#stallion who mounts the world

[fish-in-the-aquarium]

hehe

team work

[jon-sedai]

I feel so dumb for never having realized this before but I was thinking about the bookend in AGoT between the Others, the dragons, and two heroes: Waymar Royce and Daenerys Targaryen.

While squaring off against the Others, Waymar Royce asks for a dance.

Ser Waymar met him bravely. “Dance with me then.” He lifted his sword high over his head, defiant. His hands trembled from the weight of it, or perhaps from the cold. Yet in that moment, Will thought, he was a boy no longer, but a man of the Night’s Watch.

It’s notable that this scene is eerily silent save for the bits of dialogue. And when Waymar’s dance finally begins, there’s a notable lack of music.

The pale sword came shivering through the air. Ser Waymar met it with steel. When the blades met, there was no ring of metal on metal; only a high, thin sound at the edge of hearing, like an animal screaming in pain. Royce checked a second blow, and a third, then fell back a step. Another flurry of blows, and he fell back again.

I’ve always asserted that Ser Waymar is a failed last hero if we judge his success based off Old Nan’s blueprint.

So as cold and death filled the earth, the last hero determined to seek out the children, in the hopes that their ancient magics could win back what the armies of men had lost. He set out into the dead lands with a sword, a horse, a dog, and a dozen companions. For years he searched, until he despaired of ever finding the children of the forest in their secret cities. One by one his friends died, and his horse, and finally even his dog, and his sword froze so hard the blade snapped when he tried to use it. And the Others smelled the hot blood in him, and came silent on his trail, stalking him with packs of pale white spiders big as hounds—”

Both Ser Waymar and the last hero lost their companions and both had their swords shatter to the cold. Yet Waymar failed to complete one important step: find the children of the forest. The children are also known as “the singers”. So it’s notable that Ser Waymar attempts to dance without any music(ians) to accompany him. And because he does so, his dance ends in failure.

But then we have Daenerys Targaryen in the Dothraki Sea.

As Daenerys Targaryen rose to her feet, her black hissed, pale smoke venting from its mouth and nostrils. The other two pulled away from her breasts and added their voices to the call, translucent wings unfolding and stirring the air, and for the first time in hundreds of years, the night came alive with the music of dragons.

Dany performs a miracle in bringing dragons to life, the first person to do so in centuries. And these dragons sing a song that proclaims her, an exiled young princess and a widow, Azor Ahai reborn - the champion of fire, and warrior of light.

This bookend between the first and last chapters is so poignant. It’s not just that fire has returned to combat Ice. It’s that Dany brought back the music necessary to complete this dance. We start the book with a failed hero and end it with the rise of a true one; also interesting that Waymar’s end comes while he’s down on his knees whereas Dany rises to her feet reborn.

This makes Dany’s identity as the promised prince(ss) all the more impressive.

“He has a song,” the man replied. “He is the prince that was promised, and his is the song of ice and fire.” He looked up when he said it and his eyes met Dany’s, and it seemed as if he saw her standing there beyond the door.

Waymar failed because he didn’t have a song to accompany him. Yet Dany has a song to dance to. A song of fire.

I think this raises some interesting questions regarding the nature of this great conflict. There not only has to be a song to dance to, but it seems that there is a key distinction between the singer and the dancer. Rhaegar Targaryen failed to fulfill the prophecy because he was the singer and not the dancer. His role was to provide the hero’s musical accompaniment. In a way, it’s almost like he as the bard is the herald. And the herald is rarely, if ever, the main character. So notice how Rhaegar heralds the hero, the king, while looking at Dany.

But! - there’s different kinds of songs. Dany has one, made by her dragons. But it’s not be the only one. The children of the forest are heavily associated with the last hero and while Waymar Royce is dead, there lives another: Bran Stark.

Bran found the children, the singers, and is a step closer to completing the last hero’s journey.

Now Bran is an interesting case.

“Go,” Bran whispered to his own horse. He touched her neck lightly, and the small chestnut filly started forward. Bran had named her Dancer. She was two years old, and Joseth said she was smarter than any horse had a right to be.

