#plenty of people come out of trauma with negative attributes

[thresholdbb]

I'm a Kai Winn apologist but not because I think she's a good person. She's a compelling tragic character

[frosteee]

Re-reading Junji Ito's awesome adaption of Frankenstein got me thinking about the Creature again, particularly his request for a female monster from his creator.

When I first read the story, waaay back, I felt sympathy for the Creature wanting a partner like most people do, and angry at Victor for destroying the female creature and the Creature's hopes with it.

But re-reading the scene - from the original novel - I see it differently. While you can still understand the Creature's position (all alone in the world, feared and hated because of his appearance), his belief that having a partner would magically make him both happy and harmless is naïve, toxic and, ultimately, doomed for failure.

Naïve

I think this can be partly attributed to his creation/nature. He was shunned at birth and left to figure out his own origins and mull existential questions on his own - and the answers were terrible. He had no guide or protector - that was Victor's job, and he rejected that instantly - and so was constantly trying to fill the void, like a child would. The Creature is, for all his eloquence, still an immature child in a monster's body.

Equating marriage to happiness might also be attributed to his experience with the blind man's family, where the Creature truly gained a sense of self and concept of relationships in general. He sees the positive effects the introduction of Safie has on the blind man's family, especially Felix, who loves her:

"The presence of Safie diffused happiness among its inhabitants, and I also found a greater degree of plenty reigned there."

The Creature clearly connects this experience with his vision of life with a female partner. The blind man's family were poor, but content, because of Safie, so the Creature presumes - hopes - that the same will apply to him.

Toxic

There is an enormous amount of selfishness in this request. He is demanding another being exist to be just as miserable and alone as he is, simply so that it makes him a little less so.

The Creature is actually aware of this - he says (my bold for emphasis):

"It is true that we shall be monsters, cut off from all the world; but on that account we shall be more attached to one another. Our lives will not be happy, but they will be harmless, and free from the misery I now feel."

The Creature knows what kind of life will be in store for his female companion, but his priority is his own comfort and he simply does not care. He later states "O Creator, make me happy!", contradicting his earlier statement and suggesting that while his partner will be unhappy, he will be happy with their lot in life.

Doomed to fail

He is the misery that wants company. He constantly looks to external forces to ensure his own happiness - the blind man's family, Victor, the hypothetical female creature - but has no ability, or desire, to find his own form of happiness.

Edit: Also, a union based on shared misery is HELLISH.

At this point in this story, the Creature has suffered enormous damage to his mind as well as his body. He has killed (innocent) people in blind rage. Behaviour and thoughts like that can't just flip on a dime. He has severe issues with anger, abandonment and envy, and it has escalated to murder.

He is not at peace with his own existence, and a female version of himself (which is essentially what he wants) can't give that to him. It needs to come from within.

But again, the Creature is looking for betterment in external factors. He constantly describes himself as ugly and incapable of being more than a miserable murderer because of how he looks and how he is treated, becoming his own self-fulfilling prophecy in the process.

Having a partner just as ugly as him would not make him less so. In fact, it would only serve as a constant reminder of his own ugliness and isolation from the world. Ultimately, he would still have his insecurities and identity issues. The only difference would be that he would have someone to complain with!

Speaking of the female partner - as I said before, the Creature is aware of the kind of life she would be living, but does not consider this important enough to think twice about it. His comfort and 'happiness' trump hers. He doesn't think about what the female partner think about being created purely for his satisfaction, doomed to life of loneliness and secrecy. He doesn't consider that she might, justifiably, resent the Creature like he resents Victor Frankenstein. He doesn't consider that she, as a thinking being, would simply not like him, or not like him as much as he would want her to. He doesn't consider that he might not like her either. He doesn't consider that the violent negative emotions and trauma he suffered will have long-term effects and negatively impact his partner or humanity.

To him, the female creature is simply a means to an end. Victor destroying the creature in the novel does not take away the fact that the Creature was naïve to think that having a companion would make him truly happy, and unfair to play god just as his own creator had done. There are just so many factors and issues that the Creature either ignores or deludes himself about for the female partner to have done him or the world any good.

In Junji Ito's version - as with The Bride of Frankenstein - the female creature is completed and animated, but she rejects the Creature on sight - and it goes exactly as badly as you would expect. He blames Victor for deliberately making her that way, not caring how irrational this thought process is (the Creature was an unintelligent, animalistic thing when he was first animated). He refuses to acknowledge his own unrealistic expectations and desires, pushing all responsibility onto Victor (not saying Victor doesn't share blame as well, he does) and vows vengeance.

Ultimately, in any version, the Creature simply was not equipped with the right tools, had the right mindset, or in a position to have a partner like he wanted. It was wasn't ever going to end well, and that's the tragedy of it.

[smokeybrand]

The Cape and The Cowl

A friend of mine posted a meme questioning who would win a fight between Doctor Doom and Batman. My gut reaction is to say it’s real bad for Bruce but, as i thought about it more and more, i kind of feel like its not so cut-and-dry. There is a lot of nuance that needs to be considered between the two characters rather than just a “smash the action figured together” scenario. Of course, there is the surface stuff like how would they interact generally? What would the catalyst be in order to incite said conflict? Why would Doom even see Bruce as a threat? If you think about it objectively, an all things are even, to Vic, Batman is just a crazy person losing his are on crime in a raggedy ass city. Victor von Doom is a the reagent of an entire country with a GDP that rivals some superpowers in the MCU. Like, the USA has diplomatic relations with a blip in Eastern Europe, because Doom has the military power to wreck he US in open aggression. Latveria will lose in a prolonged conflict, that’s just a question of resources, but that little country would absolutely inflict upon the US in a slow bleed. Imagine the War on Terror but with competent leadership and actual, discipline, military strategy. Why the f*ck would Doom care what the f*ck is going on out in Jersey? More than that. the similarities between the two characters is staggering.

We all know the origin of Batman. We’ve seen that sh*t how many times now? It’s like getting a new Spider-Man joint and having to watch Uncle Ben die all over again. It’s trite at this point but so essential to the character, we need a refresher every time Bats shows up onscreen. That trauma informs everything he is, as it would if you watched your parents gunned down in cold blood as a child, and then laid with their still warm corpses for however long until the police came. What a lot of people don’t know is the origin of Doctor Doom. Being a villain, Doom rarely gets his motivations explored outside of some megalomaniac Dr. No type f*ckery. However, Victor von Doom is a person. He started out life as a happy kid and learned to be Doctor Doom, just like Bruce learned to be Batman. Doom is actually a refugee. True, Doom was born an aristocrat, but Latveria was overthrown when he was still young so he was never able to be raised in that level of opulence. His mom was also murdered before he was ten years old. Just like Bruce, Doom experienced a horrific truth that would color his world perspective for the rest of his life. Doom would eventually find his way to the US as he was brilliant. Like, unheard of intelligent and it would be his exposure to the US lifestyle, after years of conflict and struggle, which would make him realize how easy life could be if someone just did what was necessary. And then Reed happened.

Reed Richards was, is, a fulcrum in Vic’s life. They have a relationship similar to Batman an Superman but the opposite. Whereas Batman values Clark’s perspective because it helps him keep perspective, Vic finds Reed to be absurd. He sees Reed for who e is and doesn’t understand why no one else can. Reed Richards is a reckless, excitable, short-sighted, glory-hog. He is. If you read the character with any semblance of realism, you’d see that. Ho many times has Sue comments on how she and the rest of his family, take a backseat to science? How many times has Reed, himself, sacrificed a relationship or to, in service to the solution of an equation? Doom saw all of that in college. Reed represents the structural issues of the world and it frustrates Vic to no end. In some continuities, the genesis of Vic going full Doom rest on an accident Reed commits because of that shortsightedness. It goes a long way to checking Reeds ego and he does become a better person for it, but it was at the cost of scarring Vic for life, both physically and mentally. Yet another example of the system, ruining Doom’s life.

Bruce, after his trauma, has kept a strong support system. First and foremost, since day one, he had Alfred. Doom had no one. Bruce then built a family, adopting all of the children and surrounding himself with love. Doom’s one true love died and was dragged down to hell. We know this because he punches out Mephisto whenever he can. Also, his mom is down there, too. Bruce eventually met Diana and Kal, becoming fast friends and life long confidants. Outside of Catwoman, I think Diana makes for the perfect romantic partner of Bruce and that is shown in several continuities. Reed just reinforced Doom’s disgust with the machinations of the world, eventually further degrading Doom’s tenuous hold of his ability to trust in others, by psychically maiming him. The negative impact Reed had on Doom’s life is f*cking profound, man. I’m not saying Doom should have taken it as far as he did, but it’s hard to argue against trying to kill a dude who had ruined years of your work, destroyed you reputation, and physically maimed you forever. That doesn’t seem wholly outrageous to me. I think it’s called justifiable homicide? The only reason Doom stopped trying to murder Reed is because Valeria was born. Valeria became the first person Doom felt real affection for, since the death of his wife. I think Morgan le Fay could be another, but that might have just been a time-space booty call. Valeria Richards and her relationship with he Uncle Doom, is what gave Vic the strength to be better. Bruce had that love his entire life, even immediately after his darkest day. Doom went decades without it.

Up until Valeria was born, all Doom had was his time spent as a destitute street rat, struggling to survive, to inform him about life and the world at large. That brazen cruelty for sure emotionally crippled him in a lot of ways, I'm not even going to start to defend his arrogance or superiority complex, but trauma does that. That's why i think Bats would eventually come around. They've both seen the absolute worst of the world and, in a lot of ways, go about righting those wrongs in the same way. If you pay attention, and the writer is worth their salt, you'd see that Latveria is an autocratic socialist paradise. Latverians are among the most literate, healthy, and happy people in the 616. Jobs are plentiful and crime is almost non-existent. Mans even cured cancer, which he made available to the world, if those people choose to make the trip to Latveria for treatment. The world of 616, at large, likes to paint Vic as this evil despot but, if you interview a laymen of Latveria, they’ll sing his praises. Most people forget that, before Doom returned for his birthright, Latveria was a whole ass occupied state. Think the relationship between Israel and Palestine. Latveria was basically falling into doorknobs for Symkaria and pretending that they weren’t in an abusive relationship. Doom showed up and changed all that. It was a bloody f*cking conflict, for sure, and i am certain Vic committed war crimes, but the end result was a free Latveria with a strong international presence. Doom is a hero to those people but a villain to other nations because of how he rose to power and, more importantly, how independent he made hi country from the world system. Doom did what was necessary to free his people, a march too far for Bruce and that’s why Gotham is the way that it is.

People who don’t know the character like to paint Vic as ego-maniacal villain, and that was valid when comics were just "hero smash bad guy", but we've grown beyond that. Every pop culture interpretation of Doom, outside of the comics, has him as this stoic, arrogant, asshole, dictator bu that’s just not an accurate portrayal of how Doom is in a modern capacity. Vic is definitely an autocrat but he’s no dictator. He can be cruel at times to specific individuals but he is generally benevolent to his people. He doesn’t portray himself as a strongman but he does let it be known he’ll nuke anyone or anything if it means furthering his overall goals which, currently, is the safety and security of Latveria. His country isn’t a police state and his people are free to do as they please but their is a line, just like everywhere else in the world. Doom just has a shorter one and enforces that with extreme prejudice. I’m not going to sit here and say everything is great in Latveria, it’s definitely not, but it ain’t so hot in 616 America either. How many Civil Wars have they had? What about that whole  tidbit with Hydra Cap? There is nuance and gray nowadays, areas that both Bats and Doom comfortably call home. Batman is, objectively, not a pure hero. He is, at best, a chivalric anti-hero and similarly, Doom is more of an anti-villain than the mustache twirling, boogeyman, mastermind pop media portrays him to be. Batman and Doom are basically the same person, with the same motivations, only Doom is willing to go much, much, further than Bruce; A difference in method you an attribute to their respective upbringings.

If Doom had the same support system as Bruce, he’d create miracles. We’ve seen glimpses of that throughout the years. Dooms last run culminated with him essentially obliterating an entire universe where he had the support necessary to build a proper utopia. Our Doom couldn’t fathom the choices made by this variant Doom because of how broken he is. If Bruce was alone in his formative years like Victor, he’d commit atrocities. We’ve seen glimpses of that over they years, too. There are various narratives that explore just such a tragic turn of events, explored in the Death Metal series of books. Dawnbreaker immediately comes to mind. Bruce and victor are the same side of the same coins. It's literally a crap shoot as to which side of the alignment chart either leans. And as if to inform my point further, we just recently had Joker War. That book went a long way to exposing the absolute necessity of raw force, in order to properly “save”Gotham. Joker was able to completely dismantle that entire city by attacking the machinery put in lace to make it run. He effectively proved that The Batman was part of the problem and would never be the solution because Bruce doesn’t go far enough. He puts out fires but never address the sparks which start those blazes. He doesn’t go far enough. He never will. His code won’t allow him to. But Doom can. Doom did. Honestly, if you really want to keep it real, what is Bruce's endgame? What does a healthy Gotham City look like? It looks a lot like f*cking Latveria.

So to answer this question outright, i don’t think they even fight. The way this hypothetical was set up had three rounds: the first being a standard donnybrook, the second being prep time, and the last being god mode. To be perfectly honest with you, it wouldn't make it past the first round. If i had to say, with pedestrian or normie level understanding of he characters, Doom sweeps all categories. For Round one, Doom’s armor trumps all of Batman’s gadgets. For Round Two, Doom has more resources at his fingertips for prep. For Round The God Emperor Doom exists. He created several realities and killed a few Beyonders. Batman sat in a chair which gave him access to all the wisdom in the multiverse, and realized there were three Jokers. Doom all the way. My informed opinion as someone who adores both these character more than most would have me think there wouldn’t even be a conflict to begin with. I think they’d investigate the inciting catalyst, meet in person with intent to attack if necessary, size each other up until one of them made the proposal to just talk, they'd converse, and the fight would end with both of them walking away from each other with begrudging respect. Doom would admire Bruce's will and Bruce would understand the necessity of Doom's position in the world because, if you can make it make sense, Bruce will usually agree. Batman, for all of his shortcomings, is not naive to the world. He’s seen the same darkness as Doom. Doom, for all of his pompous arrogance, understands the struggle to maintain faith in those around you, even if that noble aspiration is misplaced. Bruce is one bad day away from Doom and Doom is a decades worth of days from being Bruce. They mirror each other and i think they’d see that, taking each other as cautionary tales before becoming collaborators. I don’t see them ever really becoming friends but i don't think they’d ever be true enemies.

[bigskydreaming]

Current mood: thinking about the damage done to society by the myth of perpetual cycles of abuse and the flip side of that coin, the incessant woobification of abusers and victimizers.

Like.......one of my biggest.....I don’t want to call it pet peeves cuz its bigger than that, but I don’t want to call it triggers cuz its smaller than that, but somewhere in between, but like....whatever you want to call that, one of the biggest for me in regards to both my two big faves, Scott McCall and Dick Grayson is like......the simultaneous dismissal or erasure of their own traumas and abuse, alongside the erasure/invalidation of how their choices are THEIR choices.

What I mean by that is....let’s look at Scott first. There’s a huge issue of empathy gap when it comes to his character, and people looking past, around or through instances of outright harm, exploitation, trauma and abuse.......in large part because fandom has come to consider these things a kind of shield from criticism. So not only is there the problem of ignoring the harm and damage done to his character by these traumas and abuse.......there’s the compounding issue of how the whole reason this shell game of ‘hide the trauma’ is played in the first place, has literally nothing to do with his character or the effects of these things on him.....but rather the completely superfluous element of like.....people not wanting these things to be usable to defend the character from criticism....even though that’s not what trauma is or why it exists/happens in the first place. It just DOES, and what happens after that is entirely what we make of it......but nothing ever CAN be made of it at all, if its not acknowledged as existing, purely for the sake of ‘winning’ arguments that should have nothing to do with it in the first place.

Like.....this is a character whose father once knocked him down a flight of stairs while drunk, knocking him unconscious and giving him a lasting scar.....and people have had to fight over the years to have this actually acknowledged or considered an instance of abuse. Not because of anything to do with the actual incident itself or what the effects of it were and weren’t on Scott, or how they inform his dynamic with his father.....but purely because fandom is so married to the idea of “abuse makes a character sympathetic regardless of all other context” that they don’t just apply it to villainous characters (and usually just white ones, it must be acknowledged), but they equally apply it in reverse to heroic characters (and usually just ones of color) in order to REMOVE sympathy.....ie, can’t be sympathized with for being abused, if they weren’t actually abused.

Now at the exact same time, this goes hand in hand with the erasure/invalidation of Scott’s good qualities or choices being a credit to him as a person and a character, compounding everything. What I mean HERE is how often do we see Scott’s character and personality being attributed to the influence of his mother, his friends, the Sheriff and Deaton as role models, the idea that he had a better or more stable home life than he otherwise could’ve (with it all being relative, as in, the focus is never even on “was his home life completely happy, healthy and stable at all times: y/n” but rather on the much more malleable “at least it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been/as others’ were.”)

And to be clear: its not that these positive elements DIDN’T exist or that he was completely miserable or anything of the sort, its just something I’m emphasizing in the specific context of how often this is all held up in deliberate contrast to the home lives or pasts of characters like Derek, Jackson, Theo, etc, with the specific aim of pointing to “well of course they don’t make the kinds of choices Scott makes, but that’s because they didn’t have the kind of atmosphere/home/influences Scott had.”

And again, its not that environmental factors, the influences of different parents/nurturers on an individual’s formative years....its not that any of that is irrelevant or meaningless, that it doesn’t play a role, its the EXTREMES I’m talking about here. The fact that its all or nothing, that Scott’s choices and personality being a credit to HIMSELF rather than to his upbringing or surrounding factors just gets washed away as an afterthought, as less than a thought......in order to present as a given.....a premise that is NOT innately true: that anyone could be him or make the choices he makes, if they had the life he had. 

(Something that is frequently born out in the literal hundreds if not thousands of fics that run with the premise of Stiles is bit instead of Scott, or an OC that’s Scott’s sibling is bit instead, and everything else about the show plays out exactly the same, as if Scott himself is irrelevant, that his character, his personality, his choices had absolutely nothing to do with the shape the show took, and that he’s completely interchangeable with anyone else if you just transplant them into his shoes.....all of which leads to the inevitable conclusion that there’s nothing especially worthy of consideration about him, and he’s unnecessary).

Now let’s shift focus to Dick Grayson, and how the exact same thing plays out there. The way so many of his greatest hits: Trauma Edition, are just like....completely glossed over or left out in the cold any time his characterization is happy, upbeat, positive.....as if its completely inconceivable that someone can be those things and yes, also traumatized.

But also, the way that specific instances of trauma and abuse are erased or invalidated the second his choices are being upheld as especially ‘good’ in contrast to another character like Jason. There are other elements in play when it comes to the overall picture of fandom not wanting to engage with Bruce’s instances of abuse with Dick, to be clear......plenty of that hails from fans of Bruce’s character not wanting to interact with canon or fanon that upholds him as capable of treating ANY of his children that way. But what I’m talking about here is like, the specific times and ways when fans who are perfectly willing and even EAGER to interact and engage with canon/fanon where Bruce behaves abusively towards Jason, like....are equally dismissive of the idea that Bruce has an extremely poor track record with Dick as well.

And same as what I was outlining above with Scott’s character.......we run into the same issue of where its not even ABOUT Dick’s character or his choices......but nevertheless, any way in which his choices might be upheld or examined as a good thing or aspirational, just...vanishes, because the spotlight of focus is basically restricted to shaping the idea that well, the problem is never Jason’s choices but rather that he never got the opportunities that Dick did, that Bruce has never done anything wrong in his raising of Dick or given Dick cause to resent him or make poor choices in general or specifically in terms of his dynamic with Bruce, the way Bruce has with Jason.....all leading to the framing narrative that not just are negative choices or decisions not inherently someone’s fault if there are elements of abuse in the mix....but equally that if elements of abuse can be erased from the mix - whether because they literally just weren’t present or they’re willfully being suppressed as part of making the following case - then any positive choices or decisions are not inherently to another character’s credit either. 

Resulting in the same issue, both coming and going:

Over and over, we’re forcefed the narrative that most people prefer to just reaffirm and uphold as true, even if they nominally criticize it here and there......that cycles of abuse are inviolate, and that once abused, that character’s future as an abuser is set in stone......and thus its not really their fault.

While at the exact same time, its equally reaffirmed and upheld as true.......that positive choices are the inevitable end result of positive upbringings, environments and influences.....and thus anyone who doesn’t have these things not making these positive choices....that isn’t really their fault either, nor is it to the credit of anyone who does have these things, if and when they make such choices.

And here’s the kicker: Its not that either of these above statements are inherently UNTRUE.

Its just that they’re not....inherently true.

Its not that abuse victims NEVER become abusers themselves, and its not that their pasts don’t directly have a hand in shaping them following that direction in life.

And its not that people with positive, supportive upbringings never turn out as positive, nurturing individuals, just as its not that their pasts don’t directly play into shaping THEM following THAT direction.

Its that.....its never all or nothing, and this willful insistence that it is....usually for reasons that have absolutely NOTHING whatsoever to do with ACTUALLY examining abuse and trauma and the impacts of this on fictional characters and real life people, choices and decision-making...but rather with abuse and trauma just being completely hijacked and co-opted in the name of ‘winning’ arguments......

Like....it results in the complete erasure of not one, but two entire swaths of people:

1) The people who grew up abused, had no real positive environments, role models or influences, BUT WHO STILL MANAGED TO BECOME POSITIVE, EMPATHETIC, AND CARING PEOPLE REGARDLESS.....

2) And the people who grew up supported, affirmed, sheltered and with plenty of positive role models to potentially choose from, BUT WHO STILL MAKE THE DECISION TO DO HARM, HAVE A TOXIC OR DESTRUCTIVE IMPACT ON OTHERS, AND PRIORITIZE NOTHING BUT THEMSELVES REGARDLESS.

And like yes, both these kinds of people absolutely do exist, and the fact that their existence, their choices, their reasons for making those choices and potential examinations of who they are and why they’re that way and how they’re impacted by things both positive and negative even if the choices they then make don’t match up with what choices are typically expected to go hand in hand with various life experiences or walks of life.......

The fact that all of these things are entirely erased and glossed over and invalidated simply because they’re INCONVENIENT to the more simple, binary perception of ‘good people vs bad people’ and why people are like that.....

Its fucking infuriating, lmfao.

Anyway. So that’s what’s on my mind at the moment.

[aboveallarescuer]

Dany's empathy, compassion, compromises and sacrifices for other people

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

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

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

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

 *Well, at least all the passages that I could find in her chapters, which is of course no guarantee that it is perfect, but I did my best.

