#their answer was also conquest and tyranny

[mythologyfolklore]

Babylon: Mum, what do you think the meaning of life is? Asmodeus: Hm, now that's a tricky one! I guess it would be- Asmodeus, in the most unholy, evil Demon King voice: -CRUSH YOUR ENEMIES! SEE THEM QUIVER BEFORE YOU! AND HEAR THE LAMENTATION OF THEIR WOMEN!!! Asmodeus: *goes back to normal* Or having a family! It's pretty much the same!😊 Baphomet, Mephistopheles & Babylon: ...

[robininthelabyrinth]

Subtle - ao3

Pairing: LQR/WRH Summary:

"Have you ever considered being subtle?" Wen Ruohan glanced sidelong at that-bastard-surnamed-Nie. "Are you suggesting that I'm not subtle?"

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

"Have you ever considered being subtle?" 

Wen Ruohan glanced sidelong at that-bastard-surnamed-Nie. "Are you suggesting that I'm not subtle?" he asked, tone low and insidious, suggestive of possible violence should the answer not meet with his satisfaction – and rich with the expectation that it would not, rendering the subsequent clash inevitable.

There were times when he and the Nie sect leader were on good terms, even very good indeed, and times when they were not.

At the moment, they were most definitively not.

"I'm suggesting that you've never met the concept of subtle," that-bastard-surnamed-Nie said, having apparently not realized the current state of affairs. "You're passingly acquainted with its cousin discretion, maybe. But subtle?"

He snorted.

Like the damn pig he was.

"Maybe I don't require subtlety," Wen Ruohan said. "My Qishan Wen sect -"

"Most powerful in the world, sun in the sky above us all, all good things are yours, yes, yes, I know. Heard it all before. I'm not questioning your methods -"

He was definitely questioning.

"- I'm just curious to know if it's ever even crossed your mind to try something different. I mean, it's all a bit crude, isn’t it? All pillage and slaughter, the iron fist of tyranny, the marching army, submission or the sword…I mean, no one can doubt that it’s efficient, certainly. But one can hardly call it subtle."

Wen Ruohan scowled icily, even though most of his plans for conquest really did more or less boil down to that. "Don't pretend as if you know what subtlety is yourself. Your sect isn't exactly famous for it - rather the opposite."

That-bastard-surnamed-Nie was unmoved. 

"As you're always saying, I am not my sect," he said easily. "And you're not yours. Is that a no?"

"It most certainly is not a no."

"Hm." The bastard didn't believe him. "All right, then. Whatever you say."

Wen Ruohan seethed. 

He'd show him subtle, he vowed to himself. He could be subtle. He would be subtle. He'd be so damn subtle that the bastard wouldn't see the hit coming for a thousand li, and when he finally did, it'd strike him right where it hurt most. It would take away something he didn't even realize was his to lose.

Subtle. Hah!

Wen Ruohan could do subtle.

-

Lan Qiren received a letter.

This by itself was not terribly unusual. He was acting sect leader of a Great Sect - he received a frankly dizzying number of letters. He received letters of all sorts and shapes and sizes, though most of them contained complaints of one color or another. Well, complaints, and also bills.

He hated bills. It wasn’t even that he minded paying them, when deserved, but he still loathed them. He was good enough at mathematics, even though it was far from being his passion the way obscure musical arrangements or historical depictions of ethical debate were, but he was in no way naturally inclined towards the sort of skills required in managing the economic considerations of a sect as large as his Lan sect. Not to mention also accommodating the many subsidiary sects that expected to be able to use his sect as the lender of last resort in a crisis, no matter how inconvenient that made planning his own budget...in short, it was a nightmare.

One he was never going to wake from, it seemed, though he lived in (increasingly futile) hope.

This letter, therefore, was primarily notable in that it was not a complaint. Or a bill. Or a pressing problem Lan Qiren needed to solve. On the contrary, it contained a perfectly friendly, even mildly chatty, introduction, then a request for assistance in identifying a snippet of an unusual musical score that might or might not belong to the Lan sect, accompanied by reassurances that an answer was only needed whenever he had the time and only if he had the interest, and also including the snippet itself. It was by far the most enjoyable letter Lan Qiren had received all season, and it would have been all year if not for the very effusive thank you he'd received a few months back from one of his more troubled student's parents, deeply relieved at their son’s remarkable improvement. 

Still, even compared with that, this letter was a delight.

It was also unsigned.

Please respond at your convenience using the transfer array attached to the bottom of this letter, the letter said cheerfully, as if opening an unfamiliar array inside the sect’s gate wards wasn't a recipe for trouble at minimum, disaster at maximum. Not being an idiot, Lan Qiren promptly took the array to be examined by his sect's specialists, and he was even now waiting for their reply.

There was every chance that the letter was part of some sort of plot, Lan Qiren reminded himself diligently. His interest in musical arrangements was well known, and could therefore be targeted through a well-tailored appeal. The letter could even contain some sort of poison or curse aimed at crippling him, and through him his sect; such things were not unheard of. There was no point in giving it another thought until that gating question had been resolved. 

Only...he was giving it some thought.

Mostly about that music score, which itched in the back of his brain - he was pretty sure it was Lan sect in origin, although nothing out of their usual rotation of spell-songs. A private composition, perhaps, which meant thar the only way to identify it would be through a stylistic comparison with other examples -

You do not have time for this, Lan Qiren reminded himself. You are not helping until you know whether it is worthwhile to do so.

It would have been much easier if only the letter had been signed! Lan Qiren would have been more than happy to help if the requestor had been one of the smaller sects, or even a rogue cultivator with a little fame, just enough to be recognizable. To refuse to sign a name - any name - suggested either something to hide or a profound need for privacy, which one wouldn't have expected for something as measly as a few questions about music. It was suspicious!

It was music.

It was the most fun Lan Qiren had had in months, and he hadn't even started properly digging into it yet.

He liked research, liked music, liked helping people - in fact, the reason he was quite so suspicious of the letter was because it was exactly the sort of thing he liked most. At this stage in his life, Lan Qiren had long since accepted that there was no such thing as an unasked-for turn of luck, no silver lining without its accompanying cloud...

Still, it was hard to see what sort of plot could be advanced by an academic request regarding music. Maybe the requestor was simply too embarrassed to reveal their identity - one of the other musical cultivation sects, perhaps, that didn't want to admit to their ignorance. That would be quite reasonable, and under such a situation it would not be unreasonable for Lan Qiren to provide the asked-for aid. The Lan sect rules counseled prioritizing chivalry and graciousness, after all. He would be perfectly justified in diverting some of his limited time to visiting the library, perusing old volumes, even taking notes...

Lan Qiren sighed to himself.

"Teacher?"

He blinked, roused from his reverie, and found that it was a disciple, one he recognized: it was one of the apprentices to the specialists in the talismanic arts. He was holding the letter in his hands.

Lan Qiren felt an unaccustomed frisson of excitement. If the specialists had determined the letter to contain harmful substances, it would not be returned to him at all. There was still the possibility that it had been deemed to involve some sort of plot, but...

"What is the honorable masters’ conclusion?" he asked politely, trying to suppress his excitement.

"There appears to be nothing wrong with the letter, Teacher,” the disciple reported. “The transfer array at the back is a little unusual, but mostly for being so old fashioned - it was once a popular method for discrete correspondence, despite the strain and cost involved in using it. Later a method for detecting and even interfering with such messages was discovered and the use fell out of favor."

Lan Qiren hummed thoughtfully. He hadn’t heard of such a method; it must have been before his time, or something only of interest to people who studied obscure arrays and talismans. "What does it involve?"

"The array must be personally crafted by an expert that is familiar with the craft, and the sender must put in a considerable amount of spiritual energy in order to charge the array for use. Once charged, the recipient can use the array to send correspondence back to the sender until the spiritual energy in the array has been exhausted."

Lan Qiren's eyebrows arched despite himself. "The transfer is immediate?"

"Unfortunately not, Teacher. The spiritual energy travels through the air. Sending a messenger by sword, or even by horse, is likely more efficient."

"Only if you know where the recipient is," Lan Qiren said, reaching up to stroke his beard. "And of course spiritual energy is far more discreet than a messenger. I am unsurprised that it was once popular, whether for diplomatic missives or even spy-craft."

"Just so, Teacher. Unfortunately, the sect that discovered the countermeasures was Qishan Wen, so..."

Lan Qiren didn't grimace outright, though he was tempted. "Yes, I can see why the method's popularity waned."

The Wen sect had always been ambitious. There was the current Wen Ruohan, who was constantly scheming to expand his power and influence, and by historical accounts, prior generations had been no better and were quite likely worse. 

Still -

"I see why the array was included," Lan Qiren said. "It serves as both a method to ensure discretion and as an offer of payment. Please inform the elders that I intend to accept, and will offer my assistance with the question in exchange for commissioning the sender for another of these arrays for my own use."

The disciple looked surprised. "What for, Teacher? If it's not secure..."

"Security matters only when the contents are confidential," Lan Qiren explained. "Such an array would be invaluable when corresponding with someone with no fixed location. For instance, disciples out on a night hunt."

Or, for another example, a rogue cultivator family constantly on the move. Lan Qiren had long maintained a correspondence with Cangse Sanren, primarily through her determined efforts, but it had by necessity been largely one-sided to date. Even if he received a letter from her from Jiangnan, by the time it arrived and his reply composed, she might already be in Henan. He was only able to gather his thoughts and wait patiently for her next visit to the Cloud Recesses, or else count on luck to have them cross paths elsewhere. This array would not improve the speed of their interchanges, but it would give Lan Qiren the chance to write back, no matter where she was when he did so, and in return she could always send something if she happened to find herself in an urgent situation far away from any post.

His mood significantly improved, Lan Qiren dismissed the disciple and carried on with the paperwork he still had to complete. Diligence came first, pleasure only later - thus were good habits formed and maintained. 

But later...

Research on a matter of great interest to him, a valid excuse to spend time on it, and even the possibility of repairing an old regret and improving a friendship - really, Lan Qiren could not be more pleased with his mysterious correspondent, anonymous or not. He could even say that he'd formed a rather favorable impression of whoever it was, and perhaps even go so far as to hope this would not be the only letter they exchanged. Lan Qiren liked fellow scholars best of all, and he had painfully few friends; it would be nice to increase their number, even remotely.

He would write back with a preliminary response this evening, he decided, and take some time over the next few days to look through their library. It would not be inappropriate to show his correspondent some measure of his enthusiasm and sincerity...

-

Wen Ruohan felt a small twinge in his qi, signifying that a part of it had been consumed. It was not an inconsiderable amount - for a weaker cultivator, it might be exhausting, while even a stronger cultivator would notice the strain of the effort, though it wouldn't slow them down too much. For someone of Wen Ruohan’s caliber, it was of course not even worth mentioning. 

Lan Qiren had already responded to his last letter, it seemed.

Smiling faintly to himself, inadvertently terrifying the majority of his lieutenants currently attending to him, Wen Ruohan dismissed his audience and rose to return to his study, where he had set the receiving array. 

He had been the one to create the letter transportation array, back when he was much younger and his primary concern had been satisfying his little brother’s obsession with collecting trinkets, though one of his brothers had figured out the potential use of it for spycraft first and claimed it in his own name. Not that it did him much good – he was known to be stupid, the way the Wen clan regretfully sometimes tended to be when they weren’t ambitious or cunning enough to get themselves out of it – and so everyone had ascribed the original invention to whatever little sect he had just demolished. Wen Ruohan hadn’t very much cared back then, having not yet decided to jump into the race for the position of sect leader; later, when he decided it was time to start caring, he had simply invented a countermeasure and employed it to great effect.

As far as he could tell – and if he couldn’t, no one could – there were at the present moment in time only two such arrays currently in existence, both created by him: the one he used to contact Lan Qiren, and the one Lan Qiren used to write letters to his little rouge cultivator friend, Baoshan Sanren’s disciple.

Wen Ruohan naturally was able to read all of those as well, and of course he did. He’d found himself unexpectedly amused by her consistent teasing and Lan Qiren’s querulous and too-earnest responses. There was not a hint of romance there, as he’d initially expected to find, but there were some very funny and rather uncomplimentary asides about Jiang Fengmian that revealed an entirely unexpected layer of petty nastiness in Lan Qiren, which by itself would have made the whole business worthwhile.

Not that it wasn’t otherwise worthwhile.

Lan Qiren wrote to both of them, Cangse Sanren and (unknowingly) Wen Ruohan, but the letters he sent to Wen Ruohan were by far the more common.

In fact, Wen Ruohan had to admit that he was a little surprised at the alacrity of Lan Qiren's responses. Naturally he was well aware of how starved for company the other man was, how lonely, and indeed he had been counting on it to ensure that his plan would be a success. And it was a success, an astounding one - only a few months in, and Lao Nie was already complaining under his breath that Lan Qiren never seemed to have much time for him these days, always busy writing letters or doing research. It was only that he'd underestimated, well...

No, let him be blunt: he'd underestimated Lan Qiren’s genius. 

It was not much consolation that everyone else had apparently missed it as well. Wen Ruohan had picked his first few requests quite carefully, old Lan sect tunes that had been very briefly popular decades ago, but not popular enough or in rotation long enough to be included in the sect's regular canon or even recorded in their histories. He was baiting a trap for a Lan, after all; it wouldn't do to send Lan Qiren a problem he wouldn't be able to solve. He'd figured that the examples he'd picked would last him half a year or even more.

Lan Qiren had identified them all within a month.

Moreover, he'd explained the rationale of his deductions - comparing first underlying composition styles to identify the approximate time period, then sorting the whole era by idiosyncratic musical quirks, which was insane - and even offered some helpful suggestions on improvements to solving the mostly non-existent problems Wen Ruohan had been pretending to have. He specified 'mostly' because while he had indeed been pretending at the start, Lan Qiren's proposed solutions had been so effective that he'd actually started implementing some of them in various parts of his extensive domain. 

Most recently, he'd even taken to asking about real problems he was obligated as sect leader to solve, of which there were always a multitude, and in turn getting real answers. It was fantastic. He was resolving issues that his entire cadre of advisors had failed to even come up with ideas to tackle, and with remarkable swiftness. His entire sect was reconvinced all over again that he was a genius! Which of course he was, but in this instance it wasn't entirely due to him. Or rather it was, indirectly, but only in the sense that knowing how to properly utilize personnel was also a form of genius.

Lan Qiren had even somehow divined from Wen Ruohan’s manner of asking questions that his true interest was in arrays, not strictly music, and had modified his explanations accordingly, including more details regarding of the underlying spellcrafting and taking extra time to explain some of the more obscure music-only concepts. He hadn't figured out that his anonymous correspondent was Wen Ruohan, which was only reasonable, Wen Ruohan being these days more famous for his tyranny than his talent for arrays - which was actually a little annoying if he thought about it too long - but their correspondence had certainly become a great deal more fun ever since. It was nice to have his interests catered to, even interests that he had very nearly forgotten that he had.

Wen Ruohan might not have had much time for academia in the past few decades, but he had once been one of the most accomplished and recognized in his field, and like most academics, he loved his subject. He hadn't had a willing ear, as opposed to a terrified and inadvertently coerced one, for years upon years now, and in all truth he'd forgotten how enjoyable it could be to talk about cultivation simply for the sake of increasing his knowledge, rather than always considering it as a matter of power.

Not that he'd forgotten about power.

His plan to seduce Lan Qiren by proxy was working splendidly, and it wasn't as if he'd planned to start extracting secrets from the man until he'd built up at least a year or two of acquaintance. Nothing had changed there, other than the fact that Wen Ruohan was having an unexpectedly good time doing it. And solving problems for his sect in the meantime, which was always a plus - though of course he'd have to be careful there. He couldn't let the far too clever Lan Qiren have a chance to put together his recent correspondence with the Wen sect's recent successes. He would, too, given even the smallest little hint.

He was too clever not to.

Perhaps for the next set of letters Wen Ruohan would pick something a little more theoretical, more purely academic rather than practical. Maybe he could dig something up from his old notes, the ones he’d kept from back when he used to occupy his days with research and cultivation and experimenting with talismans and arrays. It'd been ages, long enough that he barely remembered it, but a little study should be enough to get him back into shape. And then he could get Lan Qiren to focus on that, which had no known connection to the Wen Ruohan of today...yes, that would do quite well.

It might even be fun.

Who would have expected that?

-

"I took your advice," Lao Nie said to Lan Qiren, who was just finishing pouring tea for them both.

"I wasn't aware I had given you advice," Lan Qiren said, then added, dryly, "Or that you ever listened when I did. The last time we met, we argued, did we not?"

"We did, we did," Lao Nie agreed, completely unswayed by any reasonable criticism, as was his fashion. "I'm not saying you're wrong that I've been acting a little atrociously with regard to Wen Ruohan, though I still don't plan to change anything -"

"That is functionally the same thing."

"I don't understand why you even care about him. No, don't say you don't; I don't see you getting involved in other sect leaders' relationships, do I?"

"Most sect leaders are not my friends, as you are, and they have not decided to start a liaison with the most powerful cultivator currently alive and then cheat on him – and not just once, but twice – "

"Now, we don't need to rehash all that," Lao Nie hastily interrupted. "By chance, it was to that argument which I was referring, in fact. You might recall that about halfway through you called me - what was it - it started with 'lumbering' -"

"A lumbering uncouth bull charging around a porcelain shop without the slightest sense of presence, wholly incapable of tact, discretion or subtlety?"

"...ouch. Somehow that's even worse than I remembered." Lao Nie rubbed his forehead, then shrugged it off. "Anyway, I then said I was totally capable of subtlety, and you said 'I'll believe it when I see it' -"

"To be precise, I said that you had hitherto not demonstrated any instances of such behavior to the best of my knowledge."

"Same thing. Anyway, I decided that I would try it out."

Lan Qiren frowned. "Try what out?"

"Being subtle. Anyway, I think it worked!"

"...congratulations." Lan Qiren sighed. "What exactly did you do?"

"As if I'd tell you the details-"

"You have no idea what exactly you did, do you."

"No, not as such. But it worked! Wen Ruohan is way too busy with whatever his current scheme is to be angry at me. Or angry enough to kill me, anyway; he’s still not exactly pleased."

Now it was Lan Qiren's turn to rub his temples. "Should I be worried? Or rather, should we all be concerned, given the end results of most of Wen Ruohan’s schemes?"

"You're such a pessimist." Lao Nie chuckled and picked up his teacup. "Maybe he's just picked up a hobby again...? A non-torture hobby, even. Surely he could find one of those."

Lan Qiren snorted disdainfully.

"Yeah, I don't think it's likely either," Lao Nie conceded. "I'll let you know as soon as I have some idea of what he's up to. Anyway, enough about me. Tell me more about you! Tell me about your new love interest -"

"It's not like that," Lan Qiren protested, but he had started smiling in a way that might open him up to criticism based on the Lan sect's rule against smiling foolishly. His ears had even gone a little pink! "We are only acquaintances at best, not even friends, much less that. I do not even know their name..."

"And yet you knew exactly who I was referring to, didn't you?" Lao Nie pointed out, and had the pleasure of seeing Lan Qiren blush and stutter out a half-hearted denial. "Qiren, really, even if you only get a new friend out of it, I couldn't be more pleased for you! But I'm telling you, at this point whoever it is? They’re just looking for excuses to write back."

"Nonsense. They have posed genuine problems in need of solving."

"No one has a territory with that many problems at once, Qiren, not even the Great Sects. Not even Wen Ruohan! They just want to keep talking."

Lan Qiren coughed. "Well, perhaps. It's no business of mine what their motives are, provided they do not cause harm...though I admit I have been enjoying receiving their letters. Even enjoying immensely."

"Oh, well, if it's enjoying immensely, then I suppose I can forgive you for forgetting about little old me -"

"Lao Nie!"

Lao Nie laughed. "Don't worry about it, Qiren. I really am glad for you. You should be immersing yourself in the joy of a new relationship -"

"I told you, it is not -"

"Not necessarily romantic," Lao Nie said, though if it wasn't romantic he'd eat his boots. Lan Qiren had never blushed over one of his letters, to be sure...though presumably it was the content that was the issue. Not that the contents here were standard sweettalk! What Lan Qiren found romantic in receiving an array based on a musical composition meant to clear murky water, Lao Nie had no idea, even if it was a composition of Lan Qiren's own making, based on something he’d written about one of his nephews.