He has a dancing horse but at some point has to leave her behind. So does that mean that he has to learn to do the dancing in his own way?

And I find it interesting that Bran has a female dancer horse because this creates a neat parallel with Dany, a dancer who may also be the stallion that mounts the world; if it’s not her, then it has to be her mount, Drogon. This is important if we consider that the last hero, Azor Ahai/the promised prince, the Stallion That Mounts the World, etc. are all different yet complimentary manifestations of one heroic legend.

But the issue of songs doesn’t end there because there still exists one Jon Snow, another version of the last hero and promised prince. Jon isn’t a bard but he has been positioned as being adjacent to dancers. I won’t harp on about Jon’s parallels with Waymar Royce because they’ve been done to death. But it seems that Jon, like Bran and Dany, will succeed where Ser Waymar failed.

Because not only does Jon have music to herald him:

That night he dreamt of wildlings howling from the woods, advancing to the moan of warhorns and the roll of drums. Boom DOOM boom DOOM boom DOOM came the sound, a thousand hearts with a single beat.

But he is also positioned as a last man standing among many dead heroes:

“Stand fast,” Jon Snow called. “Throw them back.” He stood atop the Wall, alone. “Flame,” he cried, “feed them flame,” but there was no one to pay heed. They are all gone. They have abandoned me.

And he has a sword that will not shatter against the cold:

“Snow,” an eagle cried, as foemen scuttled up the ice like spiders. Jon was armored in black ice, but his blade burned red in his fist.

It’s noteworthy that Jon is the son of a singer, Rhaegar Targaryen. The very singer who sang the song of ice and fire; and notice how Jon is clad in both. Plus he has been mentored by another, Mance Rayder, whom he eventually succeeds.

At a quick glance, it’s very interesting to me that Jon is constantly listening to songs beyond the Wall. There’s the song of the blue winter rose (which in a way heralds his own birth), the song of Joramun and the Horn of Winter, and many others.

It’s also noteworthy just how often giants are mentioned as the subject of songs in Jon’s POV chapters. I bring this up because of the Last of the Giants:

Ooooooh, I am the last of the giants, my people are gone from the earth. The last of the great mountain giants, who ruled all the world at my birth.

I think there is a parallel here between the dragons, the giants, and the children of the forest. These are all dying species, yet they linger on for the song of ice and fire still needs to be brought to completion.

And let’s consider where our heroes fit in all this. Dany commands the dragons, Bran learns from the children, while Jon begins to befriend the giants. All these creatures make musical accompaniments for our heroes to dance to.

Lastly, I’m inclined to think of the Stark girls though I’m not entirely sure where they would fit in all of this. Arya, at some point, trains to be a dancer:

On the way back to his chambers, he came upon his daughter Arya on the winding steps of the Tower of the Hand, windmilling her arms as she struggled to balance on one leg. The rough stone had scuffed her bare feet. Ned stopped and looked at her. “Arya, what are you doing?” “Syrio says a water dancer can stand on one toe for hours.” Her hands flailed at the air to steady herself. Ned had to smile. “Which toe?” he teased. “Any toe,” Arya said, exasperated with the question. She hopped from her right leg to her left, swaying dangerously before she regained her balance. “Must you do your standing here?” he asked. “It’s a long hard fall down these steps.” “Syrio says a water dancer never falls.” She lowered her leg to stand on two feet. “Father, will Bran come and live with us now?”

Now Arya is no singer, but her wolf is.

In another place, his little sister lifted her head to sing to the moon, and a hundred small grey cousins broke off their hunt to sing with her.

On the other hand, Sansa is no dancer but she is known for her ability to sing. And boy does she sing beautifully.

Her throat was dry and tight with fear, and every song she had ever known had fled from her mind. Please don't kill me, she wanted to scream, please don't. She could feel him twisting the point, pushing it into her throat, and she almost closed her eyes again, but then she remembered. It was not the song of Florian and Jonquil, but it was a song. Her voice sounded small and thin and tremulous in her ears. Gentle Mother, font of mercy, Save our sons from war, we pray,

In fact, a lot of Sansa’s songs are prayers for those who dance to the music of swords. Her songs are soothing, calming. And see this during Stannis’ assault on Kings Landing when she is able to calm Sandor and the noble women through the power of song. Hers is not a song to dance to, it’s a different kind though I’m not entirely sure what it entails. I do want to say, though, that Sansa is often paralleled with creates that take flight; various birds and bats. So she is a singer, much like the dragons.