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

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

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

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

Along her way Daenerys has convinced herself that she wants to rule for the people and created a utopian ideology around herself as a benevolent freedom fighter -- while on a repressed, involuntary emotional level, the Iron Throne is actually a symbol to her of pain and trauma. So even though she doesn’t understand this herself, all this time her inner dragon wasn’t really driven by hope or the promise of change, but by rage and the will to avenge the abuse she endured at the hands of her enemies. (x)

~

Dany makes big, risky offensive plays, while Cersei -- surrounded by treacherous snakes and haunted by a prophecy that’s outlined how much she will lose - plays defensively. In light of all this, it makes sense why Dany views everything as positive opportunity and Cersei sees the negative angle. Daenerys wins hearts along her way not just because she’s a humanitarian, but also because she has to. (x)

~

[Dany] is a great and terrible leader who is spreading bloodshed and pain in their path. Entire civilizations have been burned at their whim. And her all-consuming desire to rule Westeros? She’s not particularly fussed about the rights of the smallfolk or worried about the impending frozen hell creeping its way from the North. She wants that Iron Throne because it’s her birthright. It’s hers, gosh darn it! Woe to the men and women who stand in her path. (x)

~

It’s likely the idea of Dany as queen would feel more applause-worthy if she stopped burning people alive and avoiding tough chats in favor of actually meeting the people of Westeros. Think about the end of season 3 finale “Mhysa,” when the dragon queen allowed herself to be enveloped by the freed slaves of Yunkai. Although the scene had a distinct and uncomfortable white savior feel, at least we saw Daenerys actually interact with the people she claims to care about so much. None of that behavior has been seen since Dany stepped foot on Westeros, only giving credence to some lords’ claim she is a “foreign” royal, despite her birth on Dragonstone. Instead of getting out and meeting her prospective subjects for a minute, Dany has spent season 7 either holed up in her castle with her advisors or riding her favorite dragon into battle. These are not the actions of someone determined to lift up the common folk. (x)

~

Daenerys isn't bothered by the idea of taking lives to achieve her goal[.] (x)

Dany isn't driven by hope or promise of change? Dany wins hearts because she "has to"? Dany isn't "fussed about the rights of the smallfolk"? Dany doesn't get out and meet her people? Dany isn't bothered by the idea of taking lives to achieve her goal?

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

A Dance with Dragons

ADWD Daenerys X

A girl might spend her life at play, but she was a woman grown, a queen, a wife, a mother to thousands. Her children had need of her. Drogon had bent before the whip, and so must she. She had to don her crown again and return to her ebon bench and the arms of her noble husband.

Hizdahr, of the tepid kisses.

~

No, Dany told herself. If I look back I am lost. She might live for years amongst the sunbaked rocks of Dragonstone, riding Drogon by day and gnawing at his leavings every evenfall as the great grass sea turned from gold to orange, but that was not the life she had been born to. So once again she turned her back upon the distant hill and closed her ears to the song of flight and freedom that the wind sang as it played amongst the hill’s stony ridges. The stream was trickling south by southeast, as near as she could tell. She followed it. Take me to the river, that is all I ask of you. Take me to the river, and I will do the rest.

The hours passed slowly. The stream bent this way and that, and Dany followed, beating time upon her leg with the whip, trying not to think about how far she had to go, or the pounding in her head, or her empty belly. Take one step. Take the next. Another step. Another. What else could she do?

~

Dragonstone was still visible above the grasslands. It looks so close. I must be leagues away by now, but it looks as if I could be back in an hour. She wanted to lie back down, close her eyes, and give herself up to sleep. No. I must keep going. The stream. Just follow the stream.

Dany took a moment to make certain of her directions. It would not do to walk the wrong way and lose her stream. “My friend,” she said aloud. “If I stay close to my friend I won’t get lost.” 

~

“Drogon killed a little girl. Her name was ... her name ...” Dany could not recall the child’s name. That made her so sad that she would have cried if all her tears had not been burned away. “I will never have a little girl. I was the Mother of Dragons.”

~

I gave you good counsel. Save your spears and swords for the Seven Kingdoms, I told you. Leave Meereen to the Meereenese and go west, I said. You would not listen.

“I had to take Meereen or see my children starve along the march.” Dany could still see the trail of corpses she had left behind her crossing the Red Waste. It was not a sight she wished to see again. “I had to take Meereen to feed my people.”

You took Meereen, he told her, yet still you lingered. 

“To be a queen.”

You are a queen, her bear said. In Westeros. 

“It is such a long way,” she complained. “I was tired, Jorah. I was weary of war. I wanted to rest, to laugh, to plant trees and see them grow. I am only a young girl.”

ADWD Daenerys IX

She pushed herself to her feet, splashing softly. Water ran down her legs and beaded on her breasts. The sun was climbing up the sky, and her people would soon be gathering. She would rather have drifted in the fragrant pool all day, eating iced fruit off silver trays and dreaming of a house with a red door, but a queen belongs to her people, not to herself.

~

“How should Meereen ever come to trust the Brazen Beasts if I do not? There are good brave men beneath those masks. I put my life into their hands.” Dany smiled for him. “You fret too much, ser. I will have you beside me, what other protection do I need?”

~

“He would be willing to wait, the woman Meris suggested. Until we march for Westeros.”

And if I never march for Westeros?

~

“Have you ever seen such an auspicious day, my love?” Hizdahr zo Loraq commented when she rejoined him. [...]

“Auspicious for you, perhaps. Less so for those who must die before the sun goes down.”

~

A palanquin lay overturned athwart their way. One of its bearers had collapsed to the bricks, overcome by heat. “Help that man,” Dany commanded. “Get him off the street before he’s stepped on and give him food and water. He looks as though he has not eaten in a fortnight.”

~

“Those bearers were slaves before I came. I made them free. Yet that palanquin is no lighter.”

“True,” said Hizdahr, “but those men are paid to bear its weight now. Before you came, that man who fell would have an overseer standing over him, stripping the skin off his back with a whip. Instead he is being given aid.”

It was true. A Brazen Beast in a boar mask had offered the litter bearer a skin of water. “I suppose I must be thankful for small victories,” the queen said.

“One step, then the next, and soon we shall be running. Together we shall make a new Meereen.” The street ahead had finally cleared. “Shall we continue on?”

What could she do but nod? One step, then the next, but where is it I’m going?

~

Her lord husband stood and raised his hands. “Great Masters! My queen has come this day, to show her love for you, her people. By her grace and with her leave, I give you now your mortal art. Meereen! Let Queen Daenerys hear your love!”

Ten thousand throats roared out their thanks; then twenty thousand; then all. They did not call her name, which few of them could pronounce. “Mother!” they cried instead; in the old dead tongue of Ghis, the word was Mhysa! They stamped their feet and slapped their bellies and shouted, “Mhysa, Mhysa, Mhysa,” until the whole pit seemed to tremble. Dany let the sound wash over her. I am not your mother, she might have shouted, back, I am the mother of your slaves, of every boy who ever died upon these sands whilst you gorged on honeyed locusts.

~

“A boy,” said Dany. “He was only a boy.”

“Six-and-ten,” Hizdahr insisted. “A man grown, who freely chose to risk his life for gold and glory. No children die today in Daznak’s, as my gentle queen in her wisdom has decreed.”

Another small victory. Perhaps I cannot make my people good, she told herself, but I should at least try to make them a little less bad. Daenerys would have prohibited contests between women as well, but Barsena Blackhair protested that she had as much right to risk her life as any man. The queen had also wished to forbid the follies, comic combats where cripples, dwarfs, and crones had at one another with cleavers, torches, and hammers (the more inept the fighters, the funnier the folly, it was thought), but Hizdahr said his people would love her more if she laughed with them, and argued that without such frolics, the cripples, dwarfs, and crones would starve. So Dany had relented.

It had been the custom to sentence criminals to the pits; that practice she agreed might resume, but only for certain crimes. “Murderers and rapers may be forced to fight, and all those who persist in slaving, but not thieves or debtors.”

Beasts were still allowed, though. Dany watched an elephant make short work of a pack of six red wolves. Next a bull was set against a bear in a bloody battle that left both animals torn and dying. “The flesh is not wasted,” said Hizdahr. “The butchers use the carcasses to make a healthful stew for the hungry. Any man who presents himself at the Gates of Fate may have a bowl.”

“A good law,” Dany said. You have so few of them. “We must make certain that this tradition is continued.”

~

The battle was followed by the day’s first folly, a tilt between a pair of jousting dwarfs, presented by one of the Yunkish lords that Hizdahr had invited to the games. One rode a hound, the other a sow. Their wooden armor had been freshly painted, so one bore the stag of the usurper Robert Baratheon, the other the golden lion of House Lannister. That was for her sake, plainly. Their antics soon had Belwas snorting laughter, though Dany’s smile was faint and forced. When the dwarf in red tumbled from the saddle and began to chase his sow across the sands, whilst the dwarf on the dog galloped after him, whapping at his buttocks with a wooden sword, she said, “This is sweet and silly, but …”

“Be patient, my sweet,” said Hizdahr. “They are about to loose the lions.”

Daenerys gave him a quizzical look. “Lions?”

“Three of them. The dwarfs will not expect them.”

She frowned. “The dwarfs have wooden swords. Wooden armor. How do you expect them to fight lions?”

“Badly,” said Hizdahr, “though perhaps they will surprise us. More like they will shriek and run about and try to climb out of the pit. That is what makes this a folly.”

Dany was not pleased. “I forbid it.”

“Gentle queen. You do not want to disappoint your people.”

“You swore to me that the fighters would be grown men who had freely consented to risk their lives for gold and honor. These dwarfs did not consent to battle lions with wooden swords. You will stop it. Now.”

~

The boar buried his snout in Barsena’s belly and began rooting out her entrails. The smell was more than the queen could stand. The heat, the flies, the shouts from the crowd … I cannot breathe. She lifted her veil and let it flutter away. She took her tokar off as well. The pearls rattled softly against one another as she unwound the silk.

“Khaleesi?” Irri asked. “What are you doing?”

“Taking off my floppy ears.” A dozen men with boar spears came trotting out onto the sand to drive the boar away from the corpse and back to his pen. The pitmaster was with them, a long barbed whip in his hand. As he snapped it at the boar, the queen rose. “Ser Barristan, will you see me safely back to my garden?”

Hizdahr looked confused. “There is more to come. A folly, six old women, and three more matches. Belaquo and Goghor!”

“Belaquo will win,” Irri declared. “It is known.”

“It is not known,” Jhiqui said. “Belaquo will die.”

“One will die, or the other will,” said Dany. “And the one who lives will die some other day. This was a mistake.”

~

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

“It was my floppy ears they cheered, not me. Take me from this abbatoir, husband.” She could hear the boar snorting, the shouts of the spearmen, the crack of the pitmaster’s whip.

ADWD Daenerys VIII

“...They can close their fingers around our throat again whenever they wish. They have opened a slave market within sight of my walls!”

“Outside our walls, sweet queen. That was a condition of the peace, that Yunkai would be free to trade in slaves as before, unmolested.”

“In their own city. Not where I have to see it.”

~

So Daenerys sat silent through the meal, wrapped in a vermilion tokar and black thoughts, speaking only when spoken to, brooding on the men and women being bought and sold outside her walls, even as they feasted here within the city. Let her noble husband make the speeches and laugh at the feeble Yunkish japes. That was a king’s right and a king’s duty.

~

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. Better a few should die in the pit than thousands at the gates. This is the price of peace, I pay it willingly. If I look back, I am lost.

~

When the gluttony was done and all the half-eaten food had been cleared away—to be given to the poor who gathered below, at the queen's insistence—tall glass flutes were filled with a spiced liqueur from Qarth as dark as amber.

~

“If it please you, Yurkhaz will be pleased to give us the singers, I do not doubt,” her noble husband said. “A gift to seal our peace, an ornament to our court.”

He will give us these castrati, Dany thought, and then he will march home and make some more. The world is full of boys.

~

Hard by the bay was the abomination, the slave market at her door. She could not see it now, with the sun set, but she knew that it was there. That just made her angrier.

~

“It would please me if he had turned up with these fifty thousand swords he speaks of. Instead he brings two knights and a parchment. Will a parchment shield my people from the Yunkai’i? If he had come with a fleet ...”

[...] “Dorne is too far away. To please this prince, I would need to abandon all my people. You should send him home.”

~

“Bring him to me. It is time he met my children.”

[...] She smiled. “My prince. It is a long way down. Are you certain that you wish to do this?”

“If it would please Your Grace.”

“Then come.”

~

Broken chains clanked and clattered about his legs. Quentyn Martell jumped back a foot.

A crueler woman might have laughed at him, but Dany squeezed his hand and said, “They frighten me as well. There is no shame in that. My children have grown wild and angry in the dark.”

~

“They are ... they are fearsome creatures.”

“They are dragons, Quentyn.” Dany stood on her toes and kissed him lightly, once on each cheek. “And so am I.”

ADWD Daenerys VII

Her foes were all about her. [...] They would not try to take Meereen by storm. They would wait behind their siege lines, flinging stones at her until famine and disease had brought her people to their knees.

Hizdahr will bring me peace. He must.

~

“Dorne is fifty thousand spears and swords, pledged to our queen’s service.”

“Fifty thousand?” mocked Daario. “I count three.”

“Enough,” Daenerys said. “Prince Quentyn has crossed half the world to offer me his gift, I will not have him treated with discourtesy.”

~

“Your Grace does not love the noble Hizdahr. This one thinks you would sooner have another for your husband.”

I must not think of Daario today. “A queen loves where she must, not where she will.”

~

“The day is too hot to be shut up in a palanquin,” said Dany. “Have my silver saddled. I would not go to my lord husband upon the backs of bearers.”

“Your Grace,” said Missandei, “this one is so sorry, but you cannot ride in a tokar.”

The little scribe was right, as she so often was. The tokar was not a garment meant for horseback. Dany made a face. “As you say. Not the palanquin, though. I would suffocate behind those drapes. Have them ready a sedan chair.” If she must wear her floppy ears, let all the rabbits see her.

~

“...This match will save our city, you will see.”

“So we pray. I want to plant my olive trees and see them fruit.” Does it matter that Hizdahr’s kisses do not please me? Peace will please me. Am I a queen or just a woman?

~

Galazza Galare awaited them outside the temple doors, surrounded by her sisters in white and pink and red, blue and gold and purple. There are fewer than there were. Dany looked for Ezzara and did not see her. Has the bloody flux taken even her?

ADWD Daenerys VI

“...Let us distribute the food, Your Grace.”

“On the morrow. I am here now. I want to see.”

~

The Astapori stumbled after them in a ghastly procession that grew longer with every yard they crossed. Some spoke tongues she did not understand. Others were beyond speaking. Many lifted their hands to Dany, or knelt as her silver went by. “Mother,” they called to her, in the dialects of Astapor, Lys, and Old Volantis, in guttural Dothraki and the liquid syllables of Qarth, even in the Common Tongue of Westeros. “Mother, please … mother, help my sister, she is sick … give me food for my little ones … please, my old father … help him … help her … help me …”

I have no more help to give, Dany thought, despairing.

~

It was growing harder to find drivers willing to deliver the food as well. Too many of the men they had sent into the camp had been stricken by the flux themselves. Others had been attacked on the way back to the city. 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.”

~

Their eyes followed her. Those who had the strength called out. “Mother … please, Mother … bless you, Mother …”

Bless me, Dany thought bitterly. Your city is gone to ash and bone, your people are dying all around you. I have no shelter for you, no medicine, no hope. Only stale bread and wormy meat, hard cheese, a little milk. Bless me, bless me.

What kind of mother has no milk to feed her children?

~

“Food should not be wasted on the dying, Your Worship. We do not have enough to feed the living.”

He was not wrong, she knew, but that did not make the words any easier to hear.

~

The queen surveyed the scene around her. “If we were to share our food equally …”

“… the Astapori would eat through their portion in days, and we would have that much less for the siege.”

Dany gazed across the camp, to the many-colored brick walls of Meereen. The air was thick with flies and cries. “The gods have sent this pestilence to humble me. So many dead … I will not have them eating corpses.”

~

“I cannot heal them, but I can show them that their Mother cares.”

~

There was an old man on the ground a few feet away, moaning and staring up at the grey belly of the clouds. She knelt beside him, wrinkling her nose at the smell, and pushed back his dirty grey hair to feel his brow. “His flesh is on fire. I need water to bathe him. Seawater will serve. Marselen, will you fetch some for me? I need oil as well, for the pyre. Who will help me burn the dead?”

By the time Aggo returned with Grey Worm and fifty of the Unsullied loping behind his horse, Dany had shamed all of them into helping her. Symon Stripeback and his men were pulling the living from the dead and stacking up the corpses, while Jhogo and Rakharo and their Dothraki helped those who could still walk toward the shore to bathe and wash their clothes. Aggo stared at them as if they had all gone mad, but Grey Worm knelt beside the queen and said, “This one would be of help.”

Before midday a dozen fires were burning. Columns of greasy black smoke rose up to stain a merciless blue sky. Dany’s riding clothes were stained and sooty as she stepped back from the pyres. “Worship,” Grey Worm said, “this one and his brothers beg your leave to bathe in the salt sea when our work here is done, that we might be purified according to the laws of our great goddess.”

The queen had not known that the eunuchs had a goddess of their own. “Who is this goddess? One of the gods of Ghis?”

Grey Worm looked troubled. “The goddess is called by many names. She is the Lady of Spears, the Bride of Battle, the Mother of Hosts, but her true name belongs only to these poor ones who have burned their manhoods upon her altar. We may not speak of her to others. This one begs your forgiveness.”

“As you wish. Yes, you may bathe if that is your desire. Thank you for your help.”

“These ones live to serve you.”

~

“No ruler can make a people good,” Selmy had told her. “Baelor the Blessed prayed and fasted and built the Seven as splendid a temple as any gods could wish for, yet he could not put an end to war and want.” A queen must listen to her people, Dany reminded herself. “After the wedding Hizdahr will be king. Let him reopen the fighting pits if he wishes. I want no part of it.” Let the blood be on his hands, not mine.

~

“Daenerys, my queen, I will gladly wash you from head to heel if that is what I must do to be your king and consort.”

“To be my king and consort, you need only bring me peace.[”]

~

Would she never have a friend that she could trust? What good are prophecies if you cannot make sense of them? If I marry Hizdahr before the sun comes up, will all these armies melt away like morning dew and let me rule in peace?

~

“I thought you would be the one to betray me. Once for blood and once for gold and once for love, the warlocks said. I thought … I never thought Brown Ben. Even my dragons seemed to trust him.” She clutched her captain by the shoulders. “Promise me that you will never turn against me. I could not bear that. Promise me.”

ADWD Daenerys V

Daenerys received them in the grandeur of her hall as tall candles burned amongst the marble pillars. When she saw that the Astapori were half-starved, she sent for food at once.

~

“I’m no maester, mind you, but I know you got to keep the bad apples from the good.”

“These are not apples, Ben,” said Dany. “These are men and women, sick and hungry and afraid.” My children. “I should have gone to Astapor.”

~

“You want me to loot Meereen and flee? No, I will not do that.[”]

~

Daenerys looked at the faces of the men around her. The Shavepate, scowling. Ser Barristan, with his lined face and sad blue eyes. Reznak mo Reznak, pale, sweating. Brown Ben, white-haired, grizzled, tough as old leather. Grey Worm, smooth-cheeked, stolid, expressionless. Daario should be here, and my bloodriders, she thought. If there is to be a battle, the blood of my blood should be with me. She missed Ser Jorah Mormont too. He lied to me, informed on me, but he loved me too, and he always gave good counsel.

~

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

“Your Grace?” Ser Barristan prompted, gently.

A queen belongs not to herself but to her people.

“I need Hizdahr zo Loraq.”

ADWD Daenerys IV

Two of Dany’s favorite hostages served the food and kept the cups filled—a doe-eyed little girl called Qezza and a skinny boy named Grazhar. They were brother and sister, and cousins of the Green Grace, who greeted them with kisses when she swept in, and asked them if they had been good.

“They are very sweet, the both of them,” Dany assured her. “Qezza sings for me sometimes. She has a lovely voice. And Ser Barristan has been instructing Grazhar and the other boys in the ways of western chivalry.”

~

The cowards broke in on some weavers, freedwomen who had done no harm to anyone. All they did was make beautiful things. I have a tapestry they gave me hanging over my bed.[”]

~

“...You have not harmed any of the noble children you hold as hostage.”

“Not as yet, no.” Dany had grown fond of her young charges. Some were shy and some were bold, some sweet and some sullen, but all were innocent. [...]

Dany pushed her food about her plate. She dare not glance over to where Grazhar and Qezza stood, for fear that she might cry. [...] Hazzea was enough. What good is peace if it must be purchased with the blood of little children? “These murders are not their doing,” Dany told the Green Grace, feebly. “I am no butcher queen.”

~

Only then would her womb quicken once again …

… but Daenerys Targaryen had other children, tens of thousands who had hailed her as their mother when she broke their chains. She thought of Stalwart Shield, of Missandei’s brother, of the woman Rylona Rhee, who had played the harp so beautifully. No marriage would ever bring them back to life, but if a husband could help end the slaughter, then she owed it to her dead to marry.

~

“...Meereen cannot endure another war, Your Radiance.”

That was a good answer, and an honest one. “I have never wanted war. I defeated the Yunkai’i once and spared their city when I might have sacked it. I refused to join King Cleon when he marched against them. Even now, with Astapor besieged, I stay my hand. And Qarth … I have never done the Qartheen any harm …”

~

“...I would sooner perish fighting than return my children to bondage.”

“There may be another choice. The Yunkai’i can be persuaded to allow all your freedmen to remain free, I believe, if Your Worship will agree that the Yellow City may trade and train slaves unmolested from this day forth. No more blood need flow.”

“Save for the blood of those slaves that the Yunkai’i will trade and train,” Dany said, but she recognized the truth in his words even so. It may be that is the best end we can hope for.

~

“So,” she said to him, “it seems that I may wed again. Are you happy for me, ser?”

“If that is your command, Your Grace.”

“Hizdahr is not the husband you would have chosen for me.”

“It is not my place to choose your husband.”

“It is not,” she agreed, “but it is important to me that you should understand. My people are bleeding. Dying. A queen belongs not to herself, but to the realm. Marriage or carnage, those are my choices. A wedding or a war.”

~

“You are fighting shadows when you should be fighting the men who cast them,” Daario went on. “Kill them all and take their treasures, I say. Whisper the command, and your Daario will make you a pile of their heads taller than this pyramid.”

“If I knew who they were—”

“Zhak and Pahl and Merreq. Them, and all the rest. The Great Masters. Who else would it be?”

He is as bold as he is bloody. “We have no proof this is their work. Would you have me slaughter my own subjects?”

“Your own subjects would gladly slaughter you.”

He had been so long away, Dany had almost forgotten what he was. Sellswords were treacherous by nature, she reminded herself. Fickle, faithless, brutal. He will never be more than he is. He will never be the stuff of kings. “The pyramids are strong,” she explained to him. “We could take them only at great cost. The moment we attack one the others will rise against us.”

“Then winkle them out of their pyramids on some pretext. A wedding might serve. Why not? Promise your hand to Hizdahr and all the Great Masters will come to see you married. When they gather in the Temple of the Graces, turn us loose upon them.”

Dany was appalled. He is a monster. A gallant monster, but a monster still. “Do you take me for the Butcher King?”

ADWD Daenerys III

The cedars that had once grown tall along the coast grew no more, felled by the axes of the Old Empire or consumed by dragonfire when Ghis made war against Valyria. Once the trees had gone, the soil baked beneath the hot sun and blew away in thick red clouds. “It was these calamities that transformed my people into slavers,” Galazza Galare had told her, at the Temple of the Graces. And I am the calamity that will change these slavers back into people, Dany had sworn to herself.

~

“I want no slave. I free you.” His jeweled nose made a tempting target. This time Dany threw an apricot at him.

