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marichive · 2 months

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𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐍 : 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑

Writing / roleplay prompts collected from the POV chapters of Daenerys Targaryen in A Dance with Dragons , the fifth book of the ASOIAF saga. Feel free to adjust pronouns / etc. as needed.

tw: dark & mature themes, death, violence, suggestive / sexual content

❝ There is no need for you to see this. ❞

❝ He died for me. ❞

❝ It is bad luck to touch the dead. ❞

❝ They are only girls. ❞

❝ The blood of the dragon does not weep. ❞

❝ I am still at war, only now I am fighting shadows. ❞

❝ They are soldiers, not warriors. ❞

❝ Their training teaches them to obey, fearlessly, perfectly, without thought or hesitation … not to unravel secrets or ask questions. ❞

❝ I’ll see them when I’m dressed. ❞

❝ A crown should not sit easy on the head. ❞

❝ You are so radiant today I fear to look on you. ❞

❝ Women do not forget. Women do not forgive. ❞

❝ Does he believe a pair of pretty slippers will win my hand? ❞

❝ If he proposes that I wed this man again, I’ll throw a slipper at his head. ❞

❝ I am only a young girl and know little of the ways of war. ❞

❝ Why, it must be because you have no other purpose but to plague me. How many times have I refused you? ❞

❝ I see that you are eloquent as well as beautiful. I am quite persuaded. ❞

❝ You take too much on yourself. ❞

❝ Help me dress. I’ll have a cup of wine as well, to clear my head. ❞

❝ Come sleep with me. Dawn will not come for hours yet. ❞

❝ He was a good brother. ❞

❝ Say the word, my sweet, and I will send you from this awful place. ❞

❝ I would sooner stay with you. I feel safe when I’m with you. ❞

❝ I want to keep you safe. ❞

❝ No one ever kept me safe when I was little. ❞

❝ 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. ❞

❝ We’ll both sleep, and dream of sweeter days. ❞

❝ Who would ever dare to love a dragon? ❞

❝ There is no woman more lovely than you. Only a blind man could believe otherwise. ❞

❝ A bath will help soothe me. ❞

❝ How did you get past my guards? ❞

❝ Your guards never saw me. ❞

❝ Why should I fear him? ❞

❝ If you have some warning for me, speak plainly. ❞

❝ Remember who you are. ❞

❝ I was praying. ❞

❝ Prophecies are treacherous. ❞

❝ If this is truly what my people wish, do I have the right to deny it to them? ❞

❝ Truth was never welcome at that court. ❞

❝ He was a traitor who met a traitor’s end. ❞

❝ He played a part in your father’s fall, but he bore you no ill will. ❞

❝ The king wanted you killed, but he spoke against it. ❞

❝ You think they would harm me? ❞

❝ 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? ❞

❝ I would give them back to you if I could, but some things are beyond the power of even a queen. ❞

❝ What have I unleashed upon the world? ❞

❝ If they are monsters, so am I. ❞

❝ Are they meant to inflame me? ❞

❝ Would my lord prefer something sweeter? ❞

❝ I will not trust you, but I need you. ❞

❝ A craven’s knife can slay a queen as easily as a hero’s. ❞

❝ He is playing games with me. But I can play as well. ❞

❝ I do not wish to speak of him. ❞

❝ Let us speak instead of love, of dreams and desire. ❞

❝ I am drunk with the sight of you. ❞

❝ Why did you abandon me? ❞

❝ I am almost certain that I asked you for your hand. Begged you, even. ❞

❝ You gave up too easily. ❞

❝ I must marry, all agree. ❞

❝ I am not so foolish as to wed a man who finds a fruit platter more enticing than my breast. ❞

❝ If you will not take me for your husband, I am content to be your slave. ❞

❝ I have been rained on and I have been sold. It is not the same. No one wants to be owned. ❞

❝ Is that meant to frighten me? I lived in fear for years. I woke afraid each morning and went to sleep afraid each night. ❞

❝ Let me stay and help persuade you. ❞

❝ You look . . . weary. Are you sleeping? ❞

❝ You know how much I value your wisdom. ❞

❝ You need a king beside you to help you bear these burdens. ❞

❝ Have you no smile for me? Am I as fearful as all that? ❞

❝ I always grow solemn in the presence of such beauty. ❞

❝ I have never wanted war. ❞

❝ You have not said you love me. ❞

❝ That is not the answer of a man in love. ❞

❝ What is love? Desire? No man could ever look on you and not desire you. ❞

❝ A new time has come, and new things are possible. Marry me. ❞

❝ Kiss me as if I were your wife. ❞

❝ No. I do not love you. ❞

❝ It’s him I want, not you. ❞

❝ One day all men must die, but it serves no good to dwell on death. I prefer to take each day as it comes. ❞

❝ Words are wind, even words like love and peace. I put more trust in deeds. ❞

❝ So it seems that I may wed again. Are you happy for me? ❞

❝ A queen belongs not to herself, but to the realm. ❞

❝ Marriage or carnage, those are my choices. ❞

❝ Did he wed for love or duty? ❞

❝ I know he was very fond of her. ❞

❝ I could become fond of him, in time. ❞

❝ I need to change, to make myself beautiful. ❞

❝ You have grown more beautiful in my absence. How is that possible? ❞

❝ I have missed you so much. ❞

❝ They never told me you were here, or I might have played the fool and sent for you at once. ❞

❝ I have only one urgent need. You. ❞

❝ A man surrounded by foes cannot defend himself. No, when faced with many enemies, choose the weakest, kill him, ride over him and escape. ❞

❝ He is as bold as he is bloody. ❞

❝ He is a monster. A gallant monster, but a monster still. ❞

❝ Do you take me for the Butcher King? ❞

❝ Better the butcher than the meat. ❞

❝ All kings are butchers. Are queens so different? ❞

❝ Most queens have no purpose but to warm some king’s bed and pop out sons for him. ❞

❝ Have you forgotten who I am? ❞

❝ He would make a monster of me. A butcher queen. ❞

❝ There is blood on my hands, too, and on my heart. ❞

❝ I am tired of hearing what you will not do. ❞

❝ Will they joust for me? I should like that. ❞

❝ He plays you for a fool. Do you want a serpent in your bed? ❞

❝ You could not have saved them. ❞

❝ Oh, gods, what have I done? Have I sent him to his death? ❞

❝ I have no more help to give. ❞

❝ I will not turn away from them. A queen must know the sufferings of her people. ❞

❝ I cannot heal them, but I can show them that I care. ❞

❝ Shall I wash your hair? ❞

❝ All those pearls will make me rattle when I walk. ❞

❝ The pearls symbolize fertility. The more a woman wears, the more healthy children she will bear. ❞

❝ Your clothes are stained with blood. Take them off. ❞

❝ Only if you do the same. ❞

❝ I thought you would be the one to betray me. I thought . . . ❞

❝ Promise me that you will never turn against me. I could not bear that. Promise me. ❞

❝ I wanted you from the first time I saw you. ❞

❝ You boasted that you’d had a hundred women. ❞

❝ He has a sellsword’s conscience. That is to say, none at all. ❞

❝ I would give up my crown if he asked it of me. ❞

❝ If I gave up my crown, he would not want me. ❞

❝ I do not want this night to end. ❞

❝ Marry me instead. ❞

❝ You know I cannot do that. ❞

❝ You are a queen. You can do what you like. ❞

❝ Marry me, and we can have all the nights forever. ❞

❝ We cannot wed, my love. You know why. ❞

❝ Once I am wed it will be high treason to desire me. ❞

❝ It has been too long since I’ve killed a man. Might be I should seek out your betrothed. ❞

❝ Are you unwell? In the black of night I heard you scream. ❞

❝ It was the wind that you heard screaming. ❞

❝ It was just a dream. Go back to sleep. ❞

❝ She dares say that in open court? ❞

❝ That smile has won many a maiden’s heart, I’ll wager. ❞

❝ Please, you must not tease me. ❞

❝ Come back to bed and kiss me. ❞

❝ The queen your mother was always mindful of her duty. ❞

❝ A knight is no fit consort for a princess of royal blood. ❞

❝ I never knew my father. I want to know everything about him. The good and . . . the rest. ❞

❝ If he loved you, he would come and carry you off. ❞

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

❝ This is peace, so why does it taste so much like defeat? ❞

❝ I want no gifts from you. ❞

❝ There is no honor in him, only hunger . . . for gold, for glory, for blood. ❞

❝ Every child knows its mother. ❞

❝ They are dragons, and so am I. ❞

❝ You have more enemies than you know. ❞

❝ Gods grant that we have made a son tonight. ❞

❝ I heard you crying. ❞

❝ Crying? I was not crying. Why would I cry? ❞

❝ Stay. I do not wish to be alone. ❞

❝ Remind me that there is still good in the world. ❞

❝ I will have you beside me, what other protection do I need? ❞

❝ How much of this do you believe? ❞

❝ I am looking into hell, but I dare not look away. ❞

❝ He takes great pride in his . . . his swordsmanship. ❞

❝ He boasts of bedding me, you mean. ❞

❝ Once I dreamed of flying. ❞

❝ Men are mad and gods are madder. ❞

❝ You are dead. ❞

❝ You never mourned me. It is hard to die unmourned. ❞

❝ I loved you once. ❞

❝ I waited long enough. I waited my whole life. ❞

❝ You lingered in a place that you were never meant to be. ❞

❝ Home was all I ever wanted. ❞

❝ You wanted me. ❞

❝ I was tired. I was weary of war. I wanted to rest, to laugh, to plant trees and see them grow. ❞

❝ Remember who you are, what you were made to be. ❞

#rp memes #rp prompts #roleplay prompts #roleplay memes #inbox memes #rp prompt #inbox prompts #[memes ; for muse]#[memes ; mine]#[memes ; general]#[memes ; sentence]

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yourlocalnetizen · 5 months

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What you're favorite Targaryen Dragon/Rider bond says about you.

Daenerys/Drogon - You are very attached to your pets. You love them like your babies. Or you may just like joint slays between icons.

Aegon/Balerion - You like things simple and reliable.

Visenya/Vhagar - You support women's wrongs.

Rhaenys/Meraxes - All you want to do is fly a dragon, and/or you're a horse girl.

Aenys/Quicksilver - You think having a dragon as a pet would be nice.

Aegon/Quicksilver - You're a dumbass probably.

Maegor/Balerion - You wanna commit crimes.

Rhaena/Dreamfyre - You love women, and only women.

Jaehaerys/Vermithor - You've thought of yourself as an Alpha male before.

Alysanne/Silverwing - You have good vibes.

Aerea/Balerion - You are/were a rebellious child.

Alyssa/Meleys - You're a horse girl.

Baelon/Vhagar - You probably liked Pokemon as a kid.

Aemon/Caraxes - You love the idea of a beautiful Angel bonding with a terrifying creature.

Daemon/Caraxes - You think those who slay together, stay together.

Aemond/Vhagar - You like how they bring out the worst of each other.

Daeron/Tessarion - You like pretty boys, pretty animals, and joint slays.

Helaena/Dreamfyre - You're lost in you're own world 90% of the time.

Aegon/Sunfyre - You want to be loved unconditionally.

Rhaenyra/Syrax - If they're your favorite... you are a show only watcher (or show only enjoyer).

Viserys/Balerion - You don't exist lmho.

Rhaenys/Meleys - You like girlbosses.

Laena/Vhagar - You like the idea of owning an atomic bomb just for funsies.

Laenor/Seasmoke - You love the gays.

Addam/Seasmoke - You value loyalty.

Baela/Moondancer - You're also a horse girl.

Rhaena/Morning - Barbie is your idol.

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khazzman · 2 months

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Sometimes I think of Jaime Lannister.

Not the Kingslayer, but the Exile. The Lannister who stayed loyal to the end. The Lion who fled his pride to protect scared little children. They make him swear and swear and swear, and he vows to defend the innocent. For that he slays a king, for that he saves one.

I think about the Jaime Lannister who Daenerys Targaryen grows up knowing as "Nuncle Jaime" and who trusts no one more in the world than him.

#asoiaf #jaime lannister #alternate universe

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yenneferdivengerberg · 2 years

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Daenerys Targaryen in Game of Thrones 3.03: “Walk of Punishment”

Valar morghulis translates to "all men must die" in High Valyrian. It is a customary saying in Essos that is traditionally answered with "valar dohaeris," meaning "all men must serve."