Scholars. Who could understand them? Even Wen Ruohan had the same tendencies, deep down, and he'd been more warlord than scholar for as long as Lan Qiren had been alive.

Actually, sometimes Lao Nie did get a little worried about what Wen Ruohan was now cooking up. Whatever it was, it was making him smile - actually smile, rather than the usual dead eye smirks he typically favored - nearly as much as Lan Qiren was now, and knowing Wen Ruohan’s temperament, the cause could be anything from genocidal atrocity to a particularly good witticism. 

If only he could figure out a way to get Wen Ruohan to fall in love with somebody! Now that would solve all their problems - including, yes, the ones he'd created for himself though some concededly less-than-wise romantic decisions. Wen Ruohan had an obsessive personality: if he fell in love, really in love, he would move heaven and earth to win his lover's favor, and that would probably distract him from all that torture and world domination and such. 

Unfortunately, as far as Lao Nie could figure out, the only thing that Wen Ruohan was attracted to was power, either for himself or for his sect, and also being the first one to discover or exploit that power. Which was a hell of an ask. It wasn't as though Lao Nie could pull an underappreciated genius out from his sleeve to throw at Wen Ruohan...

Oh, well.

Whatever it was that Wen Ruohan was planning, they'd find a way to deal with it. 

In the meantime, he had Lan Qiren to tease. 

Such fun!

[arclundarchivist]

[Spoilers C3E99]

-

-

Thinking about who isn’t on Aeor right now.

We have Mercy and Death, Nature and Knowledge, Deceit and Destruction.

And while Etharis is notably absent, she isn’t alone. But why would the Goddess of Civilization come to witness the destruction of the last great sky city? Why would she play her hand? How could law personally create such chaos? So she sends a being… that seems to my eyes to be born of Elemental Chaos, and what *love* does it bring with it?

But there are others.

Kord is waiting in the wings. For the battle has yet to truly begin, but when it does he will be ready.

Yet Avandra. Bahamut. Moradin. Where are they?

Freedom and change doesn’t stand against Aeor’s tyranny yet, perhaps she sees the tyranny the gods themselves have wrote upon the world in their conflicts.

Justice and Honor are not here in Aeor. Does that mean he believes what they do is wrong?

And the Moonweaver? Why does the goddess of trickery not play her hand in this caper?

Moradin is a god of creation and craft, how could he take part in the dismemberment and what is more destruction of the last great edifice of the Arcanum?

And those Betrayers that ignored their kin to follow their own pursuits?

Bane *is* tyranny, is conquest. Is he too focused on forging his domain to care, or does the tyranny of Aeor empower him all the same even if they refuse to pay homage to any?

What of Tiamat? Does she simply stay away because her twin is also missing? Are they too embroiled in their own conflicts? Is there nothing for her to cover in this place? Did her envy consume her enough that she can only look upon her siblings in scorn?

And Zehir, the snake, the spy, the bloodletter, why would the god of murder not wish to wet his hands in the blood of a city so old and defiant? They wish to kill him. Does he respect that wish? Or is he simply eager to watch the pair he hates walk in *his* domain

There is so much a *want to know* but I’m not sure there will be answers.

[monsterkong]

The Legacy of Julius Caesar - Hero or Tyrant?

Julius Caesar is one of history’s most polarizing figures—a man whose actions forever altered the course of the Roman Empire. But was he a hero who championed the cause of the common people, or a tyrant who destroyed the Republic? The truth, as with many historical figures, lies somewhere in between. 🌟

The Early Years: A Man of the People

Caesar was born into a patrician family, but his early life was marked by financial struggles. Unlike many of his peers, who inherited vast wealth, Caesar had to borrow money to fund his political career. Despite these challenges, he quickly rose through the ranks, becoming a powerful advocate for the Roman people. His populist policies, such as land redistribution and tax relief, earned him the support of the masses but made him enemies among the Roman elite. 💰

Caesar’s rise to power was bolstered by his military success, particularly his conquest of Gaul. His campaigns not only expanded Rome’s territories but also filled its coffers with gold and slaves. However, these victories came at a cost—Caesar’s brutal tactics led to the deaths of hundreds of thousands of people, earning him a reputation as a ruthless military commander.

Crossing the Rubicon: The Point of No Return

By 49 BC, Caesar’s enemies in Rome were determined to bring him down. Led by Pompey the Great and Cato the Younger, they accused Caesar of crimes committed during his time as consul and in Gaul. Caesar knew that if he returned to Rome without his army, he would be arrested and possibly executed. Faced with this dilemma, he made a fateful decision: he would march on Rome with his army, crossing the Rubicon River—a point of no return. 🌉

This act of insurrection marked the beginning of the Roman Civil War. Caesar’s enemies, realizing they had underestimated him, fled Rome, leaving the city in chaos. Over the next few years, Caesar hunted down his enemies one by one, eventually emerging as the undisputed ruler of Rome. In 44 BC, he was declared dictator for life—a title that many saw as a threat to the Republic.

The Reforms and the Assassination

During his brief time as dictator, Caesar implemented a series of reforms that had a lasting impact on Rome. He reformed the calendar, creating the Julian calendar that we still use today, and introduced laws that improved the lives of the common people. But his efforts to centralize power and bypass the Senate alienated many in the Roman political class. 😡

On the Ides of March, 44 BC, a group of senators, including his former ally Brutus, conspired to assassinate him. Caesar was stabbed to death in the Senate, his murder seen as an attempt to save the Republic from tyranny. But instead of restoring the Republic, Caesar’s assassination plunged Rome into another round of civil wars, leading to the rise of his adopted heir, Octavian, who would become Rome’s first emperor, Augustus.

The Legacy of Julius Caesar

So, was Julius Caesar a hero or a tyrant? The answer depends on whom you ask. To the Roman elite, he was a tyrant who destroyed the Republic. But to the common people, he was a hero who stood up to the corrupt ruling class and fought for their rights. 📜

Caesar’s legacy is complex. On one hand, he implemented reforms that benefited the masses and laid the foundation for the Roman Empire. On the other hand, his actions contributed to the collapse of the Republic and the rise of autocratic rule. His life and death serve as a reminder of the dangers of concentrated power and the fragility of political systems.

In the end, Julius Caesar remains one of history’s most fascinating figures—a man whose ambition and charisma shaped the course of Western civilization. Whether you see him as a hero or a tyrant, there’s no denying the impact he had on the world. 🌍

[dk-thrive]

The good guys don't always win

And we speak of peace now, when war is raging, a war born of one man’s tyranny and greed for power and conquest; and another bitter conflict has exploded in Israel and the Gaza Strip. Peace, right now, feels like a fantasy born of a narcotic smoked in a pipe. Peace is a hard thing to make, and a hard thing to find. And yet we yearn for it, not only the great peace that comes at the end of war, but also the little peace of our private lives, to feel ourselves at peace with ourselves, and the little world around us. It is one of our great values, a thing ardently to pursue…

My fate, over the past many years, has been to drink from the bottle marked Freedom, and therefore to write, without any restraint, those books that came to my mind to write. And now, as I am on the verge of publishing my 22nd, I have to say that on 21 of those 22 occasions, the elixir has been well worth drinking, and it has given me a good life doing the only work I ever wanted to do.

On the remaining occasion, namely the publication of my fourth novel, I learned – many of us learned – that freedom can create an equal and opposite reaction from the forces of unfreedom. I learned, too, how to face the consequences of that reaction, and to continue, as best I could, to be as unfettered an artist as I had always wished to be. I learned, too, that many other writers and artists, exercising their freedom, also faced the forces of unfreedom, and that, in short, freedom can be a dangerous wine to drink.

But that made it more necessary, more essential, more important to defend, and I have done my best, along with a host of others, to defend it. I confess there have been times when I’d rather have drunk the Peace elixir and spent my life sitting under a tree wearing a blissful, beatific smile, but that was not the bottle the pedlar handed me.

We live in a time I did not think I would see, a time when freedom – and in particular, freedom of expression, without which the world of books could not exist – is everywhere under attack from reactionary, authoritarian, populist, demagogic, half-educated, narcissistic, careless voices; when places of education and libraries are subject to hostility and censorship; and when extremist religion and bigoted ideologies have begun to intrude in areas of life in which they do not belong. And there are also progressive voices being raised in favour of a new kind of bien-pensant censorship, one that appears virtuous, and which many people, especially young people, have begun to see as a virtue.

So freedom is under pressure from the left as well as the right, the young as well as the old. This is something new, made more complicated by our new tools of communication, the internet, on which well-designed pages of malevolent lies sit side by side with the truth, and it is difficult for many people to tell which is which; and our social media, where the idea of freedom is every day abused to permit, very often, a kind of online mob rule, which the billionaire owners of these platforms seem increasingly willing to encourage, and to profit by.

What do we do about free speech when it is so widely abused? We should still do, with renewed vigour, what we have always needed to do: to answer bad speech with better speech, to counter false narratives with better narratives, to answer hate with love, and to believe that the truth can still succeed even in an age of lies. We must defend it fiercely and define it broadly. We should of course defend speech that offends us, otherwise we are not defending free expression at all.

— Salman Rushdie, from “The good guys don’t always win” (The Guardian, November 8, 2023)

[scriobh-an-iontas]

And now that you've answered that, why not sit back and enjoy a brief history of the American Revolution:

First, the Seven Years War happens. It's mostly thought of as having been fought in Europe, but a campaign (not that kind) is also fought in North America. It is called "The French and Indian War" by the locals.

Britain wins the war against France, and subsequently gets the rights to all land east of the Mississippi river.

Colonialists start moving onto native land, probably with a lot of aggression and arrogance. This is ok so far as Britain is concerned, because they assume that the colonialists can play nice with the natives.

That is not the case. As such, the natives push back against them. 500+ colonialists die during this conflict.

Britain realizes that the colonialists CAN'T play nice and forbids them from going west of Appalachian mountains. Troops are sent to enforce this. Taxes are raised to support the troops, levied mostly on the colonies because they're the reason this mess exists at all.

Wealthy Land / Business Owners get frustrated by Britain imposing its will on the colonies and disallowing them from spreading West. Sure, taxes are bad, but it probably wasn't the little folks paying the lion's share of them, except insofar as the fees associated with them are concerned, but you pay sales taxes, so you know that heavy toll already.

Unhappy working class colonialists don't like paying those extra fees, like any USAmerican doesn't like, but this dislike is further stoked into unhappiness via propaganda until war is inevitable.

France, convinced by wealthy colonialists, backs to revolution as a "fuck you" to Britain ("We can't have land in the Americas? Fine. You don't get your precious colonies, either")

America is born! If you're a wealthy white man you're free to do whatever! Otherwise you can fuck off.

Imperialist conquest of the continent begins in earnest ("but really it's just our Manifest Destiny to control the whole continent so it's alright").

+++++

Ultimately, if they don't benefit the wealthy, any establishment of rights in USAmerica regarding a disenfranchised group only happens after massive civil disruption.

Said rights are never seen as good by the establishment, only as the necessary price for keeping/restoring the peace.

For Example:

The north fought the civil war to keep the south in the union. The south fought the civil war to keep their slaves.

If Lincoln hadn't been killed and his VP hadn't bungled things as much as he did, there would be no amendment regarding slavery, it would be a purely legislative matter, not a constitutional one.

This means that, if Lincoln lived, we'd need to worry about republicans overturning anti-slavery laws too, in addition to everything else.

[resonsibleeconomiceducation]

Capitalism’s Prescient Critics

There is a strong case to be made that the birth and spread of capitalist imperialism defines the twentieth century more than anything else. That is not what most schoolchildren are taught or what most people in the West believe, but it is an unavoidable conclusion.

Not only was capitalism directly responsible for provoking the bloodiest wars in history, it has also been the single biggest driver of mass starvation, environmental devastation, and economic exploitation in modern times.

According to historian Mike Davis, in his landmark study Late Victorian Holocausts (2001), at least 50 million people died of famine in the late 19th century—not because of natural disasters, but because of the forced market policies of the British Empire. Similarly, economist Ha-Joon Chang points out in Kicking Away the Ladder (2002) that capitalist policies imposed on developing nations in the 20th century led to systemic poverty, debt slavery, and economic ruin for billions.

The human toll of capitalism far exceeds the horrors of any other system in history—not through secret police or mass executions, but through rigged economies, corporate greed, and endless war.

The full horror of this capitalist holocaust cannot, of course, be adequately conveyed by these grim statistics. Behind them lies a vast, desolate landscape of sweatshops, child labor, indentured servitude, land dispossession, mass debt, and forced migrations—all done in the name of "free markets".

In fact, nothing illustrates the destructive impact of capitalism more vividly than the oceans of refugees it has generated through war and economic conquest. The U.S.-backed wars in Vietnam, Iraq, and Latin America alone displaced millions, while capitalist-driven climate change threatens to force entire nations to flee their homelands in the coming decades.

And yet, just like the apologists for totalitarianism, defenders of capitalism refuse to acknowledge this devastation. Instead, they claim:

“That’s not what we mean!”

Totalitarian Logic

What has driven this vast tide of human suffering? Why do capitalist states routinely crush workers’ uprisings, sponsor coups against democratic governments, and wage imperialist wars?

The greatest economist of the last century has given us the answer. To quote John Maynard Keynes:

"Capitalism is the astounding belief that the wickedest of men will do the wickedest of things for the greatest good of everyone."

It was, therefore, always predictable that by requiring the privatization of all land, labor, and capital, capitalism would inevitably lead to mass exploitation, financial crises, and corporate tyranny.

One-party corporate rule

Secret police protecting oligarchs

The imprisonment of union leaders

The silencing of journalists and activists

The use of military force to protect corporate interests

All of these horrors have been the inevitable result of the concentration of wealth and power under capitalism.

As the legendary labor leader Eugene V. Debs once wrote:

“The capitalist class is represented in every war, every prison, every court, every sweatshop. It owns the press, the banks, the factories, the land, and even the politicians who claim to serve you. Yet when you demand a fair share, they cry ‘socialism!’” (Walls and Bars, 1927)

And yet, despite overwhelming evidence, today’s free-market fundamentalists still cling to the fantasy that capitalism can be "democratic." They continue to chase the phantom of "benevolent capitalism," pretending that market forces can somehow be restrained by "ethics" and "self-regulation."

The great socialist thinkers of the 19th century harbored no such illusions. Every single one of them foresaw that unregulated markets would inevitably lead to economic domination by the wealthy elite.

The Tragedy of Pre-Capitalist Societies

What is so tragic about the rise of global capitalism is that it destroyed vibrant, self-sufficient economies in the name of "progress."

As historian Walter Rodney points out in How Europe Underdeveloped Africa (1972):

"Before European capitalism arrived, African and Asian societies thrived with complex economic systems, long-distance trade, and sophisticated agriculture. It was only after the forced imposition of ‘free trade’ that they collapsed into poverty."

By the early 1900s, capitalism had already:

Enslaved millions through indentured servitude.

Eliminated subsistence farming, forcing entire populations into factory work and wage slavery.

Destroyed local industries through rigged trade policies.

Transferred trillions in wealth from the Global South to Western imperial powers.

And yet, just like apologists for colonialism, capitalists pretend that this never happened. Instead, they tell us that "poverty is natural," that the Third World "failed itself," and that the rich earned their wealth fairly.

But even now, as capitalism fails billions, they still insist: "That’s not what we mean!"

Capitalism = Force

Those who defend capitalism claim that it is a system of voluntary exchange, not coercion. But is it?

When corporations crush unions with police violence, is that voluntary?

When landlords evict entire families to maximize profits, is that voluntary?

When billionaires buy elections and write the laws, is that voluntary?

When wages are too low to live on but people must work or starve, is that voluntary?

As the economist Karl Polanyi wrote in The Great Transformation (1944):

"Capitalism was not the product of 'free choice.' It was imposed through conquest, enclosure, and law. It survives only because alternatives are violently suppressed."

It is a historic tragedy that all these warnings fell on deaf ears. Will they be heeded by those pressing for world government in the twenty-first century? [original article](https://fee.org/ebooks/the-xyz-s-of-socialism/#link-7)

[paradife-loft]

yeah if anybody was generally wondering where I’ve been this past (couple?) weeks. the answer is “getting sucked back into playing Tyranny during all my spare time”.

(bring-your-own-blorbo rambling below)

so - I’m partway through Act II; sided (so far?) with the Scarlet Chorus and have just finished up grabbing the Silent Archive out of the burning library. exchanging correspondence with my fellow Fatebinders. and I am just - rubbing my little hands together gleefully at the transition underway from “polite, dutiful, kind of nerdy and curious ~servant of justice!~” to “sneaky, mildly conniving and paranoid, power-hungry, semi-treasonous-but-still-loyal-to-Kyros-regarding-everything-other-than-forbidden-magic-for-me-personally-I-swear!!!” jackass protagonist >:D >:D >:D

because there’s just... something so very interesting that the game is doing in how it’s conveying worldbuilding information to you (the player) and you (the protagonist) at the same time - you start out assuming, ok, rival armies of Kyros, cool, wow these guys are acting unprofessional.... and then some conversation with the Voices of Nerat, among other things, and you increasingly gain the understanding - [the Chorus] isn’t a... top-down Imperial Army, exactly? neither of them are? this is “somewhat autonomous force created for Nerat’s own benefits, allowed to do whatever it feels like so long as it’s also aimed at Kyros’s overall goals, because Kyros just sort of eats up existing powers and turns them loose on their enemies? it’s the same with the two armies; it’s the same with the Archons writ-large - Archons develop independently, and then Kyros essentially leashes them. the conversations with Sirin about her history!! the various lines you can say about Kyros’s peace being about the benefit of the whole, not necessarily individuals! ....and then oh, you open up your mail from Fatebinder Myothis responding to your question about the rise of past and present Archons, and she’s like “at this point, regardless of whether others are naming it, I would consider you an Archon of the Spires” - f e a r !!!!!

so this whole sense of being.. precariously balanced on a knife’s edge, in a couple of ways. do I want power/do I want to be seen to be gaining more power/is it even safe to not gain more power now that I’m as known as I am/but then that’s surely going to trap me into a cycle of “only allowed to exist so long as I’m still being useful and nonthreatening”. and then... after originally going to the Vellum Citadel during the Conquest, on the vague feeling of “ooh library what if I can get anything cool out of being here --> nope actually you are going to burn it all now”, being literally sent back there and handed the entire Silent Archive on a platter!!! ...but how open can I even be about that. who do I trust. like it’s not all forbidden stuff but also, I do very much also want to keep the forbidden stuff. (and now I’ve proclaimed and ended two entire Edicts, and magically that feels... so good. powerful and addicting and I am thinking about more of them, that can of worms has been thoroughly opened. and also Eb’s comment when she pressed me about why I joined with the Voices in the first place, “well if raw, unmitigated power is what gets you off [disapproving]”....... How Much Do I Want To Navel Gaze At That Feeling, Really? :’) .........so yeah)

(oh and also, just Eb in general, is Not A Fan I think we shall say.... which is really pretty fair because I think she’s getting to see the main brunt of Ways In Which I’m Kind of A Jackass - not merciful at all toward any sort of enemy who doesn’t humble themself before Kyros. tactfully Not Saying Much about her anger toward the Sages for stealing other schools’ magical secrets, but like. she knows I would/do take the Sages’ side on that issue, and am basically inclined to do the same in their place. again, the entire fact of siding with the Voices (and frequently frequently wiggling out of condemning them..... not that they don’t do horrible things and also I disapprove of their entire army-running philosophy, but like. the disgust toward them seems so tangled up also in disgust toward what they do magically, and sure consuming minds is unsettling but it’s also. power. and kind of enticing. and we are not going to mention this at all nope definitely not.)

anyway yeah :D I’m having a lot of fun getting to be sorta fucked up and awful, and also going *grabby hands* at all the magical mysteries slowly unfurling so far :3

[butwhatifidothis]

But...Byleth wasn't unemotive because they were a mercenary, they were unemotive because of the fact Sothis hadn't woken up. Like I said, you're injecting a negative viewpoint where there isn't any.

