#the point is dany is the one who makes the subject uncomfortable because she's the one who NOTICES the problems in the system

[rhaenin-time]

"Ugh, Dany's so entitled for wanting to take back her ancestral seat. She's definitely going to be the villain to the hero Starks. I can't wait until they take back their ancestral seat — they're entitled to it, after all."

[danydragons21]

The Shadows That Sing: Ch. 9

Elriel Multi-Chapter Fic

Chapter 9 is up, and it’s definitely one of my favorites. I just love writing Vassa’s character!

Read it on Ao3 here: 

Shoutout to my betas @shedoessoshedoes and @helloyesimrhys!

Let me know your thoughts, my sweet Elriel babies. 

xoxo, dany

CHAPTER 9: TRUTHS AND LIES

An old man answered the door. Perhaps it was because she was around immortal and young-looking Fae all the time, but she thought he might be the oldest person she���d ever seen. Deep wrinkles formed grooves and channels among the topography of his face. His mortal heart started beating faster as he took in the sight of her and Azriel (though she was sure this was mostly due to Azriel’s intimidating presence rather than her own, since she was as intimidating as a sack of potatoes), but to the human’s credit, he gave no outward sign of fear.

After introducing himself as Damien, the Steward of the Manor, the man ushered them inside. A split staircase made of stone stood in the center of the spacious foyer, the wide steps leading to a roomy landing with two narrowing flights branching off to either side. The staircase railing was made of wrought iron. Stunningly intricate marble statues and busts atop podiums were placed strategically throughout the entrance hall, and as Elain’s slipper-clad feet pitter-pattered lightly across the black-and-white tiled floor, a glimmer of light caught her eye. Glancing upward, she saw a gigantic crystal chandelier hanging from the high ceiling. The light from the candles on the wall reflected against the crystals and cast glittering diamonds of colored light on various surfaces throughout the hall.

She and Azriel did not speak as they continued to follow Damien throughout the Manor. For such an old man, he was surprisingly quick, and she found herself wishing they could slow down, if only so she could admire her surroundings: astounding frescoes painted on the walls and ceilings, tapestries woven with what looked like real gold, and carpets so plush she thought she could sleep on them. But the Steward led them through the Manor’s winding hallways, and Elain settled for exploring the many treasures another time. She’d be here for a month, after all.

Eventually, they entered a hall that was much darker than the rest of the Manor, and much sparser.  Blood-red columns and dimly-lit candelabras lined the narrow corridor. Damien halted in front of a set of arched crimson doors at the end of the hall. Words, etched in gold, covered the doors’ surface, but it was of no language Elain could recognize.

“This is the entrance to the Throne Room. Her Grace is waiting inside for you both.” Damien said.

Elain and Azriel’s eyes met. With a slight nod of her head, Elain motioned to Azriel that she was fine, she was ready, she could do this. And it warmed some crucial part of her when Azriel nodded in return, offering her a small smile, his belief in her nearly palpable.

The doors flew open and the pair stepped inside the cavernous throne room. Lucien stood at the bottom of a set of steep steps. Above him, sitting on a golden gilded throne, was Vassa.

The mortal queen was utterly stunning. Fiery red hair fell to her shoulders, contrasting magnificently against her golden-brown skin. The top of her emerald gown was made of lace and clung tightly to her delicate torso. Once the dress hit her waist, it expanded outward, the perfectly-creased pleats flowing to the ground like a river. The train of the dress was so long it reached the bottom of the steps that led to the throne. Bright blue eyes scanned them smartly. The thought suddenly struck her that if anyone were to figure out her secret mission, it would be Vassa.

Elain curtsied deeply. “It’s lovely to meet you, Your Grace. Thank you for inviting me into your home.”

Vassa smiled slightly, though her piercing eyes still appraised Elain. “You are most welcome, Elain Archeron. Kingslayer . You are even more beautiful than Lucien has described.”

Elain remained silent, schooling her face into cold stone. She felt an irrational flash of rage at the thought of Lucien discussing her beauty like that, as though she was a painting to be ogled at like the frescos in the entrance hall. She snuck a glance at Azriel, trying to gauge his reaction, but his face was as steely as ever.

“I appreciate the compliment, Your Grace.” Elain said finally.

The mortal queen waved a dainty hand, her heavy bracelets jangling as she did so. “Call me Vassa. Your Grace is so formal, don’t you think? We’ll be living together for the next month, and if I have to hear such courtesies every day, I might as well just hand myself over to Koschei now.”

Elain blinked. Even Azriel seemed surprised at the queen’s words.

Clearing his throat, Lucien said, “You’ll realize soon, if you haven’t already, that Vassa does not have a filter. If she thinks it, she says it. It’s something she’s working on.”

Vassa scowled at Lucien, who grinned lightly back at her. Elain felt the strangest tug in her belly at the sight. Ignoring it, she said, “I appreciate the familiarity, Vassa.” Familiarities are for friends. She wondered what that made her and the mortal queen.

Turning her attention to Azriel, Vassa said, “Shadowsinger. It’s lovely to make your acquaintance again.”

Azriel bowed slightly. “Likewise, Your—Vassa,” he finished uncertainly.

She beamed, apparently pleased with his discomfort. “I hear you’re going to be a regular visitor at my manor. I hope you know that you are always welcome at any time, even outside of your scheduled sessions with Elain.” Elain felt an awkward tug around her heart, as though someone had tied a string around her ribcage and pulled. The feeling was uncomfortably familiar, and she knew without looking at Lucien that he would prefer the Shadowsinger not take the queen up on her offer.

Azriel inclined his head. “That’s very gracious of you.”

Grinning mischievously, Vassa said, “It’s not every day someone so devilishly handsome enters my home. I’d be silly not to take advantage of it.”

Elain’s eyes widened. She was not sure what she expected Vassa to be like, but never in her wildest dreams did she imagine her to be so... forward . She turned to Azriel slightly, gauging his reaction, only to find the Spymaster blushing . The knot in the pit of her stomach hardened.

“Is Vassa already scaring off the newcomers?” A drawling voice appeared from the other end of the throne room. Elain knew that voice. She’d heard it before, on two of the worst days of her life.

Jurian strolled into the room, all ease and confidence. He was quite handsome, she supposed, for a mortal, but he paled in comparison to both Azriel and Lucien’s otherworldly beauty. He stopped in front of Elain. “Lady Archeron,” he said, “It’s lovely to see you again.” He then proceeded to bend obscenely low, grab her hand and kiss it lightly, holding her gaze the entire time. Elain’s cheeks turned scarlet. She wasn’t sure she liked the man too much - he seemed far too arrogant.

“Elain is fine,” she told him evenly. He continued to hold her hand. Behind her, she heard the rustle of Azriel’s wings flexing ever so slightly.

“Jurian, you absolute prick, let go of her hand before you lose one of your own,” Vassa said, and although it was clear she was joking, an edge of honesty laced her words. The mortal queen’s eyes flitted to Lucien, who stood tensely beside her, frozen like a statue.

“Just welcoming our new roommate,” Jurian said. He winked at her, but dropped her hand all the same. The mortal then turned to Azriel. “Shadowsinger,” He said with a trace of apprehension. Jurian had been the one to shoot Azriel with an ash arrow in Hybern, Elain suddenly remembered, and her dislike for the man grew. Azriel acknowledged Jurian’s greeting with the smallest nod of his head, like he was flicking off an irksome fly. His shadows swirled ominously around him, and Elain was pleased to see Jurian wince slightly at the impressive display.

Vassa rose gracefully from her throne and made her way down the steep, stone steps. Jurian rushed to grab her hand, helping her down; Lucien’s eyes flashed curiously in response, but he said nothing.

“Azriel, you’ll be staying for a while, I hope?” Vassa asked.

The Shadowsinger nodded, his shadows bobbing along with the movement. “Yes. I’ll be making sure Elain settles in, and then I’ll depart after our daily training session.”

Vassa clapped her hands in excitement. “Oh, you must stay for dinner! I’m having the cooks prepare something special for Elain’s first evening here. We even imported some exotic wine from the southern realms. Oh, please say you’ll stay!” Her azure eyes gleamed with sincerity.

Shifting, Azriel replied stiffly, “I couldn’t possibly impose--”

“You wouldn’t be imposing. You would be a welcome guest. If anything, you’ll be doing Elain and I a favor, saving us from listening to Lucien and Jurian all evening. I’ve never met males who enjoy hearing themselves talk as much as these two.” The two males in question attempted to argue this point indignantly, but Vassa ignored them and looked expectantly at Azriel, awaiting his answer.

Elain bit back a grin as Azriel finally nodded his agreement. She’d never seen the Spymaster acquiesce to someone’s demand so quickly, but it was abundantly clear that Vassa excelled at the art of persuasion, the skill either stemming from her sharp intelligence, inviting aura, or some lethal combination of the two. Either way, she was certain that Vassa would not be easily fooled. That made Elain’s mission all the more difficult.

“Wonderful!” Vassa beamed at Azriel, who continued to look as awkward as she’d ever seen him. It was quite funny, really. “Now we can really get to know each other,” She winked.

Elain frowned. Quickly, she cast around for a new subject, but Lucien beat her to it.

“Have you had any more visions about Koschei?” He asked Elain.

“No, I have not.” She didn’t look at Lucien as she responded, instead staring at Vassa, who had gone still at the question.

“But you’re trying to see him, right? You’re trying to find a way for Vassa to get out of the curse?” Jurian demanded.

Elain blinked. “Yes, of course.” She answered.

Coolly, Azriel said, “Elain just started training her powers recently. She has made immense progress, but does not have complete control over what visions she receives. That will come in time.”

“We don’t have time,” Jurian growled.

Azriel’s wings snapped out menacingly as Vassa laid a steadying hand on Jurian’s arm.

“That was uncalled for, Jurian.” She told the man sternly. The voice of a queen talking to a subject. But when she turned to face Elain, emotion burned in her eyes.

“Please excuse my friend. This curse has, unfortunately, been a burden on us all. But I hope you know how grateful we are--how grateful I am-- that you are doing all you can to help me. After so long with no hope…to even have that glimmer of optimism returned, well, it means more than I can express.”

Elain swallowed back the lump in her throat. “I will do everything I can. I promise.” It was all the comfort she could offer, but Vassa nodded like it was enough.

“Well, enough of this horrifyingly morose chat! Elain, I would love to give you a tour of the Manor. I hear you enjoy gardening. I’m afraid we don’t have a garden on our grounds, but we have something else I think you’ll enjoy just as much. Would you like to see?”

It wasn’t like Elain could say no. Besides, Vassa had her curiosity piqued.

“Gladly,” She responded, smiling lightly.

“Should I come, too?” Azriel murmured. Elain looked up at him, surprised at the question. Why was he acting so protective?

“Oh, we’ll be just fine.” Vassa trilled. “Besides, the aggressive male testosterone emanating from you all is clogging up my pores. Us girls need some fresh air.”

Elain couldn’t help it. She giggled.

Everyone in the room turned to her. Embarrassed, she covered her mouth with her hands, lowering them just enough to whisper, “Sorry.”

But the human queen was smiling at her, something like approval glowing in her eyes. “Well, at least one of you has a sense of humor.”

***

Vassa led Elain through the manor’s hallways, pointing out various portraits of past queens, also known as her ancestors. “That’s my great-great-grandmother, Althea,” Vassa said, gesturing toward a painting of a particularly rotund woman with a face like a toad. “She was the most-hated queen of her age, and almost got my family kicked off the throne.��  

Elain’s eyebrows raised at that. “Why was she so hated?”

Vassa smirked slightly. “Did you see that painting of her? She looked like an old witch and had a personality to match. Althea would execute anyone who dared disagree with her, even if it was over something as insignificant as what tea to serve at breakfast. Thank God she died of The Pox before she could desecrate the family name anymore.”

Elain laughed, shaking her head slightly, bemused by this mortal queen with humor and heart as fiery as her tresses.

The Mortal Manor, it turns out, actually was a castle, or at least it had been built as one initially. A lesser Lord and Lady had lived there, so the castle was rather on the smaller side, according to Vassa, but Elain thought it would be a miracle if she ever managed to find her way around the place without an escort.

“It’s considered a manor now, though,” Vassa told Elain, lifting up a tapestry and motioning for her to follow. “It’s a secret passageway,” the queen said in response to Elain’s confused look. “I can’t say it’s much of a secret, though; I’m pretty sure every handmaiden and their pet cat know about it. It’s rather short and just leads to the conservatory.”  

The conservatory, it turned out, was the most beautiful room Elain had ever seen. It’s high and arching walls were made entirely out of wide windows. Rows of colorful blooms, perfectly trimmed hedges and shrubs, sprawling plants, and flowers of every kind covered nearly every surface of the wide and spacious area. Heavy sunlight refracted in the glass, coating the various fauna in a blazing, golden brilliance. In the very center was a rectangular pool; lilies floated lazily on the clear and calm surface. The heavenly scent the flowers emitted, the angelic glow of the afternoon sun against the blossoms, the soft chirping of the birds that lived in this cavernous haven...she took a deep breath, soaking in the sudden and steady sense of peace she felt.

“Do you like it?” Vassa’s voice shattered the quiet of Elain’s thoughts.

Turning around, Elain saw the mortal queen standing a bit behind her, a curiously vulnerable look on her face. As if she was nervously awaiting Elain’s reaction. As if she truly cared about her opinion.

It softened that part of Elain. That part she’d hoped to shove away and ignore during her stay because she knew it would only complicate her mission. While her sisters were vehement and slightly mistrustful of every stranger until proved otherwise, Elain had always found a way to connect with each person she came across. Like ivy, sprawling and uncontrollable, her heart just reached out to others.

And that’s what happened now, as she stared at this passionate and willful young woman who she rather liked but was assigned the task of spying on her: Elain’s heart reached out to her.

“It’s sublime,” Elain told her honestly. A beaming grin appeared on Vassa’s face, and Elain couldn’t stop her own smile. “Thank you, truly, for showing me.”

“I hope it makes you feel a little more at home.”

“It does. You’re very kind.”

Vassa smiled again and walked forward to lightly stroke a gardenia. When she turned to face Elain again, the smile was gone, replaced with a look Elain could only describe as queenly . “I know why you’re here,” Vassa said.

Elain froze. “What?” She asked, her throat dry. How could she have figured it out already? Elain had been nothing but polite and kind and oh-so-convincing --

“I know you are not interested in the bond with Lucien,” Vassa said, and Elain’s racing heart relaxed slightly. “He’s told me much about your interactions, and while I don’t blame you for anything...I think it’s clear to everyone here that you have no desire to connect with Lucien. So that’s why you’re here, isn’t it? To reject the bond once and for all.”

Swallowing nervously, Elain said, “I...I’m not sure what to say.”

“The truth,” Vassa replied simply. “Just tell me the truth. What is it you want to accomplish during your stay?”

Just be yourself . Azriel’s voice rang in her ears.

“I don’t know, “ Elain answered. “I am not sure exactly what I want to accomplish. And that’s the truth.”

And it was the truth, to a point. Enough of the truth to cloak any deceptions. That’s how Azriel operated, a mix of honesty and an omittance of anything that might erase that honesty. Just enough truth to hide the lies beneath. And so that’s what Elain emulated as she spoke to the mortal queen.

Vassa appraised her for a moment, her sharp blue eyes gleaming. “Why do you detest Lucien so?”

“I don’t detest him.” Another truth, one that Elain had barely admitted to herself. “I just…” she breathed deeply, longing for air and for the insight of what to say next. Truth and lies , she reminded herself. “All I know about him is that he didn’t help Feyre when she needed it most. That he worked with the King of Hybern to steal her back. To steal me , and Nesta. And, whether or not he knew of the King’s plan, he was still there the night my future and my freedom were ripped from me in mere moments. And ever since then...ever since then, I haven’t known what to do with myself at all.”

It was, perhaps, the most she’d ever spoken about the emptiness the Cauldron had left in her. Feyre and the others told her that the Cauldron had gifted her with her powers, while Nesta had stolen from it, but it didn’t feel like that to Elain. No, all she felt was an aching hollowness that echoed in her very bones. A constant and cruel reminder of all she’d lost.

Vassa stared at her, her beautiful face unreadable in the glowing sun. “It changes you,” She finally said. “To have such decisions, to have such freedom taken away from you…” Vassa inhaled sharply, tilting her head up to face the gleaming sun. Elain watched her, watched her golden skin reflecting in the light, watched as the mortal queen whipped her head back. “I understand how you feel, Elain. I hope you know that.”

And while Elain did not know the full extent of Vassa’s story or exactly what she’d gone through while under Koschei’s grasp, she believed her. And she didn’t just think it was because of Vassa’s endearing personality or her own - what had Azriel called it? - ability to inspire trust in others. She felt a kinship in Vassa, like she’d known her in a past life. But she couldn’t put all that into words, so she just nodded.

Vassa combed through her fiery hair and then said in a calm voice, “I also hope you know that, over the past year, I have spent a lot of time with Lucien. I would never try to negate the trauma that you’ve experienced, or try and convince you that he did not play a part in it, willing or not. But I will tell you this, as objectively and simply as I can: He is a good male, Elain. He would never force you to accept the bond. Just as he would never tell you how much your denial and evasion is tearing him apart. I say this as his friend...and as yours.”

Elain just blinked. The honesty was scalding and refreshing all at once. And while her stomach twisted angrily every time she thought of her sisters telling her to address the bond, she found she didn’t really mind Vassa talking about it.

“While you are here, I hope you get to know him. And at the end of your stay, I hope you can make a decision about the bond. One way or another.”

“I will,” Elain said. “I will make a decision.” And it was entirely, completely, wholly the truth.

***

Azriel sat in the dining room with Jurian and Lucien. After an uncomfortable and tense tour of the Manor, the three had gone to the dining room for dinner. The two females had not yet arrived, though.

Elain had been gone with Vassa for a long time. Or perhaps the incredible awkwardness between him and the two males just made it seem like a long time. Either way, he needed Elain to return soon, or else he might just go mad, stuck with just these two pricks and his morose thoughts for company. He couldn’t stop reliving the conversation from the previous evening, when Elain had agreed to this foolish plan. It was nearly unbearable for Azriel, to sit there and listen to everyone try and convince Elain that the bond was something she had to address. Why should she have to do anything? She didn’t ask for the bond. It was clear she didn’t want it.

And yet Azriel said nothing, did nothing, just let them all bombard her with their words and pressures. He didn’t even need his shadows to know how upset it made Elain, how her beautiful face fell into itself a little more with every word the others spoke.

She had agreed in the end, though. And he kicked himself for ever holding out hope that she wouldn’t.

It’s not that he didn’t have faith in her. He knew she could fool and charm just about anyone, so he wasn’t worried about her spying skills. Spying was simply hiding in plain sight, and Elain certainly excelled at that.

No, he was worried about something else entirely. Someone else, to be exact. Because whatever the others might say about not caring if Elain accepted or rejected the bond, he knew that wasn’t true. Elain accepting the bond would be incredibly beneficial in improving the Night Court’s relationships with both the Autumn Court and the Spring Court, and would ensure the continued support of Vassa. As much as Azriel didn’t like Lucien, he couldn’t help but feel a begrudging sort of respect to the highly influential male who held sway over multiple courts. But that didn’t give any of them the fucking right to pressure Elain into anything .

The Mortal Manor made him feel even worse. His shadows had rarely ever been limited in their power, and so it was strange to have them so confined. They could move, of course, and still followed his command, but the entirety of the manor seemed to be close enough to Vassa that all his shadows heard were a faint humming noise, like a mosquito buzzing in his ear.

Even with Vassa out of the room, the buzzing lingered. He wished he could have gone with them (not only did he wish to keep Elain in his sight while he still could, but he had no desire to spend quality time with Lucien and Jurian, both of which were arguably two of his least favorite beings. If only Eris was here to complete the motley trio).

Lucien had yet to speak to him directly since his arrival. Azriel knew it was because of his parting remarks the week before -- his warning. About what he’d do to Lucien if the male ever forced Elain to do something she didn’t want to do. He didn’t regret it, not in the slightest. But sitting across from Lucien’s murderous glower wasn’t exactly an enjoyable experience. He’d rather do something more pleasant, like stick toothpicks under his nails.