➙Dany turned away from him, to the slave girl standing meekly beside her litter. “Do you have a name, or must you draw a new one every day from some barrel?” “That is only for Unsullied,” the girl said. Then she realized the question had been asked in High Valyrian. Her eyes went wide. “Oh.” “Your name is Oh?” “No. Your Grace, forgive this one her outburst. Your slave’s name is Missandei, but...” “Missandei is no longer a slave. I free you, from this instant. Come ride with me in the litter, I wish to talk.” Rakharo helped them in, and Dany drew the curtains shut against the dust and heat. “If you stay with me you will serve as one of my handmaids,” she said as they set off. “I shall keep you by my side to speak for me as you spoke for Kraznys. But you may leave my service whenever you choose, if you have father or mother you would sooner return to.” “This one will stay,” the girl said.“ This one...I...there is no place for me to go. This...I will serve you, gladly.” “I can give you freedom, but not safety,” Dany warned. “I have a world to cross and wars to fight. You may go hungry. You may grow sick. You may be killed.” “Valar morghulis,” said Missandei, in High Valyrian. “All men must die,” Dany agreed, “but not for a long while, we may pray.” She leaned back on the pillows and took the girl’s hand. “Are these Unsullied truly fearless?” “Yes, Your Grace.” “You serve me now. Is it true they feel no pain?” “The wine of courage kills such feelings. By the time they slay their sucklings, they have been drinking it for years.” “And they are obedient?” “Obedience is all they know. If you told them not to breathe, they would find that easier than not to obey.”

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catofadifferentcolor · 6 months

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Terrible Fic Idea #75: Rhaegar Wins, but make it Le Morte d'Arthur

Having done two takes on what can roughly be called Lancelot-Guinevere AUs where things end more or less well for our heroes, I thought: why not go all out? why not have the affair be the downfall of the Targaryen Dynasty?

Or: What if Jon Snow, the infamous bastard son of King Rhaegar, had an affair with his aunt, Princess Daenerys?

Aka: The Duncan the Damned Fic

Just imagine it:

Everything follows canon until the Battle of the Trident, during which Prince Rhaegar slays Robert Baratheon in single combat, ending the rebellion. He leads his forces and those of the rebels who submit to him against his father in King's Landing - and is forced to kill the Mad King when he calls for the wildfire caches to be lit. Although everyone agrees he did the right thing, he's forever known as Rhaegar the Kinslayer and many whisper his line is cursed.

Ned Stark is severely injured trying to rescue Robert at the Trident and as such is unable to retrieve Lyanna from the Tower of Joy. Rhaegar sends Prince Lewyn instead...

...who returns with his three brothers-in-arms, a baby boy, and the bones of the King's paramour. It's hard to say which of the latter the King is most angry about. In the end he orders a great mausoleum built over the Dragonpit to house Lyanna's bones and leaves the raising of the bastard to his mother.

Dowager Queen Rhaella is thrilled to have another child to raise, regardless of how the babe came about. (She's less thrilled her son is so disinterested in the boy that it falls to her to name the child over half-a-year after his birth; she calls him Duncan, after her favorite uncle.) She raises Dany and Duncan together until Dany is old enough to be brought to court... and Duncan stays in more or less exile with his grandmother in the shadow of Summerhall as builders work to return he castle to its former glory.

Duncan is raised to knighthood by Oswell Whent, Rhaella's protector and lover during her self-imposed exile. While he does the job as well any could hope, he teaches young Duncan that getting the job done is more important than how you do it - in short, that gallantry is all well and good, but it's better to be dishonorable and alive than dead with a song.

And so the bastard prince who visits at the Red Keep for the first time in 298 has more in line with The Rogue Prince than any of his Stark forbearers. He's dashing, daring, and dangerous - the exact opposite of his half-brother Aegon, who is gallant and chivalrous and brave, but decidedly lacking the bad boy aura.

Meanwhile, Rhaegar hasn't given up on his prophesy. Deciding that his sister Daenerys must be the third head of the dragon, he arranges for Aegon to wed both his sister Rhaenys and aunt Daenerys, which causes many a discontent murmur.

Having been spoon-fed prophesy since birth, Aegon goes willingly along with his father's plan, but Rhaenys is less eager to be one of a pair of sister-queens and Dany...

...well, Dany takes one look at her bastard nephew, so different from his brother, and fancies herself in love.

Duncan for his part is more than a little peeved that his goodie-two-shoes half-brother gets all their father's attention and two royal wives. He choses to pursue Dany as much to get one over on the family that ignored him as any lust he may feel.

Dany and Duncan carry on an affair that is as much passion as it is destruction. It is deeply unhealthy for everyone involved and hits every unhealthy relationship milestone, from Duncan flirting with Rhaenys to make Dany jealous to Dany poisoning herself to get Duncan's attention back and blaming her rivals.

This manages to go on for about five years without anyone too important finding out - though Rhaenys suspects and at least one member of the court attempted to blackmail Duncan over it before succumbing to an accident - when several things happen all at once:

Dany and Rhaenys announce they're finally pregnant within several weeks of each other. Rhaenys gives birth first, to a pair of stillborn abominations with wings. Dany gives birth a short time later to a child that has such Stark looks its impossible to deny his parentage.

An argument breaks out between Aegon, Rhaegar, and Duncan which quickly grows heated. At the end of it Rhaegar lies dead, with no one quite sure whether Aegon or Duncan had landed the fatal blow. The brothers point fingers at each other and order the other jailed for kingslaying.

Things very quickly break down into civil war as both brothers vie for the crown. Duncan manages to hold King's Landing, but Aegon has Dragonstone and superiority of numbers. Even so, Duncan is ruthless and cunning enough that he just might be able to pull off a victory-

-or would have, if Dany didn't start working at cross purposes to him, their relationship very quickly falling apart without the danger and excitement to hold them together. Dany ends up betraying King's Landing to Aegon's forces during a siege, fully expecting to be reinstated as Aegon's second queen after the war ends. Duncan is killed in the fighting and Dany is executed for treason and adultery. Their son, Daeron, is kept as a hostage until he's old enough to be sent to the Wall.

Aegon manages to hold onto the throne for the rest of his life, but he's faced with more outbreaks of rebellion as people finally rebel against House Targaryen, their wars, and the taxes they've leveed to pay for those wars. What's more, Rhaenys never manages to give birth to a living child (some claiming poison, others claiming inbreeding), so that his only heir is his bastard nephew - who quite simply vanishes from the record before his tenth birthday. (Many historians believe he was killed, but there is a strong King Under the Mountain mythology that grows up around him.)

House Targaryen eventually collapses - not with a bang, but a whimper - when Aegon dies in his mid-30s after choking on a fishbone. Rhaenys tries to hold the throne in her own right, but years of fruitless childbirths has wreaked her health and she's very quickly captured, imprisoned, and quietly killed. The Seven Kingdoms eventually devolve into seven separate kingdoms, not to be reunited for another five hundred years.

Bonuses include: 1) Something fatalistic running throughout the narrative, with Rhaegar planning his whole life for an apocalypse that doesn't come - and allowing everything his house built to come to ruin; 2) The full gambit of toxic relationships, including but not limited to: Rhaegar treating Aegon from a young age as a hero in waiting who can do no wrong, Rhaegar treating Duncan as irrelevant to the plot for not being born a girl, and Dany and Duncan's deeply unhealthy romance; and 3) There being a moment after Aegon captures King's Landing where it's possible for Duncan to escape with his son and live to fight another day and in that same moment realizing Dany betrayed him... and rather than choosing to escape, is killed trying to get back into the Red Keep to kill the mother of his child.

And that's all I have. As always, feel free to adopt this bun, just link back if you do anything with it.

More Terrible Fic Ideas

#plot bunny #fic ideas #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #got #asoiaf #jon snow #jon snow is a targaryen #jon x daenerys #daenerys targeryan #rhaegar targaryen #rhaegar x lyanna #aegon son of elia #rhaenys daughter of elia #secret affair #secret relationship #unhealthy relationships

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daenystheedreamer · 1 year

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omaegorverse cringe below

ok so im on the SECOND generation of targs now. jaehaerys married a hightower (ceryse's niece) as a Sorry We Did Polygamy and to curry favour with the faith. they had six kids: Aegon, Aerion, Helaena, Viserys, Daenerys, Maegelle.

helaena is helen of troy and aegon+aerion fight over her (they do a little trojan war<3 peasants die cos this family is psychosexually insane!!). aegon is the heir and a tradcath and aerion(named for aerea) is an insane second son also they are twins. aerion murdered the high septon at 14/15ish because the bastard was abusing helaena, but because of sexism etc there cant be any implication of helaena being 'impure'(scream!!!) so he couldnt really explain himself and got exiled to essos as a 14yo and it made him extra crazy!!! aegon is insane cos he's his mother's favourite and his daddy doesnt care about him enough and his brother is the cool bad boy. helaena is insane because she was essentially forced into an identity from birth and she has never been allowed to explore herself! she's simply The Maiden The Beauty The Princess!!

maegelle's birth was magicaly heralded by the deaths of like a bunch of her realtives (maegor, viserys, daenys LMAO rip) and shes haunted cursed psychologically tortured by them. her Daenys the YinOC slay....

the two im still not sure on are viserys and daenerys. viserys becomes king after his brothers die but idk his personality yet? hmmm hes the spare! hes ignored by his family until they all fucking die and hes left as The Most Important Man In The Kingdom. ooo i think im gonna make him the first one to Really feel the monstrous effects of their monstrous births... hes gonna be a lil vampire!!!

ooo and im gonna make daenerys desperate for old valyria!! for their real home... westeros destroyed them but valyria is totally good and perfect they would have been FINE if theyd just stayed in valyria!!! who knows maybe the doom was BECAUSE they left...

plus their cousins:

viserra married lord lannister and had a fucked up like femdom petplay thing with him and all the westerlands hate her and shes like um but he likes the fucking strap? sorry youre all sex negative :/ argue with the dragonfire LMAO and she had twins (Jocasta and Jason) who are fucked up in the brain cos of their fucked up mum and cos their dad killed himself on the day of their birth :/ also jocasta marries aegon

after the death of lord lannister, maegor held a tourney for the right to marry the widowed viserra and lord lucamore strong(lucamore the lusty of the kingsguard in canon) won!! so viserra went to harrenhal with him and they had five fucked up weirdo kids (Saera, Shiera, Shaena, Lucas and Victarion). i wanted to name lucas lucifer but i thought that was taking it too far. i still might actually

daenys married lord stark (an oc younger brother of walton and alaric. in this au the starks did a rebellion and walton and alaric got killed that way rip alaric sorry u couldnt fuck alysanne) and had NINE kids with him (Serena, Alarra, Alaric, Brandon, Berena, Edderion, Cregan, Sara and Torrhen) PLUS a miscarriage after serena (Arra). she also has a classic targ monstrous stillbirth!! after the murder-murder-murder of Daenys/Maegor/Viserys, three monstrous babies tear themselves from her womb (i named the little weirdos Danelle, Theon and Jo). jaehaerys hacks them to death</3

a part of this au is as the family tree grows through the years, the targ line starts infecting basically every house. since omaegorverse targs inbreed SLIGHTLY less and marry out more, the insanity spreads and the inherent sins of westerosi society is made apparent. i♡physical manifestations of moral rot.

idk how this all ends, right now im just having fun writing fucked up and psychologically tortured targ waifs. probably the long night will happen and everyone will die :) ooo and maybe its an infinite cycle maybe its just another reset and it all starts over again hee hee!!!

#au:omaegorverse

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bitterblue-nymph · 11 months

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A Targaryen Sits The Throne Again || Daenerys GOT fix-it fic

A/N: hello! I am new to this and posting this is going to be a huge risk because the fandom is divided on opinion on S8 but I wrote this just for my own satisfaction! I hope anyone who comes across this will like it!

Word Count: 5k

No Pairings!

The dragon queen stood on the balcony of her pyramid palace, gazing down at the city of Mereen below with a small smile on her face. She had everything she had aimed for in the west but now she needed to head to her homeland and reclaim her family’s throne. She had heard that Tommen Baratheon now sat on her father’s throne and a rage she hadn’t felt in years reclaimed her breast.

Candles began to ignite as the sun set and Daenerys made up her mind. Turning from the balcony, the dragon queen walked back into her chambers and smiled as Missandei stood waiting for her. “I am going to Westeros,” Daenerys announced suddenly, startling her friend and trusted advisor.

“Yes, your grace, but for that we need ships,” Missandei spoke with slight confusion in her voice before she saw the smile on her queen’s lips, “you have a plan, your grace?”