As much as people would LIKE for it to be Crimson Flower is NOT a villain route, as villain routes usually have you as the bad guy. The villainous actions are addressed. Instead you're potrayed about as much (if slightly less with the whole conquest thing) of a hero as the other routes, complete with the Black Eagles becoming the underdog and being short on troops, and Edelgard fighting directly on the frontlines. Sure we can call it the villain route since Edelgards the villain in all the other routes, but it isn't played as if it were one. There's no "Look at the horrible thing you've done!" or "Edelgard's empire crumbled and she was killed in a coup after TWSITD were defeated". or even a "Edelgard's lies get exposed' moment. She's just potrayed as the hero the entire time.

Also, Edelgard doesn't think Byleth is completely without emotion, she thinks byleth is DETATCHED. As in, not showing emotion often. She also agreess if Byleth says that Edelgard is also detached. That entire part of the conversation is brought on because Byleth says they are jealous. The entire thing of "Edelgard thinks Byleth has no emotions" is from a conversation in which Edelgard is GLAD that Byleth os showing emotion.

"I'll admit, I think of you as rather detached, so to hear that you have emotions such as jealousy is... something of a relief."

Also I forgot to ask...where is it STATED or SAID that Byleth WANTS to be a guiding hand for Fodlann? Like I'm not sure where that came from since it's not as if Byleth actively pursues a position of power, it's usually something they just sort of get given at the end of the other routes since Rhea either gives them said position, or is dead and Byleth ends up filling that role

Imma ask this: if being a mercenary was completely fine, if that had absolutely no negative impact whatsoever on Byleth... why didn't Sothis wake up earlier? Why did she only do so right before the lords - who give Byleth the chance to grow - meet with them? If they don't want to be a guiding hand in Fodlan, why don't they reject the leadership position given to them - especially on AM, when Rhea and/or Seteth could take over as archbishop?

It's because being a regular mercenary isn't good for them. It's because there's a consistent theme with Byleth that leadership as well as the Church are good things for their character, as well as for Fodlan - it's in the routes the Church is standing and Byleth earns a leadership position that Fodlan is at its most peaceful in the endings. It's not me being negative when it's this consistent within the game itself that being a leader and having a purpose beyond being a sword hand is what is best for Byleth.

To give the short answer to the "CF isn't a villain route" idea, here's this post I made detailing many of the ways CF is by far the most morally bankrupt route of the four of them, regardless of surface level framing. CF isn't a villain route in that "oh ho look at you, being evil!" It's the villain route because you are actively helping the villain get what she wants. You are the reason Fodlan falls into tyranny. It's your fault, as the player, that Fodlan is engulfed in war again when that isn't necessary in the other routes (where TWS are just taken care of with no need for a "long, arduous, bloody war"). It's because of you that the people of Fodlan must live under Edelgard's cruel leadership, being spied on by the secret police and having any rebellion they try to muster be put down in secret by Edelgard's evil butler.

You say CF isn't the villain route because Edelgard's villainous actions aren't addressed, but I'm sorry, I have to disagree with you with what qualifies as a villain route. You help plunge the continent into war by backing an imperialistic warmonger. You help spread outright lies about the Church. You keep up these lies even to your friends and let them believe the Church just nuked Arianrhod, without ever setting it straight with them. You work with a murder cult hellbent on killing as many people as they can. You comply with someone who is keeping an independent country (Brigid) under her thumb by keeping Petra as a hostage, which she herself refers to herself as on CF. You use Demonic Beasts as "war assets." You invade a neutral nation that's kept out of the war entirely. You help try to finish a genocide against the Nabateans - or, at best, work with someone who wants to finish it. You are the villain.

CF has you as the underdog despite it always being the one with the advantage in the beginning of the war phase because it is deliberately breaking from the worldbuilding of 3H, as said by the developers. Byleth is supposed to stand against Edelgard, not walk with her, hence the warping of the story when they do. It doesn't have to directly, explicitly say it's the villain route for it to be clear that you are not the good guy here.

Like, "you're portrayed about as much (if slightly less with the whole conquest thing) as much as a hero as the other routes-" no! Not slightly less! That is in large part what makes it villainous! You aren't fighting to defend yourself and to take down the one who plunged Fodlan into war - you are the conqueror! You are the one doing the plunging! For completely selfish gains, at that! There's no explicit "wow bitch you fucked up here" because the sign of you fucking up is the state your actions leave Fodlan in. It's Byleth losing the Crest Stone and going back to the beginning of their character arc. Edelgard, the villain, won - she got to have her happy ending on the graves of countless innocents lives she deemed less worthy than her ambitions, and it's all because of you. Edelgard getting exposed and her empire crumbling down is a good thing, which CF is not. You don't get to have Edelgard face the consequences of her actions like you do on the other routes where she dies, because she won. The bad guy won. You helped the bad guy win, so no, you aren't going to get the satisfaction of watching Edelgard fall - you play the other non-villain routes for that to happen. Why should there be? This is what you as the player wanted! You chose to side with Edelgard, even after being shown her involvement with nearly every bad thing that happens in WC, because you wanted her to win! You’ve reapt what you’ve sown!

And imma just ask... why is Edelgard relieved to hear Byleth has emotions such as jealousy? And why does she insist that Byleth is detached if you try to deny it? Why does Byleth have to directly tell Edelgard about them feeling emotions for her to know it - why doesn't she just know already? You never hear this sort of doubt come from Seteth, Claude, or Dimitri on SS, VW, and AM - hell, Claude will even outright say that Byleth has gotten far more expressive lately during tea time conversation! Why is Byleth detached in CF - why aren't they closer to the lord? Why is the lord doubting the connection between Byleth and others in their A support? Why is it only on CF that Byleth is ever called detached during post ts? Why is Byleth not showing emotion often? Enough to make Edelgard question whether they have emotions? 

It’s because Byleth is regressing on the progress they’ve made in being able to emote - they act in ways that are similar to how they act in the beginning of the game because CF is a negative influence on their character. Edelgard calling herself detached like Byleth is not a good thing - Edelgard’s detachment from other people is what lets her sacrifice innocent civilians for her goals. It’s what let’s her believe that her imperialistic dreams are worth the bloody path needed to make them come true. She is not connected to those around her, hence her being able to justify killing anyone to get what she wants, up to and including her Black Eagle classmates (Bernadetta on Gronder). Byleth being compared to someone like that is far from a positive thing, especially when all other routes have them have that connection with others and all other routes having a more positive, peaceful ending for Fodlan than CF. 

I will say though, it seems as though Byleth never seems to explicitly say that they want to be a guiding hand - that's a fuck up on my end and I apologize for that! But it's almost undeniable that that is the intended good path for them, versus CF where they don't have that happen. In the ending cutscenes of AM, SS, and VW, Byleth and the lord of that route (+ Rhea for SS) are bathed in the light (with Rhea being able to live on SS if she is close enough with Byleth), and Edelgard dies in the light. In CF, Byleth and the lord of the route are shrouded in darkness, with only the flames of destruction lighting them, and it's this setting that Rhea dies in. Edelgard can't survive in the light, and Rhea can't survive in the dark - and then the endings that correspond with these two scenarios match as well. The endings where Edelgard dies in the light and Byleth rises to become a guiding hand for Fodlan are the ones where peace is achieved, and the one where Rhea dies in the darkness (the one time Rhea always dies, unlike SS) is the one where Fodlan is fucked.

[kyubicled]

< [INDEX] >

"The War of Three Kings--known as the Dragon-Hunt to the North, Robert's Rebellion to the supporters of the Baratheon regime, or the War of the Usurper to Targaryen loyalists--was not directly instigated by a single occurrence or action. Rather, it was what many saw as an inevitable conclusion began at the Field of Thunder, where King Torrhen the Defiant and the legendary Spartan defeated Aegon, showing the whole of Westeros how even the might of the dragonlords were rendered meek by the otherworldly might of the Forward Unto Dawn. It was not apparent during those first years, when Aegon sat the Iron Throne. Indeed, though many had thought the sudden and crushing halt of the Dragon's advance would give rise to rebellion and sedition from his conquered territories of the Southern kingdoms, Aegon's reign on the Iron Throne was astoundingly peaceful. It is widely believed by scholars that it was indeed fear that kept the South in line, as many believed that disunity among the Andal kingdoms could very well render them vulnerable to invasion and subsequent conquest at the hands of the reinvigorated and undoubtedly mighty North. Rather than risk being made prey to the triumphant Direwolf, the lords of the South instead pledged their fealty to the wounded Dragon, though it's three heads had now only one still living. It is also likely inferred that Aegon himself was shielded by the presence of his new Northern queen, Wylanna Stark, the daughter of King Torrhen, whose hand sealed the Pact of Ice and Fire after Aegon's prior defeat. While their marriage proved to be fruitful, and even inferred to have eventually become a happy one, trouble would begin shortly after Aegon's death, the first in a long list of grievances between House Targaryen and House Stark.

While Aegon himself had decreed his son by Rhaenys, Aenys, would inherit the throne after him, there was considerable tension in the court over the matter, particularly due to the controversy caused by Aegon's issue. The Faith had viewed Aegon's marriage to his sister-wives as a blasphemy only begrudgingly tolerated due to the sheer might Aegon wielded, and therefore considered his issue by them, the future kings Aenys I and Maegor I, as less legitimate to the throne as Aegon's issue by Queen Wylanna; despite the fact she herself was detested by them due to her staunch faith in the Old Gods of the North, which she had passed on to her children. To further complicate things, her only son, Prince Jon, was seen as the ablest of all Aegon's heirs; although known to be stern and humorless, he was nevertheless seen as a balance between the genial but indecisive Aenys and the powerful but brutal Maegor. To the relief of the realm, Prince Jon himself held no public interest in pursuing the throne. He chose instead to support his half-brother's claim, publicly bending the knee and swearing fealty to Aenys in a display of great humility and subservience--a decision likely due in no small part due to the known friendship between them.

Unfortunately, Aenys, while gentle in rule and a patron of the arts, proved to be a less than able ruler, indecisive and hesitant for fear of offending. This left him incapable of stopping the enmity between Jon and Maegor, which only worsened over time. When the Faith Militant Uprising began, and Aenys suddenly died of cramps, Jon hastened to quell the dissent sown by the Faith Militant, leaving the capitol with a small host, but in his haste did not give pause to be appointed an office of regency over Aenys' heirs. This Maegor exploited when he unexpectedly returned from the Free Cities with an army of his own, quickly seizing control of King's Landing and declaring himself the rightful heir of Aegon, seizing the Iron Throne in direct opposition to the laws of succession, which stated that Aenys' son, Aegon, should inherit the throne. When Grand Maester Gawen protested this, Maegor beheaded him with the Valyrian sword Blackfyre, and held the royal family hostage. When Queen Wylenna refused to acknowledge Maegor as anything but a usurper, Maegor had Balerion the Black Dread bathe her in dragonflame, before swallowing her whole.

Outraged and mad with grief at the news of his mother's death, Prince Jon immediately declared for Aenys' son, Aegon, and called upon the lords of Westeros to war against Maegor's usurpation of the throne. His maternal uncle, King Rodrik Stark, immediately declared war against Maegor as well, vowing to not rest until House Stark's Valyrian sword, Ice, had run through Maegor's blackened heart, and his sister's death had been avenged. Thus began the Second War of Ice and Fire. When Maegor challenged any who opposed his rule to fight him, Jon immediately answered, challenging Maegor to a Trial of Seven, and was joined by Ser Damon Morrigen as well as five champions of the Faith to battle Maegor and six of his Kingsguard. In the ensuing melee, Jon and Maegor both immediately sought each other out, their long-standing enmity climaxing in a brutal, raging clash of blades between them. It was only when Blackfyre shattered Prince Jon's sword and clove him near in two that the White Dragon fell, but not before he dealt terrible wounds upon the Red Tyrant. Maegor alone survived the Trial, falling into a coma after the last blow was dealt, and woke only just in time to learn that, as it is said in the North, Winter was Coming.

King Rodrik raised an army of forty-thousand Northmen to march south of the Neck, and was joined by Prince Aegon with forces loyal to his cause. Maegor, meanwhile, mustered the royal army and marched north to meet him, each king intent on finishing his father's work of crushing the opposing side once and for all. The Dragon and the Wolf would run the rivers of the South red with the clash of their armies, and the years of fighting between them would be remembered as the Red Winter. While the Northmen had superior warriors, armaments, and tactics, and Aegon possessed the dragon Quicksilver, their supplies were stretched thin from the long march, and the Northerners did not have the vaunted might of the Spartan as they had when King Torrhen had led them, allegedly because the Spartan refused to stir from his timeless slumber for a war that was, ultimately, a squabble of houses fighting for the throne. Maegor's host, meanwhile, had greater numbers and a knowledge of the terrain, as well as supplies that could more readily be replenished from the surrounding countryside. While Rodrik and Aegon won many victories against Maegor's forces at first, their allied forces became weaker and weaker with each engagement, until Maegor ultimately defeated them at the Battle of Darry, where Quicksilver was slain with wildfire, killing Aegon with him. The Tyrant Dragon and the Wild Wolf met in personal combat as the battle raged around them, Rodrick wielding Ice and Maegor Blackfyre. Maegor, tormented by the wounds the late Jon had prior inflicted upon him, could not match the Stark King's ferocity, and would have perished there had his men not riddled Rodrick with crossbow bolts, killing the King in the North even as he held Ice aloft to deal the killing blow. With their sovereign dead, the Northmen retreated back to the North, utterly defeated.

Maegor, arrogant and bloodthirsty in his triumph, then declared he would finish his father's work and take the North, vowing to raze Winterfell to the ground and snuff out House Stark. And many believed he would, for his victory over the Starks had seemed so complete that his army could likely march unopposed at the very place his father had been defeated. But, much like his father, his arrogance would be his undoing. For in his pride and in his cruelty, and in his intent to see the North burn, and the Faith bent to it's knees, he awoke that sleeping giant that he had overlooked--that enigmatic warrior whom he believed would not oppose him. King Rodrik's young son, the newly crowned King Benjen, came in tears to the Forward Unto Dawn at the news of his father's death and their army's crushing defeat. The boy, no older than ten, pleaded that the Spartan rise to defend them, for all other hope had seemed to die in that dread hour. Many thought the boy king craven for doing so... until he reemerged with the Spartan and his companion, the Maiden of Light, at his side. The cries of a humbled and frightened child had triumphed where the pride and strength of a great warrior had failed, and the North rejoiced, their once-shattered morale rekindled by the return of their savior. Instead of rallying the remnants of the Stark forces under his banner, though, the Spartan insisted they be disbanded and sent home, solemnly stating he himself would suffice to end the tyranny of Maegor.

As Maegor marched northward, he and his army found Moat Cailin guarded by a lone warden--the Spartan himself, wielding the legendary Hammer of the Smith, and the fabled thunder weapon called 'Sniper Rifle'. Maegor, in hopes of restoring Balerion the Black Dread from his crippled state and into his former glory to face the Warrior Made Flesh, had allegedly used the blood of his own kin and the burnt body of Quicksilver in some dark sorcery. Regardless of the veracity of such reports, it was known that on that day, Maegor did indeed mount Balerion one more, the first time the great dragon had been ridden since it's defeat at the hands of the very enemy Maegor now intended to face.

But what followed was not the final triumph of the Tyrant King over the champion of the North. What followed was a duel immortalized in song, chronicle, and shows alike. Taking his thunder weapon in hand, he shot two deafening blows to the Black Dread's wings, forcing the monstrous beast to remain aground. Then, lifting his great war hammer, the Spartan did battle with the Black Dread, his weapon landing thunderous, crashing blows into the great dragon. Balerion's flames, black as night and hot enough to melt steel, failed to so much as singe the Spartan's legendary armor, his spear-like claws, sword-like fangs, and battering ram-esqe tail all too slow and lumbering to land a single blow against the Master Chief's otherworldly speed--Just as it had failed to do so to his great war machines so many year before. After felling many terrible strikes against the dreaded wyrm's body, the Immortal Last Hero landed one last, terrible blow into the drake's spine-crowned skull, felling the Black Dread one and for all. Maegor, still somehow whole, charged him in madness and fury, holding Blackfyre aloft--only to be casually hurdled through the air with a single fell blow from the Spartan's gauntleted fist, obliterating his skull in an instant. So ended the reign of Mageor the Cruel--or perchance, the Fool, as the Northmen still mockingly call him--a reign filled with blood, terror, and tyranny.

Following the death of Maegor, the Spartan made his way south, where he was justly received as a liberating hero by the whole of the realm for ending the terrible rule of the Tyrant Dragon. The smallfolk and the Faith rallied behind him and many shouted him to be named king. But in yet another astounding move, the Spartan and the Maiden of Light both instead helped to ensure that King Aenys' last living son, the future King Jaeherys I, was received his rightful place on the throne. They only remained long enough to help the young ruler secure peace for the whole of the realm, with the Luminous Lady leaving instructions of guidance for him to follow in his duties as king, before they both returned to the North, and back into their deathless sleep.

King Jaeherys was quick to restore relations with the Starks and the Faith, and would be remembered as perhaps the greatest ruler of the Targaryen dynasty, and together with King Brandon, helped to rebuild Westeros from the years of bloodshed of Maegor's reign, and bringing about a golden age of peace and prosperity for the whole continent. His own rule would be heavily influenced by the writings the Aglow lady left for him, helping to institute great reforms and innovations across the breadth of his domain."

--Maester Benjamyn, A History of House Stark and the Spartan, Volume II

[belit0]

Make sure he never comes back.

Rated: T

Pairings: I’m not spoiling that in this first edition, so if anyone is interested in more from this story, I’ll give that away ;)

I got inspired from a writting prompt, and this was born:

The Land of the Uchihas imposed itself disgustingly throughout the entire Fire Nation, dominating and conquering with force and terror. Small kingdoms and peoples who tried to rise up against their power were subdued, humiliated, stripped of everything they ever possessed. Those who accepted the inevitable with peace and without a fight, found a more relaxed destiny, without being treated like animals for the rest of their lives.

At the beginning of their reign, the Uchihas had been a stable clan, which showed no interest in expanding beyond the lands they owned. Owners of great luxury, they lived in harmony with their exuberant wealth. Reserved, secretive and stoic, no one knew that mysteries were unveiled within the great gates of their village. They did not admit foreigners or people from outside their clan, but neither did they attack anyone who dared to approach them. They were peaceful.

Everything had changed when another clan of the Fire country, the Senju, decided to dominate all the lands around them. Ruthlessly, they murdered all their opponents without a hitch until they encountered an imposing and unexpected enemy, the Uchihas. They would not allow their legacy to fall so easily into the cruel hands of those barbarians. These two groups shared more pain, agony and history than just the dispute over ground; they were related.

With passion and vigour, both families fought their way through a heated struggle that lasted three sunsets and four moon deaths. By the end of the war, the leader of the Uchiha, Indra, all powerful and praised by his followers, had fallen to the sword of his brother, Ashura, leader of the enemy clan. Before receiving reprisals from the surviving Uchihas, he himself fled, ordering a hasty retreat, rejoicing in the victory he was taking from the encounter. The death of his older brother, his only brother, meant nothing to him, and pleasure ran through his veins in the knowledge that he had fallen before the grace of his weapon.

However, Indra’s son, Uchiha Madara, heir to the leadership that his father’s death brought, had seen his progenitor’s death from the front line, and had been unable to act to save him. At only sixteen, the dark-haired teenager had been paralysed by the terror of the scene. His uncle, cold and disheartened, pierced his father with his sword, from his chest to the other end.

When the Senju retreated, panic crept into his system, and Madara ran to the dejected body of his only direct family. He knew he had a younger brother, but he never knew what had become of him. He had not had the pleasure of meeting him, but he had always fantasized about the situation. For some reason, the clan was forbidden to talk about it, and the information was not accessible. He withdrew the blade from the man’s chest, and tried to cover the bleeding wound. It was a clean, side-to-side incision. The amber liquid ran down the torso, soaking the hands of the young man, who was frantically trying to save his father from eternal darkness.

“Son, cease your action. My departure is inevitable.”

