#KHALEESI OF THE GREAT GRASS SEA [ . . . ] arc.

[deaneyrs]

@dariaryz : there is no hope to be found in the wasteland, only heat and thirst and death. her children cling to her, too small to carry the burden of the khalasar upon the backs. her people do not cry for water, but fall one by one, like flies, to their knees. still they press onward.

night comes, quick and cold. and the dothraki camp between an outcropping and the open land. the young girl orders her half of her bloodriders to keep moving and to bring back news of shelter. her people do not burn fires, but huddle close for warmth and pray to the moon for salvation.

dany leaves them in the darkness, sandaled feet carrying her further into the bleak and endless red. drogon bays from his perch upon her shoulder, the first sound she has heard him make in days. viserion and rhaegal coo. alone as she is, the little queen would weep if any tears would come. but they do not. instead, she is left with anger and the tail of a comet to guide her forward. her eyes drift across the plains, searching in her delirium for any sign of life, when they catch sight of someone. someone far away.

" anha zhilak yeraan, anha vekha? " her voice is hoarse, tongue stumbling over the harsh syllables of her husband's tongue. she continues forward, stumbling, reaching. her dragons crow. " visērȳs? emagon ao māzigon syt nyke rȳ mōrī? "

[slytarg]

I think I've written about it before but I was just thinking about how Daenerys represents fire🔥and Jon represents water💧but that she has a strong connection to both.

She was born during a lightning storm. It was on an island so surrounded on all sides by ocean. It was in a castle near a volcano, basically a river of liquid fire. She spent her first weeks on a ship sailing from Westeros to Essos. We met her as she stared silently at the sea. She loves ships. One of her first successes as a Khaleesi was procuring a ship. She birthed & hatched dragons. She's Mother of Dragons. She can't be burned by hot coils, boiling water, fire, or dragonsfire. She traveled the Red Waste desert. Dothraki land is called the Great Grass Sea. A lot of her arc was on the coast (King's Landing, Dragonstone, Pentos, Qarth, Slavers Bay). Qarth & Slavers Bay are in desert climates. She has the looks and some of the fire power of Old Valyria, which was coastal, had 14 volcanoes, and fire magic practioners.

Please add Jon + fire because I can't think of anything other than being Targaryen, born in Dorne, and resurrected by a red priestess.

[makeste]

crust went out like a proper hero; dying so someone else didn't, standing his ground knowing it was gonna get him killed, and trying to reassure someone with his very last act

not unlike how I could see All Might going out. ahhhh but no we’re not gonna think about that. fuck. lol but yeah, if he had to go he went out like a badass.

this is probably the same person lol. sorry I couldn’t answer this more quickly. anyways, this might be true, but on the other hand Ujiko seems to be well-versed in the art of duplicating quirks, so I feel like it’s 50/50 that he figured out some way to do it from the person’s DNA. because there’s only so much genetic material you can extract from a corpse, and all of the High Ends had that one regenerating quirk, just for example. anyway the good news is that Horikoshi overexplains everything so if this is indeed the reason why the bullets haven’t made a reappearance, I’m sure he will get around to telling us the whole story in good time.

listen, something like 90% of all the BnHA fics that I have ever read, thought about writing, or played out in my head while falling asleep have involved the characters getting therapy in some way lol. I’m here for it. I wouldn’t just read that arc, I would print it out and frame it on my wall. unfortunately though, canon U.A. seems to take more of a “what’s therapy?? ah well, back to idly standing by while these children try to light each other on fire” approach. but I’m sure they’re doing their best.

lmao. two completely different takes. honestly I’ve pondered this before myself. 21 just doesn’t divide evenly into team exercises! they’d either have to constantly do three large teams of 7, or 7 teams of 3, or else just always give one team an advantage (or disadvantage) like with the joint training battles (and even then, it was still pretty even because both classes got a turn with Shinsou). so what’s a hero academy with no spare time to draw up new lesson plans to do??

buuuuut, this doesn’t necessarily mean someone has to die though! that’s why god invented slow-burn traitor plots. :D ...and also honestly this might not be a concern that’s exactly at the forefront of everyone’s minds right now though on account of we don’t even know if we’re gonna make it to the next school year.

speaking of!

oh my god yes. BEST JEANIST DIED FOR THIS!! I still can’t quite get over it. these guys really decided the best way to split up was “thirty people fight these useless dollar store Noumus in the hospital lobby while ONE (1) PERSON FIGHTS THE SIX HIGH-ENDS IN THE BASEMENT, WHERE UJIKO, OUR PRIMARY TARGET, RAN OFF TO, AND WHERE TOMURA, OUR OTHER PRIMARY TARGET, ALSO IS.” yes that makes perfect sense. and imagine if the one person hadn’t been Miruko, First of Her Name, The Unburnt, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Queen of the Andals, and Mother of Dragons. we wouldn’t even fucking have a story anymore because he’d be at 100% instead of 75% and everything would just be fucking gone already.

in conclusion Hawks probably has grounds to sue these people, I would say. oh yeah, and Shinsou. he should just sue life in general.

[daenerys-targaryen-moved]

I love your blog and you but I also love sansa and it hurts my heart to see you as such an anti when you yourself are not happy about Dany antis it bums me out to see your contribution to the negativity 😔☹️😔☹️

Yeah, they fucked her character up probably just as much as Daenerys. I recognize that it’s hypocritical of me to blame sansa for her actions whilst forgiving Daenerys for her actions and blaming it on D&D, but I’ve stated before that I’m trying to do better in that aspect, and truly above all else, I recognize that it’s not Sansas fault for anything that happened in the show, it’s D&Ds.

Hating Daenerys and vilifying her for breathing, taking her book quotes out of context and using them to support their dark dany theories is not the same as me calling out Sansa for her dumb behavior and her greediness to be queen so bad that she betrayed her family, but like I said, above all else, I know that show!sansa is not book!sansa, just how show!daenerys is not book!daenerys.

I don’t like nor dislike book!sansa. I don’t sit around here reblogging anti sansa metas, anti sansa gifsets, anti sansa this or anti sansa that. Anti sansa stans / anti sansa isn’t even a popular tag on my blog, to say that I’m a big contributor to negativity towards her is funny because jeheejrjwjejwjrj there are actual anti sansa people out there who dislike her more than me. There are entire blogs out there who fucking dispise her, villify her, want her dead ect, I’m just over here not liking her show counterpart after about s5, but that’s not her fault, that’s D&Ds twisted version of her.

However, I can’t stand the majority of her fans. You have to realize that sansa stans, not all of them ofcourse, but the majority of them from what I’ve encountered, use Sansa as a self-insert and villify / hate Daenerys or Arya or Margaery or Cersei and steal personality traits, arcs, plots, ect and give them to Sansa at the same time.

I have a ton of sansa friends who are lovely, who like sansa for the character she is rather than turning her into another character so she can be Cooler ect, they also don’t villify every other female character who is in 10 mile radius of Sansa because they’re threatened. A very good portion of sansa stans are very very lovely down to earth people who like sansa, Arya AND daenerys for the characters they are! Unfortunately, the ones who hate arya / daenerys are very loud in this fandom.

You also have to realize that I’m just answering asks I get. If an anon wants to shade a j/onsa fic for the author legit changing Sansas entire character and switching her and Aryas characters, then you’re damn right I’m gonna answer it because that’s literally peak sansa stans / j/onsa behavior and I’m 1000% going to call out that behavior because it’s ridiculous. That’s similar to giving Sansa 3 dragons, making her Queen of Meereen, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea and saying ‘lol, look!! it’s a jonsa story!!’ like ma’am what the fuck. That’s not a jonsa story that’s a jonerys story with Sansas name in place of Daenerys.

Anywayysss sorry you feel that way about me! Hope you see where I’m coming from :/

[malereaderinsert]

Wildfire - Part One

Fandom: Game of Thrones.

Pairing: Jon Snow x Male Targaryen Reader

Warnings: I tried to get the most accurate translations for this chapter, but it`s not 100% perfect sorry. Italic words: Dothraki and High Valyrian. Bold Words: Translations.

Aside from that there are no warnings (I know, shocking).

Word Count: + 7.000

Summary: (Y/n) Targaryen, was separated from his twin sister Daenerys on birth for their own safety. He eventually found his way back to Westeros in search of his destiny. But, will his growing affection towards the Stark bastard get in the way? 

Set on the beginning of Season 07, but I plan on writing until the end of Season 08.

Sub: (Y/n) your name. (Y/D/N) your dragon’s name. (Y/D/C) your dragon’s color. There are no options for choosing your eye and hair color cause you know, pure blood Targeryen, so white hair and purple eyes it is.

-

“Dany, you're doing it again.” (Y/n) spoke after taking another bite from the apple in his hand. His sprawled limbs occupied the entire throne, that was rather uncomfortable since it was made of stone.

Daenerys’s only answer was to give her brother an eye roll while resuming her pacing in the throne room.