Daenerys’s smile only grew and she nodded. “My dragons are fully grown, I have trusted advisors that I will need in Westeros, especially Tyrian Lannister but I can have as many ships as I need much sooner,” the Targaryen spoke, her mind set on her plan, “would you follow me across the great sea to the land of my ancestors? Will you go or will this be our parting day?”

Missandei faltered at the mention of flying but she regained herself and nodded to Daenerys, “I am bound to you in debt with my life, Khaleesi, I will follow you.”

Daenerys smiled and nodded, walking over to her and clasping her hands together, looking deep into the girls eyes. “Gather my advisors, this is to be a long night of planning,” Daenerys whispered softly.

It was decided that Daenerys would stay in Mereen for two more months after that night while some ships were speedily being built by the best carpenters of Mereen. The dragon queen watched Jorah very carefully after he had expressed his concern of her leaving Mereen for her better future in Westeros. Daario had been a comfort to Dany as she watched the ships being built day by day.

On the night before she would fly for Westeros, she sat up in bed with Daario and stared out of the window. “I cannot sleep,” she whispered into the dark, knowing that Daario couldn’t sleep either.

“We will sail for your birthright right behind you, my queen,” Daario replied, sitting up and pulling the dragon queen flush against him before pressing soft kisses to her neck and grinning at her slight flinch, “try to get as much sleep as you possibly can.”

With that, the soldier laid back down with Daenerys’s head on his chest and the hours sped by as she fell into a light slumber under the protection of her lover.

A knock the next morning signalled Missandei was up and ready and once she entered, the girl helped Daenerys into her riding outfit that she’d had custom made to last above the cold waters of the salt ocean.

“You look beautiful, your grace,” Missandei commented as she tied the last strap to Daenerys’s bodice, “Drogon landed in the harbour and the Unsullied are gathered as well, they await your order.”

Daenerys nodded and turned to look at Daario, who had gotten dressed as Missandei was talking, and sent him a wistful smile before departing her chambers to head down to the harbour.

As Missandei had described, many Unsullied had gathered in uniform lines, awaiting the commands of their Queen. With a shaky breath, Daenerys took the podium and looked over them before beginning her speech. “Unsullied!” she shouted, hearing the bang of spears as acknowledgement, “today I shall fly across the ocean to my homeland and slay the usurpers to reclaim my throne! Your general has spoken with you all and you know that a hundred of you shall be accompanying me! The rest shall listen to Jorah Mormont until a ship arrives back here with a fleet to deliver you to my palace!”

There was no verbal response, only the pounding of spears against the ground as Daenerys climbed onto Drogon and looked over the city of Mereen before grabbing onto Drogon and commanding him into the sky. The dragon roared and kicked off from the ground, keenly listening to his mother and batting his wings against the current of the wind. Once the ships left the harbour, Daenerys allowed Drogon to fly in the direction of Westeros.

The wind in her hair felt luxurious above the clouds, her hands reaching up into the sky, going into clouds and coming out as she allowed herself these small moments of peace. Daenerys Targaryen was heading back to her home, twenty years after the siege of Kings Landing by Robert Baratheon and the death of King Aerys Targaryen and her mother, Rhaella on Dragonstone.

The mother of dragons watched the ocean below, allowing Drogon to swoop low so he could dip his claws in and she smiled at his deep groan in appreciation. The dragon had never made such a journey before and neither had his brothers that were following behind. They had planned to land on a small island for a few hours and when they reached the island, Daenerys scanned it from the air before deciding that there was no threat and allowing her children to land.

Daenerys slipped off of Drogon’s back and examined the grass around her before striding down the beach to the edge of the ocean, watching as the water lapped at the edge.

Daenerys smiled as she made it to the beach. The ocean was a place of solace for her. She had spent many her childhood days on the beach in Volantis, dreaming of one day coming back to Westeros to reclaim her family's throne. The last twenty years had been full of struggle, but now she finally felt at peace. She knew she had a long journey ahead of her, but she was ready to face it head on.

Their trip to Kings Landing to overtake King Tommen would likely cost her many of her ranks. Somehow, she was glad that she only brought three hundred Unsullied with her. Even with such small numbers, the men in their iron suits would still suffer by her hand and dragon breath. They'd expect her to head to Dragonstone first as a base but Daenerys knew that she would be better off attacking the Capital if she wanted this seige over quickly.

This was a major part of her strategy. By attacking the capital directly, she would surprise her enemies and catch them off guard. Her Unsullied were well trained and disciplined, and with her three dragons at her command, she had an overwhelming force that her opponents would be hard-pressed to beat. She knew that her enemy would put up a fierce fight, but she was confident that she could outmaneuver them and take the Iron Throne once and for all.

Seeing the sails of the ships in the horizon, Daenerys jumped onto Drogon's back and gripped his spines before the dragon took off into the sky. Daenerys clung to her dragon as the wind whipped at her hair and they began their journey to Westeros again.

They flew for hours, Daenerys clinging to her dragon the whole time. It was a perilous journey, but they eventually made it to the shores of Westeros. As they landed, Daenerys felt a surge of excitement course through her. She was back on her ancestral home, and she was ready to reclaim what was rightfully hers. No one could defeat her now, not with her dragons at her command. She would take the Iron Throne and restore the Targaryen dynasty to its rightful place of power.

She could see King's Landing growing larger in the distance as they approached. She felt a surge of excitement mixed with nerves as she prepared herself for the battle to come.She was determined to not let anything stop her from retaking the Iron Throne. Her dragons were her most powerful weapon and she intended to use them to their fullest extent. She took a deep breath and knelt to feel the sand on the beach of Westeros.

She knelt and crumpled some sand in her hand, feeling the spirits of past Targaryens at her side, propelling her forward to carry on with her task. She would wait until nightfall when her ships would arrive and by morning, she will be at the gates to Kings Landing to punish the usurpers and the kingslayer.

That night Daenerys felt a sudden rush of adrenaline as her ships neared the shore. She knew that her enemies were waiting for her, and that this battle would be a difficult one. But she was confident in the strength of her army and her dragons, and she was determined to take back the Iron Throne at any cost. She gave one final look back at her ships before turning her attention to the city. This was what she had fought so hard for, and she was ready to take what was rightfully hers.

Her Unsullied followed behind as she made her way towards the city gates. She was met by a group of Lannister warriors, who drew their swords and prepared to fight. They had been anticipating her arrival, and they knew that she would be a formidable opponent. But Daenerys was not deterred by their threats. She raised her sword in the air as her Unsullied raised their spears, and they charged towards the gates with a deafening roar from her dragons overhead.

Drogon's flames exploded across the city, incinerating the archers and any other enemies in his path. He was a powerful force, and he had already caused significant damage to the city in a short span of time. But Daenerys knew that her dragon was not invincible, and she would need to be careful to keep him out of harm's way. Her Unsullied continued to push forward and fight off the Lannister forces as Drogon flew above them, raining fire down on their ranks.

The arrows whistled through the air as Drogon flew towards the Red Keep. Daenerys ducked as she felt them brush by her head, and she could hear the screams of the archers as they desperately tried to flee from the burning dragon. She landed at the entrance of the keep, her Unsullied surrounding her as they prepared to face whatever lay within. She looked up at the Red Keep's towers, her heart racing in anticipation. This was it. After all these years, she was finally here. Now it was time to take back what was hers.

Tommen, upon hearing Daenerys's threat, reluctantly decided to surrender and come out to face her. He knew that he had no chance of defeating her and her dragons in battle, and so he figured it would be better to give up peacefully rather than face certain death.

He walked out of the Red Keep with his hands raised in surrender, and Daenerys's Unsullied surrounded him, pointing their spears at him. Daenerys looked at him with a mixture of anger and disgust, her eyes blazing with fury. She had spent years planning for this moment of vengeance, and now she would finally get to enact it.

"You stand in the presence of Daenerys Targaryen, first of her name, true heir to the Iron Throne," Daenerys spoke, tilting her head with a show of power as Drogon roared behind her, "Unsullied, go find Cersei Lannister and drag her outside, she needs to repent for her crimes."

The Unsullied nodded and set off to complete their task, while Tommen looked on with fear in his eyes. He knew that he was at Daenerys's mercy, and she could do with him as she pleased.

Daenerys's rage was palpable as she stared down at Tommen, her body trembling with anger. She was going to make him pay for what he and his father had done to her family, and she would not rest until he had suffered for his crimes. Tommen could see the hatred in her eyes and knew that he was in for a fate worse than death.

"What do you know of my lineage, Boy King?" Daenerys asked Tommen, fire in her eyes as she stepped toward him and pointed the tip of her sword to his throat.

Tommen froze in fear as the point of Dany's sword pressed against his neck. He knew that she could easily end his life in an instant, and he had no real way of defending himself from her attack. He stared up at her with a mixture of fear and defiance, unable to say anything except for a faint, "...nothing..."

"You speak lies just as your mother did," Daenerys sneered, stepping closer and lowering her blade, kneeling to take a clump of Tommen's golden hair between her fingers, "the Baratheon hair genes are strong and yet Cersei births three blonde children. Impossible unless... they're bastards."

Tommen's face went white with shock as he realized what Dany was saying. He had never considered that his mother might have been unfaithful to Robert Baratheon, and for a moment he felt as though he was going to be sick. He was at a loss for words and he simply shook his head in denial, unable to speak the truth that Daenerys had just revealed.

"No?" Daenerys hummed, standing when she saw her troops dragging out Cersei Lannister. "Lets ask her," she growled, stepping up to the blonde King Mother, "Cersei Lannister. You realise incest is punishable by death. Who did you have your children with? Was it your brother? Or your cousin?"

Cersei's eyes widened in fear as she was pulled forward by the Unsullied. She looked on in horror as Daenerys approached her, her eyes filled with hatred and fear. She knew that she would not be able to get out of this unscathed.

The Lannister looked at Daenerys and then at Tommen, and then back at Daenerys, the terror in her eyes growing with each passing moment. "I am innocent of these charges," she sneered, "You have no proof that my children are the product of incest."

"I said to Tommen that his hair is unnaturally blonde for a Baratheon," Dany commented with a light giggle, her voice laced with venom as she spoke bitterly, "how, when Robert Baratheon's bastards have brown hair, does his legitimate children have blonde hair like their mother unless they're bastards and incestuous bastards at that."

Cersei's face went pale as she processed the evidence that was being presented to her. She could feel her stomach turn as she realized that she had been found out. She had been so careful to keep her secret, but now it was all coming out in the open. She had no way of denying the accusations, and she knew that she was going to have to face the consequences of her actions.

"Unsullied, take away the Usurpers, I shall deal with them later," Daenerys ordered before entering the Red Keep for the first time.

The Unsullied followed Daenerys's order and took Cersei and Tommen away, leaving them to await their punishment. Daenerys was now in control of the capital, and she intended to make sure that the message was sent loud and clear that the House of Targaryen was back in power. She knew that she would have many enemies, especially among those who had supported her enemies, and she would need to be cautious in order to consolidate her power and protect herself from those who wished her ill.

Daenerys walked through the halls of the Red Keep and took in the smells that she could smell. She was surrounded by the spirits of her ancestors, welcoming her home as she made her way to the throne room. Power coursed through her veins as she took in the sight of the Iron Throne before her, a seat that had held her family for centuries.

Daenerys stood in awe of the Iron Throne, taking in its majestic appearance and considering the power that it represented. She felt her ancestors' presence all around her, and she knew that she had been called to this place for a reason. It was the symbol of her family's power, and it would be her seat as queen. She took a moment to breathe in the power and the history of the throne, and then she ascended the steps and took her place on the Iron Throne. She felt unstoppable, and she was determined to prove herself to be a worthy successor to her ancestors.

Daenerys watched as people began to file into the throne room, Lord and commoner alike curious about this new Queen. Missandei walked past the crowd and took her spot at the foot of the stairs leading to the Iron Throne proudly and announced, "you stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, first of her name, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, the breaker of chains, Khaleesi of the great grass sea, protector of the seven kingdoms and the mother of dragons. Bend the knee or die with the old age."

The room fell silent as everyone turned their eyes towards Daenerys. She sat on the Iron Throne, her head held high and her eyes burning with determination. The crowd seemed awestruck by her presence, and she could feel their respect for her growing with each passing moment. She gave Missandei a smile of gratitude and then turned her attention towards the crowd.

The people looked on in awe and fear at the sight of the new Queen. Some immediately kneeled, while others looked at her with confusion and uncertainty. Daenerys rose to her feet, her eyes blazing with determination and power, and she spoke to the crowd in a loud and clear voice. "I am the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, and I am here to retake what is rightfully mine,” she proclaimed, her words ringing out throughout the room. “If you wish to live, you will kneel and swear your allegiance to me."

