#* ── TEAR DOWN THE HARPY. / MEEREENESE QUEEN.

[aboveallarescuer]

Daenerys Targaryen's tropes - Upbringing Makes the Hero

"Heroes are made, not born" is a common and unstated theme in a lot of works. Though a good many heroic origins proudly trot out heroes who have been raised in The Spartan Way and can look Death in the eye-sockets without blinking before leaving their Tibetan monastery home, quite a few grew up Farm Boys who never picked up anything sharper than a hoe, though those can be quite a handful.

In fact, heroes with a down to earth upbringing tend to have a unique advantage over the more badass and epic ones: they're more centered. While they won't be saints, they'll have a strong enough moral compass to navigate most moral dilemmas, resist The Dark Side, and even refute Hannibal Lectures that more emotionally fragile heroes struggle with. If they gain super powers, they won't forget "the little people" and turn into a Smug Super with delusions of grandeur. Though they didn't gain the crime-fighting prowess of a lifetime of Charles Atlas training, or the street-savvy of an orphan with a Dark and Troubled Past, they also didn't sacrifice basic skills or their social life.

Daenerys's background

A princess, Dany thought. She had forgotten what that was like. Perhaps she had never really known. (AGOT Daenerys I)

~

After Ser Willem had died, the servants had stolen what little money they had left, and soon after they had been put out of the big house. Dany had cried when the red door closed behind them forever.

They had wandered since then, from Braavos to Myr, from Myr to Tyrosh, and on to Qohor and Volantis and Lys, never staying long in any one place. Her brother would not allow it. The Usurper’s hired knives were close behind them, he insisted, though Dany had never seen one.

At first the magisters and archons and merchant princes were pleased to welcome the last Targaryens to their homes and tables, but as the years passed and the Usurper continued to sit upon the Iron Throne, doors closed and their lives grew meaner. Years past they had been forced to sell their last few treasures, and now even the coin they had gotten from Mother’s crown had gone. In the alleys and wine sinks of Pentos, they called her brother “the beggar king.” Dany did not want to know what they called her. (AGOT Daenerys I)

~

“The Milk Men shun him. Khaleesi, do you see the girl in the felt hat? There, behind the fat priest. She is a—”

“—cutpurse,” finished Dany. She was no pampered lady, blind to such things. She had seen cutpurses aplenty in the streets of the Free Cities, during the years she’d spent with her brother, running from the Usurper’s hired knives. (ACOK Daenerys III)

~

“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.”

“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?” (ASOS Daenerys II)

Key examples of Daenerys's mindset and actions as queen that reflect her past experiences

Death followed death. Weak children, wrinkled old women, the sick and the stupid and the heedless, the cruel land claimed them all. Doreah grew gaunt and hollow-eyed, and her soft golden hair turned brittle as straw.

Dany hungered and thirsted with the rest of them. (ACOK Daenerys I)

~

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

“Some kings make themselves. Robert did.”


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

~

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

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

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

~

When she looked over one shoulder, there it stood, the afternoon sun blazing off the bronze harpy atop the Great Pyramid. Inside Meereen the slavers would soon be reclining in their fringed tokars to feast on lamb and olives, unborn puppies, honeyed dormice and other such delicacies, whilst outside her children went hungry. A sudden wild anger filled her. I will bring you down, she swore. (ASOS Daenerys V)

~

Her audience chamber was on the level below, an echoing high-ceilinged room with walls of purple marble. It was a chilly place for all its grandeur. There had been a throne there, a fantastic thing of carved and gilded wood in the shape of a savage harpy. She had taken one long look and commanded it be broken up for firewood. “I will not sit in the harpy’s lap,” she told them. Instead she sat upon a simple ebony bench. It served, though she had heard the Meereenese muttering that it did not befit a queen. (ASOS Daenerys VI)

~

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

~

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

~

Her freedmen were represented by the captains of the three companies she had formed—Mollono Yos Dob of the Stalwart Shields, Symon Stripeback of the Free Brothers, Marselen of the Mother’s Men. Reznak mo Reznak hovered at the queen’s elbow, and Strong Belwas stood behind her with his huge arms crossed. Dany would not lack for counsel. (ADWD Daenerys III)

~

When you smashed the slave trade, the blow was felt from Westeros to Asshai. Qarth depends upon its slaves. So too Tolos, New Ghis, Lys, Tyrosh, Volantis … the list is long, my queen.”