Xaro caught it in the air and took a bite. “Whence came this madness? Should I count myself fortunate that you did not free my own slaves when you were my guest in Qarth?”

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?”

~

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.”

~

“My dragons have grown, my shoulders have not. They range far afield, hunting.” Hazzea, forgive me.

~

Dany wondered how many men thirteen galleys could hold. It had taken three to carry her and her khalasar from Qarth to Astapor, but that was before she had acquired eight thousand Unsullied, a thousand sellswords, and a vast horde of freedmen. And the dragons, what am I to do with them? “Drogon,” she whispered softly, “where are you?” For a moment she could almost see him sweeping across the sky, his black wings swallowing the stars.

~

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

She kissed [Barristan] on the cheek. "I know you will. Come, walk me back down to the feast."

~

One of her young hostages brought her morning meal, a plump shy girl named Mezzara, whose father ruled the pyramid of Merreq, and Dany gave her a happy hug and thanked her with a kiss.

~

“We are all dead, then. You gave us death, not freedom.” Ghael leapt to his feet and spat into her face.

Strong Belwas seized him by the shoulder and slammed him down onto the marble so hard that Dany heard Ghael’s teeth crack. The Shavepate would have done worse, but she stopped him.

“Enough,” she said, dabbing at her cheek with the end of her tokar. “No one has ever died from spittle. Take him away.”

~

Dany would gladly have sent the rest of the petitioners away … but she was still their queen, so she heard them out and did her best to give them justice.

~

Late that afternoon Admiral Groleo and Ser Barristan returned from their inspection of the galleys. Dany assembled her council to hear them. Grey Worm was there for the Unsullied, Skahaz mo Kandaq for the Brazen Beasts. In the absence of her bloodriders, a wizened jaqqa rhan called Rommo, squint-eyed and bowlegged, came to speak for her Dothraki. 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.

~

Reznak mo Reznak gave a piteous moan. “Then it is true. Your Worship means to abandon us.” He wrung his hands. “The Yunkai’i will restore the Great Masters the instant you are gone, and we who have so faithfully served your cause will be put to the sword, our sweet wives and maiden daughters raped and enslaved.”

“Not mine,” grumbled Skahaz Shavepate. “I will kill them first, with mine own hand.” He slapped his sword hilt.

Dany felt as if he had slapped her face instead. “If you fear what may follow when I leave, come with me to Westeros.”

~

“Those left behind in Meereen would envy them their easy deaths,” moaned Reznak. “They will make slaves of us, or throw us in the pits. All will be as it was, or worse.”

“Where is your courage?” Ser Barristan lashed out. “Her Grace freed you from your chains. It is for you to sharpen your swords and defend your own freedom when she leaves.”

“Brave words, from one who means to sail into the sunset,” Symon Stripeback snarled back. “Will you look back at our dying?”

“Your Grace—”

“Magnificence—”

“Your Worship—”

“Enough.” Dany slapped the table. “No one will be left to die. You are all my people.” Her dreams of home and love had blinded her. “I will not abandon Meereen to the fate of Astapor. It grieves me to say so, but Westeros must wait.”

~

“My lord, I will gladly have those ships, but I cannot give you the promise that you ask.” She took his hand. “Give me the galleys, and I swear that Qarth will have the friendship of Meereen until the stars go out. Let me trade with them, and you will have a good part of the profits.”

Xaro’s glad smile died upon his lips. “What are you saying? Are you telling me you will not go?”

“I cannot go.”

ADWD Daenerys II

“Who is that weeping?”

“Your slave Missandei.” Jhiqui had a taper in her hand.

“My servant. I have no slaves.”

~

“Magnificence,” murmured Reznak mo Reznak, “we cannot know that these great nobles mean to join your enemies. More like they are simply making for their estates in the hills.”

“They will not mind us keeping their gold safe, then. There is nothing to buy in the hills.”

“They are afraid for their children,” Reznak said.

Yes, Daenerys thought, and so am I. “We must keep them safe as well. I will have two children from each of them. From the other pyramids as well. A boy and a girl.”

“Hostages,” said Skahaz, happily.

“Pages and cupbearers. If the Great Masters make objection, explain to them that in Westeros it is a great honor for a child to be chosen to serve at court.”

~

“[...] Will you hear my friends? There are seven of them as well. [...] They have come to add their voices to mine own, and ask Your Grace to let our fighting pits reopen.”

[...] Dany had no answer for that. If this is truly what my people wish, do I have the right to deny it to them? It was their city before it was mine, and it is their own lives they wish to squander. “I will consider all you've said. Thank you for your counsel.” She rose. “We will resume on the morrow.”

~

Safe. The word made Dany’s eyes fill up with tears. “I want to keep you safe.” Missandei was only a child. With her, she felt as if she could be a child too. “No one ever kept me safe when I was little. Well, Ser Willem did, but then he died, and Viserys … I want to protect you but … it is so hard. To be strong. I don’t always know what I should do. I must know, though. I am all they have. I am the queen … the … the …”

“… mother,” whispered Missandei.

“Mother to dragons.” Dany shivered.

“No. Mother to us all.” Missandei hugged her tighter. “Your Grace should sleep. Dawn will be here soon, and court.”

“We’ll both sleep, and dream of sweeter days. Close your eyes.” When she did, Dany kissed her eyelids and made her giggle.

~

Somewhere beneath those roofs, the Sons of the Harpy were gathered, plotting ways to kill her and all those who loved her and put her children back in chains. Somewhere down there a hungry child was crying for milk. Somewhere an old woman lay dying. Somewhere a man and a maid embraced, and fumbled at each other’s clothes with eager hands. But up here there was only the sheen of moonlight on pyramids and pits, with no hint what lay beneath. Up here there was only her, alone.

She was the blood of the dragon. She could kill the Sons of the Harpy, and the sons of the sons, and the sons of the sons of the sons. But a dragon could not feed a hungry child nor help a dying woman’s pain. And who would ever dare to love a dragon?

~

“The freedmen work too cheaply, Magnificence,” Reznak said. “Some call themselves journeymen, or even masters, titles that belong by rights only to the craftsmen of the guilds. The masons and the bricklayers do respectfully petition Your Worship to uphold their ancient rights and customs.”

“The freedmen work cheaply because they are hungry,” Dany pointed out. “If I forbid them to carve stone or lay bricks, the chandlers, the weavers, and the goldsmiths will soon be at my gates asking that they be excluded from those trades as well.”

~

“Hizdahr swears that the winners shall share half of all the coin collected at the gates,” said Khrazz. “Half, he swears it, and Hizdahr is an honorable man.”

No, a cunning man. Daenerys felt trapped. “And the losers? What shall they receive?”

~

The guilt …” The word caught in her throat. Hazzea, she thought, and suddenly she heard herself say, “I have to see the pit,” in a voice as small as a child’s whisper. “Take me down, ser, if you would.”

~

What sort of mother lets her children rot in darkness?

~

If I look back, I am doomed, Dany told herself … but how could she not look back? I should have seen it coming. Was I so blind, or did I close my eyes willfully, so I would not have to see the price of power?

[...] On the road to Yunkai, when Daario tossed the heads of Sallor the Bald and Prendahl na Ghezn at her feet, her children made a feast of them. Dragons had no fear of men. And a dragon large enough to gorge on sheep could take a child just as easily.

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

 [...] Dany chose to pay the blood price. No one could tell her the worth of a daughter, so she set it at one hundred times the worth of a lamb. “I would give Hazzea back to you if I could,” she told the father, “but some things are beyond the power of even a queen. Her bones shall be laid to rest in the Temple of the Graces, and a hundred candles shall burn day and night in her memory. Come back to me each year upon her nameday, and your other children shall not want … but this tale must never pass your lips again.”

~

Mother of dragons, Daenerys thought. Mother of monsters. What have I unleashed upon the world? A queen I am, but my throne is made of burned bones, and it rests on quicksand. Without dragons, how could she hope to hold Meereen, much less win back Westeros? I am the blood of the dragon, she thought. If they are monsters, so am I.

ADWD Daenerys I

“Your Grace,” said Ser Barristan Selmy, the lord commander of her Queensguard, “there is no need for you to see this.”

“He died for me.”

~

“Grey Worm, why was this man alone? Had he no partner?” By her command, when the Unsullied walked the streets of Meereen by night they always walked in pairs.

“My queen,” replied the captain, “your servant Stalwart Shield had no duty last night. He had gone to a ... a certain place ... to drink, and have companionship.”

“A certain place? What do you mean?”

“A house of pleasure, Your Grace.”

[...] “What could a eunuch hope to find in a brothel?”

“Even those who lack a man’s parts may still have a man’s heart, Your Grace,” said Grey Worm. “This one has been told that your servant Stalwart Shield sometimes gave coin to the women of the brothels to lie with him and hold him.”

The blood of the dragon does not weep. “Stalwart Shield,” she said, dry-eyed. “That was his name?”

“If it please Your Grace.”

“It is a fine name.” The Good Masters of Astapor had not allowed their slave soldiers even names. Some of her Unsullied reclaimed their birth names after she had freed them; others chose new names for themselves. [...]

Dany said a silent prayer that somewhere one of the Harpy’s Sons was dying even now, clutching at his belly and writhing in pain. “Why did they cut open his cheeks like that?”

“Gracious queen,” said Grey Worm, “his killers had forced the genitals of a goat down the throat of your servant Stalwart Shield. This one removed them before bringing him here.”

[...] Shrugging off the lion pelt, she knelt beside the corpse and closed the dead man’s eyes, ignoring Jhiqui’s gasp. “Stalwart Shield shall not be forgotten. Have him washed and dressed for battle and bury him with cap and shield and spears.”

~

To rule Meereen I must win the Meereenese, however much I may despise them.

~

The hall had filled. Unsullied stood with their backs to the pillars, holding shields and spears, the spikes on their caps jutting upward like a row of knives. The Meereenese had gathered beneath the eastern windows. Her freedmen stood well apart from their former masters. Until they stand together, Meereen will know no peace. “Arise.” Dany settled onto her bench. The hall rose. That at least they do as one.

~

“What was the name of the old weaver?”

“The slave?” Grazdan shifted his weight, frowning. “She was … Elza, it might have been. Or Ella. It was six years ago she died. I have owned so many slaves, Your Grace.”

“Let us say Elza. Here is our ruling. From the girls, you shall have nothing. It was Elza who taught them weaving, not you. From you, the girls shall have a new loom, the finest coin can buy. That is for forgetting the name of the old woman.”

~

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.

~

“Some men have brought burnt bones.”

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

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

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

A Storm of Swords

ASOS Daenerys VI

“I am going to take you home one day, Missandei,” Dany promised. If I had made the same promise to Jorah, would he still have sold me? “I swear it.”

“This one is content to stay with you, Your Grace. Naath will be there, always. You are good to this—to me.”

“And you to me.”

~

“The city bleeds. Dead men rot unburied in the streets, each pyramid is an armed camp, and the markets have neither food nor slaves for sale. And the poor children! King Cleaver’s thugs have seized every highborn boy in Astapor to make new Unsullied for the trade, though it will be years before they are trained.”

The thing that surprised Dany most was how unsurprised she was. She found herself remembering Eroeh, the Lhazarene girl she had once tried to protect, and what had happened to her. It will be the same in Meereen once I march, she thought.

~

“Any man who wishes to sell himself into slavery may do so. Or woman.” She raised a hand. “But they may not sell their children, nor a man his wife.”

~

“Aegon the Conqueror brought fire and blood to Westeros, but afterward he gave them peace, prosperity, and justice. But all I have brought to Slaver’s Bay is death and ruin. I have been more khal than queen, smashing and plundering, then moving on.”

“There is nothing to stay for,” said Brown Ben Plumm.

“Your Grace, the slavers brought their doom on themselves,” said Daario Naharis.

“You have brought freedom as well,” Missandei pointed out.

“Freedom to starve?” asked Dany sharply. “Freedom to die? Am I a dragon, or a harpy?” Am I mad? Do I have the taint?

“A dragon,” Ser Barristan said with certainty. “Meereen is not Westeros, Your Grace.”

“But how can I rule seven kingdoms if I cannot rule a single city?” He had no answer to that. Dany turned away from them, to gaze out over the city once again. “My children need time to heal and learn. My dragons need time to grow and test their wings. And I need the same. I will not let this city go the way of Astapor. I will not let the harpy of Yunkai chain up those I’ve freed all over again.” She turned back to look at their faces. “I will not march.”

“What will you do then, Khaleesi?” asked Rakharo.

“Stay,” she said. “Rule. And be a queen.”

ASOS Daenerys V

Her host numbered more than eighty thousand after Yunkai, but fewer than a quarter of them were soldiers. The rest ... well, Ser Jorah called them mouths with feet, and soon they would be starving.

The Great Masters of Meereen had withdrawn before Dany’s advance, harvesting all they could and burning what they could not harvest. Scorched fields and poisoned wells had greeted her at every hand. Worst of all, they had nailed a slave child up on every milepost along the coast road from Yunkai, nailed them up still living with their entrails hanging out and one arm always outstretched to point the way to Meereen. Leading her van, Daario had given orders for the children to be taken down before Dany had to see them, but she had countermanded him as soon as she was told. “I will see them,” she said. “I will see every one, and count them, and look upon their faces. And I will remember.”

By the time they came to Meereen sitting on the salt coast beside her river, the count stood at one hundred and sixty-three. I will have this city, Dany pledged to herself once more.

~

“Strong Belwas needs liver and onions.”

“You shall have it,” said Dany. “Strong Belwas is hurt.” His stomach was red with the blood sheeting down from the meaty gash beneath his breasts.

“It is nothing. I let each man cut me once, before I kill him.” He slapped his bloody belly. “Count the cuts and you will know how many Strong Belwas has slain.”

But Dany had lost Khal Drogo to a similar wound, and she was not willing to let it go untreated. She sent Missandei to find a certain Yunkish freedman renowned for his skill in the healing arts. Belwas howled and complained, but Dany scolded him and called him a big bald baby until he let the healer stanch the wound with vinegar, sew it shut, and bind his chest with strips of linen soaked in fire wine. Only then did she lead her captains and commanders inside her pavilion for their council.

~

Daario Naharis gave Grey Worm a smile. “Perhaps the Unsullied should wield the axes. Boiling oil feels like no more than a warm bath to you, I have heard.”

“This is false.” Grey Worm did not return the smile. “These ones do not feel burns as men do, yet such oil blinds and kills. The Unsullied do not fear to die, though. Give these ones rams, and we will batter down these gates or die in the attempt.”

“You would die,” said Brown Ben. At Yunkai, when he took command of the Second Sons, he claimed to be the veteran of a hundred battles. “Though I will not say I fought bravely in all of them. There are old sellswords and bold sellswords, but no old bold sellswords.” She saw that it was true.

Dany sighed. “I will not throw away Unsullied lives, Grey Worm.”

~

“...You stopped at Astapor to buy an army, not to start a war. Save your spears and swords for the Seven Kingdoms, my queen. Leave Meereen to the Meereenese and march west for Pentos.”

“Defeated?” said Dany, bristling.

[...] 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.”

~

The grove of burnt olive trees in which she’d raised her pavilion stood beside the sea, between the Dothraki camp and that of the Unsullied. When the horses had been saddled, Dany and her companions set out along the shoreline, away from the city. Even so, she could feel Meereen at her back, mocking her. 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 IV

Dany considered. The slaver host seemed small compared to her own numbers, but the sellswords were ahorse. She’d ridden too long with Dothraki not to have a healthy respect for what mounted warriors could do to foot. The Unsullied could withstand their charge, but my freedmen will be slaughtered. 

~

One of the first things Dany had done after the fall of Astapor was abolish the custom of giving the Unsullied new slave names every day. Most of those born free had returned to their birth names; those who still remembered them, at least. Others had called themselves after heroes or gods, and sometimes weapons, gems, and even flowers, which resulted in soldiers with some very peculiar names, to Dany’s ears. Grey Worm had remained Grey Worm. When she asked him why, he said, “It is a lucky name. The name this one was born to was accursed. That was the name he had when he was taken for a slave. But Grey Worm is the name this one drew the day Daenerys Stormborn set him free.”

“If battle is joined, let Grey Worm show wisdom as well as valor,” Dany told him. “Spare any slave who runs or throws down his weapon. The fewer slain, the more remain to join us after.”

“This one will remember.”

“I know he will. Be at my tent by midday. I want you there with my other officers when I treat with the sellsword captains.” Dany spurred her silver on to camp.

~

Within the perimeter the Unsullied had established, the tents were going up in orderly rows, with her own tall golden pavilion at the center. A second encampment lay close beyond her own; five times the size, sprawling and chaotic, this second camp had no ditches, no tents, no sentries, no horselines. Those who had horses or mules slept beside them, for fear they might be stolen. Goats, sheep, and half-starved dogs wandered freely amongst hordes of women, children, and old men. Dany had left Astapor in the hands of a council of former slaves led by a healer, a scholar, and a priest. Wise men all, she thought, and just. Yet even so, tens of thousands preferred to follow her to Yunkai, rather than remain behind in Astapor. I gave them the city, and most of them were too frightened to take it.

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

~

“I cannot sleep when men are dying for me, Whitebeard,” she said.

~

“Our own losses?”

“A dozen. If that many.”

Only then did she allow herself to smile.

~

“Sellsword or slave, spare all those who will pledge me their faith. If enough of the Second Sons will join us, keep the company intact.”

~

“Mhysa! Mhysa!”

Dany looked at Missandei. “What are they shouting?” “It is Ghiscari, the old pure tongue. It means ‘Mother.’”

Dany felt a lightness in her chest. I will never bear a living child, she remembered. Her hand trembled as she raised it. Perhaps she smiled. She must have, because the man grinned and shouted again, and others took up the cry. “Mhysa!” they called. “Mhysa! MHYSA!” They were all smiling at her, reaching for her, kneeling before her. “Maela,” some called her while others cried “Aelalla” or “Qathei” or “Tato,” but whatever the tongue it all meant the same thing. Mother. They are calling me Mother.

The chant grew, spread, swelled. It swelled so loud that it frightened her horse, and the mare backed and shook her head and lashed her silver-grey tail. It swelled until it seemed to shake the yellow walls of Yunkai. More slaves were streaming from the gates every moment, and as they came they took up the call. They were running toward her now, pushing, stumbling, wanting to touch her hand, to stroke her horse’s mane, to kiss her feet. Her poor bloodriders could not keep them all away, and even Strong Belwas grunted and growled in dismay.

Ser Jorah urged her to go, but Dany remembered a dream she had dreamed in the House of the Undying. “They will not hurt me,” she told him. “They are my children, Jorah.” She laughed, put her heels into her horse, and rode to them, the bells in her hair ringing sweet victory. She trotted, then cantered, then broke into a gallop, her braid streaming behind. The freed slaves parted before her. “Mother,” they called from a hundred throats, a thousand, ten thousand. “Mother,” they sang, their fingers brushing her legs as she flew by. “Mother, Mother, Mother!”

ASOS Daenerys III

“All,” growled Kraznys mo Nakloz, who smelled of peaches today. The slave girl repeated the word in the Common Tongue of Westeros. “Of thousands, there are eight. Is this what she means by all? There are also six centuries, who shall be part of a ninth thousand when complete. Would she have them too?”

“I would,” said Dany when the question was put to her. “The eight thousands, the six centuries ... and the ones still in training as well. The ones who have not earned the spikes.”

~

Dany let them argue, sipping the tart persimmon wine and trying to keep her face blank and ignorant. I will have them all, no matter the price, she told herself. The city had a hundred slave traders, but the eight before her were the greatest. When selling bed slaves, fieldhands, scribes, craftsmen, and tutors, these men were rivals, but their ancestors had allied one with the other for the purpose of making and selling the Unsullied. Brick and blood built Astapor, and brick and blood her people.

~

“My need is now. The Unsullied are well trained, but even so, many will fall in battle. I shall need the boys as replacements to take up the swords they drop.” She put her wine aside and leaned toward the slave girl. “Tell the Good Masters that I will want even the little ones who still have their puppies. Tell them that I will pay as much for the boy they cut yesterday as for an Unsullied in a spiked helm.”

The girl told them. The answer was still no.


Dany frowned in annoyance. “Very well. Tell them I will pay double, so long as I get them all.”


~

Two thousand would never serve for what she meant to do. I must have them all. Dany knew what she must do now, though the taste of it was so bitter that even the persimmon wine could not cleanse it from her month. She had considered long and hard and found no other way. It is my only choice. “Give me all,” she said, “and you may have a dragon.”

~

“When you are ... when you are done with them ... your Grace might command them to fall upon their swords.”

“And even that, they would do?”


“Yes.” Missandei’s voice had grown soft. “Your Grace.”

Dany squeezed her hand. “You would sooner I did not ask it of them, though. Why is that? Why do you care?”

“This one does not ... I ... Your Grace ... ”


“Tell me.”


The girl lowered her eyes. “Three of them were my brothers once, Your Grace.”

Then I hope your brothers are as brave and clever as you.

~

“Magister Illyrio is not here,” she finally had to tell him, “and if he was, he could not sway me either. I need the Unsullied more than I need these ships, and I will hear no more about it.”

The anger burned the grief and fear from her, for a few hours at the least.

~

“Do you remember Eroeh?” she asked him. “The Lhazareen girl?”

“They were raping her, but I stopped them and took her under my protection. Only when my sun-and-stars was dead Mago took her back, used her again, and killed her. Aggo said it was her fate.”

“I remember,” Ser Jorah said.

“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.”

~

“Unsullied! Defend us, stop them, defend your masters! Spears! Swords!”

[...] The Unsullied did not so much as look down to watch him die. Rank on rank on rank, they stood.

And did not move. The gods have heard my prayer.

“Unsullied!” Dany galloped before them, her silver-gold braid flying behind her, her bell chiming with every stride. “Slay the Good Masters, slay the soldiers, slay every man who wears a tokar or holds a whip, but harm no child under twelve, and strike the chains off every slave you see.” She raised the harpy’s fingers in the air ... and then she flung the scourge aside. “Freedom!” she sang out. “Dracarys! Dracarys!”

“Dracarys!” they shouted back, the sweetest word she’d ever heard. “Dracarys! Dracarys!” And all around them slavers ran and sobbed and begged and died, and the dusty air was filled with spears and fire.

ASOS Daenerys II

“Tell her that these have been standing here for a day and a night, with no food nor water. [...] Such is their courage. Tell her that.”

“I call that madness, not courage,” said Arstan Whitebeard, when the solemn little scribe was done. He tapped the end of his hardwood staff against the bricks, tap tap, as if to tell his displeasure. The old man had not wanted to sail to Astapor; nor did he favor buying this slave army. A queen should hear all sides before reaching a decision. That was why Dany had brought him with her to the Plaza of Pride, not to keep her safe.

~

He stopped before a thickset man who had the look of Lhazar about him and brought his whip up sharply, laying a line of blood across one copper cheek. The eunuch blinked, and stood there, bleeding. “Would you like another?” asked Kraznys.

“If it please your worship.”

It was hard to pretend not to understand. Dany laid a hand on Kraznys’s arm before he could raise the whip again. “Tell the Good Master that I see how strong his Unsullied are, and how bravely they suffer pain.”

~

“There are other ways to tempt men, besides the flesh,” Arstan Whitebeard objected, when she was done.

