned solitude of crimes I wouldn't think committing. Chained to my own domain out of the paranoia of the ones I once called family. But you... your words, your comfort. It heals wounds that my heart in seconds."

Narinder moved closer to the wall that separated himself from her, a hand to the wooden structure and the stained glass.

"I trust you. Aid me, as I had aided you before."

He heard her sigh. That was hopeful.

"Your persistence makes me smile, dear. So for another lifetime in this soul, I will aid you."

Narinder could only softly smile to himself.

"Thank you, my wife."

[its-pathetic-dream-blog]

Daenerys suffered an abortion in A dance with dragons? Can she get pregnant? 

At the end of A Dance with Dragons, in the last chapter of Daenerys, she appears ill and bleeding, she concludes that the bleeding was due to menstruation, but then she tries to remember when she last bled and understands that she had been doing some time .

"She was bleeding, but it was only woman's blood. The moon is still a crescent, though. How can that be? She tried to remember the last time she had bled. The last full moon? The one before? The one before that? No, it cannot have been so long as that." - A Dance with Dragons

If she had bled at the normal time she would not try so hard to remember the last time she had menstruated. We know that Mirri Maz Durr gave birth to Dany and the baby was dead and looked monstrous 

The knight was a powerful man, yet Dany understood in that moment that the maegi was stronger, and crueler, and infinitely more dangerous. “Twisted. I drew him forth myself . He was scaled like a lizard, blind, with the stub of a tail and small leather wings like the wings of a bat. When I touched him, the flesh sloughed off the bone, and inside he was full of graveworms and the stink of corruption. He had been dead for years.” 

After this she assured that Daenerys could not have more children and when Daenerys questioned when Drogo would return Mirri answered .

"When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east," said Mirri Maz Duur, "When the seas go dry and the mountains blow in the wind like leaves. When  your womb quickens again, and you bear a living child. Then he will return, and not before.

We may simply suppose instead of saying "never" Mirri gave a spell and said it, but we are talking about Daenerys, a character who is surrounded by magic, prophecies and visions, so Mirri's speech could mean a curse that could be broken.

The idea of being the last of the line left Daenerys sad, for all her conquests were to be continued by others who were not of her blood, and the very idea of no longer having children left a sense of emptiness and incompleteness in Daenerys who wanted to be a mother . 

"She felt very lonely all of a sudden. Mirri Maz Duur had promised that she would never bear a living child. House Targaryen will end with me. That made her sad."  - Daenerys - A Storm of Swords

For many people, after the events in A Dance with Dragons where Daenerys, in the last chapter, finds herself sick and alone in the great sea of grass Dothraki the curse would have been broken. Daenerys's womb would be able to produce a living child, but due to the circumstances of famine, poor eating, and contaminated drinking water, Daenerys ended up suffering a miscarriage, but in any case being able to have children would prevent the Targaryen extinct . Analyzing line by line the speech of Mirri we have:

"When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east," 

 Quentyn Martell, son of Doran Martell, was assigned to go to Meereen to propose a wedding ring with Dany in exchange for Dorne's support for her to conquer the iron throne, Daenerys did not accept the request, as she would marry Hizdarh zo Loraq in the Quentyn decided to try to tame one of the trapped dragoons by hiding with his men in the dragon pit, Quentyn did not want to go home with his hands shaking, but ended up being burned dead by one of them.

The importance of all this is that the symbol of the Martell house is a sun pierced by a spear, Quentyn Martell was born in Westeros and died in Meereen, the sun was born in the West and died in the East.

“When the seas go dry" 

 The Sea of Dothraki grass is drying and dying, here is the stretch of Daenerys walking on it in Dance with Dragons.

"Though she walked through a green kingdom, it was not the deep rich green of summer. Even here autumn made its presence felt, and winter would not be far behind. The grass was paler than she remembered, a wan and sickly green on the verge of going yellow. After that would come brown. The grass was dying."

"and the mountains blow in the wind like leaves."

 The Pyramids of Meereen are being destroyed by the dragoons that were released by Quentyn Martell and the ashes were scattered everywhere by the wind, it is also noted that Quentyn and his companions who freed the dragons infiltrated the Mercenary Company 'Windblown' "When  your womb quickens again, and you bear a living child" Daenerys bleeding may indicate that she was fertile again and was pregnant.

"As she splashed her face, she saw fresh blood on her thighs. The ragged hem of her under-tunic was stained with it. The sight of so much red frightened her. Moon blood, it’s only my moon blood , but she did not remember ever having such a heavy flow."

"Then he (Drogo) will return, and not before"

 Daenerys finds Khal Jhaqo's Khalaasar, of course physically Drogo does not return, his body turned to ashes, but the symbolism in Mirri's speech and in such a 'curse' is perhaps indicative of Daenerys being able to replace Drogo by height, as the great leader of the Khalaasar , the Dothrakis follow the strongest and Daenerys's mount is Drogon, she can prove her strength before them and finally take revenge on Mago and Khal Jhaqo for what they did with Eroeh.

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

"It was a cruel fate," Dany said, "yet not so cruel as Mago's will be. I promise you that, by the old gods and the new, by the lamb god and the horse god and every god that lives. I swear it by the Mother of Mountains and the Womb of the World. Before I am done with them, Mago and Ko Jhaqo will plead for the mercy they showed Eroeh." The Dothrakis exchanged insecure stares. "Khaleesi," explained Aia Irri, as if she were talking to a child."Khaleesi, Jhaqo is khal now, with twenty thousand riders at his back.

She lifted her head. "And I am Daenerys Stormborn, Daenerys of House Targaryen, of the blood of Aegon the Conqueror and Maegor the Cruel and old Valyria before them. I am the dragon's daughter, and I swear to you, these men will die screaming."