Squinting, Indra watched his eager offspring, who struggled to keep him alive. His time was not long, but he was proud to have instilled such passion in the child he had raised. If only he could have saved his other son…

“Father! Don’t abandon me! I beg you…”

“…Child, perpetuate your walk on the path of compassion…justice…evoke the love that I profess to you when the road becomes difficult…do not follow in the footsteps of Ashura…and find him…find your brother…Izuna…”

His last breath left his lungs, as his eyes closed for the last time.

“FATHER! NO!”

After Madara took power, darkness rained down on Uchiha’s land. No one understood what had changed inside the boy, who was once a sweet and gentle kid with the entire clan. Now, he showed himself to be an archaic person and refused to receive contact with anyone. He had inaugurated his first act as a leader by commanding a fierce invasion of the Senju Lands. Not only had they been victorious, but he had cut off Ashura’s head himself and impaled it on the doors of their village as a warning.

Whoever messed with Madara would meet the same fate.

For years, this leader’s empire just grew and grew. His tyranny soon flooded every corner of the nation, forcing, coercing and subduing anyone who crossed his path. The characteristic symbol of this bloodthirsty family, the malevolent red and white fan, spread out gloriously and infamously in the form of flags, plaguing every place where a town or village once resided.

At the age of 23, Madara was staying in the capital of his kingdom, coordinating from the comfort of the main palace the few remaining invasions to completely dominate the entire region. But his mind found little interest in conquest. In fact, establishing himself as the supreme king of the area had never mattered to him. Since his inevitable assumption of power, his only goal had fallen on his father’s last words.

‘Izuna…’ was the only word that resonated in the back of his mind. That name, that beautiful name, meant hope.

“Lord… Are you here with us?” One of his advisors brought him out of his absence, and forced him back into reality. He was meeting with the honorable members of his personal council. Also present was the captain of the military troops belonging to the capital, who directed orders to the barracks located throughout the country in the smaller Uchiha villages that had been founded after each conquest.

Madara observed other unknown faces, but he played down their importance. The last time he had been able to recognize all the members of his clan was when his father was still the leader. Walking the length of the long table where the meeting was taking place, all eyes were on him, waiting for an answer that he was unaware of. He had been fantasizing throughout the discussion. With his arms folded over his chest, one leg crossed over the other, his head held high in front of him, he responded monosyllabically, a sound that always saved him when he was caught off guard.

“Hm.” Nervous glances met each other over their teacups as the murmur echoed again from the meeting room. Easily, he was absent again in the freedom of his imagination, fascinated by the ease with which he could enter that world of fantasy. A world that usually belongs only to children. But his childhood had been corrupted by a lost brother… Izuna.

When the session was over, Madara was motionless in his seat. Imitating his action, the captain of the military forces, remained unmoving in his position, accustomed to that routine. Both waited for the room to empty before speaking.

"My lord, I am afraid to announce the lack of progress in the mission you have given me. My fittest men and I have ridden without ceasing for weeks and…”

“Are you telling me there’s no sign of him?”

“My lord… my convictions… I dare to declare that your brother must have died by now…”

He could not finish speaking, for from where Madara sat, a knife flew without warning, and was mercilessly thrust into the man’s eye. He was an expert in cutting weapons, and never missed a chance to practice on live targets. No one could talk about his brother in that way. Ever since he became a leader, Izuna’s quest was an ever-present mission. The entire Fire Nation had been scoured, searched for in every corner by that young Uchiha that no one knew about and had never been seen.

But Madara was no fool. He knew what his clan thought. He knew that they thought him insane for searching so hard for a person who resembled a ghost. The resources devoted to tracking down his brother were incalculable, to the extent that the Uchiha were at a financial low, never before reached by his predecessors, thanks to him.

He could hear the servants rumouring about how he had lost his mind. He could hear his men doubting his ability to carry them through. His family, the legacy his father had given him at the cost of his blood, was now beginning to turn its back on him. All they wanted was the total conquest of the region. To receive the unpleasant title of supreme leader. None of that mattered in his life, for what he wanted most was to regain what he had never been able to have.

Despite the differences he had with the people he was leading, as he no longer considered it right to call them relatives, he was aware that he needed his position as a ruler to get the help of the clan, and thus find the whereabouts of Izuna. His brother’s story was still a mystery. No one knew what had become of him after his birth, no one had seen him, no one could describe his appearance. A needle in a haystack. And although in the back of his mind the word ‘dead’ flickered with dazzling lights, he refused to pay attention to it. He would spend his whole life searching for him if necessary.

—————————————-

Facing a new dawn, Madara’s horse rode bravely before his commands, guiding the military formation that followed behind him. The Uchiha travelled at great speed from the capital to one of the newly opened villages, located almost on the border of the land of fire and wind. Carrying swords, bows and arrows, shields with the clan’s emblem, they hurried through the rising heat, wearing gleaming black armor. They covered the entire torso, shoulders, and the front and back of the legs. Combat sandals, suitable for the need for skill, could be seen on the warriors’ feet.

The leader of the troop, distinguishing himself from the others, wore a long black cape attached to the shoulders of his armor, identifying him as the head of the squadron. After coldly annihilating the former commander in the meeting room, Madara had decided to personally take charge of the military section. His long dark hair cascaded down his back, dancing uncontrollably in the face of the horse’s revolutions and the wind. The urgent hurry was due to the announcement of a runway that had arrived in the capital that morning, carried by a messenger hawk. The leader of the location to which they were travelling, reported having found conclusive information about the famous “Izuna” and demanded the immediate presence of Madara to verify the veracity of the facts.

When they woke him up and he personally read the message that the pale and breathless maid had brought him, his heart beat as fast as when he saw his father die in front of his eyes. Putting together a team and having them travel that distance from one moment to the next was risky and extremely rushed, but the expectation consumed him and the urge to find out what that clue was was too much to hope for.

When he was forced to rest because the night was falling on them, anger took hold of him in such a pure way that he had to get away from the whole group so as not to kill them on the forest floor. He made up his personal sleeping space at a great distance from his men, knowing that it was unlikely that he would encounter any thieves or outsiders in the area as it was under his power. He stripped off his armor and did not even bother to set up a proper shelter for the early morning hours. Wearing the black clothes, he always wore under his war protection, he placed the shield of his torso on the grass and laid his head on it, using it as a pillow.

He relaxed by looking at the green leaves on the trees, feeling the breeze playing with his loose hair. Before he knew it, he was fantasizing. He thought of arriving in that village and meeting a young Uchiha, his brother. His only remaining relative, who would accompany him for the rest of his life. He would not have to be alone anymore. Eventually, amidst emotions, happiness and dreams, darkness lulled him to the land of rest, and he managed to sleep.

But he had made a mistake in thinking that he was alone.

———————————–

When he woke up, he felt happily renewed, ready to reach that blissful place and discover that mystery. But unfortunately, he was not in the forest. The sounds of nature did not reach his ears, the morning breeze did not blow on his senses. Something was wrong. Reluctantly, he wanted to open his eyes, only to realize that, even if he tried, the world was still dark around him.

He did not allow despair to grow inside him, years of war, fighting and training had shaped him into a warrior fit to face any scenario. He tried to move his hands, to bring them to his face to confirm that his eyesight was covered by something, but discovered that he was chained. Handcuffs were tight and constricting, hugging his wrists. He tested the range of motion, and noticed that he could move his arms at least a little forward. He was not totally restricted.

He lifted one leg, confirming the theory that he also had shackles on his ankles. Again, a small range of motion was granted to him. He was sitting against a cold, solid wall with all his limbs tied off and deprived of his sight.

He could only hear, smell at the very least. The rage of being held against his will one step away from finding information about the man he had sought for so many years consumed him in an inexplicable way, but he could not afford to act recklessly and ruin his chances of escape because of his impulses.

He waited, waited and waited, still in the cold, secret place, unanswered and boiling inside. He had no idea how much time had passed, what time of day it was, what had become of his troop. The unknowns overwhelmed his head when a sound took him out of his anxiety. Without conveying any emotion to the outside world and determined to be indecipherable to his captors, he heard footsteps coming down a long staircase. Then the person walked down what he thought was a corridor, until it got closer and closer to him. The footsteps stopped, and the rumble of a heavy titanium door being opened was heard throughout the room where he was being held.

“I apologize, my King, for the lack of decorum on the occasion… unbecoming of our usual action. But… before one such as you, Lord Uchiha, we cannot take risks, I hope you understand.”

A female voice spoke from somewhere in the room. He could tell that the woman was standing in front of him by the direction of the sound, and from the information provided, she was some kind of thief; probably, a group of them. He would remain silent, and would not offer compromising information to his enemy. Not because he cared about his clan, but because of the custom of wartime. Once again, he felt like a teenager, where he was targeted because he was the leader’s son. Today, however, he was the leader.

“Did the cat eat your tongue, My Lord?”

Internally he found it amusing to think that this should be taken as an insult. The woman he was dealing with seemed to have no desire to mistreat or torture.

“…Man of few words… Blessed. The payment for your ransom should be coming any minute, Lord Uchiha. You will be free then.”

With that said, the woman’s footsteps were heard again, moving away from him calmly. The door resounded thunderously after a few seconds, and as it closed, the footsteps continued down the corridor that he sensed following. The footsteps disappeared behind the many steps a moment later.

Abduction for profit’ had been delayed by something as banal as materials. He felt insulted, anger threatened to show itself, to glow through his strength and to tear off the chains that kept him confined to that place. But that, he had to admit, as incredibly tempting as it was, was also incredibly stupid. When the Uchiha paid the ransom, he would be released peacefully and could finish the journey to the village quietly, assuming that the group holding him was large enough to rule over that area.

He.Just.Had.To.Wait.

And so, it was. He ate the ration of food that was given to him some time later, and felt the hours go by inside him, until eventually sleep overcame him. He was startled when he was awakened by a slight kick in his calf. His body was asleep and cramped, thanks to the lack of movement due to the restriction of the chains. He needed to move, his energy and his mood were deep within him.

Reluctantly, he came back to life when he heard the voice of the same woman speaking to him again. Without warning, he felt a delicate touch over his eyes, and the blindfold that deprived him of his sight was removed. By reflection, he held his eyelids tight to the sudden invasion of light. It was not very strong, for the room where he was imprisoned was dreary and poorly lit, but after being in the darkness for an indefinite time, even the smallest illumination felt enormous.

When he managed to focus his eyes again, he could appreciate the woman in front of him. She was short, with long, long pink hair, reaching down to her lower back. Emerald eyes looked at him intently, and a purple jewel in the shape of a rhombus adorned her forehead. A long black cape with strange red details covered her body, but it opened at the front of her figure to reveal the tight black shirt and dark trousers she wore underneath. The sleeves were so long that Madara could not see her hands, which made him uneasy as he could not see if she was carrying weapons.

“…O my King… My Lord… I have news…”

Slowly, the pink-haired woman moved one of her arms. Alerted, the Uchiha looked intently at her hand, anticipating an attack or an assassination attempt. To his surprise, when the sleek limb was revealed under the long sleeve of her cloak, the only thing that appeared was an envelope. Specifically, marked with the symbol of the Uchiha clan.

Confused and amazed, Madara held the object in the hand where the woman had placed it, as he could not deliberately move them. It was a letter, and it was open.

“I suppose it is a pity for you… My Lord… but we, on the other hand, are wonderfully rich.”

On the paper, it read as follows:

“To whomever this statute has the pleasure of addressing

We cannot ignore the assistance given by you in the removal of Lord Madara

As a token of our gratitude, we sent twice the amount you requested, in exchange for one last favor

Please

Make sure he never comes back to us.

                                                                       -The Honorable Uchiha Council”

The words his eyes saw broke the last barrier of self-control he had left, and he couldn’t help but explode at that very moment. His family had taken the opportunity of his abduction to get rid of him. They were using this group of thugs to see that his presence was eradicated. It was an insult to his father, to him. To his brother.

The chains on his wrists came off the wall when, with a battle cry, the Uchiha used all his strength to free himself. Finally, being able to move his arms, he allowed his anger and contained ferocity to run through his veins, without any restrictions. Outside of himself, he lunged at the woman in front of him, and straddling her, he placed his hands around her neck. The force he exerted was too much, and the pink-haired woman soon began to lose the color in her skin and the air in her airways.

“I JUST WANT MY BROTHER!”

[theusurpersdog]

An Avenging Dragon

A Storm of Swords is the second big push Daenerys gets on her path to becoming a much darker person; at the end of A Game of Thrones she is hatching dragons, but her plot pauses substantially in A Clash of Kings. While she is in a higher position, travelling through the Red Waste and staying in Qarth doesn’t give her an opportunity to actually lead her people that much; she still leads them in more subtle and understated ways, but A Storm of Swords puts her back in a position to take military action. Back in the Lhazareen village, Daenerys did not have the stomach to be the conqueror she tried to be, and in this book we see how she’s grown and changed since hatching her dragons.

Bred For War

The first two books establish a very strong symbolic connection between Daenerys and her dragons, and hint at an actual physical link between them, but A Storm of Swords is the first book to really expand on the concept.

Throughout the book, there is countless examples of Daenerys’ mood actively translating to her dragons. They are particularly in touch with Daenerys’ passionate emotions; whenever Daenerys get angry with someone, her dragons also stir:

Her dragons sensed her fury. Viserion roared, and smoke rose grey from his snout. Drogon beat the air with black wings, and Rhaegal twisted his head back and belched flame

Dany felt hot tears on her cheeks. Drogon screamed, lashing his tail back and forth.

And when Daenerys is having sex with Irri, her dragons seem to experience it with her:

Still, the relief she wanted seemed to recede before her, until her dragons stirred, and one screamed out across the cabin

She screamed then. Or perhaps that was Drogon.

Daenerys and her dragons have become so interchangeable that she herself can’t tell one from the other.

This very tangible connection she has with them works on two different levels; it highlights that Dany’s dragons want what she wants, and also works to strengthen the symbolic connection she shares with them. By making this emotional connection explicit, GRRM strengthens the parallels between Daenerys and her dragons that are meant to be subtext. As the dragons begin to really grow, they develop personalities and traits that reflect on Daenerys:

At first Groleo had wanted the dragons caged and Dany had consented to put his fears at ease, but their misery was so palpable, that she soon changed her mind and insisted they be freed.

He was always hungry, her Drogon.

Daenerys’ dragons hate being held back in any way; they aren’t happy until they can soar over the ocean, free to hunt and fly wherever they want. This doesn’t fully pay off until Daenerys chains them at the start of A Dance with Dragons, but GRRM is seeding that being chained is something that both the dragons and Daenerys will hate.

It also feeds into the larger narrative point that Daenerys herself is a dragon. She herself starts to realize this as time passes, and she grows more and more comfortable equating herself to one. Back in A Game of Thrones, she called herself “the blood of the dragon”, and when she compared herself to a dragon, it was often in symbolic terms, in a removed sort of way. She still does that in A Storm of Swords, but she is also much more direct in her language when she says she is a dragon:

“I have a dragon’s temper, that’s all. You must not let it frighten you.”

The anger was fierce and hot inside her when she gave the command; it made her feel like an avenging dragon

She had not meant to be so sharp with Ser Jorah, but his endless suspicion had finally woken her dragon.

“YOU ARE THE DRAGON’S NOW!”

And not only is she comfortable directly stating she is a dragon, she uses it to excuse her behavior; especially in the context of Jorah “waking her dragon”. Not that it is at all wrong for Daenerys to lash out at Jorah, considering his abhorrent behavior toward her; but that particular phrase is something Daenerys is familiar with because Viserys used it as both a threat and a justification. It’s a way for Daenerys to excuse her outbursts as a right she has as a Targaryen; dragons can do whatever they want, and can’t be held accountable for the things they do.

Looking beyond the connection Daenerys has to her own dragons, the history of House Targaryen is starting to become ominously present within her chapters. I’ll get into Old Valyria and Aegon’s Conquest more below, but this particular line about the Targaryen’s dragons is very interesting:

“the dragons the Seven Kingdoms knew best were those of House Targaryen. They were bred for war, and in war they died. It is no easy thing to slay a dragon, but it can be done.”

Daario is introduced in this book, and with him the idea of Daenerys having to choose between peace or war, so this quote seems particularly damning for the choices she will make.

As Daenerys’ connection to her House grows, the parallels she shares with her brother Rhaegar also start to become apparent. Jorah always said that Rhaegar was the last dragon, before he saw Daenerys step out of Drogo’s Pyre, and as the books go on it’s made clear that the title of “the last dragon” is really hers. She is fascinated by her brother, and even dreams of herself standing in his shoes:

That night she dreamt that she was Rhaegar, riding to the Trident. But she was mounted on a dragon, not a horse. When she saw the Usurper’s rebel host across the river they were armored all in ice, but she bathed them in dragonfire and they melted away like dew and turned the Trident into a torrent.

And when she is trying to work up her courage to turn Drogon and the Unsullied against the Great Masters, she thinks to herself “It is time to cross the Trident”. Unlike Viserys, who Daenerys had to live under and experience his cruelty, Rhaegar is just a story to her; someone who can be as brave and heroic, as Romantic and honorable, as inspiring as she needs him to be.

In many ways, Rhaegar represents all the same things to Daenerys that Westeros does. Just as she cannot acknowledge the possibility of fault in Westeros (“She tried to imagine what it would feel like, when she first caught sight of the land she was born to rule. It will be as fair a shore as I have ever seen, I know it. How could it be otherwise?”), Daenerys also sees Rhaegar as flawless; instead of placing blame on him for running away from Elia Martell and his children, she asks Ser Barristan just how awful Elia was to make him abandon her. Part of why she feels so uncomfortable buying the Unsullied to fight for her as slaves, is because Rhaegar’s men followed him out of love and loyalty, which leads to Jorah Mormont’s famous line:

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

“My queen,” the big man said slowly, “all you say is true. But Rhaegar lost on the Trident. He lost the battle, he lost the war, he lost the kingdom, and he lost his life. His blood swirled downriver with the rubies from his breastplate, and Robert the Usurper rode over his corpse to steal the Iron Throne. Rhaegar fought valiantly, Rhaegar fought nobly, Rhaegar fought honorably. And Rhaegar died.”

I find this argument between Jorah and Daenerys so important because we’re definitely not supposed to agree with Jorah. The idea that Rhaegar’s honor got him killed flies in the face of why he had to fight at the Trident to begin with; that he had run off from his wife with a young girl, and refused to stand against his father’s tyranny. Yet it also highlights Daenerys’ continued lack of understanding of what Robert’s Rebellion or Westeros really is; Daenerys specifically asks Jorah what Rhaegar said when he knighted men, the implication being that the men Rhaegar chose to knight were honorable and good. But we know that the greatest tragedy that befell Dany’s family during Robert’s Rebellion, the rape and murder of Elia Martell and her children, was carried out by Ser Gregor Clegane, who was knighted by none other than Prince Rhaegar Targaryen.

Knowing Daenerys shares such a strong connection to her brother, it makes the details we know of Rhaegar’s personality very interesting:

“Perhaps so, Your Grace.” Whitebeard paused a moment. “But I am not certain it was in Rhaegar to be happy.”

“You make him sound so sour,” Dany protested.

“Not sour, no, but. . . there was a melancholy to Prince Rhaegar, a sense. . .” The old man hesitated again.

“Say it,” she urged. “A sense. . . ?”

“. . . of doom. He was born in grief, my queen, and that shadow hung over him all his days.”

Melancholic is a very apt way to describe Daenerys in A Storm of Swords. Whether it be fear of betrayal, a profound sense of loneliness, the trauma of her past, or any other number of worries, Daenerys is incredibly sad throughout her chapters. She often finds herself crying, set off by small things, and she doesn’t even understand what drove her to tears. Similar to Rhaegar, I’m not certain Daenerys has it in her to be happy. The struggle between Dany who wants to live in a house with a red door, and Daenerys Targaryen who wants to be a Queen and Conqueror, is such a huge part of her story and in A Storm of Swords and A Dance with Dragons, is expressed through Daenerys having to choose peace or war. As we saw in A Game of Thrones and A Clash of Kings, choosing peace wasn’t enough for her; she could not let herself live as a khaleesi, or return and rule Vaes Tolorro. But when she chooses war, she isn’t particularly satisfied with that either:

Up here in her garden Dany sometimes felt like a god, living atop the highest mountain in the world.