“Let them come. In me they shall find a sterner foe than Cleon. I would sooner perish fighting than return my children to bondage.” (ADWD Daenerys IV)

~

“Lingering here will never bring it any closer. The sooner we take our leave of this place—”

“I know. I do.” Dany did not know how to make him see. She wanted Westeros as much as he did, but first she must heal Meereen. (ADWD Daenerys IV)

~

Yesterday a wagon had been overturned and two of her soldiers killed, so today the queen had determined that she would bring the food herself. Every one of her advisors had argued fervently against it, from Reznak and the Shavepate to Ser Barristan, but Daenerys would not be moved. “I will not turn away from them,” she said stubbornly. “A queen must know the sufferings of her people.” (ADWD Daenerys VI)

[snowstcrm]

LONG MAY SHE REIGN - 02

Summary: Daenerys had always set her eyes on the Iron Throne when she had been destined for something far greater from the start. With a second chance at life, the Targaryen queen decides to abandon Westeros and sets her focus on the origins of her ancestors. She woke dragons from stone and would raise an empire from ancient ruins.

Chapter warnings: uncomfortable religious ramblings

01 - 02 - 03

--> link to ao3

The free city of Volantis looked beautiful from above with the sun beginning to set, far different from the cities in Westeros and much more familiar with what she had known her entire life. The air was hot and humid which was such a stark contrast to the cold, dry climate she had experienced during her weeks in the north. She breathed it in, her lungs coming alive and for the first time in many weeks she was able to truly feel an ounce of happiness. Daenerys couldn’t even be bothered with the sweat that was building up beneath the furs she wore, though she also couldn’t wait to adorn lighter clothing. It was something she had taken for granted before leaving Essos. She missed the heat now.

She circled above the massive city harbour, already hearing the distant yells and shouts from sailors below. Daenerys needed to gather her strength and make the Volantenes, especially the nobles, know who she was and know that their time was limited. She did not forget that Volantis was one of the conspirators that supported the Sons of Harpy, nor did she forget that there are five slaves for every free man in the city. While she may have many supporters in the form of religious servants and the enslaved, the powerful masters in this city would want her dead-- just like Meereen. Just like everywhere else.

The masters would be dealt with in due process, however for the time being she was in search of the temple of R’hllor. Though she wasn’t too familiar with the religion itself, years ago she had read and knew of its roots in Volantis when she studied the history of the city.  

Drogon roared before swooping lower, flying across the city to announce Daenerys’ presence in a display of power. As she approached the east end, a massive wall of dragonglass stood in her way as a means to protect the oldest part of Volantis, though it didn’t serve as much of a barrier when Drogon shot upwards and over to the other side.

A temple that rivalled the size of the Meereenese pyramids came into view, massive pillars and domes and buttresses displaying incredible design. At the tip of the temple was a large fire burning with ferocity, making it obvious to whom this site was dedicated to. There was a crowd of thousands gathered at the front of the building and she heard the screams mixing with shouts of awe as she landed Drogon on the steps leading up to the temple. Her eyes scanned the crowd, watching as even those that had been frightened began yelling and cheering in the city’s Valyrian dialect. This was… a surprising yet reassuring reaction. A reminder. Westeros may not want or need her, but there were many that were desperate for a change in their circumstances. Remember your roots. Remember why you always did what you did. When she was a child she had been yearning for a change, to be freed from her chains, and she had wanted to give that freedom to everyone else that sought it too.

“Volantene!” A voice shouted above the rest and Daenerys looked over her shoulder towards a man standing at the top of the steps, his face covered in tattooed flames. He must have been preaching before her arrival. “The Lord has finally led Azor Ahai reborn to us! Daenerys Stormborn, the champion!” Flames leapt from his fingers as he roared, and she was almost taken aback by his display of magic. “Her fire will be the one to drive the darkness out of this world!”

Cheers and yells were certainly not the way she had been expecting to be welcomed, but it was something that she needed though she dare not admit it. This was what it had always been about. She wanted to give people hope. She wanted to help. It had been an earnest and good desire before it became twisted by grief.