And Jurian was, if possible, even worse. The human never. Shut. Up. He talked constantly, about any and every thing that popped into his head, it seemed.

Now I feel even worse about leaving Elain here. His cold heart hardened a little more at the thought.

The doors swung open and Vassa sashayed into the dining room, Elain following.

It took all his effort to not let his mouth drop as he took in the middle Archeron sister. She was wearing a silver gown with material so smooth and sleek it looked liquid. The dress clung to her small chest and the generous curves of her rear like a second skin, but she still somehow looked innocent, intoxicatingly so. Her golden-brown hair was piled into an elegant but simple updo at the top of her head, a few curls hanging loosely around her angelic face.

A heaviness settled in his chest as his eyes zeroed in on her exposed neck. It seemed the greatest tragedy of his life: he’d touched her there, once.

Elain’s eyes flitted up and locked with his, and time ceased to exist, for a brief moment. That was all he and Elain were allowed to have. Fleeting moments, as vital as they were destructive.

“Sorry we’re late,” Vassa said airily. She was wearing a new dress as well, Azriel suddenly noticed.  He frowned. Usually his shadows would have told him that the two females had ventured to their respective quarters to change. Without his shadows abilities working, he felt impaired.

The two females settled themselves into chairs. Azriel tried to control his disappointment when Vassa took the empty chair to his left, leaving Elain to sit between Lucien and Jurian.

“How was your afternoon?” Lucien asked Elain.

Bitterness filled his chest at the gentle, cautious way he spoke to her, like he was approaching a timid animal. She was not a creature to be coddled and comforted. She was a lethal and lovely force of nature.

“It was delightful. How was yours?” She kept her voice neutral, not engaging but not dismissive. His stomach dropped at the light that appeared in Lucien’s eyes.

“It was pleasant, as well. I’m glad you enjoyed your afternoon. I hope you know how excited I...how excited Vassa has been to have you here.”

Ignoring his stumble, Elain smiled tightly and nodded once before piling green beans onto her plate. Her eyes flashed up to Azriel; he was watching her closely, but could see nothing in her expression besides discomfort. Good. Without it, she would seem suspicious to the others.

But then Elain began asking Lucien and Jurian a few questions; it was casual, polite conversation, but still: she was initiating it. He stabbed his chicken angrily with his fork, trying to ignore her light, lilting voice, trying to pretend the sound didn’t make his skin tingle.

“Are you alright?” Vassa asked him. The mortal queen was watching him curiously.

“Yes,” Azriel responded shortly.

Vassa arched an eyebrow. “You’re quite prickly, you know.”

Azriel frowned. “And you’re quite nosy.”

Across the table, Elain froze with a forkful of beans halfway to her mouth, dark eyes flashing in warning. Azriel almost chuckled at her shock. But then Vassa laughed, an uninhibited, ringing sound. “Yes,” She agreed.

“So I’m curious,” Vassa began, swirling her wine glass and taking a deep sip before continuing, “What is your stake in all of this?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

Vassa nodded across the table to Elain, who had returned to her conversation with the other two males. “You’re helping her train. Why?”

Azriel stiffened. “My High Lord and Lady asked me to. As a member of the Night Court, it is my duty and my honor to serve their wishes to the best of my ability.”

“Oh, please,” Vassa said loudly, and Azriel saw the others glance curiously at her before continuing their conversation. “Don’t feed that bullshit to a Queen. I may not know you, but I know of you, and reputation eclipses familiarity, much of the time. You don’t do anything you don’t want to do. So, I’ll ask again...what is your stake in all of this?”

You don’t do anything you don’t want to do. How he wished that was true. But he kept his face as unreadable as ever as he said, “Helping her means helping you, and that means helping my Court. I am sorry that my answer is not the one you were looking for.”

“So you and Elain aren’t close? That’s rather surprising. Aren’t both of your alleged brothers mated to her sisters? And you’re quite protective over her.”

His wings tensed. This mortal woman was certainly tenacious. And observant. “I wouldn’t say we are particularly close,” Azriel said. Anymore, he thought. “But I would consider her...a friend.” He finished.

Vassa surveyed him for a moment, her piercing blue eyes nearly scorching in their intensity. Azriel held her gaze. Whatever Vassa found, she seemed to accept, as she turned back to the others.

“She certainly is an easy person to be friends with,” Vassa said, watching Elain with a small smile on her face. And that’s how easy it was for Azriel to see that, like everyone who’d ever met the middle Archeron sister, the mortal queen had fallen under Elain’s spell.

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Azriel replied, “Yes. She is.”

***

After dinner, Elain and Azriel left the others for her training session. Elain had asked if they could hold the sessions in the conservatory - “It just makes me feel safer and more in control of myself, to be in such a beautiful place,” Elain said to Vassa at dinner. The queen had lit up at Elain’s request, telling her the room was hers as long as she needed it.

So that’s how Az found himself in the manor’s conservatory with Elain. It was dark outside, now, but the moon shone so brightly that they had no trouble seeing.

She sat across from him on a bench in the very center of the cavernous atrium, her wide brown eyes surveying the peaceful scene in front of her.

“This is a nice place,” Azriel commented lamely.

This is a nice place?! He could not be more awkward if he tried.

But of course Elain did not tease him. Not like she used to. Because they weren’t friends anymore.

Instead, she said, “It is, isn’t it? I also figured it would be difficult for anyone to overhear us here.”

Az grinned. “Smart,” he said truthfully.

Shrugging, Elain said with a slight sparkle in her eye, “It’s been known to happen.” There . Even if it was faint...that little piece of her that treated him with amusement and (dare he say it?) affection still existed.

“You did well today,” He told her, leaning back and stretching out his long legs.

“It was easier than I thought,” Elain said. “To pretend...or at least to hide. I don’t know if that makes me happy or not.”

He cocked his head. “Why wouldn’t that make you happy?”

She looked at him. “It feels an awful lot like lying. I don’t want to be a liar.”

Azriel found he did not know what to say to that.

“I do think the conservatory will help with my training,” Elain mused, turning her gaze up to the wide windows. The moon gleamed through the glass panes like a beacon. “The peaceful darkness...the quiet contentment...the vibrant life you can feel ...all of it makes me feel more in control of myself. More powerful, even.” She smoothed down the front of her gown. “It was very kind of Vassa to offer this room up to us.”

“She thinks very highly of you.”

“I know.” Elain’s voice was tired, resigned. “I could easily see myself becoming friends with her. But I know that would only complicate my mission.”

“Perhaps. It’s all about finding a balance. You can respect her, like her even, share confidences and stories and experiences...but it’s true you need to stay objective. Get close to Vassa - but not too close. The same goes for both Jurian and...and Lucien.” The name tasted like vinegar in his mouth, but he forced himself to say it.

Elain was quiet for a long moment, lost in her thoughts. “Shall we begin training?” She asked after a while.

“One other thing first.” Straightening up and fully turning his body to face Elain, he waited until she met his gaze. Trepidation filled her brown eyes as she noticed his solemn intensity.

“What?” She asked slowly.

“Are you ready to talk about how your hands glowed at dinner last night?”

[ecto-american]

Humanity

Upon their arrest by the GIW together, Valerie learns something interesting about Phantom and herself that make her question just how human both herself and Phantom are.

note that this isn’t a phic phight thing, just something i wrote literally months ago for Lexx but forgot that i wrote

on FFN and AO3

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They didn't even have the decency to arrest her before Mr. Lancer's class. Being arrested for...well, the Guys in White were never really clear as to why they showed up to Casper High to arrest her. But whatever the reason, that would have been one hell of an excuse as to why she was not just missing, but why she couldn't turn in that book report that she not only didn't do, but hadn't even read a single page of yet. Valerie had an inkling she knew why, but she remained completely silent the entire march out the front doors of the school. She wasn't an idiot after all.

The agent to her left opened the door, and the agent to her right put his hand on her head to duck her into the white SUV. The door closed, and Valerie glanced to see just how tinted the windows were, as well as the police-style framing of the windows and the separation between the driver and passenger as well as the backseat dwellers.

"Oh, I was wondering why we stopped here."

That familiar voice made her jump, and she turned to see Phantom. He was in the exact same predicament. Hands behind his back, leaning against the seat, though she could immediately tell that his handcuffs were much clunkier and glowed. Obviously anti-ghost.

"You!" Valerie hissed. She immediately leaned into the window, lifting her leg up, and she began to kick him repeatedly. "What the hell are you doing here!?"

"Ow!" Phantom hissed as she got him in the shoulder, and then his rib. She didn't stop, and she didn't miss. "AH! Fuck, stop it! OW!"

"Knock it off!" one of the agents boomed. The sudden, strict tone made Valerie pause. She kicked him one more time, square in the face, before finally stopping.

Phantom made a weird wheezing noise, and she saw him shift to rub his nose on his upper arm and shoulder. He frowned.

"My nose is bleeding," he complained.

"I hope your nose is broken!" Valerie snapped back at him.

Phantom glared at her. He made a weird noise in his throat, and it took Valerie a moment to realize what he was doing. Preparing spit. And indeed, the ghost teen stuck his tongue out, drool instantly dripping, and he leaned in. Valerie instantly leaned away from him.

"Ew! Gross! Get away from me!" she complained.

"Nu-uh!" Phantom replied, his tongue still out as he continued to scoot. He got close enough to open his mouth, and some of his saliva dripped onto her knee.

"Gross, gross, gross!" she shrieked. Valerie kicked him in the side, and Phantom let out a pained wheeze.

"Knock. It. Off," the other agent snapped at them. They had gotten into the driver and passenger's seat, and both were glaring at them.

"She started it!" Phantom accused. The driver frowned at him, obviously not amused. Phantom scooted back to his side of the backseat. Valerie stayed pressed against the window and door. She could hear the drive mutter something about hating kids before turning the vehicle on, and they drove off.

--------------------------

They made the duo sit in the interrogation room for three hours, according to the clock. They had, thankfully, just connected the teenagers to the table via a long chain and handcuffs, so that they could at least be a bit more comfortable, even though Phantom, and for some reason her, were both given anti-ghost bracelets to wear. A box of tissues were also tossed onto the table, and Phantom had spent the first half hour tending to his bloodied nose. He stuffed all the used tissues, grossly, into his pocket, though she suspected why he did that. It had his DNA on it.

Phantom nor her attempted conversation. Neither were stupid. They essentially stared at each other and the walls, their only words were occasional out-loud wondering of when somebody was going to show up to question them already.

Obviously her more pressing question was why the hell they were still together. For some reason, Phantom was with her every step of the way of their weird little field trip. They got escorted in together, processed together, and now were sat at the exact same interrogation table. Why? She had absolutely no idea. Didn't they normally separate people they arrested?

At exactly 6:38 PM, somebody finally opened the door, and she and Phantom sat straight up.

The agent that sat before them was a large man, muscular and tall with big hands and sunglasses that fully blocked any chance of the teens from seeing what he was looking at.

"We know you're both half-ghost."

Valerie's mind instantly went to Vlad. That must have been what he was...she had been debating with herself for weeks now as to what he was. A ghost disguised as a human? A human who had ghost powers?

She pushed those aside to look at Phantom. To her surprise, he was pale. Nearly as white as his hair, with anxiety sweat drops beginning to form. Her interest peaked instantly. Silence hung in the air. The man said nothing, simply keeping his attention intensely on them. Valerie

"That's ridiculous," Valerie finally said something. She nearly added that the entire idea itself was ridiculous too. Well, it kind of was. It was so weird to grasp, but it wasn't really something that she wanted to think too hard about these days, and especially now. There was nothing more that she'd love to do than to throw that manipulative old bastard under the weird half-ghost freak bus. However, not only was it probably not a good idea to start beef with a literal superpowered-villain billionaire...but Dani was still out there.

"Don't lie to me." The man sounded agitated. "Both of your ectoplasmic readings are abnormal."

Ectoplasmic reading? Her? Valerie stared at him as if he had grown a second head.

"I shouldn't have any ectoplasmic reading," she pointed out. "I'm alive. Alive people don't have ectoplasmic readings."

The man opened up his folder, pulling out a few choice pieces of papers to slide her way. Phantom silently watched them, his eyes wide and his face looking utterly blank yet...so fearful. Valerie opted to ignore him for a while, accepting the papers to hold as she read through them.

She was familiar with how to read ectoplasmic readings, charts and monitors by now. Green eyes scanned the data, frowning in confusion as she checked the details, and she could see out of the corner of her eye Phantom leaning in to read too. She adjusted her position so that he couldn't.

This description was definitely her, and...she was giving off ectoplasmic readings. Not really in the same way as a normal ghost; there was something distinctively different about hers that any set of trained eyes could pick up on. But how?

"I don't understand," Valerie spoke slowly. "I'm alive." She put the documents back down on the table. "You can take a swap or slap some ghost goop stuff on me. Hell, prick my finger." Valerie held her palm out to the man. Her anti-ghost bracelet sparkled a bit in the light of the room. At least she now knew why they made her wear the bracelets too. "I'm not dead."

The interviewer stared intently at her hand. He gave a neutral hum of acknowledgement, swooping the papers back up.

"Testing and experiments will be reserved for a later time," he replied. Valerie got instant goosebumps. Testing and experiments? "Maybe a few hours in holding will help you realize why you should just come clean to us."

"Can I get some water first?" Valerie asked. The agent snorted in amusement as he stood up.

"Ghosts don't eat or drink."

She felt numb, and she had no idea how to respond to that. Two more agents came into the room, and they silently took the teenagers further into the building until they reached a door. The third agent opened it, and Phantom and Valerie were ushered inside.

The room almost immediately led into bars, and the first thing Valerie could think of was just how much it looked like jail. Two uncomfortable looking bunk beds on either side, a toilet in the middle, a small sink, and no windows. The light was dim, and the room was cold.

Phantom was pushed in first, and then Valerie, and the bars clunked as they closed. She turned to see the bars begin to glow as the bars were locked.

And there was no goodbyes. The agents were eerily silent as they filed out, and the door was shut behind them. She could hear the faint click as it also locked.

Valerie turned to see Phantom's reaction, and he still looked shaken and pale. She already suspected the answer, but she needed to hear it.

"So...are you?" Valerie asked.

"No!" Phantom's answer was way too quick. "What about you? Don't you hate ghosts?"

"I'm not half ghost!" she snapped back. "I have no clue why they'd think that."

Phantom studied her for a moment. His eyes lit up.

"Your suit!" he declared. "The one Technus gave you. It must make your reading wonky."

The second he reminded her, she felt a cold shiver. Suddenly her heartbeat felt off, and she assumed she was colder than usual because of...ya know. That couldn't be true. It had to be wonky readings. The suit was so nice...so much nicer than the suit that she had made herself. It was so much more powerful, so much nicer, just flat out cooler.

She put her heart over her chest. She still had a heartbeat, right?

"What's your excuse?" she asked. Phantom didn't say anything. He turned his attention to the wall, staring blankly at it.

"...Why would they let us stay trapped in here together?" Phantom changed the subject. Valerie narrowed her eyes at him, but she had to admit. It was a good point. "Especially knowing that we'd just plot our escape together."

"Pump the breaks, Phantom. I'm not escaping," Valerie scoffed. "They'll realize their mistake and just let me go."

"Well, they're not gonna let me go," Phantom frowned. "The Guys in White don't exactly play nice with ghosts. And I'm not leaving without you."

"Not my problem," Valerie replied. She raised an eyebrow at him. "Unless...of course there's a reason for it to be my problem."

"You can't just do it out of the kindness of your heart?" Phantom sounded sarcastic, despite staring at her desperately. Valerie crossed her arms. "Please?"

"Give me one good reason to escape with you."

And thus began a staring contest. Phantom shifted from foot to foot, and he glanced at the floor. A lightbulb made the realization click. The GIW knew her identity. They arrested her at school. But they didn't know Phantom's. Nobody probably did. This was likely a ploy to get them to reveal themselves to each other. How or why, Valerie wasn't sure. But now it was glaringly obvious to her.

Phantom was half-ghost. Just like Dani. Just like Vlad. The Guys in White don't play nice with ghosts, and she had a strong feeling that they didn't care much about playing nice with humans either. Especially if they suspected that there was ghost within them.

"Nevermind," Valerie sighed. Phantom stared at her, and he...looked scared. "I can destroy ghosts…" But I really can't take part in destroying a human.

Phantom grew a bit pale again, as they both knew the unspoken words. He took a deep, shaky breath. His reaction was all she needed to know, that this wasn't some weird lie or ploy.

"So. What's our game plan?" he asked.

Valerie studied their surroundings. She reached out to touch the bars of their shared cell, taking immediate note that she wasn't shocked.

"Well, obviously there's that big shield outside," Valerie lightly mused.

"I can get past that shield," Phantom spoke up. "Under the...right circumstances."

Valerie nodded. If Phantom was able to turn human away from the prying eyes of cameras and more, they could both obviously escape right out the front door. Hell, they could likely utilize both Phantom and his? Human? Side? Whatever he was called.

"This facility was designed for ghosts, not humans," Phantom continued. "If we worked together, we can probably make a quick exit." Valerie hummed in agreement.

"That's not just enough," Valerie replied. "I'll just get arrested again. They know who I am. Like, they know Valerie Gray is the huntress." Phantom frowned, and he thought for a moment.

"We could maybe delete their evidence files or something?" he suggested. Valerie paced their cell for a moment.

"There has to be some kind of computer security room somewhere," Valerie spoke aloud to herself. "If we can find it, we can probably wipe evidence and also fully take down the shield."

Phantom leaned against the back wall of the cell.

"I don't think that's enough," he replied. Valerie stopped pacing to stare at him. "We need to make sure the Guys in White don't do this again. Ever. Never even have the chance to get to this point again." Valerie scowled.

"They help hunt ghosts!" she protested.

"And they'd consider Danielle a ghost and rip her to shreds," Phantom countered. The reminder of that little girl hit her straight in the gut. She sighed.

"I don't know," she said slowly.

"They're a government organization, they'll rebuild," Phantom pushed. "We just need to stall them long enough to buy time for us to figure out how to keep you, Danielle and I safe."

She hated it, but...yeah. She wasn't really in the best position either. Valerie had no clue what was going on with her, but the Guys in White were incredibly persistent...and she knew her dad wouldn't be able to afford a lawyer for her anymore.

Valerie held her wrist up. Her suit's bracelet was basically hidden underneath the anti-ghost one, but she could still feel it there. Her suit wasn't gone. She could still access it, and that made her feel more confident in that she was still human. Which she had to be. Right?

Valerie activated her suit, and she held her wrist up to read the screen. She pressed a few buttons.

"I think I can figure out a map of this place," she said. "And from there we can see where's what."

Her forearm glowed brightly as it gathered data. It took a few moments of calculating, but soon, she had her results. Phantom was soon peering over her shoulder, both of them studying the map.

"How accurate is this?" Phantom questioned.

"It tends to be fairly decent. Sometimes it's hit or miss with collapsed buildings, but overall it's spot on," she replied. She adjusted the screen, zooming it out. "I can only get the floor we're on though."

"That looks like it could be some kind of utility room," Phantom pointed to a specific room. Valerie zoomed in on it, studying it.

"Yeah," she said slowly. "Yeah. Gotta be. It's got a lot of power coming to or from there. Has to be a source, or at the very least some kind of major technology area."

"Either way, we should destroy it," Phantom said. Valerie frowned.

"I don't know," she hesitated.

"I mean, you can't even summon your powers."

Phantom glanced down at his wrists, glancing curiously at them before setting his sights on Valerie's arms.

"Can you shoot them off?" he asked.

Valerie tried to summon one of her weapons. She waited. And she waited. Nothing came, and her gut became queasy. She couldn't get her ghost weapon. None of them would summon. This had to be a bad sign. Or was it just the GIW prepared against humans too? That was the most logical explanation. She couldn't be…But also she could be...after all the ectoplasmic readings...

"Um, actually, I think I can…" Phantom's voice caused her to truly look at him again. The ghost was fiddling with his wristbands, using his knees to lock it in place as he attempted to slip his wrist through the band with no success.