I may have neglected other characters here, but I just thought it was intriguing that our main heroes (Jon, Bran, Dany, maybe Arya) are all positioned as dancers for the song of ice and fire.

[marwyn]

Hi, sorry if you have talked about it before, but I haven’t been able to find it anywhere on your blog

Why did Drogo change his behavior with Dany? Specifically, why did he treat her so sweetly on their wedding night, and then raped her every subsequent night?

I know that it can be argued their wedding night was also rape, but that’s not really my point. He asks permission and looks her in the eye, wants her to enjoy their coupling. All of the other nights he takes her from behind and hurts her.

Somewhere on a random Reddit comment, someone said it’s because Drogo is treating Dany like a horse. An untried horse that he must break in gently. After that, he has successfully tamed her and can mount her like any other horse

I think that makes A LOT OF SENSE but it frustrates me that it’s not explicit in the book at all. That completely went over most readers’ heads

This change in his behavior has always puzzled me too and I’m inclined to agree that the Reddit user is onto something (not a sentiment I feel often LOL). Obviously there are various degrees of equivalence drawn between Dany and her dragons, particularly Drogon (“He is fire made flesh […] and so am I” (ADWD, Daenerys IX)) and it follows that one could extend this to her other mount, i.e. her horse, as well; a dragon as a metonym for House Targaryen, a horse as a metonym for the Dothraki, and she now belongs to both. Drogo even chose the horse to match her hair color, and that’s not the extent of their similarities!

She was a young filly, spirited and splendid. Dany knew just enough about horses to know that this was no ordinary animal. There was something about her that took the breath away. She was grey as the winter sea, with a mane like silver smoke.

Hesitantly she reached out and stroked the horse’s neck, ran her fingers through the silver of her mane. Khal Drogo said something in Dothraki and Magister Illyrio translated. “Silver for the silver of your hair, the khal says.”

(AGOT, Daenerys II)

“Are you sure that Khal Drogo likes his women this young?”

“She has had her blood. She is old enough for the khal,” Illyrio told him, not for the first time. “Look at her. That silver-gold hair, those purple eyes … she is the blood of old Valyria, no doubt, no doubt … and highborn, daughter of the old king, sister to the new, she cannot fail to entrance our Drogo.”

(AGOT, Daenerys I)

Additionally, GRRM was clearly inspired by the titular character of The Last Unicorn in creating Dany and there’s a certain amount of slippage between dragons and unicorns in these books, and she and Drogon also take after Alexander the Great and his horse Bucephalus

[captn-lovelace]

sometimes i forget not everyone knows the theory that lightbringer is and always has been a dragon, and that the azor ahai story is the story of someone bringing about dragons to bring balance to fire/ice. and thus dany is azor ahai reborn and drogon is lightbringer

-there’s an asshai story about the birth of the first dragons that says the moon was a dragon’s egg. the moon touched the sun and the moon cracked open to release the dragons

-the azor ahai story goes that he tries 3 time to forge lightbringer, the third requiring the willing sacrifice of his wife ended up cracking the moon and forging the flaming sword

-dany tries 3 times to hatch her dragon eggs, the 3rd requiring her willing sacrifice (walking into the flames)

-dany and drogo are frequently referred to as the moon and the sun, respectively, and dany (the moon) steps into the pyre with drogo (the sun) and the eggs crack and the dragons are released

-drogon’s egg hatches last, and the book says it sounded like the world cracked open, dragons return for the first time in living memory

so we’ve got the original azor ahai cracking the moon, the moon in established folklore has been viewed as a dragon’s egg, drogon’s egg cracks like the planet is breaking. hence, the asshai myth is another culture’s take on the azor ahai/dragon origin story. and dany hatching drogon IS dany forging lightbringer.

there’s a lot more but this is all i’ve got, thanks for coming to my ted talk

(oh and check out @ hallowed.harpy on tik tok i heard the bit about the sun/moon symbolism from her)

[hallowed-harpy]

Asoiaf-themed lockets by SeaOfCuriosities.

