#she and drogo both

[ihaveastorminme]

Jhogo edged back, his hand on his arakh. He was a youth of sixteen years, whip-thin, fearless, quick to laugh, with the faint shadow of his first mustachio on his upper lip. He fell to his knees before her. “Khaleesi,” he pleaded, “you must not do this thing. Let me kill this maegi.” “Kill her and you kill your khal,” Dany said. “This is bloodmagic,” he said. “It is forbidden.” “I am khaleesi, and I say it is not forbidden. In Vaes Dothrak, Khal Drogo slew a stallion and I ate his heart, to give our son strength and courage. This is the same. The same.”

she knows its not. but she is trying to convince herself that it is, because she needs to believe it, because it scares her what she is doing, what it means.

this type of of delusional thinking reminded me of Sansa for a moment, which was nice, because usually Dany and her enjoyment of markets and bazars and all types of people reminds me delightfully of Arya.

[sunfyrisms]

“it was her fourteenth nameday.”

that is genuinely so gut-wrenching. so tragic. take me out back and shoot me i’m so unbelievably serious why do these books insist on making me suffer.

[atopvisenyashill]

jon/ygritte is very interesting bc even tho their situation was pretty fucked up jon did love her! gendrya is cute but arya is too young and the books are never being finished so yeah

yeah those are both very fair. i think if we got the finished books, gendrya would be in that category of “genuine good love story” bc right now it’s like the beginning and middle build up but, especially from gendry’s end, no real climax. i don’t think arya is aware she has romantic feelings for gendry, i’ve said before i think he’s aware of her feelings and just didn’t know how to handle it, and now feels some extreme guilt over ~rejecting~ her unknown crush. and i think that’s very typical sort of romance novel misunderstanding that could come to a very lovely conclusion. but right now arya is still an eleven year old completely unaware of the romantic undertones of that entire thing while gendry is (i always forget his age is he 15??) just like, trying not to die in the riverlands while he stews in his guilt lol.

jonygritte meanwhile is VERY much one of those toxic romances but i think people are really silly about it. there’s significantly more romanticism in this relationship than other ones, and i think it’s silly to ignore that aspect for the hardline anti ygritte takes the same as like, ignoring those toxic elements really takes away how interesting this relationship is. on the one hand, there’s very much a reason that this romance serves a similar narrative purpose as like, dany/drogo, tyrion/tysha and tyrion/shae, sansa/sandor, etc, and it’s bc there’s some FREAKY consent issues going on here lmao but on the other hand….jon’s feelings for ygritte have impacted not just his own feelings on romance but also his entire leadership arc re: gender & culture it’s so stupid to pretend like she’s ONLY there as a negative influence (this is how i feel about sandor too).

[kaerinio]

there are times when i sit here thinking about sweet, dutiful, warm, justice-driven dany and her love of men who just happen to be the best and most notorious killers, and i just — — —

[ladystoneboobs]

idt we talk enough about how a song of ice and fire is also the song of incest and cannibalism. i mean, sure, obviously both of those subjects are noted as present, but the saga feels much more known for its incest, which idt is fair or accurate to the later materiel. iirc, jaime fucking cersei next to their dead firstborn is the last instance of onpage incest happening in present tl, and after that it's all about the cannibals, baby.

(disclaimer: cw/tw sa, cw/tw rape, and i'm not counting cousincest as that's normal in-world even for non-targaryens and also still legal in many places in our world today, nor counting the faux-incestuous freudian mess that is littlefinger/alayne(sansa)/sweetrobin, nor any dark humor jokes and/or unfulfilled threats wrt forced cannibalism)

in fact pretty much all the active incest during the present tl happens in those first 3 books:

the twincest as a major plot point ofc, kicking action off when bran saw them fucking in a tower

and viserys creeping on dany and twisting her nipple

tyrion relating his backstory to bronn wherein he and tysha were both raped by proxy by his father, tywin (tho tyrion does not use that terminology)

craster still being alive to rape and impregnate his own daughters (resulting in dozens of forced incestuous relationships)

and theon unknowingly groping his own sister while she (knowingly) groped him in return

jaime's early pov recalled how he shut up cersei with kissing when they fought after bran refused to die

bella of stoney sept trying and failing to seduce gendry who is (unbeknownst to them both) her half-brother as both were sired by robert baratheon (only example in these 3 books where incest was averted before any sexual activity or incestuous contact occurred)

the aforementioned sept twincest next to joffrey's corpse

tyrion learning from oberyn about cersei twisting his penis when he was a baby

cersei's failed attempt to seduce jaime in wst, pulling out his dick for either a bj or hj until her talk of tyrion's death made him lose his boner

while incest is not exactly absent from the text after that, it seems to exist in the feastdance only in hypotheticals or past memories:

aeron's trauma flashbacks of his (implied only in published text) csa by euron

jaime still feeling lust when seeing cersei nude

and her fond reminiscing about them fucking behind robert's back/brief dream of them as a married couple before her walk of shame

and cersei remembering another she twisted tyrion's baby penis

victarion misinterpreting asha's offer of partnership as a marriage proposal and suddenly looking at his niece in a new way with "his manhood beginning to stiffen"

jaime's recollection of fucking cersei at darry next to robert as he was passed out drunk before cersei sent him to hunt arya (which would have happened back in agot and the point of this scene is more his failed hunt for a child just to make cersei happy)

arianne's "uneasy" memory of a past fantasy about being seduced by a man whose description is suspiciously similar to her late uncle oberyn

the aborted marital match of aegon/young griff to his purported aunt dany

illyrio saying (the now dead) viserys tried to rape dany the night before her wedding to drogo (another event from agot concerning a guy we already knew was into incest)

and tyrion once saying he wanted to rape as well as murder cersei

conversely, the cannibalism in the earlier books is most often only unproven hypotheticals alluded to as possible cannibalism:

old nan saying the others fed their dead servants the flesh of human children (which we have not yet seen with any wights so far, whether or not one counts walking undead eating human flesh as straight-up cannibalism)

the mystery meat in flea bottom's bowls o' brown which may or may not contain symon silver tongue after tyrion had him killed

renly's recollection that cressen kept stannis from catapulting their old master-at-arms by saying they may need to eat him later (which did not come to pass thanks to davos)

joffrey telling his people to eat their own dead (with no way of knowing if any actually did)

lady hornwood eating her own fingers (though bran's pov only notes them being chewed on, not swallowed. it's only in adwd that people talk of her eating the fingers.)

the mentions of the ice river clans being the cannibals beyond the wall (who are def not among the free folk jon snow gets to know onpage, making it just background detail)

bran's (possibly mythical) story of the rat cook

and biter chewing on people he attacked and other corpses (which seems to be just a side hobby connected to his killing method moreso constituting a snack than a full meal from a person butchered for meat. this tendancy of his is just background detail in acok, with biter chewing a corpse in the background after the weasel soup operation, and the hindsight implication that it could well have been him rather than dogs or wolves who had "been at" the corpses after the skirmish where yoren was killed)

while the feastdance feels much more in your face with cannibalism, having not only more total mentions of the practice but also more confirmed, actual cannibalism (as opposed to the ambiguity of each and every bowl o' brown), for those who know how to look at the evidence:

jaime learned that his father's mad dog aka the mountain fed parts of vargo hoat to all his prisoners (including vargo himself) after recapturing harrenhal

and euron bragged about pulling a similar trick with the warlocks he captured (the only twist being that the warlocks knew what they were being forced to eat, which vargo hoat and wylis manderly etc at harrenhal likely didn't)

the elder brother of the quiet isle told of biter eating all of a woman's breasts at saltpans after she'd been raped and killed (prob the largest amount of flesh biter's confirmed to have eaten from one corpse)

bran and co. ate "pig" supplied by coldhands which had to be long pig aka human meat

brienne felt her face being eaten by biter in her own pov (which is so much worse than him chewing others in the background of the weasel soup scene)

theon was told that two ironmen at moat cailin were found eating their dead comrades

the astapori were said to eat their own dead while under siege by the yunkishmen

and then were said to do so again in refugee camps outside meereen

sam and davos sailed past skagos and remembered stories of skagosi cannibalism

khrazz the pit fighter cut the hearts from his defeated foes to eat them

cotter pyke's last letter to jon snow said the wildlings were eating their own dead at hardhome

4 of stannis's men were executed by burning for butchering and eating other men (with asha wondering how many others had done so without being caught)

and ofc the frey pies with wyman manderly having his 3 former guests killed and serving their meat to their own kin and the other guests at ramsay's wedding while eating some himself too

two of these examples (involving gregor clegane and euron greyjoy) must have actually happened during the course of asos, but grrm chose to give us the gruesome details in affc, which was brand new information about men we already knew were villains but did not know were into that fucked-up shit specifically, unlike being reminded that agot-era jaime and viserys wanted to fuck their sisters. (and not unlike how adwd has the clarification of multiple characters saying lady hornwood ate her own fingers as opposed to bran's acok pov just saying she chewed on them.) it's as if after craster was killed and jc effectively broke up grrm decided cannibalism was the taboo subject matter he would fill the later books with, so we'd really feel the increasing danger of starvation-induced cannibalism with winter's arrival (and have no trouble believing rickon's new home of skagos really is a cannibal island). however, in-universe it feels like there's some sort of environmental balance connection so that the decrease in one formerly common behaviorial abomination just allows another such abomination to fill in the gap with a sharp increase in activity, like deer overpopulation resulting from lack of predators as if all the active incest somehow stopped more people from eating themselves or other people.