The evening had turned into night by the time Daenerys said her farewells to the Volantenes gathered outside and followed the high priest through the large temple doors for a more private conversation. As they entered her eyes were greeted with massive pits and golden stands, the orange light of their fires danced across looming statues and illuminated ancient artwork on the walls.

She almost got lost in looking at the interior of the temple, but she finally looked at the man and said, “Your name was Benerro correct?” She spoke in High Valyrian and noticed that the priest could alternate between the local dialect and the old form when needed.

“It is, your Grace.” The tall, spindly man had an almost off-putting presence, his appearance gaunt. “I am a high priest of R’hllor. I first saw your visage in the flames many moons ago. You are his chosen champion, the one that will push back the darkness.”

“The darkness was defeated-- I thought it was, at least. But I saw… things. Visions. I don’t know what to think of this talk anymore.” She replied, brows furrowing as she glanced over at a large fire contained in a metal pit in the center of the open hall. “Your god brought me back to rebuild Valyria, to have magic and dragons return to the forefront of the world-- or so I was told by the priestess Kinvara. I know that I can do it, but I’m not sure that I should. If it’s right. If I’m the one that should do it.”

He walked over to the burning fire she had been starting at, watching the flames as if gathering information while he spoke, "You were travelling down a path that might destroy the world, but you were also the one who helped saved it. You may think yourself a monster, but the world isn’t changed through soft-spoken words and caresses. That is the reality, and many innocents are unfortunate enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. We already knew that non-believers would be cleansed by the thousands.”

She felt the sting of tears threatening to fall from her eyes but she willed them not to. How could he be so indifferent? Is this how she had sounded to Jon? “It was wrong.” Her voice had a slight shake, “What I did.”

“It is also reality.” He repeated the sentiment. “You cleansed the land of its immorality just as the mountains cleansed Old Valyria. Though I believe it was already written in stone, I see that it eats away at your spirit and I pray that you find peace with it. My words may seem insensitive to you but I simply see things as small parts of a grander destiny for us all. What you did brought you here, and that’s all that matters.” There was a change in his tone when he finally said, “There will always be creatures that lurk in the darkness. Fire made flesh is the only thing that can keep them at bay. That’s why you are alive today."

A silence hung over them as Daenerys stared at the side of his face. For a moment she could understand why Jon chose to do what he did, and the thought crushed her already scarred heart. She could not bring herself to trust this man, but he was her best ally for the time being. Her face solidified, void of vulnerability as she replied, "If I am to rebuild Valyria I will need many hands."

"The servants of the Lord of Light will support your cause, as will a large portion of the slaves in Volantis if given the option. They've been waiting to see you in the flesh for years. Stories of your liberating have travelled across the Free Cities and the triarchs of Volantis have been fearing their fall ever since. They’ve even tried to destroy the temple because we preach in support of you." He spoke with almost a scoff.

Her focus stayed on the flames, beginning to see visions in them. Vague images of mountains crumbling and falling away, fire raining from the skies, and clear waters becoming dark and smoking. "I cannot promise a peaceful life here in Volantis if they revolt and kill their masters. Revolution always threatens destabilization. I learned it in Meereen and the other cities. What I can promise though, is that every slave of this city has a home in Valyria if they so desire it. Whoever kills their master can find sanctuary under the dragon and never be harmed again. The hands that build Valyria will be those of free men."

He watched her with a look she couldn’t quite decipher. It was almost a look of relief, as if he had been waiting for this moment for ages. “The triarchs of Volantis will fall. Every night I’ve preached to thousands that have been burning for a change but have held back over the fear of being left stranded once on the other side. You’ve given them a choice now, and many will take it. His fire will cleanse this city like it did the others.”

She finally turned away from the flames, looking over at Benerro, “There’s a problem though isn’t there. Are the servants of this temple not bought as slaves or taken in as offerings? I don’t understand why you so strongly support my cause when your temple ranks will fall apart as well.”

"They are. As am I.” He gave a small gesture to the tattoos covering his face. “There were many that were bought to serve the temple, and many that willingly came and sought refuge in these walls. Our temple does not condone slavery, but we have had to speak the language that the city and its people understand. We’ve bought many servants, but they are not slaves to any living man. The lord’s servants have all been waiting for the chance to overthrow the triarchs. If any of the high priests were slave masters we would have never supported you."