“Don't speak with your mouth full.” It was (y/n)'s turn to give his twin sister an eye roll that was considerably more dramatic than her's. “You know I can't sit still when I'm nervous brother.”

“I still don't know the motive of your unease, dear sister.” At that the woman stopped pacing and gave her brother an incredulous look. “We both know the white wolf needs our help. The people from the North can be quite headstrong and I heard this Jon “Snow” is rather stubborn too, but he needs something from us and we can use that in our favor.”

(Y/n) rose from the throne and started lazily walking towards Daenerys with a smirk. “And I heard whispers that he's still unmarried and is quite the charming.” The man knew his sister was in need of a distraction. All she could think about was the damned iron throne. She deserved the best and (Y/n) knew more about Jon than he was letting on.

The northerner was indeed headstrong and stubborn, but the way he fiercely defended his family and men was something you didn't see every day. That, certainly, made him a great man and an admirable leader.

“You know I'm not interested in romance.” (Y/n) knew his sister was clinging to her past, to the love that was taken from her and to the son she could never have. And seeing the mournful look in his sister's face made his heart ache.

“I'm sorry. I'm just trying to look out for my little sister, huh?” The male reached out and tucked a stubborn strand of white hair behind his sister's ear while giving her a teasing smile.

“You were born ten seconds before me, ten! There's barely any age difference between us.” Daenerys had an indignant expression on her face but an easy smile graced her lips.

Missandei chose that moment to arrive in the throne room and the attention of the twins were draw to her.

“I apologize for the interruption my king, my queen. Your guest has arrived. Tyrion is greeting him at the beach as we speak.” The interpreter gave a slight bow after delivering the message and narrowed her eyes when (Y/n) started laughing.

“That's great news!” The man begun walking towards the door before being stopped by Daenerys's voice.

“Where are you going?” Her voice held doubt and apprehension at what (Y/n) was about to do.

“Well dear mandia, I'm going to greet our guest of course. The king in the North deserves a proper reception, don't you think?” Mandia = Sister

“He's not the king in the north, lēkia. At least not yet.” Daenerys tone were reprimanding, a tone she used a lot when speaking to her brother. lēkia = Brother.

The white-haired man’s only response was to chuckle and turning his back on the two woman that looked at each other with knowing looks.

“The king is going to ride (Y/D/N), isn't he?” Missandei asked her queen which responded with an amused and exasperated smile.

“You know how he loves dramatic entrances. I just hope he doesn't scare our guest to death and causes another war.” At the mention of Jon Snow the interpreter remembered something.

“Your brother has been very interested in the bastard, don't you think?” The ex-slave was trusted enough by her queen to have that kind of conversation.

“What do you mean?” Daenerys asked while eyeing her friend with interest.

“He's been asking for many whispers about the man, and a lot of them aren't about politics.” Missandei grinned when her queen understood the implications of the information. “And if I might say, he is indeed very handsome.” The woman gave a shy smile which was responded with a curious and surprised one from Daenerys.

“Come, you must tell me everything. Is he as short as they say…?” The queen and her interpreter proceeded with linked arms out of the throne room.

The mother of dragons was very protective of her “older” brother, as he liked to put it. As a matter of fact, they hadn't even grow up together.

(Y/n) came back to Westeros after spending almost all his life back at what was left of the home land of the Targaryen’s, Valyria. But his identity was known to Daenerys, so when a man with white hair and purple eyes came riding on the back of a (Y/D/C) dragon she knew what to expect, but the moment still came as a surprise.

(Y/n) was a laid-back guy, with a sassy and cheeky attitude. He was instantly liked and disliked by many. Most men envied the king due to his swordsmanship and physique while the women would swoon every time he spoke.

The striking similarity between the twins was proof enough of (Y/n)'s heritage. They were quick in warming up for each other and soon became inseparable.

Daenerys made the decision to share the rule of the seven kingdoms with her brother, after he proved to have a sharp mind and “unusual abilities” that made him invaluable to their success. And she needed someone she could trust by her side and the queen knew she wouldn't find that in any other man.

So, it was only natural for Daenerys to know everything about the man her brother seemed to be infatuated with. She could only hope the situation didn't came between them and the iron throne.

(Y/N) strode confidently across the many stone halls of the castle until he reached the side exit. His crimson cloak was blowing in the strong wind that was coming from the sea, and the family crest embed in the metal of his armor, right above his heart, shone in the pale morning light.

The winds were getting colder by the day, but the young dragon had fire in his blood, it warmed his body and soul against the freezing air.

(Y/n) crossed rocks and grass until he reached the dragon nest.

On a burned patch of stone, surrounded by bones and other animal remains, stood four dragons. Two smaller ones, Rhaegal and Viserion. And two bulkier ones, Drogon and (Y/D/N), the latter being the bigger of the four.

Dany was afraid at first that Drogon would get too territorial and would eventually try to kill her brother's dragon, but the opposite happened. Both dragons turned out to be best buddies, if you could explain their relationship the same way humans do.

The four giant beasts turned to look at the man as he approached, raising and flaring their frills in excitement. Drogon got closer and gave the young rider a small bump on the sides with his giant head, his way of greeting.

“Is good to see you too, you rascal.” (y/n) gave the dragon a teasing smile and a few head rubs, then after getting what he wanted, Drogon turned back the way he came.

The giant beast bumped its head on the other dragon's neck and went to lay down not too far away.

It was (Y/D/N)'s turn to come closer to the man, lowering himself and silently asking for a head rub, just like Drogon.

“Someone's feeling needy today, huh?” (Y/n) reached with both hands and started scratching the hard scales. The dragon let out a puff of hot air that warmed the man's skin.

The dragon rider gently touched their foreheads together as they often did, and the beast made a purring noise similar to a cat, tough much louder.

(Y/n)'s magical bond with his and Dany's dragons was deeper than the one between parents and their children. He could feel their spirit and the fire essence running through their veins. Five consciences melding into one, becoming hard to determine when one ends and other begins.

The peaceful silence was broken by the young man that remembered why he came to see his dragon in the first place.

“Let's greet our new guest (Y/D/N). He deserves a proper welcoming committee.” The dragon let a sound that looked awfully like a chuckle.

The stories about dragons that mimicked their rider's personalities were very much true. While (y/n)'s dragon was playful and mischievous, Drogon could be as brooding and frightening as Dany in a bad day.

The young rider moved easily when climbing his dragon's shoulder, the action almost automatic.

The beast's huge horns served as a make shift ladder and soon the rider were positioned on the dragon's back.

“Sōvēs!” “Fly!” At the command, (Y/D/N) arced his back and extended his wings, each as brilliant as stained glass, and with a powerful movement they took off.

Tyrion and Grey Worm stood by the beach, the former had just greeted the bastard of Winterfell and his advisor Ser Davos Seaworth.

Dothraki men surrounding the four figures regarded the visitors with wary curiosity, they trusted their khal and khaleesi, but one could never be too careful.

“Come now Snow, it's time for you to meet the rightful rulers of Westeros.” Tyrion remarked while leading the two men through the stone staircase.

After a few seconds of hesitation, the Onion knight and the bastard followed the dwarf, with the Dothraki men right behind them.

“If you don't mind me asking Lord Tyrion, but when did the Queen's brother arrived in Westeros?” Jon asked while eyeing his surroundings. The topic of the male Targaryen was one that came in many conversations between him and Sansa.

Since his appearance rumors were quickly spreading to all the seven kingdoms, but what Jon and his half-sister knew was probably just that, rumors.

He couldn't deny his curiosity anymore, the man intrigued him.

“Oh, he arrived a few days before Daenerys and the Unsullied took the city of Meereen. He was actually detrimental to their victory that day. If you're concerned about his heritage, don't be. They're very much alike, frightening so. And something tells me you'll be meeting soon.” Tyrion had his eyes set on the horizon, right above the man's right shoulder.

Jon had just followed the dwarf's gaze when he heard a loud roar and a pair of giant (Y/D/C) wings blocked his sight. He could barely dive in time before being decapitated by huge sharp talons.

The winged monster took another turn, and Jon could only gape and stare at the creature with wide eyes.

The dragon finally landed on the staircase making the whole structure shake and blocking the way.

Jon's attention that until now was set on massive black teeth, each the size of a man's arm, snapped towards the dragon's back where an armored man sat.

Brown eyes met purple ones. The man on the dragon's back had white snow hair, tied in a single long braid that went past his waist and a playful smile graced his lips when he looked at Jon, sprawled on the ground.

“Aena Shekhikhi. Qhono!” “Good Morning.” (y/n) greeted his men, the Dothraki, and called the attention of the taller one that stepped as closer to the dragon as he could. “Zhey qoy qoyi! Hash yer dothrae chek asshekh? Chek?” “Blood of my blood! How are you feeling today? Better?” The dragon rider asked the man, that bowed respectfully. 