[aboveallarescuer]

How Dany assesses the counsel she receives and makes her own choices - The way from the Red Waste to Vaes Tolorro

This will be a series of posts meant to show that Dany is open to receiving advice and criticism, but that she doesn’t act solely based on what other people tell her to do. On the opposite, GRRM makes great effort to write a Dany who most often merges different viewpoints and/or finds her own solutions to the problems she’s facing. I won’t include every single decision she ever made (e.g. her decisions at court are often made without counsel and her execution of the ritual to hatch the dragon eggs was already exhaustively and deftly analyzed by other people), but there will be plenty of instances in this series that will prove my point nonetheless. The metas will always have four items: in which chapters the events mentioned take place; what advice she receives and from whom; what were her actions; the verdict (whether she followed other people’s advice, ignored/rejected them or did both at the same time).

Chapter (s):

ACOK Daenerys I

The advice Dany receives:

Jorah and Rakharo advise Dany to avoid any route that any other khal took.

Jorah says that, while it's uncertain that they will survive by moving forward through the Red Waste, it's certain that they will die if they try to go back.

Jhiqui and Irri advise Dany to not enter the city because of the evil ghosts that inhabit it.

 Dany's actions:

As I said in my meta about the relationship between Dany and the prophecies, Dany thinks it's best to follow the comet both because it's her only viable alternative and because there would only be despair left if she didn't believe that it meant something. As she lays out, all the other paths would compromise her small group:

She dare not turn north onto the vast ocean of grass they called the Dothraki sea. The first khalasar they met would swallow up her ragged band, slaying the warriors and slaving the rest. The lands of the Lamb Men south of the river were likewise closed to them. They were too few to defend themselves even against that unwarlike folk, and the Lhazareen had small reason to love them. (ACOK Daenerys I)

By the way, it's noteworthy that Dany was able to assess her situation and think of all these implications on her own. And I do believe she did it on her own, considering that the author explicitly recognizes when the ideas come from other people:

She might have struck downriver for the ports at Meereen and Yunkai and Astapor, but Rakharo warned her that Pono’s khalasar had ridden that way, driving thousands of captives before them to sell in the flesh marts that festered like open sores on the shores of Slaver’s Bay.

“Why should I fear Pono?” Dany objected. “He was Drogo’s ko, and always spoke me gently.” 

“Ko Pono spoke you gently,” Ser Jorah Mormont said. “Khal Pono will kill you.[”] (ACOK Daenerys I)

And this leads us to an interesting exchange between Dany and Jorah. As I said before, there are lots of instances to infer that she says things she does not necessarily believe in to obtain his respect, and this is one of them. First, he says that she and her hundred warriors won't stand a chance against Pono's ten thousand warriors. In her mind, Dany is quite conscious of her vulnerabilities, for she knows she doesn't even have a hundred warriors:

No, Dany thought. I have four. The rest are women, old sick men and boys whose hair has never been braided.

But instead of revealing these insecurities, Dany declares:

“I have the dragons,” she pointed out.

Which then leads Jorah to reply that they won't help her that much, since they are still hatchlings; in fact, they may be liabilities at this point since everyone will want to possess them. Dany fiercely says that they are hers and no one will take them from her while she lives. She is putting on a facade here, and admirably so. As the last Targaryen, khaleesi and now Mother of Dragons (as they started to call her), she is their leader and the one who must organize them to work towards a single purpose. To be in that position means being firm and reliable when no one else could be:

“We follow the comet,” Dany told her khalasar. Once it was said, no word was raised against it. They had been Drogo’s people, but they were hers now. The Unburnt, they called her, and Mother of Dragons. Her word was their law.

~

They are not strong, she told herself, so I must be their strength. I must show no fear, no weakness, no doubt. However frightened my heart, when they look upon my face they must see only Drogo’s queen. She felt older than her fourteen years. If ever she had truly been a girl, that time was done. 

~

Dany kissed him lightly on the cheek. It heartened her to see him smile. I must be strong for him as well, she thought grimly. A knight he may be, but I am the blood of the dragon. 

Like I said before, while Viserys used the expression "the blood of the dragon" to be ostentatious and coerce others into doing whatever he wanted, Dany reclaims it to restrain her emotions so she can be the kind of leader who "belongs to her people, not herself". The use of that phrase is also reminiscent of her duty not being only towards the living, but also the dead, whom she doesn't fail to mention:

Her father had been slain before she was born, and her splendid brother Rhaegar as well. Her mother had died bringing her into the world while the storm screamed outside. Gentle Ser Willem Darry, who must have loved her after a fashion, had been taken by a wasting sickness when she was very young. Her brother Viserys, Khal Drogo who was her sun-and-stars, even her unborn son, the gods had claimed them all. They will not have my dragons, Dany vowed. They will not. (ACOK Daenerys II)

Dany is being very protective of her dragons for two reasons:

She loves them as she would love her human children and considers them family.

They are also the means for her to successfully claim her father's throne. Only then she will honor all of these people that the gods claimed. That is also why she won't admit defeat in Qarth when all hope seems lost - she has the dragons and a shot at doing justice for her ancestors and carrying out their legacy, so she will not look back and be lost.

Because Dany's leadership style is rooted in empathy and accountability, she never takes advantage of her position:

Dany hungered and thirsted with the rest of them. The milk in her breasts dried up, her nipples cracked and bled, and the flesh fell away from her day by day until she was lean and hard as a stick[.]

Another leader might have taken most of the food or water for themselves, but that's not what Dany chooses to do. She "must know the sufferings of her people", after all, even more so when she is unable to help them the way she wished she could. The trauma of seeing so many of her people perish will later inform her attempts to bring peace (untenable as it was) as quickly as possible to Meereen in ASOS and ADWD.

Wine gave out first, and soon thereafter the clotted mare’s milk the horselords loved better than mead. Then their stores of flatbread and dried meat were exhausted as well. Their hunters found no game, and only the flesh of their dead horses filled their bellies. Death followed death. Weak children, wrinkled old women, the sick and the stupid and the heedless, the cruel land claimed them all. Doreah grew gaunt and hollow-eyed, and her soft golden hair turned brittle as straw.