"Here, let me try," Valerie interrupted him. Phantom glanced up at her.

"Can you shoot them?" he asked. Valerie forced a weak smile, but she held up a screwdriver.

"Got something even better. My travel tool kit," she replied. After too many breakdowns in the field, she had replaced a small pouch that previously held smoke bombs, something she rarely used, with a few small tools. It was easily one of the best choices she made.

Phantom held his wrist out to her, and she turned the bracelet around. Eventually she managed to pry a piece of the metallic covering off, exposing screws and a few wires. Valerie didn't undo or cut anything right away, both her and Phantom silently trying to make sense of the connection and mechanics behind it. Would really suck to find out the hard way that disconnecting a certain wire would trigger an alarm, after all.

"I think you shouldn't touch the red wire," Phantom lightly mused. "Pretty sure that's a power, and if you turn it off it'll be bad news."

"Mmm, yeah," Valerie agreed. "I think I can just unscrew this though, and we should just be careful to not slip the wires off."

Phantom nodded, and he waited patiently as she did just so. After twenty minutes of careful disconnecting, Phantom had two hands free, and he flexed his hands with a happy sigh.

"God, that just feels so much better," he told her. He motioned for her to hand him the screwdriver. "Here, I'll do yours." Valerie shook her head.

"I can't leave. I won't say anything if you escape, but they know my identity."

Phantom frowned.

"I'm not leaving you here. Come on, you saw your map. We can destroy their power. We can destroy this entire building," he began, only for Valerie to cut him off.

"And do more destruction? Is that all you think about?" she snapped. "You're safe. They know my identity. You want me to get more charges or something? I can't risk it. I'll just stay here. They'll figure out soon enough that I'm fully human." A full human who apparently had mixed logic as to whether or not they could use their ghost hunting suit. If she was fully human, she could summon those weapons, right? Unless it was specifically preventing any ghost weapon, regardless of the user, use it.

"Red, I don't think you understand," Phantom told her. "They're not going to go easy on you. Even if you prove you're human, they're not going to believe you. You heard them. They already denied you contact to the outside world."

That reminder sent a chill down her spine.

"Then tell my dad," she told him. Phantom stared at her. He began to unzip his suit, and she instantly began to look away. "Dude, what the hell?"

"Valerie, look at me," he demanded.

"You're naked!" she protested.

"I'm not naked, just look."

She decided to humor him with the intention of taking a quick peek. But when she saw him, she felt a cold sweat hit her. Phantom had only zipped enough to expose his chest, and there was a distinctive Y-patterned scar on his chest that stood out against the other scars.

"This is what happened last time I was trapped here. I'm not going to leave you alone here," he stated. He suddenly looked away, and he quickly zipped his suit back up. "There's no way in hell I'm going to risk this happening to you. Red, you need to come with me."

That urgent gut feeling of needing to go finally crashed into her. The GIW would never believe her. Not just because of stubbornness, but...Valerie herself wasn't even sure anymore.

She swallowed dryly, and she nodded. Her right wrist was offered to him.

"Do you know what to do?" she asked. Phantom scowled.

"I just watched you do it," he reminded her. She rolled her eyes, but held her wrist up for him, and a half hour later, she too, was free.

She wasn't sure if she was more concerned or relieved to instantly feel that distinctive rush of power back. The second Phantom removed her bracelet, she knew that she could summon any of her ghost weapons now at her fingertips. But she could still summon her suit regardless, and activate her GPS abilities. Was this normal? Valerie had no clue what this meant anymore.

"So, next step, I think we can escape through here."

Valerie looked up to see Phantom was now floating by the vent at the top of their cell. He was already using her screwdriver to undo the vent cover. She pulled her map back up on her forearm, glancing at it and studying it.

"I'm pretty sure the vent will go straight to that electric room," she told him.

"Oh, now you're finally seeing the big picture?" Phantom lightly teased, glancing over his shoulder as he popped the vent cover off. She nodded at him, but didn't crack a smile.

"...You and Dani may look just alike, but I never want you two to have matching scars," she said. Phantom's smile dropped, and he nodded in agreement.

He placed the vent covering on the top bunk, handing Valerie back her screwdriver. She slipped it back in it's pouch.

"Here, I'll give you a boost up," Phantom offered, pressing his hands together. She nodded, stepping a foot onto his hand. With ease, Phantom pushed her up, and she grabbed onto the vent, pulling herself in. It was surprisingly fairly roomy yet not, and she managed to get comfortable on her stomach, pulling her map back up.

"Ready to commit several federal crimes?" Phantom's voice half joked. She looked behind her the best she could to see the ghost right behind her. She snorted in amusement.

"Ready as I'll ever be," she replied. "Just follow me. It's time to give these idiots hell."

And hell they did. Who knew that the Guys in Whites headquarters could cause such a colorful explosion.

[tjlikesprettythings]

@thatwaxlion: Also, wouldn't mind to see a jealous Dani from you! No, I wouldn't mind it all. In fact, I hereby declare my prompt request.

I have answered your request, once again, I should really be working (perks of working from home) but I’m having too much fun writing these so enjoy my friend!

Prompt: Jealous Dani Dani stood beside the window of the Conrad hotel ballroom, scanning the crowd of the charity fundraiser where their suspects are expected to make an appearance. She had to wondered if ever since Bright joined the team they find themselves in these high society events more and more, as if the killers are attracted to his background.

It was no shocker that Jessica Whitly was on the guest-list of this particular fundraising event and so naturally Malcolm and herself were able to get in unnoticed, and Gil offered to escort Jessica. Dani tried to keep her smile from blooming, recalling the look on Jessica Whitly’s face when Gil appeared in his tux, the woman looked like she could use a drink, practically parched from the way her mouth fell open. She had to admit, Gil definitely filled out a tux just fine.

Jessica’s quick recovery was pointed to her next, “Dani, you look absolutely ravishing, gosh that color is fabulous on you.” As she looked her up and down, Dani’s orange full sleeve silk ensemble with the deep V cut and wrapping accent on the waist that framed her body perfectly before billowing out at the hem with a split up the middle, was not only elegant but very alluring. Her Hair was pulled up to a high ponytail completed with some statement gold pieces. She had thanked Mrs. Whitly graciously though she did find the attention a bit uncomfortable. 

What she had failed to notice in her spying of her boss and Whitly matriarch was the way Bright’s eyes swept her from head to toe, if he thought her ensemble to the Taylor wedding was something, then he wasn’t prepared for this. He swallowed the lump in his throat and a familiar burn in his stomach as he walked up to join her.

But that was the point of tonight, to stand out and appeal to their suspects. They deduced that this duo worked in a team of charming couples who targeted wealthy men and women of high society, seduced them, blackmailed them and then cleared up the loose ends by killing them.

JT ran operations from the van, opting to stay out of a ‘monkey suit’ as he put it. Keeping an eye through the security cams and listening in on their comms. She scanned the room filled with guests decked out to the nines and wait staff as they walked the room with wine glasses, champagne flutes and hors d'oeuvres. She found herself rolling her eyes, of course rich people made a party of helping the less fortunate. 

She finished her sweep only to find a very attractive brunette talking to Malcolm at the bar, she turned up her comms and listened in. 

“I haven’t seen you in one of these in a while,” She said waving to the bartender for a drink. 

Malcolm chuckled and nodded, “yeah, not really my scene. I only attend when it is absolutely necessary.”

Dani could tell they knew each other, there was a familiarity in the way she spoke to him, “I imagine Jessica is the absolutely necessary factor here.” She teased as she took a sip of her wine. “Well I’m glad that she forced your hand, I’ve been wanting to run into you again.” Dani rolled her eyes again, this woman was obviously not subtle about her motives. 

Dani knew Bright was an attractive man, pair that with the fact that he had millions to his name he would be a catch to most women, she just assumed that he kept to himself because of who he was and of course he didn’t exactly scream fuck boi bro. But She also knew that he could be incredibly charming when he wanted to be, that every time they walked down the street to get back to the precinct or to grab a coffee or tea women would appreciate his style, his features, the fact that he was both welcoming yet dangerous. 

Most of the time she didn’t think about it because she had his full undivided attention, even if he excitedly bumped into someone he’d quickly apologize and turn back to her. She didn’t realize that his attention being occupied by someone who very obviously knew him, and there was a hint of something more would make her feel...uneasy. 

She cleared her throat, to which Malcolm instantly looked in her direction and locked eyes. Shit, she forgot that he could hear her too. She pulled her brows together and scratched the back of her ear, looking away. It was JT who intervened and she decided she owed JT lunch.

“Damn, who knew Bright had game.”

This time Gil cleared his throat from where he was standing with Jessica on the other side of the room. To which JT whispered a “Sorry boss.”

Dani hid her smile behind her hand, as she pretended not to watch him and his yet to be named brunette. She didn’t know why but the way he chuckled and the way her hand reached out to brush the lapel of his jacket just annoyed Dani. Apparently personal space wasn’t a thing for this woman. 

“How is your father doing these days, Alice?” Malcolm asked focusing the subject back to small talk, the kind he detested but what could be done. 

Ah so her name was Alice, Dani scanned the room but really her eyes were focused on the profiler, what was the point of this exchange anyway, they were here to do a job, not to flirt and catch up. She didn’t know where her attitude was coming from and that added to her annoyance.

Alice shifted uncomfortable and shrugged as she pushed some of her hair behind her shoulder, “You know the usual, making sure to control every aspect of my life. He wants me to get married and settle down, I’m not good enough for the family business but I certainly can help it with an advantageous union.”

Dani just scoffed which earned her another look from Malcolm but there was something in his smile as he turned towards Alice. “How very antiquated of him, I’m sure he sees that your charms could be put to better use.”

Alice beamed at him again, eyes hooded as she took a step closer, “that’s for sure, you want to revisit how charming I can be?” She whispered close to his ear.

Malcolm smiled but his eyes were on the stand out beauty in orange across the room. He was enjoying Dani’s very apparent uneasiness in his re-acquaintance with Alice. Alice had gone to the same boarding school as him. While most kids didn’t bother with him after his father, Alice like Vijay was willing to be his friend.

“I know you can be...charming, but better be on my best behavior tonight.” Malcolm said as he took a step back from her. Alice can also be very pushy as he recalled. 

Alice just chuckled, “You have to admit, we used to have a lot of fun. Sure you don’t want to just disappear for a bit, this party is a bummer anyway...”

Dani’s mind instantly wandered to his ‘I’ve had sex, plenty of sex’ and even then she was a bit uncomfortable by his confession, now she was very uncomfortable by this whole exchange. Did this woman have no boundaries? The man said no, just leave it alone and have some self respect.

JT chimed in again, “Well damn bro…again who knew you had this much game!”

“Don't take game, if it’s being practically thrown at you,” she found herself mumbling before she realized what she was saying, to which she heard JT snicker. 

“Savage Dani…”

She cleared her throat, “can we focus on the task at hand instead of Bright’s sex life.” It was as if she lost all control of herself as she walked over to the bar, making sure that there was an extra sway to her hip when she approached them.

“Hi,” she found herself say as she stood beside Malcolm, looking innocently between Malcolm and Alice. 

Malcolm caught off guard only for a second smiled and introduced her to Alice, since she wanted to play this game, he figured why not. He didn’t much enjoy these things but this would be the exception if he could rile Dani up just a bit. “Alice, this is Dani.” He said as his hand seamlessly wrapped around Dani’s small waist, the dress she wore left both little and a lot to the imagination. He could feel the warmth of her body through the silk. 

Dani’s heart thumped, as she fell into her role, “Alice, very nice to meet you.”

Alice eyed Dani up and down and then finally she smiled, “Ah so this is the reason you are on your best behavior.” Alice didn't seem to care for decorum in this situation, behaving like a true spoiled heiress, Dani thought, this kind of behavior in the Bronx would not be tolerated even if you were a strong independent woman. 

Dani narrowed her eyes then smiled, really she felt like she had no control over her actions because the next thing she knew she was saying, “only until we get home.”

Malcolm’s eyes widened slightly as he cleared his throat, “Alice you’ll have to excuse us, I see my mother and I know she was asking for Dani earlier.”

Alice’s red lips curved up as she nodded, “well what do you know Malcolm Whitly is officially off the market, many a heart will be broken to know this. Nice meeting you Danielle.” She said as she walked away. 

Dani’s hands fisted at her side, no one called her Danielle. When she felt the gentle squeeze of his fingers on her waist as he released her, Dani suddenly came to herself. She closed her eyes and waited and on que, JT was laughing in her ear. 

“Well that’s one way to take care of that.” Gil said as he watched the whole exchange. Jessica on the other hand seemed to have enjoyed the show very much, even if she couldn’t hear anything, she got the gist of the situation. There was something so very normal and charming about women bickering over her handsome son.

Dani cleared her throat and scrunched her face, “sorry, thought this would make the point.”

Malcolm licked his lips and squinted at her, “what was the point again?” He wasn’t sure before but now he could clearly see it...she was jealous...to some extent anyway.

Dani pressed her lips together, and drew her brows in, WHAT was the point? Why was she in his business anyway. But to save face she simply shrugged, “to get back to work, you know look for the killers.” She rolled her eyes as if to say ‘duh’ but internally she was screaming with embarrassment, this is not how she behaved normally. She blamed Malcolm Bright for this.

Malcolm bit his lip to keep from laughing, he honestly was enjoying this too much, and her annoyance making his heart leap with joy, because that meant she was jealous. Something about Dani being jealous for him even if it was irrational and primitive made him feel...good. It brought to their relationship another layer, it gave him...hope.

[crossoversfics]

Boy Genius (Chapter 3)

(Spencer Reid x Malcolm Bright)

He had seen them arrive and when JT went over to greet the FBI agents Malcolm stayed put. Making nice with the agency just wasn’t on his to do list today. That did not, however, mean he hadn’t begun to profile their new coworkers the moment they showed up. It was less than a minute before JT was calling him over, but it was enough.

Malcolm turned and walked over to them, making sure to keep his micro expressions in check. In a matter of seconds he would learn whether these agents knew about him or not, and he wasn’t looking forward to it.

JT introduced him, “Agents this is Malcolm Bright, NYPD profiler. Bright this is-.”

“Agent Morgan,” Malcolm stuck out his hand, and Morgan shook it firmly, “And Dr. Reid”. He did not extend his hand to the doctor, but nodded instead, to which the doctor replied with a small smile.

A sideways glance told him JT was confused, he sighed, “Detective, I’m not deaf, I heard your conversation when they arrived.” 

The response was a massive eye roll from JT and a chuckle from Agent Morgan. So far so good. Neither of the agents had seem startled by his presence. 

“All right, smart ass,” JT grunted, “Let’s get to work then.”

He led both agents over to the dump site with Malcolm following just behind. 

“Both bodies were found lying in this hallway. It had been closed due to construction so that’s why the bodies hadn’t been found before we were called.” JT explained.

“Did the Unsub leave anything behind? Footprints, fingerprints, DNA?” Agent Morgan crouched looking up and down the hallway.

“Nothing that we have identified yet. What did you mean by Unsub?” JT inquired folding his arms.

“It means Unidentified Subject of the Investigation.” Dr. Reid said absently as he walked down the hall a bit, “Have we gotten anything from the CCTV footage?”

JT shook his head ruefully, “There was no footage. The techs said that the cameras had been disabled just before the phone call came into the station.”

Agent Morgan stood, “Surprise surprise, but all the same we should have it sent to our tech analyst Garcia. She might be able to make something of it.” He put his hands on his hips, “This hallway is a dead end, so the only way he could have dumped the bodies here was through the entrance we just came through. There would have been too many people.” He stopped and called out to Dr. Reid who had wandered down the hallway, “Hey, kid what’s going on in that big brain of yours?”

“Just a hunch.” The doctor replied.

“If you’re looking for the trapdoor it’s not above you,” Malcolm spoke after watching them for awhile. He made his way down the hall and gestured to the large tile squares beneath them, “Its below.” 

He knelt down and ran his finger above the cracked sealant around one of the squares, “I haven’t pulled it up yet because the forensic team needs to go over it but I’m sure this is how he got in.”

“He most likely made the phone call from here too and then he could reconnect the cameras and watch us find the bodies.” Reid surmised looking down at him.

Malcolm nodded, “That was my thought as well.” He turned to JT and Morgan, “He spent a long time planning this.”

Neither of them replied. Malcolm swiveled back to Dr. Reid who was looking at him intently.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” 

Malcolm felt his temperature rising, but the very next second he willed himself to remain completely calm, “I can’t say I’ve had the pleasure, doctor.”

Reid nodded slowly, his mouth slightly agape, “Yeah, sorry must just be my brain mixing you up with someone else.”

Malcolm forced himself to smile, “Not a problem.” He brought himself to a standing position and shoved his right hand in his pocket, “Is there anything else either of you would like to see?”

Agent Morgan shook his head, “I think we’re good for now, how about you, kid?”

“Yeah, all good here.” The doctor replied still glancing at Malcolm.

“All right then we’ll meet you guys back at the station.” JT said to Agent Morgan.

“Sounds good.” He replied.

                                                                  ~

Reid finished rereading the last of the case files they had on Dr. Arthur, and glanced at his watch. It had taken him thirty minutes and forty-six seconds which was a lot longer than it normally took him. His gaze drifted to the same thing it had been ever since they had arrived at the station. Or rather the same person. 

“This is Malcolm Bright, NYPD profiler.” 

Bright was sitting across from him going through his own stack of case files, seemingly absorbed in his work. Reid wasn’t sure what it was that bothered him about the man, but there was something, off. At first, he’d thought it was some sort of vanity on his part. It was overtly apparent that Bright was the NYPD’s darker, more worldly version of Reid. The way he read a crime scene without much more than a glance spoke of immense talent and he was clearly intelligent, probably more than he let on. 

The more he thought about it, however, the more he didn’t think it could be all excused away by something as petty as jealousy. The one thing he was sure of, Bright did not care for the FBI. Reid had watched Bright bristle in a conversation with Rossi over why he hadn’t applied at the BAU. It was the smallest clench of his right fist that gave it away. There was something there...

“Dr. Reid?” 

A voice floated past him and then echoed in his head as he realized someone was talking to him.

“Yes, sorry.” Reid blinked and his eyes focused in on Bright’s questioning expression.

“No problem. I just wasn’t sure you heard Dani say they got ID’s on the two victims.” Bright handed him another file.

“I did not, thank you.” Reid took the folder and opened it. Time to focus, he chastised himself. After he finished, he looked up to see see Bright eyeing him with a raised eyebrow.

“I’ve never actually met someone with an eidetic memory before. I’d imagine it would be very useful.” 

Reid smiled slightly, “Yes, along with its fair share of drawbacks, and the statistics for an adult having an eidetic memory are-”

“Less than one percent,” Bright finished for him. 

Reid pressed his lips together and nodded. He didn’t try to contain his surprise that Bright knew the statistics, instead he moved back to the case.

“Speaking of memory, all of the victims have a lot of background in research or the study of memories. All of them were highly educated, successful, and popular.” A thought struck him, “You know, early on in this case we theorized that Dr. Arthur wasn’t his actual name and that he was most likely not from the same pedigree as his victims.”

Bright nodded while he massaged his right hand, “That could lead to a couple of possibilities. He could have been undereducated or poor and he resents those of a higher social, educational, or economic status than him. The problem with that theory is all of these victims seem, specific. They don’t read like targets of opportunity.”

Reid agreed, “So he must stalk them then. In all cases, the victims weren’t missed for several days and that takes extensive planning.”

“Yes, but why?” Bright stood up and inspected the board, “There’s no criminal history, no dirty laundry in the families, and none of them are involved in any type of ground-breaking research or controversial studies. The last two, Tate Medford and Juan Santos, were still working on their PhD’s.”

Reid tapped his finger on the table as he thought, “The torture clearly makes him a sadist, and we established that he is a pyromaniac just based on his obsession with fire and explosions.”

“So its safe to say he was probably abused, probably by a male figure, a father maybe. I’d say an intelligent one too.” Bright mused.

“What makes you say that?” 

Reid glanced over his shoulder and saw that Hotch, Lieutenant Gil, Detective Powell, and JJ had come in. It was JJ that had asked the question.