“Anha dothrak chek asshekh, Khal vezhven.”  “I feel well today, great Khal.” Since arriving on the island, a large number of riders were getting sick, their bodies were not accustomed to such cold weather. (Y/n) was paying close attention to them and did what he could to speed their recovery using his medical knowledge, and other means.

“Akka zhey Moro?”  “And Moro?” The male inquired about the other rider.

“Mae's davra ale, khal. Vo afazh asshekh. Anha tih mae dothralat disse ajjin.” “He’s better, Khal. Not hot anymore. I saw him riding just now.” The rider's mouth twitched and (y/n) was pretty sure the man was fighting a smile, happy that he's fellow rider was finally getting better no doubt.

“Hazi davrae. Hezi davrae.” “That’s good. That’s good.” Sighted in relief. He had been worrying sick, and the good news were definitely welcome. “Astat mae tat jadat tihat anna. Haje? Akka zhey Qhono, zhorre yeri mahrazhi akka mithri. Yer tat davra.” “Tell him to come see me later. Okay? And Qhono, take your men and rest. You deserve it.” The young dragon spoke respectfully with his bloodrider.

“Ven yer astat, zhey Khal vezhven.”  “As you wish, great Khal.” The dothrak then spoke with the rest of his men and they began descending the staircase.

Only when the last Dothraki was out of ear shot did (Y/N) spoke, eyeing the man that yet had to get up from the ground.

“Lord Stark, it's an honor to finally put a face to the name. I promise the view is much better when you are standing up.” Jon seemed to come out of his haze when Tyrion came close and offered his hand.

“I'd say you get used to seeing them. But you never really do.” The dwarf shared his mind while giving the dragon rider a knowing and amused look.

Jon was able to recollect himself pretty quick and greeted the male Targaryen.

“Your grace, it's an honor to finally meet you too.” The white wolf gave a slight nod while looking from the dragon to his rider.

“If you don't mind me interrupting your grace.” Ser Davos came forth and spoke directly with the king. “You addressed Jon Snow as Lord stark, but that's incorrect. He never took his deceased father's family name and Jon is a king not a Lord.”

“With all due respect Ser Davos, from where I come from we never punished the child of the unfaithful. We punish the unfaithful. And we shall see about the king situation soon enough.” (Y/N) said the next words to Jon, and the intensity of his gaze almost made the man squirm. “You have the blood of the first men running through your veins Jon, you have every right to be called a Stark. And if that wasn't enough, your actions in protecting the north and your house speak for themselves.” Only the strong wind could be heard while the two men stared at each other's eyes.

(Y/N) could see that his words pleased Jon in a deeper level, maybe the man was just seeking approval and the young rider was happy to oblige.

“What happened to the unfaithful in Valyria, if you don't mind me asking your grace.” Tyrion spoke breaking the uncomfortable silence. The dwarf had an insatiable curiosity about everything related to Old Valyria.

“Well Lord Tyrion, let's just say there was amputation of certain limbs involved and leave it at that.” (Y/n) was the only one smiling at what he just said while the other three men looked at each other and gulped.

Suddenly (Y/D/N) advanced towards Jon. The man was caught by surprise, but still held his ground. It took every ounce of courage for him not to cower in the face of such monster.

(Y/n) could only look in surprise at the scene unfolding beneath him. He didn't detect any violent thoughts coming from his dragon just curiosity, so he only watched.

The dragon's massive head got closer enough to touch. He took his time inhaling the man's scent. Big and slitted orbs perused every inch of skin it could find before focusing on auburn colored eyes.

Jon did not blink or moved while the other three men watching could only gawk at the scene. (Y/n)'s expression was one of pure amazement and awe when suddenly an idea popped in his head.

Dany would probably ground him for life for even having this idea in the first place, but when did that prevented him from doing anything.

“Lord Tyrion, Aegon's Garden at this time of day is strikingly beautiful if I recall, and it has a lovely piney scent that I'm sure Ser Davos would find quite pleasing.” (Y/N) had a sweet innocent smile on his face, however Tyrion could see right through it, but knew better then questioning the king's motives so he simply nodded.

“I don't think that's wise Jon.” The old knight was quickly interrupted by the man.

“I'm going to be fine for now Ser Davos, you may accompany Lord Tyrion.” Jon removed his eyes from the dragon rider just enough to dismiss the knight from his services.

The dwarf went first to guide the way and soon the old man reluctantly followed.

When both men were far enough the young rider started to climb down from the dragon. His agile limbs made quick work and he was on the ground in a few seconds.

(Y/N) lazily walked towards Jon while caressing his dragon's scaled neck. Heat radiated through the thick plates, warming his hand.

“(Y/D/N) seems to really like you my lord.” The male Targaryen got closer to the man and was surprised that Jon stood a few inches shorter than him, a fact that brought a predatory smile to his lips.

The white wolf would be disturbed if someone else looked at him like that, but he just felt a heat spreading through his body that only worsened when the young rider started to circling him.

(Y/n)'s violet eyes roamed every inch of armor, leather and skin. His intense gaze focused on the slight blush on the other man's cheeks and ears, making them even more vivid. Inching his nose a little closer to the man, (y/n) breathed his scent in, which was earthy and reminded him of freshly cut wood, like the damp forest after a snowy day.

Jon finally was able to fight through the intense heat coiled in his belly that was clouding his mind and making his whole body ablaze. He cleared his throat before attempting speaking.

“Y-your grace, you've said earlier that you're from Old Valyria. Wasn't Valyria destroyed millennia ago?” As soon the words left Jon's mouth the man wished he could take them back.

(Y/N)'s face once joyful became full of sorrow and hard as stone. The man turned his back to Jon and looked up, meeting his dragon's slitted eyes. The immense creature stared down at him. Whatever he saw in those big orbs made up his mind.

He would trust a piece of his past to a man that he knew nothing about, or only knew what his dreams had shown him, and what his spies had uncovered. The bastard could turn out to be the enemy depending on the reason of his visit, but a feeling from deep down told him that he could trust the white wolf, the same gut feeling that led him to his sister all those years ago. The feeling he learned to follow without question.

The truth was, (Y/N) had already fallen for the man, a man he didn't met until that day. But he knew Jon to be compassionate, brave and stubborn. A man that refused to stay dead when his people still needed him. A man that would sacrifice himself to protect the family that never returned his love.

Jon was about to apologize for his lack of manners when the white-haired man started talking.

“You probably already know of when I came to be. The story goes about a great storm, that wrecked ships and shook the very foundations of this island. Me and Dany were born during that storm, hence her title, Stormborn.” Now that the gates were open the words came flowing. “My mother, gods bless her, had what the Dothraki calls a bloodrider, dothrakhqoyi, as said in dothraki language. He would kill and die for her without a second thought.” (Y/n) finally mustered the courage to turn back around. His piercing eyes focusing on Jon's brown orbs.

“That Dothrak warrior I talked to a few moments ago is one of those, my bloodrider, Qhono. Every respected Khal and khaleesi have a few warriors that had pledge their life and service to them. I'm really lucky to have two of those warriors, Moro and Qhono. We didn't come from the same womb, but they're blood of my blood nonetheless.”

“It amazes me how the Dothraki followed you and your sister here, your grace. From what I've heard they are not very fond of the sea.” After the north proclaimed him as King, Jon was set on a quest to know everything he could about his potential “enemies”, and that included the Horse Lords.

“They are not. But they are a strong people that value strength above all. When I arrived things were hard, they were wary of the new comer which is understandable.” (y/n) talked about those times with fondness, his eyes became distant probably remembering something from the past. “In time, after many battles fought, I proved my worth. Some of them died in the process, as their culture dictate, but then I became their Khal. My greatest honor. A day I'll never forget.” The man's purple eyes were glistening in the pale light of the rising sun, but he quickly wiped the tears away.

“Your grace seems to really care about the Dothraki.” The, even though they are not really your people part was left unsaid by Jon.

“They are my people. Dany tends to forget that they are her's too. I would give up everything for them, even my own life.” (Y/n) stated with such raw honesty that the bastard had no doubt the man was telling the truth. Jon felt his stomach fluttering and his heart swelled in admiration.

The bastard didn't know from where those feelings were coming from, but he smiled through the confusion making the other man frown.

“As a true king should do.” (y/n) stared into the man's eyes, that were a deep, earthy brown — the color of earth after torrential rains.

“I'm right to assume you would do the same for the north, Lord Stark?” The young rider asked, his soft lips stretching into a smile that didn't quite reach his violet eyes. The bastard thought he would never get used to be called like that, but it would be a lie if the man said he didn't like it.

“Without a second thought.” Jon answered with no hesitation and (y/n) had no choice but believe him.

“I hope we never come to that.” The king replied giving Jon a sad smile, one the man mirrored.

(Y/n) started climbing the stone steps that would eventually lead them to the castle. Jon followed close behind and soon they were faced with a giant (Y/D/C) dragon. The young rider gently caressed the smooth and hard scales.