~

[H]er khalasar withered and died. Around them the land turned ever more desolate. Even devilgrass grew scant; horses dropped in their tracks, leaving so few that some of her people must trudge along on foot.

~

Dany looked at the horizon with despair. They had lost a third of their number, and still the waste stretched before them, bleak and red and endless.

Even here, Dany does the best she can to alleviate their pain. She respects and follows their customs:

Three days into the march, the first man died. A toothless oldster with cloudy blue eyes, he fell exhausted from his saddle and could not rise again. An hour later he was done. [...] Dany bid them kill the weakest of their dying horses, so the dead man might go mounted into the night lands.

~

Two nights later, it was an infant girl who perished. Her mother’s anguished wailing lasted all day, but there was nothing to be done. The child had been too young to ride, poor thing. Not for her the endless black grasses of the night lands; she must be born again. 

She also feels a lot of gratitude for Doreah and strives to make her death a little less agonizing:

Doreah took a fever and grew worse with every league they crossed. Her lips and hands broke with blood blisters, her hair came out in clumps, and one evenfall she lacked the strength to mount her horse. Jhogo said they must leave her or bind her to her saddle, but Dany remembered a night on the Dothraki sea, when the Lysene girl had taught her secrets so that Drogo might love her more. She gave Doreah water from her own skin, cooled her brow with a damp cloth, and held her hand until she died, shivering. Only then would she permit the khalasar to press on. 

Later in ADWD, during a feast where people start bringing up the names of the combatants in the upcoming duels at Daznak's Pit, Dany feels complicit in their imminent deaths. She remembers Doreah as an example of someone who died under her protection. More than that: in Dany's mind, Doreah is proof that "[n]o queen has clean hands" because that's how guilty Dany feels about what happened:

Much of the talk about the table was of the matches to be fought upon the morrow. Barsena Blackhair was going to face a boar, his tusks against her dagger. Khrazz was fighting, as was the Spotted Cat. And in the day's final pairing, Goghor the Giant would go against Belaquo Bonebreaker. One would be dead before the sun went down. No queen has clean hands, Dany told herself. She thought of Doreah, of Quaro, of Eroeh … of a little girl she had never met, whose name had been Hazzea. (ADWD Daenerys VIII)

I want to cry.

Also, even if in vain, Dany's proactive (though failed) efforts to find resources in the Red Waste should not be overlooked, for it's still admirable that she took them without anyone even suggesting:

Dany sent outriders ranging ahead of the column, but they found neither wells nor springs, only bitter pools, shallow and stagnant, shrinking in the hot sun.

And neither should Dany's discovery of how to feed the dragons. While Viserys gave her the knowledge, she was the one who retained it in her memory, guessed that it might work and applied it:

Such little things, she thought as she fed them by hand, or rather, tried to feed them, for the dragons would not eat. They would hiss and spit at each bloody morsel of horsemeat, steam rising from their nostrils, yet they would not take the food ... until Dany recalled something Viserys had told her when they were children. 

Only dragons and men eat cooked meat, he had said.

When she had her handmaids char the horsemeat black, the dragons ripped at it eagerly, their heads striking like snakes. 

Eventually, Dany and her khalasar arrive at the abandoned city that would later be named Vaes Tolorro. She is the one who takes precautions at first:

They made camp before the remnants of a gutted palace, on a windswept plaza where devilgrass grew between the paving stones. Dany sent out men to search the ruins. Some went reluctantly, yet they went ...

But then, after finding out that the place has figs, fruit trees, vines and water, she decides to enter it, stay, rest and be practical rather than leave it because of superstitions:

... and one scarred old man returned a brief time later, hopping and grinning, his hands overflowing with figs. Other searchers returned with tales of other fruit trees, hidden behind closed doors in secret gardens. Aggo showed her a courtyard overgrown with twisting vines and tiny green grapes, and Jhogo discovered a well where the water was pure and cold. Yet they found bones too, the skulls of the unburied dead, bleached and broken. “Ghosts,” Irri muttered. “Terrible ghosts. We must not stay here, Khaleesi, this is their place.”

“I fear no ghosts. Dragons are more powerful than ghosts.” And figs are more important.

She takes note of the resources available to her ("food and water here to sustain them, and enough grass for the horses to regain their strength") and gets her people to work on the different tasks she finds for them:

Dany gave him charge of a dozen of her strongest men, and set them to pulling up the plaza to get to the earth beneath. If devilgrass could grow between the paving stones, other grasses would grow when the stones were gone. They had wells enough, no lack of water. Given seed, they could make the plaza bloom.

~

Dany thanked him and told him to see to the repair of the gates. If enemies had crossed the waste to destroy these cities in ancient days, they might well come again. “If so, we must be ready,” she declared.

In these two cases, we have explicit cases of Dany concocting ideas to improve Vaes Tolorro's facility, namely by improving its lawn and fortifying it. Not only that, but we also find out that, under Dany's leadership, her whole khalasar is now taking action and making the place better in the ways they can help:

Women harvested fruit from the gardens of the dead. Men groomed their mounts and mended saddles, stirrups, and shoes. Children wandered the twisty alleys and found old bronze coins and bits of purple glass and stone flagons with handles carved like snakes. One woman was stung by a red scorpion, but hers was the only death. The horses began to put on some flesh. Dany tended Ser Jorah’s wound herself, and it began to heal.

This is all great setup for when Dany becomes Queen of Meereen and handles large-scale projects to improve the city's economy and infrastructure.

However, even though Dany thinks it "pleasant" to stay in Vaes Tolorro, she's aware that she must eventually leave, and she doesn't want to do so without being fairly sure of where she's going. With that in mind, she makes the clever decision to send her bloodriders in different directions so that, hopefully, one might find a path that's not as arduous as the one they had to face:

The next morn, she summoned her bloodriders. “Blood of my blood,” she told the three of them, “I have need of you. Each of you is to choose three horses, the hardiest and healthiest that remain to us. Load as much water and food as your mounts can bear, and ride forth for me. Aggo shall strike southwest, Rakharo due south. Jhogo, you are to follow shierak qiya on southeast.”