[fantasydreamland]

Lonely Nights

khaleesi x fem reader

Summary: You were her handmaiden in Pentos. You followed her and the khalasar when she married Khal Drogo. You have been by her side through all the heartbreak after he died. You all continue your travels and one lonely night Daenerys invites you to her tent for comfort.

Notes: 18+ ONLY!!!! soft khaleesi, wlw, inspired by that doreah scene, smutttt, dry humping, fingering, oral (f&f), fluff fluff fluff, slight angst, some spoilers

word count: 1016

masterlist

“You called for me Khaleesi?” You say as you enter her tent late at night.

“(y/n), yes… I just cannot find sleep. Truthfully it has been difficult sleeping alone.” She says sadly, “An odd request to ask of you but- would you just lay with me?”

“Uh, yes, of course, Khaleesi.” You say a bit timid.

She moves to make room for you as you climb into her bed and lay beside her. She sighs, stuck in thought.

“If you want to talk with me Khaleesi, you know I am here to listen.” You gently say.

“I don’t know. I have just been feeling so dreadful after everything that has happened.” She confesses. “My nights have been restless.”

“Of course Khaleesi. You have been through so much of late. It is no wonder your mind won’t silence.” You say as you both slightly turn to face eachother.

“It has felt rather lonely…” she sighs. “You are truly the only person I feel I can trust (y/n)”

“I am glad to be the one who you can depend on.” You give a soft smile.

She smiles at your words and gazes into your eyes creating unknown tension between you. Her beauty was even more breathtaking up close like this.

You clear your throat to break the tension.

“Hmm,” she smiles turning her face. “I suppose I should try and get some rest.”

“Of course, Khaleesi. I will be right here.” You give a soft smile.

You both drift off to sleep until she gasps waking from a nightmare. You jolt awake.

“Are you alright Khaleesi?” you ask, concern in your voice.

“Yes. Yes. I-I’m fine.” She pants. “Just another dream.”

She turns to you and her startled face softens.

“It is nice to see your face when I wake though.” She lightly brushes hair from your face. “Thank you for staying with me.”

“Of course, Khaleesi.” You almost whisper, lightly touching her arm.

She lightly touches your arm in response, giving you a grateful look. This leads to delicate appreciative touches on eachothers arms, hair, cheeks. The electricity between you becoming more intense. She holds your cheek for a moment, her soft doe eyes looking longingly into yours. You feel your heart stop. You watch her quickly glance to your lips and back to your eyes. You do the same, your stare lingering on her lips for a longer moment before meeting her gaze again.

She slightly shuffles closer to you, and you do the same, her hand still on your cheek and your eyes never parting. You both continue to slowly move closer to eachother until you’re merely a breath away.

Her eyes continue to gaze into yours, with a more heated look. The moment is unbearably slow as you inch your faces closer until you connect with the lightest kiss, lips barely touching. After parting you both look at eachother, eyes full of lust and excitement, before meeting your lips again. You moan as your tongues gently dance together, it slowly builds into a deeper more passionate kiss. She pulls your body closer against her and you move to straddle her, lips never parting. Her breath hitches as you begin to grind against her, she grabs your hips to aid your movements.

Your lips part as you sit up, rhythmically moving your body on her creating friction of pleasure. The new position adding more pressure. You both breathe heavily as you now move back and forth faster, harder, her fingers digging into your hips and yours into her legs behind you. She gazes up at you admiring all of your beautiful features. You do the same admiring her golden beauty below you.

As your heavy breaths turn into whimpers and moans her hands wander slowly up and down your body. You both let out a long final moan as fireworks explode within your bodies. The whole khalasar able to hear but neither of you could find care in that moment.

With heavy breaths your lustful eyes meet once again. You both break into a small smile and giggle until her eyes turn heated once more. You gasp as she quickly grabs you and flips you over, laying on top of you. You moan as she boldly kisses your lips hard before moving down your neck and chest. She moves below your shirt and kisses down your stomach as her hands push up your skirts. Without hesitation she moves her mouth onto your core drawing a loud whimper from your throat. Your hands nestle into her golden hair as her tongue expertly licks your bundle of nerves. She slowly slips in her fingers causing a long groan from you. She moans against you at the way you tighten around her. Her tongue hits the perfect rhythm as her fingers move slowly in and out of you. You pant and moan as you begin to reach your second peak, grinding against her face. Her fingers suddenly speed up causing wave after wave of pleasure to hit you. You cry out her name before letting out a final heavy breath.

She gives a shy smirk as she moves back up and lands her lips on yours, tasting yourself on her tongue. You quickly push up her skirts and she yelps as you pull her onto your face. Before you’ve really even begun she already cries out, quickly hitting her own second peak as she rides out the wave of it against your mouth. She looks down at you with heavy eyes before plopping down on the bed beside you.

You lay face to face and give bashful smirks and giggles. She looks at you like she wants to speak but doesn’t know what to say.

“Goodnight Khaleesi.” You smile and brush her hair from her face.

“Goodnight (y/n).” She blushes and gives a soft smiles back.

You watch her quickly drift off to sleep before you follow right after. Khaleesi had the first peaceful sleep in a long time. No longer awakening to nightmares, but waking up to the relief of seeing your lovely face laying beside her.

masterlist

[daenerystargarycn]

hot take maybe but the only reason most show runners/producers/writers/etc. age up the (female) characters from book to show adaptation is to overtly sexualize them and not face mass amounts of scrutiny for it.

put 13 year old daenerys next to 30 year old drogo and the audience understands that daenerys is a victim to him and not an equal. put 22 year old emilia clarke as daenerys next to 32 year old jason mamoa as drogo and they’re seen as a budding romance with a tragic ending (by the general audience) due to their on screen chemistry.

flash forward to today, and now we’re dealing with 21 year old milly alcock playing rhaenyra from 14-19 and how her relationship with (28 year old fabien) a mid twenties criston is seen as -morally acceptable- and not a result of a degenerate pedophile taking advantage of and grooming his charge. “ser criston protects the princess from her enemies, but who protects the princess from ser criston?” rhaenyra was 14 when rumors started speculating that she slept with an almost 30 year old criston. a criston who had know her since she was 8 and had been her sworn shield since she was 9. obviously seeing a teenager in the early stages of puberty next to a fully grown man would emphasize rhaenyra being THE victim, as opposed to the show having an 18-19 year old explore her sexuality and seek out ‘consensual’ sex with her peer bodyguard. the discourse has even reached the point where certain stans try to paint the much younger woman as the perpetrator and aggressor of this event, who forced the unassuming man into having sex with her.

i’ll even take this a step farther, and bring up how if they had shown a 19 year old alicent abusing a 10 year old rhaenyra it would be identified and mutually agreed upon as a reprehensible act on alicent’s part. instead they’re of similar age, so people can attempt to paint the picture as two women of equal standing hating each other, and not a much older woman bullying a motherless child. once again however, some stans even go so far as to try and paint alicent as a victim of rhaenyra, and not the other way around. further cementing this is how both versions of alicent are younger than both versions of rhaenyra, AND how criston is still played by an actor who is younger than older!rhaenyra despite his character being the same age as daemon in canon.

they know exactly what they’re doing too, considering they aged alicent down to give her that innate compassion one typically feels when seeing children being abused on tv (something that can no longer be applied to rhaenyra). despite that never being her story; *she* was the abuser, and rhaenyra was her victim. criston’s victim. it’s a nasty cop out, and i wish more people would call out how sickening it is to flip the switch and attempt to make abusive individuals more sympathetic than the *actual* victims of said abusers.

[llonelygoddess]

How they react to...Finding out you're pregnant

Romantic Pairings: Ned Stark, Margaery Tyrell, Theon Greyjoy, Jaime Lannister, Khal Drogo, Jorah Mormont, Brienne of Tarth, Missandei, Podrick, Gendry

Ned Stark: This man is over the moon when you tell him you’re expecting. He’s raised 5 already but for you he’d raise another 5 if possible lol He’s always got his hands on your belly and asking if you need anything. His favorite thing to do is talking to the baby later at night when you’re asleep, whispering how much it’ll be loved and cared for by the both of you.

Margaery Tyrell: Thrilled. You two definitely planned this pregnancy so she’s thrilled to hear you’ve finally conceived. She’s keeping Maesters around the clock just for you and making sure you have regular check ups. You both love looking at all the fabrics and books and toys you’ll be gifting your baby. She wants this child to have everything she had and more, so beware your child may be spoiled rotten lol

Pre Reek!Theon Greyjoy: Theon doesn’t even know what to say. He’s nervous about what that would mean for you and the child title wise. Would the babe be labeled a bastard? Would you be treated as a whore? The questions will drive him crazy if you don’t bring him back down to earth. As much as he’s there for you, you have to be there for him during this time.