“Jikagon hae se jelmio.” “Go like the wind.” The words were said to the dragon that after nuzzling his rider's hand took off towards the cliff. The two men stood there, silently watching the immense beast flying away, well (Y/n) was at least. Jon's eyes were admiring the man's profile. The dragon rider had a soft expression, making his eyes less intense and more peaceful. This look suited him better, Jon thought.

It was time for the bastard to blush again when the male Targaryen realized the man was staring. With a soft and teasing smile (Y/N) got closer. 

“It's amazing how a man that faced the frozen hard winter of the north, can blush with just a cold breeze.” The young rider reached with his fingers, caressing the other man's cheek that was like ice to the touch.

Jon closed his eyes and breathed a heavy sigh. He couldn't remember the last time someone touched him without ill intentions. And the ones who actually did it caused him great pain, physically and otherwise, and he had the scars to prove it.

But (Y/n) touch, despise his teasing tone, was gentle and radiated warmth. A warmth that Jon didn't know he craved until he had a taste of it.

“Or maybe is something else entirely.” Jon felt the warmth leaving his cheek and for just a second he chased after it before snapping back to reality. 

Jon couldn't look (Y/n) in the eyes so he focused on a very interesting patch of stone close to his feet. The bastard could feel the other man stare a hole in his head, which made him even more embarrassed. He was regretting ever letting Ser Davos leave with Tyrion.

(Y/n) didn't know Jon would react the way he did, but it was a nice surprise. The lord commander,  the man rumored to have come back to life, the king in the North, and he was blushing to the tip of his ears and all it took was a slight brush of his fingers. (Y/n) could only imagine how the man would react to a real touch, or maybe something more.

The young rider finally took pity of Jon and diverted his eyes towards the horizon. The bastard looked up when (Y/n) started speaking again.

“As I was saying, my mother's knight sailed to the continent of Essos a few months before my birth, in search of what was left of the Valyrian Freehold, now known as Old Valyria. He found great many things. One of those being, the stone men were not the only living beings residing in the ruins of my city. My people still lived, a few of them at least, and our culture lived with them.” Jon could only listen to the man. What he described should be impossible. Every tale he had ever heard about Valyria depicted the city to be nothing but ruins. Nothing could leave there.

 “He stayed in the city for a few weeks. Helping where he could, building trust with the locals, and making connections. When he returned to Westeros the war was already happening. The War of the Usurper, primarily instigated by Eddard Stark, your father.” (y/n)'s expression didn't betray any emotion as the words left his mouth, and Jon stared in confusion. “What wouldn't we do for the ones we love, huh? If I were in his place I might have done the same thing. The world would burn before anyone could laid a hand on my sister.”

“I know the story. It seems our families have quite a history.” Jon stated, giving a smile that looked more like a grimace than anything. The topic wasn't a pleasant one.

“Indeed we have. Much blood was spilled between our houses, but that's in the past. The sons shouldn’t be blamed on the mistakes of their fathers. I hope we can agree that our real enemy are one and the same.” (y/n)'s eyes were holding the wisdom of the words he left unsaid, and Jon could swear the man knew more about the reasons of his visit than he was letting on.

(Y/n) diverted his eyes before the bastard could decipher the information they held.

“Needless to say, my mother died giving birth to me and my sister. But before that, she instructed her trusted knight to protect me with his life, and they knew I wouldn't be safe in Westeros. The Targaryen twins would draw to much attention if we stayed together, making us easy targets.” (y/n) started climbing the stone steps once again, in a lazy pace.

“So, your mother's knight took you to Essos?” Jon inquired, walking side by side with the taller man.

“Yes, he did. Ser Willem Darry, the former master-of-arms of the red keep, led four other loyalists in smuggling my brother Viserys and Dany from this island in the middle of the night. They ultimately sailed to Braavos across the Narrow sea. I went next, with only my protector and a wet nurse. We took the route south towards the summer sea, arriving at our final destination weeks later, the Valyrian Peninsula.” Of course (y/n) didn't remembered any of those facts, but his caretaker told him all about those early years.

Jon couldn't wrap his head around what he was hearing, but something told him he should trust the man walking beside him, and that had nothing to do with his growing feelings towards the male, he told himself.

“How was it? Growing in such place, I mean.” Jon's curiosity wasn't academic like Tyrion's, he wanted to know (y/n) and for that he needed to understand his upbringing.

The man gave a humorless chuckle before responding.

“It was no place for a child to grow. But it was better then death, that's certain.” (y/n) joked, and this time both men laughed.

Jon's laugh was followed by small giggles that made his whole face flush. The laughter created a small vacation for both men, a blessed relief from all the distress that didn't seem to have an end. For a single moment Jon forgot about the night king, the white walkers and all the people depending on him. He lost the tightness in his chest. The muscles in his neck relaxed, and his shoulders sagged. He couldn't remember the last time he felt that good.

(Y/n) lost all sense of his surroundings. Staring wasn't quite the word for what the male was doing. His eyes rested, not unblinking but slowed; yet the effect was soft and inviting instead of harsh.

(Y/n)'s violet eyes focused on Jon's figure and everything about him. His hair, black and tied in bun, seemed to engulf every ray of sunlight. The male knew that underneath all the thick clothes was a powerful and strong body, able to withstand the cruel and harsh life of the north, and certainly marred with scars. (Y/n) never wanted more to strip the man bare, to break him apart just to… The male snapped back to reality.

“Ao mittys, ao mittys.” “You fool, you fool.” The white-haired man whispered over and over again between gritted teeth, cursing himself. He had done it again. A stupid thing, letting his feelings cloud his judgement. Tyrion always said he had too much heart, a growing rarity those days.

“Is everything all right, your grace?” Jon asked while his hand hovered above the man's shoulder, uncertain if the touch would be welcome or not.

“I'm fine my lord. It's just, I have a lot on my mind right now.” (y/n) answered with a fake smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. Jon let his hand drop while giving the man a slight nod, his brows squished together in a concerned frown, but it was not his place to call the king out of his lie.

 “Where were we?” (Y/n) asked no one in particular.

“Your upbringing, your grace.” Jon responded after a few seconds of silence; the man seemed lost in thought.

“Right, how death can be compared to my childhood days. Gods how I can be morbid sometimes.” The king gave a humorless chuckle. His past wasn't a pleasant memory but it had its good moments. For the most part he chose to focus on those times, the happy ones. And yet his mind had other plans.

“Isse iā dārion hen perzys ānogār, mērī se quba kostagon umbagon paktot.” The words came flowing from his mouth, as it did years before from his protector's.

“What does it mean?” The bastard inquired in a soft tone. He knew the topic wasn't a pleasant one for the man.

“In a kingdom of fire and blood, only the wicked can stay sane.” (y/n)'s face was hard as steel, his eyes grew dark and haunted, but he forced the words out. “My guardian told me those words when I killed my first man. I had no choice, it was me or him, and I didn't take pleasure doing it. For me life is important, more than anything, but sometimes death it's the only way.”

“I learned great many things from him, my protector, particularly the best way to swing a sword. But to survive in Old Valyria one needed more than a metal stick.” (y/n) responded while taking a detour, so instead of going towards the castle, both men were heading to the other side of the island.

Jon realized this and almost told the king he had taken the wrong path, but decided against it. If anyone knew how to navigate the island was him.

“Do you believe in magic, my lord?” The white-haired man asked while taking careful steps between the rocks that littered the ground close to the cliff. The question caught Jon by surprise, but he answered after a few seconds of thinking.

“Well, I heard old stories. Warlocks on Qarth, red priests capable of seeing the future by gazing into flames and pyres. Men who are able to control untamed beasts by entering their minds. There was an old woman in Winterfell that used to tell all sorts of crazy stories, and I've seen things that I can't explain too.” At that Jon stops talking. His memories flashing back to what he saw during his time beyond the Wall. White walkers, the wights and the night king. He knew that that was true, because he had seen it with his own two eyes. The same couldn't be said about the rest.

“A skeptic, my lord? I understand. You can't believe in everything you hear, you need evidence. I like that.” (y/n) nodded his approval as a slight smile tugged his lips. “When I was a child, I used to believe in all sorts of fairytales that my wet nurse used to tell me. As I grew older I discovered that some of those tales were false while others were very much real. All proved to be true: blood magic, fire magic, greensight, skinchanging and finally, the darkest of them all, necromancy.” At the last word the white-haired man gave Jon a dark look, a look that made his skin crawl and the fine hairs covering his body to stand on end. Could the king be talking about the army of the dead? That was the reason Jon had come to Dragonstone in the first place. But how could (y/n) know about what happened beyond the Wall, the Targaryen’s never ventured so up north.

“What your grace meant about necromancy?” Jon asked when he was finally able to move his mouth again.

“Patience my lord. I have a feeling that all your questions will be answered soon.” The male twin replied giving Jon an enigmatic grin.

Soon they stopped at the edge of a cliff, and both men admired the sight before them.