Bright was now facing them too, “Well, just based on the victims he chooses. They all scored in the thirty’s on the ACT or over 1100 on the SAT, they all went to Ivy league schools or were enrolled in one, salutatorians, valedictorians, debate team champs, editors of the school papers, top athletes, they had scholarships, and I could go on and on and on. It looks like he is obsessed with what society deems intelligent or smart.”  

Reid licked his lips, “I agree. It all points to him being angry or at the very least needing a substitute for someone in his life that was very smart.”

“Well why does he need two of them then?” Detective Powell asked with a frown, “and then why does he just go bomb random buildings?”

“That’s the part that just doesn’t make any sense.” JJ replied, “You would think that if it was intelligence he was targeting then he would be bombing schools and museums, but its just old warehouses or apartments.”

The Lieutenant sighed, “I’d say there is a whole lot more that doesn’t make sense besides all that.”

A phone went off and everyone turned to look for the source of the sound. It seemed to be coming from Bright.

He pulled out his device, glanced at the screen, and frowned, “Sorry, I have to take this.” 

Reid noted a look that passed between Lieutenant Arroyo and Bright before he left the room but it was gone as quick as it appeared. 

Hotch sat down in a chair next to Reid, “A bomb will be going off without warning any time now. If we want a chance at stopping it we need to complete this profile so the police know what they are looking for.”

Everyone nodded and got to work. As he started reading the file on the two new victims again he realized that the uncomfortable feeling he had about Bright had temporarily disappeared but that phone call had brought it back. He needed to know why.    

[norgestan]

The point you raised about Dani's characterization in your tag rant is SO spot on, because prior to the season, Dani's actor talked a couple times about how he's just a regular dude who we're going to see be "clumsy," so it's like... The team as a whole thinks this comment was just "clumsy" and Dani is still a regular dude. They don't think one of the love interests made a highkey racist comment in clip 3 when his character is still being set up. [1/2].

And westzane's post about the comment playing off as much lighter than it actually was is spot on, as well. Like I think for most people it hasn't dawned how jarring the comment was because the overall tone of the clip didn't play it off as highkey racist, but an off color joke. I agree with what you said about Alejandro waking up in Nora's bed and I think it might be too late for eskam to walk this back properly tbh. The "joke" should've been about a much lighter topic [2/2]

(i’ll quickly tag @westzane since this is their ask we’re talking about, in case they wanna look at this or even spare some thoughts!)

yeah! what is the most frustrating about this clip is that setting up dani through amira’s eyes (literally his first clip with her!) with such a strong moment like him making a jarring islamophobic remark about one of the kids he’s teaching to, could have been a great moment for them to talk about what this actually means. but because of what the season already established in other clips (pretty much everything about the girl/boy squad part of clip 1, clip 2 where dunia calls out a dude who throws an islamophobic pick-up line at her) we know that’s not the direction they will take. little things like tweaking her reaction so she looks disappointed/uncomfortable after he turns around, or maybe having the kid overhear him so they show his reaction, could’ve been great to start that thread. but as i said on the tags, i think they don’t have the range nor the time to tackle that subject.

and what’s worse (i’ve been reading your recent asks so you’ll be familiar with this) is that it’s such a normalized moment? hearing it immediately put me back on real life situations where i’ve been phased with people making those kinds of racist/islamophobic/queerphobic comments, but it’s become such a normal thing to me that i never stopped to think what it means for a person in a position of power over muslim kids. like this is the first time where i’ve really thought about those implications. it’s even worse when you think about how this was meant to be an adaption of the fact that yousef really likes kids and wants to have almost a dozen children to play football with them... like, is this what we will get instead? and do i have to be happy that he’s at least not making those comments directly at the kids, but whispering them to his muslim friend? yikes.

other comments like eva making a joke about everything being a botellón after amira talks about what the association means to her are much more effective imo, so they could’ve gone that route for dani’s microaggressions. it’s really infuriating because as you said, it’s so obvious that they’re going for the clumsy white guy route when this points at a much bigger issue, and this comment will be brushed off as one more thing in the sea of microaggresions that amira will get. i don’t doubt there will be a time where he’s confronted about his casual islamophobia but there’s like a 99% chance that they will ignore the context which this was said on and that’s the most frustrating part.

[welanabananaworld]

Ouija, Origin of Evil and the profane voice - Part I

Though extremely shocking and disturbing, children happen to be at the core of major horror films. Samara in The Ring (2002), Dalton in Insidious (2010), Dany and the Grady twins in The Shining (1980), the children in Sinister (2012), Thomas in The Orphanage (2007) are among many other examples that prove the existence of an entire branch of horror cinema built on the mythology of the malevolent child. Why is the figure of the child so prevalent? Why should the most innocent and purest human beings be the main characters of films that are  gruesome, violent and whose public age is strictly restricted? Precisely because their vulnerability and purity of soul make them easily influenced and manipulated by external forces. Besides, children are known to have an overwhelming imagination and a propensity to trust which are necessary to open the boundaries between the worlds of the living and the dead in accordance with the codes of the genre. 

In addition to this, the more the prey is opposite to our expectations and subverts our beliefs of what is proper and what is not, the more the fright and fascination are potent. To consider a child as a monster, a killer or a possessed body is beyond our general understanding, hence the uncanny appeal of creepy children. 

As pointed out by Alison Nastasi in her article published online on Hopes&Fears, this devious appeal for corrupted and murderous children portrayed in horror films might echo to « real-world fears about parenting, gender and social responsibility. »; a theory supported by Joe Dante’s comments about the subject : « Could it be connected to the fact that more and more parents have difficulty balancing work responsibilities [and] child-rearing (not to speak of nurturing their own relationships, personal and career aspirations) and are squeezed financially by the costs of raising children […]? Therefore, is it any wonder that children in genre movies are portrayed as powerful, disruptive, and uncontrollable? Perhaps these menacing moppet movies reflect the fears inherent in helicopter parenting—that the minute you take your eyes off your child, something dreadful will happen. » In any case, the films in question use the creepy kid trope in order to suggest that something is wrong, that the natural order of things is being shattered. 

The corruption of innocence can take many forms but the most interesting one to study in relation to the narrative role of the voice in cinema is the threat of an invasion from the Beyond. In Ouija: Origin of Evil (2016), supernatural forces hold a young girl hostage by inhabiting her body and making it go through such transformations (vocal and physical) as to change it beyond recognition.

Taking place in 1967 in Los Angeles, Ouija: Origin of Evil tells the story of the Danzer family. Alice, a spiritual medium, is striving to make ends meet after the loss of her husband and father of her two children by hosting readings in her own house with the help of her daughters, Lina (15) and Doris (9). Running a declining scam business, in which Alice pretends to talk to the dead to bring closure to people and the girls help her out with tricks intended to make it all real, Lina suggests her mother to add a ouija board as a new prop to modernise her readings. The factitious dimension of the ritual which unfolds through the display of ingenious devices (stretchable table, a cupboard big enough to hide Doris, extinguishable candles…) is both an ironical comment on how fake spiritism is going to beat the family at their own game by revealing its true power and also a cleverly designed introduction to set the tone and build the tension. 

All the ingredients are here to turn the ouija experience into a nightmare. The bereaved family is craving for a contact whatsoever with their loved one, little Doris first. She wishes she could talk to her father at a seance like other people do when they come and see her mother for help, that is why she does not talk to god directly but instead send prayers to her dad every night before going to bed. Contrary to Lina who is a teenager in complete denial and pushes down her feelings, Alice and Doris seek communication and are open to it, hence the evil befalling on them. 

Portrayed as an angelic but lonely and bullied girl who is deeply grieving her father and believes in the blurry frontiers between the worlds of the living and the dead, Doris becomes the perfect human and tangible vessel through which supernatural forces can express themselves. All starts with the introduction of the ouija board as a prop into the house and with Alice breaking the three rules which are to never play alone, in a graveyard and never forget to say goodbye. At this very moment, Doris becomes inhabited by Marcus’s spirit whose identity is yet to be defined. How does this possession first transpire? Through speaking. Marcus uses Doris’s voice to start materializing and, as soon as she touches the board, the voices appear all around her, thus enabling the world of the Beyond to let in. 

Doris is progressively attracted by the ouija board which makes her believe she is talking to her father, Roger. They are deceitful spirits who do everything to earn her trust to better trap her, hence the hint at the money buried in the cellar. Contrary to Lina who is far from being fooled, Alice thinks her youngest child is gifted and asks her for help. As the readings follow one another, the trap is closing in around Doris who starts feeling pain in her neck at the same time she excels in the occult. She can now reproduce the voice of the deceased summoned during the seance. 

Once she is fully possessed, Doris first goes through a radical physical and behavior transformation by becoming lethargic, stolid, her eyes often turned white when no one is watching her. Besides, her vocal abilities also go through creepy changes. In addition to mimic the deceased’s voice during the readings, adults’ voices, Doris keeps whispering in people’s ears in a demonic way when the evil entity starts spreading its malevolent influence on the whole family. 

When the film reaches its climax and Doris fully assumes the devil’s voice, which is guttural, otherworldly and distorted by hatred, she no longer is a young innocent child. Marcus’s spirit corrupts and perverts Doris to achieve revenge by desecrating her body and soul and making her utter bloodcurdling things. The scene which most epitomizes the figure of the violated child is when Doris explains step by step to Lina’s boyfriend how it feels like to be strangled to death. The most uncomfortable thing about it is to witness the contrast between what she says and the sweet voice in which she says it with an angelic smile on her face. The mise-en-scène that keeps stressing Doris’s vocal changes, by shooting her facing the camera (or the fourth wall) as if she was already part of the Beyond, is meant to emphasize the element through which she is channelling these powers and forces : the mouth.

The mouth as an organic element  stands as a kind of leitmotiv throughout the film inasmuch as the possession of Doris’s body and soul by the demonic entity is made complete through that means. One night, Doris is awakened by her pain in the neck and gets assaulted by a dark creature who thrusts his devilish arm into her throat. This shadowy creature, one can notice, has no mouth or rather a distorted sewed one, similar to Lina’s mouth when she looks at herself in the mirror one night. At the light of these elements, what was supposed to be a nightmare was in fact real and prophetic.

But what can be the meaning of the recurring imagery of the sealed mouth (see  also Lina’s doll)? Who is Marcus? Why is he portrayed as an evil spirit? What does he want from Doris and her family? He clearly states his purpose when trying to possess Lina’s soul : to snatch her voice.

Father Tom Hogan, a friend of the family, is the one who uncovers the ugly truth behind Doris’s pretended benevolent gift of clairvoyance. She is not channelling good forces but Marcus’s spirit, a man who happened to have been mutilated and murdered in this house a few decades ago. After the second world war, a twisted nazi doctor, called the devil’s doctor in the camps, escaped to America where he succeeded to get hired in a mental institution. He went on practicing his sadistic experiments on patients in the basement of his house. In order to do it, he cut out their tongues, severed their vocal cords and sewed their mouths so that no one could hear them from above. However, Marcus’s story does not end with his death. Violently murdered, he never rested in peace but instead was doomed to wander in the cold darkness of the underworld among other desperate, voiceless souls and malevolent creatures who must have been summoned by the doctor who was into the occult. 

In the end, Marcus, who has been silenced by force, deprived of his own voice and overtaken by the surrounding evil influence in the Beyond, seeks revenge against god and people who have the ability to express themselves, eaten away as he is by hatred, frustration and pain. The only way for him to exorcise the horrible things he has been through is to communicate and hurt others, but for that a voice and a body are needed, hence his attempts to snatch the family’s voices. That is the only way to be heard and to have an influence outside his doomed world. Helped by her father’s good spirit, Lina grabs needle and thread and silences her sister for ever,  thus fighting hard against the entity who strives to engulf her.

Ouija, Origin of Evil, like many other horror films, uses the voice and its communicative powers as narrative tools to address issues and challenge notions such as grief, loss, family unity, parenting, revenge, alternative beliefs, suffering, innocence, corruption, violation and religion. Religion…such a crucial theme whose set of practices and beliefs makes it the most cherished subject of the genre. Any idea which emblematic film is yet to be analyzed in the perspective of the profane voice and corruption of innocence?

[vampiresuns]

Like Real People Do | J. C. Sanlaurento x Saoirse

2.5k words. After reaching a safe port, Jules and Saoirse spend a day away from the crew.

Part 3 of Secrets Of An Ancient Moon series; you can read the rest of it here.

As always, Saoirse, my spouse, belongs to @apprenticealec​. I know I’m the one writing them, but honestly I have to make a pause to give Dani a shoutout: all of the work and characterisation for Saoirse is something I am able to capture because of all the work that Dani herself has put behind her character, and I can only be grateful for be trusted with it. All of of the musings I write for Saoirse are a ‘novelisation’ of things Dani herself has shared with me.

CW for Saoirse being a maniac who’s indifferent to wet socks, and a lot of existential talks, but that’s normal for void-gendered Sartre and Beauvoir.

Of course, the title comes from Hozier.

Personhood was a peculiar thing. People were peculiar things. Up to this point, Saoirse had thought they had the whole deal with human nature more or less pinned down — after all, they had been around long enough to observe humans plenty. Still, the conversation they had had some weeks ago with Julianus in the Ruby’s kitchen was still playing in the back of their mind. 

Because it’s your language, Saoirse.

None of us come with instructions about how to be a person.

They wondered what Niamh would have to say about it, but their last conversation back in Ethari, when Saoirse had done something as human as it got: visit a place that was both tomb and crib, told them she would not be surprised by this turn of events. She was the one who had said Saoirse had changed. Personhood was something Saoirse thought they only observed in others, not something they participated in. Julianus, wonderful and fascinating Julianus, had a different opinion.

When Saoirse had begun teaching them about the code and the language it was written in, they knew Jules would come with a number of legal and juridical backgrounds that they’d be able to tie into the code. According to them by writing themselves into the code, they had given themselves personhood.

“You use very ‘free-willed’ language to explain yourself. You incorporate into societies, you helped create one, which is a very human thing to do. I’ve told you what I think of human nature, haven’t I?” They had said some days ago, when they were brushing on that part of the code. 

“No,” Saoirse replied with a soft smile, “care to tell me?” Saoirse knew this would mess with their schedule, they had agreed on starting around the language but that Saoirse would explain the contents of the code, and Jules would take notes (they took a lot of notes, in general), but Saoirse found themself not caring. 

Time was a scarce thing with humans, but they were so prone to wasting it on things which they somehow found a way to justify in terms of importance. 

“There is no such thing as human nature, Saoirse. There’s nothing that’s inherent to humanity except gregariousness and the wish to be transcendent to contrarrest our own mortality, and truth be told I don’t think those two are different things. Nature is what you nurture, and you helped create this, you use words like ‘I was contracted’ and that’s such a human way to explain it.”

They paused. “I’m not offending you, am I?”

“No, it is different, that’s all.”

Of course, none of the conclusions Saoirse was coming to were conclusions they shared out loud. If Jules had other opinions on the subject, they kept them to themself, except for one and perhaps they only one which mattered.

Back then, Saoirse had placed their hand on Jules back and they carried on. Now, as they discussed with Meredith stopping for a few days in a safe port, it all dawned to them with an absurd clarity. 

Thinking about oneself was too very human, wasn’t it? Of course, humans weren’t the only ones who did so, Saoirse would know, but humans were the only ones whose opinions changed, whose natures changed with it. Gods did not change, and in many ways, Saoirse had not; at the same time, they had spent so long studying humanity they absorbed it in their own way. Sometimes it was knowingly, others unknowingly, and regardless of which Saoirse never understood why.

They couldn’t understand why now either, but they understood that they did not understand. Laughing seemed the obvious conclusion. 

Meredith looked at them with worry for a snap, then like they were crazy, and at last she rolled her eyes. She didn’t ask, she didn’t have to; Saoirse didn’t tell, they didn’t know if they could explain it, so they went back to the topic at hand: safe port. Out of all the things making it a safe port meant, the one which interested Saoirse the most in that moment was that they could wander off enough without having to worry about the Queen’s safety. It meant they’d get to spend time with Jules whatever way they wanted, and they thought they knew exactly where to take them. 

When they made it to the port, Saoirse found them petting Marcius. At first, Jules’ cat hadn’t much liked Saoirse. They spooked him, but now, slowly, he had begun to let himself have his head scratched… sometimes. 

“We’ll be two days here.”

Jules nodded.

“How will you be spending them?”

“Fucked if I know. Exploring, I think. I’ve never been here before. I’m sure there is a market someplace, or… wait, why are you asking me?”

“Because I’d like to take you somewhere, if you’d like to go with me.”

Over Marcius’ soft fur Jules stretched their hand to link their fingers with Saoirse, their cat starting to purr and Jules’ heart to beat like the wings of a frazzled bird; or perhaps, it wasn’t a bird it reassembled but thunder. Thunder roaring strong and steady and threatening to create a microcosm between them. 

Somewhere in the skies, a single thunder made itself heard, for no apparent reason.

“I’d love to,” Julianus replied. 

The only specification Saoirse gave them was to make sure they had something they could swim in — something they had said like they were making the conscious effort to not forget about it. Jules looked at them both baffled and amused, but asked no questions. They liked surprises, when they were controlled. 

So the following day, after leaving Marcius safely inside Saoirse’s quarters with some food, water and some toys, Julianus found themself hiking up the beach with the Quartermaster, from the sand, through a rocky area until they reached a series of natural tide pools between the rocks. The water was turquoise and mint green against the rocks, the bottom of them visible, even though they were still deep enough to swim in. They had been talking as they made their way, but Julianus fell silent upon seeing them, a gasp escaping their lips at last, as giddiness overtook them. 

“Saoirse, they’re beautiful.” 

“Like you.”

“What?”

“I’m glad you like them.”

Jules narrowed their eyes at them, pettiness oozing from them. “Well, I think the water of that one over there matches your eyes.”

Saoirse only laughed. “There’s a grotto there, it’s not too big, but it doesn’t get wet, so it’s a good place to leave your things. I assume you don't want your bag to get wet.”

“No, I would not like that.”

They settled by it, enough shadow and sun for both of them to choose where they wanted to sit. The water glimmered under the sun, and the soft breeze carried some of the sea foam to their faces, the sound of the crashing waves on a tranquil sea day the only sound to accompany their voices as they talked; or not talked, the waves becoming their personal orchestra as they shared comfortable silences. 

Eventually Saoirse stood up, making their way to the water, dipping a leg with their pants, socks and shoes on without batting an eyelash. 

“What are you doing?”

“You go swimming clothed, do you not?”

“It depends, skinny dipping is a thing… but we don’t throw ourselves into the water with that many clothes on. Especially not with shoes, or socks, if you’re wearing those.”

“Why not?”

“Because there’s nothing more uncomfortable than a wet sock?”

Saoirse stared back at them blankly. 

“Of course you don’t think wet socks are uncomfortable,” Jules said with an affectionate eye roll before stripping down to their swimming clothes. A single pair of high-waisted, high-cut, black briefs.

Jules folded their clothes quickly but neatly, and Saoirse looked. Their eyes took in both the whole process and Julianus themself. The shape of the legs, the curve of the hip, the pinch of the waist, the exposed flat chest with healed, periareolar scars that shot like small sun rays on their skin. They lifted their hair to re-tie it in a carelessly done bun, Saoirse’s eyes stopping in the tattoo that read ‘être libre’ on their skin.

“To be free?” They asked, still staring, but now out of the water, shoe and sockless only on one foot, as both items left to dry away from the water. 

“Oh, you mean this? Yeah, that’s what it means. Got it, huh, three years ago? Give or take? It’s six months older than the scars.”

“Does it have a reason to be? I know sometimes you get those with meaning.”

Under the sun, Saoirse’s hair looked like a halo. “Depends on how you want to see it. It’s from one of my favourite books. One of the characters asks, rhetorically most likely, a group of revolutionary students he frequented if there was something greater than a specific political ruler, a military conqueror, an emperor truly, but those are often the same thing; and another character replies ‘to be free’, être libre.”

They came closer, sitting next to Saoirse, who traced the letters with their fingers. 