“Men, yes, but not Unsullied. Plunder interests them no more than rape. They own nothing but their weapons. We do not even permit them names.”

“No names?” Dany frowned at the little scribe. “Can that be what the Good Master said? They have no names?”

~

“More madness,” said Arstan, when he heard. “How can any man possibly remember a new name every day?”

“Those who cannot are culled in training, along with those who cannot run all day in full pack, scale a mountain in the black of night, walk across a bed of coals, or slay an infant.”

Dany’s mouth surely twisted at that. Did he see, or is he blind as well as cruel? She turned away quickly, trying to keep her face a mask until she heard the translation. Only then did she allow herself to say, “Whose infants do they slay?”

“To win his spiked cap, an Unsullied must go to the slave marts with a silver mark, find some wailing newborn, and kill it before its mother’s eyes. In this way, we make certain that there is no weakness left in them.”

She was feeling faint. The heat, she tried to tell herself. “You take a babe from its mother’s arms, kill it as she watches, and pay for her pain with a silver coin?”

~

Dany climbed into her litter frowning, and beckoned Arstan to climb in beside her. A man as old as him should not be walking in such heat.

~

“Make way!” Jhogo shouted as he rode before her litter. “Make way for the Mother of Dragons!” But when he uncoiled the great silver-handled whip that Dany had given him, and made to crack it in the air, she leaned out and told him nay. “Not in this place, blood of my blood,” she said, in his own tongue. “These bricks have heard too much of the sound of whips.”

~

“Dog,” he said happily when he saw Dany. “Good dog in Astapor, little queen. Eat?” He offered it with a greasy grin.

“That is kind of you, Belwas, but no.” Dany had eaten dog in other places, at other times, but just now all she could think of was the Unsullied and their stupid puppies.

~

“How many men do they have for sale?”

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

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

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

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

“You have. You’ve displeased me greatly, ser. If you were my true knight, you would never have brought me to this vile sty.”

~

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

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

“No, Khaleesi. Drogon breathed his fire, but in the empty air. The slaver men feared to come near him.”

She kissed Irri’s hand where Drogon had bitten it. “I’m sorry he hurt you. Dragons are not meant to be locked up in a small ship’s cabin.”

~

Dusk had begun to settle over the waters of Slaver’s Bay before Dany returned to the deck. She stood by the rail and looked out over Astapor. From here it looks almost beautiful, she thought. The stars were coming out above, and the silk lanterns below, just as Kraznys’s translator had promised. The brick pyramids were all glimmery with light. But it is dark below, in the streets and plazas and fighting pits. And it is darkest of all in the barracks, where some little boy is feeding scraps to the puppy they gave him when they took away his manhood.

~

Cheaper than fighting, Dany thought. Yes, it might be. If only it could be that easy for her. How pleasant it would be to sail to King’s Landing with her dragons, and pay the boy Joffrey a chest of gold to make him go away.

~

“Viserys would have bought as many Unsullied as he had the coin for. But you once said I was like Rhaegar ...”

“I remember, Daenerys.”

“Your Grace,” she corrected. “Prince Rhaegar led free men into battle, not slaves. Whitebeard said he dubbed his squires himself, and made many other knights as well.”

“There was no higher honor than to receive your knighthood from the Prince of Dragonstone.”

“Tell me, then—when he touched a man on the shoulder with his sword, what did he say? ‘Go forth and kill the weak’? Or ‘Go forth and defend them’? At the Trident, those brave men Viserys spoke of who died beneath our dragon banners—did they give their lives because they believed in Rhaegar’s cause, or because they had been bought and paid for?” Dany turned to Mormont, crossed her arms, and waited for an answer.

ASOS Daenerys I

The captain appeared at her elbow. “Would that this Balerion could soar as her namesake did, Your Grace,” he said in bastard Valyrian heavily flavored with accents of Pentos. “Then we should not need to row, nor tow, nor pray for wind.”

“Just so, Captain,” she answered with a smile, pleased to have won the man over. Captain Groleo was an old Pentoshi like his master, Illyrio Mopatis, and he had been nervous as a maiden about carrying three dragons on his ship. Half a hundred buckets of seawater still hung from the gunwales, in case of fires. At first Groleo had wanted the dragons caged and Dany had consented to put his fears at ease, but their misery was so palpable that she soon changed her mind and insisted they be freed.


Even Captain Groleo was glad of that, now. There had been one small fire, easily extinguished; against that, Balerion suddenly seemed to have far fewer rats than she’d had before, when she sailed under the name Saduleon. And her crew, once as fearful as they were curious, had begun to take a queer fierce pride in “their” dragons. Every man of them, from captain to cook’s boy, loved to watch the three fly ... though none so much as Dany.

~

“Ser Jorah named Rhaegar the last dragon once. He had to have been a peerless warrior to be called that, surely?”

“Your Grace,” said Whitebeard, “the Prince of Dragonstone was a most puissant warrior, but ...”

“Go on,” she urged. “You may speak freely to me.”

~

“...A change in the wind may bring the gift of victory.” He glanced at Ser Jorah. “Or a lady’s favor knotted round an arm.”

Mormont’s face darkened. “Be careful what you say, old man.”

Arstan had seen Ser Jorah fight at Lannisport, Dany knew, in the tourney Mormont had won with a lady’s favor knotted round his arm. He had won the lady too; Lynesse of House Hightower, his second wife, highborn and beautiful ... but she had ruined him, and abandoned him, and the memory of her was bitter to him now. “Be gentle, my knight.” She put a hand on Jorah’s arm. “Arstan had no wish to give offense, I’m certain.”

~

“A queen must listen to all,” she reminded him. “The highborn and the low, the strong and the weak, the noble and the venal. One voice may speak you false, but in many there is always truth to be found.” She had read that in a book.

~

“It seems to me that a queen who trusts no one is as foolish as a queen who trusts everyone. Every man I take into my service is a risk, I understand that, but how am I to win the Seven Kingdoms without such risks? Am I to conquer Westeros with one exile knight and three Dothraki bloodriders?”

A Clash of Kings

ACOK Daenerys V

“Make way,” Aggo shouted, while Jhogo sniffed at the air suspiciously. “I smell it, Khaleesi,” he called. “The poison water.” The Dothraki distrusted the sea and all that moved upon it. Water that a horse could not drink was water they wanted no part of. They will learn, Dany resolved. I braved their sea with Khal Drogo. Now they can brave mine.

~

The brass merchant was still rolling on the ground. She went to him and helped him to his feet. “Were you stung?”

“No, good lady,” he said, shaking, “or else I would be dead. But it touched me, aieeee, when it fell from the box it landed on my arm.” He had soiled himself, she saw, and no wonder.

She gave him a silver for his trouble and sent him on his way before she turned back to the old man with the white beard.

ACOK Daenerys III

They must weigh twice what they had in Vaes Tolorro. Even so, it would be years before they were large enough to take to war. And they must be trained as well, or they will lay my kingdom waste. For all her Targaryen blood, Dany had not the least idea of how to train a dragon.

~

“The Pureborn refused you?”

“As you said they would. Come, sit, give me your counsel.”

ACOK Daenerys II

The Dothraki sacked cities and plundered kingdoms, they did not rule them. Dany had no wish to reduce King’s Landing to a blackened ruin full of unquiet ghosts. She had supped enough on tears. I want to make my kingdom beautiful, to fill it with fat men and pretty maids and laughing children. I want my people to smile when they see me ride by, the way Viserys said they smiled for my father.

But before she could do that she must conquer.

~

Beneath Dany's gentle fingers, green Rhaegal stared at the stranger with eyes of molten gold. When his mouth opened, his teeth gleamed like black needles. "When does your ship return to Westeros, Captain?" 

"Not for a year or more, I fear. From here the Cinnamon Wind sails east, to make the trader's circle round the Jade Sea." 

"I see," said Dany, disappointed. "I wish you fair winds and good trading, then. You have brought me a precious gift."

~

Dany laughed. "And will see more of them one day, I hope. Come to me in King's Landing when I am on my father's throne, and you shall have a great reward."

ACOK Daenerys I

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 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, yet it was her dragons she feared for.

~

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.

A Game of Thrones

AGOT Daenerys X

“You will be my khalasar,” she told them. “I see the faces of slaves. I free you. Take off your collars. Go if you wish, no one shall harm you. If you stay, it will be as brothers and sisters, husbands and wives.” The black eyes watched her, wary, expressionless. “I see the children, women, the wrinkled faces of the aged. I was a child yesterday. Today I am a woman. Tomorrow I will be old. To each of you I say, give me your hands and your hearts, and there will always be a place for you.”

AGOT Daenerys IX

“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.”

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 Stormhorn, 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.”

AGOT Daenerys VIII

“He fell from his horse,” Haggo said, staring down. His broad face was impassive, but his voice was leaden.

“You must not say that,” Dany told him. “We have ridden far enough today. We will camp here.”

~

“We must bathe him,” she said stubbornly. She must not allow herself to despair. “Irri, have the tub brought at once. Doreah, Eroeh, find water, cool water, he’s so hot.” He was a fire in human skin.

[...] While the bath was being prepared, Dany knelt awkwardly beside her lord husband, her belly great with their child within. She undid his braid with anxious fingers, as she had on the night he’d taken her for the first time, beneath the stars. His bells she laid aside carefully, one by one. He would want them again when he was well, she told herself.

~

“Help him,” Dany pleaded. “For the love you say you bear me, help him now.”

[...] “Your khal is good as dead, Princess.”

“No, he can’t die, he mustn’t, it was only a cut.” Dany took his large callused hand in her own small ones, and held it tight between them. “I will not let him die ...”

~

Dany hugged herself. “But why?” she cried plaintively. “Why should they kill a little baby?”

“He is Drogo’s son, and the crones say he will be the stallion who mounts the world. It was prophesied. Better to kill the child than to risk his fury when he grows to manhood.”

The child kicked inside her, as if he had heard. Dany remembered the story Viserys had told her, of what the Usurper’s dogs had done to Rhaegar’s children. His son had been a babe as well, yet they had ripped him from his mother’s breast and dashed his head against a wall. That was the way of men. “They must not hurt my son!” she cried. “I will order my khas to keep him safe, and Drogo’s bloodriders will—”

~

Dany did not want to go back to Vaes Dothrak and live the rest of her life among those terrible old women, yet she knew that the knight spoke the truth. Drogo had been more than her sun-and-stars; he had been the shield that kept her safe. “I will not leave him,” she said stubbornly, miserably. She took his hand again. “I will not.”

~

“This is your work, maegi,” Qotho said. Haggo laid his fist across Mirri’s cheek with a meaty smack that drove her to the ground. Then he kicked her where she lay.

“Stop it!” Dany screamed.

~

“So you have saved me once more.”

“And now you must save him,” Dany said. “Please ...”

[...] “All I can do now is ease the dark road before him, so he might ride painless to the night lands. He will be gone by morning.”

Her words were a knife through Dany’s breast. What had she ever done to make the gods so cruel? She had finally found a safe place, had finally tasted love and hope. She was finally going home. And now to lose it all ... “No,” she pleaded. “Save him, and I will free you, I swear it. You must know a way ... some magic, some ...”

~

She told herself she would die for him, if she must. She was the blood of the dragon, she would not be afraid. Her brother Rhaegar had died for the woman he loved.

~

She caught him by the shoulder, but Qotho shoved her aside. Dany fell to her knees, crossing her arms over her belly to protect the child within.

~

Someone threw a stone, and when Dany looked, her shoulder was torn and bloody. “No,” she wept, “no, please, stop it, it’s too high, the price is too high.” More stones came flying. She tried to crawl toward the tent, but Cohollo caught her. Fingers in her hair, he pulled her head back and she felt the cold touch of his knife at her throat. “My baby,” she screamed, and perhaps the gods heard, for as quick as that, Cohollo was dead. Aggo’s arrow took him under the arm, to pierce his lungs and heart.

AGOT Daenerys VII

The town was afire, black plumes of smoke roiling and tumbling as they rose into a hard blue sky. Beneath broken walls of dried mud, riders galloped back and forth, swinging their long whips as they herded the survivors from the smoking rubble. The women and children of Ogo’s khalasar walked with a sullen pride, even in defeat and bondage; they were slaves now, but they seemed not to fear it. It was different with the townsfolk. Dany pitied them; she remembered what terror felt like. Mothers stumbled along with blank, dead faces, pulling sobbing children by the hand. There were only a few men among them, cripples and cowards and grandfathers.

~

Ogo and his son had shared the high bench with her lord husband at the naming feast where Viserys had been crowned, but that was in Vaes Dothrak, beneath the Mother of Mountains, where every rider was a brother and all quarrels were put aside. It was different out in the grass. Ogo’s khalasar had been attacking the town when Khal Drogo caught him. She wondered what the Lamb Men had thought, when they first saw the dust of their horses from atop those cracked-mud walls. Perhaps a few, the younger and more foolish who still believed that the gods heard the prayers of desperate men, took it for deliverance.

Across the road, a girl no older than Dany was sobbing in a high thin voice as a rider shoved her over a pile of corpses, facedown, and thrust himself inside her. Other riders dismounted to take their turns. That was the sort of deliverance the Dothraki brought the Lamb Men.

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

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

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

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

Behind them, the girl being raped made a heartrending sound, a long sobbing wail that went on and on and on. Dany’s hand clenched hard around the reins, and she turned the silver’s head. “Make them stop,” she commanded Ser Jorah.

“Khaleesi?” The knight sounded perplexed.


“You heard my words,” she said. “Stop them.” She spoke to her khas in the harsh accents of Dothraki. “Jhogo, Quaro, you will aid Ser Jorah. I want no rape.”

The warriors exchanged a baffled look.

Jorah Mormont spurred his horse closer. “Princess,” he said, “you have a gentle heart, but you do not understand. This is how it has always been. Those men have shed blood for the khal. Now they claim their reward.”

Across the road, the girl was still crying, her high singsong tongue strange to Dany’s ears. The first man was done with her now, and a second had taken his place.

“She is a lamb girl,” Quaro said in Dothraki. “She is nothing, Khaleesi. The riders do her honor. The Lamb Men lay with sheep, it is known.”

“It is known,” her handmaid Irri echoed.

“It is known,” agreed Jhogo, astride the tall grey stallion that Drogo had given him. “If her wailing offends your ears, Khaleesi, Jhogo will bring you her tongue.” He drew his arakh.

“I will not have her harmed,” Dany said. “I claim her. Do as I command you, or Khal Drogo will know the reason why.”

“Ai, Khaleesi,” Jhogo replied, kicking his horse. Quaro and the others followed his lead, the bells in their hair chiming.

“Go with them,” she commanded Ser Jorah.

“As you command.” The knight gave her a curious look. “You are your brother’s sister, in truth.”

“Viserys?” She did not understand.

“No,” he answered. “Rhaegar.” He galloped off.

~

Mormont pulled the girl off the pile of corpses and wrapped her in his blood-spattered cloak. He led her across the road to Dany. “What do you want done with her?”

The girl was trembling, her eyes wide and vague. Her hair was matted with blood. “Doreah, see to her hurts. You do not have a rider’s look, perhaps she will not fear you. The rest, with me.” She urged the silver through the broken wooden gate.

It was worse inside the town. Many of the houses were afire, and the jaqqa rhan had been about their grisly work. Headless corpses filled the narrow, twisty lanes. They passed other women being raped. Each time Dany reined up, sent her khas to make an end to it, and claimed the victim as slave. One of them, a thick-bodied, flat-nosed woman of forty years, blessed Dany haltingly in the Common Tongue, but from the others she got only flat black stares. They were suspicious of her, she realized with sadness; afraid that she had saved them for some worse fate.

“You cannot claim them all, child,” Ser Jorah said, the fourth time they stopped, while the warriors of her khas herded her new slaves behind her.

“I am khaleesi, heir to the Seven Kingdoms, the blood of the dragon,” Dany reminded him. “It is not for you to tell me what I cannot do.” Across the city, a building collapsed in a great gout of fire and smoke, and she heard distant screams and the wailing of frightened children.

~

He started to reach out a hand to Daenerys, but as he lifted his arm Drogo grimaced in sudden pain and turned his head.

Dany could almost feel his agony. The wounds were worse than Ser Jorah had led her to believe. “Where are the healers?” she demanded. [...] “Why do they not attend the khal?”

“The khal sent the hairless men away, Khaleesi,” old Cohollo assured her.

[...] “It is not for Khal Drogo to wait,” she proclaimed. “Jhogo, seek out these eunuchs and bring them here at once.”

~

“The khal needs no help from women who lie with sheep,” barked Qotho. “Aggo, cut out her tongue.”

Aggo grabbed her hair and pressed a knife to her throat. Dany lifted a hand. “No. She is mine. Let her speak.”

~

“The Great Shepherd sent me to earth to heal his lambs, wherever I might find them.”

Qotho gave her a stinging slap. “We are no sheep, maegi.”


“Stop it,” Dany said angrily. “She is mine. I will not have her harmed.”

~

“Know this, wife of the Lamb God. Harm the khal and you suffer the same.” He drew his skinning knife and showed her the blade.

“She will do no harm.” Dany felt she could trust this old, plainfaced woman with her flat nose; she had saved her from the hard hands of her rapers, after all.

 AGOT Daenerys VI

She saw a beautiful feathered cloak from the Summer Isles, and took it for a gift. [...] When Doreah looked longingly at a fertility charm at a magician’s booth, Dany took that too and gave it to the handmaid, thinking that now she should find something for Irri and Jhiqui as well.

AGOT Daenerys V

Dany had not known, had not even suspected. “Then ... he should have them. He does not need to steal them. He had only to ask. He is my brother ... and my true king.”

“He is your brother,” Ser Jorah acknowledged.

“You do not understand, ser,” she said. “My mother died giving me birth, and my father and my brother Rhaegar even before that. I would never have known so much as their names if Viserys had not been there to tell me. He was the only one left. The only one. He is all I have.” ~

A sense of dread closed around her heart. “Go to him,” she commanded Ser Jorah. “Stop him. Bring him here. Tell him he can have the dragon’s eggs if that is what he wants.” The knight rose swiftly to his feet.

“Where is my sister?” Viserys shouted, his voice thick with wine. “I’ve come for her feast. How dare you presume to eat without me? No one eats before the king. Where is she? The whore can’t hide from the dragon.”

~

Her voice made Viserys turn his head, and he saw her for the first time. “There she is,” he said, smiling. He stalked toward her, slashing at the air as if to cut a path through a wall of enemies, though no one tried to bar his way.

“The blade ... you must not,” she begged him. “Please, Viserys. It is forbidden. Put down the sword and come share my cushions. There’s drink, food ... is it the dragon’s eggs you want? You can have them, only throw away the sword.”

~

Distantly, as from far away, Dany heard her handmaid Jhiqui sobbing in fear, pleading that she dared not translate, that the khal would bind her and drag her behind his horse all the way up the Mother of Mountains. She put her arm around the girl. “Don’t be afraid,” she said. “I shall tell him.”

AGOT Daenerys IV

Dany followed on her silver, escorted by Ser Jorah Mormont and her brother Viserys, mounted once more. After the day in the grass when she had left him to walk back to the khalasar, the Dothraki had laughingly called him Khal Rhae Mhar, the Sorefoot King. Khal Drogo had offered him a place in a cart the next day, and Viserys had accepted. In his stubborn ignorance, he had not even known he was being mocked; the carts were for eunuchs, cripples, women giving birth, the very young and the very old. That won him yet another name: Khal Rhaggat, the Cart King. Her brother had thought it was the khal’s way of apologizing for the wrong Dany had done him. She had begged Ser Jorah not to tell him the truth, lest he be shamed. The knight had replied that the king could well do with a bit of shame ... yet he had done as she bid. It had taken much pleading, and all the pillow tricks Doreah had taught her, before Dany had been able to make Drogo relent and allow Viserys to rejoin them at the head of the column.

~

“So many,” she said as her silver stepped slowly onward, “and from so many lands.”

Viserys was less impressed. “The trash of dead cities,” he sneered. [...] “All these savages know how to do is steal the things better men have built ... and kill.” He laughed. “They do know how to kill. Otherwise I’d have no use for them at all.”

“They are my people now,” Dany said. “You should not call them savages, brother.”

“The dragon speaks as he likes,” Viserys said ... in the Common Tongue.

~

“I will give my brother his gifts tonight,” she decided as Jhiqui was washing her hair. “He should look a king in the sacred city. Doreah, run and find him and invite him to sup with me.” Viserys was nicer to the Lysene girl than to her Dothraki handmaids, perhaps because Magister Illyrio had let him bed her back in Pentos. “Irri, go to the bazaar and buy fruit and meat. Anything but horseflesh.”

“Horse is best,” Irri said. “Horse makes a man strong.”

“Viserys hates horsemeat.”

[...] While her handmaids prepared the meal, Dany laid out the clothing she’d had made to her brother’s measure: a tunic and leggings of crisp white linen, leather sandals that laced up to the knee, a bronze medallion belt, a leather vest painted with fire-breathing dragons. The Dothraki would respect him more if he looked less a beggar, she hoped, and perhaps he would forgive her for shaming him that day in the grass. He was still her king, after all, and her brother. They were both blood of the dragon.

She was arranging the last of his gifts—a sandsilk cloak, green as grass, with a pale grey border that would bring out the silver in his hair—when Viserys arrived, dragging Doreah by the arm. Her eye was red where he’d hit her. “How dare you send this whore to give me commands,” he said. He shoved the handmaid roughly to the carpet.

The anger took Dany utterly by surprise. “I only wanted ... Doreah, what did you say?”

“Khaleesi, pardons, forgive me. I went to him, as you bid, and told him you commanded him to join you for supper.”

“No one commands the dragon,” Viserys snarled. “I am your king! I should have sent you back her head!”

The Lysene girl quailed, but Dany calmed her with a touch. “Don’t be afraid, he won’t hurt you. Sweet brother, please, forgive her, the girl misspoke herself, I told her to ask you to sup with me, if it pleases Your Grace.” She took him by the hand and drew him across the room. “Look. These are for you.”

Viserys frowned suspiciously. “What is all this?”

“New raiment. I had it made for you.” Dany smiled shyly.

He looked at her and sneered. “Dothraki rags. Do you presume to dress me now?”

“Please ... you’ll be cooler and more comfortable, and I thought ... maybe if you dressed like them, the Dothraki ... ” Dany did not know how to say it without waking his dragon.

“Next you’ll want to braid my hair.”

“I’d never ... ” Why was he always so cruel? She had only wanted to help. “You have no right to a braid, you have won no victories yet.”

It was the wrong thing to say. Fury shone from his lilac eyes, yet he dared not strike her, not with her handmaids watching and the warriors of her khas outside. Viserys picked up the cloak and sniffed at it. “This stinks of manure. Perhaps I shall use it as a horse blanket.”

“I had Doreah sew it specially for you,” she told him, wounded. “These are garments fit for a khal.” “I am the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, not some grass-stained savage with bells in his hair,” Viserys spat back at her. He grabbed her arm. “You forget yourself, slut. Do you think that big belly will protect you if you wake the dragon?”

His fingers dug into her arm painfully and for an instant Dany felt like a child again, quailing in the face of his rage. She reached out with her other hand and grabbed the first thing she touched, the belt she’d hoped to give him, a heavy chain of ornate bronze medallions. She swung it with all her strength.