Four giant beasts flying in front of the rising sun. The dragons had a way about them, a slowness and grace. Their immense leathery wings, each as brilliant as stained glass, blocking the pale rays of sunlight, casting the island in a dragon shaped shadow.

“They are beautiful, aren't they? How can you not believe in magic when the proof of its existence is right in front of you?” (y/n) asked the man beside him. Jon stared at the flying creatures in amazement and scoffed.

“With all due respect your grace, I don't even know how dragons are born, or created for that matter. All I know is that they went extinct hundreds of years ago and then suddenly they were back.” The bastard replied with crossed arms and a sarcastic expression, one that (y/n) couldn't help but laugh of. And damn it if Jon didn't want to hear that laugh many times more.

“So allow me to educate you my lord. Dragons lay clutches of eggs that are roughly the size of a human child's head, but much heavier. The spark of life inside these eggs can last for decades or even centuries, no one really knows. But the secret key to hatch a dragon's egg is made very obvious in my house words. Fire and blood.” The king then returned his gaze towards the flying dragons, while Jon took the opportunity to marvel at the man's profile.

“So you see, to give birth to a dragon one must have magic in their blood. The connection between rider and dragon can't be explained, it goes beyond our flesh. I would die for my ride Jon, as a mother would for her children. Do you understand?” (y/n) searing purple eyes focused on Jon, the man felt as if his feet were rooted to the ground, unable to move, he could only stare back. Whatever the king saw in those earthy brown orbs convinced him. Convinced him to show the bastard another piece of his past. “I want to show you something.” 

(Y/n) closed his eyes and gave a deep sigh, emptying his lungs. He focused on his dragons, their connection, and in their shared spirits. The man was able to feel every inch of scales and every shift of the powerful muscles underneath them. He watched from their eyes and heard from their ears. At that moment they were one. The same fire that burned in him burned inside of his children.

When he felt that their connection was complete (y/n) finally opened his eyes, and they were milky white. If Jon wasn't so engrossed at what he was seeing he might had fallen from the precipice. The sight scared him to his core, but it also amazed him. Of course, he had seen the same thing when he was beyond the wall, but this time it felt more powerful, more raw.

Jon could only gawk and hope the man couldn't see how much he was shaking.

“Māzigon.” “Come.” (y/n) whispered. If the bastard wasn't so captivated by the whole thing, he surely would've missed the moment when the four dragons started flying towards them. When the creatures were close enough to the cliff they dived towards the sea, dipping their tails and huge talons into the water. When Jon was sure the dragons would hit the rocky side of the island they extended their leathery wings, gaining speed towards the sky, only a few inches from where the bastard and the king stood.

If it wasn't for (y/n)'s good reflexes, Jon would had fallen face first on the ground. The king maintained a strong hold on the man's arm, keeping them both on their feet. Each dragon gave another turn before landing right in front of the two men, making the ground shake.

“Careful where you step my lord.” Jon looked at the man startled, half expecting to see eyes glazed white, but the foreign violet orbs were back and they were looking at him in amusement. “And now I scared you to silence. Great.” (y/n) chuckled while Jon diverted his eyes between him and the dragons, his mouth kept opening and closing like a stranded fish.

“H-how did you…? Were you controlling them?” The bastard spoke, after finally being able to form coherent words.

“Controlling? No. I was part of them, as they were part of me. I can control them if the situation requires, but is not something I would like to do. They are intelligent creatures my lord, more than certain men I know.” The snark comment drew a laugh from the bastard, that was watching the male twin caress the scaled head of his dragon. “They have affection for their friends and fury for their enemies. They grieve for the dead and rejoice at every victory.”

(Y/n) still had his hand around Jon's biceps. The male twin slid his fingers down the bastard's arm that was covered by hard clothing, the rough fabric was definitely made to protect the wearer from the cold.

Jon's breath hitched, all of his attention was focused on the soft feeling of the other man's touch, that radiated warmth even through the thick leather.

When their hands touched the world around them seemed to fade. (Y/n)'s hand was calloused but not as Jon's. His felt more like sandpaper, or perhaps stone, rough, unfinished and cold as if all heat had been sucked out of it. It suited him, the king thought, looking into his deep brown eyes, that held a gentle glint that seemed to reflect the corners of his mouth, which were fighting a shy smile. The male Targaryen brought Jon's hand up to his lips, the warm breath graced the man's fingers and goosebumps flooded his skin.

(Y/n) marveled at the harsh feeling of the man’s palm. A hand of a warrior. His lips caressed every callus and rough patch of skin, without taking his eyes off the bastard that had become a blushing mess. The king then took Jon’s hand, guiding it towards the awaiting dragon, that was still close. The irregular scales were warm to the touch, more so than the king’s hand, that was still on top of his, the bastard realized. (Y/D/N) nuzzled at the two hands in an affectionate manner, making both men chuckle, Jon in amazement and (y/n) in relief that his dragon accepted the man that he was, probably, in love with.

They were so immersed in the moment that Tyrion was able to sneak up on them. The only warning been the sounds of protest coming from the three dragons. Jon reluctantly removed his hand from the dragon’s warm scaled snout when he saw the dwarf making his way towards them.

“I’m sorry for the interruption your grace, but the queen awaits.” Missandei spoke while bowing in respect.

“Certainly. I think I kept you to myself for long enough, my lord. Believe me, you don’t want to leave my sister awaiting.” (y/n) said, giving the man a fake  frightened look, for which Jon responded with a chuckle. Missandei only eyed the interaction with amusement. “I trust Missandei to show you the way. I’ll be there momentarily.”

Jon gave the king one last lingering look and an awkward bow before following the ex-slave towards the castle. 

(Y/n)’s eyes followed Jon’s retreating figure for a few seconds before looking at his dragon and saying.  “Issa, kesi gaomagon bisy.” “Yep, we'll keep this one.”

[amphtaminedreams]

The Misogyny of Game of Thrones and its Treatment of Daenerys Targaryen: A Tale in Two Parts

TW// Discussion of Rape and Sexual Assault

The best way to sum up the majority of the Game of Thrones fan population’s relationship with Daenerys Targaryen is-

Daenerys: *breathes*

Game of Thrones fans: *insert Kermit trembling with anger GIF here*

You see, whilst every other character on the show can get away with anything short of rape and still be lavished in praise, Daenerys Targaryen only has to assert her claim to the throne and people are up in arms. 

And this tirade, courtesy of series 8 episode 4 of the show, isn’t just aimed at the fans. It’s aimed at the writers too. I’ve spent pretty much all day on Reddit criticising the way her character arc is clearly headed and desperately trying to make all those I-like-Arya-Stark-so-I-can’t-be-sexist fans see why I am so vehemently pissed off about it. Almost as pissed off as I am about the fact that every time I go to tweet something about Thrones on twitter, the most popular hashtag has multiple spelling errors. 

It’s hard not to notice that in an episode where one of the other female characters basically says that she needed to go through the abuse that she did to be the smart woman she is today (I mean, her just existing in King’s Landing and travelling alongside Little Finger would’ve been enough to explain Sansa’s political smarts and talent for manipulation but you know! Gotta throw a bit of rape in there too!), we also had Dany’s 2 male aides sit around and gossip about how the woman they’re supposed to be advising is out of control. Of course, forgetting the fact that part of Daenerys’ current state of mind is to do with her losing the majority of her army thanks to said advisors’ god awful advice; funnily enough, one of the most tired criticisms of Dany is that she doesn’t listen to anyone else but, like, I WISH that was true, if ONLY she would stop listening to the naive, dumbed down version of himself that Tyrion has become. Anyway, although it probably seems I’m writing this a bit prematurely, since we haven’t actually seen Daenerys go full “mad queen” yet, with all the mentions of her father (nicknamed the mad king after his enjoyment of roasting innocent people alive) and the way other characters have been speaking about her, it’s pretty obvious what’s to come. Not to mention that this episode’s final moments delivered what we are most likely supposed to see as the final trigger of Daenerys’ descent into “madness”, which was the wonderfully tasteful slaughter of the show’s only prominent woman of colour. I’m not even going to go into the symbolism of Missandei of Narth, previously liberated from slavery, dying in chains and how blatantly fucked up that is.

Imagine, the arc of a woman we’ve watched build an army, build followers, build self-confidence for 8 seasons, a woman who has been through abuse, rape, the death of her husband and child, the death of her best friends, the armies she built up, all of it, reduced to her ending up as the “mad queen” within the show’s universe. We know she won’t get a Jaime, Theon or Hound-style redemption arc either, she’ll end up dead, probably killed by one of the fandom’s more beloved characters. Because we all know her supposed madness justifies that, right? And lately on this show, everyone not protected with a hasty coat of plot armour and/or favouritism is dropping dead. 