“Is that why you travel?”

“Is that why you do too?”

“You have an interesting way to look at things.”

“You always say that.”

“Maybe I do because it’s a compliment.” 

Jules gave them a sly look from their side-eye, tucking a loose strand of hair behind their ear. They smiled too, not before licking their lips. It was, of course, on purpose.

“Should I take the proclivity with which your hands find my ribs as a compliment too?”

“I like the rhythm of your breaths. Sometimes you forget to do them, so you stop until you remind yourself you have to.” 

“By-product,” they joked.

“Of?”

“Life.”

“Personhood is a muscle, muscles get cramps, don’t they?”

“You can’t use my words against me.”

“Who said I’m talking about you?” 

“What about then?”

The sun had made Jules’ skin warmer than usual, Saoirse noted as their other hand settled on their knee. They turned towards them a little more, facing the full weight of Saoirse’s staring now. In truth, Saoirse was always staring, always observing, and Julianus had become a permanent feature in their mental inventory, in their peripheral vision, in those little things which reminded them how far away they were from humans, and how close at the same time. More alike them than Saoirse ever suspected they would become, they marvelled at all the things Julianus had come to unbury from crevices and spaces inside Saoirse they didn’t even know they had. 

Saoirse pried their hand away from their ribs, softly settling against Jules’ jaw, cupping it. The hair strand they had tucked behind their ear went loose again, it’s feathery softness tickling Saoirse’s skin. It was a new, yet welcome sensation. 

“Do you still want to swim?” Julianus asked, their voice hushed, the act of speech itself a secret to be shared with Saoirse.

“We have all day,” Saoirse said, finding themselves mimicking the tone used by Julianus, only in their case it was out of wonder. Out of a sense of ongoing curiosity at Jules themself, at their own state of being right now.

Something nebulous had formed inside them for weeks, something that was too akin the same voluntary, chosen will to protect they tended to have for the Pirate Queen, only for entirely different reasons. It was as if someone had undug them from the ice they one inhabited all over again, but this time to offer no deals, no strategies. Jules came with conversations and butterflies they made appear out of nowhere, to teach them (or remind them, Saoirse didn’t know) contracts and acquired self-determination weren’t the only thing which freed. 

“You’re so fascinating.” 

Julianus leaned against the hand cupping their jaw, turning their head to kiss their wrist. 

“If you come closer I can give you one of those too.” 

Saoirse didn’t need to be told twice. Using the hand they were cupping their jaw with to pull them closer, Jules’ hands landed on Saoirse’s upper thighs as their lips met. Plush and warm, Jules lips traced Saoirse’s softly at first, a careful exploration that gave way to exchanged pecks — as if they were trying to make up their minds about the duration of the kiss but couldn’t, or didn’t want to just yet. 

Jules opened their eyes to meet Saoirse’s, those ice blue eyes which never seemed to leave them. The choice was easy, really, when Saoirse’s open gaze met them like that, a wide, yet still not-very-open smile on their lips: Jules had to kiss them again. 

“How long have you been wanting to do that?” Jules asked, cheeky, when they finally pulled apart. 

“Probably since the kitchen talk.” 

“Huh, okay.”

“You were not expecting that answer?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Bad unexpected?”

“Too good unexpected.” 

Saoirse snorted. 

“Hey, not everyday you find a gorgeous, interesting, surprisingly attentive eldritch deity pining after you. I feel very much like the most powerful human in the world, even though I wield no earthly powers, or have no door-opening family name — okay, maybe a little door-opening. We haven’t talked in a while, so I don’t know if I couldn’t any more.”

Saoirse kissed their knuckles, finding themselves wanting to do it. They’ve seen many people do it, they’ve read about people doing it, now they wanted to do it too. “Means I have more of your company… I never told you who I am exactly, though.”

“You said ‘who’,” Jules smiled, “and you didn’t. I do not know if I seem like it, I do not think I am especially so, or at least not more than others, but I am smart enough. Or I hope I am, at least. One can be many things, however, but that’s beyond the topic.” 

Saoirse now took out their other shoe and sock, rolling their pants up enough so they could dip their legs at the edge of the tide pool. “Perhaps I should throw you into the water, for humbleness.” 

“If you pull me into the water, I’m pulling you with me.”

“I’m heavier than I look.”

“I’ll try anyway.” 

The truth was Saoirse let Julianus pull them into it. It was easy to let them when they got to be so close in the process. There were no obligations, no lessons, no shooting, no chores, no anything to distract them from each other, the water and their lips. At some point, Saoirse ended up ditching their shirt too, teasing Jules just a little for staring when they did, even if they knew they had no grounds to make any comments on the subject, not when they knew they spent a fair amount of time looking at Jules for the sake of it. 

Some other time Julianus would make the comparison with some story they had read about, or seen acted out, where desire was masked to be unmasked in private, as if it was something people too couldn’t directly look at, not completely, not at once. It would have to wait, as today they were too busy living, too busy with Saoirse, swimming and talking and making out in the sun until it was time to go back. 

“Can I hold your hand as we walk?” 

Saoirse’s reply was taking Jules’ hand in theirs, smiling softly at them as the sun began to close the distance between itself and the sea, the warm hues of sunset tinting both their blond heads.  

[aboveallarescuer]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

~

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

~

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

~

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

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

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

A Dance with Dragons

ADWD Daenerys X

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

Hizdahr, of the tepid kisses.

~

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

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

~

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

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

~

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

~

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

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

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

“To be a queen.”

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

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

ADWD Daenerys IX

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

~

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

~

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

And if I never march for Westeros?

~

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

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

~

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

Daenerys gave him a quizzical look. “Lions?”

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

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

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

Dany was not pleased. “I forbid it.”

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

ADWD Daenerys VIII

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

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

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

~

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

~

No queen has clean hands, Dany told herself. She thought of Doreah, of Quaro, of Eroeh … of a little girl she had never met, whose name had been Hazzea. Better a few should die in the pit than thousands at the gates. This is the price of peace, I pay it willingly. If I look back, I am lost.

~

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

~

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

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

~

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

~

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

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

~

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

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

“If it would please Your Grace.”

“Then come.”

~

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

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

~

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

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

ADWD Daenerys VII

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

Hizdahr will bring me peace. He must.

~

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

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

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

~

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

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

~

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

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

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

~

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

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

~

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

ADWD Daenerys VI

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

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

~

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

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

~

It was growing harder to find drivers willing to deliver the food as well. Too many of the men they had sent into the camp had been stricken by the flux themselves. Others had been attacked on the way back to the city. Yesterday a wagon had been overturned and two of her soldiers killed, so today the queen had determined that she would bring the food herself. Every one of her advisors had argued fervently against it, from Reznak and the Shavepate to Ser Barristan, but Daenerys would not be moved. “I will not turn away from them,” she said stubbornly. “A queen must know the sufferings of her people.”

~

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

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

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

~

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

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

~

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

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

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

~

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

“These ones live to serve you.”

~

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

~

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

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

~

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

~

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

ADWD Daenerys V

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

~

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

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

~

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

~

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

~

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

“Your Grace?” Ser Barristan prompted, gently.

A queen belongs not to herself but to her people.

“I need Hizdahr zo Loraq.”

ADWD Daenerys IV

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

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

~

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

~

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

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

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

~

Only then would her womb quicken once again …

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

~

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

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

~

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

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

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

~

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

“If that is your command, Your Grace.”

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

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

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

~

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

“If I knew who they were—”

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

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

“Your own subjects would gladly slaughter you.”

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

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

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

ADWD Daenerys III

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

~

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

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

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

~

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

~

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

~

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

~

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

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

~

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

~

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

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

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

~

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

~

Late that afternoon Admiral Groleo and Ser Barristan returned from their inspection of the galleys. Dany assembled her council to hear them. Grey Worm was there for the Unsullied, Skahaz mo Kandaq for the Brazen Beasts. In the absence of her bloodriders, a wizened jaqqa rhan called Rommo, squint-eyed and bowlegged, came to speak for her Dothraki. Her freedmen were represented by the captains of the three companies she had formed—Mollono Yos Dob of the Stalwart Shields, Symon Stripeback of the Free Brothers, Marselen of the Mother’s Men. Reznak mo Reznak hovered at the queen’s elbow, and Strong Belwas stood behind her with his huge arms crossed. Dany would not lack for counsel.

~

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

“Your Grace—”

“Magnificence—”

“Your Worship—”

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

~

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

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

“I cannot go.”

ADWD Daenerys II

“Who is that weeping?”

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

“My servant. I have no slaves.”

~

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

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

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

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

“Hostages,” said Skahaz, happily.

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

~

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

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

~

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

“… mother,” whispered Missandei.

“Mother to dragons.” Dany shivered.

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

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

~

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

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

~

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

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

~

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

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

~

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

~

What sort of mother lets her children rot in darkness?

~

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

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

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

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

~

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

ADWD Daenerys I

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

“He died for me.”

~

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

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

“A certain place? What do you mean?”

“A house of pleasure, Your Grace.”

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

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

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

“If it please Your Grace.”

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

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

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

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

~

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

~

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

~

“What was the name of the old weaver?”

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

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

~

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

~

“Some men have brought burnt bones.”

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

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

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

A Storm of Swords

ASOS Daenerys VI

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

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

“And you to me.”

~

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

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

~

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ASOS Daenerys V

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

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

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

~

“Strong Belwas needs liver and onions.”

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

~

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

“Defeated?” said Dany, bristling.

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

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

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

~

The grove of burnt olive trees in which she’d raised her pavilion stood beside the sea, between the Dothraki camp and that of the Unsullied. When the horses had been saddled, Dany and her companions set out along the shoreline, away from the city. Even so, she could feel Meereen at her back, mocking her. When she looked over one shoulder, there it stood, the afternoon sun blazing off the bronze harpy atop the Great Pyramid. Inside Meereen the slavers would soon be reclining in their fringed tokars to feast on lamb and olives, unborn puppies, honeyed dormice and other such delicacies, whilst outside her children went hungry. A sudden wild anger filled her. I will bring you down, she swore.

ASOS Daenerys IV

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

~

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

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

“This one will remember.”

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

~

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

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

~

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

~

“Our own losses?”

“A dozen. If that many.”

Only then did she allow herself to smile.

~

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

~

“Mhysa! Mhysa!”

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

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

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

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

ASOS Daenerys III

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

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

~

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

~

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

The girl told them. The answer was still no.


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


~

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

~

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

“And even that, they would do?”


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

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

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


“Tell me.”


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

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

~

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

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

~

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

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

“I remember,” Ser Jorah said.

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

“Some kings make themselves. Robert did.”
“He was no true king,” Dany said scornfully. “He did no justice. Justice ... that’s what kings are for.”

~

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

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

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

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

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

ASOS Daenerys II

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

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

~

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

“If it please your worship.”

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

~

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

~

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

~

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

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

~

“How many men do they have for sale?”

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

~

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

~

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

~

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

“I remember, Daenerys.”

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

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

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

ASOS Daenerys I

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

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


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

~

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

~

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

~

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

A Clash of Kings

ACOK Daenerys V

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

~

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

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

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

ACOK Daenerys III

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

~

“The Pureborn refused you?”

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

ACOK Daenerys II

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

But before she could do that she must conquer.

~

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

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

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

~

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

ACOK Daenerys I

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

~

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

~

Jhogo said they must leave her or bind her to her saddle, but Dany remembered a night on the Dothraki sea, when the Lysene girl had taught her secrets so that Drogo might love her more. She gave Doreah water from her own skin, cooled her brow with a damp cloth, and held her hand until she died, shivering. Only then would she permit the khalasar to press on.

A Game of Thrones

AGOT Daenerys X

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

AGOT Daenerys IX

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

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

“It was her fate, Khaleesi,” said Aggo.


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

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

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

AGOT Daenerys VIII

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

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

~

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

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

~

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

~

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

~

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

“Stop it!” Dany screamed.

~

“So you have saved me once more.”

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

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

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

~

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

~

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

~

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

AGOT Daenerys VII

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Khaleesi?” The knight sounded perplexed.


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

The warriors exchanged a baffled look.

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

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

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

“It is known,” her handmaid Irri echoed.

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

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

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

“Go with them,” she commanded Ser Jorah.

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

“Viserys?” She did not understand.

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

~

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

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


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

~

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

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

 AGOT Daenerys VI

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

AGOT Daenerys V

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

“He is your brother,” Ser Jorah acknowledged.

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

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

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

~

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

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

~

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

AGOT Daenerys IV

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

~

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

“Viserys hates horsemeat.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Viserys frowned suspiciously. “What is all this?”

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

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

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

“Next you’ll want to braid my hair.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[nothesc]

Friday night. A Damira fic.

Hi, here’s my take on what I would like to see on Friday’s clip with Dani’s friends. 

This is my take on Friday's clips, what I think/would like to see happening. I wanted to include a conversation between Amira and Dani about microagression and unfortunate comments. I hope it doesn't offend anyone, I've tried to do my best at putting myself on Amira's place but at the end of the day I'm not her and I don't have her experiences. Still, I hope you like it.

Summary: Amira is meeting Dani's friends on Friday and things don't turn out the way they expected. This leads to Dani and Amira having a conversation about unfortunate comments.

You can also read it on Ao3

----------------------------

“Are you alright?” Dani asks Amira for the 15th time since they entered the club fifteen minutes ago.

“Yes, Dani, I’m fine” Amira rolls her eyes but at the same time she smiles, Dani is very nervous and in some way it’s adorable. “Really, relax, everything will be alright”

“I’m just so excited for you to meet my friends, Ami. But at the same time I’m kind of scared you won’t like them.” Dani looks around trying to find his friends and, at the same time, trying to avoid Amira’s look. “I don’t even know if a club is the best place for you guys to meet but good luck telling my friends not to go out on a Friday”

“Well, look at that, they have something in common with my friends, then” Amira says laughing. She stands in front of Dani forcing him to look at her. “Seriously, Dani, don’t worry. Everything will be alright.”

Dani smiles at her thanking her for her words, he knows she really is trying to calm him down. Before he can say anything he sees a girl running to them. He immediately realizes that the girl is his friend, Patri, who hugs Dani as if they hadn’t seen each other for a year instead of just two weeks.

“Daniiiiiiiii! How are you? How are you doing? How’s your sister? I haven’t seen her in a while” Dani doesn’t even try to answer, he knows that once his friend starts talking it’ll take a while for him to be able to add something to the conversation. Patri looks at Amira and for a moment Dani panics, thinking that Patri might say something bad, but she only smiles at her. “Is this your girlfriend? Oh my god, I was so looking forward to meeting you. It was about time that our Dani got himself a girlfriend. Hi, how are you? I’m Patri. Nice to meet you. You’re Amira, right? Cris’ friend.”

Patri greets Amira with the traditional two kisses that Amira gives back with a smile. She’s only known Patri for like 30 seconds but she already likes her. There’s something in her that kind of reminds her of Viri.

“Nice to meet you” is all that Amira can say before Patri starts her monologue again.

“Dani is always talking about you, even before you started dating. He was like ‘I’m going out with Cris and Amira, I’m going to Zaorejas with Cris and her girlfriend, thank god Amira is coming too, I’m going to be the coach for Amira’s kid from the association, oh look Amira would like tha…’”

“Okay, okay, okay, enough, I think she got it. Thank you very much Patri” Dani interrupts her feeling how the heat reaches his cheeks and it’s not because they’re at a closed space.

“Awww, how cute” Amira teases him to which Dani rolls his eyes though he’s laughing too.

The moment is interrupted by the person that was missing, Rubén, that approaches the group apologizing for being late. If Dani was anxious about Patri, now that Rubén is here he’s holding his breath even though he doesn’t even realize. Rubén is not a bad guy, he’s a good friend mostly, but Dani has a bad feeling about him meeting his girlfriend.

Rubén, unaware of his friend’s worries greets Patri with two kisses, then he quickly hugs Dani patting his back and finally he approaches Amira to greet her with two kisses too. Amira, though, takes a step back avoiding Ruben’s touching. Dani curses himself for not having warned Rubén about this before.

“Fuck, girl, it’s not like I’m going to rape you, relax, I was only going to greet you like every other person.”

“Dude, stop, don’t be an asshole. If she doesn’t want to kiss you then she won’t and that’s it, alright?” Dani says defensively.

Amira, trying to avoid an even more uncomfortable situation places her hand on Dani’s arm, trying to get him to understand that it’s okay. Dani looks at her and searches her face for a hint that she’s uncomfortable and she wants to go, because the truth is that, if Amira tells him right now that she wants to leave, he won’t hesitate. However Amira shows him a sincere smile and Dani relaxes.

This doesn’t make the situation any more comfortable though, since the four of them stand there in silence for a few seconds. Dani thinks that now it’d be the right time for one of Patri’s monologues. His friends, as if she has read his mind, turns to Amira.

“Girl, I’m loving your pants. Well, I’m loving your whole outfit, you have such an amazing style. Let’s hope Dani learns something from you because it’s like he’s only allowed  to wear hoodies.”

“Hey!” Dani says half offended, half grateful for the change of subject “What’s wrong with my hoodies?”

Patri raises her eyebrows at him as if it isn’t necessary to explain to which Amira can’t help but laughing, far less uncomfortable than a few seconds ago.

“Hey, everybody, I’m going to go out to smoke, alright? Dani, are you coming?” Ruben says taking the package of cigarettes from his pocket and offering one to Dani.

“Nah, dude, I’m not in the mood, you go ahead and catch us later”.

Rubén only shrugs and leaves without saying anything else. When Dani looks back at the girls they’re still talking about clothes.

“Hey, I’m going to buy drinks, what do you want? First round is on me.” Dani offers them

“I want juice, please” Amira asks with a smile that Dani reciprocates and it’s not until Patri speaks that he looks away.

“Daniel, please, I’m offended you’re even asking, rum and coke for me.”

Dani nods and goes away to order. Once he’s paid for the three drinks he picks up the glasses and turns around, looking for Amira and Patri. He spots them and they’re still talking. From the way they’re smiling it looks like they’re really getting along. Dani feels a mix of pride and happiness in his chest. He’s kind of unsure if he should interrupt them but the glasses are too cold and his hands are starting to hurt.

“Here you have”

Once everyone has their drinks Patri takes a long sip from her and immediately makes a disgusted face.

“Oh my god, dude, this is super strong.” Patri looks at Dani searching for support but she sees him taking a sip from his drink without even blinking. “Dude, what the fuck? How can you drink it like that? Is yours not as strong as mine?”

“Not really, since I’m only drinking coke” Dani says laughing at his friend’s disgusted face still showing.

From the corner of his eyes he notices Amira staring. When he turns to her he frowns when he sees Amira’s confused face. She squints at him like she’s trying to decipher him.

“Hey guys, I’m going to go around the club to see if I find someone who buys me another drink, alright?” Patri, who has noticed that Amira wants to speak in private with her boyfriend, says.

“Why are you looking at me like that? You’re scaring me” Dani says once his friend is gone.

“Why aren’t you drinking?” Amira decides to be as clear as possible, no hesitation.

“Because I don’t feel like drinking, I don’t know” Dany says shrugging and taking another sip of his drink.

“Are you doing this for me?” Amira stands in front of Dani so she can see his face.

“No” Dani says and the thing is, Amira thinks he seems sincere. Still, she insists.

“Dani, you know I’m not going to force you to quit drinking, or smoking” Amira says pointing at the door where Rubén left a few minutes ago. “Right?”

“Of course I know. I’m not drinking and I’m not smoking because I don’t want to. I don’t feel like doing that.”

Amira tilts her head to one side and sighs, she’s not sure if she should believe him or not.

“Ami, you’re not forcing me to do anything, you’re not overwhelming me or any stuff you’re thinking right now, because I know you are.” Amira’s silence confirms that Dani is right. “I’m not drinking because I don’t want to, because that’s what I’ve decided. Alright?”

Amira sighs and nods, she knows he’s telling the truth.

“Besides” Dani adds showings Amira her favorite smile of his, the one that makes him look like a kid that’s about to get into trouble “I want to be on my five senses when being with my girl.”

“Your girl?” Amira repeats raising her eyebrows and smiling.