Themes pictured include (left to right, top to bottom):

- The Flayed Man

- Coldhands

- Vhagar

- Daemon Blackfyre

- House Tyrell

- “Three treasons you will know…”

- Daenerys: The Stallion Who Mounts the World

- Ashara Dayne

- Sunfyre

- Sansa Stark + Lady

Custom asoiaf-themed lockets will restock on Sunday, January 19th, at 10am PST.

[imaginarianisms]

new title 4 d.any: daenerys thee stallion

[sheisbeautyweareworldass]

fantasy series has three prophecies from three different cultures referring to the same hero. only one character is connected to the three. you would imagine her identity as the promised hero was an unanimity amongst the fandom… unfortunately said character happens to also be a woman so obviously the hero isn’t her :(

[r-memberme]

the mare | k.m

⎯⎯ “I do everything, love,” he said, tone full of mock humility. “Some of us are blessed.”

warnings: none just fluff and Klaus being a smartass

where Klaus is most himself, and you are slowly beginning to understand why

You hadn’t expected horses.

You hadn’t expected the smell of warm hay and rain-slick wood, or the way the early afternoon sun painted golden strokes across the stable floor. You hadn’t expected Klaus to look so at home—coat half-buttoned, curls tousled by the wind, hand resting with effortless elegance on the bridle of a horse that looked like it belonged in some wild dream of the Scottish highlands.

“I thought this trip was about relaxing,” you said slowly, eyeing the creature that stood nearly as tall as Klaus himself.

He didn’t answer right away. He was too busy pressing his forehead to the horse’s, murmuring something low and tender in a language you didn’t recognize.

“She likes you,” he said eventually, glancing up at you with a crooked smile. “You’ll ride her.”

You blinked. “Ride?”

Klaus looked at you fully then, and whatever amusement sparkled in his gaze was softened by something deeper—older.

“Tell me you’ve ridden before,” he said, only half-teasing.

You took a cautious step closer, your gaze fixed on the mare’s intelligent eyes and the faint twitch of her ears. “Not unless you count those little mechanical ponies outside supermarkets.”

Klaus laughed. Not a sharp bark of amusement, but a real laugh—soft and surprised and fond.

“Then it’s settled,” he said. “I’m teaching you.”

You crossed your arms. “Why do I feel like this is a trap?”

“Because you don’t trust easily,” he said, coming to stand beside you. “But I do hope you trust me.”

You turned toward him—and found him closer than expected. His expression had shifted into something gentler, more intimate. Like he was watching not just the you of now, but the version of you he wanted to show the world to. The one who might, just might, understand the way his heart ticked like an old, elegant clock.

“I do,” you said, barely more than a whisper.

His smile was small. Private.

“Good,” he murmured. “Because I wouldn’t let anything harm you. Least of all a horse.”

༊*·˚

Her name was Evangeline.

A beautiful, willful dapple-gray with a long, moonlight-silver mane and dark eyes that regarded you with suspicious tolerance.

“She’s used to me,” Klaus explained, handing you a small apple slice to offer. “Which is to say, she doesn’t bite me. Often.”

You gave her the apple from your palm, flinching slightly as her velvety lips tickled your fingers. But she took it gently, and Klaus gave an approving hum behind you.

“She’s ancient,” he said suddenly. “In spirit, at least. As if she remembers things no animal should. I used to think I was projecting.”

You turned to glance at him. His gaze was distant.

“She reminds you of someone?” you asked.

He hesitated. “Everything reminds me of someone.”

And then, with a shake of his head, he smiled again. “Come. Foot here, hand there. That’s it. You’re a natural.”

You most certainly were not a natural. You were ungainly, anxious, and entirely too aware of Klaus’s hands at your waist as he helped lift you into the saddle.

“You’re enjoying this,” you muttered through gritted teeth.

“Immensely,” he admitted. “But not in the way you think.”

He looked up at you then, one hand still steadying your boot in the stirrup.

