#vi. we don’t get to choose whom we love » alt characters.
❝ you waited for me ? ❞ asked @dreamwaited.
𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐁𝐄 𝐀 𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐒𝐄𝐋. many a prophecy had been given to her, delicately presented in the words of riddles but daenerys was not the frightened little girl that she once was. where stories terrified her into a slumber as a child, they barely caused her to flinch these days. too much pain had been inflicted upon fragile flesh ––– anguish and torment cast upon the innocent skin of a girl who had lost everything. bruises would live with her forever, following every footfall she gave akin to a rain cloud that threatened to put out the fires that she created. a dragon did not fear, though the world was a cruel place, laced with terror in each corner of a map and out here alone, nobody knew what lurked behind shadows.
❝ ––– you flatter yourself, flynn rider. ❞
words are wind, escaping from her lips designed to leave a bitter chill but buried beneath them, there is a softness. reptilian tongue was usually cloaked with confidence, as if flames were ready to scorch those who could possibly harm her. arms stubbornly envelope around her frame, as though she holds the ability to armour herself but porcelain can do little to protect a person. he will not hurt her, she can see it in his eyes. chestnut hues rain upon her with intent, as though to chip away at the dragon scales designed to defend herself and quickly, daenerys stormborn melts beneath his gaze. a sigh flees from her lungs then, thick brows unthreading as her tone softens and palms fall to her side in defeat. ❝ ––– very well, perhaps i did wait for you. it is not as if i know where i'm going. ❞
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❛ why ask for truth if you close your ears to it? ❜ from @clawedbear.
𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐀 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐑 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐄𝐍. crossing the narrow sea had always been within her reach and yet, the dragon queen could not find the strength to do so until her work in essos had been completed. wrists had been tainted by chains ; shackles restricting her destiny. she had freed herself once and yet, was now trapped by a war that she had never imagined. daenerys did not find her way to dragonstone to listen to stories of skeletal warriors who sought to bring an endless winter ––– she had come to take what belonged to her. abandoning her very own legacy, the silver haired queen had abandoned her own cause to trust in the words of a stranger. viserion was lost and he was not the only life that daenerys had sacrificed in a bid to do the right thing. the threat had been REAL but now, it was time for her to follow her own destiny.
❝ and what truth do i close my ears to, levir? cersei strengthens in the capital each day that i allow her to. ❞ palms escape from his own, body twisting to find her way to the nearest window as lilacs fall upon the ruins of winterfell where builders repair work begins. he is of the north, she tells herself through tight lips and closed eyes. her hands are still calloused and frostbitten from the war they have faced and yet, she desires to head south. for the war is not won until she finds herself on the iron throne.
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a surprise starter for @caediteos !!! ♡ ♡
“ you say that i am the prince who was promised. and what if you are wrong? ” lavendar irises flare ; the flames of torches sitting upon the walls of her battlement room. there is still a discomfort that sits within daenerys, knowing that the table had been used by others before her. dragonstone once belonged to house targaryen ––– it was her familial seat and just like the iron throne, it had been taken from them. she was certain that she could still feel all of their ghosts here ... her mother, rhaegar, elia, rhaenys and aegon. a strange part of her thought that perhaps, the ghost of viserys lived here too. only much younger and undamaged from the cruelty of the world that laid before them. exile was a punishment for those who committed treason, not for young children who had fled for their own safety.
daenerys stormborn had never truly known what home was. it seemed as though everywhere they had stopped, they would soon be on the move again. all she had wanted was a little stability ... somewhere that she could call home, even if just for a short while. she had found it in the house with the red door and the lemon tree outside her window but daenerys knew that not all fantasies could come true. soon, she would avenge her family and take back what had been stolen from them all of those years ago. the seven kingdoms were her home.
it was not her intention to doubt bellatrys, though the mother of dragons could never believe in gods. everything that had happened so far was not because it had been willed by a power far greater than them, it was because she had fought for it ; she had made her dreams come true and there were several others yet, that would follow. so far, she had broken several spokes off of the wheel that she intended to eliminate but the war had not been won yet. if the gods were real, then why would they be so cruel? fingers fumbled for the decanter on the table, filling two goblets and handing one to the priestess as she gestured to the chair beside the fire place.