“My girl” Dani confirms.

For a moment, Dani and Amira forget that they’re in the middle of a club surrounded by people dancing and getting drunk. To them only the other exists and they can’t stop looking at each other.

The moment though, is interrupted by Rubén, who without even saying anything takes Dani’s drink from his hand and takes a big sip from it.

“Fuck, man, they’ve fooled you, this doesn’t have alcohol.” Rubén says surprised as if the thought of a non-alcoholic drink scared him.

“Give that back” Dani says taking the glass from him. “They didn’t fool me, I’ve ordered it this way”

“Fuck, dude, what a pussy” Rubén says laughing unbelievably “What’s the matter? Your Muslim girlfriend doesn’t allow you to drink?”

“What the fuck are you saying, you dick?” Dani takes a step forward and stands a few centimeters from his friend, trying to contain himself so he doesn’t cause a scene.

“Dani…” he hears Amira saying but his still staring at Rubén who, laughing, puts his arm around Dani’s shoulder.

“Shit, calm down, man, it was a joke. Oh, I see. She doesn’t let you see what’s underneath all those clothes and you’re on edge, right?” Turning to Amira, he adds. “Fuck, girl, indulge him a little bit or he’s going to combust.”

All the containment Dani was trying to keep goes straight to hell right the second that Rubén talks to Amira. He pushes him off of him and in a fragment of a second he grabs Rubén’s shirt and raises his fist ready to hit him. He doesn’t do it though, because in the last second he realizes what he’s doing and stops. He turns to look at Amira who’s looking at him with a scared face. Right in that moment Patri, who’s seen the fight from the other side of the club, arrives running.

“What’s going on here? Dani, what’s wrong?” She asks seeing how his friend still has his fist raised.

Dani sighs and lowers it, releasing Rubén’s shirt with a shove.

“You’re not worth the hassle” Dani says taking a step back from Rubén. He looks at Patri who simply nods, letting him know that she understands.

Dani turns around and approaches Amira. The look on her face sends a jab of pain straight to his heart.

“Let’s go, please.” Dani begs her and Amira nods without hesitation.

Dani leads the way outside the club, Amira following him trying to keep up with his pace. Once they’re outside they walk in silence for a few minutes. All Amira can hear is Dani’s agitated breath. She tries to give him space for him to calm down before she says something but when she hears him sniffle as if he’s about to cry she reacts.

“Dani…”

“How can you deal with this?” Dani asks stopping dead on his tracks. For the first time since they left the club Amira is able to look at his eyes and she notices that they’re read, as if he’s trying to hold back the tears.

“I don’t understand” Amira mumbles in confusion.

“How can you deal with that kind of comments every fucking day? I’ve had to endured them for five minutes and I almost rip Rubén’s head off” Amira notices how Dani gets agitated just by saying his friend’s name. Dani closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to calm down before opening them and continue. “You have to listen to those comments every day, and still, you’re the most wonderful person I’ve ever met.”

“I am not.”

“Yes, yes you are. You’re always there for anyone that needs you, you’re honest and sincere, and kind, there’s not one shred of hate in you. If I had to endure everyday what you have to I’d be full of hate or getting into fist fights all the time.” Trying to avoid her eyes Dani looks at the floor embarrassed.

“But you didn’t do that today.” That catches Dani’s attention who looks up at Amira. “You could’ve beaten up Rubén, but you didn’t. Why?”

“Because I don’t want to be that type of person, I want…I want to be better than that.”

“There you have your answer.” Amira says smiling at him endearingly. Dani stands there in silence and Amira takes the opportunity to put her thoughts in order before speaking. “Look I’m used to that kind of stuff. It shouldn’t be like that, and it sucks, but it is what it is. And it comes a time when you just have to know how to choose the battles that are worth fighting for because if you don’t then you’ll spend your whole life fighting and arguing. And well, there are moments when I do answer and reply to those comments and I don’t let them win, or I try to make the other person see that what they’re saying is wrong. But sometimes it’s just not worth the hassle. I’m proud of who I am, and I’m proud of my faith and not one ignorant is going to change that. And…I don’t know, at the end of the day, nobody is perfect, and most of the times those comments don’t mean to hurt me. Even the person that loves you the most can make an unfortunate comment from time to time.”

“Like me, for example, right?” Dani mumbles, not knowing if he wants to hear the answer to his question. When Amira doesn’t say anything and looks at him with a sad face Dani doesn’t need her to answer. Something inside him breaks and the tears that he was trying to hold back roll down his face.

“Dani…” Amira takes a step forward, her heart breaking.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry Ami, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry about any shitty comment or joke I might’ve made. I’m sorry.”

“Dani, it’s alright, really, it’s normal.”

“Of course it’s not alright, fuck. You’re my girlfriend Ami and I just…I can’t deal with the thought of me hurting you that way. I’m sorry Ami, please forgive me.

“Hey, hey, hey. I forgive you, alright? I forgive you.”

“Ami, I…I don’t want to make you feel like that ever again.” Dani’s mind is going a mile per second trying to find the words to express what he’s thinking. “I need, please, I need that…if I ever say something or do something that hurts you or offends you, I need you to tell me, so I can learn and I can correct myself. I want to be better Ami, I want…I want to unlearn some habits and…I need your help. I don’t want to be burden to you, I don’t want you to feel like you’re my mom or my teacher, I just need you to…trust me enough to know that you can tell me what hurts you so I won’t repeat it again. Please.”

Amira looks at him and sighs, taking a step forward to shorten the distance between them. She’s feeling a mix of sadness from seeing him like this and calm for the fact that he’s showing real interest in her and in respecting her. That’s how she knows that their relationship has a shot of being alright.

“Alright, but with one condition.”

“Whatever you want.” Dani says immediately.

Slowly, Amira raises her right arm and with a gentle touch she wipes away Dani’s tears.

“Stop crying, please.” Amira notices how Dani gets almost paralyzed by her touch and she’d be lying if she said that she doesn’t love having that effect on her. They stare at each other so intensely that for a moment Amira feels like she can’t breathe. She takes a step back. “And now take me to buy some juice because I couldn’t finish my drink”

Dani’s laugh, which Amira is now realizing she was already missing, makes her breathe relieved.

“Deal.”

[wizardofahz]

Collecting Intel

Alex closes the door behind her with a sigh of relief.

Even on the best of days, she is not the most social creature. After a long Friday night of DEO operations that stretched into an early morning, she had been especially reluctant to come to this party at Nia’s, but she had promised Kara. 

Promise fulfilled, Alex walks down the hallway, paying little attention to the passing couple. 

“Alex?” 

Alex turns to face the speaker, a women who looks vaguely familiar. Behind her, the other person continues on to enter Nia’s apartment.

“Hey! How’ve you been?” the woman says enthusiastically.

Alex fights not to show her confusion and very desperate need to get away. “Hi! Good. And you?” Person whose name I do not know, she mentally adds.

“So much better,” the woman says, relief palpable in her voice. “I’m sorry our date was a little awkward.”

Oh, so they had gone on a date at some point. Oops.

The woman continues, “You were so kind to me, and it really helped me ease back into the dating scene.”

Me? Alex thinks. I did what now?

“Anyway I met someone amazing, and we’ve been dating for three months now!“

“Good for you!” Alex says sincerely, while still trying to think of a way out of this conversation. She may want the best for people, but that doesn’t mean she enjoys talking to them.

“Thanks! How’re things going for you?” the woman asks with genuine interest. 

Did Alex not already say she’d been good? Why did she need to say more than that?

“Uh, good. Good.” Her mind scrambles for something more to say. “My girlfriend’s out of town visiting her brother otherwise she’d be here.”

Apparently it’s a sufficient answer because the other woman smiles. “That’s so great. We should get together some time, maybe go on a double date.”

Oh no, Alex’s brain says.

“Sure,” her mouth says instead.

Traitor.

...

The following Monday, Alex scans the CatCo bullpen and sighs in relief when she sees Nia. She quickly makes her way to Nia’s desk.

“Hey, Alex,” Nia says when she spots her, “Kara’s out on an assignment,” the emphasis on the last word letting Alex know that the assignment is more Supergirl than CatCo related.

It amuses Alex that everyone immediately assumes she’s come to CatCo to see Kara, probably because it’s usually true.

“I know,” Alex says. “I’m actually here to see you.”

“Oh,” Nia says with mild surprise. “What can I do for you?”

“I wanted to ask you about a couple of people that came to your party on Saturday: a woman and a, uh... another person, kinda androgenous looking. They were coming as I was leaving.”

Nia nods. “Right. ‘Cause you left early.”

“I left after midnight!” Alex protests.

Nia gives her a look that might as well say, Sure thing, grandma.

Rude.

“Look, the point is I need to know who this woman is. Apparently we went on a date at some point, and now she wants to go on a double date with me and Kelly. I don’t even know her name.”

Nia’s expression morphs into one of amusement. “Didn’t this already happen to you? I didn’t think you were the love ‘em and leave ‘em type.”

“I’m not!” Alex insists. “I’ve probably had way too many sleepless nights thanks to the DEO. Sleep is important for memory encoding, you know.” Maybe giving a sleep excuse to Dreamer of all people isn’t the best idea. “Or maybe I got a concussion. That could also contribute to memory loss.”

“And that happened multiple times?” Nia asks skeptically. Then her tone changes. “Actually I can believe that, and the fact that I can is kinda worrying. Have you considered wearing a helmet more often?”

Alex ignores the question. She needs to get them back on track. She’s receiving more sass than help at the moment. “The person she was with was probably her partner. I think she’s bi. Maybe. I don’t know what I’m basing that on. Does that help?”

Amusement returns to Nia’s face. “Okay, you are a disaster. It doesn’t ring a bell for me, but I’ll ask Yvette.”

At least this serving of sass came with a side of help. “Thank you.”

...

Alex slaps the back of the armored DEO vehicle, signaling the all clear for it to transport the hostile alien to the DEO.

Once it’s on its way, she makes a beeline for Dreamer before she can leave the scene. After a quick check to ensure no one else will hear, Alex says, “I have new intel.”

“Did the Ramborian have a partner?” Nia asks immediately. Apparently her adrenaline is still flowing, and she’s eager for another fight. “Do we need to go?”

“What? No, not about that.” Alex supposes she could’ve done a better job of changing the subject. “I got this.”

She shows Nia a text on her phone:

Hey Alex. It was so good to see you! How does next Friday sound for our double date? Will your girlfriend be back in town? X

Nia eyes the message and the unrecognized number. “What am I supposed to get from this?”

“I... I don’t know,” Alex admits. In her line of work, every piece of new evidence is a potential new lead. “She signed it ‘X’. I know that can mean kisses, but also it could mean her name is... something like... Christina?”

Nia’s face reflects both their skepticism. “Yeah... still got nothing.”

“Did you ask Yvette about it?” Alex asks. She doesn’t mean to be a pest, but right now in the tournament of competing anxieties that is her life, being overly dependent on Nia’s help is less uncomfortable than going into this double date without so much as knowing the woman’s name.

“It slipped my mind by the time I got home yesterday, but--” Nia raises her hands in a placating manner. “--I’ll ask Yvette today. I promise.”

“Thank you. Really,” Alex says. “And let me know even if Yvette doesn’t know, so I can figure out contingency plans.”

Nia quirks an eyebrow. “Okay, this is a double date, not a mission. Relax. Stop approaching it like one.”

Alex would rather have a mission.

...

Nia Nal: I got it

Nia Nal: Her name’s Chloe and her partner is Dany. They/them pronouns

Alex Danvers: Omg thank you! I owe you one

Nia Nal: You can thank me by having a good time

Nia Nal: You do know how to have a good time, right?

Alex Danvers: :rolling_eyes_emoji:

Alex Danvers: Of course I know how to have a good time 

Nia Nal: oF cOuRsE i KnOw HoW tO hAvE a GoOd TiMe

Nia Nal: Sure Jan

[ash-clarington]

WHO: Ash & Dani ( @daniharperdominant ) WHEN: after that one fight // end of December after the crash WHAT: separate paras in the vein of comfort.  WARNINGS: ??? why do I refuse to post things ffs

​OCTOBER; 

Ash hesitated before kneeling at Dani's door. It wasn't that, not tonight, but Ash was conflicted within herself as it was and she felt too out of control already to do anything but play it safe. She wasn't sure what Dani would have wanted and the last time she had gotten it wrong. The submissive knocked and crossed her arms, holding herself in. It'd been an eventful day.

Dani was still processing everything she'd heard about the fight, and wondering what on Earth might have possessed Ash to go after someone that way.  All she knew was that it wouldn't have happened without some serious provocation, and if Ash wanted to share more than that she could.  Hearing the knock, she opened the suite door to find Ash kneeling there. "Good girl.  Stand up and come in, please.  There is a fluffy pair of pajamas and a robe on my couch, if you'd like to go change before we get settled."

The pajamas were a nice offer but, Ash wouldn't be caught dead in them. She did however accept the robe with a nod and took herself into the bathroom to change and wash her face. She hadn't stopped back at her room, unsure if there was a possibility of running into Odette. Ash stripped down to her underclothes and ran cool water for a moment over bruised knuckles before washing up and pulling on the robe, cinching it at the waist. "Thank you for letting me come by, Miss." She said once she'd returned. "You weren't doing anything festive tonight?"

Dani watched as Ash took the robe and left the pajamas, and she folded them with a quiet smile to be put back in her closet later.  Anything that she offered was only to be accepted if Ash wanted it, and it didn't hurt her feelings either way.  As she busied herself in the washroom Dani grabbed a couple of waters and a small snack in case Ash hadn't eaten all day. "You're welcome, Ash - it's honestly my pleasure.  And no, no parties tonight - I always find it gets a little crazier than I'd like."

Ash sat and exhaled, forcing herself to relax. She liked spending time with Dani, or at least, it wasn't any work and the Dominant never really demanded much from her. "Do you want me to tell you what happened?" She asked, already knowing what Dani would say. Some part of her felt like she owed an explanation, to shake off the way it sounded. The question became rhetoric when Ash rolled her eyes at herself and began telling Dani anyway. "I have this box of things from what feels like... a past life and I was, I'd been wanting to..." Her brow furrowed and she started again. "Odette took a ring from me, I don't know why. I didn't... I didn't even ask." She said, the thought only just occurring to her. " Ever since she got here it's really always been something and today I just, lost it." Ash took a breath and wiped her cheeks, annoyed with another wave of tears after already washing her face.

Dani had found, since getting her mark, that being a good Dominant sometimes required the ability to simply be quiet.  Any idiot - as Lottie had proved - could bark out orders and pretend to be a Dominant.  It took the ability to actually listen to really be one.  So when Ash asked her question, Dani simply waited for her to choose - and choose she did, finally opening up. When the tears splashed her cheeks, Dani resisted the urge to reach for her.  Comfort, like anything else, was something Ash needed to decide if she wanted.  "I'm going to make a couple of assumptions," she said softly, "and you can tell me if I'm wrong.  I assume that this ring has sentimental value, as part of that past life.  I'm also going to assume that she never asked for your permission to touch her things."  Dani paused for a moment.  "I obviously shouldn't condone assault.  But I've had people try to take my things, and I won't lie and say I never fought them.  So I can't condemn what you did, Ash." Dani worried at her lip.  "If you're here for condemnation from me, you won't get it.  Because I won't."

Ash tipped her head, a crooked smile aimed in Dani's direction. "I'm not." She promised. She took a deep breath, drying once more at her cheeks, this time with the sleeve of the soft robe. "The Dean will be issuing a punishment and... I'm upset enough with myself, I don't need to convince anyone else to be." The exhaustion of the day and flip flop between emotions had Ash drained. On top of that she had grown comfortable with Dani. From the time they'd spent together in the Dominant's room to all the time they'd been sharing on the roof while Ash was escaping and avoiding her own room. It accumulated to the submissive's walls being down, and honesty came easy. Ash almost laughed. "After all that, i'm still just avoiding the box from the closet." She distracted herself playing with the end of the robe's tie. "I didn't want to go back to the room and I wasn't sure... where she'd be exactly. I never asked."

Dani nodded.  "That makes sense.  And I'm sure you've got this taken care of, but I'll say it anyway - if you need somewhere to go after your punishment, you know that my door's always open for you."  Aftercare, she hoped, would be provided by whoever was responsible for the punishment, but she still needed to be sure that Ash had a safe place to go - especially given what she said next about her room.  "That makes perfect sense - both parts.  You're welcome to stay here with me for as long as you need, and if you need someone to walk you back to your room to collect your things I'm here for that too."

Dani being openly warm with her was not helping her emotional state. It seemed every time she began pulling herself back together the Dominant tugged at a particular string just a bit and it made her eyes water again. Defiantly, Ash looked up at the ceiling and bit her lip, forbidding a single tear more to fall. "I appreciate that, Miss." She sighed and shifted, moving to lay her head in Dani's lap, dark curls spilling in all directions. "Are you like this with everyone?" Ash found herself asking out loud, a thought she had only just pondered as she'd gotten comfortable that made it past her lips unchecked.

There was no missing the way Ash's eyes watered, but Dani wasn't going to point it out or draw attention to it in any way.  "Of course, Ash.  It's my pleasure, and I want to know that you have somewhere safe to go.  Once the submissive's head was in her lap Dani's fingers began to work gently through her hair.  "I would like to think so," she replied softly.  "I try to treat everyone the way they deserve to be treated.  But I won't lie, I do enjoy spending time with you."

The words sent a shiver up Ash's spine in a chilling way, something she felt she should shake off but the submissive let them settle instead. She closed her eyes against the feeling of fingers through her hair and the weight of her exhaustion seemed to double the more she relaxed. "I'll need to be back to my room in the early morning to pack. Before curfew lifts." Ash said, allowing herself to be lulled. "New room assignment." She left out the part about how she should be there now, how she was meant to be ready to move first thing. "If you don't mind ordering me back tonight so, I don't have to wake you?"

"I'm very glad that they gave you a new room assignment.  You don't need to be in there with someone you can't trust to stay out of your personal effects."  The weight of Ash's head felt right in her lap, and she was content to stay there just as long as the submissive was comfortable with her.  "Of course I don't mind.  I'd be happy to give you orders as long as you're good to receive them from me."  She didn't toss around random orders, and had virtually never given anyone orders they weren't already expecting.

REASSURANCE; 

It took a while for Ash to find a position that was the least uncomfortable but she was glad to be out from under her sisters watch. More specifically she was glad to be in the Dominant’s space. Dani had a calm about her and the two of them had built up a quiet trust between them that Ash allowed herself to indulge in every now and then. The submissive shifted carefully again to bring herself a little closer to Dani, seeking more contact between them. Absently Ash toyed her fingers at the Domme’s wrist and up her arm. They’d been laying that way for about an hour and Ash was on the cusp of falling asleep but she was fighting it. Frustrated with sleeping the days away and stubbornly determined to keep her time with Dani. “No more beer on the roof.” She said, the thought coming to her mind slowly. Ash lifted her eyes to Dani’s then buried herself in deeper, ignoring the deep ache her movements caused. “What a shame.”

If she were pressed on the subject, Dani would have confessed to pride that Ash trusted her.  It wasn't a commodity that anyone gave out easily, and that seemed doubly true with Ash - which made Dani doubly proud to receive it.  Once they'd climbed into bed she stayed back just a little, letting the submissive try to find a position that wouldn't cause her any pain before gently sidling closer and laying an arm across her.  Once they'd settled they stayed close, just taking the quiet time to relax and giving Ash, hopefully, a place to recuperate a little where she wasn't being watched over by her sister.  The little touches brought a smile to Dani's face, and when Ash spoke up she nodded.  "It really is.  I enjoyed those nights a lot: I'm still okay doing them without beer, but it's up to you if it still feels worth it."

“I’ll still be frequenting for cigarettes.” She replied, agreeing without directly doing so. Even there tucked away against Dani, in her bed, Ash wouldn’t admit completely how much she enjoyed their time together. On the roof of course was different than the quiet close comfort the Domme was so good at providing and Ash had been craving it enough to not be concerned with how she was being perceived. The truth was the longer they lay together the farther Ash felt herself sink into her thoughts, calm and safe enough to think the week over a few times and it was making her chest tight and tongue taste metallic. The submissive took hold of the end of Dani’s shirt, looking for a way to ground herself. “It’d be worth it.”