“What shall we seek, Khaleesi?” asked Jhogo.

“Whatever there is,” Dany answered. “Seek for other cities, living and dead. Seek for caravans and people. Seek for rivers and lakes and the great salt sea. Find how far this waste extends before us, and what lies on the other side. When I leave this place, I do not mean to strike out blind again. I will know where I am bound, and how best to get there.”

And this decision pays off when Jhogo returns with the three strangers who will guide Dany to Qarth.

Aside from the beginning when Dany ponders which direction to take, neither Ser Jorah nor her bloodriders are ever mentioned as part of Dany's decisionmaking. Instead, GRRM takes pain to make Dany's reasoning and actions her own, while also showcasing her selfless nature. ACOK Daenerys I is a chapter that highlights the authorial intent to portray Daenerys Targaryen as an intelligent, capable and principled leader.

 Verdict:

From the Red Waste to Vaes Tolorro, Jorah and Rakharo advise Dany about where not to go (though it must be said that she had already made most of the assessment on her own). Besides that, every single action that Dany takes is of her own volition and without the influence of anyone's help. She:

Exhibits emotional intelligence by acting as a leader who drives her group.

Tries to find resources in the Red Waste. 

Attempts to ease the khalasar's pain by taking part in their customs and giving Doreah a less painful death.

Decides to remain in Vaes Tolorro despite superstitions.

Takes note of the resources that she has in her disposal.

Gives her people several different tasks to improve the city; thanks to her guidance, some possibly started to do different activities on their own.

Sends her bloodriders in different directions to find one that isn't as taxing as the previous one.

[occupyvenus]

How sweet is sweetness really?

“A blue flower grew from a chink in a wall of ice, and filled the air with sweetness “ Prove for Jon and Dany’s epic romance. Because Grrm himself also had Lyanna say “Love is a sweet thing Dear Ned”. I mean, not really. The actual quote is "Love is sweet, dearest Ned.” and the complete quote actually is "Love is sweet, dearest Ned, but it cannot change a man's nature." but I’m sure that omission wasn’t done on purpose. But it got me thinking and I decided to also look up some quotes by Grrm, not from a completely unrelated POV but by looking at Dany’s chapters herself. At all the times that sweet smells or tastes show up in her chapter (since a flower filling the air with sweetness is mostly connected to that specific sensory meaning of “sweetness” instead of the more metaphorical ones), in what context they occur and with what they are associated with. 

To get some “data” out of this, I’ll give points everytime a sweet smell or taste shows up: -2 if it is has explicit negative associations, -1 if it is rather negative and/or not directly related to a specific occurence, 0 if it’s neutral, ambiguous or negligible, +1 if it is rather positive and +2 if is definitely positive. Since these things are often open to interpretation I’ll keep two scores: the forgiving one and the merciless one when I think it isn’t clear. Don’t take it too seriously though, this is mostly meant to portray a certain pattern when it comes to this. 

Let’s dive into this, shall we? 

She remembered Ser Willem dimly, a great grey bear of a man, half-blind, roaring and bellowing orders from his sickbed. The servants had lived in terror of him, but he had always been kind to Dany. He called her "Little Princess" and sometimes "My Lady," and his hands were soft as old leather. He never left his bed, though, and the smell of sickness clung to him day and night, a hot, moist, sickly sweet odor.

[....]

Inside the manse, the air was heavy with the scent of spices, pinchfire and sweet lemon and cinnamon. They were escorted across the entry hall, where a mosaic of colored glass depicted the Doom of Valyria.

A Game of Thrones - Daenerys I

The smell of the sickness that killed the only man who ever really cared for her and that forced her out of the home with the red door. -2 points

And sweet smells during the feast when she is sold to Drogo. Let’s give this 0 / -1 point. Being sold like a broodmare isn’t a positive thing, but the smell of sweet lemon isn’t directly associated with it and rather small detail. 

She had never seen so many people in one place, nor people so strange and frightening. The horselords might put on rich fabrics and sweet perfumes when they visited the Free Cities, but out under the open sky they kept the old ways. Men and women alike wore painted leather vests over bare chests and horsehair leggings cinched by bronze medallion belts, and the warriors greased their long braids with fat from the rendering pits.

A Game of Thrones - Daenerys II

I would be inclined to give this -1 point since it’s the first instance of sweet smells being used to cover up the truth (something that will come up several more times) but I will give 0 points to the forgiving score. 

As Irri and Jhiqui helped her from her litter, she sniffed, and recognized the sharp odors of garlic and pepper, scents that reminded Dany of days long gone in the alleys of Tyrosh and Myr and brought a fond smile to her face. Under that she smelled the heady sweet perfumes of Lys. She saw slaves carrying bolts of intricate Myrish lace and fine wools in a dozen rich colors.

[...]

Turning a corner, they came upon a wine merchant offering thimble-sized cups of his wares to the passersby. "Sweet reds," he cried in fluent Dothraki, "I have sweet reds, from Lys and Volantis and the Arbor. Whites from Lys, Tyroshi pear brandy, firewine, pepperwine, the pale green nectars of Myr. Smokeberry browns and Andalish sours, I have them, I have them." He was a small man, slender and handsome, his flaxen hair curled and perfumed after the fashion of Lys. When Dany paused before his stall, he bowed low. "A taste for the khaleesi? I have a sweet red from Dorne, my lady, it sings of plums and cherries and rich dark oak. A cask, a cup, a swallow? One taste, and you will name your child after me."

[...]

Ser Jorah lifted a cup and sniffed at the wine, frowning.

"Sweet, isn't it?" the wineseller said, smiling. "Can you smell the fruit, ser? The perfume of the Arbor. Taste it, my lord, and tell me it isn't the finest, richest wine that's ever touched your tongue."

Ser Jorah offered him the cup. "You taste it first."