“ only the prince who was promised can bring the dawn ––– ” she uttered to herself, lavendars captivated by the embers that burned before her, taking a seat herself. reptilian tongue uttered the words mindlessly, as though they had already become ingrained into her. daenerys had heard of prophecies and as much as she wished to believe it, she had listened to other men tell viserys that people drank secret toasts to his health on the other side of the narrow sea. he had been foolish enough to believe them, so why should she? a sigh caught itself in her throat, quickly numbing it with a taste of the ruby that sat in her cup. lashes left the fire, flickering to the woman who sat by her side. “ ––– tell me, what made the lord of light choose me. ”
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a surprise starter for @snakereign !!! ♡ ♡
khaleesi, mhysa, breaker of chains ––– she had been all of those things. they were names, titles that she had acquired throughout her liberation. but here in vaes dothrak, she was known as a the silver haired bitch and widow to khal drogo. they did not see her for the queen that she was, nor the vision that lived within that fragile but strong mind of hers. condemned to live her remaining days with the other widows who were slaves to the temple of dosh khaleen, daenerys had not only taken back her freedom, but those of the other widows too.
once more, she had stepped out from the flames ; unchained, unscathed and unburnt. she was the last dragon after all and the fire that burned inside of her was more powerful than any caches that might have been hidden underneath the grounds of kings landing. nobody had seen dragons in thousands of years and yet here she was, a mother to three. she would one day take the capital that had been STOLEN from her family but for now, meereen was under siege and daenerys would not allow all of her hard work to become undone ––– the free people of those cities sliding back into their collars as the masters attained their grasps once again.
still in dothraki rags, the blues of slavers bay and the gulf of grief came alight with dragon breath with no mercy ... deathly waves engulfed the seals, igniting the path to the summer sea with monstrous shades of orange and carmine, ships swallowed by the flames. tresses of platinum intertwined with one another, lacing atop of her crown and down her back in the fashion that her husband once war as though she had already predicted that this battle would be won by her. like their dragons, the targaryen’s answered to neither gods nor men and the stormborn simply knew that she could not allow the masters to go undefeated ; meereen now belonged to her.
footfalls crunched over the decay and destruction that trebuchet’s had left behind, amethyst hues searching for those that belonged to her advisers as she gazed upon missandei and greyworm for the first time. drogon lingered in the background, scales settling against the dust of the cliffside in which he had landed to allow her down whilst both viserion and rhaegal soared above ; their cries and songs echoing through the skies. beside tyrion lannister was two men whom she had not met before ... one bald, with sleeves far greater than any gown she had imagined in the stories that willem darry once told her to send her into a sleep. she could only assume that it was lord varys from the description that tyrion lannister had given her of his travel companion before he was taken as captive by jorah. the other however, much younger as though he was too around her age. though, she did not recognise him from any tales that had been fed to her.
“ forgive me ... i do not know who you are. ” taking a few more steps forward now, daenerys bowed her head ever so slightly to tyrion who stood silently. “ i know we are not in my audience chamber but i can only assume there is a reason why our paths have crossed and you are stood beside my advisers and most trusted friends. my apologies if i have kept you waiting. i was attending to ––– other matters. tell me ... what is it that i can do for you? ”
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❛ what good is an empty cup? fill it. ❜ from @clawedbear.
𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐁𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐀 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍. words rang within her mind, vicious like the flames of her children and scorching beneath her skin. they followed the blue and lilac paths of her veins, until it filled her heart with both envy and anguish. the battle had been won ; the night king defeated, along with his soldiers and yet, daenerys still felt as though she had lost. as she sailed across the narrow sea, she thought that she would have already taken kings landing by now, the iron throne finally back under the reign of house targaryen like it had once been. instead, she sacrificed everything ––– the war a great cost to her armies and the loss of viserion. daenerys had liberated people, giving them a freedom that they had never known, much like the free folk who lived beyond the wall with a person they chose as their ruler. but on this side of the sea, people looked at her with threat in their eyes. the king in the north had promised her that they would come to see her for what she truly was, though she did not see anybody giving their thanks to her.
she had already promised northern independence, knowing that her family had also been guilty of taking things that did not belong to them. together, the north and the other six kingdoms would be allies who relied on one another when it was needed. winterfell had been won ; from house bolton and the night king. and still, they celebrated jon snow for being the one to bring the dawn. he had killed the night king, no less nor more than she had. only together, had they ended the long night. he has busied himself with tormund, davos and plenty others whilst she sits alone. a sigh catches itself in her throat, lashes fluttering with overwhelm when the seat that once belonged to him becomes occupied ––– chair creaking.