“I just love seeing you experience something for the first time,” he said softly. “It makes the world new again. Even for me.”

Your heart gave a strange little lurch.

༊*·˚

The ride itself was nothing short of magic.

Once Klaus was mounted on his own stallion—a shadow-black creature with a snorting, proud attitude that matched his owner—you followed his lead along a winding trail that opened into wide, rolling fields. The breeze played with the tall grass, with your hair, with the edges of Klaus’s coat as it flared behind him like he’d stepped out of a painting.

You had never felt so out of place, and yet so utterly held by the moment.

He rode just ahead of you, his posture relaxed, one hand resting loosely on the reins. He glanced over his shoulder often, checking on you, smiling when you didn’t fall off.

“I feel like I should be wearing a corset and reading poetry aloud,” you called.

“You’d look lovely in both,” he replied over his shoulder, grin sharp and boyish. “Though I’d prefer you read it to me, while I paint you.”

You scoffed. “Of course you paint.”

“I do everything, love,” he said, tone full of mock humility. “Some of us are blessed.”

And yet, there was no arrogance in the way he said it. Only playfulness. Pride tempered by charm. He wanted to impress you—not to win you, but simply to deserve you.

༊*·˚

You paused near a gentle stream, letting the horses drink.

You sat a little taller in the saddle now, your confidence blooming in the late afternoon light.

“I get it now,” you said, more to yourself than to him.

“Get what?”

“Why you love this. The stillness. The sky. The rhythm of it.”

Klaus was quiet for a long moment.

“I wasn’t always a monster,” he said quietly. “Once, I was just a boy who loved the sound of hooves on earth. Who could ride for hours and believe the world would forgive me, if I only rode far enough.”

You turned toward him, and something in your face must have broken his reverie, because he smiled again. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not about to spiral into tragedy.”

“You always spiral into tragedy,” you teased.

“Well,” he said with a sigh, “it is my nature.”

You both laughed.

༊*·˚

Later, back at the stables, you fed Evangeline one last slice of apple and leaned your head on Klaus’s shoulder. You were exhausted in that soft, glowing way that only came after long, beautiful days.

“You were amazing,” he said into your hair.

“I almost fell off twice.”

“You didn’t,” he said proudly, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Which makes you brilliant. And brave.”

You tilted your head back to look at him. “And you?”

“I,” he said, with a mock bow, “am insufferable.”

You laughed.

And then you kissed him—slowly, warmly, like a thank you. Like a promise.

He kissed you back like he’d waited a hundred years to have someone to share this with.

༊*·˚

the part of the day where silence means love, and hands mean poetry

The sun had dipped low, brushing the treetops with fire as you stumbled back into the cottage—half-laughing, half-limping, shoes in one hand, your other arm slung lazily around Klaus’s shoulders. He was insufferably pleased with himself, humming a tune as he helped you inside, boots scuffing across the wooden floor.

“You think this is funny,” you groaned, collapsing onto the plush cushions of the couch by the hearth.

“I think,” Klaus said, crouching to tend to the fire, “that watching you cling to Evangeline like a damsel from a pastoral novel was the single highlight of my century.”

You pelted a throw pillow at the back of his head.

He caught it one-handed without turning, of course. Show-off.

“You mock me now,” you muttered, curling sideways and stretching your legs with a grimace, “but when I wake up tomorrow and can’t walk…”

“I’ll carry you,” he said simply.

You blinked.

He looked over his shoulder, eyes aglow with the reflection of the fire he was coaxing to life, all soft amber and quiet pride. “I’m serious. I’ll carry you through the garden like a war hero’s bride.”

“Wow,” you said. “That’s not even the tiniest bit subtle.”

“Neither am I.”

He smiled—and it was the kind that disarmed nations, not just you.

༊*·˚

By the time the fire was crackling warmly, Klaus had tossed his coat onto the chair, rolled his sleeves to the elbow, and returned with two mugs of something that smelled like cinnamon and heat.

“Bribery?” you asked, taking the mug gratefully.

“Reparations,” he said with a wink, sitting beside you.

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It never was, with him. You’d learned that early. Klaus filled silences the way poets filled stanzas—with something unspoken, something that shimmered.