Do all gods feel so lonely? Some must, surely.

The red priests believed in two gods, she had heard, but two who were eternally at war. Dany liked that even less. She would not want to be eternally at war.

The way Barristan Selmy describes Rhaegar as being shadowed by grief his entire life is also very true of Daenerys, and reminiscent of the Undying Ones calling her daughter of death. Her mother died giving birth to her, she was named “Stormborn” because her father’s fleet was crushed on the night of her birth, and her entire arc is shrouded in death; whether that be Viserys, Rhaego, or Drogo. And as Barristan says of Rhaegar, what I’ve been trying to outline in these metas is just how much a sense of doom follows Daenerys Targaryen.

Bricks & Blood

Daenerys’ complex relationship to slavery is driven to the forefront of her story when she arrives in Slaver’s Bay. While it has always been present in her story, from her first chapter when she was sold to Khal Drogo, it isn’t really the focus until she goes to Astapor to buy the Unsullied. It’s such an interesting part of her story, because it highlights both the best and worst of her personality; it gives her a chance to chase the ideal of being the Breaker of Chains, but also really shines a light on how little she understands what she’s doing, and how little patience she has to actually be a savior.

There is a lot of focus placed on the middle and end of Daenerys’ arc in A Storm of Swords, but it’s important to consider how she began her journey to Slaver’s Bay: to buy a slave army. Trying to argue the exact moment Daenerys decided to burn Kraznys and free the Unsullied is pointless, because GRRM writes her as intentionally vague in Astapor to keep the element of surprise, but it’s inarguable that she arrives there with the intent to buy the Unsullied:

“If Magister Illyrio would deny you, he is only Xaro Xhoan Daxos with four chins. And if he is sincere in his devotion to your cause, he will not begrudge you three shiploads of trade goods. What better use for his tiger skins than to buy you the beginnings of an army?

That’s true. Dany felt a rising excitement.

. . .

“Yes,” she decided. “I’ll do it!” Dany threw back the coverlets and hopped from the bunk. “I’ll see the captain at once, command him to set course for Astapor.”

And once she’s in Astapor, Daenerys is clearly torn on what decision to make. Barristan and Jorah act as the angel and devil on her shoulder, and through her debate with them we can see how and why Daenerys makes her choices. When she is faced with Barristan’s steadfast refusal of the Unsullied as a potential army, we get to see Daenerys arguing for the buying of slaves, and I find her justifications quite interesting:

“There are sellswords in Pentos and Myr and Tyrosh you can hire. A man who kills for coin has no honor, but at least they are no slaves. Find your army there, I beg you.”

“My brother visited Pentos, Myr, Braavos, near all the Free Cities. The magisters and archons fed him wine and promises, but his soul was starved to death. A man cannot sup from the beggar’s bowl all his life and stay a man. I had my taste in Qarth, that was enough. I will not come to Pentos bowl in hand.”

For Daenerys, it doesn’t matter how wrong slavery is or how negatively it will be received in Westeros, because it cannot be worse than having to beg. In her mind, she believes that having to beg the rich men of the Free Cities to help him caused Viserys to become the cruel monster he was, and Daenerys thinks that the same could happen to her; which implies that Daenerys sees Viserys’ reaction as either valid or inevitable – either way, it’s troubling.

What’s also troubling is how Daenerys uses her past to justify her present actions:

“Better to come a beggar than a slaver,” Arstan said.

“There speaks one who has been neither.” Dany’s nostrils flared. “Do you know what it is like to be sold, squire? I do. My brother sold me to Khal Drogo for the promise of a golden crown. Well, Drogo crowned him in gold, though not as he had wished, and I. . . my sun-and-stars made a queen of me, but if he had been a different man, it might have been much otherwise. Do you think I have forgotten how it felt to be afraid?”

The concept of slavery does not bother Daenerys, the brutality does. I briefly mentioned when I wrote about her A Clash of Kings chapters that Daenerys doesn’t think twice about Xaro’s slaves, which seems to be at odds with her actions in Slaver’s Bay; but I think this is because Daenerys isn’t really opposed to owning people, as long as they are treated well. She can buy a slave army, because she would treat them well, so it wouldn’t be wrong. But once she arrives in Astapor, and has to see the way the men are treated, she can’t lie to herself about her actions anymore. But, just as she did in the Lhazareen village, Daenerys tries to overcome horrific violence to continue in her actions:

She was feeling faint. The heat, she tried to tell herself.

She can’t bring herself to ignore the suffering of the Unsullied, though, as her fight with Jorah shows:

“How many men do they have for sale?”

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

“If you were my true knight, you would never have brought me to this vile sty.”

But it is dark below, in the streets and plazas and fighting pits. And it is darkest of all in the barracks, where some little boy is feeding scraps to the puppy they gave him when they took away his manhood.

“The blood of my enemies I will shed gladly. The blood of innocents is another matter. Eight thousand Unsullied they would offer me. Eight thousand dead babes. Eight thousand strangled dogs.”

Seeing the dehumanization of the Unsullied makes Daenerys feel physically sick. Being exposed to that extreme level of cruelty stirs something in Daenerys; she has high ideals of what a King or Queen is for, and seeing so many abused people makes her want to stand up and fight for them. I’ll get into Daenerys’ version of justice more later, but I think it’s very important to understand how she sees herself. Freeing the Unsullied is in no way altruistic – it allows her to get everything she wants and lose nothing – but Daenerys doesn’t do it for entirely selfish reasons. This is how the scene is described:

She raised the harpy’s fingers in the air. . . and then she flung the scourge aside. “Freedom!” she sang out. “Dracarys! Dracarys!”

She believes she’s setting the Unsullied free, she’s singing out the words: Freedom!

But that’s not entirely true. Before she sets the Plaza ablaze, Daenerys specifically asks Kraznys about it:

“The Good Master has said that these eunuchs cannot be tempted with coin or flesh,” Dany told the girl, “but if some enemy of mine should offer them freedom for betraying me. . .”

“They would kill him out of hand and bring her his head, tell her that,” the slaver answered. “Other slaves may steal and hoard up silver in hopes of buying freedom, but an Unsullied would not take it if the little mare offered it as a gift. They have no life outside their duty. They are soldiers, and that is all.”

“It is soldiers I need,” Dany admitted.

Daenerys is being told in no uncertain terms that the Unsullied are trained not to understand the concept of freedom. And, by her own actions, we can see that she believed Kraznys:

She stood in her stirrups and raised the harpy’s fingers above her head for all the Unsullied to see. “IT IS DONE!” she cried at the top of her lungs. “YOU ARE MINE!” She gave the mare her heels and galloped along the first rank, holding the fingers high. “YOU ARE THE DRAGON’S NOW! YOU’RE BOUGHT AND PAID FOR! IT IS DONE! IT IS DONE!”

Daenerys makes sure the Unsullied know that she is their Master now, screaming it as loud as she can and waving the Harpy high above her for them to see, before giving the command for them to sack Astapor. Not until after they obey, does she drop the scourge. Again, Daenerys loves the idea of liberating people and she loves a version of freedom, but she doesn’t fully understand what slavery is.

A part of her is uncomfortable with her actions, though, and that comes through the most in her interaction with her handmaiden Irri. When she was khaleesi to Khal Drogo, Daenerys’ two handmaidens were her slaves, and even though she set them free at the end of A Game of Thrones, Irri doesn’t fully understand what that means:

Dany stepped away from her. “No. Irri, you do not need to do that. What happened that night, when you woke . . . you’re no bed slave, I freed you, remember? You . . .”

“I am handmaid to the Mother of Dragons,” the girl said. “It is great honor to please my khaleesi.”

When Daenerys hears this, it does not please her:

"I don't want that," she insisted. "I don't."

On some level, Daenerys understands that having sex with Irri is exploitative and wrong:

For a moment Dany was tempted, but it was Drogo she wanted, or perhaps Daario. Not Irri. The maid was sweet and skillful, but all her kisses tasted of duty.

But we’ll see in A Dance with Dragons that Daenerys continues to have sex with Irri.

I want to pause for a moment and explain why I say that Irri and the Unsullied don’t understand what their new found freedom means. I am not trying to infantilize them or remove their agency. But years and years of dehumanization and abuse have tried to take their agency from them; the Unsullied are violated, tortured, drugged, and emotionally and psychologically manipulated from the time they are little boys, all with the goal of stripping them of the very concept of self. That level of emotional damage can’t be solved by simply setting them free, especially when they’re given the option to live in their old patterns. While we don’t have details about Irri’s upbringing, we know that she was a slave Viserys was able to buy specifically to serve Daenerys, and spent a year or more of her life as Dany’s slave. So, on top of the trauma inflicted on Irri and the Unsullied through years of being told their lives were not their own, there is the added layer of them actually being Daenerys’ property at a point in their lives. It is one thing to be treated as property your whole life, and then someone comes along and tells you that you’re now free; it is quite another for someone who also treated you like property to then give you your freedom. Daenerys is, even if unintentionally, taking advantage of the slaves she freed.

This complicated relationship to slavery also gives Daenerys yet another connection to her Targaryen - and Valyrian - heritage. When she arrives in Astapor, she remembers how the Valyrians destroyed the empire of Old Ghis:

Old Ghis had fallen five thousand years ago, if she remembered true; its legions shattered by the might of young Valyria, its brick walls pulled down, its streets and buildings turned to ash and cinder by dragonflame, its very fields sown with salt, sulfur, and skulls.

Lore from The World of Ice and Fire expands on this, clarifying that the “Freehold” of Valyria learned slavery from the conquered cities of Old Ghis, and their first slaves were the Ghiscari they had taken prisoner. Similar to her ancestors, Daenerys quickly starts to profit off of selling slaves:

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

"In Astapor the city took a tenth part of the price, each time a slave changed hands," Missandei told her.

"We'll do the same," Dany decided. Wars were won with gold as much as swords. "A tenth part. In gold or silver coin, or ivory. Meereen has no need of saffron, cloves, or zorse hides."

Daenerys is careful to put boundaries around men selling themselves into slavery, trying to avoid people being forced back into the slave trade, but she is equally quick to make a profit off of the trade. Now that Daenerys is directly benefiting from the selling of slaves, she has less of a reason to discourage it. It’s also unsettling how she hears of how Astapor ruled, the city responsible for the atrocities of the Plaza of Punishment, and decides we’ll do the same. Like her ancestors, Daenerys is starting to fall into the patterns of Ghis and their slave trade. She is still far from being the same as the men she hates, but she is profiting off the buying and selling of human beings, which is morally bankrupt. She could have allowed the men to sell themselves back into slavery without taking ten percent, but instead she chose to follow the example set by Astapor.

Valyria and the cities of Slaver’s Bay are extremely intertwined, and Daenerys deciding to adopt Astapor’s slave tax is just one in a long list of similarities. Before Old Ghis was conquered by the Freehold of Valyria, they were in the slave trade but had an elite source of free fighting men; then Valyria salted the very ground Ghis was built upon, and adopted their people as slaves to send into the volcanic mines, where so many slaves died it would “defy comprehension”; after Valyria drowned in the Fourteen Flames, the cities of Old Ghis were reborn as Slaver’s Bay, now with no willing men to fight for them, and thus created the Unsullied. The two empires feed off each other in a twisted cycle of human suffering (one could almost say Valyria helped create a wheel?) where one is never better than the other, and only grow more similar. By the time Daenerys comes to Astapor, the Ghiscari don’t even have their language anymore and instead speak Valyrian.

The old rhyme Barristan Selmy tells Daenerys really highlights how similar the two empires became:

"Bricks and blood built Astapor," Whitebeard murmured at her side, "and bricks and blood her people."

"What is that?" Dany asked him, curious.

"An old rhyme a maester taught me, when I was a boy. I never knew how true it was. The bricks of Astapor are red with the blood of the slaves who make them."

The meaning of the rhyme is not hard to see; the slaves are the ones who built Astapor brick by brick, the very stones stained in their blood.

Knowing why Valyria took slaves – so they could work the fire mines – it is incredibly easy to make this rhyme about the Freehold:

Fire & Blood built Valyria, and fire and blood her people.

While Daenerys is far removed from the atrocities of both the Valyrians and the Ghiscari, she fails to understand how her own people helped to create the environment in which Slaver’s Bay could exist. In her mind, the six battles Valyria fought with Old Ghis is a legend of her people’s greatness, and that Valyria was somehow better than the people it conquered. One could almost argue the opposite was true, though, since they took the Ghiscari and sent them to work slave mines inside literal active volcanoes. Daenerys doesn’t know the history of her people, of her house (who brought their slaves with them to Dragonstone), so when she conquers cities in the name of House Targaryen, as the blood of Old Valyria, she doesn’t understand what she’s saying. But she is actively benefiting from an empire that served to make Essos an even worse place than they found it.

I Am Only A Young Girl, And Do Not Know the Ways of War

A Clash of Kings gave Daenerys a taste of what being a Queen was going to be, but A Storm of Swords throws her into it. Between the moments that Daenerys loves, such as setting the Plaza of Punishment afire or being named Mhysa, she has to deal with the actual day to day of leading a people. We get to see her in political situations, making diplomatic negotiations, and making policy for her people. This is the book that gives us the first real taste of what Daenerys could or would be like as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. And I think we start to see why Daenerys shouldn’t be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. She loves the feeling of being a leader to her people, but the actual role she has to play as Queen is so incredibly boring to her.

After conquering Astapor, Daenerys is faced with the question of how to take Yunkai. She doesn’t want to abandon all the slaves in the city, but she also does not want to risk the lives of her men and she knows they don’t have the supplies to last a siege. Smartly, Daenerys decides to meet with the commanders of the sellsword companies and also envoys from Yunkai; but her behavior during her meeting does more harm than good:

“I say, you are mad.”

“Am I?” Dany shrugged, and said, “Dracarys.”

The dragons answered. Rhaegal hissed and smoked, Viserion snapped, and Drogon spat swirling red-black flame. It touched the drape of Grazdan’s tokar, and the silk caught in half a heartbeat. Golden marks spilled across the carpets as the envoy stumbled over the chest, shouting curses and beating at his arm until Whitebeard flung a flagon of water over him to douse the flames. “You swore I should have safe conduct!” the Yunkish envoy wailed.

“Do all the Yunkai’i whine so over a singed tokar?”

We learn in A Dance with Dragons that this is used against her quite often, and not entirely unfairly. She swore the men would have safe conduct, and then turned her dragons against them. No real damage was done, but it leaves a lasting impression on the men who were there. And Daenerys has no real reason to threaten him in that manner; her dragons are too small to threaten the safety of a city, and she is trying to propose a nonviolent conquering of the city. She does it because her temper is raised, and Grazdan said she was mad. I don’t think it’s bad that Daenerys has such a heavy disdain for the men of Slaver’s Bay, considering how they treat her and even more so how they treat their slaves, but she tries to have it both ways; offering to meet with them and give them safe passage, and also insulting and attacking them. She tries to be the kind of Queen who can meet with her enemies, but she can never follow through.

When she arrives outside the gates of Meereen, Daenerys is given another opportunity to try her hand at politics, and this is her in her element. The champion that Meereen sends is Oznak zo Pahl, a highborn pit fighter, and Daenerys has to carefully decide who she is willing to send to face him; Greyworm, Jorah, and Daario are all eager to prove their bravery and impress her, but Daenerys knows none of them are the right choice:

“Strong Belwas was a slave, here in the fighting pits. If this highborn Oznak should fall to such the Great Masters will be shamed, while if he wins . . . well, it is a poor victory for one so noble, one that Meereen can take no pride in.” And unlike Ser Jorah, Daario, Brown Ben, and her three bloodriders, the eunuch did not lead troops, plan battles, or give her counsel. He does nothing but eat and boast and bellow at Arstan. Belwas was the man she could most easily spare. And it was time she learned what sort of protector Magister Illyrio had sent her.

Where the peace of politics does not sit right with her, Daenerys is incredibly smart and intuitive when it comes to war and conquest. Her choosing Strong Belwas as her champion was a well-made decision and the best she could have made. But it also highlights something about Daenerys personality, which being Queen exacerbates; there is almost a thoughtlessness to how Daenerys sends Belwas out to die for her. Daenerys has an incredible amount of loyalty to those who follow her, especially after they proclaim her Mhysa, but she also has less concern for people when they are not loyal to her. There is a thread that connects all the people Daenerys loves the most, from the people who follow her, to Ser Jorah, to Daario; they live for her. She is capable and often loves and shows sympathy for people who aren’t centered around her, but Daenerys is attached to the idea of being a savior. Daenerys invests in people when they invest in her. That in and of itself is not a bad thing; but she invests so much in certain people that she seems to almost forget the lives of others.

That becomes incredibly destructive when she becomes Queen of Meereen, because it’s symptomatic of how self-centric her worldview is, but the full weight of that isn’t explored until A Dance with Dragons. There is small hints of how Daenerys can treat people sometimes, though, such as this:

Irri had been sleeping at the foot of her bunk (it was too narrow for three, and tonight was Jhiqui’s turn to share the soft featherbed with her khaleesi)

Daenerys lets one of her handmaidens sleep on the floor every night. Not because she’s being cruel or malicious, but because she doesn’t seem to notice how uncomfortable that must be for them. Unintentionally, Daenerys takes advantage of her position of power by allowing people to do things like sleep on the floor or go out to die for her, and does not think twice about these decisions. Being in a position of power, especially being a Queen in a medieval setting, puts people in a position where they have control over other people’s lives and their deaths, so when Daenerys has to make these choices, she should approach them with a great weight. And sometimes, often even, she does; but there are noticeable slips, moments where she outweighs the lives she controls, that are slightly alarming. A Dance with Dragons gets into this aspect of Daenerys a lot more, but it’s been present in all her chapters and A Storm of Swords is no exception.

Mhysa

So much of Daenerys’ arc is about her family, legacy, and motherhood. She is constantly being pulled in two different direction in life, whether that be by outside forces or her own internal monologue, and who she chooses to mother is no different. Her two identities, Mother of Dragons and Mhysa, stand at odds with each other.

Mirri Maz Duur telling Daenerys that she can’t have children impacts her hugely, and she invests in her dragons as if they were her children:

She felt very lonely all of a sudden. Mirri Maz Duur had promised that she would never bear a living child. House Targaryen will end with me. That made her sad. “You must be my children,” she told the dragons, “my three fierce children. Arstan says dragons live longer than men, so you will go on after I am dead.”

So much of what drives Daenerys is the idea that she’s alone in the world, that no one else is like her. House Targaryen will end with me. The way she bonds with her dragons is her attempt at having children, giving herself a future that can outlive her. She becomes fiercely protective and maternal over them:

At first Groleo had wanted the dragons caged and Dany had consented to put his fears at ease, but their misery was so palpable, that she soon changed her mind and insisted they be freed.

And she watches them learn and grow with tremendous pride:

Viserion’s scales were the color of fresh cream, his horns, wing bones, and spinal crest a dark gold that flashed bright as metal in the sun. Rhaegal was made of the green of summer and the bronze of fall. They soared above the ships in wide circles, higher and higher, each trying to climb above the other.

The joy she gets as they learn the command “dracarys” or watches them fly for the first time, is like a parent. Her dragons are the only children she will ever have, and she is determined to love them more than anything in the world. And beyond just being a mother, they become her identity; back in A Game of Thrones she thought to herself “daughter of dragons, bride of dragons, mother of dragons”. She thinks that she wants them to be her legacy when she dies, but they already are; everything she does is because of them. Just the idea of giving Drogon away makes her feel sick:

It was a wretched thing she did. The Mother of Dragons has sold her strongest child. Even the thought made her ill.

By the time she has told Kraznys this lie, that’s all it is; she never intended to sell Drogon. Saying the words, hollow as they were, is enough to turn her stomach. Her dragons are everything to her, even her identity.

And then she arrives outside the gates of Yunkai:

Dany felt a lightness in her chest. I will never bear a living child, she remembered. Her hand trembled as she raised it. Perhaps she smiled. She must have, because the man grinned and shouted again, and others took up the cry. “Mhysa!” they called. “Mhysa! MHYSA!” They were all smiling at her, reaching for her, kneeling before her.