Jaime Lannister: In the beginning he’s more worried than anything. Knowing how crazy Cersei is he has to hide you away, promising to be with you soon. Once he finds a way to sneak away to you for good, he’s all hands on deck. He’d learn to cook a bit, take up the cleaning, even learn to stitch a little to give the baby an embroidered blanket. It’s not what you expected but considering his other kids barely know him it makes sense how serious he is about this one. He wants to get it right this time.

Khal Drogo: He sees you as his goddess, mesmerized with the way you carry his child. He kisses your belly and announces it to the whole Khalasar. During your pregnancy he doesn’t baby you, finding beauty in your strength, but he is wary of you being around the other men. They’re rough and callous and you are soft and breakable, something that keeps him up at night. Whenever he goes out riding he always comes back with a gift that he presents to you in front of everyone.

Jorah Mormont: He never thought he’d be lucky enough to have children, especially with someone as special as you. He’s definitely crying when he hears the news. He can’t help it, a family of his own is all he’s ever wanted. Even knowing how strong you are, he’ll ask you to stay home and to let him do any and all work that needs to be done. He’s heard horror stories of pregnancies going wrong and he refuses to let anything happen to you.

Brienne of Tarth: Finding out you're pregnant would be the scariest moment of her life. Which isn't to say she doesn't want kids, but the world you live in wasn't ready for a relationship like yours. Two non-men finding love within each other wasn't accepted, let alone them raising a child together. Eventually, through many talks with you and Podrick, she calms down enough to enjoy this special moment in time with you.

Missandei: When Missandei first finds out, she's immediately in preparation mode. With the life she's lived she knows how cruel and evil life can be, so she takes it upon herself to make everything as perfect for you and the babe as possible. She’s asking Danaerys for healers and compiling blankets and toys from nearby towns. You’ll want for nothing with her by your side. When she’s not in crisis mode she’s sitting with you in bed fantasizing about the languages and history she’ll teach the baby.

Podrick: He gets so overwhelmed when you tell him he faints. Poor bb. When he wakes he asks if it was a dream and when you tell him no he kisses you. He’s another one that never really thought about having a family but he’s more than ready and capable of doing it. He’s always gushing about you and the baby to Brienne or really anyone who’ll listen. Loves to put his ear to your belly and just listen.

Gendry: He never planned to have kids so young, but when you told him about the baby he realized this was his moment to step up and be better. Being a Lord now he’s able to take care of you in ways he never thought he could. Giving you a handmaid and guards is just the beginning of how he wants to support you. He worries all nine months about whether he'll be good enough for your babe, so please rub his back and tell him he'll be the best dad ever. And he will.

[branwinged]

dragon discussions are usually about the dualism of dragonfire's destructive capabilities and fire as an element of life in the fight against eternal winter, which is also what i've focused on before. but reading fire & blood rn and realising their ability to fly is an overlooked aspect of the way dragons are being used in the story. flight in f&b serves two major purposes. dragons are, of course, their main claim to power, dragons made them kings. flight then becomes a way of placing them quite literally above the rest of the population because they're not simply nobility, they're royalty. flight also signifies a disregard for all enclosure—it's the way aegon, rhaenys, and visenya begin the conquest by effortlessly flying inside castle walls. emphasised most in the burning of harrenhal ("Those walls are strong and thick" / "But not so high as to keep out dragons. Dragons fly.") —flight here is put to use as both invasive entry and a show of dominance as aegon takes balerion and descends well within castle walls to set harrenhal ablaze. but this goes both ways, because the castle also signifies (gendered) entrapment. which is why flying is consistently described as the one great love of a great many targaryen women, because on dragonback they're the equals of targaryen men, capable of fulfilling the same role in warfare. but back on ground they're eventually expected to fall back into the gender roles demanded of them (and i think hotd's opening is doing both with rhaenyra. she's a targaryen princess and the privilege of flight is hers alone, contrasted with alicent remaining on ground. and rhaenyra is free and wild and happy in the air, but two scene changes later, on ground and inside castle walls, aemma tells her she's destined for the birthing bed)

in the main series flight is always, unsurprisingly associated with freedom, and not simply from gendered expectations, because unlike her royal ancestors dany's life has been defined by dispossession. forced out of her home and on the run, under the primary care of an abusive brother until that brother sells her for an army—dany has never truly known material safety or independence. which is why flight is the great appeal of her dragon dreams in agot (Flying, she thought. I had wings, I was flying. But it was only a dream) and something first made obvious with silver, the horse drogo presents her with at their wedding.

The silver horse leapt the flames as if she had wings.

she said, “Tell Khal Drogo that he has given me the wind.”

And for the first time in hours, she forgot to be afraid. Or perhaps it was for the first time ever.

silver represents the modicum of freedom she acquires through their marriage. yes, she is thirteen and is sold to drogo as his property and he rapes her nightly, but her status as khaleesi is what finally frees her from viserys. drogo kills him not out of any particular love for her, but because viserys threatens to hurt the mother of his child. silver is a symbol of that protection drogo provided but being khaleesi won't truly liberate her—she loses everything the moment drogo dies. but what does free her in the end is her dragon dreams.

She could smell home, she could see it, there, just beyond that [red] door, green fields and great stone houses and arms to keep her warm, there. She threw open the door. And saw her brother Rhaegar, mounted on a stallion as black as his armor. Fire glimmered red through the narrow eye slit of his helm. “The last dragon,” Ser Jorah’s voice whispered faintly. “The last, the last.” Dany lifted his polished black visor. The face within was her own.

it's interesting the way the red door in the house with the lemon tree is meant to be her version of security and stability and personal freedom, that's home. when she imagines king's landing she imagines every door painted red. but what she finds within once she opens the door is herself. perhaps then, home for her is not a material location she must look for. instead security and freedom for daenerys is her identity as the last targaryen, the last dragon and when she understands that truth (the fire is mine), she walks into that pyre and sets herself free.

it's not yet a role she's entirely, unhesitatingly stepped into. adwd is the book in which dany struggles most with her targaryen heritage, represented in the way she locks away her dragons once drogon eats that little girl, but the solution doesn't lie in rejecting it. chaining the dragons led to her own entrapment in meereen, which is why drogon appearing in the fighting pits is so obviously a rescue. what she must to do is redefine what it means to be a dragon, and i think she will, she's already halfway there in the way dragons and the magic they embody are being redeemed through dany righting the wrongs of her valyrian ancestors. flight as a symbol of dehumanising oppression in the freehold with the dragonlords in the sky as the slaves toiled away in the mines underground vs flight now as a symbol of enduring hope and freedom for the dispossessed.

[novaursa]

Legacy (of the east and the west)

- Summary: Tywin was the man who saved you from Robert's wrath. He was also the man who doomed you.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Tywin Lannister

- Note: Just a reminder how some things are different from the canon. Any diviation from the books/show you notice is on purpose.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: drawing the lines

- Next part: winds of winter

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @luniaxifics @alkadri-layal @butterflygxril

The quiet of the late morning filled the chamber in Dragonstone, the distant crashing of waves against the rocky shores serving as a soothing backdrop. Daenerys Targaryen sat near the tall, arched windows, holding Maelor in her lap. The boy, with his silver-gold curls and curious violet eyes, grasped at her braid, babbling softly in his innocent wonder. Across the room, you knelt beside Damon, who was occupied with a small wooden lion and dragon toy, his young mind lost in the imagined battles between the creatures.

A soft smile tugged at your lips as you watched your eldest. “Rhaegar would have loved to see this,” you said, your tone thoughtful, almost wistful.

Daenerys glanced up from Maelor, curiosity flickering in her gaze. “Our brother,” she said softly, testing the weight of the words. “Viserys spoke of him, but I was too young to remember much. What was he like?”

You leaned back slightly, your eyes distant as you gathered your thoughts. “He was everything a Targaryen prince was supposed to be. Noble, kind, and burdened with the weight of prophecy. He was… driven by the idea that he had a role to play, a destiny to fulfill.”

Daenerys tilted her head, gently brushing her fingers through Maelor’s soft curls. “He believed in the prophecies, then.”

You nodded, a faint smile tugging at your lips as you recalled your brother. “Yes. He studied them obsessively. He thought himself the prince that was promised—or that his children might be. It gave him purpose, but it also consumed him. Everything he did, he believed was for the good of the realm, even when it hurt those he loved.”

Daenerys was silent for a moment, her gaze thoughtful as she watched Maelor squirm in her arms, reaching for the delicate silver chain around her neck. “And yet, his choices led to so much death. So much pain.”

Your expression turned somber, and you let out a quiet sigh. “He was not perfect. None of us are. But he believed in something greater than himself, and in the end, that belief was his undoing.”

Daenerys shifted her gaze to Damon, who was now engrossed in his toys, his laughter ringing softly in the chamber. “It’s strange to think of him as a father. To imagine him holding a child, playing with them as you do with yours.”

A faint smile crossed your lips. “He would have been a wonderful father. He adored his son, Aegon, and he would have doted on his daughter as well.” Your voice softened, tinged with sorrow. “But fate had other plans.”

The room fell into a contemplative silence, the weight of lost family hanging between you both. After a moment, Daenerys broke the quiet, her voice lower, almost hesitant. “I, too, know what it is to lose a child.”

You looked at her sharply, your expression softening as you saw the pain flicker in her gaze.