A Game of Thrones - Daenerys VI

Well, well, sweet poisoned wine. Let’s give 0 / -1 points for sweet smells in the market, -1 for the wineseller promoting all his sweet wines and luring Dany into his trap and another -2 for the “Sweet, isn’t it?”. I think that’s fair. 

The plaster had caked hard as the mud walls of the Lamb Men, and like those walls it cracked easily. Ser Jorah broke the dry mud with his knife, pried the chunks from the flesh, peeled off the leaves one by one. A foul, sweet smell rose from the wound, so thick it almost choked her. The leaves were crusted with blood and pus, Drogo's breast black and glistening with corruption.

A Game of Thrones - Daenerys VIII

-2 points. 

"Drink," she said, lifting Dany's head to the cup once more, but this time it was only wine. Sweet, sweet wine. Dany drank, and lay back, listening to the soft sound of her own breathing. She could feel the heaviness in her limbs, as sleep crept in to fill her up once more. "

Bring me …" she murmured, her voice slurred and drowsy. "Bring … I want to hold …"

A Game of Thrones - Daenerys IX

Hhhmmm... the context of this definitely isn’t nice. MMD has just finished her blood ritual, the Khalasar left, Drogo was zombified and Dany has just lost her unborn child. The wine itself however isn’t perceived as negative by Dany. I would say 0 / -1 is a good compromise. 

She climbed the pyre herself to place the eggs around her sun-and-stars. The black beside his heart, under his arm. The green beside his head, his braid coiled around it. The cream-and-gold down between his legs. When she kissed him for the last time, Dany could taste the sweetness of the oil on his lips.

A Game of Thrones - Daenerys X

Dany kissing Drogo on his funeral pyre. Funerals and her dead first love.  -1 I would say.

"I've brought you a peach," Ser Jorah said, kneeling. It was so small she could almost hide it in her palm, and overripe too, but when she took the first bite, the flesh was so sweet she almost cried. She ate it slowly, savoring every mouthful, while Ser Jorah told her of the tree it had been plucked from, in a garden near the western wall.

A Clash of Kings - Daenerys I

Let’s give this positive 2 points. It would take too long for me to explain why I think it might not deserve positive points at all so let’s just take this on at face value. For both scores (it won’t matter much anyway).

"Why should she need your Palace of Dust, when I can give her sunlight and sweet water and silks to sleep in?" Xaro said to the warlock. "The Thirteen shall set a crown of black jade and fire opals upon her lovely head."

[...]

"—pretends to power," the knight said brusquely. On his dark green surcoat, the bear of House Mormont stood on its hind legs, black and fierce. Jorah looked no less ferocious as he scowled at the crowd that filled the bazaar. "I would not linger here long, my queen. I mislike the very smell of this place."Dany smiled. 

"Perhaps it's the camels you're smelling. The Qartheen themselves seem sweet enough to my nose."

"Sweet smells are sometimes used to cover foul ones."

A Clash of Kings - Daenerys II

Dany gets a lesson in how sweet smells are sometimes used to cover fouler ones.... - 2 points. As for Xaro’s promise of “sweet water”, I will go with 0 / -1. It isn’t explicitly negative but Xaro is just using his sweet promises to exploit Dany. 

Her silver was trotting through the grass, to a darkling stream beneath a sea of stars. A corpse stood at the prow of a ship, eyes bright in his dead face, grey lips smiling sadly. A blue flower grew from a chink in a wall of ice, and filled the air with sweetness. . . . mother of dragons, bride of fire . . .

A Clash of Kings - Daenerys IV

Since this is the debated topic here it won’t influence the score. (But may I mention that this follows shortly after Jorah drops some truthbombs about sweet smells and how they are sometimes used to cover fouler ones?) 

Dany had no need to count his scars; there were many, she could see at a glance. "And why are you here, Strong Belwas?"

"From Meereen I am sold to Qohor, and then to Pentos and the fat man with sweet stink in his hair. He it was who send Strong Belwas back across the sea, and old Whitebeard to serve him."

The fat man with sweet stink in his hair . . . "Illyrio?" she said. "You were sent by Magister Illyrio?"

A Clash of Kings - Daenerys V

This is a hard one. I would say 0 because while it is Illyrio offering Dany help, we do know that he never cared about her wellbeing and only wanted (and still wants) to use her for his own plans. But let’s just stick with 0.  

Ser Jorah stood behind her sweltering in his green surcoat with the black bear of Mormont embroidered upon it. The smell of his sweat was an earthy answer to the sweet perfumes that drenched the Astapori.

A Storm of Swords - Daenerys III

The sweet perfumes of the astapori masters? I would say -2. Not the kind of people Dany is too fond of. 

The besiegers gave him a raucous welcome as soon as he reached the camp. Her Dothraki hooted and screamed, and the Unsullied sent up a great clangor by banging their spears against their shields. "Well done," Ser Jorah told him, and Brown Ben tossed the eunuch a ripe plum and said, "A sweet fruit for a sweet fight." Even her Dothraki handmaids had words of praise. "We would braid your hair and hang a bell in it, Strong Belwas," said Jhiqui, "but you have no hair to braid."

A Storm of Swords - Daenerys V

Another difficult one. On the one hand they are celebrating a victory, on the other hand we know how all of Dany’s victories in Slaver’s Bay turned out ... it also doesn’t directly concern Dany: But, let’s give it 1 / 0. 

Daenerys held out her cup for Irri to refill. The wine was sweet and strong, redolent with the smell of eastern spices, much superior to the thin Ghiscari wines that had filled her cup of late. Xaro perused the fruits on the platter Jhiqui offered him and chose a persimmon. Its orange skin matched the color of the coral in his nose. He took a bite and pursed his lips. "Tart."

"Would my lord prefer something sweeter?"

"Sweetness cloys. Tart fruit and tart women give life its savor." Xaro took another bite, chewed, swallowed. "

[...]

I was a beggar queen and you were Xaro of the Thirteen, Dany thought, and all you wanted were my dragons. "Your slaves seemed well treated and content. It was not till Astapor that my eyes were opened. Do you know how Unsullied are made and trained?"