The crowd all bent the knee and bowed their heads to their new ruler; Daenerys Targaryen. The Dragon Queen stood straight and looked over her subjects with a blank expression before she began to speak again, "my coronation shall be a week from now, in the ruins of the dragon pit! I shall honour my family's traditions or coronating there!"

The crowd cheered at Daenerys's words, their enthusiasm evident as they chanted, "Queen! Queen! Queen!" Daenerys raised her hand in acknowledgment of the crowd's support, and she could feel the immense responsibility that was now upon her shoulders. She knew that she had big shoes to fill, but she was ready for the challenge. She had spent her whole life dreaming of this day, and she was not going to let anything stop her from succeeding in reclaiming her rightful place on the Iron Throne.

Daenerys watched as the crowd then began to leave the throne room to spread the word and she looked to Missandei with a smile. "Follow me," she whispered before leaving through a side door down into the crypts. Once there, she stood before the skull of Balerion, the largest dragon in centuries. "This was ridden by King Jaehearys Targaryen centuries ago and then King Viserys for a few short years before his death," Daenerys spoke to Missandei, a small smile on her face, "I wonder if that is how big my dragons shall grow to be."

Missandei looked on in reverence at the skull of Balerion, the powerful dragon that had once soared through the sky. She had heard much about this legendary dragon throughout the years, and to see its remains in the flesh was truly a moving experience. She was reminded of the legacy of the Targaryen's and the power that their dragons once wielded, and she felt a sense of pride and admiration for what Daenerys was able to achieve in reclaiming her family's throne. She was glad to be part of this historic moment, and she remained silent as Daenerys paid her respects to her ancestor's legacy.

"Now that I have Kings Landing secured, I shall need to affirm my allies to ensure prosperity for my Kingdom," Daenerys realised, guiding Missandei back to the throne room, "have a maester send a raven to Lady Olenna Tyrell, I am in need of her alliance of Highgarden."

"Of course, Your Grace," Missandei said with a respectful bow before turning to go and complete Daenerys's command. It was clear that there was much work to be done if Daenerys was to ensure stability in her new realm, but she knew that she had the strength and perseverance to see it through. She was ready to lead the Seven Kingdoms into a new era, and she knew that with her allies at her side, there was nothing that could stop her from achieving her goal of restoring her house's true glory.

Daenerys smiled and left the throne room, walking around the ancient halls of her family and only stopped when she spotted a finely dressed lady heading her way. "Lady Margaery Tyrell," Daenerys greeted her with a gentle smile, watching as the woman dropped into a curtsy, "I apologise for arresting your husband but I have more claim than he, I hope you understand. You will be allowed to remain here if you wish or return to Highgarden with your..." her eyes drifted to Margaery's stomach, "heir."

Margaery looked up at the new Queen with a mixture of fear and respect. She had heard rumours about Daenerys's ambitions, but she had never expected to be face to face with her. She was impressed by the new Queen's powerful presence and her confidence in her claim to the Iron Throne, and she knew that it would be wise to pledge her allegiance to her. "I am grateful for your mercy, and I promise that I will serve you faithfully and loyally as you rule the Seven Kingdoms. I hope we will be able to work together to build a better future for this realm under your leadership."

Daenerys gave Margaery another smile before continuing on her path. So many doors, portraits and artefacts that her ancestors had passed without a care were now appreciated by the new Queen who had never seen it before. Her brother, Viserys, before his death had spoken of the golden halls nightly but that had just been his childish memory and glorification of the Keep. Viserys was a fool, Daenerys was a Queen.

The halls of the Red Keep were full of history and grandeur, and Daenerys was grateful that she had the opportunity to explore them and experience what her ancestors had once built. She knew that she had a duty to honor their legacy, and she was determined to do just that. The power of her ancestry radiated from the very walls of this place, and she felt a deep sense of pride in knowing that she would one day walk in their footsteps as Queen and rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms.

A memory resurfaced in Daenerys's mind of the witch who had made her infertile after her bargain to save Khal Drogo. Clicking her tongue, Daenerys headed to where she knew there was a septa and allowed him to bow before she spoke, "I wish to be cleansed of curses. I am a Targaryen and need my lineage to continue with an heir. I am currently cursed with infertility, mayhaps you can fix it?"

The septa's eyes widened as he heard Daenerys's request, and he looked at her with sympathy and concern. He knew that the Targaryens were a proud and powerful family, and he could understand why a curse of infertility would be a source of great distress and disappointment for someone who had been raised on all the prestige and privilege that came with being a part of such a prestigious lineage. He was determined to do all he could to help Daenerys overcome this curse, and he hoped that his knowledge of the old ways and sacred rituals would provide her with the help that she so desperately needed.

Daenerys allowed the septa to guide her to a bed where she stripped to her chemise and then she laid on the bed. The septa began the rituals and incantations that had been passed down for countless generations in the hopes of removing the curse upon Daenerys. He knew that if the gods were feeling merciful and the incantations were performed correctly, they might choose to remove the curse and restore Daenerys's fertility so that she might one day bear a son to carry her legacy and the Targaryen bloodline forward into the future.

After what felt like hours, a pressure Daenerys didn't know she felt disappeared and she sat up, feeling her abdomen tenderly. "I thank you, septa," Daenerys whispered, slipping off the bed and taking the robe the septa offered her, "long live House Targaryen."

The septa smiled at Daenerys and said, "In the name of the Father, the Mother, and the seven Blessings, I bless you with fertility and the ability to bear a son that will carry forward your legacy and that of your House. May you live long and prosper as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms."