“My son, Rhaego,” Daenerys continued, her voice steady but filled with quiet anguish. “He was to be my strength, my legacy. But the gods—or the fates—saw fit to take him from me before he could even draw breath.”

You reached out, placing a gentle hand on her arm. “I’m so sorry, Daenerys. No mother should have to endure such pain.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she glanced away, her fingers brushing against Maelor’s tiny hand as he played with the silver chain around her neck. “The loss nearly broke me. And the sorcery used to save Drogo... it left me unable to bear children. I will never have another.”

Your heart ached for her, and you squeezed her arm gently. “Daenerys…”

She turned back to you, her expression resolute despite the sorrow in her eyes. “If you would support me, sister, if you would stand beside me in my claim to the Iron Throne, I would name one of your sons my heir. They are Targaryens by blood, and they deserve to carry our legacy.”

You blinked, taken aback by the declaration. For a moment, you said nothing, your gaze flickering to Damon and Maelor. The thought of either of your boys being thrust into the chaos of rulership, the weight of the Iron Throne bearing down on their young shoulders, sent a shiver through you.

“I wouldn’t want that for them,” you said softly but firmly, meeting Daenerys’s gaze. “The Iron Throne is not a gift—it’s a death sentence. It has taken so much from all of us. I will not let it take my sons.”

Daenerys’s expression faltered, a flicker of disappointment crossing her face. “But they are Targaryens. They are part of the legacy we were born to uphold.”

You shook your head gently. “They are children, Daenerys. They deserve to grow up without the burden of a throne weighing on their shoulders. I want them to laugh, to play, to live.”

For a moment, Daenerys looked as though she might argue, but then she sighed, her shoulders sagging slightly. “I understand your fears. But our family’s legacy must live on, one way or another.”

You offered her a faint smile, your tone softening. “Our legacy will live on, Daenerys. But it doesn’t have to be through the Iron Throne. There are other ways to honor our family, to ensure that the world remembers us.”

Daenerys nodded slowly, her gaze returning to Maelor, who had begun to doze off in her arms, his tiny hands clutching her braid. “Perhaps you’re right,” she said quietly, though her tone was tinged with uncertainty.

The quiet clink of wine goblets echoed in the chamber as Tyrion poured himself another drink, the rich Dornish red catching the glow of the hearth. Across the table, Jaime leaned back in his chair, his golden hand resting idly on the armrest while his remaining hand toyed with the stem of his goblet.

“I must say,” Tyrion began, swirling the wine thoughtfully, “Father appears to have grown soft in his old age. The Tywin Lannister I remember wouldn’t have allowed Daenerys Targaryen or her band of merry foreign invaders to so much as set foot on these shores.”

Jaime arched a brow, his tone dry. “Soft? I’m sure he’d love to hear you say that. Go on, Tyrion. March into his study and tell him. I’ll make sure there’s a maester nearby for when he decides to rearrange your face.”

Tyrion smirked, tipping his goblet toward Jaime in mock toast. “Oh, I wouldn’t dare. But you can’t deny it, brother. The old lion is different. Less... ferocious, perhaps?”

Jaime took a slow sip of his wine, his gaze distant for a moment. “It’s not softness,” he said finally, his tone quieter. “It’s her.”

Tyrion tilted his head, intrigued. “Her? Do elaborate.”

Jaime gestured vaguely with his goblet. “Our stepmother. The dragon who sleeps beside him and gives him heirs. She tempers him in ways I don’t think even he realizes.”

Tyrion leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as his smirk widened. “Ah, the infamous second Lady Lannister. The last I saw of her was under rather... unique circumstances.”

Jaime’s brows furrowed slightly. “Unique how?”

Tyrion shrugged, taking a sip of his wine. “The night you freed me, remember? I couldn’t resist sneaking one last look at dear Father before I made my escape. I found him in her chambers, fast asleep. And there she was, curled beside him like some Valyrian myth. And Damon—tiny little Damon—snug in his cradle near the bed. Quite the domestic scene.”

Jaime let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “You’re lucky he didn’t wake up and catch you.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t have lived to tell the tale,” Tyrion agreed, though his tone was far from serious. “Still, it was fascinating. Father, the great Tywin Lannister, sleeping soundly and sharing chambers with a Targaryen woman and a newborn. Who would have thought?”

Jaime’s expression turned more thoughtful, his fingers tapping lightly against his goblet. “She changed him. Or maybe she reminded him of something he’d long forgotten. Father’s always been about legacy, power, control. But with her... it’s different.”

“How poetic,” Tyrion quipped, though his tone was less biting than usual. “The dragon queen tames the lion. Tell me, does she breathe fire in her sleep?”

Jaime shot him a warning glance, but there was no real malice behind it. “You should be careful how you speak about her, Tyrion. She’s earned her place here.”

Tyrion studied his brother for a moment, his smirk fading slightly. “You respect her.”

“I do,” Jaime admitted, his tone firm. “She’s strong, clever, and loyal. She’s given Father something none of us could—a chance to build something that lasts. And for all her Targaryen fire, she’s... kind, in her way.”

Tyrion took another sip of his wine, his gaze thoughtful. “Kindness and Tywin Lannister. There’s a combination I never thought I’d see.”

Jaime chuckled softly, shaking his head. “It’s not as strange as you think. She balances him, even if he’d never admit it. And Damon... Maelor... they’ve softened him in ways I didn’t think possible.”

Tyrion leaned back in his chair, his mismatched eyes glinting with curiosity. “It’s strange, isn’t it? To see him as a father again. Not just our father, but their father. Do you think he loves them?”

Jaime’s expression turned serious, his tone certain. “I do. As much as Tywin Lannister is capable of love, he loves them. He’s different with them than he was with us. More patient. More... human.”

Tyrion let out a quiet laugh, though it lacked his usual bite. “What a world we live in. Tywin Lannister, the lion tamed by a dragon and her brood. If only Mother could see this.”

Jaime’s gaze darkened slightly at the mention of their mother, but he said nothing, taking another sip of his wine. The silence between them was heavy but not uncomfortable, the weight of shared history filling the space.

Finally, Tyrion spoke again, his voice softer. “Do you think she understands?”

Jaime frowned. “Understands what?”

“About what Father’s done. To her family. To ours. Does she carry the weight of it, or has she convinced herself that love can erase the blood he’s spilled?”

Jaime’s jaw tightened, but his tone was calm. “She understands. She carries it. But she also believes in moving forward. She’s not blind to what Father is, but she chooses to stand beside him, knowing what they’ve built together.”

Tyrion nodded slowly, his gaze distant. “A dragon and a lion. Quite the tale for the bards, isn’t it?”

Jaime smirked faintly, raising his goblet. “It is. But we’re still in the middle of the story.”

Tyrion raised his goblet in return, his smirk returning. “Here’s to hoping it doesn’t end in fire and blood.”

Jaime clinked his goblet against Tyrion’s, though there was a flicker of doubt in his eyes. “We’ll see.”

Daenerys Targaryen, unflinching and determined, stepped into the room where Tywin Lannister awaited her. He stood near a table scattered with maps and letters, the weight of his command visible in every deliberate movement. His back was turned to her as she entered, but she knew he was aware of her presence.

“Lord Tywin,” Daenerys said, her voice steady but sharp.

Tywin straightened, turning slowly to face her. His gaze was cold, calculating, and unyielding—a lion sizing up its prey. “Daenerys Targaryen,” he replied, his tone clipped. “To what do I owe this honor?”

Daenerys stepped closer. “I wanted to speak with you. Alone. Without my sister, without your councilors. Just us.”

Tywin arched a brow but gestured to a nearby chair. “Then speak.”

Daenerys remained standing, her hands clasped in front of her as she regarded him carefully. “You are the man responsible for so much of my family’s pain. For the deaths of my brother’s children, for the destruction of our house. And now you stand here, married to my sister, the mother of your children.”

Tywin’s expression didn’t waver. “You’ve come to blame me for the past, then. I’ve no intention of apologizing for doing what needed to be done.”

Daenerys’s eyes narrowed. “What needed to be done? You slaughtered innocents. You betrayed your king. You destroyed the Targaryen dynasty.”

Tywin’s lip curled faintly. “Aerys destroyed himself long before I made my move. He was a madman, a danger to the realm. The Targaryen dynasty wasn’t destroyed by me, Daenerys. It was undone by your father’s madness and your brother’s arrogance.”

Her voice rose slightly, her anger flaring. “And yet you sought to profit from that madness. You married your daughter to Robert Baratheon, the man who led the rebellion.”

Tywin took a step closer, his presence looming. “And I preserved my house in the process. House Lannister stands because I made the hard choices your father was too weak to make.”

Daenerys flinched slightly but stood her ground. “You betrayed us.”

“I did what was necessary to ensure stability,” Tywin countered, his voice calm but firm. “And your sister—your sister is alive because of me.”

Daenerys blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift. “Why bring this up now?”

Tywin’s expression softened slightly, though his tone remained authoritative. “After Robert’s Rebellion, the realm demanded blood. Every Targaryen, dead or captured. I ensured your sister was neither. I made a deal with House Stark, placing her in the North under their protection. She was safe because of me.”

Daenerys’s jaw tightened, her emotions a storm of anger and confusion. “And you later married her. Was that part of your grand plan as well? To take a Targaryen bride and tie her to your house?”