Your eyes fluttered closed. The warmth of the hearth seeped through your bones like honey through warm bread. You didn’t even realize your head had slipped onto his shoulder until his hand came up, curling into your hair with featherlight care.

“You’re quiet,” he murmured after a while.

You nodded. “Tired. Happy.”

He made a soft sound at the back of his throat—pleased, but maybe a little surprised.

You turned your head just slightly, enough to see the edge of his jaw, the pulse at his throat.

“You do things like this so easily,” you whispered. “Like it’s second nature. The horses. The old books. The fire. Even the way you speak sometimes. Like you're from a different era.”

He didn’t answer at first. His fingers threaded gently through your hair, slow and thoughtful.

“I am from a different era,” he said eventually. Quietly.

You laughed a little. “Sure. You and your thousand-year-old soul.”

His hand stilled.

You looked up at him.

Something flickered across his face—an unreadable, shadowy thing. And then, just like that, it was gone. Replaced by a slow smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I suppose I never learned how to be new,” he said softly.

You sat up then, turning toward him fully.

“No,” you said, “but you know how to be good.”

His eyes met yours. Steady. Still.

And then he reached for something behind him.

A book.

Leather-bound. Gold-etched. Worn at the corners like it had traveled the world and back again.

“You read poetry on horseback,” you said, smirking.

“I write poetry on horseback,” he corrected, flipping the book open. “But tonight, I’ll read you someone else’s.”

He cleared his throat, and in a voice richer than twilight and slower than candle wax, he began.

"She walks in beauty, like the night / Of cloudless climes and starry skies..."

You stared at him.

Klaus, sitting in the flickering firelight, curls falling boyishly into his eyes, lips forming verses like he’d birthed them himself, reading Byron as if he’d known him. Maybe he had. With Klaus, you never really knew.

Your head found his lap sometime during the second poem. His hand never stopped moving through your hair. His voice never faltered.

And when you drifted off—somewhere between a stanza and a sigh—you could swear you heard him whisper something that wasn’t from any book.

A vow, maybe.

A confession.

Something like forever.

thank you for the req anon! <3 hope you enjoy it🤍

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[book-daenerys]

"As swift as the wind he rides, and behind him his khalasar covers the earth, men without number, with arakhs shining in their hands like blades of razor grass. Fierce as a storm this prince will be. His enemies will tremble before him, and their wives will weep tears of blood and rend their flesh in grief. The bells in his hair will sing his coming, and the milk men in the stone tents will fear his name." The old woman trembled and looked at Dany almost as if she were afraid. "The prince is riding, and he shall be the stallion who mounts the world."

~

"The stallion is the khal of khals promised in ancient prophecy, child. He will unite the Dothraki into a single khalasar and ride to the ends of the earth, or so it was promised. All the people of the world will be his herd."

[pawsitivevibe]

There's a lot of discussion in the horse breeding world about how stallions should not just be healthy and conformationally correct, but also temperamentally sound. Stallions have a reputation for being dangerous, having tempers, being hard to handle and over-excited. But there's a good trend towards the idea that a good stallion should NOT be an asshole. They should be chill, easy to handle, and NOT dangerous. Bad behaviours equal gelding. Stallions who are dickheads are not worth breeding. We want them to pass on good minds. Cool heads. They shouldn't get a pass on stupid dangerous horse behaviours because they're stallions. A good stallion makes a great gelding.

I don't know if it just doesn't come up in my circles, but I don't see this same sentiment with dogs. But I HAVE seen intact male dogs getting a pass on shitty annoying behaviours because "they're boys." Like marking indoors, humping furniture or people or other dogs, acting stupid around bitches in heat, etc. "Yeah he marks indoors, but he's intact so it's to be expected." "I don't want to discourage him from mounting because he's a stud dog!" "If there's a BIS around he's just out of control hahaha." No your dog is just an asshole. Maybe boy dogs shouldn't get a pass on these stupid boy dog behaviours ... I went into owning an intact male "stud prospect" with the attitude that if he is an asshole boy I will neuter him. I won't tolerate acting like a hormonal idiot. But he doesn't. And I know it's largely solid temperament, because God knows I barely trained this animal lol. But yeah. Why are people fine with their stud dogs pissing indoors and mounting everything and losing their minds around BIS? Is that a sound temperament for a stud dog really?