It caught him full in the face. Viserys let go of her. Blood ran down his cheek where the edge of one of the medallions had sliced it open. “You are the one who forgets himself,” Dany said to him. “Didn’t you learn anything that day in the grass? Leave me now, before I summon my khas to drag you out. And pray that Khal Drogo does not hear of this, or he will cut open your belly and feed you your own entrails.”

Viserys scrambled back to his feet. “When I come into my kingdom, you will rue this day, slut.” He walked off, holding his torn face, leaving her gifts behind him.

Drops of his blood had spattered the beautiful sandsilk cloak. Dany clutched the soft cloth to her cheek and sat cross-legged on her sleeping mats.

“Your supper is ready, Khaleesi,” Jhiqui announced.

“I’m not hungry,” Dany said sadly. She was suddenly very tired.

[asoiaf-source]

Fighting Hate with more Hate. That always works, right?

“Sansa’s fans are so defensive of her because of the rest of the fandom demonize her and hate her for no reason.” - helenakey

So then the answer is to demonize the other women characters for no reason?

Of course there are going to be ‘fans’ that hate on a character for no reason, I’ve seen people post unnecessary and unreasonable hate on many of the characters, not just Sansa, and they can be as annoying, but they are not representative of the entire fandom. Not ALL fans are hating on her, and some are just looking at the character critically. I’m new to the tumblr metas (avoided for a long time due to the toxic reputation), but i’ve been on ASOIAF forums for a long time and there are plenty of Sansa supporters, even if she is still quite a polarizing character due to how people wish to interpret her... but Sansa stans on tumblr take it to the next level!

I’ve never seen this side of her fans before, or at least so much nearly every day, and subsequently the many rebuttals! And how often they like throwing other characters under the bus, often for hypocritical reasons. Like the OP yendany said, they ignore the trauma in other characters or dismiss it as not as bad, when it is often much, much worse. They criticize and attack other female characters to prop up Sansa ‘better’ survival skills, or attribute qualities to her she doesn’t possess (I see this a lot in fanfiction, before I realized the self-insert aspect), or use her age as excuse when all the main characters are young or even younger than her. The line porcelain to ivory to steel... can really apply to any character that has to grow up and face the harsh realities of the world... so it is really hypocritical to think Sansa is special in some way for overcoming her situation, all the characters are going through the same struggle, and many have it much worse. That is where I think so much of the anti-sansa stans come from, the hypocrisy and the tearing down of other just as deserving of sympathy/empathy characters, especially other women characters. It is a weird juxtaposition, that anyone with a reasonable sense of objectivity can pick up on and often do.

I mostly see it done against Arya and Dany, the two more prominent female characters in the books (thus the 2 who draw more focus than #3 Sansa?). The two female characters GRRM is telling a lot of his story through and spending a large amount of the text (right from book 1) to develop their growth as characters and showcase their strengths, intelligence, determination, fortitude, agency, cleverness, resilience and so much more. It’s as if because the other women are not ‘pure’ or see themselves that way and stronger in personality and character that somehow their suffering doesn’t affect them as much because they are tougher and didn’t let anything that happened to them stop them from growing stronger. They aren’t dwelling in victim-hood too long before they pick themselves back up and move forward.

And yet, they cheer when Sansa starts to grow stronger... Sansa’s growth has been much slower, we are moving into book 6 and she is just starting to gain a bit of agency, but she is still heavily under the tutelage of Baelish. We will see how far she gains in the next book and if she will break with Baelish by the end of it and be a fully independent player. But her development isn’t nearly on the same scale as Daenerys and Arya. That isn’t to imply that she isn’t going to be important, but it is clear from the text that she is not one of the main focuses for GRRM, or he would have developed her faster and given her more to do. We will see how much ground he can cover in 1-2 books, but there is only so much he will be able to accomplish and have it be believable, especially with so many POVs and story lines that he needs to develop.

I actually think their attempts to (over) defend her backfire, as so many feel the need to point out the falsehoods and misinterpretations, especially when they are wildly mean-spirited and completely refutable by the text. As I traverse through the ASOIAF metas I often come across fans metas writing rebuttals to other posts, to ‘correct’ their conclusion or ‘facts’. I’ve read so many of these they are starting to get repetitive, I also read some of the Sansa-stan posts they are rebutting and, yeah I can see why so many get upset. If you don’t like it when others tears down or dismisses Sansa, why do you think fans of the other characters wouldn’t comment when you go after their favs, especially so mean-spiritedly.

I don’t think I ever felt so much negativity towards the Sansa character until I had to read so many skewed and biased metas turning her into some kind of saintly YA Disney princess type that is just too good for this cruel world. That kind of character has no place in a series like this. You can’t help but want to point out the wild inaccuracies, and it makes me feel a negativity towards a character I didn’t feel negative to before. And I don’t want to feel negative towards her, she is a Stark and I root for the Starks, especially the kids. I often defended her against those who (I feel) just don’t understand what it is like to be a preteen girl, I relate to a lot of Sansa’s weaknesses and how she feels, especially at that age, and that is her appeal (to me) - the fact that she starts off very weak.

Sansa is weak both physically and mentally, she cares too much about rank, privilege, and what others think about her, her desire to conform, for everything to be proper, and properly in their place. She has the luxury to think that way because she is a rich, pretty, noble girl who ranks at the top of society, of course she sees life as great and never questions it... she is already at the top and winning from birth. This is why (I think) she is so hard on Arya, she messes with her idea of what is proper/good/right.  Arya isn’t pretty and doesn’t try to be, she acts more boy than girl, she plays with dirty, smelly, poor children, etc... Those are all an embarrassment to Sansa and go against what a proper lady of her rank should do and care about. Once they head south, all the things Arya gets away with at home will stand out even more and reflect badly on Sansa, by association. So, she criticizes and distances herself even more, because she wants to join the elite glamorous world of the nobility.

The other girls don’t have those weaknesses, that is why they are seen as better able to cope than Sansa does.  They grow quicker and stronger faster because they are not as inhibited by what the ‘rules’ are. This isn’t a criticism of Sansa, this is an observation and I think it is the entire point of including a character like her in the story. GRRM could have followed the original outline for her, but he wanted to ‘reform/rescue’ her character and give her (I hope) a better path back to her family and happiness. I think it is GRRMs way to show how young girls should NOT romanticize noble life or being pretty will lead to a ‘perfect’ life. That thinking of yourself as a lady or being a princess/queen isn’t what is important. That marring a ‘title’ (lord/prince) or a handsome face is not enough to lead to happiness. It is what you do with your life, and how you care about others and who cares about you - that is what is important. But some Sansa fans seem to miss that and want her to have all those thing and more... they want it both ways, her to learn all those things, and yet still get all those things... a beautiful princess life clear of the harsh actions to gain it and also a happy family married to the best, more heroic and honorable man - a fairy tale ending. And that is not ASOIAF.

They are reducing her entire arc to becoming a nicer, more pure, and pretty, prize for a man to love, marry and make their queen. If so, GRRM will botch the ending of his series and all the points he *seems* to be making thus far.

A major theme (to me) in Sansa arc is her lack of value in her home and family. Sansa (to me) is like the small town girl who can’t wait to leave her family / Winterfell behind and to move to the big glamorous city (King’s Landing) and become royalty. But once she got there wasn’t able to accumulate with its more complicated and corrupt realities of the court. Even setting the cruelty of Joffrey aside (he is an aberration, not a normal example), how everyone else ostracizes or ignores her (except the hound, and to some extent Tyrion - although he isn’t all that great). The way the Tyrells treat her before and after her wedding is much more representative of how typical court life and nobility behaves normally (I think). Sansa never saw the true value of being surrounded by people who love and care about YOU and whom you can trust and rely upon - until that is all taken from her. She slowly sees how the people at court are corrupt and deceitful under all the beauty and glamor she so aspired to only after being fooled more than once, and (to me) no longer wants any part of it, but is forced to play, thanks to Baelish.

This is a point I find many of her fan miss, they think Sansa is going to learn to play the game, destroy everyone with her cunning and beauty and rise to the top to be queen or a ruler - a path which will ultimately lead to down a very dark and cynical path... but somehow they think Sansa will be different, and her rise will be more like a Disney princess story, one where she will gain power without having to sink low to do it. That is NOT the kind of book GRRM is writing.

”I’ll make them love me.” - another childish statement, you can’t make people love you, you earn love and respect. And Sansa hasn’t done that once the entire series, she hasn’t made a single friend. No one is looking to follow or fight for/beside Sansa, save Baelish, and we all know that plan is doomed to fail, as he isn’t to be trusted or relied upon and wants to use her. I would even question her friendship with Jeyne Poole as it is clear she never saw them as equals, and that is not real friendship... more like Jeyne was a companion/lady-in-waiting type.

The few people who care about her (other than family) either are working on behalf of an oath to Catelyn, or have their own ambitions/sexual desires/pity for her and not necessarily care about her for herself because she was a good and loyal friend to them. Maybe this will change in the next book, but with Baelish keeping close tabs and guiding her, who knows how well she will be able to make any genuine relationships with others given all the secrets she has to keep.

Her only realistic path to leadership is through marriage and that is hardly giving her agency as a heroic rise to a leader of a men... more like sleeping her way to the top.  Not something I want for Sansa, and I hope her ‘marriage’ to Tyrion works as plot armor against her being used like that.

Besides GRRM has kinda stressed that ‘real’ leadership comes from understanding people, observation, and experience, and not just from strategics marriage (Margaery, Cersei) or inheritance (Joffrey, Tommen, Cersei - she could prove the point all on her own :). Every leader in the book so far has to make compromises, make hard decisions and even make harsh, sometimes very bad decisions and live with those consequences. None of the characters in the series have escaped this as much as Sansa has, since so much of her story thus far is about her lack of agency, and being a pawn used by others (and to some extent she still is with Baelish). For her to make it to the end w/o doing anything and staying ‘pure’ and that is how she ends up on top, by essentially not taking many large personal risks, allowing others to do all the heavy lifting morally, mentally and physically. If winning means standing on the sidelines watching everyone else do the WORK, and just giving suggestive nudges here and there to have things turn out in your favor so you can just coast to the top (that is the Baelish way)... well, that is kinda the worst message GRRM could leave us with.

If GRRM wants Sansa to become a leader, she will have to get her hands dirty too, she will have to take great personal risks to gain power and accept the consequences good or bad that result, learn from them and move forward... otherwise it defeats one of the main points of his series and turns her into a simplistic cliche version of a character.  Every character with a POV has gone through this, it is one of the major themes in ASOIAF, a more realistic, less easy way of looking at how you obtain power and learn by experience and a series of victories and defeats. Thus far Sansa has also avoided examining her actions and how they have affected her, she either never thinks about them, changes the facts to suit her better, or blames others without seeing the part she also played... I’m not blaming her, but her action did contribute to the situation... she never seems to realize this and I feel it is going to eventually hit her hard, she has to mature and grow out of her ‘unreliable narrator’ eventually, and it must lead to something for GRRM to make it such a large part of her narrative of coping with her trauma. I assume he wrote her this way for a reason and is going to do something with it.

I’m looking forward to a darker more realistic Sansa who has more agency and understanding, and I expect her to make her own mistakes and moral compromises (well she already has, but there was some coercion - but it also means she is capable of doing so) just like all the other POVs have had to do. I also look forward to her finally owning up to her past actions and how they also contributed to where she is now. If she can’t take some personal responsibility she will never grow. That is a part of having agency, understanding how your decisions and actions affect you and others.

I wish all the back and forth would stop, cause I’m tired of seeing it in my feeds, but I guess it has been going on for years - the same arguments/rebuttals - so I guess it will continue, even after we get the next book... I think only the completion of the entire series will end some of these arguments, but who knows - after some of the meta I’ve read, there will probably be even more, lol.

Well, I wanted to comment and give my two cents, but it ended up being longer and I guess for me all this is still new and offsetting.  I guess I had more to say that I thought, even though I edited A LOT out because I wanted to keep it focused. I’ve just started to dip my toes into this crazy platform, so I’m sure this is just the tip of the toxic metas that I heard can be found here... can’t wait to read the anti-dany metas... that is sure to fill me with a sad rage as well, i know the show did her no favors, sigh....

[antirealisation]

Feel free to ignore this is you’re not comfy with answering, but I have a question about exotrauma: is it exclusive to systems? I’m a maladaptive daydreamer, and I believe I experience exotrauma because of it, but I don’t want to use the term if it’s exclusive to systems!

Sssooooo this is something I have. Complicated feelings about. :’)

Technically? No, it’s not exclusive. From the beginning it included otherkin as another likely population, as well as various sorts of spiritual things/past life memories, people traumatised by the content of their hallucinations or delusions, etc. etc. It wasn’t coined as a system-only thing.

However? You’re not the first person we’ve seen suggest extending it to maladaptive daydreaming specifically (and I mean in a non-invalidating “actually all ‘exotrauma’ is MD” way lol), and hoo boy that makes me feel preeeetty uncomfortable. Regardless of the ~*actual mechanism*~ you think is behind my own exotrauma – maybe it is “basically just daydreaming” – it feels like another thing entirely to say explicitly “This whole thing was because of my imagination,” right?

I guess I’d go with the Solipsistful Classic Answer when it comes to terminology and ask what you think the term would do for you? Something about the word “exotrauma” that’s helped me is being able to say, okay, regardless of what this is “really” from, I should be allowed to treat this as trauma. But if you attribute it so directly to your maladaptive daydreaming then, well, are there ways it’s not being adequately treated by whatever ways you’re treating said MD? Plenty of perfectly normal talk about MD includes talking about triggers for daydreaming and needing to avoid and then desensitise them, dealing with upsetting or shameful daydreams (okay, that’s less common on tumblr MaDD tags, but lmao – tumblr has a very particular Look for MaDD, unsurprisingly), etc. 

(As an aside – not that this is what you’re saying, since I don’t know your experiences at all, but something that comes to mind – I find it kinda funny when I see people attribute all exotrauma to maladaptive daydreaming on the basis of calling it “intrusive thoughts/images.” Cuz, like, lol if you follow my blog for any length of time, you may see that I apparently tend towards the “numbing/avoiding” side of things, with a bonus of “pervasively changed system of meanings & relating to people” (though presumably that’s more a complex exotrauma thing). Just, that’s something that often gets lost along the way in talking about trauma hahah.)

Again, I don’t know exactly what experiences you’re struggling with yourself, but I’ve definitely read more than my fair share of descriptions by maladaptive daydreamers (read: have sought out said descriptions 🙃) and come away thinking, “I see why people might consider my own experiences basically just a version of this.” So I guess, is there anything beyond what you might call “a symptom of maladaptive daydreaming” that would make sense to call “a symptom of exotrauma”?

I get similarly twitchy when people get too close to connecting delusions and exotrauma, in the sense of calling exotrauma a Type of delusion even if they’re not technically speaking negatively about delusions. Because, well, if you have someone who considers themselves exotraumatised but then recovers entirely through antipsychotics or through the CBT-oriented stuff usually suggested for MD? What does that do for the argument by fictive-types that, hey, maybe this should be taken seriously as trauma, treated via trauma-informed methods, etc.? Why call it trauma at all?

I’m. Trying my best not to be invalidating here, so sorry if anything comes off that way. 🙃 Your experiences are your own – I’m just rambling about word choice and connotations, but I’m not the only one who uses the word, soooo what authority do I have, I guess, at the end of the day.

[freechoicedreamer]

Body and Soul (Ch. 12)

AO3

Opening Theme

“Your hands, your hands, Fall upon mine as waves upon the sands. O, soft as moonlight on the evening rose, That but to moonlight will its sweet unclose, Your hands, your hands, Fall upon mine, and my hands open as That evening primrose opens when the hot hours pass. Your hands, your hands, They are like towers that in far southern lands Look at pale dawn over gloom-valley'd miles, White temple towers that gleam through mist at whiles. Your hands, your hands, With the south wind fall kissing on my brow, And all past joy and future is summed in this great 'Now!”

(John Freeman, Hands)

*

Enchanted Mountains, Arendelle

Long and strong hands were the first attributes to catch Anna and Kristoff's attention. The baby searching eyes, curiously looking at his parents, and his hair, so pale that looked like a white down covering the white skin, came later. But the hands defined Handy, whose previously chosen name, Aatami, was immediately discarded as soon as the proud and exhausted new parents -Anna's labor lasted 10 hours! - laid their eyes on the little boy.

"Feet and hands of a climber..." declares his aunt as she bends over the crib, examining the newborn and already completely in love, "...hmm, conquering look of who knows that already has me in his palm, isn't it my cute little baby?!"

"Gideon," Anna turns to her sister's husband, who was watching the scene from a distance, "you've got competition!"

"No, if we consider that I'm in love with Elsa's loving way with your son, Anna…" he confesses already totally comfortable in expressing his feelings for Elsa in front of her sister and brother-in-law.

Elsa turns to look at Gideon sideways and smiles covertly. To their innermost sphere of friends their shyness and need to preserve the aura of mystery surrounding their relationship has given way to the relaxation of a 'let it go', although both still react with a barely-disguised surprise before public demonstrations of affection coming from the other. But what is better is that, as a reaction, no one else is surprised by them. Even out of their circle, as two public figures they have truly become an item, an emblem for a consolidated couple with private life out of the spotlight - everyone understands and respects their choice. (The same discreteness does not apply for more outgoing personalities, such as Anna’s, who is only curbed by Kristoff's more down-to-earth, practical way).

The royal palace is now divided into three wings. For housing the two new families in a more independent way, each sister occupies one of the two private wings, which in practice corresponds to twin homes, while the third wing is also divided into two sectors, one for the administrative activities of the Enchanted Mountains and the other for those related to the Ministry of Adventure Tourism.

As suggested by Belle, Gideon and Elsa actually chose to keep two residences, the other in his castle - arrangement that, in practice, doesn't change much for them because both palaces are located in the same enchanted land and the time to switch from one to another literally corresponds to the time spent at the flick of a finger.

"I've heard that Jasmine and Aladdin have welcome their little baby girl less than a week ago - which means all royal babies that spent Operation B&S in their mommies' wombs have already been born," Gideon tells them, moving to sit at the armchair close to the fireplace, "and we still need heating in late April, quite impressive…" he grumbles through his teeth.

"We are in the highest mountains, Gideon," Elsa joins him, "and in the highest latitudes…"

"The latitudes could be higher, though…" Kristoff sighs sitting close to Anna.

"What do you mean?" Elsa asks intrigued, "Arendelle is on the northernmost border."

"He means there is more beyond the frontier, higher mountains, even… He means Canada, for example, just to remain close to where we are…" Anna explains.

"But then we would have to cross the magic barrier. Of course I know that the world doesn't end on the border, but I'm not used to think beyond Maine," Elsa justifies her question.

"I think that when we think on adventure we can’t think on these limits.” Anna defends hers and Kristoff’s point of view, “and we are not alone, know that there are those that refuse to be caged in.”

“I get what you mean,” Gideon nods reticent.

“You do? You mean in a literal sense or in metaphorical one?” Kristoff questions him.

“In both senses, they refer to explorers. In a metaphoric sense, those thinking about going beyond the borders are like the eyes of an imaginative child, to give you just an example. In common with those in the literal sense they aim at exploring our world and learning, each day, how much wider it is than they thought the day before. Explorers are a self-fulfiller, self-motivated, self-driven, and self-sufficient. Independence is their hallmark...”

Smiling dreamily, Anna whispers, “Kris, remind me to ask Gideon to write the flyers for Summer vacations…”

Still wondering about what Anna said before, Elsa finally asks, “Anna, what do you mean by not being alone - am I sensing a new rebellion being forged?”

“Of course not,” Anna responds while accommodating the baby on her lap to breastfeed him. “I was referring to a recurring topic of conversations in taverns, restaurants, family reunions, especially since the shelter gatherings. During Operation B&S people talked a lot, being confined as they were, you know?"

"You mean… Operation B&S awakened the seeker?" Elsa asks.

"More than that, sis. During Operation B&S Kristoff and I ran a research in some shelters with two groups of adults: Younger and between 30 to 40. You didn't see it because you spent a lot of time at a kids' shelter... Anyway, compiling the answers we came to the conclusion that among us there are more wanderers, pilgrims and iconoclasts than we imagined - which is good for the Ministry. Borrowing Gideon's term, we identified a lot of explorers, people seeking to escape the confines of their average life by traveling the world or exploring its many mysteries."

"That's interesting… and to think you haven't sampled the two segments with the highest concentration of explorers: kids and teens. Anyway, better not explore this subject too much. Transposing the borders could have unpredictable consequences, there are plenty of places to explore within the Realms, so many that would take many lifetimes to explore them all…" Gideon reasons.

"Sure," Kristoff intervenes, "Anna's concern is with conformity - it reminds me how we, when children, loved to learn about the world. But don't worry, we are all good, no rebellion in sight… With Handy and within the realms we already have a lot of fun in the horizon. After the many events - fairs, festivals and tournaments - among many other tourism activities planned for this Summer, our next achievable goal is to activate the underground canals' maze for guided tours, perhaps this Autumn…"

"Wait a minute," Elsa cuts him, "but the maze... how to cross it without magic runes?"

"Well, good thing the Trolls are our friends, isn't it?" Kristoff winks, "we promised them to not include the Valley of the Living Rock in any tour package, in other words, to leave them in peace and alone, and in exchange they have drawn a few sketches of the maze. Grand Pabbie, Bulda, Cliff, Little Rock, and Goth - all of them are helping."

"The only thing holding back the project is the restoration of Wish Rumple's Castle. It's progressing slowly but we understand that its cleaning is complex and involves more than healing a build. As you know, Archie and Wish Regina are using the restoration as a recovery treatment for both Felixes and that requires another timing." Anna remembers. "Once the castle is ready, which I suppose will happen by autumn-winter, we'll be able to open the first United Realms Ski Resort. If it wasn't for Handy I'd be anxious, but now I'm not in such a hurry, every minute of this cuddly is precious and I want to enjoy it intensely," she says, looking tenderly at the baby breast feeding on her...

Enchanted Mountains, Wish Rumple's Castle

After its last residents, the old castle was left in ruins metaphorically comparable to the mental tissue deterioration of the newest pair of wish-nonwish twins. One of them, actually, ended up earning a new chance for living on Earth but in common both were lacking in emotional stability and life purpose. For this reason, Archie and Wish Regina, working together to socially reintegrate the two men - two adults too far away from their Lost Boys time, decided to develop for them a special rehabilitation program. This way, Felix and Wish Felix were enlisted as constructor apprentices in the Wish Rumple's Castle Restoration Project.

"They'll need many years of therapy," Archie diagnosed, but in order for them to become socially integrated, the participation in this project will give them a feeling of being useful, it will be good for their self-esteem, among other more audacious goals I hope they manage to achieve. But make no mistake, we are dealing with two cases of deep trauma."

"Luckily, the first steps have already been overcome," Archie continued to explain to those deciding over the guys' fate, "I mean, for their real therapy to begin they had to start walking the right path: both have already admitted that for them it is no longer a matter of blaming the father and mother figures standing in their way, as they used to do as Lost Boys - it is on them, the blame. Even this realization, helpful as it is, somehow is still a bit negative because it simply states that they realize that their parents are not against them, they are."