Daenerys smiled and left the septa, making her journey to the chambers that long ago belonged to Rhaenyra Targaryen, the half year Queen. Daenerys felt a connection to this particular Targaryen and so, claimed her rooms as the Queen's Quarters and ordered for tailors to come measure her for a new wardrobe fit for a Targaryen Queen. Happy with herself, the Queen took herself to bed and slept soundly for the first time in years.

~~~

Days later, her wardrobe was ready and Missandei joined her when she went to view what the royal tailor had come up with. They were magnificent, composed of fine silks, furs, and fabrics that were woven in the colours of her house with intricate dragon motifs. The tailors had worked tirelessly during her first days in the capital to create a wardrobe worthy of a Targaryen Queen, and they had done an amazing job in crafting her a wardrobe that would reflect the dignity and power of her newly-claimed position. When Daenerys put on her new clothing for the first time, she felt an immense sense of pride and admiration for the craftsmen who had created them and for the heritage and legacy that they reflected.

Daenerys turned to Missandei for her opinion and grabbed her skirts, twirling for her friend childishly, knowing that she could only be herself with Missandei and perhaps Daario. Missandei smiled at her Queen's show of excitement and pride over her new wardrobe and she gave it her stamp of approval. She knew how much pressure and responsibility Daenerys had upon her shoulders, so it was good to see her taking this time to let her hair down and be herself for a moment. Missandei was one of the few people that Daenerys had been able to trust throughout her life, and she was touched to see her friend finally able to find a moment of peace amidst all the chaos and turmoil of her taking back the Iron Throne.

As Daenerys finished her twirl, a guard opened the door and stepped inside. "Your Grace," he began with a bow, "Lady Olenna has arrived."

Daenerys froze and then sighed, hugging her friend goodbye before following the guard to the throne room. "Send her in," she ordered the guard, who nodded and walked to the grand doors.

Olenna Tyrell entered the throne room in all her grandeur and splendor, her presence demanding respect and attention from all who beheld her. She was a force to be reckoned with, and Daenerys knew that she would need to tread carefully when dealing with her. However, she was also a powerful ally, and she would need to find a way to win her favor and gain her support if she was to achieve her goals. As Olenna came forward and bowed deeply before the Queen, she made a mental note to tread carefully but still stand her ground despite her admiration for the powerful Lady of Highgarden.

"My sympathies to you for your granddaughter losing the throne but hopefully we can move past this setback and see a prosperous future alliance," Daenerys spoke, her voice regal and full of power, "if the Lady Margaery produces a son for Tommen Lannister, I would happily betrothe him to the first daughter I produce."

Olenna was taken aback by Daenerys's words, but she knew the importance of forging alliances and building strong relationships in order to maintain stability in the realm. She was also wise enough to recognize that Daenerys was not the type of Queen to be messed with, and she was impressed by the new Queen's display of authority and power. She respected her as a worthy adversary and was willing to work with her to ensure a prosperous future for their respective Houses. She gave a stiff nod to Daenerys's proposal and spoke. "That is most generous of you, your Grace. I suppose such an alliance would be mutually beneficial to both of our Houses. ," Olenna replied with a respectful curtsy and a bow of her head, "You are wise to seek to make an alliance with Highgarden, considering that House Tyrell provides much of the crops and resources that allow the Crownlands and its people to thrive."

"I wish for the best of Westeros and those I freed in the east," Daenerys responded with a twinkle in her eyes, "I need allies to ensure that my reign shall be a long one. May we count on your armies should a rebellion arise?"

"You can count on the support of House Tyrell, Your Grace," Olenna vowed with the utmost seriousness. "We have a strength that few in the realm can match, and we will stand by you in all your endeavors. You have my word; our swords are at your disposal should you ever need them."

"I thank you, lady Tyrell," Daenerys bowed her head before gesturing to a guard to guide her out of the throne room and when she was alone, Daenerys turned to her throne and breathed a soft sigh. In a week, she would be venturing north to meet with the self-proposed King in the North, Jon Snow and hoping he will bend the knee for her. By that time, her full army should land in Westeros with Daario so she would be protected. A tear dropped down her cheek as she thought about how mad her father had been and she vowed to herself that she would never sink that low.

With the alliance with the Tyrell's secured, Daenerys felt her confidence and resolve strengthening as she now looked forward to her meeting with Jon Snow. She knew that they had much to discuss, and she hoped to ensure that the meeting was productive and ended with an alliance between their Houses. Daenerys knew the North was a key ally as it controlled a significant portion of the kingdom's manpower and resources, so she was determined to find a way to reach an agreement with the King in the North. She had the support of her House and the power of her dragons, so she was ready to negotiate from a position of strength and determination.

Her mind snapped back to the present and she recalled her coronation in 4 days time and she clicked her tongue, leaving the throne room to find Missandei and she smiled when she found her friend overlooking the city in one of the turrets. "Will you do the honour of announcing me as official Queen of the Seven Kingdoms at my coronation?" Daenerys asked, standing beside Missandei with a smile, "I would love for you to be the first person to call me Queen Daenerys Stormborn."

Missandei let out a joyful chuckle and put a hand on her chest as she said to her Queen, "It would be my honor to do such a thing. I am so proud of you and all you have accomplished, and I am thankful to be able to be a part of this historic moment. You have come such a long way, and you have overcome great challenges to claim your rightful place on the Iron Throne. Your people shall know no greater queen, and I am honored to be chosen to help with ushering in this new age of prosperity for the Seven Kingdoms."

Daenerys nodded with a smile and took her friend's hands with a gentle grip. She looked up to the sky and whispered, "please, Missandei, you are my true friend. Every other has betrayed me or left me in the past but not you... I don't know what would happen to me if I lost you."

"You will never lose me, Daenerys," Missandei replied with a tear in her eye. "You have been an inspiration to me throughout all these years, and I know that you will be a wonderful and just queen. I am honored to be by your side and to be able to help you succeed in bringing order and stability back to the Seven Kingdoms. I shall always be by your side, standing beside you as your loyal and faithful friend, come what may."

The mother of dragons smiled and nodded before enveloping her friend in a tight hug and nestling her head into the crook of her neck. “Thank you,” she whispered softly, allowing herself a few moments of peace before the wild of the storm.”

Daenerys Targaryen wasn’t alone in this world though an alternate universe reigned as the supreme where the Dragon Queen meets her end before becoming Queen. In this world, she had everyone she needed, she had her dragons, her army, Missandei and forces were sailing to assist her. She wasn’t going to be Queen of the Ashes and in this world, she won’t be.

#daenerys targeryan #daenerys defense squad #daenerys stormborn #daenerys appreciation #daenerys targaryen #pro daenerys #missandei #fix it fic #giving Daenerys the ending she deserved #Queen Daenerys Stormborn

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istumpysk · 2 years

Text

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

AFFC: Jaime I (Chapter 8)

Excuse me, where is Alayne?

"Allow me to stand tonight in your stead," Ser Loras offered. "He was not your father." You did not kill him. I did. Tyrion may have loosed the crossbow bolt that slew him, but I loosed Tyrion. "Leave me."

[...]

He never said he meant to kill our father. If he had, I would have stopped him. Then I would be the kinslayer, not him.

Bad news, you'll both slay kin, only in vastly different ways.

Remember when I didn't understand this?

The height of folly was reached when a plump fool came capering out in gold-painted tin with a cloth lion's head, and chased a dwarf around the tables, whacking him over the head with a bladder. Finally King Renly demanded to know why he was beating his brother. "Why, Your Grace, I'm the Kinslayer," the fool said.

"It's Kingslayer, fool of a fool," Renly said, and the hall rang with laughter. - Catelyn II, ACOK

How funny.

Anyway, at least he realizes he's partly responsible for Tywin's murder.

+.+.+

And then he was alone again with his lord father, amongst the candles and the crystals and the sickly sweet smell of death.

Do the Daenerys fans read these books with their eyes closed?

+.+.+

Unless my brother murdered Varys too, and left his corpse to rot beneath the castle. Down there, it might be years before his bones were found.

Hmmm. Hmmm. Hmmm.

Tyrion hung back a moment. Varys had already betrayed him once. Who knew what game the eunuch was playing? And what better place to murder a man than down in the darkness, in a place that no one knew existed? His body might never be found. - Tyrion XI, ASOS

I don't know if this is about Varys, or the twins.

+.+.+

Jaime had led a dozen guards below, with torches and ropes and lanterns. For hours they had groped through twisting passages, narrow crawl spaces, hidden doors, secret steps, and shafts that plunged down into utter blackness. Seldom had he felt so utterly a cripple. A man takes much for granted when he has two hands. Ladders, for an instance. Even crawling did not come easy; not for nought do they speak of hands and knees. Nor could he hold a torch and climb, as others could.

Jaime's not going to be able to escape the bowels. Got it.

+.+.+

And all for naught. They found only darkness, dust, and rats. And dragons, lurking down below.

+.+.+

He remembered the sullen orange glow of the coals in the iron dragon's mouth. The brazier warmed a chamber at the bottom of a shaft where half a dozen tunnels met. On the floor he'd found a scuffed mosaic of the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen done in tiles of black and red. I know you, Kingslayer, the beast seemed to be saying. I have been here all the time, waiting for you to come to me. And it seemed to Jaime that he knew that voice, the iron tones that had once belonged to Rhaegar, Prince of Dragonstone.

A dragon waiting for Jaime at the bottom of the Red Keep is not helping my confusion regarding the location.

+.+.+

The day had been windy when he said farewell to Rhaegar, in the yard of the Red Keep. The prince had donned his night-black armor, with the three-headed dragon picked out in rubies on his breastplate. "Your Grace," Jaime had pleaded, "let Darry stay to guard the king this once, or Ser Barristan. Their cloaks are as white as mine."

Prince Rhaegar shook his head. "My royal sire fears your father more than he does our cousin Robert. He wants you close, so Lord Tywin cannot harm him. I dare not take that crutch away from him at such an hour."

Is that another Targaryen talent? Ensuring you're surrounded by people (Lannisters) who will betray you?

+.+.+

Rhaegar had put his hand on Jaime's shoulder. "When this battle's done I mean to call a council. Changes will be made. I meant to do it long ago, but . . . well, it does no good to speak of roads not taken. We shall talk when I return."

Those were the last words Rhaegar Targaryen ever spoke to him.

Then what happened? Hahahahaha.

A council! He means to call a council.

+.+.+

It was queer, but he felt no grief. Where are my tears? Where is my rage? Jaime Lannister had never lacked for rage. "Father," he told the corpse, "it was you who told me that tears were a mark of weakness in a man, so you cannot expect that I should cry for you."

If he's feeling no anger or grief, why is he so insistent on standing vigil for seven days, and seven nights?

Because Jaime Lannister cares a lot about appearance.

+.+.+

Without his beard, Pycelle looked not only old, but feeble. Shaving him was the cruelest thing Tyrion could have done, thought Jaime, who knew what it was to lose a part of yourself, the part that made you who you were.

That right there might be more missing tongue foreshadowing.

I'm still not a believer, but I'll continue to include it.

+.+.+

"Ser Jaime, I have seen terrible things in my time," the old man said. "Wars, battles, murders most foul . . . I was a boy in Oldtown when the grey plague took half the city and three-quarters of the Citadel. Lord Hightower burned every ship in port, closed the gates, and commanded his guards to slay all those who tried to flee, be they men, women, or babes in arms. They killed him when the plague had run its course. On the very day he reopened the port, they dragged him from his horse and slit his throat, and his young son's as well. To this day the ignorant in Oldtown will spit at the sound of his name, but Quenton Hightower did what was needed. Your father was that sort of man as well. A man who did what was needed."

Well, I know one thing, we're not reading this random story for no reason.

A part of me believes Aegon won't engage with King's Landing, instead he'll go to Dorne + the Reach after the stormlands.

Jon Connington and his greyscale being near Oldtown fits with what the show tried to do with Jorah Mormont.

+.+.+

It was my work, not his, Jaime almost told her. Instead he had promised to find what answers he could from the chief undergaoler, a bentback old man named Rennifer Longwaters.

"I see you wonder, what sort of name is that?" the man had cackled when Jaime went to question him. "It is an old name, 'tis true. I am not one to boast, but there is royal blood in my veins. I am descended from a princess. My father told me the tale when I was a tad of a lad." Longwaters had not been a tad of a lad for many a year, to judge from his spotted head and the white hairs growing from his chin. "She was the fairest treasure of the Maidenvault. Lord Oakenfist the great admiral lost his heart to her, though he was married to another. She gave their son the bastard name of 'Waters' in honor of his father, and he grew to be a great knight, as did his own son, who put the 'Long' before the 'Waters' so men might know that he was not basely born himself. So I have a little dragon in me."

The mystery is solved! Daenerys, Rennifer Longwaters, and Brown Ben Plumm are the three heads of the dragon.

I understand this story gets more developed in the side books (and I am unfamiliar with it), but if you only read the above, it would be hard to not see hints of Rhaegar, Lyanna, and Jon Snow.

+.+.+

Mention that royal blood once more and I may spill some of it, thought Jaime. "Who saw these reports?"

"Certain of them went to the master of coin, others to the master of whisperers. All to the chief gaoler and the King's Justice. It has always been so in the dungeons." Longwaters scratched his nose. "Rugen was here when need be, my lord. That must be said. The black cells are little used. Before your lordship's little brother was sent down, we had Grand Maester Pycelle for a time, and before him Lord Stark the traitor. There were three others, common men, but Lord Stark gave them to the Night's Watch. I did not think it good to free those three, but the papers were in proper order. I made note of that in a report as well, you may be certain of it."

The previous master of coin is subtly mentioned, but don't think for one second that will help Jaime.