"Cruelly, I have no doubt. When a smith makes a sword, he thrusts the blade into the fire, beats on it with a hammer, then plunges it into iced water to temper the steel. If you would savor the sweet taste of the fruit, you must water the tree."

"This tree has been watered with blood."

A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys III

Another lesson about how sweetness isn’t always the bestest thing ever? Yes! Let’s give -2 points. Sweet wine making another appearance when Dany is interacting with somebody who doesn’t have her best interest in mind ... let’s say 0 / -1. Xaro’s sugarcoating the Unsullieds treatment is another instance of “sweetness” covering up a truth, but I would still give it 0 points. We shouldn’t take this too far. 

He is going to make a sortie, Dany realized, and if he takes Ben Plumm's head, he'll walk into the wedding feast and throw it at my feet. Seven save me. Why couldn't he be better born? 

 When he was gone, Missandei brought the queen a simple meal of goat cheese and olives, with raisins for a sweet. "Your Grace needs more than wine to break her fast. You are such a tiny thing, and you will surely need your strength today."

That made Daenerys laugh, coming from a girl so small. She relied so much on the little scribe that she oft forgot that Missandei had only turned eleven. They shared the food together on her terrace. As Dany nibbled on an olive, the Naathi girl gazed at her with eyes like molten gold and said, "It is not too late to tell them that you have decided not to wed."

[...]

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

How did this happen, that I am drinking and smiling with men I'd sooner flay?

A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys VII

A sweet breakfast on the day of Dany’s wedding to Hizdahr, sweet wine during it. Let’s give 0 for Missandei getting breakfast and -1 point for that sweet wine always showing when Dany has to talk to people she would rather kill.  

"Locusts!" as he seized the bowl and began to crunch them by the handful.

"Those are very tasty," advised Hizdahr. "You ought to try a few yourself, my love. They are rolled in spice before the honey, so they are sweet and hot at once."

"That explains the way Belwas is sweating," Dany said. "I believe I will content myself with figs and dates."

[...]

No, she knew, they love their mortal art. When the cheers began to ebb, she allowed to herself to sit. Their box was in the shade, but her head was pounding. "Jhiqui," she called, "sweet water, if you would. My throat is very dry."

A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys IX

The poisoned locusts! Also sweet! -2 points. Dany asking for sweet water when the mortal art she hates so much begins! 0 / -1. Another instance of Dany trying to swallow the sour with some sweet. 

How sweet is sweetness then? 

Total score (forgiving): -15 Total score (merciless): -22 Total score (middleground): -18,5

Sweet smells/tastes in a  positive context (+1/+2)*: 1,5 Sweet smells/tastes in an ambiguous, neutral or negligible context (0): 6,5 Sweet smells/tastes in a negative context (-1/-2): 14

*Things that fall under different categories in the two scores will be counted as 0,5 for the respective categories. Should they only fall under one they count as 1.

Oh my, looks like “sweetness” isn’t all that sweet for Dany after all. Even looks rather bitter to me. Even the forgiving score doesn’t look particularly positive to me.Is that a negative sign in front of it? I wonder why Grrm never bothered to associate sweet smells with anything positive in her chapters. Considering that the most quoted, indisputable foreshadowing for her number one romance is so strongly associated with sweetness. 

A little additional point is that Dany is the character with the most references to sweet smells and flavours. I would assume that Grrm is implementing so much of it in her chapters to give us a clue as to what it means to Dany’s character. I think that alone warrants that we take a closer look at the associations in her POV chapter. (btw, I didn’t even include all the times when she mistrusts, is deceived or fucked over by perfumed people. I think that could also be included but since it isn’t explicitly “sweet” I decided to leave it out.)

Sweet smells and flavours make an appearance 23 times in Dany’s POV. More often than in any other main characters’: Arya(10), Bran(6), Jon (9), Sansa (14), Tyrion (24), Catelyn(7), Jaime (4), Eddard (9), Theon(5).* But to derive a bit more meaning from this we should probably look at it in relation to number of POV chapters: 

Dany: 0,74 per chapter  Arya: 0,29 per chapter | Bran: 0,29 per chapter Jon: 0,21 per chapter | Sansa: 0,58 per chapter Tyrion: 0,51 per chapter | Catelyn: 0,28 per chapter Jaime: 0,24 per chapter | Eddard: 0,6 per chapter Theon: 0,38 per chapter

*The word “sweet” shows up very, very often in the context of women. “sweet mouth”, “sweetness”, “sweet flesh”, “sweet kisses” etc. (Especially in Tyrion’s POV) I did not include those instances if they weren’t directly related to “taste”. The same goes for expressions that aren’t directly related to the smell or taste of something, eg “ lies dripping from his lips, sweet as honey“. I did however include instances where “tastes” or “smells” sweet is used in a metaphorical sense. eg “taste the sweet air of victory”. I tried to be consistent with what I included and with what I considered to be “one” reference. eg “fat man with sweet stink in his hair” was only counted once despite appearing in the text two times because it was simply a repetition. 

If you take a look at the quotes above sweetness is associated with two things: deception/distrust and illness/death. Rather negative things, wouldn’t you say? 

This is in no way unique to Dany either. Several characters include similar associations: “but many a poison was sweet as well”, “A sweet offer . . . yet sweets can be poisoned.”, “Her aunt was drenched in sweet scent, though under that was a sour milky smell.”. And: “the sweet cloying stench of death.”, “There was a smell of death about that room; a heavy smell, sweet and foul, clinging.”, but I do not see how that would turn “filled the air with sweetness” into a necessarily positive foreshadowing? Sweet smells being associated with deception (either of oneself or others) is especially prevalent in the other POV’s who are often associated with them (Sansa, Tyrion, Eddard). In the former two cases it’s often ... in the context of romantical self-deception to be more precise. But I wanted to stick to Dany’s POV here so I won’t go into that here.