I’m not saying Daenerys has to sit on the Iron Throne for me to be satisfied. She just deserved better than this. And in a show where Jon Snow can come back to life and Arya and Gendry can end up together and Sam Tarly can survive the Battle for Winterfell, surely, that isn’t so much to ask? She deserves to die without having her name dragged through the mud, without people acting as if her actions are inexplicable, without her being portrayed as if she’s just as bad as Cersei. She deserves to die that heroine that she is, the breaker of chains, the mother of dragons, the Khaleesi of the great grass sea and all that jazz, not another “crazy” woman.

She especially deserves to die without the fandom celebrating her demise as well, which they almost certainly will. The same fandom that cheered on Stannis Baratheon (up until the, ahem, daughter burning incident) for his ambition, ruthlessness and pride have long been calling Daenerys Targaryen a crazy, unreasonable tyrant for exhibiting the exact same qualities, albeit probably to a less cruel degree. Daenerys kills two traitors and she’s beyond redemption whilst Stannis burnt his own followers and was still rooted for by the masses. Jon Snow, The Hound, Jaime, they all cut down man after man after man and charge into battle without thinking, no big deal, they’re “good people at heart”, but Daenerys Targaryen is a psycho bitch, apparently, for using the weapon at her disposal to deal with enemies whilst at war and to punish slave masters. Double standards all round. It’s fine to dislike Daenerys Targaryen, but when criticisms are inconsistently applied to female characters versus male characters, I can’t help but think it’s rooted in misogyny, especially in a show with superfluous amounts of violence against women, a largely male audience, and since season 3, not a single woman in the writer’s room. If Dany does go on to burn down King’s Landing, it would be in a desperate attempt to wreak revenge on Cersei, a motive that usually spawns calls of “badass!” and an action movie trilogy when it’s a dude doing it (funny how women doing the same thing always gets them called vindictive and spiteful, isn’t it?). It would be an act of grief and an understandable outcome of having everything you’ve worked for all your life slip through your fingers to someone who doesn’t even want it, whilst in a foreign land, everyone you care about either turned on you or dead. If it was true that the woman who liberated thousands of slave men, women and children didn’t care about sparing the lives of the people living in the Red Keep, she would've burnt down King’s Landing and taken it the moment she arrived in Westeros, you know, back when she still had a huge army and 3 living dragons. Before she sacrificed them to save the lives of people she could’ve easily gone back to Essos and let perish, and wait for the winter to kill off her enemies. 

Yes, I’m uncomfortable with the idea of Game of Thrones ending with two “crazy women” facing off against each other whilst inadequate men, who’ve had a whole host of opportunities to stop things from getting to this point, sit around and get praised for doing the bare minimum. I’m uncomfortable because so many people with both conscious and subconscious misogynistic biases will delight in slagging off a bunch of female characters for being unreasonable and not fit to rule (don’t get me wrong, this definitely applies to Cersei but I will not stand to hear this about Dany, who did a fine job in Mereen when not having to deal with the Sons of the Harpies WHOM SHE EVENTUALLY DEALT WITH ANYWAY), whilst still patting themselves on the back for being inclusive just because they fanboy over the two female characters who refuse to associate with anything remotely feminine. Who excuse one character becoming a super assassin off screen but can’t excuse her pretty, dress wearing sister picking up some political know-how whilst spending her teenage years observing small council members and studying under Little Finger. Yes, as much as I love them, I’m talking about Brienne and “other girls are stupid” Arya Stark. In all of this, god do I want to apologise to Emilia Clarke and Nathalie Emmanuel for having to put up with their characters being decimated in such a way. They deserve better. We all do.

[starringemiliaclarke]

Emilia Clarke on Why Game of Thrones Is the Perfect Form of Escapism + HQ Scans

As Daenerys Targaryen on Game of Thrones, Emilia Clarke created a warrior queen for the ages. Her legend can be told on the walls of caves or on T-shirts at Comic-Con. But behind the Valkyrie wigs and very testy dragons, Clarke has an inspiring origin story of her own.

A valley sprawls before her, rich with every color of green in the kingdom, reaching out to a twinkling city, which borders the infinite sea. Her hair (tinted not with peroxide, but tiny flecks of actual gold) glows with a radiance that makes the setting sun so jealous it hides behind the surrounding mountains, and the evening sky blushes. She is Daenerys Targaryen, Queen of the Andals, Breaker of Chains, Mother of Dragons, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea. Everything in sight belongs to her.

Just kidding! She is Emilia Clarke, sitting high above Beverly Hills in a glass mansion rented for a magazine cover shoot. So high up that passing aircraft rattle the bones of the house and those inside it. So high up that you can see Santa Catalina Island in the distance, peeking out from behind a curtain of fog. She laughs about something the makeup artist says, and the last of the evening light bounces off of her cheekbones and shoots into the camera lens.

We are in the sky to talk about Clarke’s reign as one of the most preeminent television actresses of our time, as Daenerys on Game of Thrones. But first, I have a few questions about her abandoned career as a jazz singer.

Clarke’s default emotion is joy — her resting heart rate seems to be just below that of someone seconds after winning a medium-expensive raffle prize — but it quickly congeals into theatrical horror when I reveal that I know that she is a casual but talented singer of jazz music.

When she was 10, Clarke was an alto in a chorus that she describes as “very churchy.” Then a substitute teacher introduced her class to jazz. “I just innately understood it,” she explains. “I was always sliding up and down the notes. Every time, the [chorus] teacher would be like, ‘Quit sliding, just sing that note and then that one and that’s it. Stop trying to fuck with it.’ Then this [jazz teacher] was like, ‘Fuck with it. That’s the point.’ ” Fast-forward a couple of decades, and Clarke was singing “The Way You Look Tonight” at the American Songbook Gala in New York, honoring Richard Plepler, erstwhile CEO of HBO. Nicole Kidman was there, too, and that is the story of Emilia Clarke, a very famous singer.

Just kidding, again! That is the story of Emilia Clarke, extremely famous actress, and it is not even the beginning. Game of Thrones, the HBO fantasy epic that has captured the global zeitgeist for most of the past decade, has entered its ultimate season. Since the show premiered in 2011, Daenerys’s searing platinum blonde has been branded into the brains of every living person with cable access, so much so that she has become as recognizable an action figure as Princess Leia. Every autumn, legions of Americans don Grecian-style dresses and carry stuffed dragons to Halloween parties in homage. Kristen Wiig even appeared on The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon in a full Daenerys getup. This phenomenon exists in part because it’s a relatively easy costume to assemble, but more likely because Game of Thrones is the most popular TV show in the history of TV shows.

It’s also just one of three popular entertainment franchises Clarke has participated in. Last year: Solo: A Star Wars Story, as a paramour of Han Solo. Two years before that: the fifth Terminator movie, beside Arnold. She was also Holly Golightly in a short-lived Breakfast at Tiffany’s production on Broadway. None of those projects were particularly successful — but none of that matters, to a remarkable degree, because what matters is: The people love Daenerys.

They love a character whose series arc begins with her indentured servitude as a warlord’s concubine and ends, most recently, with her fighting for sovereignty over a league of nations and for a throne made of swords. They love how fictional languages drift from her mouth like dancing smoke, and how her searing-white mane retains a fearsome curl, even in or near battle. They love the whole dragons thing.

The people would love Emilia Clarke, too, if only they knew who she was. During the first few seasons of Game of Thrones, Clarke was able to fool the general public into believing she was very regular civilian Emilia Clarke, because Daenerys was blonde, and Clarke was not. Now, she says, recognition happens more frequently. Particularly Stateside.

For reasons I cannot fathom, Americans feel more entitled to command the attention of celebrities. “People are like, ‘UH-melia CLORK!’ ” she says, in perfect American. In London, people are prone to whisper about her as she passes by. “ ‘Was that Emilia Clarke?’ ”

“I move like a shark when I’m in public,” she says. “Head down. I think I’ve got quite bad posture because of it, because I’m determined to lead a normal life. So I just move too quickly for anyone to register if it’s me or not. And I don’t walk around with six security men and big sunglasses and a bizarre coat. I really try to meld in.” It gets worse when the show is being promoted, but otherwise, she says, it’s not so bad.

“I move like a shark when I’m in public. Head down…I’m determined to lead a normal life, so I just move too quickly for anyone to register if it’s me or not.”

Her best efforts aside, anonymity may be a pipe dream. The show is as decorated as a Christmas tree in a craft store. Game of Thrones has won a Peabody and 47 Emmys, the most of any television drama in history. The show marries critical praise with popular success, then it mercilessly slaughters those who have come to celebrate this union and receives even more acclaim (“The Rains of Castamere,” season 3, episode 9). The plotlines are famously convoluted. Luckily, we have an entire web’s worth of episode explainers, encyclopedias designed specifically for the Westeros universe, and a self-explanatory Funny or Die segment called Gay of Thrones, starring Jonathan van Ness.