Tywin’s gaze didn’t waver. “I married her because she is strong, intelligent, and loyal. She has given me sons who will inherit a world I have built with my own hands.”

For a moment, Daenerys faltered. There was something in his tone, a quiet reverence that made her pause. “You speak of her... differently. With respect.”

Tywin’s expression turned reflective, his voice dropping slightly. “Your sister is a woman unlike any other. She understands the weight of duty, the cost of sacrifice. She has borne much, yet she endures. Aerys made a mistake refusing to give her hand to me when I proposed it years ago. Perhaps things would have been different if he had.”

Daenerys’s eyes widened, her mind reeling at the revelation. “You sought her hand before all of this?”

“I did,” Tywin said plainly. “She was young, but I saw the potential in her. Aerys refused, of course. Said no Lannister was fit to marry a Targaryen. His arrogance knew no bounds.”

Daenerys struggled to process his words. “And now you claim her as your own. You, the man who betrayed my family.”

Tywin’s voice hardened again. “I claim her because she chose me. I didn’t force her hand. She stands with me because she understands the realities of the world in a way you do not.”

Daenerys’s hands balled into fists at her sides, her voice biting. “You think me naive?”

“I think you see the world as you want it to be,” Tywin replied. “Not as it is.”

There was a long silence as they stared at each other, two powerful figures standing on opposite sides of history and ambition. Finally, Daenerys broke the quiet, her voice quieter but no less determined. “I came here to find allies, not to reopen old wounds.”

Tywin tilted his head slightly. “And yet here you stand, letting those wounds guide you. If you want to lead, Daenerys, you must let the past be what it is: a lesson, not a shackle.”

She turned to leave, her shoulders rigid as she processed his words. At the door, she paused, glancing back at him. “You speak of lessons, Lord Tywin. Perhaps you should heed them yourself.”

With that, she swept from the room, leaving Tywin alone once more. He watched her go, his expression unreadable, before returning to his maps. The fire crackled softly in the silence, a quiet reminder of the unrelenting forces shaping their world.

The stone corridors of Dragonstone echoed with the sound of tiny, hurried footsteps. Damon, with his silver-gold curls bouncing as he ran, darted around a corner, clutching a small wooden dragon in one hand and laughing to himself. Behind him, a group of Lannister guards rushed in pursuit, their armor clanking with every step.

“Careful, my lord!” one of the guards called, his voice tinged with both panic and frustration. “You shouldn’t be running off like this!”

Damon giggled, clearly enjoying his escapade. The toddler’s energy was boundless, and he was far too swift for the heavily armored men chasing after him.

As Damon rounded another corner, he suddenly stopped short. Standing in his path was Grey Worm, clad in his polished Unsullied armor, his spear resting lightly in his hand. The warrior raised an eyebrow at the sight of the small boy barreling toward him.

Damon tilted his head, staring up at Grey Worm with wide, curious eyes. “Who are you?” he asked, his voice high and inquisitive.

Grey Worm lowered his spear slightly, his stoic expression softening just a fraction. “I am Grey Worm,” he replied, his voice calm and measured.

Damon blinked, his gaze traveling over the armor and the spear. “You have a big stick,” he said matter-of-factly, pointing at the weapon.

Grey Worm’s lips twitched, almost forming a smile. “It is not a stick. It is a spear.”

Damon’s eyes lit up with interest. “Spear! Can I have one?”

The guards finally caught up, panting as they came to a halt behind Damon. “My lord, you cannot just run off like that,” one of them scolded gently, though his tone was more exasperated than angry.

Damon ignored them, his attention fully focused on Grey Worm. “Can I see your spear?” he asked, holding up his wooden dragon in exchange. “I’ll trade you this.”

Grey Worm glanced at the guards, who looked mortified, then back at Damon. “It is not a toy, little one,” he said, his voice still calm.

Damon frowned, clearly unimpressed by the refusal. “But I’m big! I’m three!” He held up three fingers proudly.

The guards shifted uncomfortably, unsure of how to handle the situation. One of them stepped forward. “Apologies, Commander Grey Worm. The young lord has a... lively spirit.”

Grey Worm nodded slightly but kept his gaze on Damon. “Lively spirit is good. It is the spirit of a warrior.”

Damon’s frown melted into a wide grin. “I’m a warrior! Like my papa!”

One of the guards suppressed a smile, muttering under his breath, “Just like his father, indeed.”

Grey Worm crouched slightly to meet Damon’s eye level. “A warrior listens to those who protect him,” he said, his tone carrying a hint of authority. “Will you listen?”

Damon hesitated, his small brows furrowing as he considered the words. Then he nodded solemnly. “I’ll listen. But only if you let me touch the spear.”

The guards exchanged glances, unsure whether to intervene, but Grey Worm extended the spear cautiously, holding it firm as Damon reached out with both hands to touch the shaft. The boy’s face lit up with excitement as his small fingers ran along the smooth wood.

“It’s so big!” Damon exclaimed, looking up at Grey Worm in awe.

Grey Worm straightened, his usual stoicism returning. “And heavy. You will need to grow strong to carry one.”

“I will! I eat all my porridge!” Damon declared confidently.

One of the guards stepped forward, bowing slightly to Grey Worm. “Commander, we appreciate your patience. We’ll take the young lord back to his mother now.”

Grey Worm nodded curtly. “Keep him safe.”

Damon pouted as the guards gently ushered him away. “Bye, Grey Worm!” he called, waving his wooden dragon in farewell. “Next time, I’ll show you my dragon!”

Grey Worm inclined his head slightly, watching as the boy was led away. His gaze lingered for a moment before he turned back toward his duties, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips.

As the guards led Damon back toward the family chambers, one muttered to his comrade, “That boy’s going to be trouble when he’s older.”

The other chuckled softly. “He already is.”

The cool sea breeze swept over the battlements of Dragonstone, carrying with it the tang of salt and the distant cries of gulls. The night sky was clear, the stars glittering above as you and Tywin walked side by side, your steps measured against the stone as you spoke of weighty matters.

“We should consider leaving Dragonstone,” you suggested, your tone thoughtful but firm. “Let Daenerys remain here. She could be a useful ally against the threat in the North.”

Tywin’s gaze didn’t waver as he replied, his voice calm but edged with steel. “You would have us abandon this place to her? A woman who brings foreign invaders to our shores and claims a throne she has no right to? I think not.”

You sighed, glancing out over the black waves crashing below. “She’s my sister, Tywin. Whatever she has done, whatever her intentions, there is value in her presence here. The North faces a threat unlike any we’ve ever known. The dead march. Daenerys could help us, with her dragons, her army.”

Tywin stopped, turning to face you fully. His green eyes were cold and calculating as they bore into yours. “And what happens when the threat from the North is dealt with? Do you believe she will simply stay on Dragonstone, content to rule over nothing? She will turn her attention south, to King’s Landing, to the Iron Throne.”

You met his gaze, unflinching. “And do you think keeping her here, under your watch, will stop her from harboring those ambitions? She is determined, Tywin, but she’s not reckless. If we work with her instead of against her, we might stand a better chance of controlling the outcome.”

Tywin’s lips pressed into a thin line as he considered your words. The silence between you stretched, filled only by the distant crash of waves and the faint murmur of guards patrolling nearby.

“She is a foreign invader,” Tywin said finally, his voice low but unyielding. “And a Targaryen, no less. The realm will never accept her as its queen. And even if it did, I will not allow her to undermine everything I have built.”

You stepped closer, your tone softening but remaining firm. “What you’ve built, Tywin, is fragile. The realm is fractured, and winter is here. The North is barely held together, the Riverlands are still in chaos, and now the dead march beyond the Wall. Daenerys may not be someone you or I would choose, but she has resources we cannot ignore.”

He looked away briefly, his gaze sweeping over the darkened expanse of the sea. When he spoke again, his tone was quieter, almost contemplative. “She would betray us the moment it suited her. You know this as well as I do.”

You hesitated, your expression softening. “Perhaps. But perhaps not. She has suffered as we have. She’s lost her family, her home. I believe she wants more than just power, Tywin. She wants to belong, to rebuild what was taken from her.”

Tywin scoffed faintly, though it lacked his usual venom. “And what of your sons? Damon and Maelor. Would you risk their future by allowing her to remain?”

Your gaze hardened slightly at the mention of your children, but you kept your voice steady. “I would risk nothing. If she becomes a threat, we deal with her. But if she proves an ally, think of what we could achieve. The North needs our help, Tywin. If we turn our backs on them, we doom not just ourselves, but the realm.”

He studied you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he sighed, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “You are asking me to gamble with everything I have built. Everything I have secured for our family.”

“I am asking you to see reason,” you countered gently. “To think beyond banners and bloodlines. The world is changing, Tywin. If we don’t change with it, we will be swept away.”

He was silent for a long moment, his gaze fixed on the horizon. Finally, he turned back to you, his green eyes piercing but less cold. “I will consider it.”

You smiled faintly, placing a hand on his arm. “That’s all I ask.”

He didn’t reply, but his hand covered yours briefly, a rare moment of quiet affection in the midst of so much uncertainty. Together, you turned back toward the keep, the weight of the realm’s future pressing heavily on both your shoulders.