So, yes, perhaps Jon will “fill the air with sweetness” once he comes into Dany’s life but looking at the prevalent, negative role that sweetness plays in her arc I wouldn’t be too surprised if it turns bitter in the end. (Especially since ... you know Jon doesn’t taste the sweetness: 

The light of the half-moon turned Val's honey-blond hair a pale silver and left her cheeks as white as snow. She took a deep breath. "The air tastes sweet."

"My tongue is too numb to tell. All I can taste is cold."

A Dance with Dragons - Jon VIII

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[rreader]

can we get some more khal drogo up in here? you're such a talented writer. like i legit binged so much on here. fantastic job! could i request one where drogo encounters an equally large khalasar and defeats the other older khal. he ends up taking the eldest daughter as a bride and she is just a spitfire and doesn't like him at all until some of the members of the khalasar try to get a little rowdy with her and he shuts it down super quick and she realizes he's not that bad? thanks, dearie!! 😘

Pairing: Khal Drogo x ReaderFandom: GoT ; ASoIaFWarnings: language ; violence ; attempt of sexual assault (nothing graphic)

Summary: When Khal Drogo defeats your father in a duel, he has the choice of becoming your new Khal, or becoming your husband. He chooses marrying you.

A/N: awww, thank you sooo much my darling! I’m so glad you’re enjoying yourself! I really hope that you like this one as well. khal drogo stories are always a bit of a challenge for me, but like last time, I hope I did him credit! (also, please imagine everything spoken in Dothraki. Unfortunately, my Dothraki is non-existent, so I have to settle for English lol)

                                                        *****

Yourfather had never been a kind man. He had hurt many people in his years as a Khal.

Thankfully, henever laid a hand on you. Nevertheless, what he did to hisenemies scared you. And what he did to those who betrayed him scaredyou even more.

Andwhen one day another Khal entered your camp and challenged yourfather, you had a hard time watching the fight, knowing that yourfather wouldn’t simply ‘strike him down’ at the end of the fight, like any other Khal would..

No.. he was ruthless. He’d hurt him in ways that the other Khal couldn’t even imagine.

Yourbrother, standing next to you, had a smug grin on his face, his eyesnever leaving the two men in front of him.

He’dbe like your father one day.. unfortunately.

Andthat one second that you didn’t have your eyes on your father and theother Khal, was the second that you could hear your father scream inagony.

Theeyes of your brother widened, before he stormed towards the otherKhal and shoved him away, kneeling next to your father, the bladesticking out of his stomach.

You,unlike your brother, didn’t feel sadness, nor anger.

Theonly sadness you felt was for your little brother. For having lost his heroin front of his eyes.

Theother Khal threw up his hands triumphantly, walked up to one of thewoman of his clan and kissed her roughly, before turning his head toyou, a wicked smile on his face.

Yoursisters hid behind you, your other brother standing protectively infront of them.

Butyou only straightened your back, your hands confident behind your back.

“Congratulationsare in order.”

“You.I want you.”

You walked down the podium you had been standing on,until you were face to face with him.

“Isee. Am I your prize then?” no emotions whatsoever could be detected on your face.

“Yes.”

Younarrowed your eyes at him and then looked at your brother, stillcowering over the corpse of your father.

Hewas of age and a skilled warrior. Respected by the others. They would easily follow him if you left.

Andif you went with that other Khal, that meant that your siblings and your peoplecould stay here, on their own, without being bothered by this otherKhal or his clan.

Logically,it was the best for your people.. your family.

Personally,it wasn’t something you wanted for yourself. You might not have likedyour father, but marrying the man that killed him wasn’t exactlysomething you wanted either.

Butyou had always been one that put others before herself.

Soyou turned your head to the other Khal and nodded.

“Alright.I will come with you, if you leave my clan alone. Let my brother bethe new khalakka.”

Drogofirst looked at you, then at the young man who stared at him in return, such rage in his eyes.

Helaughed and nodded.

“Yes.”

Hehoped he’d encounter the boy again one day. He’d kill him just like hisfather.

Itwould bring him more honor than he already had.

Andso it was decided.

You’dbecome the wife of Khal Drogo.

                                                            ***

Theride back to their encampment had been long.

Youwere exhausted and just wanted to lie down and sleep for the nextdays.

Butyour husband-to-be seemed to have other ideas.

Thesecond you got off your horse, he pulled you aside to get the weddingceremony started. But it was also the second that you pulled your armout of his grip. You were both standing behind one of the tents,separated from the others of his clan. You needed to make himunderstand that you wouldn’t be the submissive wife that he probablywanted you to be… thought you would be. However, you also didn’t want to make him look badin front of his clan, so this little bit of privacy was appreciated.

“No,” you said, but he only grunted in return and wanted to grab your arm once more, but you took a stepback, “Listen to me very carefully. I don’t know what you expectedor wanted me to be, but I’m not the obedient kind of woman that let’syou fuck her every time you want to, that let’s you treat her like scumand doesn’t do anything about it. I agreed to come with you for thegood of my clan, so I will stay with you… but not as your slave.”

Fora second, Drogo thought about putting you back in your place. Butthere was this.. fire in your eyes. Fire, he hadn’t seen in a longtime and certainly not in a woman.

Womenusually cowered before him and, as you said, were the submissiveones.

Thefact that you weren’t turned him on like crazy.

Hestarted grinning, bit his lip and looked you up and down. He couldn’twait to fuck you.

He’d give you your night’s rest. Fucking you would be a lot moreenjoyable then, anyways.

“Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,”you agreed, turned around and walked away.

Youhadn’t expected it to go this smoothly. 

But only because he gave youthis one night didn’t mean that you suddenly started to like him.

Hewas still a bastard in your eyes and had to prove himself to you in other ways to earn your approval.

                                                   the next day

Youstood in his massive tent, your fingertips running along the silk ofyour dress.

Howhe managed to get you a dress like this in one day? You had no idea.

Butyou felt like a goddess, ready to take on the world.