Daenerys had always been uncompromising with slavery so she could not fathom his approach. There were thousands in this city that loved and believed in this man though, so perhaps she could be willing to understand his methods. Not everyone had dragons or an army large enough to take a city through force alone. "It doesn't matter the circumstances. Every single man, woman, and child will be free in Volantis, including the temple’s servants. You will give them the option to leave their servitude and allow them to take it without any retribution."

"As his champion wishes." He chuckled. “I promise you with the lord as my witness. I am on your side. Volantis will join the Bay of Dragons and adopt its policies.”

For now she could only trust in his word. She still held a healthy skepticism for the man, but he also gave her enough reason to believe in his motivations. She nodded in understanding before reaching her hand out, offering it to seal their alliance, “May it be done with fire and blood if necessary.”

He nodded, his hand meeting hers halfway, “Fire and blood.”

She was offered a place to rest in the temple that night but opted to stay with Drogon outside of the city. She changed into clothes that were offered to her however, ridding herself of the winter furs unfitting for Essos while keeping her ever present riding pants and boots. Before leaving the temple she had put on a deep red gown with billowing sleeves, cuts in the thighs, and a deep scoop neck. A large sash of the same colour was wrapped from her waist up to her shoulders and served as a head-covering.

Valyria was not too far off from here and she was already preparing herself for the task ahead of her. Like many others she had heard awful stories of what lurked in the ruins of Valyria. She heard of living shadows, strange creatures, bubbling waters, red skies, and stone men. Everything was telling her that the land would be revived and built anew-- the priests, the flames--  so she had the confidence that it would come to pass. It was just a matter of how… Was the heart of winter that Kinvara spoke of enough? Would the red priests and priestesses be enough to clean and control whatever magic that had been free to roam the abandoned ruins? She could only keep pushing forward and then deal with any barriers in her way once she reached them.

The rebirth of dragons… She dreamed wistfully. There was nothing that could every replace Viserion and Rhaegal, but to bring new dragons into the world… Whenever she thought of it her heart was set ablaze with bright fires. They called to her blood.

Benerro wasted no time in implementing his plan. He sent hundreds of servants out into the night to send whispers across the city, letting them know that Daenerys Stormborn that had conquered and freed the Bay of Dragons from its masters has come for the triarchs of Volantis next with the words of fire and blood. By early morning the streets were red and fires were set to ancient buildings belonging to the Old Blood. The Fiery Hand of the temple took up arms against any city guards that opposed the rebellion and were joined by men wielding knives, stones, and anything else they could get their hands on. The swarm was unstoppable and Daenerys could only watch from her vantage point in silent wonderment. The city had been a massive pyre, unlit and waiting. All that was needed was a spark that would set it blazing. The black shadow that had flown over the city the day prior was the people’s hope and the death omen of any unyielding masters.

The smoke had created a small overcast by midday. Daenerys drifted out of her light sleep and took the sight in. The majority of the city was left untouched, but most, if not all the larger buildings had been burned down and their ashes covered everything around them in white. It was perhaps the first time any of the citizens had seen anything akin to snow. Queen of the Ashes, Daenerys scorned. If I will be remembered as Queen of the Ashes, then let it be like this.

She stood up and mounted Drogon, flying down over the city and circling it as liberated men cheered at the triumphant roars of the dragon. During her flight she noticed that the temple had been left standing as one of the only ancient buildings unscathed by the rebellion. She circled the city twice to commemorate the people’s victory before heading towards the bay and off towards Valyria.

Come. Build a new world with me. Join me if you wish.

[fullcfterrors]

continued from HERE with @wclfcrown.

                      the kiss had not been desperate or urgent, or even aggressive. at first, it had been soft and delicate … a moment of NEED tearing at her mind as she searched for the nearest thing that could make her feel wholesome. the situation in meereen had grown dire as of late. drogon was off flying the world, big black wings that weren’t half as threatening as balerion the dread’s, still terrifying the people of essos. all whilst her other two children remained underground; chains around their neck and locked in a tomb where they could not harm anybody. daenerys stormborn could feel it. she could feel the power that was slipping from her hands and the faith that essos had grown for her, was dissipating into the meereenese air. the masters were trying harder than ever to persuade the people to not listen to this ‘foreign queen’ but the mother of dragons knew that she was going to have to do something quick. peace had always been her way … serenity. the death of innocents was not what she wanted in this city she had conquered but she was running out of options. It would only be a matter of time before the sons of the harpy struck harder, attempting to murder one of her children or herself. 