[cappucosmic]

The Stallion Who Mounts The World

Inspired by Viktor Vasnetsov's painting The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.

[jon-sedai]

The way we discuss prophecy in fandom is genuinely fascinating. GRRM spends so much time showing how different characters have different interpretations of the same thing based on their own cultural contexts. He says that prophecy is tricky to navigate through multiple characters, showing that even the most careful practitioner can get almost everything wrong and fall victim to their own fallacies (see Mel). So tell me why the main takeaway for large parts of this fandom is “prophecy stupid, it doesn’t matter”. My brothers and sisters in R’hllor, GRRM didn’t invent multiple characters (three of whom are main POVs!!) who can see the future for this to be the conclusion. This is a FANTASY series. Please I’m begging, let us be serious 🥲

[carriexbradshaw]

daenerys targaryen is azor ahai, the prince who was promised and the stallion who mounts the world and I know this bc the books literally tell us

[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 😊

[rainhadaenerys]

Unpopular opinion, but I really do not see Dany as this "oh so tragic" and "oh so full of trauma" character. She has bad things happen to her like every other ASOIAF character, but she isn't really super traumatized or unable to deal with what happens in her life, and the tone of her story isn't really one of tragedy: on the contrary, her story is full of her overcoming hardships. It's full of triumphs. Even the low point she hits at the end of ADWD is just setting up her journey to finally crush the slavers and become the Stallion who Mounts the World. And then when she goes to Westeros, she will be one of the people to defeat the Others.

I find it a little bit annoying when I see people reading her character purely through the lens of "oh she suffered to much, she was raped by her husband, she was abused by her brother, she doesn't have a home, she is so tragic, etc" (I'm not saying people can't discuss these topics, by the way, I'm just saying that it annoys me when this is the ONLY thing people talk about when it comes to Dany). First, because this isn't the majority of her story, this is mostly part of her early story or backstory, and the main part of her story are the things she does after that, her triumphs and hardships trying to lead her people, fight a war, fight the status quo, and so on. It's a little annoying to see a character who has such a great complex political and magical storyline, a great adventure, all be reduced to "she is just an abused girl who suffered", with all other aspects of her story being ignored. But most importantly, I think this reading of Dany as this tragic character, by Dany stans and Dany haters alike, gives fuel to a bunch of other annoying readings of her character: the neutrals use the "oh so tragic" narrative to argue that her story has to end with her dying and she has nothing else to contribute to the main story other than sacrificing herself and be a tragic hero. Meanwhile, the antis use the "oh so tragic" narrative to claim that they sympathize with Dany, but her trauma is going to make her crazy, paranoid, a villain, etc. Or, when they don't say that her trauma is going to make her a villain, they claim that she was always a villain and use her "trauma" to claim that they sympathize with her and that her "trauma" makes her such a complex villain.

[aching-vellichor]

was writing this at work so apologies if it doesnt make much sense

started wondering abt dany’s nissa nissa, if it was drogo or rhaego or herself. this also got me thinking abt the azor ahai prophecy and how he attempted to forge lightbringer three times. we know the first time is when dany puts an egg in her brazier, and we know the third time is when the eggs hatch. but what was the second?

the nissa nissa to dany’s azor ahai (imo) is another example of the theme of three — specifically two “failures” and one success, w two of the failes nissa nissa’s being drogo + rhaego. and it didnt make much sense to me at first why that was such a simple and immediate answer, bc dany didnt sacrifice rhaego and, even if she did unintentionally, rhaego was sacrificed for drogo— not the dragons right?? but i think he WAS sacrificed for the dragons— in an instinctual and not quite correct way.

dany believes at the beginning of agot that viserys is the last dragon. but then he dies. so who’s left? she doesnt accept that its her— bc shes just a woman. her only role is wife + mother— not a woman unto herself. and as a woman, anything that is hers is her husbands. *drogo* is aegon the dragonlord come again, not dany.