When Mad Men first aired, television bloggers dutifully unpacked its symbolic elements, and millennials celebrated the show’s style with Mad Men–themed parties that were really just ’60s-and-one-red-wig-themed parties. Game of Thrones is basically an economy of its own. Since the show premiered, tourism to Croatia, whose coastal port Dubrovnik stands in for the fictional city of King’s Landing, has nearly doubled. Game of Thrones–themed weddings are so popular that it is almost impossible not to attend them — in 2016, Clarke accidentally walked into one that was occurring at the same hotel where she and the cast were staying during filming. (It was not a canonical wedding, and no guests were harmed.)

Game of Thrones has also earned one of the most important pop culture accolades of the century: The attention of Beyoncé Knowles. I believe it is her favorite TV show, and this is why.

Exhibit A: Jay-Z reportedly gave her a prop dragon’s egg from the set, at great personal expense. Exhibit B: At an Oscars after-party this year, Beyoncé approached Clarke (“voluntarily,” according to the actress) to introduce herself. “I watched her face go, ‘Oh, no, I shouldn’t be talking to this crazy [woman], who is essentially crying in front of me,’ ” remembers Clarke. “I think my inner monologue was, ‘Stop fucking it up,’ and I kept fucking it up.”

“I was like, ‘I just saw you in concert.’ And she was like, ‘I know.’ ” Clarke also mentions that Beyoncé complimented her work but declines to share specifics.

Why are people (more specifically, everybody) and goddesses (more specifically, Beyoncé) all obsessed with a show about some dragons and lots of dungeons?

“The show is sensationalist in a way,” Clarke explains, in an effort to describe a TV series that features twins having sex and a child’s defenestration in the very first episode. It doesn’t matter — Clarke’s conversational style is so intimate and emphatic that basic facts feel like sworn secrets. When she smiles, she does so with every single muscle in her face. “It’s the reason why people pick up gossip magazines. They want to know what happens next…. You’ve got a society that is far removed enough from ours but also circulates around power. How that corrupts people and how we want it, and how we don’t want it.”

In other words, Game of Thrones’ value proposition is creating a rich other world for people to experience a prestige, high-production version of pure, horny, violent, unbridled drama. It is, according to Clarke, pitched perfectly: “I think it caught Western society at exactly the right moment.”

“I don’t know about you,” she says, “but when I watch something, it’s escapism. I’m feeling crappy; I’m just sad, moody, depressed, upset, angry, whatever it is. I know that distraction is what makes me get better. Distraction is what really, really helps me.” She laughs and then quickly pivots to a caveat: “I’m sure that’s not what a therapist would advise.”

It is at this point that Emilia Clarke leans in very close, her breath knocking at my sideburn, and explains to me the bombastic and devastating ending to the most important TV show of the decade.

Wow — just kidding once more. But, uh, while we’re on the topic, how is this whole thing going to end?

It was not hard to root for the Breaker of Chains, until recently. Now we’re seeing the gentle unspooling of her character, and flickers of a dangerous prophecy that she will ascend the throne only to follow in her father’s footsteps and burn it all to the ground. For a while, Daenerys seemed like the Lawful Good ruler, but we have had the great pleasure of watching how power can pervert people. (Nate Jones, at Vulture, leads a thrilling discussion of this very topic.) (Also, if Daenerys were to rule the Seven Kingdoms, only to go nuts, we might at the very least have a spinoff to look forward to.)

Clarke will never say. Throughout 10 or so years in the public eye, her interviews have been peppered with the same handful of charming personal details from her career — the service jobs she worked prior to making it, dancing the funky chicken during her Game of Thrones audition — which feels a lot like walking a vast beach and finding the same series of 10 seashells.

Then, in March, some very different treasure washed ashore when The New Yorker ran the most illuminating profile of Emilia Clarke to date. It was written by Emilia Clarke.

If I am truly being honest every minute of every day I thought I was going to die.

In it, Clarke revealed that she had suffered two near-fatal brain aneurysms during the early seasons of Game of Thrones. The first hit her mid-plank during a training session, and not long after, doctors discovered a second that required them to open her skull for a risky operation. The recovery period was, to her, more painful than the aneurysms. “If I am truly being honest,” she wrote, “every minute of every day I thought I was going to die.” She also announced her charity venture, SameYou, which seeks to provide rehabilitation for young people recovering from brain injuries.

The second time we talk, it is the day before the Game of Thrones New York premiere, and Clarke is at a morning fitting, surrounded by a coronation’s worth of gowns. It’s early, and a passing cold has fried the edges of her voice. But her words still vibrate with so much joy, it’s like she doesn’t even notice. She’s just happy to be here, wherever she is.

Source

Emilia Clarke on Why Game of Thrones Is the Perfect Form of Escapism + HQ Scans was originally published on Enchanting Emilia Clarke | Est 2012

[nyangibun]

Have you heard of Idi Amin Dada? He was president of Uganda from 1971-1979 and a dictator who killed half a million through extrajudicial killings. His official title was "His Excellency, President for Life, Field Marshal Al Hadji Doctor Idi Amin Dada, VC, DSO, MC, Lord of All the Beasts of the Earth and Fishes of the Seas and Conqueror of the British Empire in Africa in General and Uganda in Particular". Remind you of anyone?

[cont… They always make a point of using her full title “Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen, First of Her Name, the Unburnt, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Chains, and Mother of Dragons” and she has crucified 163 masters through extrajudicial killings. I don’t understand why more people don’t see this coming, cause it’s a coming. It isn’t even a great twist, it’s the natural and inevitable conclusion to her character arc.]

“Any man who must say, “I am the King”, is no true king.”

It’s narcissism plain and simple. 

It’s the need for people to know all that you’ve accomplished and overcome so that they may be in awe of you and worship you. Regardless of whether your titles are hard-earned or not, it doesn’t matter. It’s boastful and egotistical and completely in line, as you’ve very accurately mentioned, with a dictator.

If you are as wonderful of a ruler as you say you are then it will show and titles are not needed. Tywin was right when he said that quote above. Any person who needs to continuously reiterate that they are king/queen is not a true king/queen at all. 

Also, now that you’ve mentioned the above, it got me thinking and I realised why I can’t stand D’s storyline with being called ‘mother’. Of course there are many reasons why, all of them racist and gross, but I live in a country under a military regime at the moment. Our current prime minister took over the country by force, was only meant to be there for a year at most to ensure peace and a proper election, but he’s been there for a few years now. He constantly refers to himself as the people’s ‘uncle’ and talks down to everyone like they are his children. He’s censored the media and has continuously put people in jail for speaking out against him and then turns it around and talks about how we’ve disappointed him. He is basically a dictator and it’s his justice or jail (which is corrupt and god knows what happens to the people in there). It’s not that he does it knowingly because he’s an evil asshole, but because he truly thinks he is doing what’s right by the country. 

And that is just too much like D. 

So if she wins the throne and ends up on top, I say fuck everything and fuck George and his dumbass narrative. Sorry not sorry. 

[trinuviel]

A hero in her own mind... On Daenerys Targaryen (part 4)

Here’s the fourth part in my analysis of Daenerys Targaryen’s narrative arc in Game of Thrones. (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3). The focus in this post and the next is her season 6 arc. However, I have been forced to split up my analysis of season 6 into two parts due to issues of length.

Season 6 marks a crucial turning point for Daenerys – both in terms of her narrative arc and her character development. Season 5 showed her struggling to rule a hostile city, battling her own impulse towards violent action and trying to compromise. Ultimately, she failed – flying away from Mereen on the back of Drogon. When season 6 opens, things don’t look good for Dany. She’s stranded alone in the Great Grass Sea with an uncooperative dragon and she is almost immediately apprehended by a Dothraki khalasar. She gets out of a sticky situation by telling them that she’s the widow of the great Khal Drogo but that just earns her a one-way ticket to Vaes Dothrak to be shut away with the Dosh Khaleen; all former khaleesis who in their widowhood serve a religious function for the Dothraki people.

BURNING DOWN THE DOSH KHALEEN

Dany has in many ways come full circle and this season contains a number of important call backs to season 1, all of them centered around the Dosh Khaleen, which denotes both the widows of the khals but also the temple they reside in. It was in the Dosh Khaleen that the prophecy of The Stallion that Mounts the World was spoken, it was in the Dosh Khaleen that Viserys was killed and it was in the Dosh Khaleen that Drogo swore to take the 7 Kingdoms for his son (season 1, episodes 06 and 07).

Now, it is in the Dosh Khaleen that Dany has her final confrontation with the khals, who sit in judgement of her. In this scene, Dany basically declares herself Khal of Khals before she sets the room on fire, killing the khals before she emerges from the burning building, naked and unburnt. Accompanied by swelling choral music, the Dothraki, awestruck, prostrate themselves before her in worship.

There’s been a lot of criticism of this scene – mainly due to the fact that GRRM has publicly stated that Dany is not immune to fire in general, that the birth of the dragons was a unique, wonderous and magical event.

Then there is the fact that showing a bunch of brown people prostrating themselves before a white, blonde woman creates a visual that cannot escape its undeniable racist connotations.

It is the crowd surfing scene from season 3 all over again and it is rather painful to watch. 