Suddenly there are thousands of people, cheering, screaming, that she is their mother. These people that she liberated, that she saved, are now looking up to her like they’re her children. She has more than the dragons now; she has a people that are hers.

By the time we get to A Dance with Dragons, even though she tries not to, Daenerys just hates these people. She hates their city, she hates their culture, she hates all the things they’ve taken from her. But to understand how she ends up so miserable, you have to see just how much she loved them and was willing to give up for them:

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

Already there’s hints of Daenerys’ frustration, but she refuses to leave them behind. Even though they’re quickly eating through her food supplies, eating off the land so quickly she can’t gain more, and almost none of them can actually fight for her, she lets them come with her. And when taking Meereen without a slaughter seems impossible, Daenerys’ men again advise her to abandon all the people she brought with her from Astapor and Yunkai, but she refuses:

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

She rides out among them, so they can see her and get strength from her:

If it helps give them courage, let them touch me, she thought. There are hard trials yet ahead. . .

The language of that is incredibly similar to the House of the Undying, when Daenerys is giving her life to the screaming crowd before it turns into the Undying Ones stealing it from her. I’ll get into it more later, but Daenerys is so in love with her people, her children, that she decides to stay in Meereen for them.

So she has these two identities, one belonging to her dragons and the other to her people. She doesn’t have to choose yet, but the stage has been set for Daenerys to make a choice; is she going to mother thousands of poor and enslaved people, or the three dragons that saved her life in the Dothraki Sea?

Do All Gods Feel So Lonely?

As the books go on, even though Daenerys begins to surround herself by more people and close companions, she only feels more alone. As I mentioned before, Daenerys is in many ways the product of tragedy; tragedies that have left her feeling alone and cut off from everyone else. And becoming a khaleesi and leading thousands of people takes her feelings of loneliness and turns them into something else, more like paranoia; and as people betray her and attempts are made against her life, those feelings only grow.

So much of her childhood was running from place to place, the only constant in her life being Viserys; and the older she gets, and the more distance she puts between that time in her life and where she is now, she loses that image of Viserys she had:

“I was alone for a long time, Jorah. All alone but for my brother. I was such a small scared thing. Viserys should have protected me, but instead he hurt me and scared me worse. He shouldn’t have done that.”

She still tries desperately to cling to the good memories she has of him, though:

Viserys had been stupid and vicious, she had come to realize, yet sometimes she missed him all the same. Not the cruel weak man he had become by the end, but the brother who had sometimes let her creep into his bed, the boy who told her tales of the Seven Kingdoms, and talked of how much better their lives would be once he claimed his throne.

The only other person that Daenerys sees as dependable in her life is Ser Jorah Mormont; but A Storm of Swords sees her emotionally cutting ties with him, too. In A Clash of Kings, the seeds for it were planted, as Daenerys felt slightly betrayed in the way he saw her; as a child or a woman, but never a Queen. Daenerys was willing to look past that, and give him time to see her for the Queen that she wants to be; but then he takes advantage of her, treating her as child he can take advantage of as a woman:

“And my vest-” she started to say, turning.

Ser Jorah slid his arms around her.

“Oh,” was all Dany had time to say as he pulled her close and pressed his lips down on hers. He smelled of sweat and salt and leather, and the iron studs on his jerkin dug into her naked breasts as he crushed her hard against him. One hand held her by the shoulder, while the other slid down her spine to the small of her back, and her mouth opened for his tongue, though she never told it to. His beard is scratchy, she thought, but his mouth is sweet. The Dothraki wore no beards, only long mustaches, and only Khal Drogo had ever kissed her before. He should not be doing this. I am his queen, not his woman.

While it is obvious that Daenerys is made incredibly uncomfortable by Jorah’s advances, the way she explains it to herself is not entirely honest:

“I . . . that was not fitting. I am your queen.”

“My queen,” he said, “and the bravest, sweetest, and most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Daenerys-”

“Your Grace!”

She is quick to remind Jorah, and herself, that what he did was wrong because she is his Queen. But it becomes clear as the chapters go on that Daenerys is really feeling a different sort of betrayal:

Dany could feel tears welling in her eyes, sudden and unwanted. Her hand flashed up and cracked Ser Jorah hard across the face. It was either that, or cry.

Mormont touched the cheek she'd slapped. "If I have displeased my queen—"

"You have. You've displeased me greatly, ser. If you were my true knight, you would never have brought me to this vile sty." If you were my true knight, you would never have kissed me, or looked at my breasts the way you did, or . . .

Daenerys is still a young girl, 15 or 16, and Jorah is a grown man leering at her. And while she doesn’t entirely understand what she’s feeling, because she was raised in a society where that sort of thing is widely accepted and she was sold to the highest bidder at 13, it’s clear that Daenerys feels used and taken advantage of sexually by Jorah. She’s in a unique position within the story, because she is the only woman we see who is in a position of power above their abuser. And while the entire foundation of their society has taught Daenerys to accept behavior like that as a woman, being a Queen gives her an outlet for her rage. She can’t let herself be mad at Jorah as the little girl he’s being sexually aggressive with, but she can punish him as his Queen:

He should never have done that. He is thrice my age, and of too low a birth for me, and I never gave him leave. No true knight would ever kiss a queen without her leave. She had taken care never to be alone with Ser Jorah after that, keeping her handmaids witth her aboard ship, and sometimes her bloodriders. He wants to kiss me again, I see it in his eyes.

While she hasn’t fully lost Jorah yet, the growing divide between them makes Daenerys feel very alone:

It was a long, dark, windy night that followed. Dany fed her dragons as she always did, but found she had no appetite herself. She cried awhile, alone in her cabin, then dried her tears long enough for yet another argument with Groleo.

But this betrayal of Daenerys by Jorah isn’t quite tangible; Daenerys hardly understands what she feels and why feels it, and almost thinks of herself as irrational in her anger toward him. Not until she finds out about his political betrayal, something she can point to and see exactly how he could have hurt her, does she banish him out of her life.

At the start of the book, Daenerys has already had two attempts against her life and is understandably paranoid:

Ser Jorah saved me from the poisoner, and Arstan Whitebeard from the manticore. Perhaps Strong Belwas will save me from the next.

Not only does this tell us that Daenerys fears another attempt on her life (which she’s right to worry over), but it also comes at the end of a long argument she has with herself over how likely Arstan Whitebeard and Strong Belwas are to betray her. (It’s also a nice piece of foreshadowing, considering Belwas will eventually save her from a poisoner). Daenerys is starting to see enemies all around.

Yet, just as when the poisoner at the market and the Sorrowful Man with the manticore tried to kill her, Daenerys does not see the next attempt at her life coming:

Dany had stopped to speak to a pregnant woman who wanted the Mother of Dragons to name her baby when someone reached up and grabbed her left wrist. Turning, she glimpsed a tall ragged man with a shaved head and a sunburnt face. "Not so hard," she started to say, but before she could finish he'd yanked her bodily from the saddle. The ground came up and knocked the breath from her, as her silver whinnied and backed away. Stunned, Dany rolled to her side and pushed herself onto one elbow . . .

The man who tries to kill her, Mero, tells her this:

“There’s the treacherous sow,” he said. “I knew you’d come to get your feet kissed one day.”

He’s using the kindness Daenerys has, her willingness to ride out amongst her people to give them hope, and turning it against her. And in her mind, this is not the first time that has happened. When she tried to save Eroeh and instead she was raped and murdered, when she put trust in Mirri Maz Duur only to get Drogo and Rhaego killed, all of these times she tries to do something good it falls apart. In A Storm of Swords, Daenerys will still fight and try to save people, but this book helps to set up for when she eventually breaks.

And later the same day, Daenerys learns the full truth of both Arstan Whitebeard and Jorah:

“Before I took Robert’s pardon I fought against him on the Trident. You were on the other side of that battle, Mormont, were you not?” He did not wait for an answer. “Your Grace, I am sorry I misled you. It was the only way to keep the Lannisters from learning that I had joined you. You are watched, as your brother was. Lord Varys reported every move Viserys made, for years. Whilst I sat on the small council, I heard a hundred such reports. And since the day you wed Khal Drogo, there has been an informer by your side selling your secrets, trading whispers to the Spider for gold and promises.”

The weight of Jorah’s betrayal, made even worse by the small lies Ser Barristan has been telling, hits Daenerys like a pile of bricks. She was nothing but good to him – she was going to take him home! And he still sold her to the Usurper and his dogs; the person she trusted most in the world still betrayed her. I find it interesting that Daenerys does not let her anger and hurt fully overwhelm her until Jorah confesses that he told Robert Baratheon that she was pregnant with Khal Drogo’s baby; the rage she feels at him for putting Rhaego in harms way is in some way misplaced at anyone other than herself, since she is the one who put her baby in reckless danger chasing the ghost of Khal Drogo.

After Daenerys learns of Jorah’s betrayal, she can’t go back to the way she was before. Suddenly, whereas before she was rightfully paranoid but often trusting, she is just waiting for someone to betray her next. The prophecies of the House of the Undying weigh on her, and everywhere she turns she sees a traitor in waiting:

Daario and Ben Plumm, Grey Worm, Irri, Jhiqui, Missandei. . . as she looked at them Dany found herself wondering which of them would betray her next.

And it starts to affect the way she treats people:

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

Is this an act of genuine kindness, a heartwarming promise Dany is making to see Missandei feel safe on Naath? Or is Daenerys just trying to avoid another betrayal? We don’t get to know a definitive answer to this because Daenerys doesn’t know herself.

Justice . . . That's What Kings Are For

This is the first book where Daenerys has some real agency to make choices as a Queen or Khaleesi, and we see the shape of her ruling philosophy start to take form. And she does have some great ideas about how Kings and Queens should rule, and what kind of justice they should make for their subjects. But there is also a darker side to how she wields her power; a harsh, rash, childish cruelty that looks less like justice and more like violence for the sake of violence.

Daenerys wants to be a benevolent Queen, and strives to be as fair as she can be:

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

As well as listening to the both the high and lowborn, Daenerys still believes in the idea of justice:

He wasn’t just my brother, he was my king. Why do the gods make kings and queens, if not to protect the ones who can’t protect themselves?”

“Some kings make themselves. Robert did.”

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

On the surface, this sounds like a strong moral philosophy for a Queen to have. The responsibility Kings, Queens, and Lords had, the social contract, was to protect the people below them; to use their unmatched power to protect the weak and keep the strong in check. Kings are for justice.

But Daenerys is already showing a double standard; she refused to call Robert Baratheon a king because he “did no justice”, but she still gives the title to Viserys – even though she thinks he was vicious and cruel. Viserys did no justice, and Daenerys knows that better than anyone. So why does he get to be a King? Because he’s a Targaryen. Daenerys really does try to be benevolent and fair, but it always runs up against the way she views herself and her family. Before Barristan reveals his true identity to her, he tries to tell the truth about her father as gently as he can, and Daenerys cannot hear it:

Whitebeard did his best to hide his feelings, but they were there, plain on his face. “His Grace was. . . often pleasant.”

“Often?” Dany smiled. “But not always?”

“He could be very harsh to those he thought his enemies.”

“A wise man never makes an enemy of a king,” said Dany.

Even though she can see the discomfort plain on Arstan’s face, Daenerys chooses to place blame on the men who challenged her father.

Daenerys’ thoughts on Kings and Queens often seem equal parts reassuring and discomforting. For every good thought she has, an equally worrying one chases right after:

“Only lies offend me, never honest counsel.” Dany patted Arstan’s spotted hand to reassure him. “I have a dragon’s temper, that’s all. You must not let it frighten you.”

Her being open to council and disagreement sets her apart from many of the tyrants we’ve seen elsewhere in the story. But the way she excuses her temper is concerning. Barristan offered well meaning council, and was met with a rather aggressive put down from Daenerys; even though she says that honest council could never offend her, she hardly gives Barristan reason to give it. And when Barristan desperately tries to talk her out of selling Drogon to Kraznys, she again rebukes him:

Whitebeard stared in shocked disbelief. His hand trembled where it grasped the staff. “No.” He went to one knee before her. “Your Grace, I beg you, win your throne with dragons, not slaves. You must not do this thing.”

“You must not presume to instruct me. Ser Jorah, remove Whitebeard from my presence.”

“Whitebeard,” she said, “I want your counsel, and you should never fear to speak your mind with me. . . when we are alone. But never question me in front of strangers. Is that understood?”

Daenerys is not entirely wrong; it is not the best look as a Queen if your advisors are openly disagreeing with you. But Barristan only disagreed with her publicly because she had given him no choice to do it privately; Daenerys did not tell anyone of her plans in Astapor. From Barristan’s perspective, Daenerys is about to sell the single most valuable item in the entire world to buy an army of slaves, which he knows Westeros will not take kindly to. And not only does he believe this is a political misstep, he has made it clear to Dany that it is morally abhorrent. When he questions her, he does not do it from a place of superiority; he gets down on one knee and begs her to change her mind. Daenerys also shows him no sympathy, even though she knows he is right; she was never going to sell Drogon, never. I understand her putting on a show for Kraznys and the slavers so they don’t catch on to her game, but in private she has no reason to be so harsh to Barristan for voicing a belief she herself holds.

While Daenerys’ talk of justice sounds appealing for a monarch, the way she actually carries it out is less enchanting. When Kraznys is demonstrating how strong the Unsullied are, he shows her a grave example of their ferocity:

He stopped before a thickset man who had the look of Lhazar about him and brought his whip up sharply, laying a line of blood across one copper cheek. The eunuch blinked, and stood there, bleeding.

Daenerys has to stop him from hitting the man again, and is horrified by the inhuman response of the Unsullied, who are drugged and conditioned not to feel pain. So when she holds the whip instead of Kraznys, Daenerys doesn’t hesitate to hurt him the same way:

“There is a reason. A dragon is no slave.” And Dany swept the lash down as hard as she could across the slaver’s face. Kraznys screamed and staggered back, the blood running red down his cheeks into his perfumed beard.

There is something wholly righteous about this anger, a certain release in seeing someone hurt in the same way they hurt others. But the way in which it doesn’t matter to Daenerys is what gives me pause:

The harpy's fingers had torn his features half to pieces with one slash, but she did not pause to contemplate the ruin. "Drogon," she sang out loudly, sweetly, all her fear forgotten. "Dracarys."

The black dragon spread his wings and roared.

A lance of swirling dark flame took Kraznys full in the face. His eyes melted and ran down his cheeks, and the oil in his hair and beard burst so fiercely into fire that for an instant the slaver wore a burning crown twice as tall as his head. The sudden stench of charred meat overwhelmed even his perfume, and his wail seemed to drown all other sound.

This is written very similar to when Daenerys steps inside Drogo’s funeral pyre. In that chapter, Daenerys is too focused on the beauty of the dancing flames, the screams of Mirri Maz Duur and her people in the background less important to her. And here it is the same; there is one moment where Kraznys’ screaming drowns out everything else, his face burning with fire high into the air, but it is hardly enough to grab Daenerys’ attention.

When Daenerys is 163 miles from the gates of Meereen, she sees another horror as bad as the Plaza of Punishment:

Worst of all, they had nailed a slave child up on every milepost along the coast road from Yunkai, nailed them up still living with their entrails hanging out and one arm always outstretched to point the way to Meereen. Leading her van, Daario had given orders for the children to be taken down before Dany had to see them, but she had countermanded him as soon as she was told. "I will see them," she said. "I will see every one, and count them, and look upon their faces. And I will remember."

And, rightly, Daenerys cannot let this horror go unpunished:

Dany set great store by Ser Jorah's counsel, but to leave Meereen untouched was more than she could stomach. She could not forget the children on their posts, the birds tearing at their entrails, their skinny arms pointing up the coast road.

But the way Daenerys punishes the Great Masters seems frighteningly unlike justice:

“I want your leaders," Dany told them. "Give them up, and the rest of you shall be spared."

"How many?" one old woman had asked, sobbing. "How many must you have to spare us?"

"One hundred and sixty-three," she answered.

She had them nailed to wooden posts around the plaza, each man pointing at the next. The anger was fierce and hot inside her when she gave the command; it made her feel like an avenging dragon. But later, when she passed the men dying on the posts, when she heard their moans and smelled their bowels and blood. . .

Dany put the glass aside, frowning. It was just. It was. I did it for the children.

Daenerys has no idea how many “leaders” Meereen has. It could be any number more or less than 163; there could be dozens of men complicit in the crucifixions of the children who are free in the city, or a dozen men who knew nothing of the children nailed upon a cross for someone else’s crimes. She also leaves it up to the Great Masters of Meereen to choose the 163 men she will crucify; there is a chance that they were honest in who committed the crime, but it seems much more likely that the Great Masters picked the least respected of them to give to Daenerys.

A part of Daenerys knows what she did was wrong, though:

Dany remembered the horror she had felt when she had seen the Plaza of Punishment in Astapor. I made a horror just as great, but surely they deserved it. Harsh justice is still justice.

But Daenerys was not after justice, she was after revenge. Her crucifying the Great Masters is very similar to when Ned refused to let Loras Tyrell go after The Mountain in the Riverlands:

Ned looked down on him. From on high, Loras Tyrell seemed almost as young as Robb. "No one doubts your valor, Ser Loras, but we are about justice here, and what you seek is vengeance." He looked back to Lord Beric. "Ride at first light. These things are best done quickly." He held up a hand. "The throne will hear no more petitions today."

Vengeance isn’t entirely wrong, but it is much more dangerous than justice. Daenerys did not consider her actions, did not make sure the right men paid for the crime; she picked an entirely arbitrary number, 163, and an equal number of arbitrary men and killed them. The Great Masters are infinitely more culpable in their deaths than innocent children ever could be, but Daenerys decided to play by their own rules in serving them “justice”. There is something harshly satisfying about that; but something equally disquieting, too.

And, going back to the connection she shares with her dragons, this passage stands out:

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

Irri was watching the dragons while Daenerys had her fight with Jorah. So, when Daenerys is angry, her dragons are increasingly volatile; ending in someone innocent getting hurt.

It’s also incredibly interesting to me, what Daenerys is able to handle and what she isn’t. When her men first see the crucified children, Daario, Barristan, and Jorah try to have them taken down before Daenerys can see; but she demands the dead children stay on their crosses, so she can see every single one and remember. She didn’t want to shy away from the cruelty of Meereen and the Great Masters, and instead wanted to see it firsthand for when she would be in a position to get justice. Yet Daenerys doesn’t have the stomach for this:

“Viserys was a child, and the queen sheltered him as much as she could. Your father always had a little madness in him, I now believe. Yet he was charming and generous as well, so his lapses were forgiven. His reign began with such promise. . . but as the years passed, the lapses grew more frequent, until. . .”

Dany stopped him. “Do I want to hear this now?”

When it was someone else’s horror, Daenerys understood why she needed to see the crucified children; she wanted to know, so she could make those men pay. But when it comes to her own father, Daenerys doesn’t want to know, and won’t let Barristan tell her. The vague idea of her father being mad, of knowing she needs to be careful with her own thoughts, is enough for her; the shocking cruelty, the details of the men Aerys murdered, is not important. Daenerys does not give Westeros the same curtesy she gives Meereen, because the monsters that tormented the Seven Kingdoms share a sigil with her.

The Face of A Conqueror

All of the different directions Daenerys is pulled in this book, and all her chapters really, comes back to a simple choice she has to make: to be the girl who lived in a house with a red door, or to be Daenerys Targaryen, of the blood of kings and conquerors. I think the problem a lot of people have when reading her chapters, is the assumption that it’s one choice to make, but in reality, it’s a series of choices. Like I said when I wrote about her A Game of Thrones chapters, the arc of a real person is not as clean as a traditional “narrative arc”; real people make good and bad choices, try to be better, backslide, rinse, repeat. I think Daenerys choosing to kill Mirri Maz Duur to birth her dragons sealed her fate in the way that her dragons were such a tangible thing, so real to her, that no matter what she would always go back to them. But that doesn’t mean that Daenerys doesn’t try exceptionally hard to be different. The end of her arc in A Storm of Swords is unique because it’s the only time (so far) where she has ended on the choice not to be Daenerys Stormborn.