she understood robb’s own paranoia. how could she not? he had been a victim to a series of treacherous actions –– his father killed by lannister’s, much like her own. he had been left for dead –– in the very similar way that she was smuggled from her home as a child as men in red capes came searching for her and her brother. his men had betrayed him –– similarly to how her khalasaar disappeared with the news of drogo’s death. and she hardly even knew the meaning of the word home anymore … the one place that ever reached close the house in which she lived with the big red door and the lemon tree outside her bedroom window. they barely even recognised it but daenerys had robb had more parallels than they knew of, which was why they had found a solace in one another in that lust fuelled moment, which was starving the silver haired queen even more as her lips grew more wanting.

robb was somebody that she trusted and in their friendship, they had spoken of many things. daenerys wanted to be able to give him back everything that he had lost, knowing that she was on a quest of her own to take back what was rightfully hers too. northern independence was something that viserys would have never agreed too but she had seen the look in robb’s eyes. she had seen just how much his home meant to him and after speaking with barristan, it seemed only right to grant him his HOME back as a kingdom –– but only when her war had been won. 

digits had found themselves entangled in auburn ringlets, wispy eyes fluttering to a close as the air she breathed was stolen from her lungs. her spare hand clutched desperately onto his leathers, head tilting to the side in an attempt to make it easier for him to reach what ever destination he desired and before she knew it –– her back was pressed to the wooden posts of her bedframe, the hand in which busied itself with his hair still running through his roots whilst the other fumbled behind her head for something else to grip onto. as she grew lost in the moment, the way in which his palms travelled as well as his jawline, daenerys found herself fumbling for the bed instead –– allowing herself to perch on the edge as one hand kept her supported, the other tightening its grip on the back of his head. they understood each other … they had bonded, they had that mutual attraction. and for a moment, it seemed to make sense that she was here with somebody other than daario –– who seemed to be at the forefront of robb’s mind too. how their competition was amusing, though it seemed as though the young wolf had now triumphed. she had always been curious about robb, but she had never acted on it. 

a light chuckle left her lips, wishing not to speak of daario but she knew that it must have fuelled his ego to know that even though she found herself intertwined at night times with daario –– they were both here now, together. eyes weakly opened gazing down upon him, lower lip catching itself between two perfect rows of petals as his lips and fingertips dug themselves into her milky complexion; marks of red and purple already beginning to form and swell with each inch harder his fingers pressed into her thighs. “daario is not happy about many things. as for how you compare, let me tell you one thing, robb stark. you are not yet a kin ––“ but before she could finish her words, before she could tear down his ego anymore than she would have liked, her words were cut off by a lustful whimper. her sob spilled into the air as her head dropped back ever so slightly, allowing him to tug away at the dress that clung to her waist even more, as though it was a hindrance –– getting in his way. neither of them had time to undress, nor had they thought to even pull one another’s clothes off, all she knew was that they had both grown too lost in the moment between them to care about clothing or the fact that her advisors could be stood outside of her chamber doors as they spoke. her vocal chords played a symphony; different pitches escaping from her mouth as robb’s mouth continued to distract her from all of the TERRORS that she faced; like the dragonstone shore lapping at the castle it surrounded.

[poorquentyn]

Quick follow-up to the lively and interesting discussion of the Meereenese Knot I had with Adam Feldman over at r/asoiaf the other day. For me, this is the key passage in terms of what’s driving the slavers and what they’re trying to accomplish in ADWD:

“This arrogant child has taken it upon herself to smash the slave trade, but that traffic was never confined to Slaver’s Bay. It was part of the sea of trade that spanned the world, and the dragon queen has clouded the water. Behind the Black Wall, lords of ancient blood sleep poorly, listening as their kitchen slaves sharpen their long knives. Slaves grow our food, clean our streets, teach our young. They guard our walls, row our galleys, fight our battles. And now when they look east, they see this young queen shining from afar, this breaker of chains. The Old Blood cannot suffer that.”