Ned sent Rorge, Biter, and Jaqen to the Night's Watch. I bet he wishes he could take that one back, hahaha.

+.+.+

"Tell me of the two gaolers who went to sleep."

"Gaolers?" Longwaters sniffed. "Those were no gaolers. They were merely turnkeys. The crown pays wages for twenty turnkeys, my lord, a full score, but during my time we have never had more than twelve. We are supposed to have six undergaolers as well, two on each level, but there are only the three."

[...]

Six prisoners, Jaime thought sourly, while we pay wages for twenty turnkeys, six undergaolers, a chief undergaoler, a gaoler, and a King's Justice.

Is Jaime going to ask himself who's collecting those wages if the positions aren't filled?

No, of course not, every dumb Lannister must have a Littlefinger blind spot. It's a prerequisite.

+.+.+

"I want to question these two turnkeys."

[...]

But, ser, if I may be so bold, I do not think them like to answer. They are dead, my lord."

Jaime frees Tyrion, and four people die for it, including his father. That's what a redemption arc looks like, right?

The three children continue to honour Tywin's legacy by always making everything worse.

+.+.+

Ser Osmund shrugged. "They won't be missed. I'll wager they was part of it, along with the one who's gone missing."

No, Jaime could have told him. Varys dosed their wine to make them sleep.

[...]

"If I had a suspicious nature I might wonder why you were in such haste to make certain these two were never put to the question. Did you need to silence them to conceal your own part in this?"

"Us?" Kettleblack choked on that. "All we done was what the queen commanded. On my word as your Sworn Brother."

The gall to accuse others of being involved. Lol

Never change, Jaime Lannister.

+.+.+

The sun had set for good and all. The stench of death was growing stronger, despite the scented candles. The smell reminded Jaime Lannister of the pass below the Golden Tooth, where he had won a glorious victory in the first days of the war. On the morning after the battle, the crows had feasted on victors and vanquished alike, as once they had feasted on Rhaegar Targaryen after the Trident. How much can a crown be worth, when a crow can dine upon a king?

Everyone sit back and enjoy the thought of birds eating Rhaegar Targaryen.

A crow dining upon a king, eh? Is that Castle Black mutiny foreshadowing or Bloodraven vs. Bran foreshadowing?

+.+.+

There were crows circling the seven towers and great dome of Baelor's Sept even now, Jaime suspected, their black wings beating against the night air as they searched for a way inside. Every crow in the Seven Kingdoms should pay homage to you, Father. From Castamere to the Blackwater, you fed them well.

Are you sure they're not eagles?

+.+.+

A woman stood before him.

It is raining again, he thought when he saw how wet she was. The water was trickling down her cloak to puddle round her feet. How did she get here? I never heard her enter. She was dressed like a tavern wench in a heavy roughspun cloak, badly dyed in mottled browns and fraying at the hem. A hood concealed her face, but he could see the candles dancing in the green pools of her eyes, and when she moved he knew her.

"Cersei." He spoke slowly, like a man waking from a dream, still wondering where he was. "What hour is it?"

"The hour of the wolf." His sister lowered her hood, and made a face. "The drowned wolf, perhaps." She smiled for him, so sweetly.

Look, a hooded drowned wolf is visiting Jaime!

Run, bitch.

+.+.+

"Jaime, Kevan has refused me. He will not serve as Hand, he . . . he knows about us. He said as much."

"Refused?" That surprised him. "How could he know? He will have read what Stannis wrote, but there is no . . ."

HOW COULD HE NOT?

+.+.+

She wants something of me. "Why are you here, at this hour? What would you have of me?" His last word echoed up and down the sept, mememememememememememe, fading to a whisper. For a moment he dared to hope that all she wanted was the comfort of his arms.

[...]

"Be my Hand," she pleaded, "and we'll rule the Seven Kingdoms together, like a king and his queen."

"You were Robert's queen. And yet you won't be mine."

"I would, if I dared. But our son—"

Couldn't help but notice you both want something from the other.

+.+.+

Jaime could smell the fear on her, even through the rank stench of the corpse. He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her, to bury his face in her golden curls and promise her that no one would ever hurt her . . . not here, he thought, not here in front of the gods, and Father. "No," he said. "I cannot. Will not."

Yeah, who would ever have sex in a church in front of a dead family member?

+.+.+

Dawn caught Jaime almost unawares. As the glass in the dome began to lighten, suddenly there were rainbows shimmering off the walls and floors and pillars, bathing Lord Tywin's corpse in a haze of many-colored light. The King's Hand was rotting visibly. His face had taken on a greenish tinge, and his eyes were deeply sunken, two black pits. Fissures had opened in his cheeks, and a foul white fluid was seeping through the joints of his splendid gold-and-crimson armor to pool beneath his body.

Aww, Tywin got his rainbow!

+.+.+

Shortly after, a flock of novices came swinging censers, and the air grew so thick with incense that the bier seemed cloaked in smoke. All the rainbows vanished in that perfumed mist, yet the stench persisted, a sweet rotten smell that made Jaime want to gag.

Do the Daenerys fans read these books with their eyes closed?

+.+.+

". . . she's been fucking Lancel and Osmund Kettleblack and Moon Boy for all I know . . ."

Jaime had seen Kettleblack naked in the bathhouse, had seen the black hair on his chest, and the coarser thatch between his legs. He pictured that chest pressed against his sister's, that hair scratching the soft skin of her breasts. She would not do that. The Imp lied. Spun gold and black wire tangled, sweaty. Kettleblack's narrow cheeks clenching each time he thrust. Jaime could hear his sister moan. No. A lie.

Listen, I love when the twins torture each other, but I genuinely feel bad for him on this one.

+.+.+

Red-eyed and pale, Cersei climbed the steps to kneel above their father, drawing Tommen down beside her. The boy recoiled at the sight, but his mother seized his wrist before he could pull away. "Pray," she whispered, and Tommen tried. But he was only eight and Lord Tywin was a horror. One desperate breath of air, then the king began to sob. "Stop that!" Cersei said. Tommen turned his head and doubled over, retching. His crown fell off and rolled across the marble floor. His mother pulled back in disgust, and all at once the king was running for the doors, as fast as his eight-year-old legs could carry him.

Did we need two chapters dedicated to Tywin's funeral? Absolutely not, but I still enjoyed every word.

+.+.+

"I wasn't scared," the boy insisted. "The smell made me sick. Didn't it make you sick? How could you bear it, Uncle, ser?"

[...]

"The world is full of horrors, Tommen. You can fight them, or laugh at them, or look without seeing . . . go away inside."

Tommen considered that. "I . . . I used to go away inside sometimes," he confessed, "when Joffy . . ."

"Joffrey." Cersei stood over them, the wind whipping her skirts around her legs. "Your brother's name was Joffrey. He would never have shamed me so."

You don't want to be reading that so close to the introduction of Aeron Dam-phair's rusted iron hinges.

+.+.+

The queen drew Tommen to her side. Mace Tyrell bowed before them. "His Grace is not unwell, I hope?"

"The king was overwhelmed by grief," said Cersei.

"As are we all. If there is aught that I can do . . ."

High above, a crow screamed loudly. He was perched on the statue of King Baelor, shitting on his holy head. "There is much and more you can do for Tommen, my lord," Jaime said. "Perhaps you would do Her Grace the honor of supping with her, after the evening services?"

[...]

But when Tyrell had taken his leave and Tommen had been sent off with Ser Addam Marbrand, she turned on Jaime angrily. "Are you drunk or dreaming, ser? Pray tell, why am I having supper with that grasping fool and his puerile wife?" A gust of wind stirred her golden hair. "I will not name him Hand, if that's what—"

Is. . . is someone watching? Is. . . is Mace Tyrell full of shit?

+.+.+

"You need Tyrell," Jaime broke in, "but not here. Ask him to capture Storm's End for Tommen. Flatter him, and tell him you need him in the field, to replace Father. Mace fancies himself a mighty warrior. Either he will deliver Storm's End to you, or he will muck it up and look a fool. Either way, you win."

"Storm's End?" Cersei looked thoughtful. "Yes, but . . . Lord Tyrell has made it tediously plain that he will not leave King's Landing till Tommen marries Margaery."

Jaime sighed. "Then let them wed. It will be years before Tommen is old enough to consummate the marriage. And until he does, the union can always be set aside. Give Tyrell his wedding and send him off to play at war."

The union can always be set aside? Hmmm.

I was blown away to find people in this fandom applauding Jaime for this clever suggestion. I thought we all understood everything this family does badly backfires? I guess not.

Mace Tyrell will leave for Storm's End, but he'll bring Mathis Rowan with him, who has just been removed from the small council by Cersei. Mace will then return to King's Landing once Margaery is imprisoned, leaving Rowan and his forces at Storm's End to lay siege. Aegon VI and the Golden Company now approach.

Mathis Rowan.

"Prince Doran comes at my son's invitation," Lord Tywin said calmly, "not only to join in our celebration, but to claim his seat on this council, and the justice Robert denied him for the murder of his sister Elia and her children."

Tyrion watched the faces of the Lords Tyrell, Redwyne, and Rowan, wondering if any of the three would be bold enough to say, "But Lord Tywin, wasn't it you who presented the bodies to Robert, all wrapped up in Lannister cloaks?" None of them did, but it was there on their faces all the same. Redwyne does not give a fig, he thought, but Rowan looks fit to gag. - Tyrion III, ASOS

That Mathis Rowan.

I will not pretend to know what's going to happen in the story (ha, lies), but I will say, I would not want a spurned Mathis Rowan anywhere near King Aegon Targaryen while a Cersei of House Lannister targets Tyrells in King's Landing, and Tommen patiently waits for his death.

Good idea in theory Jaime, but the chess pieces (Friends in the Reach) are not placed where you want them.

+.+.+

A wary smile crept across his sister's face. "Even sieges have their dangers," she murmured. "Why, our Lord of Highgarden might even lose his life in such a venture."

"There is that risk," conceded Jaime. "Especially if his patience runs thin this time, and he elects to storm the gate."

Cersei gave him a lingering look. "You know," she said, "for a moment you sounded quite like Father."

Is that supposed to a compliment?

It's like when someone compares Daenerys to Rhaegar.

Final thoughts:

Do you have any idea how hard it would be to manage a ranking of the dumbest Lannisters?

Poor Kevan.

-> return to menu <-

#operation stumpy re-read #affc #jaime i

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waitingforwinterwinds · 1 year

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Game of Thrones - 72 DAENERYS X (pages 772-780)

Dany burns a woman alive and turns her husband's funeral pyre into a hatchery for her dragon eggs.

The reader, after almost 20 solid hours of a headache that seems immune to painkillers, is perhaps a little overly critical about it all.

Bound hand and foot, Mirri Maz Duur watched from the dust with disquiet in her black eyes. ... "I am tired of the maegi's braying," Dany told Jhogo. He took his whip to her, and after that the godswife kept silent.

Real classy Dany.

On the platform, they piled Khal Drogo's treasures: his great tent, his painted vests, his saddles and harness, the whip his father had given him when he came to manhood, the arakh he had used to slay Khal Ogo and his son, a mighty dragonbone bow. ... "To you I give the dragonbone bow that was my bride gift." It was double-curved, shiny black and exquisite, taller than she was.

I'mma add Dragonbone (weapons) to the drinking game = 🥛🥛

"Viserys is dead. I am his heir, the last blood of House Targaryen. Whatever is his is mine now." "My... queen," Ser Jorah said, going to one knee.

Yeah, here we go again, this is the second time (the first being post pregnancy prophecy and the death of Viserys) that we see an escalation in Dany's need for acknowledgement of (her) power and authority. (Or the line of it through her while she was still pregnant.)

... oh fun, we also get to see the old divorced man who tried to do slavery declare his love for a fourteen year old girl who's just had a miscarriage, a second major traumatic death and loss of a loved one (even if he was absolute trash) and invite her to run away with him.

Super. Romantic.

(That was disgusted sarcasm, just to be clear.)

"I swear it," she said in the Common Tongue of the Seven Kingdoms that by rights were hers.

Okay, knowing that this is probably going to get me attacked by Die-hard Dany Stans, I'm just going to come out and say it: Dany's 'right' to the Seven Kingdoms is dubious at best.

Her family's 'right' to the kingdoms came through conquest, we can call it an usurpation, but the rebellion of Bobby B was also a conquest. If his claim isn't legit, than neither is Aegon's. If you're trying to come at it as a blood right, you need to remember that the Targaryen's only ruled for 300 odd years, out of a history that is over 8,000 years old just by a calendar of human habitation.

Dany's blood right as a Targaryen might say she owns the chair, the Iron Throne itself physically as a chair, because her ancestor had it crafted, Blood right might say she has the right to rule King's Landing because her ancestors built it and reigned from it for all but less than two decades of its existence.

Sure, I'll give her that.

But that does not entitle her to the rest of Westeros and/or Dorne. If (and when) she goes to Westeros, it is not as an unjustly deposed ruler reclaiming her seat, it is as a conqueror.

Dany called the Dothraki around her. Fewer than a hundred were left. How many had Aegon started with? It did not matter. "You will be my khalasaar," 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."

I know that this is supposed to be a big moment of "Dany frees the slaves" and perhaps the perceived start of her slave freeing journey, but something about this bothers me. And it's not that she's about to burn a woman alive for a crime she might not have committed. (So one slave not getting freed today.)

I think it's that she's already planning to conquer, at least that's what the mention of Aegon gives me vibes for, and that specific thought of him segues into the 'free the slaves' moment, where... where does she think they'd go with their new freedom? I genuinely got the vibe most of these people (the slaves specifically) didn't stay for loyalty or because they were slaves, that they were left behind because they were deemed worthless.

Given the way Dany treated Mirri in the previous chapters, I wouldn't be surprised to see Dany thinking again that showing someone basic human decency is enough to earn their undying loyalty and support.

"Aggo," Dany called, paying no heed to Jhogo's words. If I look back I am lost. ... They thought her mad, Dany realized. Perhaps she was. She would know soon enough. If I look back I am lost.

IILBIAL = 🥛🥛

"- I have no bride gift to give you, but I swear to you, one day you shall have from my hands a longsword like none the world has ever seen, dragon forged and made of Valyrian steel. And I would ask for your oath as well."

Valyrian Steel = 🥛

... Isn't there an article from a GRRM interview where he basically confirmed Valyrian steel isn't made from dragons (or at least not their dragon fire)? So is she saying she'll make him a Valyrian steel sword that will also be forged in the fire of dragons seperate from the Valyrian steelneess of it?