"I'm not sure if I got what you're saying. Who/what inner part is against them?" Killian questioned. "Is there a hidden part of their personality under the father and mother images making them believe for years that the cause of most of their trouble might somehow have got into them from outside?"

"Before answering this question, let's remember that we are dealing with two traumas interconnected. Besides the father-mother issue, cultivated for centuries in both Neverlands by each Felix -  I'm naming it 'the Lost Boy Trauma', there is another equally (perhaps even more) important part: their unresolved sexuality. Despite their loyalty to their lovers' evilness, the misdirection of their sexual energy, the unhealthy development of their libido in an abusive and secret relationship never allowed to come out in the open and, which is worse, their true love and devotion, all of that ended up in betrayal, abandonment and feelings of hatred and sexual rejection. So, basically, in a second pack, there is the 'Pan/Malcom Trauma'. While Pan can be seen as Malcom's pedophile side disguised as a boy, each Felix must be seen only as Felix, they went to Neverland during their adolescence, not as a perverted adult reverted to a boy's age. That said, Killian, to answer your question, their inner hidden part fighting against them is the counterpart of their conscious attitude. The unconscious side will leave them no peace and will continue to plague them until it has been accepted. If they were younger a liberation from the past could be enough and a beckoning future would naturally stand ahead rich in possibilities, it would be then sufficient to break a few bonds and the life-urge would do the rest. But in Felixes' cases, they are not really as "young" as their bodies seem to be, the challenges are complex, the stakes are higher."

"In this case, what will be your approach for treating them, Archie?" Key asked.

"I'll illustrate with a metaphor, Key: the butterfly's metamorphosis, this is what I plan to explore during the treatment - a transformational process that might need to be extended over a considerable period of time, during which both Felixes will find themselves living in the very foundations of a world under construction. So, in this sense, I plan to get them involved in the process of restoration of the castle as a metaphor for the life-changing transformation they have to face, a massive reorganization of attitude, behavior, and sense of meaning similar to the massive reorganization of the chaos left by the Pans and Cruellas. Being there, working with their hands in the cleaning and reorganization of the rooms, helping to transform it into a Ski Resort, will trigger their singular encounter with a transformative image after transforming their major life traumas. The castle restoration will take months but for them their own metamorphosis, or transformation, will probably take years to become complete. When there is such a major passage, one can think in terms of the passing over (meta, trans) from one form (morph, form) to another."

...

Wish Regina is now married to Liam Senior, who decided to remain in land with her and Roland (though sometimes the young man visits his father and Regina and stays for a while with them). Besides their work on the Social Welfare Ministry, Liam and Wish Regina run, nearby their Enchanted Seashore house, a restaurant, The Sentinel, and a small hostel which is frequently the in-land home of the Nautilus' crew. Within her duties as Minister, once a week W. Regina travels to W. Rumple's castle taking Tink, W. Tink and the two Felixes with her. They are left there during the five working days, together with architects, bricklayers, carpenters, plumbers, electricians and painters, working on restoring the castle - left in ruins by the Pans and Cruellas - and creating a completely new place. During the weekends they return to Storybrooke and remain in a Detoxing Clinic.

Under the  supervision of the two Fairies, their old acquaintances from both Neverlands, the ex-lovers of Pan and Wish Pan are responsible for cleaning the aura of the old castle, which is done through meditation exercises. For that, by acting on their own aura, cleaning the energy field that covers their entire bodies and protecting their spirits from the energies that surround them, they become energy generators producing purifying fields for the environment. This way, their  psychic irradiation acts to clean the castle aura. The principle the Fairies use is a combination of mindfulness and meditation applied through simple exercises based on three techniques that greatly help to eliminate negative energies: 1) absorbing sunshine; 2) purifying energies through the crystal clear water of the underground rivers; and 3) just lying in a comfortable place where they can have time for themselves, without being disturbed, to empty their minds and relax their bodies.

In the beginning, only the two Felixes and the two Tinks took part of the exercises but soon the others joined their sessions, usually happening early in the morning, at noon and in the evening. With such a good camaraderie being established, Felix started to help the carpenters and Wish Felix, the  painters (the fairies opted to work on the kitchen). These new developments have already showed the first signs of their past traumas' healing.

...

The Felix case rekindled the debates over the activation of the Ministry of Justice - which had been set up with the other ministries but the post had not yet been occupied. Regina, since Robin's return, has been completely refreshed and enthusiastic about the UR activities, and although accumulating the Justice post, she was the first to suggest that a new minister should be appointed. Some names were thought of, but all opinions converged when someone mentioned the name of Emma Swan-Jones…

For Emma, more than a Poetic Justice, the nomination was the crowning of a life trajectory, of a heroic journey marked by being a product of True Love in an unique configuration, back to old times at the Enchanted Forest. Above all, more than a tale written by the Fates, everybody agreed that she would be a natural in managing matters pertinent to the judiciary, police, maintenance and defense of human rights. Besides, having her beloved Captain by her side, leading the intelligence bureau of all realms, would be the icing on the cake.

By her turn, on numerous occasions Emma had already assisted Wish Regina at the Social Welfare Ministry, especially in the project most dear to her - Childhood & Adolescence, but she was somewhat reluctant to accept the invitation for a major ministerial role. Eventually she decided in favor of it once a few conditions were fulfilled satisfactorily. For that, Cruella's house was finally given a purpose after the clones were removed from it. Emma and Killian's goal was to remain in Storybrooke, close to their relatives and to the sea, and that was made possible when the Justice Ministry started to operate in the old mansion after another restoration project was carried out on it. The energy cleansing process adopted was similar to the one being performed at Wish Rumple's Castle - an Astral Healing Operation, but to a lesser extent given the different scales of the two buildings.

All in all, six and a half months after Operation B&S, everyone is starting to rationalize with their minds what has already been felt by their hearts: the astral field is cleaner now and a new energetic balance is gradually being achieved in the Upperworld Realms...

Olympus, Persephone's Garden

In the past, Persephone had a garden of ever blooming flowers in the Underworld but that changed after Hades' descent into madness and villainy - nothing else could flourish there. For Persephone, however, with the half-yearly change of scenery, a garden at Olympus would always bloom and produce her favorite fruit, pomegranate, upon her return to the Upperworld in spring.

The pomegranate is a fruit-bearing deciduous shrub fruit that has been used throughout history and in virtually every religion as a symbol of humanity’s central beliefs and ideals, namely, life and death, rebirth and eternal life, fertility and marriage, and abundance. For the goddess, it features prominently in the story of her marriage to Hades. Hades kidnapped Persephone and took her to the Underworld to be his wife. Persephone’s mother, Demeter, goddess of fertility, considering her daughter lost, went into mourning and thus all things on earth ceased to grow. Zeus, Persephone’s father, commanded his brother Hades to release her, however Hades had tricked her into eating six pomegranate seeds, and it was a Fate's rule, later repealed, that anyone who consumed food or drink in the Underworld was doomed to spend eternity there. Since Persephone had eaten the six pomegranate seeds, she had to remain in the Underworld for six months of the year. Hades agreed to release her to the world above for the other six months of the year, to be reunited with her mother.  

...

For the gods, after the normalization of Nectar and Ambrosia production, the experience of being mortal became just a memory. But an unforgettable one, forever altering the way they view life and death. Apart from long philosophical discussions, however, in practice the cycles of seasons continue to follow, and with them, the time for Persephone's return to Olympus after the long winter.

Walking with her mother, Demeter, in their exuberant garden, Persephone reviews the events of the last period spent in the Underworld, probably the most intense and original of her entire existence.

“So far the total rebel souls count has surpassed 150,000, a surprising number. Arthur still suspects that there are some runaway souls hiding in the dry woods around Underbrooke, but no one to be found at the basements and sewers anymore. The rebellion leaders who refused to undergo a recovery program have returned to Tartarus and are now sharing the best-kept Titans' sector. I believe some of those who opted to cooperate can still be regenerated, such as Facilier, Tamara, Greg and a few others who showed signs of a slight regret - and you know that under my sight there is no way for them to fake a regret. By reading their aura I know that, ultimately, they all have as a goal drinking from the waters of Lethe to benefit from forgetfulness and to return for the reincarnation cycle. But their fates have yet to be revealed, they will be submitted to a new judgment and their new punishment will be defined. I’m advocating that there is no meaning in punishing if not for recovering but we will have to wait and see how the divine principle of Justice will be applied…”

“Remember that in some cases there is no return, my dear… By the way, what about Wish Rumple and Nimue? Despite the very serious crimes that weigh on them, without their help our victory would have been much more complex… ” Demeter asks.

“They are hibernating, especially Nimue, she hibernates 100% of the time. Merlin went down to the Underworld, accompanied by his friend Ingrid, and they worked with Nimue's soul for several days, applying passes on her, and helped Arthur and me to set up a gradual recovery program for her, in principle for lasting almost a century. Something different from what is being applied to James Nolan, because his case is quite simpler, his soul was not so corrupted. Similarly, for Wish Rumple, Wish Belle also worked with us to define a special recovery program for him. In his case, without the need of a prolonged hibernation. He voluntarily asked to gradually replace this therapy by a work assisting Arthur after Wish Belle moves to Elysium - which is about to happen. Another of his requests was to be part of the string quartet. As I’m not there, he has already started playing, but his instrument will change after Belle leaves. I've watched only one performance but the results on his aura cleaning were encouraging.”

“Hmm, that's interesting... We could use guardian flowers to accelerate Nimue and W. Rumple’s healing processes, they could be kept by Merlin and W. Belle, their true loves: a poetic outcome in the fate of the first and the last Dark Ones...” Demeter suggests.

“What a great idea! The flowers must be Red Rose, for Rumple, and Mistletoe, for Nimue, like this!” and with a gesture, Persephone produces two crystal cylindrical domes with the flowers in them. “We just need to give them to Merlin and W. Belle. For as long as they preserve their vitality and bright, there will be hope for Nimue and Rumple’s redemption.”

“Why not go down there now and give both to Belle? She can take them with her when she moves on. And I could go with you, you know, get to know more closely the Human that has stolen my daughter’s heart….” she winks.

“What do you mean? What are you talking about?”

“Don’t deny, Persephone, it is too evident. You are in love with Arthur and that is great, I’m happy for you. You needed a King to reign with you…”

“Right…” she smiles timidly, “I confess, he really is a special man. But ours is an impossible love, Mother, he is more than mortal, he is dead man, I mean, he doesn’t have a physical body, which makes things more complicated for us.”

“Not for Zeus, you know, I have talked to him and he has agreed: if Arthur agrees he can be resurrected in a similar way as Killian Jones was. From that, if he drinks the Nectar, in a similar way as what happened to Psyche - remember her story with Eros? Well, then, if he agrees in drinking the Nectar he will be one of us, a God, the new King of the Underworld. He will reign alone when you, the Underworld Queen, come to the Upperworld during spring-summer, and he will stay with you, down there, during autumn-winter.”

“Oh, Mother!” she closes her eyes dreamily, “that would be a dream come true, a really good dream! Arthur is nothing like Hades, he is a loyal and righteous soul. Although he made a very compromising mistake in Camelot, he was the first victim of it, a consequence of Merlin's prophecy misinterpretation. He paid with his life for all his crimes and has given successive proofs of a brilliant, selfless intelligence. Not to mention that to my eyes at least he is a very handsome man and... by the way he looks at me, it seems that my feelings are reciprocated. Oh, Mother, I can't believe I've been given a chance to love and be loved again, to find physical pleasure with a god, again... " she sighs with her eyes closed, anticipating the hours of endless love and passion beside the future god. "You and my Father really made this Spring a special one for me, thank you so much!”

“I'm glad to hear you saying that, your happiness is well deserved - and I'm glad that this time, hopefully, shared with a god worthy of your love, Persephone. You have been a good queen but too lonely… So, let’s visit my future son in law, your King Arthur, and soon he will be the one feeling good. Actually, if he agrees - as I’m sure he will, he will be the one feeling god!" Demeter grins at her pun. "You know, my divine intuition is telling me that soon you will have back your garden down there: with the return of music and yours and Arthur's blossoming love I’m sure that soon the flowers will be back to Underbrooke, in a similar way as hope returned when Killian resurrected and Arthur decided to stay there. His resolution triggered the restoration of a broken kingdom, thus marking the definite end of Hades' era - Arthur being rewarded with immortality is not a favor, my dear, but an act of Justice."

Enchanted Sea, Nautilus

"Ursula, more than six months have passed and you haven't started drinking Ambrosia's Nectar yet... always with some excuse not to go to Olympus. Triton told me that he started drinking months ago..." Nemo again tries to understand Ursula's motivation for her Nectar's abstinence, trying to make her open up to him. This time, in response Ursula shrugs, smiles a mischievous smile, and finally offers him the first concrete answer about her motives: "I'll drink again if you agree to drink with me..."

Her response catches the Captain by surprise and his reaction is a plopped look, a parted mouth but no sound and, finally, a piercing look into her eyes. Before he outlines another reaction, however, W. Ariel and Junior knock at the door and announce that the last crossing point has just been unlocked during the little mermaid dive. With that, they all head to the main room for joining Harris, Martin and their guests, not without Nemo finally managing to whisper, back to Ursula, "this conversation isn’t over yet!"

...

Renewed and grateful for the new chance of a life on earth, Lieutenant Martin and Lieutenant Harris, in an eternal honeymoon, rejoined the Nautilus' crew and, for this dive into southern waters still within twenty thousand leagues boundary, they invited three new friends from their Underworld experience: Franz, from Arendelle, Theodora, from Oz, and Jefferson Hatter, accompanied by his daughter Grace. In addition to the entertainment tour for the guests, the expedition fulfills the mission of unlocking the remaining crossing points on the seabed gridline - those on Earth have already been unlocked and the telluric energies are back to flow freely.

…

Sit at a lunch table, they celebrate their mission ending while still retelling their vivid reminiscences of the Underworld. Always eloquent, Jefferson is one of the most talkative, especially when asked about his latest great adventure. “I spent a great deal of my long existence traveling between realms, crossing portals to other dimensions… I knew lands without color - just black, white and shades of gray; I explored alternate enchanted forests, distant realms, wonderlands and enchanted deserts, many of them running under different paces, but nothing prepared me for the Underworld. I couldn't say it was, in the strict sense, a bad trip, because we were received as warmly as possible given the circumstances, but the feeling of death can only be understood by those who felt and remember it!!”

“What about the Land without Magic, Papa? You never told me much about it...” Grace asks, moving to a less somber subject.

“That’s because I’ve only been there briefly, my dear. During the first curse I confess that I was tempted to move there, because being the only Storybrooke’s citizen keeping the Enchanted Forest memory, the only one who did not forget the real identity, besides Regina, was the true experience of madness. People often refer to me as the Mad Hatter, but the real madness has always been my extreme lucidity - the rest is eccentricity and legend. But then I never wanted to cross the border because I didn't want to forget you, Grace. Although the pain of being able to see you, knowing who you were, but not being recognized by you was almost unbearable, I didn't want to lose you. Later, after the first curse was broken it became possible to leave without losing my memory and I got away with it. I loved New York even though I wouldn't want to live there. But all the cosmopolitan buzz, the mix of peoples and cultures make it a city that cannot be considered without magic. Unfortunately, its problem is being in a very sick world, a very sick society. I admit that my analysis is too simplistic, but definitely their economic, political and social systems turn their world a sick land. I do not know if there is, on the whole planet within the dimension of the Land without Magic, any society or political or economic system that escapes this sickness. As a society we also have a lot of problems but nothing comparable to their reality. The United Realms creation, as a concept, is fantastic but no one can predict the long term consequences of bringing us together without portals to cross - the only outside world for us now is the Land without Magic, reachable by crossing enchanted border lines. For adventurers minds like mine crossing the UR border will be tempting, mainly for younger, explorer minds since the older ones tend to be more conservative and less curious. Besides, as we do access their world through the electromagnetic waves, we know what is going on there, though they don't access our encrypted signals - yet; we know them and their struggles but they don't know us. We know how badly they treat the planet..."

“I know that the oceans suffer a lot because of the people who inhabit the Land without Magic," W. Ariel comments. "I communicate with many sea inhabitants and they use to describe the atrocities they are subjected to: predatory hunting with institution of destruction, the greed of seabed exploration for oil extraction, nuclear tests, contamination of waters by chemical, radioactive and industrialized waste - tons of plastic waste; there are various endangered species out there... it's very sad what they tell me when they can cross the barriers that separate the Enchanted Sea from the other Oceans."

“Their armament industry forces them to live in a permanent war…” Ursula adds. “I lived there, I know quite a bit about what Jefferson said, he is absolutely right. You know, sometimes I wonder if the world would accept and respect our existence... we could help them in that case.”

“They are not prepared for accepting that those whom they classify as fictional characters are in fact real people,” Theodora explains. “I know that there have been attempts, in the past, of people from our realms who tried to explain that to them - all ended up treated as crazy people and died in an asylum.”

“I guess they would accept more easily the existence of outer space Aliens than ours!” Junior jokes.

“Even so,” Nemo ponders, “my adventurous, explorer spirit insists that there must be a way to cross the borders undetected and, once there, work anonymously and unknowingly to at least protect the natural resources of the planet - as citizens of the planet we are connected to them - if they destroy Mother Nature, they destroy themselves and ourselves!”

“Has anyone discussed the possibility of unifying the United Realms with the Land without Magic?” Franz wonders.

“That would be too problematic, Franz,” Nemo responds. “We would be seen as part of Maine, the US government wouldn't respect our independence and would want us to be subject to their command, under their taxes, laws, currency and state government’s policies. And which is worse, considering their belic industry and geopolitical/military interests, they would want to explore and use our Magic and our unique Science as a weapon - not to mention that other people would want to proclaim their cultural property to reclaim some of our kingdoms. But as we really are One, what happens in there directly or indirectly affects us. That's particularly true now. You see, we could help them during this pandemic crisis much more extensively if we weren't oblied to work anonymously.”

“We got to befriend the Shamans and their tribes,” Grace reminds them, “there is hope…”

“That is meaningful, it really is.” Franz tells Grace. “But I’ve been told by those who got to talk with the Shamans, during the Victory Celebrations, that most of their people have been decimated and their culture has been disrespected for centuries, now. They are the real Native people of the American territory, in other words the original inhabitants of the United Realms territory. Perhaps if it were for them, only, the border could be deactivated without problem. But let's face reality, we should take their experience as a reference and be prepared to defend our lifestyle and culture. From what I understood, if we opened our borders we could become an exploited freak, something like an exotic attraction. Their dominant system - capitalism, isn't it? - would see us as an absurdly great source of wealth and exploitation. That would be our end," he continues reasoning. “But I get your point, Grace, knowing that they are destroying and polluting our shared home, Mother Earth, and being here doing nothing is quite disturbing…”

“Franz is right,” Nemo agrees. “For capitalism, we would be seen as a source of profit, of power, only. Our mystical existence would be unexplainable for them. Our elements of mystery if not explorable for profit or domination could be seen as a threat to their lifestyle and religious systems, which, it seems, may enrich the understanding but rob the imagination… As for us, we use to divide the world not into different groups of objects but into different groups of connections and, based on that, my only hope of a better rapport with them comes exactly from their Modern Science and their Ancient Cultures, such as the Shamans’ - both get closer to our approach. For modern Physics, the world appears as a complicated tissue of events, in which connections of different kinds alternate or overlap or combine and thereby determine the texture of the whole. I could discuss our principles and mysteries with scientists but not with politicians and economists…”

“You are referring to Heisenberg's principle of indeterminacy, isn’t it? I read about it during the 28 years of cursed Storybrooke…” Jefferson asks. "The so-called uncertainty principle..."

“Exactly,” Nemo confirms. “Heisenberg was a congenial fellow, he emphasized that the view of nature as an object out there was quite illusory, he demonstrated that the subject was always part of the equation, that an inexorable reciprocity between subject and object existed such that the very act of observation changed irreparably what was being observed - unknowingly, he enunciated one of the principles of Magic!! That is also one of the most important paradigms of Psychology, a fundamental paradox of existence inherited precisely in the fact that the human being is both subject and object at once.”

“They would want to rob our Nectar of Ambrosia, again…” Ursula mumbles.

“Oh, that reminds me that Ursula and I have an important issue to discuss, privately. So, if you'll excuse us, my friends, you should continue the conversation without us for now. Shall we go to our quarters, Ursula, please?” Nemo addresses her, already standing up.

…

Closing their quarters door and sitting close to Ursula, Nemo turns to her, holding her hand, “Very well, Ursula… Immortality. Is that what you are offering me?”

“Yeah…” she answers timidly. “That, or the other way around, I mean, mortality for me. I can't handle any other alternative very well. I either become a mortal and follow the timeline with you, or bring you with me to the immortality line. There is no other alternative to my equation, Nemo. I wouldn't know, wouldn't resist, and wouldn't want to be eternal away from you. I have already talked to my father and Zeus, among the gods they are of the few with authority and power to allow a mortal to become immortal. They recently opened an exception for Arthur, in the Underworld, not only to resurrect him but also to make him immortal, and they will say yes to you if you agree. The final decision is yours, you are free to choose."

“I choose you, my love, my eternal love…” he closes the gap between them, caressing her arms up and down to hug her tightly, holding her chin, stroking her ear and opening his lips to kiss her soft lips as they start a sensual dance of passionate tongues as skilled and wet as the tentacles of an octopus and a nautilus curling up and merging into One in a mating ritual.

Elysium, Islands of the Blessed

Belle's farewell was gentle, full of promises and hope when she and Rumple consummated their love the day before her departure.

“Rumple, trust our love, always be guided by it, know that through our Rose, I will be always taking care of you and protecting you. Please remember, keep in your heart that ancient Greek inscription we so often read together, as the mark of our everlasting love: Time is a child - playing like a child - playing on a chessboard - the realm of the child. It is Telesphorus, who errs through the dark regions of the cosmos and shines like a star rising from the depths. It points the way to the gates of the sun and dreamland…”

“I remember,” Rumple whispers caressing her tenderly, “when we sit in our castle to read about Telesphorus, whom in Greek mythology symbolizes convalescence, the period following an illness. Perhaps, one day, if you go to Mount Olympus, you will meet him. He is the son of Asclepius, the chief god of medicine.”

“Yeah, I’ll remember that… Do you know, Rumple, why I liked so much this passage? I never told you, I guess. That is because the "disease", of which Telesphorus announces convalescence through its small lantern, is the moment of complete immersion in the unconscious, in the darkness of absolute nothingness, referred to in the Greek text as dark regions of the cosmos."

Nodding, Rumple smiles and then asks, “and have I told you before why I liked this representation of Time?” As she shakes her head, he continues, “normally time is represented by the figure of death, a sinister skull with a scythe in its hand, but here it is represented by a figure of a child: playing, illuminating our paths through the infinite sky's darkness. It is also a representation of the Self, our real being, when we finally recognize it. Telesphorus represents the time when light is rescued, he is the discrimination, the right direction during darkening situations. He is the Time at the center of consciousness.”