"That works out well, then.  I'll be up there just enjoying the view and the company."  Dani kept her words casual, but they were still carefully chosen.  She wasn't pushing Ash into anything, and their rendezvous wouldn't be scheduled or the like; just something that happened when it happened.  When she felt the grip on her shirt, though, she moved one hand to rub slowly up and down Dani's side.  They didn't have to talk about it, but she was there to provide any comfort they could.  "I agree," she nodded.  "Definitely worth it."

"You're not upset?" Ash found herself asking, her eyes trained on Dani's collar bones peeking out from beneath her shirt collar long enough to give in to reaching up to touch them. Fingertips barely grazing over warm soft skin. "About the new rules." She clarified, not wanting Dani to get confused and think Ash had meant upset with her specifically. She wasn't prepared for more people to be disappointed in her, least of all Dani. She'd gotten enough from her siblings for getting herself into the situation, neglecting being responsible, whatever it was. Typically she didn't care for their opinion but something about it was bothering her. Not to mention the fact that she was very specifically told by her father not to come home for any holidays. As if she'd been planning to anyway. Ash took her hand away to tuck under her own face and she chanced a glance at the Domme's expression, searching for anything Dani might not say out loud.

Dani was silent for a moment, knowing her answer walked a thin like between honesty and risking upsetting Ash any further.  Her hand never slowed or stopped, though, still rubbing her side gently.  "Not upset, exactly.  I think it's unfortunate, and I also think it's a rule that's going to get a lot of people in trouble, because we're all adults and some people are going to want their alcohol that much.  But I understand what they're thinking, at least, even if I don't agree with basing a decision this big on a single incident."

Ash gave a slight wince when Dani touched on a particularly tender spot but she hid it by readjusting and allowing her hair to curtain over part of her face, not wanting her to stop. "Maybe it is only temporary." She tried, a thought she'd used for her own self soothing over the past few days. "I shouldn't have..." Ash paused, swallowing a sudden lump in her throat to ensure she could trust her voice from betraying the exterior she'd been attempting to maintain. "I shouldn't have gotten in the car. I really thought she'd--she usually has things under control." Ash turned away, carefully settling most of her weight into her hip so she could curl herself into the little spoon without hurting her healing ribs. "I wasn't thinking."

Dani adjusted herself just a little as Ash spooned into her, which gave her a chance to think over what she wanted to say.  "That's possible.  And I think it would be smarter for them to make it only temporary, but I don't know what they're thinking or what they've got in mind for the future.  We'll just have to see."  She immediately shook her head at what Ash had to say about the crash, however.  "It's not your fault.  None of this is.  You were out having a good time, and the minute she sat behind the wheel of the car she took responsibility for getting you home safely.  It infuriates me that she let you down, and that the only thing keeping," Dani swallowed some of her anger, keeping her voice in check.  "That the only thing keeping you from being gone today was you being smart enough to put your seatbelt on.  This was not your fault.  None of it."

Ash closed her eyes against Dani's words, trying to hear them. It didn't count because Ash expected it from Dani, she'd said the same thing when she'd had her outburst on campus. She may have gone there anticipating hearing it, or hoping. She exhaled slowly and relaxed into Dani further. Her exhaustion just from making the journey to the Dominant's room and the short walk she'd managed to sneak earlier in the day was catching up to her. More than she could keep successfully suppressing. Ash didn't bother to open her eyes again and though she nodded it was more in acknowledgment that she'd heard Dani, not that she entirely agreed. This time Ash knew the Domme was alone in that thought. Max may have been driving but it had been made very clear to her by the school and the people closest to her that she certainly played her part. "Thanks for letting me over, Miss."

There wasn't any mistaking the exhaustion in Ash's posture, or the way that she seemed to be sinking toward unconsciousness.  And that was just fine with Dani; if she could help the submissive get some proper rest, the kind that healed and felt safe and warm, then she wanted that.  "You're welcome, Ash.  You're welcome anytime."  Reaching out with the hand that wasn't under Ash, Dani turned off her bedside lamp.  The room wasn't completely dark, but it was dark enough for rest, and she laid her arm back over Ash's middle very gently.  Resting wasn't going to be made an order, but Dani did hope it would come.

[frenchfrysplash]

fic: between heaven, the sky, the earth

The Haunting of Bly Manor

Dani/Jamie

Chapter 4/10

Read on AO3 Here! Or you can continue into the Read More.

Summary: Jamie goes between one moment, and the next. Falling around her like rain, like snow.

She’s here for a reason. Here to help.

She just needs to remember.

----------------------

chapter four: the forest edge

I had withdrawn in forest, and my song

Was swallowed up in leaves that blew alway;

And to the forest edge you came one day

(This was my dream) and looked and pondered long,

- Robert Frost, "A Dream Pang"

March 1986

There was a young man sitting at the bar, watching her.

Normally, Jamie would ignore that sort of thing. Young men watched her; it was a fact of life when you were a young woman on your own. And Jamie was usually on her own, in whatever she did.

But there was something off about this young man. His eyes had followed her since she walked into the pub, ready for a quick bite to eat after work before she headed upstairs for bed. She had tried to eat quickly, not wanting to deal with whatever he wanted from her. Had determinedly not looked towards the bar. She was tired, and all she wanted was to be left alone.

It had been a long day at the manor. Rebecca seemed to be drifting away from them all more and more lately, and that meant the kids were often left to their own devices. And kids left to their own devices meant trouble, which sometimes meant Jamie gritting her teeth at a bed of trampled flowers and two half-way apologetic children.

But just as she was about to get up, the chair across from her slid out, and the young man slid into it.

"Uh," Jamie said, staring at him. "Hello?"

"Jamie?" He asked, nervousness spelled out across his face.

Jamie blinked at him; took him in, from the slight frame, the brown hair and beard, the jaw and nose and bright green eyes that mirrored her own.

"Fuck," she said. "Denny?"

"Well," he smiled weakly. "That's one way to greet your older brother."

"What-" Jamie looked around the bar wildly, as if the smoke-filled room could give her answers. "What are you doing here?"

"Came to see you, didn't I?" He said. "I've been looking for ages. I know you went to see Mum a while ago-"

"Came to see me?" Jamie gaped at him. "But…why?"

"You're my sister," Denny said, as if that was the obvious explanation.

Jamie sighed, and leaned back in her chair, rubbing her eyes. "I'm gonna need another drink for this," she said.

"I'll get you one," Denny said eagerly, and he was out of the chair before Jamie could stop him.

Hands shaking, Jamie reached into her jacket pocket, pulling out her packet of cigarettes and her lighter. She stuck one between her lips and fumbled with the lighter, trying to get it to light, but only succeeding in clicking it a few times.

A hand covered her own, and Jamie glanced to her right, where Dani smiled at her.

"It's ok," she said soothingly. "I've got it."

She pushed Jamie's thumb out of the way, and clicked the lighter on for her, guiding it to the cigarette at Jamie's lips. Jamie breathed the smoke in, and Dani placed the lighter on the table in front of her, watching her affectionately as Jamie exhaled.

"Can I get one of those?" Denny had reappeared, holding two pints, setting one in front of Jamie and keeping one for himself. He sat back down in the chair and pushed his hair back, a nervous habit Jamie was startled to realize they shared.

"Help yourself," she said, nudging the cigarettes and lighter over to him.

Dani had disappeared from her side, but Jamie could swear she still felt her hand on her shoulder. She took another deep drag of her cigarette, watching as Denny lit one for himself.

"So," she asked. "How did you find me?"

"You keep in contact with Mikey," he said. "I found him through Dad, and well, he pointed the way towards you." He paused, regarding her for a moment. "Don't be pissed at him; he just wants to see his family back together."

"I'm not pissed at Mikey," Jamie said. She tapped ash into the tray on the table and took a gulp of her lager. "I get it. He was too young to remember everything, and he just wants to play happy families. But you," she pointed at him. "You were older."

"I know." Denny fidgeted uncomfortably, clearly wanting to change the subject. "Dad's retiring, this year."

"Good for him."

"I , uh, I've been working in the mine too," he said. "And we've gotten closer. Easier being his friend than his son, it turns out." He chuckled humourlessly. "And then I found Mikey, and well, I thought, maybe it was time I looked for you. Thought maybe you could come to Dad's retirement party."

"Denny." Jamie raised her eyebrows. "It's been almost twenty years since I last saw you. And you want to invite me to my estranged father's retirement party?"

"No," Denny sighed. "No, I just." He picked up his beer and drained half the glass in one go. "I don't know. I thought maybe I could get to know you? You're my sister."

Jamie exhaled smoke, and stared at him. "What do you want to know?"

Denny swallowed, sitting up a little straighter. "Well, uh," he cleared his throat. "What do you do here? I mean, in Bly." He waved his hand. "For a living."

"I'm a gardener," Jamie replied. "Groundskeeper. All around general handywoman. At a local manor."

She didn't mention that it was the local manor; the one that shared its name with the village beside it. Denny didn't need to know more than the basics.

"A groundskeeper?" He nodded, almost to himself, a smile quirking his lips. Jamie felt the lead weight in her chest get heavier as she recognized that smile from the mirror.

"Yeah," she said, a touch defensive. "It's a job. Pays well. And I'm bloody good at it."

"No, no, yeah, I mean," he held up his hands, palms outwards. "I was just thinking it makes sense. I remember half the time Mum had to go out in the garden to pull you out of a tree or some bushes. Always covered in dirt, and scrapes. Holes in your dresses."

He puffed on his cigarette, grinning now, as though these were good memories he was sharing. The weight in Jamie's chest was turning into something else, something twisted and sinister, acid dripping into her heart and lungs, burning through her as she gazed steadily at her brother.

The hand on her shoulder gripped tighter, a vice.

"You do realize I was up those trees because I was trying to get away from you and your little friends, don't you?" She asked finally.

Denny froze.

"Jamie," he started.

"Because when you did find me, you'd say I was a whore just like mum." Jamie's voice was quiet, quieter than it had ever been, and detached. She almost wondered if someone else was speaking. "And those scrapes and those holes in my dresses were from your friends at school, weren't they? Pushing me around. Tripping me up. Remember how I broke my arm when I was six because your best mate pushed me down the stairs?"

"I never-" Denny swallowed, and pointed his cigarette towards her, hand shaking. "I never touched you."

"Nah, 'course not." Jamie laughed, a dark, bitter sound. "Dad would have killed you if he found out. But you never stopped them either, did you? Just stood back, and let it happen. Laughed when I got shoved into the walls; when they started kicking. Joined in when it was just words."

She stared at him, the acid coursing through her veins. There were two hands on her shoulders now, gripping so tightly it hurt. But Jamie was focused on the man in front of her, whose face was going pale.

"I was just a kid," he said weakly. "I didn't know."

"So was I!" Jamie hissed, standing up so fast her chair toppled over. "I was just a kid who needed her big brother to protect her, and instead you just made things worse!"

Denny's eyes were wide, staring up at her, his expression aghast. The rest of the pub had gone silent, no one quite looking in their direction, but no one looking away either. The bartender caught Jamie's eye, raising a questioning brow, and Jamie waved him away. He nodded.

"I'm sorry," Denny said, his voice trembling. "Jamie, I - I'm sorry."

He looked so much like a little boy, and for a moment, Jamie saw that same little boy's face laughing at her as she cried, mouth opening to hurl insults. She glared at him, at this man who dared come in here to try and beg her forgiveness, as if he deserved it.

"What he deserves is for you to wrap your fingers around his throat," Viola whispered from behind her, directly into her ear. "And to squeeze until he can never hurt you again."

Jamie breathed in through her nose, fingers curling into fists at her sides. She stalked forward, around the table, to where Denny sat, frozen, eyes widening in fear. Her hand stretched out, closed around his throat, squeezed.

"He'll never hurt you again," Viola murmured. "He'll never betray you again, will never take your husband and daughter from you-"

All at once, the spell broke, and Jamie was back on the other side of the table, having never made the journey around it. She took an unsteady breath, and leaned on the table, dropping her cigarette into the ashtray and grabbing for her drink, taking several gulps.

"Nah," she said, not looking Denny in the eyes. "I - I shouldn't have…"

She took another breath in, and turned around, picking her chair up and sitting back down. She looked up at her brother, blinking away tears.

"How did this go?" She asked. "The first time. What happened?"

"You got angry," Denny said. He looked significantly calmer now, and took a drag of his cigarette, exhaling from one corner of his mouth. "Yelled at me some more. The bartender came over and told me I should leave, and I did."

"Right," Jamie nodded. "But you left me your number."

He smiled. "And you called me three months later."

"I would never actually hurt you, Denny," Jamie said, a tinge of desperation in her voice. "I just - Viola, she - "

"I know," Denny said simply. He extinguished his cigarette and stood up, hands in his jacket pockets. "Do you remember what made you call me?"

"I was thinking about - about that day." Jamie's voice cracked on the last word, and she closed her eyes, breathing in. "The pot, and the water. And I was just - I was too small."

"You were tiny," Denny said gently. "Even for an eight-year-old."

Jamie nodded, looking up at him, eyes glassy. "The water boiled over, and I tried to move it, but I was holding Mikey, and I could barely reach. And it fell, and just…I got him out of the way, but I couldn't-"

"You were screaming," Denny told her. "And Mikey was screaming."

"Someone pulled us outside," Jamie said. "And over to the neighbours. And it only ever occurred to me later that you were the only one home."

Denny said nothing, just ducked his head, and sighed heavily.

"I know now's not a good time," he said, returning to the script from this night, so many years ago. "I get it. But Jamie," he fished a crumpled piece of paper and a pen out of his pocket, leaned onto to the table and scribbled something down. "If you ever find," he took a steadying breath. "If you ever want to, call me."

He placed the paper in front of her, and tapped it twice. Then he straightened up, and attempted a smile.

"See you around, Jamie," he said, and walked out of the pub.

Jamie didn't move for several minutes. Slowly, she picked up the piece of paper, staring at the numbers as they swam in front of her eyes. Sniffing, she stuffed it into her pocket, where it would stay for months, until she would finally take it out again and call her brother.

But that was a while away. Or maybe it was long ago. It didn't matter. Today, Jamie had another task.

"You should have destroyed him," Viola said coldly, taking the seat Denny had vacated. Her voice still grated against Jamie's ears, and her face was still entirely too smooth. Her gaze was a glare, and Jamie tried not to shrink under it.

"I was so angry with him," Jamie said, twisting her beer glass around slowly. "So angry. All I could remember was him hurting me." She searched Viola's face. "Is that what your sister did? Hurt you?"

"She killed me," Viola said simply. "And later, I killed her."

Jamie blinked, mouth opening, then closing again. "Well," she said. "I think you need this more than I do." She pushed the partially drunk beer across the table.

Viola stared at it. "What am I supposed to do with that?"

"It's alcohol," Jamie said. "Drink it."

Viola ignored the drink, turning back to Jamie. "My sister suffocated me with her own hands, while I lay in my sick bed."

Jamie exhaled and leaned back in her chair.

"That," she pointed at Viola. "is definitely worse. You win."

"Your brother humiliated you on a daily basis," Viola said. "His friends hurt you while he stood by and did nothing." Her fingernails dug into the table, hands turning into claws. "I don't know how you can simply sit there and - and -"

"Forgive him?" Jamie asked.

"Yes." Viola nodded. "Forgive him."

"I hadn't yet," Jamie said thoughtfully. "Not this night. And I wouldn't, not for a while. Not when I called him. Not when we met for lunch with Mikey. Not for years, I don't think."

"But you did," Viola pressed, leaning forward. "You forgave him, despite everything."

Jamie was quiet, staring off into the distance. From the bar, Dani smiled at her, and waved. Jamie blinked and she was gone.

"I did," she said, a kind of wonder in her voice. "I did forgive him eventually."

"I don't think I could ever forgive her." Viola's voice didn't sound angry anymore, just distant, almost sad. Jamie resisted the urge to reach across the table and take her hand. "For what she did to me. I trusted her, I loved her, and she -" She took a shuddering breath, and Jamie was surprised to see a tear running down her too-smooth cheek.

"I don't think you have to," Jamie said quietly. "Forgive her, I mean. Sometimes there's too much between two people for forgiveness." She frowned. "But aren't you tired of being so angry?"

Viola said nothing, face still as stone. Jamie continued.

"Dani said you were full of rage." Finally giving in, Jamie reached across the table and took The Lady in the Lake's hand, squeezing lightly. "And loneliness. And doesn't that get tiring? I was tired after 20 years of being angry. Aren't you tired? After 400 years?"

"Yes." Viola's grip on Jamie's hand tightened, almost painful. "Yes, I am. But I don't know anything else."

Jamie nodded. "I know, but-"

"All I have known for so long is this anger," Viola said, more tears slipping out. "I was betrayed by my sister, and left behind by my husband, and forgotten by my-"

She gasped, and her grip tightened even further, causing Jamie to suck in a pained breath.

Viola's eyes were wide, staring at nothing.

"Forgotten by my daughter."

[asherlockstudy]

I get that interview was HBO forced but it sounds insane when last season, he was saying Jaime needed to get away from her for good. I mean no nice post about Gwen after the last ep. I dont believe it was about not wanting to stir the hornet's nest if him and B didnt get together as he posted a huge loving one about Lena and that was a very controversial part of the plot. If hed know posted a gwen one saying"sorry JB didnt get a happy ending but here's me and Gwen in happier times" i dont get it

I think it’s very weird too…Imma analyze it. Not that I’m gonna reach any solid conclusion but I will just lay out all my thoughts.

Whatever the reason Nik doesn’t post or reply publicly to Gwen is, it has nothing to do with his personal preference for Braime or Jaime x Cersei. Even if we make the insane assumption that Nik appreciated that Jaime dumped Brienne to return to murderous Cersei and die with her without serving any purpose in the main plot (what lead actor of 8+ years would ever like being unimportant in the ending plot) and saw “pOeTRy” in it, it still doesn’t explain why he should prefer posting about Lena over Gwen. We would be naive to think he made a post about Lena and not Gwen because he prefers Cersei to Brienne. So, we still have no clear evidence of what Nik’s private thoughts and feelings are for his character after the ending. 

Here’s what we have: 

We have two interviews: one with HBO rofl and one with that journalist who collaborates with HBO and was an insider (I’m not gonna search his name) in which he stans Jaime’s choices, his love for Cersei and the tragic poetry in it all. Then we have him promoting the episodes and the documentary in his instagram and twitter, however he is entirely emotionally detached from his character and his fate. I would say he lowkey looks entertained in his weird af episode promo videos and secretly amused while filming the “thank you” video after the last episode where he says “Come on, it was great” and suggests a petition for an Arya (huh?) sequel.

We have two videos uploaded on yt with him: one is a video of a stalker in which Nik looks uncomfortable and passes the question to the random guy next to him who apparently happens to be a GOT fan, have an elaborate opinion on the last season, hate D&D and think they threw away Jaime’s beautiful character arc. What are the odds…The second is a skit in Jimmy Kimmel in which Nik drags his own character by making him stupid and clumsy, a sad little being because of his maiming and, most importantly, an unrepentant sister fucker. All of Jaime’s worst qualities displayed for laughs, plus that he’s actually a likeable but very stupid person. The skit ends with a dragon randomly burning him and his family alive and those credits

So, we have straightforward criticism towards D&D by Kimmel and NCW actually participates in it. This is what this skit means - that this level of writing, this kind of lame character and that ludicrous death is something that only Benioff and Weiss would like to produce. And, well, the Olsen sisters (although I think they’re cleverer than that). 

So, we have two videos where NCW’s intentions are dubious AT BEST. 

Then we have all the promos. When left to speak on his own, Nikolaj would say how the ending was beautiful and made sense and he once mentioned he sent a letter to thank them for this genius plot…Right. But then when asked or caught off guard (1:04): 

Nobody tries to sugarcoat it, look at the title of the video: … NCW is ‘happy’.  Then of course we have our Lady and Saviour Gwen who tries not to laugh as Nik struggles to find what to say and not just stand up and flee.