[ai-manre]

Reread Sansa's sample TWOW chapter today after very long, and I enjoyed it so much! I had totally forgotten how much I like book!Sansa. Especially her Alayne chapters are so good, where she is teasing knights, gossiping with Lady Myranda, and having fun in general.

I see fans often claiming that Sansa is going to be Queen eventually because she has a leadership/ruler arc. This is flat-out wrong. She does not have a ruler arc, in the Vale, Sansa is learning two things:

Being a Lady of the House. She is doing all the household management, organization, image politicking, handling the guests and house members in the appropriate manners etc. She is also playing at being the proper Westerosi maiden, flirting with Harry and other knights, and acting the scared damsel in distress when needed. And what's more, she is good at it and loving it.

Scheming. That's what she is learning from Littlefinger. To be a political schemer, playing the game of thrones and manipulating things behind the scenes. Littlefinger is no leader by himself, he's a player.

In other words, she is following in Catelyn's footsteps of being a lady with political acumen. Fitting the mold of the society but also exceeding it. Only, Sansa has the advantage of a teacher like Littlefinger (I'm only talking about his scheming skill which he is teaching), so eventually she will get to succeed where Catelyn had failed.

This is why I don't see any chance of her being a ruler in her own name, because till now, Sansa's arc has never been about ruling. In the Eyrie, her role and thoughts are myopically focused on the household, the guests they must entertain, coaxing Sweetrobin, the schemes to play, the right image to project, which servants are suited to which task and such. It's never about how winter impact will impact the kingdom how much food is in their granaries, how the smallfolk are faring, how well she thinks the existing governing systems are functioning, how well justice is being done, how to benefit the kingdom as a whole.

This is big picture stuff, elements of ruling a kingdom or an institution, not just a household. These are all elements very strongly present from the beginning in the arcs of the leaders: Dany, Cersei, Jon, Tyrion. The difference is noticeable especially in the case of the main budding leaders of the story: Dany and Jon, where such qualities had existed in them even before actually becoming leaders. For example, Jon spends AGOT gaining a leadership position among the new recruits of the Night's Watch inspiring them, he assesses the existing institution and framework of the Night's Watch and finds it lacking when someone like Sam is not utilized, negotiates with Maester Aemon based on his argument that every tool has its place, gets himself into a position where he's groomed for leadership. Dany spends AGOT learning to command, first by rightly assessing Viserys and ordering him punished, then proactively taking the Lhazareen women under her protection against Drogo's wish, then inspiring the rest of her khalasar and Ser Jorah to become hers, her men. Those traits had to be planted very early for both Dany and Jon to become such competent leaders at their young age. In each book, they encountered leadership challenges, they led people, negotiated deals, showed military prowess, administrative actions, had clear visions of what they wanted to change.

[reginarubie]

My fellow Jonsas… how could I have missed this?

Daenerys/Viserys: see other people get loved and respected and they want that.

Daenerys/Viserys: choose fear and violence (he threatens Dany; she burns KL)

But it gets better

Daenerys/Viserys: threat their loved one (specifically one person in their life) — Viserys threatens Dany and her unborn child, Dany threatens Sansa (it’s all her fault. She did this, when speaking about Varys) and the other Starks.

Jon/Drogo: 👀👀

Daenerys/Viserys: smile when they think they’re getting what they want (a crown and Jon next to her “breaking the wheel”)

Jon/Drogo: after having appeased Dany/Viserys with words (“I’ll give him a crown” and makes her believe he believes in the world she will build “you are my queen”) — KILLS THEM because they have threatened their loved ones.

Drogo: promises Dany and her unborn child the Iron throne (her father’s seat)

Jon: “Ned Stark’s daughter will speak for them (the North) she’s the best they could ask for”

Drogo/Jon: both kill a mad/power hungry Targaryen to protect the women they love and ensure they have their father’s seat for their future children.

How have I not noticed this parallel before?????

[two-white-butterflies]

the sun sets in the east | daemon targaryen

Description: Daemon Targaryen didn't die during the war - though there were many nights that he wished he did. A prequel and sequel of the sun rises in the west, in which Daemon tries to navigate his relationship with his only son and the new life he is bestowed.

Pairing: daemon targaryen/dayne!reader (you haunt the narrative)

Rating: General Audience (grief processing, daemon being a grey character.)

Author's Note: Daenerys-Drogo inspired.

"When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east. When mountains blow in the wind like leaves. Then you shall return to me."

There was no milk of poppy that could subside the ache in his heart. He marched to the Stepstones with nothing to lose, he came home losing everything. "I offer my condolences, brother." Viserys places a hand on Daemon's shoulder.

Daemon watches his son from afar.

Maekar looked exactly like him, the same aquiline nose, the same purple eyes. He almost wishes that there were other children, perhaps a daughter with the same eyes as yours. He stares off to the vast horizon, the gardens in his periphery.

"When Aemma died, I was a shell of myself. Unable to rule or eat." Viserys conversed. There were no scrolls that explained how to cope the death of a wife that one loved very much.

"- and you found comfort with the Lady Alicent." Daemon interrupted, bitterness in his tone. "If you are suggesting that I find the same comforts in another one's arms. I decline." he gave his brother a tight-lipped smile.

He's spent his entire life looking for Viserys' love. He's long understood that he'll never find it, and that he'll never be his brother's first choice. Daemon waves at his son. Maekar runs towards him.

"We'll be going, your grace." he lifted his son off the ground. Disappearing from the Red-Keep. Gods know when he'll return.

He met another woman after you. After the harsh pushing of his brother to take another wife, he decided to settle with Lady Laena. She was the same as you - the same fire flowed through her veins. She wanted to be a warrior and was skilled with a dagger. She knew her place. She knew how to obey, and behind those purple eyes of hers - he finds a glimpse of you.

Maekar, who was five, placed a tender hand on Lady Laena's belly. "It will a brother." he surmised with childish curiosity. Daemon watched coldly as his second wife took kindly to his son. He wanted to rip Maekar away from Lady Laena - wanted to tell him that the woman wasn't his mother - wanted to tell him to never forget you.

Alas, he couldn't.

He couldn't bring himself to even mention your name.

"How can you be so sure, my prince?" Daemon sat beside them on the bed, placing a kiss on Maekar's forehead. "I-I wish it is." the boy played with the edges of the blanket. "- then I'll have someone to play with - like muña promised." he stuttered.

Daemon's heart sinked to his chest.

Laena smiled.

"You'll have a lot of siblings, I promise." now it was Laena's turn to place a kiss on Maekar's forehead. Daemon clenched his fists.

It was his fault. He did not speak of you - how else was Maekar supposed to know? He'll have to make things right.

"Where are we going, kepa?" Maekar inquired as his father led him to the heart of the Red Keep. "Laena is not your muña. You know that, right?" the man opened the conversation. His son replies with a hum.

Maekar wobbles in an attempt to catch up with his father. His eyes twinkling with adoration and love. "Uhuh my real muña died in the war." the son replied, and they both halted in front of a chamber. It was Daemon's old chamber.

A layer of dust gathered on the doorknob. He could not find himself to visit. "But you cannot remember muña. You were a babe when she died." he twisted the doorknob - opening the door wide. Maekar's eyes travelled along the walls, soaking in the interior of the room.

He remembers this room!

The bed was unmade - the hairbrush still had a strand of your hair. Is a piece of hair still a part of your head even when it has fallen on the floor? Are ghosts still a part of your family even when they're dead?

He reaches for his father's hand.

"Please tell me!" he beamed, and Daemon sat on the bed. Dust jumping around at the sudden shift of weight. Maekar coughs.

The older man points at the portrait on the wall. "I met your mother when I was much younger. She was seven and ten, a Dornishwoman. She made it very clear that she didn't want to lose her liberties by being married to me." he chuckled, the pain in his chest lifted by memories of you. "Liberties?" Maekar tilted his head.

"Freedom. She didn't want to lose herself. She wanted to remain a warrior, to train in the fields regardless of the court's opinion. The court had a lot to say, my son, but she did not care. She never cared about anything beyond us three." the smile never left his face.

"Remember what I told you about being a prince." he stared deep into Maekar's eyes and the little boy nodded. "When forced to choose between the kingdom and your family - always choose the kingdom, because your duty is to the people before yourself." the little boy recited, stuttering and messing up the end sentence.

"Your mother was as valiant as any prince. She wanted to choose you, my son - but we weren't the only ones suffering. Sons were marching off to war, and they never returned. She couldn't help but think about you - about our safety. The War in the Stepstones threatened the very peace of our Kingdom, and she protected that." the smile left his mouth, back to the bitter reality.

"Promise me that you'll always love your mother. Do not find fault in what she could not do." Daemon wrapped Maekar in his arms, placing him in a tender embrace.

"I always love her, kepa." he promised.

Maekar was ten and six when Daemon married Princess Rhaenyra. By then, Laena was long dead - cold to the touch as you.

Princess Rhaenyra was different, mayhaps the only woman after you that Daemon truly loved. She was filled with fire and he worshipped her - they were built in the same fire. He was devoted to her, the same way that he felt devoted to Viserys.

It was a different type of love - devotion, but not love itself.