She climbed the pyre herself to place the eggs around her sun-and-stars. The black beside his heart, under his arm. The green beside his head, his braid coiled around it. The cream-and-gold down between his legs.

Hang on, I need to google something.

"Drogon is black, Rhaegal is green and Viserion is the cream" ah okay. never mind. I was just wondering if the placements of the eggs reflected Dany's or even Drogo's relation the the people the eggs were named after. I was mostly wondering because their behaviours and attitudes in the show had a small aspect of character reflection. Maybe not "these three dead men are reincarnated as dragons" strong, but like, I felt hints and vibes.

She saw crimson firelions and great yellow serpents and unicorns made of pale blue flame; she saw fish and foxes and monsters, wolves and bright birds and flowering trees, each more beautiful than the last.

... I should just print out a copy of the wiki's list of house sigils. half the time these kinds of visions end up being house sigil references.

... I feel like someone should be saying "the night is dark and full of terrors" what with all this fire sacrifice and seeing things in the flames.

After them came her handmaidens, and then the others, all the Dothraki, men and women and children, and Dany had only to look in their eyes to know they were hers now, today and tomorrow and forever, hers as they had never been Drogo's.

Yeah, because for all that he waas a slave driving sack of shit who was physically terrifying and a strong and a capable warrior, he was still human. You... you're terrifying in an inhuman kind of way right now.

Who in their right mind betrays what is either a god or a demon after a display like that?

Well that chapter sure closed the book off with a terrifying bang, as I'm sure it was meant to.

Tomorrow is a cheat day for me, because it's the appendix, there might be a post, just end of book thoughts or things I want to say, idk.

Damn this chapter was a heavy one, I think it's a good thing I'm going to have the time to sit with it a while. I just.... hmmm.....

#a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #game of thrones #daenerys targeryan #long post #a chapter a day reading #got

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asoiafandotherbooks · 5 months

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TWOIAF/Fire & Blood: The Beginning of 44 AC

Warning, Spoilers Ahead…

It is 44 AC and Maegor has put down rebellions by the Faith of the Seven and Aegon the Uncrowned.

The building of the Red Keep continued but his court was “grim and cheerless”.

Maegor bedded one of his three queens nightly but remained childless.

He was called “Maegor the Cruel” and “kinslayer” but not in his hearing.

In Old Town, High Septon Pater died of natural causes and a new High Septon was elected. The new High Septon wisely “spoke no word” against Maegor or his queens. However, there was still enmity between Maegor and the Faith. Hundreds of Poor Fellows had been hunted down, their scalps delivered to the king, but thousands still roamed in the woods and wild places of Westeros. One band even crowned their new High Septon, a bearded brute named Septon Moon. A few Warrior’s Sons endured led by Ser Joffrey Doggett, the Red Dog of the Hills.

The Warrior’s Sons no longer had the numbers for open battle, so Joffrey sent them out as hedge knights to “hunt and slay Targaryen loyalists and traitors to the Faith”. Their first victim was Ser Morgan Hightower (the man who “guarded” the pre-Pater High Septon and was later pardoned by Maegor). Other victims were old Lord Merryweather, Lord Peake’s son and heir, Davos Darklyn’s aged father, and Blind Jon Hogg. The Warrior’s Sons were hidden by the smallfolk and peasants of the realm, “remembering what they had been”.

“Remembering what they had been” is the key part of that sentence. The Warrior’s Sons might have once been noble warriors who guarded the Faith but now, they are bitter, vengeful outlaws who are murdering people as part of a vendetta. Two elderly men and a blind man? Seriously, that’s embarrassing for so-called “warriors”.

As for the death of the Morgan, it seems the Warrior’s Sons realized he was a double-agent for the Hightowers. Did Morgan travel with guards or by himself? I would think Morgan would have guards since he was a) noble and b) the antagonism between the various sides was still fresh. The Warrior’s Sons either had the strength to take out a knight and his guards or Morgan chose a bad time to be careless with his personal protection.

One final note: the order to “hunt and slay Targaryen loyalists and traitors to the Faith” sounds like an ill-defined witch hunt. Those never end well.

On Dragonstone, the Dowager Queen Visenya “had grown thin and haggard, the flesh melting from the bones”. I’ve seen speculation that Visenya’s rapid decline was a case of “only death can pay for life” but the timing doesn’t seem to work out. Any speculation seems to involve Tyanna of the Tower – either as the cost for healing Maegor or for aiding in Alys to conceive. In both cases, the timing is off. In the most well-known example of “only death can pay for life” in the series, Daenerys loses Rhaego while Mirri Maz Durr is actively “healing” Khal Drogo. It has been over a year since Tyanna woke Maegor from his coma and Visenya has only recently become ill – it was only a few months ago that she was on Vhagar setting the Riverlands aflame. As for Visenya’s decline being linked to Alys’ conception, she lived for weeks after Alys and the baby died. I think Visenya’s rapid decline was due to cancer. It’s not as fun to speculate on and it pokes even more holes in Jaehaerys’ “Targaryens are so superior to normal humans, you can’t judge us” spiel but cancer is the most likely cause to me.

Dowager Queen Alyssa Velaryon remained on Dragonstone along with her two-youngest children, Jaehaerys and Alysanne. Viserys, Alyssa’s fifteen-year-old son, stayed in King’s Landing as the squire to Maegor. Viserys had a member of the Kingsgaurd always shadowing him, “to keep him well away from plots and treasons”. I imagine the Kingsguard assigned to shadow Viserys must have felt the same way the Kingsugard assigned to guard Elia/Rhaenys/Aegon during Aerys’ reign: “Yes, a day away from the violent/crazy one!”

Up next, the downfall of House Harroway

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finitefall · 1 year

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What's your take on victarion and euron being able to take the dragons? Will they get it? I feel it will backfire them coz first of all, no one has used that horn, and second Dany's dragons are born under special case, they were born under the sacrifice done by Dany. Had they been hatched normally I, myself had been doubtful about it. But seeing euron's confidence is scaring me 😭😭😭 and we have oldtown getting destroyed by him

Hi nonnie, unfortunately I think you're right to worry about Euron. But for me, Victarion will not claim any of Dany's dragons so let's start with him.

First of all, let's talk about Moqorro, who does seem to see Euron as a threat. When Tyrion asks Moqorro if he's seen in his fires those others who seek Daenerys, he says:

"One most of all. A tall and twisted thing with one black eye and ten long arms, sailing on a sea of blood." Tyrion VIII, A Dance with Dragons

He seeks Victarion, who is hoping Euron told the truth about Daenerys. We know that Euron is absolutely underestimating Dany, and that Victarion is an idiot (I think even GRRM said Victarion was stupid, I can't find it anymore though, but it's kinda obvious). Moqorro is using Victarion in hope to replace Euron, the threat he saw in the flames.

About the horn, Victarion's experience isn't very promising for him.

"The sound it made... it burned somehow. As if my bones were on fire, searing my flesh from within. Those writings glowed red-hot, then white-hot and painful to look upon. It seemed as if the sound would never end. It was like some long scream. A thousands screams, all melted into one." Victarion I, A Dance with Dragons

The man who blewed the horn Victarion heard died, because it says in Valyrian on said horn (named "I am Dragonbider") that "No mortal man shall sound me and live", as Moqorro tells Victarion. He also tells him:

"Your brother did not sound the horn himself. Nor must you." Moqorro pointed to the band of steel. "Here. 'Blood for fire, fire for blood.' Who blows the hellhorn matters not. The dragons will come to the horn's master. You must claim the horn. With blood." Victarion I, A Dance with Dragons

Victarion will not claim a dragon, I'm sure of it, and he will die, probably cursing Euron and Moqorro and hopefully his own stupidity. Euron is the one who possess the horn, and Moqorro wants Victarion to claim it because he's stupid and easy to manipulate. What's his end goal, though? Does he want to help Dany? That, I do not know.

We're sure that Euron is the real threat to Daenerys, especially when we recall the slayer of lies prophecy in A Clash of Kings, because I do believe the third lie she must slay refers to Euron. That third lie says "From a smoking tower, a great stone beast took wing, breathing shadow fire, so yes, I believe one dragon will be ensorceled by the horn and that it will be Euron. Which means Moqorro will not succeed at least in making Victarion claim the horn, but how will Euron manage to use it? We know he'll die if he blows the horn, so what matters is that it stays in his possession. If Victarion tries to claim the horn from Euron, will Euron use Victarion's death (Moqorro says the horn must be claimed with blood) to use it in order to claim one of Dany's dragons? Again, I don't know.

I'm not sure how it's going to happen, but in summary my thoughts are that:

Moqorro has a plan and is using Victarion

Victarion will not claim any dragon

Victarion will die

Euron is the third lie Dany must slay

Euron will manage to use the horn

One of Dany's dragons will be ensorceled

Dany and Euron will fight

In order to slay Euron's lie, Dany has to slay Euron himself

What happens to the dragon afterwards, though? Like you say, we don't know what happens if someone succeeds in using the horn. After Euron's death, if the dragon is still alive, can he come back to Dany? Will he still be alive, or die too? I know it's sad to think about it, but it's ASOIAF so the possibility can't be ignored.

#ASOIAF #Daenerys Targaryen #Euron Greyjoy #Victarion Geyjoy #Moqorro #answered

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dulcewrites · 1 year

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Thinking about how I have futures for daella and alaric played out like in a perfect universe where they grow up with little trauma. Like bitch I’m a MOTHER! Those are my kids

So for daella, she travels as soon as she becomes of age to. Hops from places in the realm, part time diplomat for her family but mainly just having fun. She goes up north for some time. Gets proposed to by a stark lord which she laughs off bc her dragon [redacted] would hate that. Ironically, she spends some time in the riverlands, falls for a Whent lady. Has her first heartbreak when her gf gets married off to some guy :(. She goes back to court to lick her wounds. Reconnects with a redwyne fellow that’s been at court since they were young. She is canonically bi btw. She puts off marriage bc of fear and anxiousness. Eventually she marries the redwyne lord, and he’s like “are we gonna live on arbor.” And she’s like “…nah I’m staying at court” and he just shrugs and is like “whatever you say gorgeous 😍🥰”. They have one kid, a girl named after reader.

Now alaric follows a bit more traditional path. Studies the sword (like his father). Stays at court most of his life. But has no care for royal duty but not in an Aegon/young Rhaenyra who cares way. More in a he has a soft heart and doesn’t think he has it in him way. That all changes when he meets a dornish princess. Yes, that’s right. Our sweet alaric becomes a Prince but to ANOTHER part of the realm. And even crazier, his princess is in line to rule her house. They get married and have a whole gaggle of kids. Four boys, two girls

Both alaric and daella kind of have an unspoken pact to sort of breed the targaryen out their family line 😭. That plan gets messed up bc one of alarics boys marries back into the targ family. Don’t ask me how bc it’s probably not possible nor makes any sense… but it would be a slay if Daenerys is a direct descendent of Alaric

#these are far fetched perfect universe ideas #fmo headcanons #just thinking about anything and everything bc I have half of this week off.. who else cheered

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fierypen37 · 1 year

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Victory is In Your Veins: Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Day Fifty-Four: Jon

The red thing within that hungered for violence and battle still growled within him. The Yunkish army was poor sport. His breath evened and he bent to wipe Longclaw clean on the tunic of a sellsword he’d slain. These fools didn’t even fight in ranks, just clusters of timid men, their eyes wide and frightened beneath their half-helms. As of yet, Jon had not seen Mero, the Titan’s Bastard, but he hoped he could end that swaggering brute.

The peacock Daario had smuggled Jon and Grey Worm within. That rankled too. The sellsword had crept back to camp under the cover of darkness offering to betray his comrades. Jon caught him, disarmed him, hauled him in by the scruff of his neck and threw him at Daenerys’ feet. The red thing snarled when Daario batted his blue eyes at Daenerys, offering her his sword, his life, his heart. That godsdamned sellsword with his cheap-silk charm and golden-toothed smile. If Daario looked, and Daenerys looked back . . . what was he to do? Every man she meets either falls in love with her, or wants to kill her. A daughter of fire attracted fire in turn, he supposed. Jon’s own torch for her blazed, pure and unfettered. And yet, what had he to offer her? His sword and life he’d already sworn to her service, and he would do so until the end of his days.

After slaying the few guards at post, the three of them had opened the gate and Daenerys’ army poured into the city. A sea of Unsullied and mounted Dothraki.

“Grey Worm!” he shouted, motioning down one of the side streets. As he watched, the defenders of the great city of the Wise Masters of Yunkai broke rank. Thrown their swords in the dirt and ran. The flash of their sandals as they fled amused him. A great laugh bubbled up from his belly. He looked from one street to the next and saw a similar tale.

“Victory!” Jon shouted, raising Longclaw in the air. The red thing remained unsatiated, but violence was not the only way he could serve. Jon shimmied up the standard pole. It groaned and threatened to buckle under his weight. He snagged the harpy standard with another shout: “For the khaleesi! Strike off the collars! Harm no child!” He jumped down, landing on the balls of his feet.

He whistled for his dapple. The horse trotted to greet him. Swinging astride, he dug his heels in, urging him forward with the Dothraki charge. He would gift the Yunkish standard to Daenerys once the city was in hand. The freedman foot soldiers shouted and rattled their shields in ranks behind the Dothraki, eager to taste blood. From the tail of his eye, Jon glimpsed a flash of red-black hair teased into spiraled horns from the crown of his mail coif. Jon pulled up his dapple. The boy—Zokan no Rizin. Jon smirked, absurdly pleased the lad had survived Morrgys’ wroth, and even more that he had chosen to fight for Daenerys.

Battle washed over him. So different from the pitched battles of the arena. Organized chaos. Ranks of men surging forward. The Dothraki fought like demons and rode as if born ahorse, rushing forward in a swift tide, hacking the fleeing army to pieces. The defenders of the city shrieked as they fell under the sword. Blood meandered between the cobbles, painting the yellow city red. True to their orders, the Unsullied used the butt of their spears to strike off chains, and left the shrieking slavers be unless attacked. Few did, understanding the Unsullied’s deadly reputation. Jon heeled his dapple to the head of the freedman’s battalion. Freed slaves eager for vengeance would not stay their swords, orders be damned, and any innocent deaths would grieve Daenerys’ tender heart. While Jon understood the need for revenge, Daenerys’ orders were to obeyed if he had any say about it.