The tears fall as Belle closes her eyes to absorb Rumple’s words. Reopening them, she looks into his eyes. “My love, the images of time, as the skull that carries the scythe or as the child that brings the light, they refer to two types of time experience that you and I will undergo from now on. The first speaks of the linear time to which your next flesh, after your stage in Underbrooke, will be subjected, easily perceived by the external transformations manifested by the body design and the environment around it. It will be marked by birth, life, and death and is related to the causal form of thought, beginning, middle, and end. They are like deaths and rebirths. This is Kronos, which represents time related to death, a time that consumes itself. Our Love lives in Kayros, a nonlinear time. It represents those moments that transcend the limitations imposed by the fear of death in a second as vast as the infinite space. Please remember, Rumple, Kayros, in Greek, means the right time. In Latin, it corresponds to momentum, the moment that leaves a strong and unique impression throughout life without the weight of past burdens and the anxiety about the future.”

“I see…” Rumple nods barely managing to speak, also with teary eyes.

...

“I love you, ma Belle de Jour, my eternal Belle! Meet me in our Kayros, I'll be there... part of me will be always there, waiting for the Right Time when we will be together again...” Rumple waves as she slowly climbs the stairs to the Upperworld taking with her the two crystal domes with the two flowers, the symbols of Hope and Eternal Love.

…

Wish Belle died without a proper funeral ceremony - her remains were abandoned in a cell where they decomposed. Nonetheless, she was loved - much loved by everyone who knew her and it was this love that allowed her soul to have the direction it had in Underbrooke. Finally managing to steer her Unfinished Business to a good outcome, Wish Belle braced herself for the big and definite shift in her existence: the Champs Elysee. She arrives in the Islands of the Blessed through a portal that took her soul to cross her twin’s place of burial, as a kind of ritual of passage to absorb a proper burial, and is met by two friends who recently have been in the Underworld with her: Merlin and Ingrid.

“Welcome,” Ingrid tells her, extending her arms.

“Hello, Belle, welcome to your new home,” Merlin smiles, receiving the dome with Nimue’s flower and looking at it absently.

“Follow me,” Ingrid brings them both back to the present. “There is a reception party waiting for you, my dear, you will soon realize how much we enjoy a good socializing meeting with good talk, dancing, delicious meals, lots of music and peace. Above all, Belle, a lot of peace. This does not mean that we do not care about those who have not yet reached this state of mind, on the contrary. Even in the face of the pain and suffering of others, it is the serenity of our spirit that points to the paths and to the reasons why so much sadness still affects our beloved humans incarnated on Earth or in lower layers of the Underworld. Come, Belle, between us we don't have to use the prefix "wish" to distinguish ourselves, we just know who we are.”

…

Wish Belle is living with the two Baelfires, now that Milah has moved to Liam’s ship, where he already lived with Alice. Sometimes she visits her twin and brother in law, usually to borrow a new book, which she reads out loud in front of her Rose, imagining she is reading to her Rumple. Her sister took from Olympus a free pass to the Olympian Library and she is sure to have enough lecture for all eternity - both Belles don’t complain. The 'Tiltskin brothers are the best companions she could have asked for, always good humored, always gentle, always ready to talk and to day dream. They love to spend hours painting or hearing their neighbor, Aesop, narrating/creating new fables in the house he shares with Marian.

Ingrid, living with her sisters and brother in law, sometimes visits Merlin, joining Rumple, who also loves to visit the Wizard and his Apprentice, Jack, in a lab where they run experiments, discuss spells or simply talk about Life, Love, and Eternity.

Fergus and Farah, with Midas, Wish Midas and their wives share a common hobby: Midas received from the gods a wide screen similar to the Charmings', but in their case, instead of watching real life people, they prefer to marathon watching movies and series produced on the LWM.

In contrast to Midas' cine club,  Aunt Em, Ruth and Wish Ruth, being the Charming’s neighbors, are usually at their house watching their beloved ones, vibrating for them, feeling good with them...

Enchanted Sea, the Jolly Rogers

At the end of July, to celebrate the twins' third month and the first anniversary of the Sweet Suite, the much-dreamed and planned trip on the two Jolly Rogers finally became true. On a sunny Tuesday morning, the crew and passengers of the two ships departed from Storybrooke heading south, reproducing the original journey of Key and his four mates until their arrival on Heart-Shaped Island.

The preparations for the trip ran in parallel to a ministerial reform initiated with David's request to leave the Defense Ministry and to occupy the Agriculture Ministry, instead. What followed was a concatenation of changes leading to a brand new configuration. The renewed setup began to be outlined when Robin Hood assumed the Prime Minister position and soon after that several ministerial posts - previously created but not yet occupied - gained their holders, new offices and staff. As a whole, it was decided that each Ministry would have two holders to provide a better balance for them to conciliate their professional duties with their private lives.

This way, after David’s move, Emma requested Killian's release for working at the Ministry of Justice as head of the new Intelligence Bureau. Key, in turn, asked to share his time between Storybrooke Police Department and Emm's newly occupied Ministry of Art & Culture. As a leading specialist in computer science, Key naturally needed a higher freedom degree because he gradually became a consultant for all ministries but his goal is to dedicate, at least part-time, to fine arts, especially painting, and to maritime navigation - a dream shared with Killian. Besides, with his move he intended to free his wife for a part-time job thus allowing her to take care of the babies during their first year.

In the Magic Ministry Gideon gained Zelena's support after she and Chad settled back on her farm, previously occupied by Robyn and Alice. With the magic connection between the ranch and their Portland house, Zelena and Chad can better reconcile life on both worlds. Robyn and Alice, by their turn, are the newest occupants of the Loft in downtown Storybrooke.

Henry Mills joined Snow in the Education Ministry, while Chynna, besides majoring in  Psychology, took over the Communication Ministry with Sydney (her father joined Nemo in the Ministry of Science & Technology). Lily and Phileas Fog assumed the Transport Ministry in coordination with the activities ran by Aladdin and Eric at the Ministry of Industry & Trade whilst Lancelot and Naveen moved to the Defense Ministry. The complete setup diagram was emailed by Chynna to Robin a few minutes after boarding the ships and its printed version went hand in hand.

"It looks great," Snow summed it up and concluded with her characteristic optimism: “This diagram confirms that we are not leaving any critical issue behind. We are free to completely relax and indulge ourselves on the cruise to Heart Island. All aboard, settled down, great weather, two ships lined up and ready to set sail!”

Differently from the original 4-sailor team, the cruise required a bigger crew which then resulted in 6 people for each ship under the two captains Jones command. The passengers include, in addition to those connected to the original Sweet Suite events: Kristoff, Anna and Handy (their baby boy), Eric, Ariel, Anastasia, Drizella, Moe, Jack and Johanna. The other passengers are: Killian, Emma, Hope, Key, Emm, Jason, Dylan, Henry, Cindy, Lucy, W. Henry, Violet, Alice, Robyn, David, Snow, Neal, Gideon, Elsa, Robin, Regina, Roland, S. Regina, W. Robin, Coralline, W. Regina, Liam Sr, W. Ariel, Liam Jr, Ursula, Nemo, Brennan, Gepetto, August, W. Pinocchio, W. Granny, Granny, Merida, Mulan, Red, Dorothy, W. Red, W. Mulan, Tiana, Naveen, Zelena, Chad, Aladdin, Jasmine and Farah (their baby girl) - a total of 72 people, 36 on each ship: full capacity without compromising their quarters comfort.

And there they go!

...

The days have followed with tranquility: warm with a refreshing breeze blowing over the sails, propelling the vessels like two ships floating in clear days and starry nights. The passage of time has been marked by the Sweet Suite songs, played in the same order as they were originally sung and played. One of the ships, however, has been kept quieter: Key's, as the four babies are traveling on it - Jason, Dylan, Handy and Farah, four new forces of nature preparing to shine in the world. Meanwhile, on the other ship, with everyone already with their own brightness dawned, there hasn't been any restrictions for a noisier radiation of joy and promise of life.

Seen from a distance the cruise resembles perfection, but at a close inspection Snow's wish hasn't been exactly fulfilled - blame on the Internet. Although trying, they haven't been completely disconnected from the world, especially from constant threats of global pandemic and ecological imbalances reported in the news arriving from the Land without Magic, which they follow concerned.

Despite of that the Enchanted Sea and the enchanted ships, working their magic, have managed to provide a well-deserved vacation to all, entitled to a stop on Carnation Island for a heavenly feast prepared by Poseidon and Triton, who were waiting for them. Inspired by the events on the island a year ago, Ursula proposes that they rehearse a new musical number in addition to the one performed for the Sweet Suite. The result, in the end, may not have been as magical as before, but will surely be remembered as one of the most relaxing and funny moments of their cruise.

...

Another day comes and goes and, finally, they reach it: Heart-shaped Island, bringing up to every one - each in their own private universe that collectively built the Sweet Suite a year ago, a lot of memories and emotions, a lot of voices in the sound of the waves, voices of the sea, voices speaking to the travelers disembarking from the two ships in a state of wonder but, if they stop to listen, shut up, for listening too: fortunate, enchanted hearty island, land where Love lives waiting for walkers as they wake up from a dream and face Real Life, where there's only sentiment, where there's only the sea.

“So beautiful…” Emm extends her arms with teary eyes clouded by images and sounds reverberating in her heart: magic music... magic mirror and, oh! sweet memory... Luna and Missy... “I miss them…” she whispers to Key and Emma, who walks close to them, hand in hand with Hope.

“They are here, Aunt Emm,” Hope comforts Emm, caressing her hands and pointing to the sky, “see those two shinning birds flying over there? They are Luna and Missy sending their love!!!”

…

The Beatles song sounds far away, mingling in the air with the happy laughs and screams of children - who today don't want to be treated like pre-teens or teens. Even the adults, seen at close range, have allowed the kid they kept in their chests to run free on the beach. At the extremes, all in all, old and young find themselves communing with the magic of the Island.

"Here comes the sun king Everybody is laughing Everybody is happy Here comes the sun king...

Quando paramucho mi amore de felice corazón Mundo paparazzi mi amore chicka ferdy parasol Cuesto obrigado tanta mucho que canite carousel..."

In this scenario, Emm and Key - she with Jason, the ever more contemplative, on her lap, he carrying the most alert, Dylan - are walking the heart path, the island edge.

"Still beautiful and welcoming," Emm smiles with nostalgia.

"Would you like to come back, love?"

"Maybe, on summer holidays or special occasions... we could build a few summer houses and come with Killian, Emma and Hope, perhaps, Robyn & Alice and Henry & Violet, and..." she grins shaking her head,  "not too many or it would become too crowded..."

"Three houses would be perfect, love, they could be 3-bedroom cottages. Killian, Emma and I were talking to Anna and Kristoff about that, you know, nearly 30 minutes ago. We are thinking about creating a regular Tourism route - remember that it is always Summer-like here - but for that we'd have to build a small dock, for the Jolly Rogers, and 3 cottages: one at the tip of the heart, where your house used to be, and the other two in the lobes of the heart, where we made love for the second time," he grins, playing with Dylan's fingers.

Emma chuckles and continues, "it would be nice for us and the children, I can already imagine them running along these white sands, laughing happily, building castles..."

"Aye..." suddenly Key stops on his track to look into Emm's eyes, "it was here that I told you, for the first time, that I love you..."

"I love you too, Killian, and if it weren't for Jason already massaging my breasts and making my milk drip, I'd kiss you showing how much... Let's go find a shadow because these two are thirsty and so do I..."

"Sit here with the boys, Emma, under these palm trees. Don't spend your magic to bring water, I'll fill the canteen in the fountain and will be back in a minute."

...

“Emm, you lived in a paradise: a beautiful beach with warm waters, a cool breeze, crystal clear drinking water, delicious…” Zelena and Chad approach Emm, lying on the sand next to the babies, who alternate to breastfeed on her.

“Yeah, this island is really special, Zelena: magic and musical…” she smiles softly while looking at the children approaching with Alice and Henry Mills to sit next to them.

“What song would she - the island is a girl - sing to us if she could sing?” Cora asks, making funny faces at Dylan.

“We could ask her,” Hope replies and turns to Alice, “Starfish…” everyone smiles at the girl's cuteness using Alice's nickname, “you talk to the trees, so... you could ask them what song they would sing for us…”

“Sure, my cutie,” Alice replies blinking, “I'm going to the middle of the island, near the water fountain, I will concentrate to ask them and to be able to hear their answer and then I will come back to tell you…”

…

When she comes back with a big smile on her lips, everyone asks: "So, did it work?"

“Aye, the Island responded! she told me that the song she would like to dedicate to us is called Feeling Good!"

Initially the title didn't ring a bell to anyone and Key then asked his daughter if there wasn't any other hint - "nope, nada!"

“I know it!” Henry finally exclaims, “I know this song! There is a classic version with Nina Simone but I think I have a cover version on my playlist, do you want to hear it?”

“We want it!!” “Of course!” “Aye!” “Yes!” “Aye!”

"Very well, everyone," Henry prepares to press play: "here we go!"

*

[ciircumserpent]

on a more serious / ic note, that therapist + pickle rick video that’s becoming popular now is such a snake v. big boss mood. like listen when i say that i don’t think that big boss is inherently evil, and if we’re going to talk about long-standing themes in metal gear and the cycle of abuse ( which is beating a dead horse at this point with how many posts there are on it, mine included ), then we need to acknowledge that big boss’s status as a villain is caused by the fact that he was a good person who had inexplicable things happen to him, terrible things, things he didn’t know how to cope with, and though he tried a few times to deal with it, those awful circumstances continued to crop up and eventually he stopped trying to fight it and let it make him bitter. he adapted in an unhealthy but unfortunately common way to his trauma -- by enacting it on others; by taking control of what had controlled him to ensure that he would never be hurt again, because of the power he attributed to the people who had harmed him.

the idea that someone is so self-obsessed or detached from their own humanity that they use their ‘heightened’ experience to justify their behavior / their refusal to do the mental and emotional work that it takes to be a relatively healthy person who does not harm others is pretty relevant to this character. you can get into semantics and societal expectations, but the fact of the matter is that some behavior is poisonous, both to the person perpetuating it and to others. big boss remains trapped in a narcissist’s nightmare, constantly afraid of being used and asserting himself as a savior so that he can hear approval echoed back at him from those he ‘rescues’, simultaneously dragging them down with him. 

he’s an incredibly tragic character and a large part of this tragedy stems from the fact that he will not put in the work to fix himself. and he could. we know that he can put on a facade and appear well put together; he ran foxhound for years this way. the majority of his allies and enemies don’t think he’s crazy ( that kaz, the one who knew him best, does, says something about big boss, but kaz has his own issues that affect that ). if he put the work in to make that his daily life instead of faking it to achieve his ends, he could probably ‘recover’ -- as much as any soldier could in his situation. and that’s important, that kojima’s scenario is so steeped in realism. for some people it is more comforting to distance themselves from civilian society because what they have seen is so alien and overwhelming that belonging in the ‘normal’ world becomes nightmarishly difficult. it’s why you have veteran hospitals ( most of which are poorly run in this country ) and support groups made up of other soldiers; because if you don’t have someone who understands where you are coming from and knows what you’ve experienced, you can feel isolated or ‘broken’. big boss’s situation isn’t unrealistic in theory, it’s just taken to an extreme for the sake of the other parts of the story.

and we can acknowledge, based off of big boss’s dialogue, that he did attempt to leave his life as a soldier. he tried being an environmental instructor. he tried settling down. he even continued to support naomi even after giving up, as if to maintain that tenuous connection to organized civilization. is it any surprise that he’s not that willing to talk to a therapist, when his negative opinion of ‘two-bit journalists’ suggests that his attempts to open up about his feelings have been blown out of proportion and monetized? big boss is a legend; he is public domain. his thoughts and feelings are a source of inspiration and entertainment to others. he is so bombarded by the concept that he is an idol that i can’t imagine him ever thinking to sit down and sort himself out. he cashes in on this the only way he knows how: he uses it to keep himself afloat, to rope more soldiers into his waxing and waning army, and to perpetuate warfare so that he always knows his place. 

because doing that work to be healthy is petrifying. being a man instead of an ideal, what he apparently wanted all along but acted against, would probably feel like a waste of over half his life; he would essentially become a different person entirely. so his motivations, while understandable, while sympathetic ( remember that we’re talking about a fictional character with exaggerated traits and this analysis is not something i would ever presume to apply to living veterans as it’s not my place ), prevent him from healing and moving forwards and not hurting others.

then there’s snake, the deconstruction of the espionage action hero. he is not james bond. he is not indiana jones. he faces the mental repercussions of his missions, sometimes for years at a time, and he acknowledges more than once that it would be so easy to be like big boss, or liquid, or solidus, or all the others who opted out of coping because the benefits of justifying their actions outweighed the cons of putting in the work to recover. snake starts out mgs1 this way, and he tries very hard to be that person, but it’s as much an act as big boss’s collected persona. in the end, he is someone who wants to put in the work, and he does. it’s slow and happens in shuffling steps and is a very visceral depiction of recovery. 

by the end, we don’t even know if he has fully recovered -- he still has plenty of problems, in the personal and social spheres. but he’s tried, he’s conceded that he can’t just be a soldier, and no matter how many times he says otherwise, he keeps fighting to be worthy of the life he’s been given by making life better for others. his issues don’t go away; he tends to hold humanity at arm’s length and has trouble forming close relationships, and some of his coping methods are unhealthy. he’s still an ass, he still offends the people around him, but the point is that he apologizes, and he tries to be better, and he goes out of his way to help when he can. he does everything in his power for sunny, for otacon, for campbell, for raiden, and even for meryl. you can watch it play out in mgs1 or you can see the subtle shifts in his character throughout the series as a whole, but it’s clear that he’s putting in the time and trying to change his perspective. and it’s not easy for him, and he relapses, but he wants it, and he’ll sweat and bleed for it. he will not consent to just being a bad person because he could justify it.

it’s the division between victimization and acceptance and breaking that abusive cycle. if you are a victim in your own mind, then you have no control over your actions, and it will always be somebody else’s fault. and it’s okay to label yourself a victim if you have been hurt, but remaining in that mindset forever is unhealthy, because it can prevent you from accepting responsibility for the things you do. acknowledging that you have been hurt but not relinquishing your own autonomy is difficult, especially when somebody else still has power over you. i won’t deny that, it’s hard as hell and extremely tiring and relapses are to be expected. but it is a way to prevent what happened to you from happening to others.

‘the only truly unapproachable concept for you is that it’s your mind within your control, you chose to come here, you chose to talk to belittle my vocation [...] you are the master of your universe [...] i have no doubt that you would be bored senseless by therapy, the same way i am bored when i brush my teeth and wipe my ass, because the thing about repairing, maintaining and cleaning is: it’s not an adventure. there’s no way to do it so wrong you might die. it’s just work. and the bottom line is: some people are ok going to work and some people, well some people would rather die. each of us gets to choose.’

[mtbspace]

Check This List to Uncover the Best Full Face Mountain Bike Helmet for You

Mountain biking is an inherently risky sport. You’re more likely to be injured than road cycling or even skateboarding. There’s a large potential for high energy impacts and falls with lots of momentum.

On top of the risk factors, mountain biking is expensive.

You need a bike (check out our list of the best ones available under $1,000), the right shoes (we’ve done that research for you too), and your safety gear. With all of those costs, it’s tempting to skimp on the helmet. As long as it protects your head, it should be fine. Right? Wrong.

There are differences between mountain biking helmets that increase safety and comfort.

Your helmet is not a place to choose the cheap option and be done with it. An uncomfortable helmet can make or break the enjoyment factor of a ride. A helmet that doesn’t fit properly can increase your potential injuries during a crash.

In mountain biking, you wear your helmet for long hours on the trail to use them (hopefully) infrequently. Why would you choose to ride with something that is miserable most of the time you’re on your bike and then might not even do its job well when the time comes?

We get it – choosing a helmet on characteristics other than price can be overwhelming.

There are half-shell, convertible, and full-face options that vary dramatically in those categories. Today, we’re focusing on the attributes and best models of the full-face variety. We’ve described all of the aspects and features of the best full face mountain bike helmets, along with a list of our favorites. Keep reading to learn more and find your ideal protection choice.

Why choose it?

Mountain biking helmets come in two main styles – half-shell and full face. On this page, we’re diving into the details of the full-face mountain bike helmet.

Full face helmets provide extra protection when compared to a half-shell. It covers more of your head, neck, and face. Specifically, your entire occipital lobe, temporal area, both ears, and entire jaw are protected.

Another plus of this style is its ability to control the rotational forces your head and neck experience during a crash. Half-shell styles can protect you from impacts of rocks or branches that contact with your head. However, they leave the twists, turns, and tweaks that result from those hits to occur as they may.

Because they cover your head, neck, and face, full face helmets use design technology to minimize the bumps and bounces that take place after the initial impact of a fall. You are less likely to bang around thanks to the padding and cushioning inside the helmet. This decreases the likelihood of brain trauma or serious injuries.

Extra protection is especially important for downhill, enduro and free riders or those who frequent bike parks. While MTB riders who spend lots of their time climbing or working through technical singletrack are at lower risks of serious crashes, those who bike at high speeds, take big jumps, and travel over lots of rock can see some gnarly falls.

Anyone who plans to push their limits with speed or air should consider a full-face helmet.

What features should I look for?

It’s amazing how all full-face helmets can look exactly the same yet contain so many overwhelmingly different characteristics at the same time. We’ve broken everything down to make it more clear and easy to digest. We know you’d much rather be shredding the singletrack than comparing helmet padding materials or analyzing safety features. We prefer that too! That’s why we’ve put everything in one place to get us all back on our bikes soon and safely.

Breathability

For years, the stuffy, uncomfortable nature of a full face helmet lead people to choose the less safe, but more comfortable option. Luckily, as technology and the popularity of the sport has advanced, so has the design of mountain bike helmets. Today, helmets have incorporated vents, air channels, and liners that don’t trap in air and heat.

A key feature to look for is the padding material. The most comfortable helmets use open-cell foam covered with a soft, wicking fabric. This prevents the helmet from bouncing around and banging into your head. It also keeps air circulating, prevents sweat from pooling between you and the helmet, and adds to the overall comfort.

Another important consideration is how well you can physically breathe in the helmet. The last thing you want is to be choosing between riding at your limit and playing it safe in order to breathe easily. The chin guard is where all of this happens.

First, look for how close the chin guard sits to your mouth. You’ll want a helmet that sits slightly away from your face, but not so far that you’ll crash into it during a fall. Second, count the number and design of the vents on the chin guard. More and larger vents will help you feel less like you’re suffocating.

No full-face helmet is going to have perfect breathability. You’ll always be aware that there’s something over your head – anything else is an impossible dream! However, it is possible to breathe and not feel restricted by moisture accumulation (AKA sweat) or air flow while you shred.

Adjustability

There’s no perfect helmet that fits everyone’s head. That would be an unmanageable challenge to create. There are, however, designs that allow a helmet to adjust and accommodate a large variety of head sizes and shapes.

When choosing a helmet, we encourage you to look at the number of pads and the variety of thicknesses they come in. This ensures most riders will be able to find a secure and comfortable fit.

Second, look at the dial on the back of the helmet or check that it is there at all. These allow you to adjust and readjust while on the trail. You shouldn’t have to take your gloves off or fiddle with lots of straps and buckles to make micro adjustments to your helmet fit. Most of the helmets that made our favorites list include this feature. However, not all of them do. If you’ll be going on long rides or across a variety of terrain types, this becomes essential for maintaining comfort.

Visor

While most road cyclists will choose to wear a hat or visor underneath their helmet to protect their face from the sun, it’s impossible to squeeze one in comfortably under a full-face setup. That’s why most mountain bike helmets will have a built-in visor. Not only will the visor keep the rays out of your eyes, but it will also protect you from rain or even limbs and branches along the trail.