"Hold him, husband." Rhaenyra smiled, sweat gathering at her forehead. Daemon smiled in return, reaching for Aegon.

His second son, the namesake of his ruined brother. "- he looks like you." she added, licking her lips.

"I was scared, I thought that I'll lose you both." he confessed. Rhaenyra reached for his face. "You'll never lose me." she promised, just before their lips could be bridged together - a handmaiden opens the door.

"My prince, my princess. Lady Melara has given birth to a son." the handmaiden announced. Rhaenyra's face sunk to the floor.

Maekar has stolen her thunder, again.

Daemon was surprised to see Baela and Rhaena patiently waiting outside Lady Melara's door. "Baela, Rhaena, don't you have lessons." he greeted the both of them with a hug. "I don't suppose that you'll have us attending boring lessons when our nephew has recently welcomed the world." Baela rolled her eyes.

"Are they letting visitors in?" he inquired and the sisters shrugged in unison. "Maekar promised to bring the babe out for all to see." Rhaena informed and Daemon shook his head.

On cue, Maekar opens the door with a screaming bundle of warmth in his arms. "The babe must stay inside the chambers." Daemon placed a foot inside of the door, blocking his son from exiting. "- there are diseases outside, and the babe must keep his strength." he asserted, Maekar returns to the chambers with a defeated sigh.

He looks at his younger sisters.

"You are free to enter the room, loves." Maekar smiled, all three of his visitors clamored to be the first to enter.

Maekar hands the babe to his father, the same adoration and love in his eyes as all those years ago. "I decided to name him Rhaegar. After princess Rhaenyra." his son announced. "My brother was born today too, wasn't he." he asked and Daemon nods.

Finally, a child that looked like you.

Rhaegar had the usual blonde hair and purple eyes, but the shape of his eyes, his nose, his face - it was you.

"I settled them both down, and left after they had fallen asleep." Daemon mumbled unconsciously. "Congratulations, my son."

Rhaenyra leaned on the doorframe, watching as her husband played with the children. It seems like the gods enjoyed playing cruel games. Rhaegar was born the same day as Aegon. Maekar's Viserys was born on the same day as her Viserys.

"We'll need to find a safer place for them. Once the Hightowers have landed their first blow, Dragonstone won't be safe." Daemon informed, standing up and walking towards her.

"You'll protect us, right?" she asked, and he nods.

He wraps his arms around her. He always said that Rhaenyra needed to marry a great man in order to keep the realm safe. He played that role very well, and she believed him. She melts in his embrace, feeling safe caged in between his arms.

"Kingslanding will be ours." he promised.

Before Daemon could land his first attack on the Hightowers, news of Maekar's sickness reached his ears. "It is the same fever that took your aunt, Daenerys." the Maester informed - and suddenly the room became very small, and his chest tightening with every second.

"He needs vigilant observation, there are cures for this sickness, but all of them are in Kingslanding. They were gathered by King Jaehaerys - and have remained in the castle since." the Maester added, for a second Daemon considered surrendering to the Greens.

If it was the only thing that could guarantee Maekar's safety.

"- but he can fight the sickness on his own." Daemon placed a finger to his lips, in deep thought. "If his dragon was here, my prince. But Gaelithox is kept in the Dragonpit - also in Kingslanding." the Maester's eyebrow merged into each other.

Whatever Maekar's fate now remained in his own hands.

"You are telling me that there is nothing that we can do?" Daemon attempted to keep his anger at bay. "I'm sorry, my prince." the man bowed. "- we could give him milk of poppy to ease the pain." the Maester suggested.

Milk of poppy. It brought him dark memories.

"Kepa, in the afterlife - do you think that I'd recognize her?" Maekar opened his mouth, feeling the cold compress on his forehead. It's been decades since he last saw his mother. He couldn't remember her anymore, not the sound of her voice, her face or her scent. She was a mere memory, a portrait of the woman that loved them.

"What do you mean?" Daemon asked, refusing to entertain the idea of his son's death. "When I die and I see her. Will I recognize her?" Maekar repeated his question.

Daemon answers with his silence.

Opposite to the news that reached Kingslanding. His first wife did not die immediately after the war. She had a slow death - fighting an infection caused by a wound. He sees flashes of the past, he remembers taking care of you - easing your fever.

Perhaps, placing the same cold compress on your forehead.

He promises that this time will be different. He wouldn't lose Maekar in the same way that he lost you. "Kepa, I asked you a question." his son will not let the topic rest. "It's alright if you do not wish to answer." Maekar adds, his voice suddenly deeper than all the years before. Daemon is bitterly reminded that his son is no longer a child.

"You'll recognize her. I'm sure of it - when you see her. Wrap her in a warm embrace and tell her that you love her." Daemon breaths.

How long has it been since he last saw you? A lady who was ten and nine. Now he was thrice your age - already having lived multiple lives, and you were still there - the ten and nine year old lady who had a life in front of her. Taken by the sea.

"I've not been a good father or a good husband." Daemon admitted.

"- I've not been good to your Mama Laena or Rhaenyra. I often wonder if they hate me, because I hold onto the dead." he added, remembering the fight he had a few hours ago with Rhaenyra. 'How is it that you love her more? She is a dead girl, I am here. I am alive.'

"They do not blame you, I think. It is your right to mourn." Maekar comforted, despite the piercing headache that threatened to split his skull open. Maekar closes his eyes.

"Mother used to sing me a song. I remember." he stated, and Daemon knew exactly what he was hinting at.

The House of the Dragon crumbled the same day that Maekar Targaryen took his last breath. Prince Daemon took to other places, choosing to go on a conquest with the dragonseed, Nettles. He learnt many things with the child. Questioned even his own beliefs.

If people of no Targaryen bearings could claim a dragon. Was he wrong his entire life? Were Targaryens not closer to the gods? Taken by grief and jealousy, Queen Rhaenyra ordered the head of Nettles and thus began Daemon's first defiance.

Daemon still had love for Rhaenyra.

Even in the middle of a cold war, he still fought for her claim. He defeated Prince Aemond in the Battle Above God's Eye, though the battle ended in both of their deaths. Princess Rhaenyra and her last son were burned by Aegon II.

All that remained were Rhaegar and Viserys. Children of the dance. And so, with the remaining forces of House Velaryon and House Tyrell. Prince Rhaegar was proclaimed King of the Iron Throne.

No dragon ever hatched from the mighty house of the Targaryen ever again.

[kaerinio]

smth smth . . . dany is very specifically the moon with all the dreams and wishes and watchfulness and wonder and brightness, but she is also the sun at dawn . . . its rays cracking over the land in shades of pinks, purples, oranges, and yellows. she is the delicious warmth of the dawn that shines upon your body, filling you with the hope of a new day and a path forward, ever-lighting your way. she is that moment when the moon and the sun kiss in the sky.

[dan-the-womans-blog]

Title: Hearts of Fire

Daenerys Targeryen x reader X khal drogo(slightly)

---

The air was thick with the scent of blood and incense as the Dothraki gathered in the sacred tent, their voices rising in a cacophony of anticipation. At the center of it all stood Daenerys Targaryen, silver hair cascading over her shoulders, her violet eyes set with steely determination. Beside her, you stood just as resolute, your fingers intertwined with hers as you both faced the daunting task ahead. This was a ritual meant to prove strength, resilience, and the power of life growing within Daenerys. But the Khaleesi was not alone, for you had bound your fate to hers long before the Dothraki had ever known either of your names.

When Khal Drogo had chosen Daenerys as his Khaleesi, you had been a part of the bargain, an unconventional condition that neither he nor his people had expected. The blood of the dragon burned hot in both of your veins, and your love for each other was as fierce as the flames that had birthed you. Drogo had seen the fire in your eyes, the unwavering loyalty you held for Daenerys, and had accepted the challenge of marrying not just a dragon, but two.

Now, the Dosh Khaleen—the ancient crones who led the ceremony—looked on with a mix of curiosity and skepticism. No other Khaleesi had ever brought her heart-bound to this ritual. But this was not just any Khaleesi, and you were not just any woman.

As the crones brought forth the raw, bleeding heart of the stallion, the murmurs of the Dothraki quieted. The heart was massive, still warm, and the scent of fresh blood filled your nostrils. It was a symbol of the life growing within Daenerys, the life of the stallion who would mount the world. But for you, it was also a symbol of the bond you shared with her, the unbreakable connection that had brought you both to this moment.

Daenerys took a deep breath, her grip on your hand tightening as she stepped forward. You could feel her fear, her determination, and you gave her a reassuring squeeze in return.

"We do this together," you whispered, your voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in your stomach.

She nodded, her eyes never leaving yours. "Together," she repeated, her voice a vow as strong as any oath.

The Dosh Khaleen began their chant, an ancient and haunting melody that echoed through the tent. Daenerys raised the heart to her lips, taking the first bite with a grimace that she quickly hid. The taste was foul, the texture tough and chewy, but she forced herself to chew and swallow, her eyes flicking to you for strength. You stepped closer, your free hand brushing a strand of her hair away from her face as she continued to eat, each bite a struggle.

When the time came for you to join her, you did so without hesitation. The Dothraki watched with bated breath as you bit into the heart, the taste just as revolting as you had imagined. But you didn't falter. The blood of the dragon did not yield. You would not falter.