dany believes drogo + rhaego r the key to bringing back dragons, that they r the ones who r “the last dragons” that they r the ones who will conquer + rule + be the stallion that mounts the world.

and she also, i think in her naivety and mistaken interpretation of her dragon dreams, believes that the Dragon that’s being awoken is a person— a targaryen. bc thats whats been taught to her, waking the dragon meant waking Viserys’ rage, meant conquering Westeros + bringing back the utopian dynasty that viserys proposed to her in her childhood.

perhaps, if she goes along w mmz’s plan to save drogo, *something* will happen that will explain to her what to do, something will happen that leads to Waking the Dragon and going back home— which she needs drogo for. plus she doesnt want to lose her husband, the only person on her side + the only person who could grant her the power to save ppl in situations similiar to her own. (the scene where dany tries to save a bunch of women from being raped and then murdered by claiming them as her own— if she wasnt khaleesi, she wouldnt be able to claim anything, if she wasnt khaleesi, she wouldve been one of them)

dany is going off of instincts and her dragon dreams w magic— its not surprising that she didnt anticipate that rhaego was going to be sacrificed. but i think the reason she questions whether or not she knew rhaego was going to die, and why rhaego is dany’s 2nd nissa nissa, is bc she does sacrifice rhaego, completely unknowingly but rh’llor and her magic pushing her towards a sacrifice, and her heart telling her to save the one person who cares for her.

but when she wakes up, with rhaego gone, and drogo hanging on by a thread, she learns that magic is more complicated than that. mmz teaches her that death and life meaning nothing on their own, blood is worthless without the power to use it. and she’s the only person who can take on that power now, the power to wake the dragon, especially bc mmz tells her she can no longer have children.

rhaego becomes daenerys’ first nissa nissa, a failed attempt to bring back the dragons. she didnt intentionally sacrifice rhaego, but he was sacrificed nonetheless. and the price for drogo’s life was paid already, as dany points out. mmz cheated dany, and her ultimate goal in sacrificing rhaego wasn’t to bring back drogo, but to kill the future stallion that mounts the world. rhaego’s sacrifice was “no gods work”— not a part of the spell. it was just mmz.

and she puts together the story we’ve been following— her first attempt to birth the dragons, putting the eggs in a fire, didnt work. bc of this, she thinks the eggs r truly dead, the dragons r gone, all thats left r the targs who she thinks is the Dragon her visions r calling her to awaken. the brazier wasnt hot enough, dany realizes later, after drogos death + when the pyre is burning. (also notice the great white lion skin is given to dany directly after her first attempt. similiar to azor ahai plunging the sword into the heart of a lion)

her second attempt to rebirth the dragons is sacrificing rhaego. not intentionally— but she was following her gut instincts and what her heart wanted. notice how after rhaego’s death she immediately asks for the eggs, almost like she anticipated something changing. like she anticipated them hatching. this fails because it was an unwilling sacrifice (all parties were unwilling. drogo was unaware, dany believed she was saving drogo, and rhaego was unaware bc hes a fetus lmao). also azor ahai plunged his failed lightbringer into water— which i thought could be connected to the water of dany’s womb? ik thats a stretch but figured id put it in there anyway lol

rhaego thus becomes dany’s first failed nissa nissa. this is only further re-enforced by dany’s dragon dream, where rhaego’s heart bursts into flames.

drogo’s death comes later, at daenerys’ own hand. just like how nissa nissa was killed by azor ahai. his death does not coincide with an attempt to hatch the dragons— but magic isnt exact, and it doesnt follow an exact recipe: as grrm has stated. his body, however, is sacrificed on the third attempt. dany places drogon’s egg next to drogo’s *heart* once again calling upon the imagery of a burning heart. for drogo’s egg to hatch, the fire must have reached drogo’s heart.

so on her third attempt, she puts together all of the pieces. a fire, three sacrifices, and a willing sacrifice. so she sacrifices herself, willfully, literally skipping into the fire.

and then, on the third attempt, and the only successful attempt, dany herself takes on the role of nissa nissa and willfully sacrifices herself to forge lightbringer— the dragons.