When looking at the visor on your potential helmet, check out how easy (or not) it is to adjust. Sometimes you’ll want to push the visor out of the way or slide your goggles up off of your eyes. It’s important to be able to make these changes with ease. The options here vary greatly between helmet designs. Some don’t move at all, some visors slide up with plenty for room for goggles, and some can be pushed out of your sight line only a little. The best comes down to personal preference.

A final consideration is the attachment style of the visor. Many use screws that can be adjusted by hand. However, some need tools to achieve the perfect connection. We prefer the hand adjustment option. One more tool to remember and keep track of is unnecessary and annoying in our book.

Chin bar style

Full face mountain bike helmets come with two different styles of chin bar, regular and convertible. The difference is exactly as the name implies. Regular chin bars are built in as part of the helmet construction. Convertible chin bars can be removed and reattached as desired.

Deciding between a regular and convertible chin bar comes down to personal preference.

Convertible options are especially beneficial for riders who mix up their riding style and terrain type often. Removing the chin bar allows you to have the best of both worlds. You can ride with a half-shell helmet for climbs or more moderate rides and then go into full-face mode for the next aggressive downhill portion. Additionally, if you find the chin bar of your full face mountain bike helmet uncomfortable or suffocating, then you might want to try a convertible option.

That said, new full-face mountain bike helmet designs are breathable and comfortable. With the built-in ventilation, they are much less constricting than ever before. Plus, with the convertible options, you have the extra step of storing, attaching, detaching chin bar during your ride.

Gender or Age Specific Options

For a long time, the outdoor industry only designed gear for adult men. Thank goodness, they’ve begun to recognize that women and kids ride hard too! Women and youth helmets are no longer less capable than the industry standard.

Fit is the biggest consideration in capability, comfort, and safety. Women’s helmets are often smaller and more narrow. The same is true for children’s options.

Women’s full face mountain bike helmets often include a ponytail compatible design. Even though this may not seem like much, for those with long hair, this is extremely convenient. You aren’t forced to choose between having your hair out of your eyes, off of your neck, or your helmet fitting. You can have the best of all worlds!

Accessory Mounts

As technology improves and the world of social media becomes ever more popular, many people like to bring an action camera, like a GoPro, along for their rides. This allows you to create first-person perspective videos as you zip along the singletrack. It can also provide extra protection if something happens to you on the trail, like a negative interaction with another human or getting close to dangerous wildlife.

Helmet manufacturers have been watching this trend, and some top of the line helmets have the perfect camera mount built into the design. This makes it easy to find the ideal setup position and keeps you from spending more money on camera gear to mount it properly.

Another way to use this helmet attachment point is as a light mount. Clipping a bike light up high helps to increase your visibility and allows you to ride later into the night and season. Even when the days get shorter, you’ll be comfortable and confident along the dusky or dark trails. Attaching the light directly to the helmet is straightforward and easy – unlike other methods that are time-consuming and cumbersome, like weaving your headlamp through the helmet.

The best options available today

Below, we’ve listed the best full face mountain bike helmets on the market. We’ve analyzed them based on the features that matter and also how well they can hang on the trail.

Don’t forget – even though we have a stand-out favorite, that doesn’t mean it will be the perfect helmet for you. The best full face mountain bike helmet is the one that fits your head, is comfortable, and complements your riding style.

Without further ado, here’s the list.

Troy Lee Designs (TLD) Stage

Price: $295 Weight: 690 grams for size large

Hands down, we believe the TLD stage is the best value for all of the features. It is exceptionally lightweight and breathable. It includes 25 vents built into the shell. The liner is made from silver, which increases its wicking power and reduces the potential for odors.

It is easy to customize the fit with the variety of size and thickness pads that come with this helmet. The Fidlock magnetic buckle system is easy, even when you’re wearing gloves. The visor is adjustable.

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Our only complaint is that there is no built-in accessory mount and no easy place to stick one. However, the rest of our review reads like a checklist of every feature one can hope for in a full face mountain bike helmet. Even though this choice is a little on the pricey side, we firmly believe it’s worth every penny.

Fox Racing Rampage Pro Carbon MIPS

Price: $449.95 Weight: 1,075 grams

Coming in as the most expensive helmet on our list, the Rampage Pro Carbon has all the bells and whistles you’d expect and hope for at this price. Its look and aesthetic is minimalistic in a way that screams high performance. This helmet turns heads in the best way.

The Rampage Pro Carbon is designed perfectly, down to tiny elements like ear spacing. A large variety of pads come with it, including one for the chin strap.

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The ventilation setup leaves your head always comfortable – never too hot or too cold. Unlike many of the full face helmets on our list, the Rampage Pro Carbon has an accessory mount built into the visor.

If you can afford the high price tag, you will not be disappointed with this choice.

Bell Super DH MIPS

Price: $299.95 Weight: 870 grams

For a full face downhill helmet that also kicks it on the trail as a half shell, the Super DH is a solid choice. It’s not our all-time favorite in either mode, but it does everything well enough that it’s an excellent selection for the rider who does it all and only wants one helmet.

In both modes, the Super DH breathes well. With 19 vents, the air is moving, and the helmet feels light. Even though the design isn’t as focused on bringing air in as other models, you won’t find your head feeling trapped and stuffy.

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The magnetic closure and dial tightening systems ensure you can make adjustments without removing your gloves on the trail. This truly is your one solution for all mountain biking needs at a price that won’t break the bank.

FOX ProFrame

Price: $249.95 Weight: 758 grams for size medium

The ProFrame is designed with safety in mind. It includes a multi-directional impact protection system (MIPS) to reduce rotational forces during a crash. Even the liner adds safety features by helping to spread impact forces across a wider area.

The design includes 15 intake vents and 9 exhaust vents. As an added breathability bonus, the visor position feeds air into the vents. This does mean that the visor is not adjustable, but especially for those who get hot quickly, it could be acceptable in this case.

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Furthermore, the liner system is moisture-wicking with antimicrobial properties to further supplement the cool and comfort of your head.

The downsides to this helmet are more than you’d hope for at this price point. First, the frontal pad is narrow, which can be uncomfortable if it’s not sitting just right. Second, the only way to adjust the cheek fit is through pads, not the main liner. Finally, there is nowhere to mount your accessories.

All of that said, for the extremely safety conscious who love to feel air moving around inside their helmet, the ProFrame is an excellent choice.

Leatt DBX 4.0

Price: $229.99 Weight: 886 grams for size large

Though heavy when compared to other models, the DBX 4.0 is a safe, comfortable, and more affordable full face option. 22 vents keep air moving around the head, though the full liner keeps in warmth more than others. If you live in a warm climate and like to climb as well as rock the downhill portions, this may not be your ideal helmet. However, the chin bar is removable, so don’t rule it out until you’ve tried it.

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The safety features of the DBX 4.0 go unmatched by most other choices on our list. The 360 Turbine technology includes rubber-like inserts all around the helmet to absorb low-level impacts and protect the brain against rotational forces if you crash off-axis. The dual-density liner also aids in impact absorption. The visor breaks away during a crash to further slow speeds and reduce harm potential.

Overall, this is an excellent budget, convertible helmet to have the best of all worlds in one.

Still not sure which one to choose?

Our best advice is to find a store near you and try on every full face mountain bike helmet they have. See how they feel. Check out how they adjust. Take each helmet for a spin around the parking lot. You’ll quickly be able to tell which ones work for you and which aren’t a good fit (pun totally intended).

If you have more questions for us or think we left something off of our list, let us know! We love feedback and are excited to help more people get out on the trails with the best gear for them.

from MTB Space https://mtbspace.com/best-full-face-mountain-bike-helmet/

[hhoneybre]

April 4, 2019

There’s something about being awake in the early mornings that I’ve always adored. When life is at its stillest, the calmest it can be at four in the morning when the majority of living creatures are asleep. There’s a serenity that’s not present at any other moment of the twenty-four hour day. It’s as if for a moment everything is in quiet agreement to simply exist without troubles. Without some innate need to put on a mask, to show each other their best faces. Not now. This is the hour of vulnerability.

I think there are a lot of things that shape people into who they are. The personality they were born with, their experiences, their morality. Whether they grew up in a tight-knit home, whether they were bullied during their early school years, their attachment styles. So many tiny little things to make up one person, as if humans weren’t complex enough as it is.

The clock reads half past four. This will just be a string of thoughts, memories, vulnerabilities.

I’ve always been empathetic. I didn’t understand it much as a child. All I knew was that my heart hurt whenever I saw my mother cry, and her tears always became my own.

My mother was never my favorite person, but to be fair, I was never hers.

Mommy issues. Much less talked about than daddy issues, with fewer jokes and even fewer people who truly understand it. I don’t want to go as far as calling them issues, but at the time they were.

At the time. What does that mean? Years ago? Childhood? Last year?

My mother is a kind being. I get a lot of what I consider to be my positive attributes from her. She has a wonderful laugh, a great sense of humor, and a gentle touch. I got her laughter, and her sense of giving. We are both detail-oriented people with a love for making care packages for those we love. She taught me to be selfless simply by example, and for that, I will always be grateful.

My mother is a kind being, and yet I grew up lacking love. She always favored my sister, just as my father always favored me, so I should have been happy. Two parents, two kids, each with their favorite. It’s simple math.

But the fact that my mother, one of the kindest people I know, didn’t show me the love and affection she showed my older sister cut me more deeply than I care to admit. I was just a child. What had I done wrong? What had I done to make this being of love, not love me?

That’s the thing about family. Love is expected. The reality of it is that people are people, and being bound by blood doesn’t guarantee anything besides years of forced get-togethers and expectations.

My mother loved me as best as she could. She provided for me, made me meals, did her best to instill good morals. As I grew older we clashed. I was full of resentment towards her that transformed into venomous accusations and stupid decisions. I blamed her for my constant need for affection. I didn’t get it from her, and so I looked elsewhere. I stayed out late, kissed people I shouldn’t have, acted out. The whole teenage rebellion phase with just a dash of lunacy that was driven by my self-hatred.

Because surely if this being of love couldn’t love me then no one ever would.

I was wrong, of course. My mother loved me in her own way, and I loved her in mine. It wasn’t until years later, when I was eighteen and finally understanding why things happened, that she apologized. She apologized for being a “cold” mother. For not embracing me the way she did my sister, for not reminding me that she loved me just as much.

Cold. That’s an odd way to put it.

At this point, I had accepted it. I wasn’t bitter anymore. I had made peace with it. But the apology was accepted nonetheless, and I gave her mine for having been such a troublesome child. There was a shift afterward that allowed us to co-exist. I have an appreciation for my mother that I wish I could explain more deeply but I don’t have the right words for it. She’s a wonderful person, with some off traits and attitudes that make us disagree from time to time, but I think her heart is always set in the right place. And that’s what matters.

The clock reads four fifty.

Sometimes I question whether I’m genuine. I know how I feel inside, how badly I want to be nothing but good, and how difficult that can be when my insecurities and traumas begin to cloud my thinking. Then again, blaming anything negative about myself on something like trauma seems like an excuse. And I have never been one to not own up to my own wrongdoings.

I wish I could say I’ve lived a life that I was nothing but proud of, but that’s unrealistic. I’ve done and said things I wish I could take back. I’ve lost friends, hurt loved ones. I don’t think I’m as good of a person as I make myself out to be.

So, is that why I feel so fake? Because of something I did when I was sixteen? Because of someone I hurt when I was just a child? Is it okay to say ‘no, that’s not who I am anymore’ and love myself? Or is that denying a part of me that’s less than good?

There’s a part of me that terrifies me. The one that feels anger, that lashes out when I’m feeling stressed or falling apart. I know how to hurt people. I know everyone’s insecurities and weaknesses because I’ve always been the person everyone turns to. The fact I’ve ever used those things to hurt anyone when I was angry makes my heart ache.

I can recall a few instances. Telling my mother she had no right to criticize my relationship when she stayed in one that no longer made her happy out of fear of being alone. Telling my ex that his idolization of his father was misplaced because the man was always absent and his disregard for his children was more than evident. Telling a friend that her need for constant attention from boys stemmed from her own vanity, that she was self-centered to the point she couldn’t care less if she hurt others as long as she was feeling good about herself at the end of the day.

My tongue is sharp sometimes and I wish I was mute.

I think I’m a bad person. I try my best to live a life of love. I’ve been doing so for years. But still, I feel as if I’m undeserving of love itself. Maybe that’s why I give it so easily. I feel unloved always. So I love in return.

I don’t want others to feel the way I do.

The funny thing about all this is that I’m completely aware that I’m being irrational. I’ve had plenty of conversations with people I love about the fact that people grow from their past. “Your past doesn’t define you” or “You’re not that person anymore” are things I’ve said more than once.

I never want people to hold onto past regrets. I think that’s toxic. So why can’t I apply any of that advice to myself? It’s always different when it comes to yourself, isn’t it?

The clock reads five minutes past five.

Do you ever think about the ocean? I do. All the time, actually. Just the other night I was thinking about how different the ocean is depending on the time of day.

If you go to the beach during the day, you get her playful side. You get the shimmering water that sunlight bounces off of. You get the laughter of kids as they play tag with the water as it kisses the shoreline. During the day, the ocean is a place. A setting. Somewhere people go to.

At night it’s a different story. The waters are dark, illuminated only by moonlight if you’re lucky enough to have a cloudless night. The water speaks then because you’ll hear her now. Her roars won’t be drowned out by the sound of laughter. Now is her turn to command, and I listen to her in quiet contemplation. Now she is a being of her own. We share intimacy.

Mothers, regrets, oceans. All things that are on my mind at five in the morning. I don’t think I’ll ever find sleep again.

The clock reads five twelve.

[centralparkpawsblog]

Dog Whistles: How and Why to Use Them

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When a neighbor (and good friend) of mine got her first puppy years ago, I was able to to help her out with tips on both leash training as well as crate training which my friend and her new pooch, aptly named Bob Barker, were able to master in no time.

The feeling of pride those accomplishments instilled in us didn’t last too long. Neither of us were prepared for the insanity of him barking throughout the night.

When you’ve lost sleep night after night because your new puppy or your neighbor’s dog barks all night long, it’s the worst. There’s not much you won’t do for some relief. Most people start out with a quick Google search.

Do this and you will find plenty of results that talk about checking local laws and city ordinances. You will unfortunately also find plenty of creeps encouraging varying ranges of violence against the dog.

I was looking for a solution that fell somewhere on the spectrum between murder and a lawsuit. Dog whistles to the rescue!

What is a Dog Whistle Used For and Other FAQs

The purpose of this device is usually either to get a dog’s attention, for behavior modification, or for training purposes. They are a great training tool for both dog owners and exhausted neighbors.

These handy training whistles are also sometimes referred to as a silent whistle or a Galton’s whistle, invented in 1876 by Sir Francis Galton who did experiments on the range of frequencies that could be heard by different animals.

So How Does a Dog Whistle Work?

Because a dog can hear at higher frequencies than humans can, you will only hear a quiet hissing sound when a high pitch dog whistle is blown. The pooch should have no difficulty hearing the sound when you blow one of these “silent” whistles.

How the dog responds to the high-frequency whistle depends on how you have trained them to respond.  You can’t just take the whistle out of the package, give it a good toot, and expect miraculous behavior out of the dog instantly.

If you find something that works that quickly for training, please contact me immediately.

No, seriously. Please help me. Training isn’t always my strong suit (obviously).

Do Dog Whistles Hurt Puppy’s Ears?

Did you know they make ear protection for dogs? How adorable are these doggy ear muffs?

Let’s say you’re watching a football game on TV, and you hear the ref blow the whistle. Probably didn’t hurt your ears, right? Now imagine the ref is inches from your face blowing that same whistle.

Depending on the whistle itself and how hard it is blown, the result could range anywhere from annoying and unpleasant to downright painful and damage causing. It’s the same for dogs when it comes to silent whistles.

Can’t I Just Use a “Regular” Whistle to Train My Puppy?

Sure, if you want annoy the heck out of every human within a mile of you. Silent whistles gained popularity for a reason. You need to use a whistle that will capture the attention of the dog, not the neighbors.

Can People or Other Animals Hear Dog Whistles?

Whether or not people or other animals can hear dog whistles depends on the frequency of the sound of the individual dog whistle being used.  People can generally hear within the range of 64-23,000 Hz, and most dog whistles are at a frequency above what humans can hear.  A dog’s hearing ranges from 67-45,000 Hz, as compared to the bat who comes in at 2,000-110,000.  He has heard ALL your dirty, little secrets.

Species Approximate Range (Hz)  human 64-23,000 dog 67-45,000 cat 45-64,000 horse 55-33,500 sheep 100-30,000 mouse 1,000-91,000 ferret 16-44,000 bat 2,000-110,000 beluga whale 1,000-123,000 elephant 16-12,000 goldfish 20-3,000 tree frog 50-4,000 parakeet 200-8,500 owl 200-12,000 chicken 125-2,000

Source

Can a Dog That is Deaf Hear a Dog Whistle?

The answer to that depends on the extent of the hearing loss and what range of the dog’s hearing is gone. Your best bet would be to try an adjustable dog whistle so you can play with different frequencies until you find the one that gets your pet’s attention.

If that doesn’t work out, you could try a special vibration collar designed for dogs who are deaf for getting their attention. They still be trained commands with the use of hand signals. Like the silent whistles, the collars aren’t a magic fix. They must be used in conjunction with proper training. 

Different Types of Dog Whistles

There are many different types of dog whistles on the market today that produce different fixed sound frequencies, and there are also dog whistles that are adjustable as well as electronic options.

Electronic Dog Whistles

There are currently several different types of electronic dog whistles available for purchase. I’ve never used one and it’s hard for me to tell based off of the reviews how well the products do or don’t work. The lung powered whistles have all got a comparable amount of negative reviews online.

I attribute this to the fact that some people don’t seem to understand that it takes more than just sounding a whistle to make an animal do what you want it to do. There has to be some silent whistle training in order for the product to work.

Or if you are feeling adventurous, you could always try your hand at constructing a homemade electronic dog whistle.

There are many devices purporting to be an electronic dog repellent or a bark silencer (this one is my favorite). There are some that claim they will stop dogs from fighting and barking. Without the proper training in conjunction with the use of the whistle, all it can do is provide a temporary distraction at best, and even that depends on the dog’s level of aggression.

Again, no magical quick fixes exist when it comes to pet behavior. It’s only consistent training that will get you where you want to be.

Dog Whistle Apps

You can also use your smartphone to download apps that make the sound of a dog whistle.

Much like both the lung powered whistles and the electronic ones, the dog whistle apps available have mixed reviews. And much like both of the other categories of whistles, I say it’s because people aren’t using them in conjunction with proper training. Dog whistles are a training tool, not a magic wand.

Fixed Frequency Dog Whistles

Acme 110.5 Frequency Dog Whistle

The Acme 110.5 Frequency was the first dog whistle I ever purchased for myself.  It’s what’s known as a fixed frequency whistle. All you do is put it to your lips and blow. Nothing to adjust or tighten.  Perfect for a first-timer.

Personally, I love the fun colors they come in.  Having a lanyard is nice, too, especially when you’re trying to hang onto a large dog and palm your treat stash while blowing your whistle, doing a handstand, and juggling knives.

BTW, mine was purple.

Acme 211.5 Frequency Dog Whistle

I also have owned the Acme 211.5 Frequency whistle. I couldn’t really tell the difference between the two personally. But then again, I don’t hear quite as well as my dogs do. The main difference between this one and the model shown above is that the frequency the whistle sounds at is at a slightly different fixed rate.

This seemingly minor difference between the whistles can have a big impact on how effective it is on Fido.

Different breeds of dogs have different hearing abilities. Labrador retrievers, golden retrievers, poodles, and cocker spaniels rank among the breeds with the best hearing capabilities.

There are many factors other than breed that can affect a dog’s auditory range. Much like in humans, ear damage from loud sounds or trauma, as well as things like deterioration from age can play a factor as well.

And don’t forget about the ones who just have selective hearing.

Adjustable Dog Whistles

This adorable little adjustable dog whistle is around the size of your pinky (well, maybe not YOUR pinky, unless your pinky is average to smallish in size.)

The metal pitch rod lets you change the frequency easily by tightening or loosening the rod. The frequency range this produces seems to work well for most dogs.

The only issue with this type of whistle, besides being easy to lose (as well as a choking hazard for some dogs) because of its size, is that it might take a bit of trial and error before you get the whistle adjusted to the pitch your dog will respond to. Once you find it, setting the frequency of your adjustable dog whistle is easy though.

  This one is an adjustable whistle with a locking nut on a chain. Very biker chic. I dig it.  But like I said, if your dog doesn’t listen to your verbal commands, he’s probably not going to respond to you making a sound with a whistle either, no matter how cool it looks. 

    How to Adjust a Dog Whistle

To adjust the frequency your silent whistle makes when blown, simply twist the pitch rod slightly. Turning the pitch rod counter-clockwise will result in a higher pitch and clock-wise yields a lower pitch.

Once you’re satisfied with the frequency you’ve adjusted to, secure the pitch rod locknut. Easy as pie!

  How to Use a Dog Whistle Properly

It might seem like it would be simple enough to use a dog whistle properly. You just blown in it, right? Sorry to say you’re going to have to put in just a little work than that in order to condition a dog to respond to the silent whistle.

This article from Psychology Today also discusses the need to incorporate proper training with the use of a dog whistle.

Conclusion: Do Silent Dog Whistles Really Work?

I credit the basic dog whistle for helping me shut my neighbor’s dog up. It took many nights of effort on both our parts. Imagine me, if you will, standing in my backyard in my PJs at 2:00 a.m. tossing treats over the fence to Bob Barker while tooting on my whistle.

There is no whistle that can magically stop a dog from barking

Long story short, it eventually worked beautifully to quiet the pup down. It simply took a bit of reinforcement training to go along with the use of the whistle.

Over the years I’ve found it to be quite a helpful tool when to use in training a dog for a great variety of things.

Dog whistles: I approve this product.

The post Dog Whistles: How and Why to Use Them appeared first on Central Park Paws.

from https://www.centralparkpaws.net/dog-training-tips/dog-whistle-training-stops-barking/

[thepastisaroadmap]

[ID: OP's tags, which say: #Winn is a pawn of the prophets #they purposefully did not talk to her #even quark has an orb experience #but the Kai doesn't get one word #she is holding onto her faith by a string and the wormhole aliens put her in that position for their own gain #the prophets are like lol snip snip bitch #they put her through hell because they needed her to bring the reckoning with the pah wraiths #she's ambitious and calculating yeah but she also lived through the worst of the occupation #plenty of people come out of trauma with negative attributes #it doesn't excuse her behavior but maybe it explains some of it #she really does just want what's best for Bajor #through the worst of it she still believes #the prophets are more ambitious cold and calculating than Kai Winn is #her crisis of faith happens because she finally gets word from her gods that she has been loyal to all this time #and it ends up being the pah wraiths and she still struggles to turn to their side #she was written as a grating character and they write her so well #star trek deep space nine#before ds9 goes off my radar for 3 months #Kai Winn #meta #I could have written that as a cohesive post and not a tag essay... End ID]

I'm a Kai Winn apologist but not because I think she's a good person. She's a compelling tragic character