The ritual was gruesome, the task daunting, but together, you and Daenerys persevered. Bite after bite, the heart began to disappear, the blood staining both your lips and hers, a symbol of the shared strength and love that had brought you to this point.

As the heart was finally consumed, a hush fell over the tent. Daenerys swayed on her feet, but you were there to steady her, your arms wrapping around her waist as she leaned into you, exhausted but victorious. The Dothraki began to chant her name, their voices rising in a roar of approval. The stallion who mounts the world had been proven, and the Khaleesi had shown her strength. But as you held her close, you knew that the real victory was not just hers, but yours as well.

Khal Drogo stepped forward, his dark eyes locking onto yours and Daenerys's. There was a fierce pride in his gaze, a recognition of the bond you both shared. He placed a hand on Daenerys's shoulder, then on yours, a silent acknowledgment of the strength you both possessed.

"You are both my Khaleesi," he declared in his deep, resonant voice, the words carrying a weight that the Dothraki understood. It was unprecedented, a union of three, bound not just by tradition but by love, respect, and fire.

As the ceremony came to an end, the Dothraki began to disperse, their excitement turning to celebration. You and Daenerys remained in the tent, the tension of the ritual finally giving way to relief. She turned to you, her violet eyes softening as she reached up to cup your face, her thumb brushing away a smear of blood on your cheek.

"You were incredible," she whispered, her voice full of emotion. "I couldn't have done this without you."

You smiled, leaning into her touch, your heart swelling with love. "Neither could I, my love."

The two of you stood there for a moment, lost in each other, the world outside forgotten. In that instant, it didn't matter that you were in a foreign land, surrounded by people who still didn't fully understand your bond. All that mattered was that you had each other, that you were stronger together than apart.

As the sounds of celebration grew louder outside, you and Daenerys shared a kiss, the taste of blood still lingering on your lips, a reminder of the ritual you had just endured. It was a kiss filled with promise, with the fire of dragons, and with the knowledge that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them side by side.

Together, you would conquer, you would rule, and you would love, bound by fire and blood, forever.

Request anytime 😊

[daenerystargaryen06]

"How beautiful, the queen tried to tell herself, but inside her was some foolish little girl who could not help but look about for Daario. If he loved you, he would come and carry you off at swordpoint, as Rhaegar carried off his northern girl, the girl in her insisted, but the queen knew that was folly..." -A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys VII

"I would need to steal her if I wanted her love, but she might give me children. I might someday hold a son of my own blood in my arms. A son was something Jon Snow had never dared dream of, since he decided to live his life on the Wall. I could name him Robb." -A Storm of Swords -Jon XII

Daenerys wanting Daario to carry her off at sword point, and Jon thinking of stealing Val for her love. Two parallels of one girl wanting to be stolen, and one boy wanting to steal someone. Both for love.

"None of them had ever seen a direwolf before, he realized, and Ghost was twice as large as the common wolves that prowled their southron greenwoods. As he walked toward the armory, Jon chanced to look up and saw Val standing in her tower window. I'm sorry, he thought. I'm not the man to steal you out of there." -A Storm of Swords - Jon XII

"Even if her captain was mad enough to attempt it, the Brazen Beasts would cut him down before he got within a hundred yards of her." -A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys VII

Jon is sorry he can't steal away Val, and Daenerys reflects on the fact that even if Daario did attempt to carry her off at sword point, he'd be cut down.

Both Jon and Daenerys have a sense of romanticism in their POV's. Both are hopeless romantics (perhaps Daenerys more so than Jon in a sense). Both want love, despite denying it deep down. Jon because he's a man of the Night's Watch and a bastard. Daenerys because she is a Queen over her people and accepts duty over giving in to "girlish" thoughts.

Both had found love within confinement. Jon having fallen for Ygritte while pretending to be on the Freefolk's side. Daenerys having found a twisted love in Drogo after being sold to him as a bridal slave. Both were coerced into sexual relations with Ygritte and Drogo. Both had to watch Ygritte and Drogo die (and Dany killed Drogo out of mercy).

"He found Ygritte sprawled across a patch of old snow beneath the Lord Commander's Tower, with an arrow between her breasts. The ice crystals had settled over her face, and in the moonlight it looked as though she wore a glittering silver mask [...] "Oh." Ygritte cupped his cheek with her hand. "You know nothing, Jon Snow," she sighed, dying. -A Storm of Swords - Jon VII

"And when the bleak dawn broke over an empty horizon, Dany knew that he was truly lost to her. “When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east,” she said sadly. “When the seas go dry and mountains blow in the wind like leaves. When my womb quickens again, and I bear a living child. Then you will return, my sun-and-stars, and not before.” Never, the darkness cried, never never never. Inside the tent Dany found a cushion, soft silk stuffed with feathers. She clutched it to her breasts as she walked back out to Drogo, to her sun-and-stars. If I look back I am lost. It hurt even to walk, and she wanted to sleep, to sleep and not to dream. She knelt, kissed Drogo on the lips, and pressed the cushion down across his face." -A Game of Thrones - Daenerys IX

Both Jon and Daenerys have also found interest again after the deaths of Ygritte and Drogo. Jon wants Val, and Daenerys sleeps with Daario and may perhaps love him, but doubts over her relations with Daario. Both focus on their duties over giving in to what they really want. Daenerys even marries again for peace over giving in to what she really wants.

Both Jon and Daenerys think of having children, but push away the ideal. Jon due to being a member of the Night's Watch and a bastard. Daenerys due to thinking she is barren/cursed by Mirri Maz Duur and can never again have a child born from her.

Jon reflects that if he ever had a son, he'd name him Robb after his brother. Daenerys when pregnant with Drogo's child names her son Rhaego after her brother.

Jon is the secret son of Rhaegar and Lyanna. Lyanna is associated with blue winter roses:

"He was walking through the crypts beneath Winterfell, as he had walked a thousand times before. The Kings of Winter watched him pass with eyes of ice, and the direwolves at their feet turned their great stone heads and snarled. Last of all, he came to the tomb where his father slept, with Brandon and Lyanna beside him. "Promise me, Ned," Lyanna's statue whispered. She wore a garland of pale blue roses, and her eyes wept blood." -A Game of Thrones - Eddard XIII

"Robert had been jesting with Jon and old Lord Hunter as the prince circled the field after unhorsing Ser Barristan in the final tilt to claim the champion's crown. Ned remembered the moment when all the smiles died, when Prince Rhaegar Targaryen urged his horse past his own wife, the Dornish princess Elia Martell, to lay the queen of beauty's laurel in Lyanna's lap. He could see it still: a crown of winter roses, blue as frost." -A Game of Thrones - Eddard XV

When Daenerys has visions in the House of the Undying, she sees the Wall:

"A blue flower grew from a chink in a wall of ice, and filled the air with sweetness. . . . mother of dragons, bride of fire . . ." -A Clash of Kings - Daenerys IV

Jon is the 'blue flower' she sees growing from the wall of ice, filling the air with 'sweetness'. Jon is Lyanna's son. Both carry blue flower representation.

Jon also wants to know everything there is about his mother; who she was, if she loved him, what sort of person she was. Just alike to how Daenerys wants to learn and know everything she can about Rhaegar, as she also idolizes him in a sense. Both have thoughts about these people. Jon constantly thinks about his mother (Lyanna even if he does not know yet who she is); Daenerys often thinks of Rhaegar (despite never knowing him). Both think of these people despite them already being gone from the world, and both only wish they could have known who they truly were as people and can only guess how Lyanna and Rhaegar would've thought or acted.

Jon thinks of having dragons at the Wall:

"We should have twenty trebuchets, not two, and they should be mounted on sledges and turntables so we could move them. It was a futile thought. He might as well wish for another thousand men, and maybe a dragon or three." -A Storm of Swords - Jon VIII

When Jon dies, Daenerys hears a wolf howling in the distance:

"Off in the distance, a wolf howled. The sound made her feel sad and lonely, but no less hungry. As the moon rose above the grasslands, Dany slipped at last into a restless sleep." -A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys X

Both have an association/thought relating to one another's animal sigil/companion. Jon thinks of wishing for three dragons (Daenerys' house sigil and her dragon children). Daenerys hears a wolf howling when Jon dies, making her feel sad and lonely (Jon's house sigil through Lyanna/Ned and his direwolf Ghost).

Both Jon and Daenerys dream of home. Daenerys with the house with the red door and the lemon tree. Jon with Winterfell.

Both are estranged from their families (Jon being at the Wall. Daenerys being in Essos and the last of her family having died).

Both have lost their brothers in different means. Both have had their mothers die from childbirth and never got to meet them. Both of their fathers (Rhaegar and Aerys) died during the Rebellion.

Both had arcs of leadership and rule, and struggle with their decisions and making hard choices. Jon winds up killed due to his choices at the end of ADWD, and Daenerys becomes stranded in the Dothraki Sea due to her choice of saving Drogon (and her people from Drogon) from the fighting pit and escaping on dragonback.

While Daenerys thinks of taking the IT as a duty due to being the last of her family and Viserys' last living heir, Jon admits to wanting to become Lord of Winterfell but turning the opportunity away.