In A Storm of Swords, Daenerys is trying desperately to be seen as a Queen and not a child:

“I am not a child,” she told him. “I am a queen.”

And even her line of being a young girl who doesn’t understand war, is about how Daenerys does not want to be seen that way; it’s an overly humble and self-deprecating line, something both her and her enemies know she doesn’t mean. It still works because the men of Slaver’s Bay are horribly sexist and will see her as stupid no matter what, but it is certainly not something Daenerys herself believes.

Yet, alone and to herself, Daenerys doesn’t know how to see herself:

Dany stared at herself in silence. Is this the face of a conqueror? So far as she could tell, she still looked like a little girl.

No one was calling her Daenerys the Conqueror yet, but perhaps they would.

The same person who sees herself as a lonely god can also look in a mirror and see a little girl. But it’s very important to her that no one else see her that way, not even her closest companions:

I am the blood of the dragon. I must be strong. I must have fire in my eyes when I face them, not tears.

Yet, even though she is trying her best to put on the face of a conqueror, the young girl in her is still searching:

“I was looking for a house with a red door, but by night all the doors are black.”

Part of why Daenerys can keep pushing forward, city after city, is the belief that somewhere out there is a house waiting for her; a red door promising everything she can’t seem to find anymore. She looks out on the whole city of Meereen, trying to find proof that she could belong there. When Missandei asks her about the house, Daenerys’ answer is revealing:

“A red door?” Missandei was puzzled. “What house is this?”

“No house. It does not matter.”

No house. Of course, when Daenerys answers that way, she is just hand waving so she doesn’t have to explain to Missandei a personal memory; but on a doylist level, it’s confirming something we’ve suspected for a long time: Dany is never going to find her house with a red door. The vivid memory she has of that time in her life when she was safe and happy and everything was perfect is what pulls her back from the edge more than anything else, and the longer she stays in Meereen and realizes there is no home for her there, the more she’s going to regret the choice she makes at the end of this book.

Another reason for why Daenerys turns back from completely embracing Fire & Blood so many times, is that being a conqueror makes her feel terrible. Most times, Daenerys is able to keep looking forward, onto the next city full of slaves she’ll set free, the next city to conquer, onward toward the Seven Kingdoms. But sometimes the memory of all the awful things she’s seen is too strong:

She found herself remembering Eroeh, the Lhazarene girl she had once tried to protect, and what had happened to her. It will be the same in Meereen once I march, she thought.

And she actively wants to be different than those that came before her:

“When Aegon the Dragon stepped ashore in Westeros, the kings of Vale and Rock and Reach did not rush to hand him their crowns. If you mean to sit his Iron Throne, you must win it as he did, with steel and dragonfire. And that will mean blood on your hands before the thing is done.”

Blood and fire, thought Dany. The words of House Targaryen. She had known them all her life. “The blood of my enemies I will shed gladly. The blood of innocents is another matter. Eight thousand Unsullied they would offer me. Eight thousand dead babes. Eight thousand strangled dogs.”

Up to this point, Daenerys was trying to balance both sides of herself; she wanted to sack cities and conquer peoples, but also save the girls from the horrors of war. She wanted to get her Seven Kingdoms and save Eroeh, too. But in her last chapter, she realizes that’s impossible:

All my victories turn to dross in my hands, she thought. Whatever I do, all I make is death and horror. When word of what had befallen Astapor reached the streets, as it surely would, tens of thousands of newly freed Meereenese slaves would doubtless decide to follow her when she went west, for fear of what awaited them if they stayed. . .

No matter her good intentions, thousands of girls will end up just like Eroeh. She thought she had done something good in Astapor, freeing eight thousand men and leaving the city in the hands of smart men on the path to a more just city; but instead she turned a nightmare into a living hell. Daenerys realizes that her path has to be that way; if she’s going to keep looking forward, forever toward Westeros, then she can’t avoid the horrific bloodshed.

And she decides she can’t keep going:

“I will not let this city go the way of Astapor. I will not let the harpy of Yunkai chain up those I’ve freed all over again.” She turned back to look at their faces. “I will not march.”

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

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

Daenerys realizes the human cost of what she’s doing, how even her good ideas only cost more lives and cause more suffering, and decides she has to change. Back in the Lhazareen village, after Daenerys turns back to save Eroeh and Mirri and all the rest, and after it falls apart so spectacularly, she makes a promise to herself: never look back. If I look back I am lost. The words serve as a reminder; that trying to help somebody had only hurt them worse, and cost her everything in the process. She needed to be like her khalasar, only looking forward on a beautiful horizon, and never back on the torn earth and trampled cities. But when she decides to stay in Meereen, for the first time since Eroeh, she breaks that promise to herself.

Daenerys’ arc this book is the best she will ever be. The character that some people fell in love with, to the point of ignoring so much else, is really on display here. Daenerys struggles, really struggles, and almost as often as not still makes the wrong choice, and gets people hurt over it too. But her heart is truly in the right place; she’s trying to fix problems she doesn’t understand, and makes a mess of it, but, in this book, she really wants to help. All of the red flags I mentioned are still there, and the seeds are planted for Daenerys to turn her back on her people, but before she does any of that, she makes the right choice.

A Storm of Swords is the story of how Daenerys looks back.

[crusherthedoctor]

Sonic Villains: Sweet or Shite? - Part 10: INFINITE

There are some villains I like. And there are some villains I don’t like. But why do I feel about them the way I do? That’s where this comes in.

This is a series of mine in which I go into slightly more detail about my thoughts on the villains in the Sonic the Hedgehog franchise, and why I think they either work well, or fall flat (or somewhere in-between). I’ll be giving my stance on their designs, their personalities, and what they had to show for themselves in the game(s) they featured in. Keep in mind that these are just my own personal thoughts. Whether you agree or disagree, feel free to share your own thoughts and opinions! I don’t bite. :>

Anyhow, for today’s installment, we’ll be sharpening our blades and resisting the pain as we discuss what it takes to be the right-hand henchman of Sonic Forces: Infinite.

The Gist: Dr. Eggman was minding his evildoing business when one day, from thin air emerged a particularly strange jewel that seemed to be drawn to him. Realising this was no mere Chaos Emerald, due to both its peculiar shape and its bizarre reality-distorting effects, Eggman immediately contemplated how he could effectively utilise this new gemstone for his purposes.

Suddenly, jackals!

“Go forth, Red Shirts!”

Eggman's base was under attack by the imaginatively titled Jackal Squad, a group of thieving mercenaries who figured they could profit from the theft of the doctor's equipment. Unfortunately for them, Eggman had Main Character Immunity, so their efforts to kill him send him to the Shadow Realm fell flat. Despite nearly getting killed by them, Eggman knew an opportunity when he saw one, and he offered the role of apprenticeship to the squad's heterochromia-inflicted leader. His fellow jackals insisted not to take up the offer, because even they knew the risks, but the leader signed up immediately, because he's not all right in the head if you know what I'm saying.

In a cruel twist of fate, Eggman's first request for his new stooges was for them to take care of Shadow the Hedgehog. That Shadow the Hedgehog. Ultimate Lifeform Shadow the Hedgehog. Fast, immortal, capable of stopping time, drops his bracelets to grow even stronger Shadow the Hedgehog. They had to defeat that Shadow the Hedgehog.

They did not succeed.

BOOOONESAAAAAW’S READYYYYYYYY

After metaphorically and literally murdering the rest of the already forgotten squad, Shadow gave some parting words to their defeated leader, and those parting words were responsible for what happened next, and everything after. As someone who prided himself on being the ultimate mercenary, Mr. Jackal was bloody well peeved off about coming to terms with his physical shortcomings, and thus decided to give himself an upgrade in the form of sticking a gem on his chest, putting on a mask worthy of a heavy metal cover, and rechristening himself as... Infinite. Infinite power. Infinite possibilities. Infinite memes.

The upgrade paid off. With the aid of the gem, known to us as the Phantom Ruby, Eggman's latest minion was able to distort the environment, summon past foes, and do what no other villain not retconned out of existence had ever managed to achieve: defeat Sonic the Hedgehog.

Eggman was delighted. The past foes were delighted too, as evidenced by how they stood there to take it all in.

This is a very sentimental moment for them.

With Sonic out of the way, Eggman was able to take over 99% of the planet, because Sonic's friends were tragically all on holiday at the same time. During the subsequent six months of suffering and strife, Infinite relished in the doctor's conquest, but not as much as he relished in killing and terrorizing innocents. One incident in particular involved him leaving behind a scared youngster for the sake of letting them know fear. This would turn out to be a big mistake on his part, when - with the ever reliable power of friendship - said youngster would go on to oppose him as part of the Resistance. (This franchise isn't known for creative group names.)

“L’Oreal: Because I’m not weak.”

The formerly incapacitated Sonic also managed to eventually break free from his captivity, and proceeded to do what he does best alongside his new friend. Infinite was having none of this, and so he made absolutely certain to... leave him alive. Despite Eggman's insistence that a freed Sonic could cause as much trouble as a freed Sonic could in every other situation since 1991, Infinite remained confident that he couldn't be beaten. Three guesses for how that turned out. The first two don't count.

He was serious about crushing the Resistance though, and together with Eggman, not only did they summon a whole army of clones, they also summoned an artificial sun that, upon reaching the ground, would ensure the Resistance would meet a terrible fate. Good always triumphs however, and the clones were fought, the sun was vanquished, and Infinite himself was defeated once and for all.

It was at this point that Eggman decided to reveal that Infinite was a sham, a distraction, a red herring. For all his power, Infinite was little more than a glorified mook the whole time. Infinite was never the doctor's endgame. He was. Infinite didn't even have true mastery over the Phantom Ruby... but he did.

Death Chad Robot.

In just a few minutes, Eggman tapped into the power of the Ruby more than Infinite ever did, and overclocked it to turn his Doc Ock-looking mech into a beast. But through thick and thin (and a second Nega-Wisp Armor), Sonic and his ambiguously named friend teamed up to take the madman down, because we're Sonic Heroes.

The world was saved from further tyranny, and Eggman went on to either lose his memory or shrug it off to take part in racing spinoffs depending on the continuity. But Infinite - or rather, the jackal who called himself Infinite - remains absent. He could be alive. He could be dead. He could finally get a haircut. His fate is a mystery that we may never know the answer to. Maybe he's spending his retirement climbing the tallest of mountains.

The Design: Careful you don't cut yourself with all this edge.

You could have gotten yourself an eyepatch for half the price.

Demonic eyes, dark colours, anime hair... he's a villain alright. Infinite's design is unashamed of itself. It knows it's ridiculous, and it goes all out with it, which - let's be frank - matches the character in general pretty reasonably. Funnily enough, I don't have much else to say about it. It's not my favourite character design in the world, but I can credit them for pioneering loudspeaker ears. And at least he's not a hedgehog. Or an echidna.

If you listen carefully, you can hear Shadow sighing in relief under the knowledge that he's no longer the edgiest guy in the room.

The Personality: What's an easy way to make a villain a villain? By making them pointlessly sadistic, of course.

"You may call this the Sonic Chronicles soundtrack... in the brief moments that remain to your eardrums."

And I don't speak lightly when I say pointless. Infinite's penchant for sadism is actually treated as a character flaw, as it contributes heavily to his ultimate downfall. He wastes time by drawing out his kills, and his decision to leave his greatest foes alive because they're supposedly "not worth killing" bites him in the ass on more than one occasion. Even Eggman calls him out on his shitty decisions.

"Don't get cocky with me, son. This ain't the Adventure Era anymore.”

And this ties in with how he is in general. Infinite, for all his delusions of grandeur and nihilistic waxing, is a bit of a fuck up. Him and his squad combined couldn't even take on Eggman on his own (albeit with a Phantom Ruby in his possession), and when the mask comes on, it becomes clear that he only defeated Sonic through the element of unfamiliarity. Once Sonic starts to know about him and fights him for real, Infinite doesn't rely on the Phantom Ruby nearly as well as he could. He has a jewel that can do all sorts of distortions, and all he can think to do with it is use basic lasers and blasts for the most part. He's a thug at the end of the day. A powerful thug, but a thug all the same.

Despite this, though it's only hinted here and there, it seems that he has an Inferiority Superiority Complex. His passionate response to Shadow calling him pathetic (ironically, he never actually said he was weak) goes without saying, but then there's his dramatic speeches about having no hope, and how you can't count on anyone, and blah blah blah eat a Snickers already.

The Execution: Much like Erazor Djinn, you may have gathered that this character has a lot in common with everyone's favourite Ice Age antique, Mephiles the Dark. Like Erazor, Infinite is a better (albeit flawed) take on Mephiles' schtick, but whereas Erazor better emulates the success that Mephiles tried to go for, Infinite better represents the failure that Mephiles actually is... right down to showing how Silver would react if he had actual brain cells.

Above: Character development.

Hell, they both share the fate of getting swatted by Omega.

Not bitter at all.

Anyway, to explain this requires some elaboration. I'm aware that a lot of what I've said about Infinite sounds negative, and that's not entirely untrue, since I'll be the first to admit that he could have been handled a little better, and fleshed out a bit more, especially with all the pre-release hype and attention he was given. At the same time however, he's still leagues above the likes of Mephiles, for one simple reason that we discussed previously: his incompetence is intentional.

Maybe not fully - the pre-Infinite breakdown probably wasn't meant to be as comedic as it ended up being - but you can't tell me his setbacks weren't there on purpose. Eggman lost the war because Infinite left his enemies alive and free. Eggman lost the war because Infinite clumsily left a Phantom Ruby replica behind. Eggman lost the war because Infinite kept messing around when he had better things to do, didn't know what to do other than blindly attack when the chips were down, and got disposed of with little fanfare by the doctor after having failed him enough times. Compare all this to Eggman himself in the same game, who despite being known for his childishness and occasional shortsightedness, had a lot of genuine foresight to share around, and went from backup plan to backup plan like it was nothing.

In other words, Infinite could be seen as a well-needed deconstruction of villains like Mephiles, and why they're not as great as they look at first glance. And in that respect, he's kind of a genius concept.

“Ugh, MORE shitty friends...”

Infinite is a very divisive character, and I can see why. Alongside his far from perfect execution, many fans were expecting and hoping for a straight example of late 00's Sonic villains, in part because that's what the marketing and his infamous theme song set him up as and partly because '06 is now considered better than everything afterwards because Baldy McNosehair is literally oppressing all Sonic fans across the world. If you're like me on the other hand, and don't have the slightest unironic interest in those kind of villains, you can probably respect Infinite a little more for addressing the elephant in the room. And even though he is indeed flawed, I think most of that has to do with the wasted potential of the plot itself rather than anything inherently to do with Infinite's own character.

He's no Eggman, Erazor, Metal Sonic, or Hard-Boiled Heavies. But he's above Mephiles, Black Doom, Eggman Nega, and so many others who blend together after a while. Still, maybe someone should assist Shadow the next time he decides to insult somebody.

Crusher Gives Infinite a: Thumbs Sideways!

[checkfortraps]

Please tell me all about Tyrea! As a fellow world builder I love hearing about other peoples worlds.

Okay okay okay, buckle up cuz this is gonna be a long ride, y’all. Hope the read more works, otherwise I’m very sorry, mobile users! (This is like 1,800 words I’m so sorry)

There are many different beliefs about the origins of the world, as vast as varying as the sea of cosmic matter it has been wrought from. Every race, every culture and generation tells a different tale about how Tyrea and all its inhabitants came to be. The most widely accepted theory though, enforced by the aasimar and those druids old enough to have allegedly witnessed those events, is that of the Prime Deities.

The Origin

At the dawn of time, there was only the elemental chaos seeping from the Planes, a whirling mass of cosmic matter and gleaming sparks of life coalescing in an endless void.

This fountain of sheer possibility and promise attracted powerful beings of light from the Astral Plane, who forged the directionless potential into tangible creation: A world of great beauty and strength, filled with wonders unnumbered as the stars strewn across the skies. From the hand of these creator gods, these Prime Deities, also sprung the inhabitants of this newly-created paradise: First the planetars, sculpted in the image of their creators, as ageless and bright and just as they were. Second the elves and the dwarves, graceful and strong, gifted with a life spanning centuries. Third the humans, creative and bright, burning up their own divine spark in pursuit of greatness. In time, many more races followed, given birth by the ever-inspired minds of the Prime Deities.

But they misjudged the threat the Planes proved to their creations. The chaos seeped through cracks in the cosmic fabric, crashing against the great green lands, plunging them into the first war. The mortals fought valiantly against the tides of magic flooding their realms, but were overwhelmed soon, all their progress shattered as they were slowly being consumed by the very material they had been forged from.

The pain of their children broke the Prime Deities’ hearts, and they decided to give up their ethereal form, donning mortal flesh instead to hold back the tides of chaos. Their physical presence within the Material Plane caused their divinity to bleed onto their children, involuntarily gifting them with the first magic. This shift of power proved a major asset in the fight against the chaos, allowing the mortals to join it in earnest. Together, the Prime Deities and their creations drove the intangible foe back and strengthened the barriers between the Planes to ensure this would never happen again.

Peace and quiet followed these harrowing events. The Prime Deities joined their powers once again, creating the metallic dragons to watch over and protect the mortal realms while they themselves acted as guides throughout the centuries of rebuilding. Beneath their gentle hands, the mortal races thrived, expanding and developing, countless cultures and cities springing forth from their boundless creativity.

The Fading

Over the course of several millennia, the Prime Deities gave so much of themselves to the rebuilding of the world that their powers started to fade. They found their physical bodies decaying, slowly reverting back to their formless existence as beings of light. Most of them gave in to this transition, accepting it as the natural order of the cosmos that all divine energy has to return to their origin eventually.

But some deities were jealous of the permanence granted to their children, unwilling to part with the power they wielded in the Material Plane. They held on with all energy they had left, trying to convince the mortal races that they still needed their creators, hoping they would help them find a way to keep their physical bodies. Their children, however, were becoming increasingly disconnected from them the more they faded, and they rejected the guidance of their gods, instead opting to forge their own destiny. And with every believer lost, the lingering Prime Deities dwindled more, revealing the bond connecting them to their creation.

The Divine Tyranny

Enraged by the betrayal of their children, the remaining gods broke with the oaths they swore when they created the world. They crushed the mortal realms under the boot of tyranny and war, destroying and conquering their way back to their original status and winning back their physical form. But every step on this way, they were opposed by the metallic dragons, who defended the mortal realms to their last breath by the divine decree of the Prime Deities that had left for other planes. In time, they too were crushed, though, and the divine beings now known as the Betrayer Gods, ruled supreme. 

Despairing over this crushing defeat, the planetars, first children of the gods, gathered all their remaining divine energy to take to the very heavens, sailing past the elemental chaos and into the Astral Plane to search for their lost parents. Meanwhile, the Betrayer Gods continued to subjugate the mortals left behind, aided by a corrupted sub-race of dragons called the Chromatics.

Centuries passed, and the planetars faded from the minds of their peers, the process hastened by the burning of libraries and temples sanctioned by the Betrayer Gods and executed by the Chromatics. Only the oldest and bravest druids and the aasimar, the children of the planetars and the mortal races, still dared to speak about the divine beings that had left them. But their stories were largely discounted as mere folk tales, even more so when the rage of the Betrayer Gods began to dwindle, and they became if not gentle, then at least just rulers over the mortal races. They grew idle and content with their kingdom and did not long for anything beyond what they won for themselves.

The Rise of Leanor, the Cosmic Devourer, and the Shattering of the World

One of the Betrayer Gods, who called himself Xeros, god of death, took a mortal wife, a beautiful aasimar named Leanor. Theirs was a great love, preserved in many a bard’s tale of yore, one full of passion and dedication and magnificient splendour. But where Xeros was content with his domain, judging over the souls of the dead in the plane he called the Shadowfell, Leanor nursed greater ambitions. She proposed to tear down the borders between the Planes again, taming the elemental chaos to brave the Astral Plane and create a kingdom spanning the whole cosmos. When Xenos refused, she destroyed his mortal coil and trapped his essence in a jewel, elevating herself to godhood.