Also, this one. The best one: 

I could make a thousand gifs for this but just watch again the entire video:

0:07 - Gwen’s face when Nik says he thought the script was fantastic

1:13 - “N-no..NO!!!” when asked if he would change something in the ending and Gwen’s reaction to that. Then, our leader Gwen proceeds to mock him: “So, it’s an immaculate- It’s immaculate?” to which Nik impulsively replies: “NO!” and goes on “do you ever read a book and think you want to rewrite this?” which implies, that yes he would want to rewrite it but knows he can’t. 

(3:03 - 3:06) - VERY IMPORTANT ONE. When Gwen wondered who was closer to predicting the actual ending, Nik says “I was, yeah” and OMG look at Gwen’s face. It’s very subtle but she’s trying to communicate with her eyes a “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT” to him without being seen by the interviewer. It’s kind of a wife done with her husband’s shit look tbh, that level of subtlety. And Nik answers back with his eyes in equal subtlety and it’s like he says a “What? I truly was right lol….”. To me, this seems to mean that Nik always knew or feared that D&D would eventually destroy all his work and was eventually proven right. Unless this all is about Dany being killed by Jon but I doubt at this point Nik and Gwen cared enough to go all cryptic and eye communicating for this. No, it was about them. 

3:09 - Nik is surprised and then clearly amused at the information by the interviewer that Kit was the one who came closer with his prediction. He can’t hide his smile and says an ironic “good for him” while looking knowingly at Gwen who then says this must be a lie. This shows that it is known amongst the actors that most of them are disappointed and Kit was one of them. Both Nik and Gwen apparently knew Kit hated his ending too and would never expect this to be how the show would wrap up. BTW that writing and that backlash really got to Kit, I hope he recovers soon. But think about this, Kit went into rehab for stress and alcohol, Emilia was devastated and gave a somewhat concerning interview and Nik’s public behaviour regarding GOT is inconsistent and unpredictable. I am thus assuming the writing of the final season and the backlash fucked them up way more than they let on. 

This interview is a gem but here’s the most important part, perhaps the core of what baffles us: 

1:32 - After all the miserable no-nos poor Nik mumbles, Gwen tells Nik what we all think: “I think it’s just a question, you know? Maybe you want to answer it?”

Of course he’s in a total loss for words. Literally, he doesn’t make any sense. Some incoherent sounds come out of his mouth and that’s it. This can mean two things: either he truly thinks the ending is perfect or the ending made him such a mess that he can’t even process it verbally two years later. 

Either Gwen is much braver and Nik is extemely paranoid or Nik actually has many more restrictions in what he is allowed to say. I believe Gwen wanted Nikolaj to be as open as her about it and she still tries to make him open up but he doesn’t. In all the promos without exception, Gwen looks as if she knows Nik is full of shit and secretly agrees with her. If Gwen knows that for a fact, then we can’t argue and it’s actually what makes sense anyway. Nikolaj agrees with Gwen but is not eager to discuss it openly yet, or ever. This could be because he is very professional or because he doesn’t want to get a bad name as a “backstabber” of his projects or it might be a situation of a more sensitive nature. 

If those rumours that the S8 script was changed are true, then Nik and Lena might have had a serious breakdown with D&D and a negotiation might have taken place. For instance, Nik and Lena were really unnecessary in E6, Nik’s scene in E1 could have been eliminated as well and Lena does not appear in E3. Yes, they are big actors but paying them 1,2 million for every episode seems a tad excessive when Emilia and Kit are now famous too and have like 300% times more screentime. All this is wild speculation but maybe they stretched their appearance in the episodes as much as possible and gave them a good amount of money to agree on the butchering of their characters and their importance as former lead actors. I mean, especially Lena was downgraded to a secondary character in this season. Lena had to really fight to see her salary rise in the previous seasons. And now it’s a million for every episode? Wow. How many minutes was she staring out of the window in S8? Maybe they were silenced and payed a shitload of money to stop complaining and promote the show and praise the writing as what it was supposed to be. Maybe they payed them in order to promote Peter, Kit and Emilia for the Emmys instead, who knows. When so much money is involved, things can get frustrating in ways we don’t even fathom. This is wild and rough speculation but all I’m saying is there may be reasons Nik avoids talking freely about his character that we can’t know. 

Besides, it’s not just a Gwen problem. It is not a Gwen problem. Gwen revealed she sent a “Jaime is a fuckboi” meme to Nik privately and he answered playfully as ever (but again as if he’s in denial). They posted a story together a couple of weeks ago. Nik did not just ignore Gwen’s instagram post. Daniel Portman posted the photo and tagged Nikolaj too. Nik ignored him as well. Bryan Cogman, who Nik and Gwen owe a lot to, commented under the photo in a very sweet and emotional way. Guess what, Nik ignored him too! It’s ridiculous to think Nikolaj has stopped communicating and caring about Gwen AND Daniel AND Bryan just because his character returned to Cersei. Furthermore, the fact that they all keep tagging him shows they don’t think their relationships with him have become tense. 

That’s not it. It’s not about Gwen. The only way that Gwen is involved in all this is that she wants Nikolaj to open up so that he would give a little acknowledgement to her character and the relationship with Jaime because she feels very much for Brienne. I’m sad to say, however, that it seems to me that Nik did not take that blow more lightly than Gwen. In fact, his behaviour is more inconsistent and troubling whereas Gwen’s openness about it made her confront that sore subject more healthily after all. I start believing Nik was actually way more devastated than Gwen. At least Brienne remained a decent character, ever faithful to her ideals, ever innerly strong. Jaime was entirely trashed, let alone that he was supposed to be a main character. If Nik can’t even handle a photo that reminds him of his destroyed character arc, I wouldn’t be surprised. Maybe Gwen wants Nik to open up so much for his benefit as well - he keeps it bottled up and she might know first hand how that affects him.

Long story short, the reasons Nik doesn’t post anything about his feelings for Jaime’s character arc, his relationship with Brienne and his collaboration with Gwen probably are both professional, after begrudging deals and agreements and restrictions from HBO, and very personal, inner and private, as he’s still trying to cope with a disappointment that crushed down on him from what used to be his dream job and a role he hoped would be a (or the) peak of his career. I bet all these years Nik was hopeful Jaime would be extremely important and fully redeemed in the end but also extremely scared and anxious that the writers won’t give him what he hoped for and what made sense. Would I exaggerate if I said this should be the biggest professional disappointment he ever experienced, provided that he didn’t like the character’s ending? 

From everything Gwen has said about him, I have surmised that Nik is very emotional and anxious but with a very blasé and superficially amiable attitude. He avoids expessing emotion in real life which is why he might be dissociating a lot lately. He tries to distance himself from that part of Jaime’s character that involved Bryan and Gwen because this is the part that he loved and lost. Honestly, I can’t think of any other logical reason he ignored Gwen, Dan and Bryan one after the other and never made a post about his own character specifically or his good times with Gwen. It’s obviously not that he suddenly hates all of them to the point of not even replying. Even if HBO restricts him on what he can say in interviews for a while, there is no other explanation for this other than that D&D’s genius writing fucked him up emotionally as much as Emilia and Kit and he does not want to deal with it even though Gwen probably thinks it would be for the best if he did. 

Now after I wrote all this, imagine if Nikolaj actually doesn’t give a shit and is just happy going on with his life while I am here wasting time. But… I don’t think so. I will never not believe Nik didn’t love Jaime to pieces. He had big dreams for this role, I am sure of it. 

[khaleesirin]

After 8x05 I've seen the argument that Martin never understood the way that a younger, more diverse, less male audience would read Daenerys's chapters, and that he didn't know he was writing her in a way that signaled her as a revolutionary to his readers. I've enjoyed your writing on the subject of Dany as a revolutionary, and wanted to know if you saw any sign that could be the case, or is it just that the show and its defenders are (hoping) completely wrong about everything?

I have two immediate problems with that argument because first, revolutionary story is not exclusively a non-white, non-male, fantasy. The western canon (both high-brow and low-brow) is replete with revolutionary figures written specifically for male fantasy/male sense of heroism. We have Star Wars as the most iconic (I’m sorry Star Trek) intergalactic sci-fi/fantasy story and it is about revolution/rebellion. Les Miserables is one of those classic literature of the Western canon that’s been continuously retold over and over, and it’s about the French Revolution.

In American literature specifically, slavery has been the spectre written over and over by white male writers (for better or for worse) in connection to what America has come, in relation to the whole point of American civil war, and what it means to the founding of the US as a revolutionary battle for freedom.

Martin specifically wrote Dany’s struggle as a power struggle for freedom against slavery because he’s banking on American culture’s entrenched occupation with slavery/revolution he’s comfortable enough to assume that his intended audience (whether that’s the male audience or the American audience) knows exactly what he’s talking about. Even the least well-read male reader would still pause and think that maybe Dany is from the “Resistance” or is playing the role of the abolitionist because again, and I can’t stress this enough,  American culture is inundated with the struggle against racism, slavery and along with it, freedom and revolution. It’s as much part of the white male consciousness as it is part of black/brown and women consciousness.

Martin, in all fronts, intends Daenerys to be seen as a revolutionary figure. Be it about racial struggle, or gender struggle, or class struggle, what revolution underlines is that everything is a power struggle. Not only thematically, even symbolically, he heavily associated Dany with fire: the most transformative discovery for the moving forward of civilization.

Also, as been pointed by folks who are more familiar with GRRM works, there’s a book written by him titled Fevre Dream in which the male protagonist, Abner Marsh, argued that slavery is wrong no matter what, that although the abolitionists may wanted to keep everything peaceful by not going all in, it has to stop, even doing it through fire and blood.

I think what it boils down to is less about male audience not sensing that Dany is a revolutionary figure but more about rejecting a female character for playing the role they believe should be an inherently masculine role. We have tons of male revolutionary figure, but we never have encountered a female revolutionary figure that became so powerful on her own. 

That leads me to the problem which I can concede Martin may or may not have realized while writing her story: American culture, while replete with revolutionary story, is also consumed with anti-communist rhetoric. There’s a difference between a revolutionary story done as a collective struggle as is often seen in our pop culture, and when one person does it with a violent bend. So the question moves from “is Dany a revolutionary figure?” to “what kind of revolutionary figure is she?” And let me tell you, once you raise that question, I have no doubt we will read the names of Vladimir Lenin, Mao Zedong, Che Guevara, Maximilien Robespierre. Figures who are known as revolutionary figures, but are also narrated as people choosing terror. 

In a society that champions Republicanism of the Greek kind, of participatory democracy, of the deliberative streak, no matter how true that is, the power that Dany wields, and her sense of justice, is a very uncomfortable reality to support. 

But this is why she’s an interesting character to begin with! She always, always, makes us reflect on who we are as a social being, in relation to others. 

[chaos-of-the-abyss]

After the misogynistic shitshow by Dumb&Dumber, do you have any recommendations (can be books/movies/shows/etc.) for series with women in power written well? Something that is, you know, beyond Dumb&Dumber's two brain cells to understand?

My apologies for how long it took me to answer this, anon.

I’ll be glad to point out to you some well-written stories of women in power. The issue is that I’m not certain what you mean by “women in power”. The most common interpretation that comes to my mind is a woman in political power, but there are several kinds, so I’ll give you a broader range of suggestions.

Now I have to say, I’m no expert in this topic, and I probably can’t give you as many recommendations as I’d like. Sorry about that. And also - all of these series I’m recommending have shortcomings, and none of them are perfect. I’ll make sure to list the (perceived, in my eyes at least) shortcomings of my suggestions. I do have to warn you first, though, that my descriptions contain minor spoilers.

*These are in no particular order

1. Tolkien

Whenever I’m asked a question about a series with well-written women, my first answer is always to read Tolkien’s books. The history of his legendarium spans thousands and thousands of years in earthly time, and even goes back to a time when time itself didn’t exist (a la the creation of the Ainur). There are many, many well-written female characters in the professor’s legendarium, and the best thing, to me, is that they’re varied. Tolkien doesn’t stick to one type of woman to serve as his female ‘icon’, so to speak, he writes women in many different kinds, and I can appreciate all of them.

Some examples: Galadriel is probably the most well-known, and I stan a wise, powerful, revered queen. Other examples include Varda Elentári (I literally worship her lol), Nienna Qalmë-Tári, Melian the Maia, Lúthien Tinúviel, Aredhel Ar-Feiniel, Morwen Eledhwen, and Idril Celebrindal.

Now for the shortcomings. I really only have one shortcoming when it comes to Tolkien, and that’s the fact that he never writes from the direct perspective of his characters, the way, say, GRRM does for ASOIAF. And while that style does have its great points which I enjoy to the fullest, such as leaving everything open for interpretation, it also prevents us from having a full look inside the characters’ heads and completely humanizing them. Although, actually, I tend to enjoy that aspect of Tolkien’s writing, as it allows me to explore and settle on my version of a character (which I usually do through writing fanfiction, lol). Still, this can be a drawback for some.

2. A Song of Ice and Fire

Assuming that ASOIAF’s ending won’t be like the ending for Game of Dumbasses, which I’m 99% certain it won’t be, GRRM generally does quite a good job when writing women in power in the midst of a world as misogynistic and shallow as ASOIAF’s world. He very realistically explores the rewards and consequences of their actions, personalities, and so forth. There is quite a large multitude of female characters in ASOIAF’s world, and they’re all quite varied as well.

Some examples: Daenerys Targaryen (my queen from this day until my last day), Arianne Martell (I love her I love her I love her), Asha Greyjoy, Sansa Stark (she’s become rather controversial as of late thanks to Game of Dumbasses, but I still like book!Sansa despite having my gripes about her), Arya Stark, Alysanne Targaryen, Rhaena Targaryen, and Margaery Tyrell. I might even tentatively name Cersei Lannister, who, while certainly not a good example or representation of a woman in power, is a very well-written example of the consequences that living in such a misogynistic, stiflingly patriarchal world such as ASOIAF’s.  

Now for the shortcomings. As much as I love ASOIAF, there are some rather sexist and racist themes in it, and also, the fact that there’s such detail about nudity, especially in Dany’s early chapters, when she’s a freaking thirteen-year-old, make me very uncomfortable.

3. Empress Ki

Unlike the others on this list, Empress Ki is not a book series (if it was, though - God, I would buy the books so fast). It’s a Korean drama set in Ancient China during the reign of the Yuan Dynasty established by the Mongol Kublai Khan following the life of a real-life historical figure, Empress Qi. Qi began as the daughter of a lower-ranking noble in Koryo (the name for Korea at the time), a vassal state of China. She was sold as a concubine for the emperor, Toghon Temür. Despite having an empress at the time, Toghon Temür fell in love with Qi and favored her. Eventually, Qi did become empress of the Yuan Dynasty.

Empress Ki, the k-drama, follows this history loosely, but it’s by no means historically accurate. Nevertheless, it paints a dramatized version of Empress Ki’s journey. What I like about the drama is that Empress Ki’s ambition is never framed as evil. She becomes very politically astute and manipulative, even vengeful, but maintains her heroism nevertheless. There was never even any hint of “Oh no, her ambition is making her evil™”. I liked that very much, and it was such a breath of fresh air after the vomit-inducing misogyny that D&D didn’t even try to hide in their writing.

Now for the shortcomings. Unfortunately, since this is set in the royal court of imperial China, where empresses and concubines all lived and all grasped for the emperor’s favor, there is a fair bit of cat-fighting going on between the women, a tired and overused trope. While it’s understandable because of the circumstances the women are in, it still tired me to watch. Empress Ki herself was also subject to being forced to behave, at least publicly, in a very narrow and stereotypical line of behavior for a concubine of the emperor, since she needed support. Imperial China was pretty misogynistic as well, and the k-drama is true to that kind of setting, though unfortunately never addressing or framing it as a particularly bad thing. But as I said, Empress Ki follows real history, and I understand why the writers couldn’t throw in something such as women receiving equal rights to being heirs or something to that effect.

4. The Nevernight Chronicle Series

The Nevernight Chronicles is set in a fantasy world with three suns, in which night only arrives once every few years. The main character is Mia Corvere, who is the daughter of an executed traitor in the Itreyan Republic. The story follows Mia as she goes on a journey for revenge against the people who killed her father, and her aim is to become an assassin of a cult, as she believes this would help her achieve her goals. Sounds cliche, right?

Despite this kind-of-overused trope (kid loses parent, becomes an assassin to avenge them), Nevernight caught my attention because Mia, our protagonist, isn’t exactly human. She’s a darkin, and has the power to bend shadows to her will. This power, though, comes with drawbacks. I can’t say too much more, as this isn’t a very well-known series and much more would be spoilers.

Admittedly, I’ve only read the first book and am still trying to get my hands on the second one. In any case, I’m recommending this because I very much enjoyed the way Mia, as an assassin, was written. There’s a very fine balance between her ruthlessness in trying to become a hired killer and the remnants of her morality. I also liked the writing style, although I suppose it’s not for some. The author uses footnotes to help with his worldbuilding, which I found kind of tedious at times unless the information in them was interesting.

Now for the drawbacks (besides the thing about the writing style, lol). I must warn you: although Mia is sixteen at the start of the series, this series is not classified as YA, but rather as adult fiction. And there’s good reason for that. It has some rather explicit descriptions of extreme violence, blood, and gore, and also, characters are put in mature sexual situations despite being only in their teens. Said scenes were pretty well-written in my opinion, but it still made me uncomfortable. There is also some underlying racism.

5. Game of Queens

Game of Queens . . . had its good points and its not-so-good points. The reason I’m putting it on this list is because it follows the story of the two Biblical queens, Vashti and Esther. As you may know, Vashti was ordered by her husband, the king of Persia Ahasuerus, to appear before him and his men in the men’s banquet hall, which was considered extremely scandalous and something no decent woman should ever do. Vashti refused, and because of her refusal, she was either deposed, exiled, or executed. The Bible doesn’t mention her again.

Ahasuerus’ second queen, Esther, was a Jew but had to hide it (I believe the Persian Empire disliked Jews or something to that effect, but frankly I can’t remember exactly why). However, Ahasuerus, influenced by his villainous counselor, almost ordered war on the Jews. To save her people, Esther revealed her identity as a Jew, putting herself at risk, and pleaded with Ahasuerus to call off the war, which he did.

Anyway, I very much liked Vashti and Esther’s characterization in the books, for different reasons. Vashti I liked because she began as a pawn: naive, carefree, wanting for nothing, and then she began to realize that she was being used. Her story in Game of Queens is about moving past and growing from the manipulated, unthinking child she was into a competent and intelligent manipulator herself. What I find noteworthy, though, is that despite her increasing cunning, she retains her gentle nature, and her kind personality never really changes. Too often have I seen stories where women lose innocence and become cold and hard as they learn to play the political game. And while I enjoy stories like that too, I admit it was very refreshing to see something different.

I liked Esther because she defied the norm of a woman during that era. Esther was a skilled horse rider, and strong and fit physically, not at all delicate. A moment I really, really liked in her story was when her aunt commented that she must be tired after a long journey, and Esther, raised more as her father’s son than her father’s daughter, replied that no, she wasn’t, and that she was very used to traveling much further distances.

Lastly, Vashti and Esther also became friends in Game of Queens, and I very much enjoyed reading the moments of their friendship. There’s no jealousy between them, no pettiness, no catfighting. Just two young women working together and becoming close.

As for the shortcomings, I disliked two things in particular: Amestris, Ahasuerus’ mother, is the classic power-hungry seductress who attempts to manipulate everything from behind the scenes. It’s not that I disliked her in and of herself - she was a very competent, very intelligent woman, but her character is such a stereotype that I felt it detracted from the story. She’s given no real backstory, no real motivation. The other thing I disliked is that Esther fell in love with Ahasuerus at first sight, based only on his handsome looks. For someone as witty, determined, and tough as Esther’s portrayal in Game of Queens, I was disappointed that her falling in love with Ahasuerus was such a swift process with no logical or emotional backdrop.

My dear friend @martaaa1506 also told me that the Wheel of Time series and the Witcher series are very good. I’d actually advise you to check her out for more recommendations, lol.