The conquest pressed toward the heart of city. Through each street, more of the slavers surrendered, shoving out slaves laden with riches. Jon shouted himself half-hoarse directing the newly freed slaves and pack mules laden with riches. He drummed his fingers on the pommel of his saddle. Daenerys said to slay the masters, but had not specified the terms of surrender. In the end, he had them chained and taken back to camp. Daenerys would decide what she wanted done with them. Prisoners of war or fodder for the executioner’s axe, either way was fine with him.

One slaver minced from the marble steps of his stepped mansion near the crest of Yunkai’s hill, brandishing his whip. The metal and sharpened bone pieces—the harpy’s fingers—chimed as he shook the whip at Jon. The red thing within snarled. In his scarlet tokar, he was Morrgys, the Twins, any of the evil worms who used their power to degrade, to hurt. Several slaves hurried from the dim recesses of the house, laden with chests. Jon pulled up his dapple and signaled the freedman battalion at his back to halt.

“Take them and go, demon spawn! Run back to that inbred whore and leave us be!”

Anger crackled within like lightning. When would these fools learn to stay their tongues in slandering Daenerys? Jon swung down from his dapple and drew Longclaw. Rage boiled up, an acid burn in the back of his throat. He lashed out, slicing through the hand that held the whip. Shrieking and clutching a spurting stump, the slaver collapsed. Jon braced a knee on his chest and poised Longclaw’s tip at the pulse leaping beneath his chin.

“Say another word against the queen. Go on!” Jon shouted. There was fear in the master’s eyes, but also a defiant hate. The slaver spat in Jon’s face. The fragile thread holding his temper snapped. Jon let Longclaw fall and punched the slaver’s face. Pain burst in his knuckles along with the slaver’s nose. Blood flew in fine ribbons. Again and again and again he hit him until his face was a crushed red ruin. He stood over the dead body and sheathed Longclaw. Jon licked his lips to summon enough spittle to whistle for his dapple and tasted blood. The horse pranced closer, ears flat against his head at the din of battle, fire and screams.

“Easy, lad,” Jon murmured, stroking the sweat-damp hair of his muscular neck until some of the tension ebbed. Jon swung up into his saddle.

“Onward!” Jon said, urging the dapple at the head of the freedmen’s battalion. Battle had spilled into the streets and the freedmen broke rank to knife at any slaver they could find. We all need a bit of discipline. Down this street, Jon glimpsed the relentless din of the Unsullied march. Down another, Dothraki shrieked and howled. The freedmen added their voices to that chorus as a few fleeing stragglers spilled out of a burning house. Men pushed and shoved, hacking the screaming soldiers to bits. It would be so easy for this conquest to devolve into a mindless rout, heedless of the lives Daenerys cherished.

“Hold! Hold, I said! Form up!” Jon bellowed. The men obeyed, with some reluctance.

The boy, Zokan, hurried back to Jon’s stirrup.

“White Wolf, the sellswords will be looting the richest man in Yunkai: Shaznal zo Pagaz. We must hurry there if we are to thwart them.” The boy’s voice cracked and warbled. No longer so green, Jon noted with approval. Zokan’s pike was black with old blood, his shield dented. Though they had faced each other on the training field under Morrgys’ cruel eye, perhaps they could set aside any past hurts. Jon resolved to request a squire from Daenerys as soon as the battle was done. Perhaps Jon was uniquely equipped to train him in a warrior’s art. The sellswords. The Titan’s Bastard. The temptation was too great to pass up.

“Send a runner to Grey Worm, captain of the Unsullied. Tell him we run for the home of Shaznal zo Pagaz,” Jon said. Zokan saluted and sprinted off himself, carrying the pike with surprising deftness.

“Forward march!” Jon said.

The broken sword of the Second Son’s banner twitched in a weak breeze. Limp and weak, just as the whole of their company would be once Jon and his men were done with them. Just as Zokan predicted, the Second Sons were heaving Yunkish gold into wagons. Most staggered as if drunk. The wine! Gods, she is magnificent. The wine Daenerys had gifted the Titan’s Bastard and his men slowed their sword hands as well as their wits. Jon shrieked a war cry, heeling his dapple. He ran down two, sliced another’s throat, opened another from nose to navel on the backswing. The red thing within sang along with Longclaw’s keen blade. The freedmen echoed him, falling upon the sellswords with valor and tenacity. While the sellsword company outstripped them by arms and armor, the freedmen outnumbered them. Fresh from their chains, their vengeance fueled them.

It was a glorious sight.

The brute who groped Missandei and insulted Daenerys staggered against one of the loot wagons. Jon leapt off his dapple, eager to face him on even footing. Ahorse, it would be too easy. The Titan’s Bastard drew a greatsword in one hand, an axe in the other, pitted and nicked from long use. The mocking smirk and ribald words had deserted him. Those green eyes were bleary. Drunk. Slow.

“Death is coming for you swifter than the sunrise, unless you beg me,” Jon sneered. The captain blinked uncomprehendingly.

“I would’ve liked to make this slower. Take my time. But your head will be a fine gift, Mero.”

Jon cast his senses outward. Battle was chaos, and cared nothing for vendettas. A wayward arrow would be enough to thwart him. The freedmen were holding their own against the drunken and surprised Second Sons. Comprehension dawned in those glass-green eyes.

“The Targaryen girl’s pet wolf. How many kills to your credit in the arena?”

“Thirty-six.” Jon counted Morrgys and the Twins among that number. Mero made a testing swing with the greatsword. Jon stepped back and let it sail wide with little effort.

“I’ve lost count of my kills. You’ll fade along with the rest once the ground has drunk your blood.”

“Lost count? Can’t count past ten, hmm?” Jon goaded.

Mero lunged with a greatsword overhand. The first step of the dance. The whistling blows were heavy-handed, but slow. He’d hoped for a good bloody fight. Scowling in disappointment, Jon casually sliced along Mero’s inner arm. Cursing, he dropped the axe as blood dripped down his fingers. Given time, the Titan’s Bastard would bleed out and die from that wound alone. Too easy. Jon spat in the dust to get the bitter taste of disgust from his mouth. A swaggering braggard, too poor an opponent to enjoy the fight. Much like the city of Yunkai. Overcome by Jon’s steel and Daenerys’ cleverness. Mero surged forward with a double handed grip on the greatsword. Jon arched his back as the tip of the blade whistled past his nose, balancing on the ground by the tips of his fingers. He vaulted up. Gripped Longclaw and sliced up across Mero’s torso. The tattered ringmail parted like silk before the Valyrian steel. A fount of blood gushed out. Mero, the Titan’s Bastard, was dead before he hit the ground.

Streaming sweat, blood-spattered, and his fists bruised, this was how Ser Jorah found him. The freedmen had routed the Second Sons—those who still lived surrendered their swords. Gore-spattered himself, Ser Jorah’s black Queensguard armor bore marks of hard use.

“Gods, Snow! Gather your wits. We must go report to the queen. Grey Worm and the Unsullied have the city in hand.”

Jon mounted his dapple and swiped sweat from his brow, feeling vaguely ashamed. His rage and not his loyalty had driven him to beat the slaver to death, who would have surely surrendered given the chance. He had disappointed Daenerys. Perhaps slaying Mero had balanced the scales. And he had that gift to offer her at least.

Jon saw the shine of her hair in the moonlight first. His heart seized up a little in his chest. Mounted on her silver, wearing a shirt of mail over her white linens, she looked like she was carved from moonlight. Glowing with her own light. Worthy of worship.

“The city is yours, Your Grace,” Jon said. His throat burned from thirst and shouting. A myriad of aches made themselves known, but looking at Daenerys felt as sweet as balm and cool water.

“It was just as you said. The slave soldiers threw down their swords and surrendered. Yunkai is yours,” Ser Jorah said, his love for Daenerys shining in his face. Tension drew up Daenerys’ shoulders. She knew how Ser Jorah felt . . . and did not return the regard. Jon could’ve pitied him had the older knight not been such a poisonous arse. Daenerys licked her lips. The silver shook its mane and Daenerys steadied her with a pat.

“And Daario Naharis?” she said, the words emerging in near a whisper. Jon’s scowl deepened. Damned peacock. The light died in Ser Jorah’s eyes as if Daenerys had driven a dagger into his soul.

“H—He and the Stormcrows are fighting in the city,” Ser Jorah said around a cough. After a painful silence, Jon pulled the harpy standard from his saddlebag.

“Another to add to your collection,” Jon said with a half-grimace, half-smile. Daenerys’ expression softened as she accepted the wrinkled black silk and draped it over her saddlebow.

“Thank you, Snow.”

Jon risked grasping her wrist. The contrast between her moon-pale skin and his hands, bloodied and grimy, was stark. The sight pierced him even as he delighted in the peach fuzz on her arm, the miraculous smoothness of her skin. If by some miracle he earned her love, he would besmirch her. What lord would treat with her with a bastard-born freed slave as her lover? Daenerys’ violet eyes traveled up from where his hand lay on her arm to meet his gaze. Could she feel the triphammer beat of his heart?

“The Titan’s Bastard need not trouble your dreams, Your Grace. I slew him in battle.”

Daenerys eyebrows flew upward. Jon moved to release her arm when she covered his hand with her own.

“Are you hurt?” she asked gently, her thumb smoothing his bruised knuckles. All of his attention focused on the touch of her hand. Her hand was warm, gentle, and callus-roughened from hard riding. Longing welled up from deep within. Gods, he wanted more. More of her. He would do anything to please her. His guts writhed with impossible yearning. Jon drank in her face, hoarding the sensation of her hand on his to pour over in his lonely camp bed.

“Don’t trouble yourself. I am well, Your Grace.”

“Seek your bed, Snow. You’ve earned it.” The impulse to bend and kiss her hand was almost too much to resist. Jon bowed his head over her hand instead, catching another faint whiff of her rose oil and smoke scent.

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

Jon straightened in his saddle. Ser Jorah’s blue eyes bore into him as if wishing Jon would combust. Jon held his regard without trepidation. The older knight’s glaring would accomplish nothing. Ser Jorah seethed with jealousy and pleading by turns. Jon knew what those feelings could do to a man when thwarted.

“Seek out Ser Barristan, bastard. I will guard the khaleesi on her tour of the city.”

Jon nodded and heeled his dapple toward camp. Ser Barristan greeted him ahorse his own bay courser.

“Victory, ser. The slave boys and sellswords could not stand before our queen’s army,” Jon said. Barristan the Bold, a hero of Jon’s childhood, lived up to the tales of chivalry. Despite his age, his reflexes and skill were razor sharp. Coolly polite to one another, Jon was not yet sure if he would be a mentor or antagonist. The one thing they could agree on was the importance of Daenerys’ safety.

“Excellent, Snow. Mind your horse and your weapons before you rest. I’ll wake you for watch at the hour of the bat,” Ser Barristan said.

Day Fifty-Four: Dany

Yunkai had fallen. Two of the three pillars of Slaver’s Bay were now in hand. Awash with gold and dead bodies, riches and prisoners, soldiers and freed slaves. The sellsword company the Stormcrows now fought under her banner. The Second Sons were decimated. Daario Naharis and his gold-toothed smile and blue eyes had made her heart flutter but . . . Jon Snow. Gods, the touch of his rough, bloodied hand had made her shiver. She kneaded her arm, still feeling the ghost of his touch. Fresh from battle, stinking of blood and effort. Those curls falling free from its tie. Dried blood in a rakish splatter across his cheekbones and brows. That almost pained smile. Was this his strange way of wooing her? Offering her slave’s collars, bloodied whips and torn banners? A conqueror’s flowers, she supposed. It was a sight better than Ser Jorah’s version of wooing—acting by turns jealous and hateful if she rebuffed him. Quaithe had the truth of it: a jealous seed.

Daenerys dismissed Missandei to her own bed in the small hours of the night. Missandei accepted Daenerys’ kiss on the cheek with a sleepy smile. Her handmaiden had been the only one who knew some of the Ghiscari dialects and thus was needed for translation. Daenerys watched Missandei glide between the tents. Her heart leapt to her throat as Jon appeared from down the path. Jon was on his way to relieve Aggo at watch. The two exchanged words. Doubt rippled through her as they shared a gentle embrace. Gods, the look on Jon’s face in the sliver of moonlight. Relaxed, tender. Chucking Missandei’s chin to tease a smile from her. Her throat closed.

Turning away, Daenerys threw herself on her sleeping pallet, curling into a small ball. Loneliness was perhaps a Targaryen trait. Just like her sons, she was alone in the world. The last of her kind. The hollow feeling made her innards ache. Tears burned in her eyes and in the silence, broken only by song of the wind and the music of cicadas, she let them fall.

She swam through a twisted tangle of dreams. Dead bodies in bloody repose, the gleam of yellow gold, a city burning—this was victory? Death. Stolen treasures. Freedom. Hope. I swear you my sword and my life . . . You do deserve it . . . The Titan’s Bastard need not trouble your dreams . . . Jon Snow. She could not say if she loved him, but his beauty and loyal heart captivated her attention. His calm, measured attention, his ferocity in battle. The wolf’s blood in him ran hot beneath his imperturbable calm. Her dreams had been so saturated with his face that to see him crouched over her upon waking didn’t surprise her.

“Are you well, Your Grace? You cried out in your sleep,” he murmured. The thick northern accent made the words rougher and deeper. Daenerys blinked away fresh tears, despising how fragile she felt. Her mouth worked soundlessly. Jon had bathed in the river; beads of water gleamed in his raven-black hair and he smelled faintly of soap.

A decision hardened in his eyes and he slowly tugged her close. Slow, giving her time to push away or refuse. Daenerys uttered a ragged sigh and fell into his arms. Hands fisted in his linen tunic, she breathed in the spicy scent of his skin. That half-rough voice murmured gentling words, only half-heard. The rumble of his voice in his chest was soothing. By inches, the tension began to unspool. Daenerys sagged against him. Jon rubbed circles on her back, like soothing a colicky infant. When had she felt so safe? So cared for? “What troubles you, Your Grace? Name it, I will make it right,” Jon whispered. A faint tickle of his warm breath, a faint pressure. Her belly quivered. Had he kissed her hair? That path led to madness. Gods, she craved a lover’s touch with something that was almost pain.

“I---I—I—” words failed her. Jon shifted his grip to hold her closer.

“Lay your head and rest, Your Grace. I’m here,” Jon said. The tangle of her dark dreams now seemed far away and she at last felt a measure of peace.

#jonerys fanfiction #daenerys targaryen #jon snow #gladiator!Jon #slave!Jon #queen!Dany #fp37fic #victory is in your veins

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