An age of conquest began, in which Leanor allied with some of the more ruthless Betrayer Gods and the chromatic dragons to wage war on those who did not want to join them. Thousands upon thousands of souls and dozens of divine essences were trapped in Leanor’s jewel, eventually fueling a ritual that weakened the barrier between the Planes.

Elemental chaos began to batter the world once again, crushing life and culture for the second time in its history. Leanor fed on those cosmic currents until she consumed enough to transform herself into a titanic, draconic creature coiling around the world. Poisoned fangs drained natural resources to help her grow ever further, while her terrible wings blacked out the sun, plunging the world into perpetual darkness.

When Leanor, the Cosmic Devourer, as she fancied herself, grew too great and strong, she shattered the world under her grasp, and pieces of the once great continent gracing the world’s surface were scattered all across the elemental chaos of the oceans, creating secluded islands separated by distances too great for any ship to cross safely.

The Return of the Prime Deities, and the Age of Bravery

The desperate survivors of this disaster started praying. For the return of the planetars, and for the Prime Deities swooping down from the heavens to defeat the Cosmic Devourer. They found solace in the promises of the elders that there might yet lie salvation beyond those restless, doomed stars.

And, miraculously, their prayers were answered. Centuries away, the planetars finally found the Prime Deities in their new, far-away realm, where they shared their wisdom and power with other creations. 

When the Prime Deities heard of the terrible plight of their first children, they wept, rivers of cosmic matter coalescing into what later came to be called the Ethereal Plane. Touched by the soul-crushing pain of their divine parents, the inhabitants of that new realm offered to traverse the Astral Plane and deliver the lost world from the great evil that were the Betrayer Gods, even if it meant their own demise.

Accepting the offer with bleeding hearts, the Prime Deities swore two oaths: They would right the terrible wrongs of their siblings they left behind, and they would never abandon their creation ever again, protecting it to their last breath. 

By their powers combined, the Prime Deities teleported their children across the Astral Plane, following the steps mapped out by the planetars. Their arrival to their first creation came with heavy losses, as they were not prepared for the terrible power of Leanor and her allies. But they recovered quickly, launching a counter-assault that grew into a war spanning centuries. 

Whole generations rose and fell during this great war. Yet the mortals and their divine avengers fought on, fueled by the sharp rage and regret of the Prime Deities. When their numbers were too harshly decimated, they retreated into the Astral Plane to recover, while the Prime Deities held the line against Leanor all on their own, taking heavy losses.

After three centuries that became known as the Age of Bravery, the Prime Deities began to weaken, exhausted by the endless war. Defeat was imminent when a mortal band of adventurers called the Order of Last Hope proposed a terrible plan: Sacrifice one of the last remaining Prime Deities and forge a sword out of their essence that could pierce Leanor’s hide and allow them to wrench the black jewel, the source of the Cosmic Devourer’s power, out of her chest.

Despite their own solemn oaths, the Prime Deities were reluctant to agree to this madness, not willing to give up their own being to save their creation. Only one stepped forth without hesitation: Tyrea, mother of dreams. She forsook her own divinity to forge the sword, which became known simply as Last Hope, and in a final, disastrous assault, the Order plunged the blade deep into the Devourer’s heart, shattering the jewel. The attack did not kill Leanor, but reverted her back into her original form, weakened and corrupted. The Prime Deities banished her and all of her followers to a place beyond the stars called the Far Realm - the very plane they left behind to aid their first children.

The Age of Bravery finally ended. But the world paid a terrible price: The shattered islands could never be restored to their former state, and the Prime Deities were weakened so much that they began fading back into the Astral Plane yet again. Ashamed by the sacrifice of Tyrea, they decided that it was time to grant the mortals the power to rule by themselves. 

So, they gave the last sparks of their dwindling divinity to the members of the Order of Last Hope, elevating them to godhood, while they themselves faded back into the cosmic chaos - this time for forever.

The age of the new gods began.

[hergrim]

English Infantry Recruitment and Equipment c. 1070-1140

This was originally posted in reply to this question on /r/askhistorians. I've decides to start reposting some of my old answers here as a bit of an archive, and this will be the start.

Introduction

The last couple of decades of the 11th century and the start of the 12th century are rather interesting in terms of recruitment from the peasantry. While the Normans had conquered England and co-opted a significant part of the pre-existing Anglo-Saxon military system, there was still quite a strong tradition of military service among the peasantry until the reign of Henry I. In fact, in many ways it was the English infantry who enabled the early Anglo-Norman kings to maintain such a high level of centralised power in comparison to other kingdoms at the time.

However, as interesting as the subject is, I should stress here and now that we don't have enough information to be entirely certain on how everything was structured. Between various charters and chroniclers we can make out a reasonable amount about recruitment, and various artworks from the period provide some information about equipment, but there is still a lot we don't know and which will be speculative in nature.

Recruitment

The first thing you, as a peasant in England around 1100 AD, would think if a baron told you he was raising an army on behalf of the king would probably be something along the lines of "Christ's teeth, you traitorous French bastard, do you really think you're going to get away with this?". The reason for this is that barons in medieval England had no right to raise armies. While they owed their own service and the service of a number of knights for a set period (possibly originally 60 days, later modified to 40, although with a number of variants on this theme), the right to raise an army - and the peasantry more specifically - belonged to the king alone, and for William II Rufus and Henry I, the English peasantry formed the backbone of their armies against baronial revolt in England and ultimately allowed them to consolidate power and keep England as a relatively centralised state.

This doesn't mean that the barons couldn't raise infantry from their own holdings, since personal relationships and patronage were key to military service in the Middle Ages and there would doubtless have been some freemen who were tenants or owned land in one of their villages who would see some advantage in serving their lord, would be willing to serve for pay or might have felt obligated to serve because they had a position in the baron's household or village (the village bailiff, for example), but it is important to keep in mind that these weren't men they could legal call up for service.

Generally speaking, the process of recruitment appears to have been that the king would send out a summons to arms to the greater magnates (earls, the more powerful barons and powerful churchmen) and to the county sheriffs. The country sheriffs, acting as the king's agents, would then issue a summons to the lesser barons and knights, and also summon those peasants liable for military service. There are some variations to this process, especially on the Welsh Marches, where the earls had a large degree of military independence, but it would be fair to say that most armies were summoned by either sheriffs, who were the agents of Royal power, or the most important personages of the area, with whom the king either had a significant personal relationship, needed to provide them with respect or where they had been given a large degree of control over military matters in their sphere of influence.

The Royal control over the recruitment process, and the fact that free peasants technically owed their ultimate allegiance to the King rather than whichever baron or knight owned their manor, is probably partially responsible for the significant support of the English for William the Conqueror during the earl's rebellion of 1075, their support of William II Rufus during the 1088 aristocratic rebellion and Henry I during Robert Curthose's invasion of 1101 and the rebellion of the Earl of Shrewsbury in 1102. In all these cases, it was the English and lesser knights (milites gregarii) who provided almost all of the royal armies, with the barons and other aristocrats forming the bulk of the rebellious forces. Doubtless an antipathy towards the conquering classes and the possibility of local tyrannies springing up was also a major consideration for those English who served the kings, but the fact that they were legally only bound to serve the king must also have been on their minds.

The royal control was also necessary, since William the Conqueror had deliberately fragmented land holdings when he divided England up so that no baron had too much land close together, most likely to prevent them from dominating any one area. The rich abbey of Peterborough, for example, had its lands spread out over seven separate counties, which would have greatly slowed down the assembling of the army. However, with each county's sheriffs calling up the scattered knights and infantry, the army could be more swiftly assembled.

So who were the Englishmen who fought for the early Anglo-Norman kings? They were, undoubtedly, free men, and this puts something of a limit on who could fight. Much of England's peasantry were, technically, unfree and were bound to their land. Of the rural peasantry recorded in the Domesday Book, around 40% were classed as villani (serfs), who typically held 15 acres or more, with another 30% who were classed as cottagers, who typically held 5 acres or less. Servi (technically slaves, although in some areas they were more like serfs bound to a specific household rather than a specific manor) and miscellaneous categories account for around 15%. Only 15% of the rural population, therefore, was actually free and liable for military service.

However, "free" does not necessarily mean "landholder with comfortable acreage". Just as there were cottagers who held 15 acres, there were free men who held less than most cottagers. Generally speaking, the less densely populated an area was, the more land individuals held, although this was by no means universal - in Middlesex (a fertile area in southern England), for example, almost one third of the villani held between 1 virgate (30 acres) and 2 virgates (60 acres), at a time when 15 acres was enough to sustain a family. Further, at this point in English history the line between "serf" and "free" was still quite fluid, with some free men subject to obligations to their lords (although less onerous than the labour of the serfs), while serfs could attain essentially free status by paying a cash rent. As such it's probable, although by no means certain, that some serfs also served in military endeavors, especially those who were particularly wealthy or lived in border regions. It's also worth noting that, while the disparities in landholding are most apparent in free landholders, they still held 20% of the land despite only making up 15% of the population, so those who held more land than average held a lot of it.

This restricts the pool further. Only those who own enough more land than needed to support themselves in a bad year are going to have the surplus needed to purchase the necessary equipment for fighting. We're fortunate in that we have exceptionally detailed records for the abbey of Peterborough compiled between 1113 and 1135, which not only record the knight-service owed, but also sub-feudal infantry service owed by tenants. Approximately 76 sokemen owed military service to the abbey, and this was only a small portion of the total sokemen on abbey estates. Although we don't know how much land each sokeman owned, the lands belonging to the abbey would suggest a military obligation in Anglo-Saxon times of 70 men and, since the abbey had also over-enoffed knights in what was most likely a policy of ensuring there were reserves in case of injury, old age or minority on some of the knight's fees they owed, the case was likely similar here.

Unfortunately, Peterborough abbey is the only post-Conquest source to provide this level of detail on infantry soldiers, although there are several other charters and references in chronicles that, taken with this, suggest that the practice of keeping some peasants who specifically owed military service was widespread during the late 11th and early 12th centuries. This also tallies with modern views on late Anglo-Saxon military recruitment. Information is less available than with Peterborough Abbey, but Richard Abel's examination of the Anglo-Saxon concept of "bookland" - land which was legally owned by someone so long as they performed military service for the King - has thrown up evidence of two classes of warriors: those who held "bookland" directly from the king, and those who held land from another thegn or lord.

This latter class can be seen as analogous to the sub-feudal warriors of Peterborough abbey. They would have been granted, if not the full amount of land needed to gain the status of a thegn (five hides), then at least a substantial amount of land, in return for their service. The poem The Battle of Maldon, for instance, features a ceorl named Dunhere who appears to be counted among Earl Byrhtnoth's retainers and Ryan Lavelle's compilation of Anglo-Saxon wills in Alfred's Wars show several instances of gifts of land, horses or other military equipment to household men. And, although connected with cavalry service rather than infantry service, Sally Harvey has also shown that 2/3rds of early Anglo-Norman knights held 2 hides of land or less, which doubtless goes a long way to explaining why Anglo-Saxon language sources refer to Norman mounted warriors as cnights (servants) and may well be an adaptation of existing Anglo-Saxon practices.

What this all suggests is that the peasants who were liable for military service around 1100 AD most likely held land specifically in return for military service. It's probable that all free men could be obliged to defend their locality (within a half day's march) and were required to participate in upkeep of roads, bridges and fortifications. While I haven't discussed free men who held large amounts of land freely without owing any military service to a lord, since we don't have any information on them, it's probable that these men still had an obligation to the king and could be called on to serve, based on Anglo-Saxon practices.

Equipment and Training

And here we really enter the realm of speculation. We have almost no information on how peasants who would have served were armed, nor who was technically responsible for this. While Anglo-Saxon wills show an increase in mail shirts as part of the heriot towards the end of the Anglo-Saxon period, the symbolic nature of the heriot (think of it as military death tax) and the very limited number of them we have from thegns, as opposed to bishops and earls, make it difficult to extract much useful information from them. Anglo-Saxon manuscripts are also hard to interpret, as they rarely depict even kings as wearing armour, whereas the Bayeux Tapestry makes no distinction in armour between Norman and Anglo-Saxon warriors.

However, the wills and heriots of late anglo-Saxon magnates do make some mention of horses or weapons being "loaned" to household servants, who most likely served with their lords on campaign. These might not necessarily have been fighting men - there's some evidence that late Anglo-Saxon armies were mounted for speed and so servants might well have been mounted to keep up with the army, and they might also have been armed for self-defence while on campaign. I do think, given that early Anglo-Norman knights were of fairly low status and in some cases were specifically provided with equipment by their lords, at least some of these household servants were equipped as part of the anglo-Saxon lord's fighting retinue, and Dunhere's appearance in The Battle of Maldon alongside thegnly members of the earl's retinue also points in this direction.

It's therefore possible that at least some of the peasants who owed military service would have been equipped by their lords. It's my opinion, though, that most of them would have been required to supply their own weapons and armour. This would have consisted of, at the very least, a shield, spear, helmet and long knife or a sword. The shield, helmet and spear are all present in anglo-Saxon artwork, while a long knife or sword as a sidearm is a requirement in a number of similar contexts, such as the Carolingian Empire and late 10th century Scandinavia. Some may have worn mail, but most likely only the richest or those specifically equipped by their lord.

It's not impossible that some kind of leather or textile body armour was available, but I've been unable to find a reference to either that can be dated with any certainty before 1130. The Gesta Herewardi, which is accepted to have been written between 1109 and 1131 mentions the use of felt tunics impregnated with pitch and "cooked leather" as armour, so if it dates more to 1109 than 1131 either option might have been available to you, but it's not easy to tell how popular such armour was. It's not really until the mid-12th century that we get any hint of either being popular, and textile armour doesn't show up in artwork until the 13th century, so it's more likely that the only armour you'd have would be your shield and helmet.

In terms of training, you probably don't have much, although we lack enough information to be sure. The Battle of Maldon has Earl Byrhtnoth showing the fyrd how to properly hold their shields, and Henry I showed his infantry the best way to fight against cavalry in 1101, so the general assumption is that training even for members of the fyrd was non-existent. Without more information I can't contradict this, although it's possible that those living in towns and making up the town militia trained to some extent; the London militia trained every Sunday in the mid-12th century, but we don't know if this was common practice or when the training was first introduced.

TL:DR

If you're a peasant in England around 1100 AD and you're going off to war, it's most likely that you're called up by the local sheriff because you own more land than most freemen in exchange of military service. You're unlikely to be protected by anything other than a helmet and shield, which you have had to purchase yourself, and the only training you're likely to get is a crash course by whoever is in charge shortly before the battle.

Bibliography

Alfred's Wars, by Ryan Lavelle

Military Obligation in Medieval England, by Michael Powicke

The Military Organisation of Norman England, by C. Warren Hollister

England Under Norman and Angevin Kings, by Robert Bartlett

Warfare Under the Anglo-Norman Kings, 1066-1135, by Stephen Morillo

"The Knights of Peterborough and the Anglo-Norman Fyrd", by C. Warren Hollister, The English Historical Review, Vol. 77, No. 304 (Jul., 1962), pp. 417-436

"Bookland and Fyrd Service in Late Saxon england", by Richard Abels, in The Battle of Hastings, ed. Stephen Morillo, p57-78

Medieval England: Rural society and Economic Change 1086-1348, by Edward Miller and John Hatcher

"The Knight and the Knight's Fee", by Sally Harvey, Past & Present, Volume 49, Issue 1, November 1970, Pages 3–43

[dahvangogh]

Read this terrific and amazing threat on Twitter about Daenerys, her character both in the show/books, and thought it would be good to post it here on Tumblr after this past episodes. 

All credit due to @ terrible_help, so please go there and RT and like it because it is a very well thought and explained one.

I really need to talk about a scene from last night's episode of Game of Thrones. This is one of the most shocking pieces of dialogue that the show has ever offered up. I'm talking about Dany's willingnes to commit genocide:

I feel I need to preface this thread by saying that I think Dany is probably the best character on GoT. She's not my favourite, but very few of the others are as beautifully realised as she is. The last two seasons have not changed that view. They have just reinforced it.

She's pretty unique in all the fiction I've read, and I think she'll be considered GRRM's greatest achievement long after he's gone. Not because she's the hero of the tale but precisely because she isn't. Dany's story has always been destined for a great tragedy.

There has always been the foreboding feeling that her motivations for wanting the iron throne never quite made sense, but for a long time that worry was secondary to her own survival; something that didn't need to be addressed while assassins and kings were trying to kill her.

We need to address it now, however. Part of the reason we tended to overlook the darker implication of her ambition was because she was forced rise up against her enemies just to survive, but at some point you need to examine the choices and the allies you've made along the way.

Was there really ever any justification for setting the dothraki, a culture of enslavers who acknowledge only power, and rape and pillage their way across the world, onto the path to Westeros just to take the throne?

There's a scene early on in the books where she sees the dothraki raping a young woman whose family they have just murdered, and she silently thinks to herself through tears that this is the cost of war. And she accepts it.

Was there ever a throne to rightfully take back, considering her father tried to burn the country alive before being cast down, or that her ancestors conquered the continent and forged the throne to force the seven kingdoms into servitude?

Dany doesn't know these facts because of Viserys's lies, but she learns them during her journey, and still she persists. The irony is that she had everything in Meereen. She had a people, a man who loved her, a purpose that was purer than her reasons for conquering Westeros.

Freeing slaves is easy when you have the power to do so, but in Westeros her family were the masters who rode in on their winged warheads and burned people with impunity until they submitted. Invisible chains are still chains.

Her birthright is no longer valid on account of her father being replaced, and evils committed against innocent children in her family do not justify other evils committed in the name of taking back a throne that is nothing but a tool of oppression.

If A Song of Ice and Fire is a reference work to Lord of the Rings (and it is) then the throne itself is the ring. It's the absolute power that corrupts absolutely. It's the wheel Aegon built, which Dany once claimed she wanted to break but now wants to put back up on its axis.

Her comment was taken by Tyrion as a desire to build a better world, but it must be seen by the viewers in light of Dany's motivation to grab and hold power. And it is increasingly clear now that she meant to ensure no one else will ever be powerful enough to rise up against her.

This is why Jon's parentage has been saved for a final confrontation: it's not because he has a better claim on account of being ahead in the line of succession to a cast down king. It's because it invalidates Dany's pretext for wanting to rule. This season finally unmasked her.

Without it she is a conqueror who wants to grab power because she can. She prides herself on ending slavery, but her family enslaved Westeros for centuries. You can't on one hand be the breaker of chains and on the other force people into submission under threat of death.

This is something Cersei, Stannis, Tywin and Roose Bolton would also have done. But they are antagonists in this story precisely because of their willingness to view human lives as expendable in their quest for power and validation.

… Which brings us back to the original post. Dany was ready to level King's Landing long before Missandei got beheaded. The conversation between her and her advisors on a ship headed for King's Landing, towards the end of 8x04, makes that abundantly clear:

(pic above, that dialogue of ep. 4)

She's literally saying: ”Let's offer Cersei a deal she'll obviously never take just so people know it's her fault when I slaughter them by the thousands.” There is no other way to interpret that comment, and the silence of her advisors speaks volumes. They're horrified.

Dany is not turning into her father. She's turning into something different, beyond madness. She believes herself to be righteous because she answers to no one else but herself, and everything she does is demanded by destiny. The hubris of her character has come full circle.

Tyranny can't be ended through more tyranny. A better world can't be built through conquest, it just can't. And it can't be built by someone who thinks that genocide is a small price that others should pay in order for her to acquire what she perceives as rightfully being hers.

A friend commented that this is a real life parallel to how people are stanning and cheering on military acts of utter horror, and it sums up one of the most important lessons of aSoIaF. This is not a story about restoring the lineage of kings.

Evil is a banal act by nature, but the path leading up to committing it is complicated. People aren't born wanting to murder children. They don't set out to kill or maim or to dole out biblical justice everywhere they see fit.

Dany once wanted a life in peace and it was denied her by people who feared what she could become instead of having compassion for what she was. They forced her out on a journey that made her see the world in terms of sheep and dragons.

And if a better world will ever be built, this worldview will have to be discarded. It's not the solution to the plight of Westeros. It's very much a part of the problem.

– by Carl from Twitter. (https://twitter.com/terrible_help/status/1125442845010219016)