❝ and what if i do not wish to drink anymore? ❞ tone is dull, reptilian words leaving her tongue with ease. amethysts land on her empty cup, ignoring the full flagon that sits beside her. she does not recognise his tone but she can tell from the husky chime to his words, that he is of the north. lifting now to address him, daenerys allows lilacs to cascade upon him, grateful at the very least that somebody wished to speak with her. tyrion was elsewhere, drinking more wine than she had known to man and jorah, settling his gratitude with samwell tarly. ❝ i was under the impression that this was supposed to feel like a celebration. ❞
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continued from here ——— @bcttcmbcttle. ♡
if daenerys had made the choice to burn every last man alive who had once found themselves to the sworn to the usurper who stole her fathers’ throne, she would be left with no allies. as much as she wished to rid the world of people who could easily conspire behind her back to plot for a new king or queen, the only true choice she had was to show these people that she was a queen worth fighting for. the plethora of braids that danced atop of her skull and slid down the small of her back, spoke volumes of her strength ––– of her power. she was the blood of the dragon and the six kingdoms were hers by being the last living heir of house targaryen.
she had the blood of old valyria running through her veins and she had made the impossible become true once more. before daenerys stormborn, there were no dragons … the dothraki had never crossed the narrow sea. the dead would not have been defeated and there would have been a tyrant still sitting on the iron throne, using bribery to trick the small folk into thinking that someone evil was on their way to come and burn their cities to the ground, murdering their children. daenerys was none of that however. she freed people from the chains in which they were forced into, giving them a choice to make the most of their life and to live as freely as they wished where they would not fear going hungry or living without shelter. there was a reason that slavers bay was now known as the bay of dragons ; zaldrizes buzdari iksos daor, a dragon is not a slave. conquering one city at a time, daenerys was slowly beginning to break the spokes off of the wheel that rolled over both essos and westeros alike. she was going to change this wretched world that they had been born into and create a harmonious place in which everybody could live.
amethysts glittered with a darkness ––– curious and daring, all at once. she had heard of people using her phrase in breaking the wheel … mostly her advisors as they repeated her own wishes to her but never anybody on this side of the sea. it seemed as though damon salvatore was an ally worth having after all. “ once you have proven yourself to be trustworthy, perhaps you could break it with me. i’m going to need all of the help that i can get from people who too feel strongly about it. ” that same glimmer continued to ignite through her irises, lips curving into a smile that knew only hope and prosperity. for a long time, she believed that the people of westeros viewed her as a foreign invader and that nobody drank secret toasts, awaiting her arrival into the seven kingdoms. but now, after hearing damon salvatore’s words, she questioned whether she had been wrong the whole time.
the notion of someone writing stories based upon her seemed overwhelming. once, she had thought that people only wrote stories about visenya and rhaeneys … true warriors of battle. and that was where that thought had been left. daenerys, on the other hand, had conquered far more battles than any of her ancestors. she had sailed the dothraki and the unsullied to westeros and had taken back what was stollen from her family. mayhaps, she deserved to have stories written of her. an eyebrow raised ; curious of his intentions, though she soon disregarded her worries and knew that if she was going to form an alliance with this man, then they may as well have seized the opportunity to get to know one another. there was no need to wait a fortnight, the mother of dragons had already made the decisions. “ if you think such stories would be grand, you could hear them all first hand over a flagon of wine in my quarters. that is, if you are in no rush back to ––– forgive me, which part of westeros did you say you were from? ”
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❝ there is nothing you cannot do. ❞ from @courtofataraxia.
𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐁𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍. though it was such resilience that daenerys targaryen could see within his own dark eyes, a lifetime of hurt and betrayal mirrored within the irises she looked into. she dare not ask, for she had tried before and silence reigned. though if there was one thing that this young lady knew of silence, it was that it always spoke far louder than words ever could. colours of crimson pool around pale skin, a phoenix risen from the ashes amidst smoke and it seemed as though simon basset could see the strength that lived inside of her. thick brows stitch together, petals parting to give way to words but it was to no prevail. lost and alone for a majority of her life, daenerys had been rendered speechless to know that someone believed in her.
there had once been a time where lady whistledown did too, her name printed upon papers that the entirety of society had obtained, though daenerys' hope was slowly starting to dwindle ... she did not want to give up her freedom so that she might rebuild and restore the glory of her house, whilst her brother sat on the sidelines and revelled in his new wealth. and whilst her heart burned for the duke of hastings, she did not wish for him to be all but a playing piece in viserys' attempts to strengthen the targaryen name. a secret she would never spill, not even to him, was that she did not feel so solemn when she was with simon. a genuine smile had painted its way upon her canvas as though she were a portrait, awaiting the eyes of noble lords and ladies within a gallery. though her face not is anything but a portrait now, it is of sadness and defeat all in one instance. ❝ ––– then if you would be so kind as to tell me your grace, why it has been this difficult in securing myself a match. surely, it is impossible to be so loveless. ❞
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