“So..you’re going to be the next khaleesi,” a man’s voice said. When youturned around, you found four men standing in front of you, all armedto the teeth.

“Iam,” you said confidently.

Theyall eyed you like you were a horse on the market.

You’vehad experiences with men like these before.

However, most hadn’t been foolish enough to try to force themselves onto the daughterof one of the most feared Khal’s of the region. And if they were..well.. let’s just say your father always made good examples out of those who disrespected his children.

“Maybewe should see if you’re worthy for our great Khal. Wouldn’t want himto be disappointed, after all.”

Theydidn’t even have the chance to approach you, when Drogo entered thetent, two men behind him, hair almost as long as his own.

Youcocked your head to the side, waited for what would happen next.

Drogodidn’t say a word. He only grunted in anger, which made all of themen jump in surprise and turn around instantly.

“KhalDrogo!”

Hegrabbed his dagger from his belt, turned the man around so he wasfacing you and slit his throat, all the while looking at you.

Youdidn’t flinch, didn’t blink. You watched the first man bleed out infront of you, then the next, until they were all dead on the floor. And not once had you looked away.

Oh, he had definitely found the right woman.

ThenDrogo walked outside again.

“I’llslaughter everyone who dares to touch her,” he screamed, blood allover his chest and face.

Andwhen he walked back inside, his men already dragging out the corpses, youslowly walked up to him and put your hands on his cheeks.

Wordswere meaningless. Gestures, on the other hand..

Youput your lips on his, his tongue finding its’ way into yourmouth in a heartbeat, his arms wrapping around your waist, holding you tight against his body.

Theblood was now getting all over your dress and probably also yourface, but you always knew that, if you ever became a khaleesi, youwouldn’t be one of those silent lambs that were only good forfucking. You’d be more like your mother.

Fierce,a warrior herself, never backing down from a fight.. ruthless, if shehad to be. Kind, if she could.

You’dbe the wife that Drogo never expected or probably wanted to have, butwas still grateful for.

Becausewith you by his side, he would do things he hadn’t thought possible.

You’dgive him the strength, once your bond was unbreakable.

AndDrogo wasn’t the husband that you’d thought you’d end up with, but hejust proved to you that, while you initially weren’t too happy aboutthis marriage, he wasn’t as bad as you thought he was..

Perhapsyou might even grow to love him one day..

[yenneferdivengerberg]

Daenerys Targaryen in Game of Thrones 2.01: “The North Remembers"

➼The Dothraki named the comet shierak qiya, the Bleeding Star. The old men muttered that it omened ill, but Daenerys Targaryen had seen it first on the night she had burned Khal Drogo, the night her dragons had awakened. It is the herald of my coming, she told herself as she gazed up into the night sky with wonder in her heart. The gods have sent it to show me the way. Yet when she put the thought into words, her handmaid Doreah quailed. “That way lies the red lands, Khaleesi. A grim place and terrible, the riders say.” “The way the comet points is the way we must go,” Dany insisted... though in truth, it was the only way open to her. She dare not turn north onto the vast ocean of grass they called the Dothraki sea. The first khalasar they met would swallow up her ragged band, slaying the warriors and slaving the rest. The lands of the Lamb Men south of the river were likewise closed to them. They were too few to defend themselves even against that unwarlike folk, and the Lhazareen had small reason to love them. She might have struck downriver for the ports at Meereen and Yunkai and Astapor, but Rakharo warned her that Pono’s khalasar had ridden that way, driving thousands of captives before them to sell in the flesh marts that festered like open sores on the shores of Slaver’s Bay. “Why should I fear Pono?” Dany objected. “He was Drogo’s ko, and always spoke me gently.” “Ko Pono spoke you gently,” Ser Jorah Mormont said. “Khal Pono will kill you. He was the first to abandon Drogo. Ten thousand warriors went with him. You have a hundred.” No, Dany thought. I have four. The rest are women, old sick men and boys whose hair has never been braided. “I have the dragons,” she pointed out. “Hatchlings,” Ser Jorah said. “One swipe from an arakh would put an end to them, though Pono is more like to seize them for himself. Your dragon eggs were more precious than rubies. A living dragon is beyond price. In all the world, there are only three. Every man who sees them will want them, my queen.” “They are mine,” she said fiercely. They had been born from her faith and her need, given life by the deaths of her husband and unborn son and the maegi Mirri Maz Duur. Dany had walked into the flames as they came forth, and they had drunk milk from her swollen breasts. “No man will take them from me while I live.” “You will not live long should you meet Khal Pono. Nor Khal Jhaqo, nor any of the others. You must go where they do not.” Dany had named him the first of her Queensguard... and when Mormont’s gruff counsel and the omens agreed, her course was clear. She called her people together and mounted her silver mare. Her hair had burned away in Drogo’s pyre, so her handmaids garbed her in the skin of the hrakkar Drogo had slain, the white lion of the Dothraki sea. Its fearsome head made a hood to cover her naked scalp, its pelt a cloak that flowed across her shoulders and down her back. The cream-colored dragon sunk sharp black claws into the lion’s mane and coiled its tail around her arm, while Ser Jorah took his accustomed place by her side. “We follow the comet,” Dany told her khalasar. Once it was said, no word was raised against it. They had been Drogo’s people, but they were hers now. The Unburnt, they called her, and Mother of Dragons. Her word was their law. The dragons were no larger than the scrawny cats she had once seen skulking along the walls of Magister Illyrio’s estate in Pentos... until they unfolded their wings. Their span was three times their length, each wing a delicate fan of translucent skin, gorgeously colored, stretched taut between long thin bones. When you looked hard, you could see that most of their body was neck, tail, and wing. Such little things, she thought as she fed them by hand, or rather, tried to feed them, for the dragons would not eat. They would hiss and spit at each bloody morsel of horsemeat, steam rising from their nostrils, yet they would not take the food... until Dany recalled something Viserys had told her when they were children. Only dragons and men eat cooked meat, he had said.