This passage demonstrates why Dany staying in Astapor wouldn’t actually have been a practical solution. She wouldn’t have had the time, energy, resources, or political capital to devote to making internal reforms in the city stick, because she would’ve immediately been under siege by the exact same coalition she faced in ADWD, with the only difference being that the Meereenese nobles would’ve been on the outside instead of the inside. As Qavo says, Dany did not go to war against one city, or even three cities. She went to war against the political economy of half a continent. It would be one thing if she’d come to Astapor purely as a conqueror, tearing down the existing regime but ensuring that The Spice Must Flow afterwards. That’s a change that the Masters elsewhere might’ve been able to live with. But “dracarys” was specifically a blow against the legitimacy and existence of the slavery system, and as Qavo argues, that is something that the slaver class (in Volantis, Qarth, and even the Dothraki Sea as well as Slaver’s Bay) simply cannot abide. So no matter where Dany set up shop within that system after striking that initial blow, this would’ve happened: 

Each morning, from her western ramparts, the queen would count the sails on Slaver’s Bay.

The argument that she should’ve stayed in Astapor and planted her metaphorical trees there hinges on the idea that Astapor is a politically isolated polity and that the war only went widescreen when Dany moved on to Yunkai and Meereen, and virtually the entire Essosi half of ADWD demonstrates that this is not so. So for me, the question becomes: once Dany commits to “dracarys,” once she starts that war, how do you create the best possible outcome? And I think the answer is that you cannot leave the Masters in power. You don’t have to necessarily kill all of them, but you have to strip them of resources and redistribute them to the freedmen, because we saw what happened when she didn’t: the Yunkai’i went out and secured a bunch of allies to help them destroy Astapor and besiege Meereen. They then had the leverage to roll Dany’s reforms back and install a Son of the Harpy as her consort. Meanwhile, you’ve got freedmen begging Dany to allow them to sell themselves back into slavery. Why is that? Because she didn’t lay the groundwork for any other kind of economic opportunity, and there’s only one way to do that in the short term: take the Masters’ stuff, all of it, not just what an individual can carry, and redistribute the ever-loving shit out of it. Not only would that prevent the insurgency from gaining any momentum, it would provide a solid foundation for the freedmen to build on Dany’s crusade.

I don’t think you can fully understand the war going on in Essos without understanding that, as Qavo’s monologue demonstrates, what the slavers fear most, even more than the dragons, is their own slaves. After all, if they really believed that peace was the pearl beyond price and that the horrors of war should be avoided above all, why’d they burn Astapor to the ground instead of occupying it once more? They did that for the same reason the Good Masters showed the Plaza of Punishment to new slaves and the Old Blood displays the tortured mutilated bodies of rebellious slaves on the Long Bridge: as a demonstration of power designed to pre-empt slave revolts via terror. This is such a pressing political and cultural need that they were willing to sacrifice the Red City rather than retake it. For the Old Blood and their allies to sleep easily at night, the revolution must be rolled back, and so that’s why I don’t take the Green Grace seriously when she talks about peace. Like I’ve said before, her ethos is the same as Roose Bolton’s: the undisturbed exploitation of “a peaceful land, a quiet people.” 

[toashcs-blog]

for   @fllnstar   who   liked   this  !

THE DRAGON QUEEN  they  called  her,  and  so  much  more,  strings  of  titles,  oceans  of  whispers  following  her  every  step.  but  she  was  barely  a  woman,  a  child  truly,  with  her  SILVER  hair  brushing  her  shoulders  and  VIOLET EYES SMILING  like  once  Ashara’s  own  had  done. 

SHE COULD HAVE BEEN ASHARA’S OWN DAUGHTER.  not  Dany’s  words,  but  those  of  her  FAITHFUL KNIGHT,  Ser  Barristan.  luckily,  the  man  was  not  at  her  side  that  day,  much  to  his  protest.  but  she  thought  perhaps  he  need  some  respite.  Dany  herself  did  not  know  any  woman  named  ASHARA DAYNE.  though  she  had  heard  A TRAGIC STORY,  but  she  would  never  be  able  to  link  these  things.  instead,  she  rests  an  arm  across  her  lap  and  inclines  forwards. 

‘    i  understand  you  are  a  Septa,  My  Lady.  i  do  my  best  to  bask  in  the  FAITH OF MY HOMELAND,  but  i  must  confess  to  having  met  no  Septons  or  Septas  to  learn  from.    ‘      and  she  thought  it  best  to  LEAVE OUT  the  part  about  THE GREAT STALLION.