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#vi.  we don’t get to choose whom we love  »   alt characters.
stovmborn-arc · 3 years
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                        ❝  you  waited  for  me  ?  ❞   asked  @dreamwaited​​.
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 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.  ❞
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 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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stovmborn-arc · 3 years
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              ❛  why ask for truth if you close your ears to it?  ❜     from @clawedbear​​​.
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 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.  
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 ❝  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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stovmborn-arc · 4 years
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                                  a  surprise  starter  for  @caediteos​​   !!!   ♡ ♡
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             “ 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. 
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“ 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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stovmborn-arc · 4 years
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                                  a  surprise  starter  for  @snakereign​​   !!!   ♡ ♡
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             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. 
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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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stovmborn-arc · 4 years
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                 ❛  what good is an empty cup? fill it.  ❜     from @clawedbear​.
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              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.
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❝  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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stovmborn-arc · 4 years
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     continued from here       ———         @bcttcmbcttle.  ♡
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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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stovmborn-arc · 3 years
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                    ❝  there is nothing you cannot do.  ❞   from  @courtofataraxia​​.
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 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.  
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 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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