There’s another aspect to this scene that I’m very uncomfortable with. The Dosh Khaleen has religious function among the Dothraki and when Dany burns down their temple, she’s metaphorically killing their religion. She’s their god now, which is emphasized by the way they completely prostrate themselves before her, foreheads pressed firmly into the ground. This is one of the reasons why I find this scene so very ominous – despite the triumphant music and the swelling voices of the choir that accompany the visuals. This worshipful attitude represents a great danger to Dany as a ruler since it might just lead her to buy into her own PR.  Combine this with fact that the priesthood of R’hollor also are proselyzing about her divine role as The Prince that Was Promised and Kinvara’s words about Dany being worshipped and obeyed, I’d say that there’s a good chance that Dany just might be lead astray by prophecies of greatness.

FIRE MADE FLESH

Despite all this, I would argue that the scene where Daenerys exits the burning temple conveys something very important about her on a purely visual level.

Emerging from the inferno of the Dosh Khaleen, Daenerys looks like she is made of fire! In that intermediary stage where she can be seen only as a blurred shape among the flames, she looks like fire made flesh. She is reborn, the dragon has been awakened! Unlike her brother Viserys, Danenerys is a true dragon because she is unburnt. Remember her words when Khal Drogo killed her brother: “He was no dragon. Fire cannot kill a dragon.” (Season 1, episode 06). I would argue that the scene where Dany burns the khals represents a rebirth for her. She is finally embracing her Targaryen heritage, Fire and Blood, when she emerges unburnt from the pyre of the Dosh Khaleen – and it is a terrifying heritage. I think it is also worth to note that after her “rebirth” Dany no longer has any problems with controlling her dragons.

This scene articulates Daenerys’ elemental connection to her her dragons on purely visual level. It is subtly done but this particular image mirrors the fact that dragons are FIRE MADE FLESH! That is explicitly stated in both the books and the show through dialogue. However, this is not necessarily be a good thing for Dany. Especially since there is a scene from episode 1 in season 7 that uses the same technique of having figures emerging gradually from an ice storm.

I am, of course, talking about the White Walkers, the threat against humanity. What I find interesting about this little clip is the fact that it is visually similar to the scene where Dany emerges from the fire – and I would argue that this similarity is meaningful and important. I have already mentioned that both the books and the show explicitly states that dragons are FIRE MADE FLESH. However, they also implicitly describe that the White Walkers are ICE MADE FLESH. That is done through the imagery that surrounds the description of the WWs. In the books, they melt when killed whereas they shatter into shards of ice on the show.

Why is Dany’s alignment with fire a potentially bad thing? Fire and Ice are polar opposites, fire melts ice. It seems simple. Yet nothing in GRRM’s worldview is simple and straightforward. The priesthood of R’hollor believe in a world that is caught in a Manichaean battle between good and evil, light and darkness, fire and ice. Yet GRRM represents R’hollorism primarily in a negative light. They’re fanatics and their kind of binary thinking often results in destructive acts, like burning people alive. Ice and Fire are elemental powers that are polar opposites but they are also equally destructive forces. That is why I wonder if GRRM isn’t presenting us with a third way. The most magical character in the entire series is Bran Stark – and his magic is rooted in the living land! His warging connects him to the animal kingdom and his greenseeing is rooted in the Weirwoods, magical trees that live forever if undisturbed (x). It is also noteworthy that The Three-Eyed Raven that chose Bran is Brynden Rivers (the Bloodraven), a Targaryen bastard. Yet he chose a Stark and not a Targaryen as his apprentice in the fight against the Long Night. That is significant. What has this got to do with Dany? Well, it is possible that her extreme alignment with Fire is a hint that she may become a threat to Westeros that is almost as dangerous as the WWs. It is hard to predict but it is a distinct possibility.

To be continued….

Thanks to lyannas-loves for help with the gif of Dany in the fire of the Dosh Khaleen

[dizknowzmoviezandtvshowz]

Game of Thrones Season 7 Episode 3: The Queen’s Justice

The pace continues to pick up after this week’s installment of GoT. The story continues to build upon the themes of this young season. Out with the old generation and in with the new, women are bad asses, and you should never underestimate the drive of a Lannister to pay their debts.

The Dragon has three heads

Dragonstone:

Finally after 62 episodes of the most anticipated meeting in Westerosi history, Daenerys of the House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, The Unburnt, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Queen of Meereen, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Protector of the Realm, Lady Regnant of the Seven Kingdoms, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons and Jon Snow the White Wolf and King in the North meet. Many fans predicted the ultimate arc of these two would result in the marriage of Ice and Fire (yeah I know they’re related but Targayens are into that) but we are nowhere near that yet. These two started out initially icy but seemed to be moving towards some type of common ground due to Tyrion’s counsel. The question again of what is more important comes to the forefront. Which fight will be more important this season, the fight for the Iron Throne or the Long Night?

Before we talk about everyone else here, I want to focus of Jon and his drive since last season. Though his story doesn’t seem to have changed to much his motivation definitely has. As Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, a title that was thrust upon him not one that he sought, he did what he thought was right, and he tried everything he could to bring as many people together to protect the realm from the army of the dead. He was killed for this, but the Red God R’Hllor brought him back. Since then he’s still trying to protect the realm in much of the same way, but has done so with this overhanging feeling of survivor’s guilt. In the Battle of the Bastards he charged against Ramsey’s cavalry alone. He went to Dragonstone despite his advisor’s wishes. He willingly gave up his weapons on his way to meeting the daughter of the man who burned his uncle and grandfather alive. We’ll see how the rest of this plays out for Jon.

Well before he interrupts Dany and Jon, Varys and Melisandre are speaking about the meeting that is to come. Varys speaks in his typical condescending way, while we see a much different Red Lady. She seems to be done with playing politics, but not with prophecy. She says she’s heading to Volantis where the Red God has the most followers, and adds that she will return to die on Westeros just like Varys. I want to ignore the awesomeness of that prediction, and imagine what it would mean to see her return from Volantis. Followers of R’Hllor in tow with Melisandre as they wield fire to fight White Walkers, seems like it will be epic.

Tyrion continues to play the game well, but is outsmarted again by Jaime (and I’d imagine to a much lesser extent his sister Cersei) as Dany’s camp learn of the capture of their Dornish and Greyjoy allies. He and Jon share some great conversation (”But I’m not a Stark” Jon the unknowing Targaryen says) and his brilliant plan to take Casterly Rock seems way less brilliant by the episode’s end. His plan to take the Rock went extremely well...almost too well. He continually advises the Khaleesi smartly, and seems to be the biggest fan of an alliance with Jon and the North as he ultimately convinces Dany to allow Jon to mine the dragonglass of Dragonstone.

The Citadel and the North:

At the Citadel, Sam and Archmaester Slughorn are reviewing the greyscale free Jorah the Andal. Jorah is proclaimed healthy, gives Sam his thanks, and leaves to go find his Khaleesi. Sam is meanwhile praised for saving Jorah’s life and impressed the Archmaester so much that he was not banished from the Citadel. Now I’m not too sure that greyscale will continue to play a role in the Song of Ice and Fire, but I’m sure that Sam will find more information of the Night’s King, maybe even from the transcripts and scrolls he has to make new copies of.

In the North we see Sansa succeeding in her role as Lady Regent of Winterfell. Advising on the rationing of grain supplies and blacksmithing seemed to come easy to her. Littlefinger gives her what may be her most important piece of advice when he tells her “everyone is ally, everyone is your enemy, imagine every scenario playing out. Fight everyone on all fronts” basically if you plan for everything you will never be surprised...and then Bran showed up to surprise everyone.

Bran definitely seemed serene yet distant, and this distance hurt Sansa. He turned down the notion of being Lord of Winterfell and seemed completely at peace with his role as the Three Eyed Raven. Sansa, and I’m sure plenty of us viewers, was confused by this and was heartbroken when she learned Bran knew what happened to her on her wedding night to Ramsey. Bran mentions in an almost throwaway tone mentions needing to talk to Jon. Now here’s where I break out my tinfoil hat. Bran will tell Sansa about Jon’s Targaryen lineage which Littlefinger will overhear. Somehow, Littlefinger will convince Sansa to turn on Jon (whether this means in support of Jon’s effort vs the Night’s King or from Dany I’m not sure yet) and Bran already knows of this betrayal from his visions from the Weirwoods which would explain his distance. Arya probably won’t be too happy when she arrives home to learn of all this. This is logically the last move Littlefinger has left, unless he’s working with Varys as the leak in Dany’s camp, (which is even more tinfoil-y) and will more than likely die in the North.

King’s Landing and the Reach

It is here, that the episode’s true magnificence. The divide between Cersei and Jaime seems to be written on the wall and it’s spelled E-U-R-O-N.  Euron victoriously marching his war trophies: his niece Yara, Ellaria and Tyene Sand, through the capital. Euron gives the last two Dornishwomen to Queen Cersei who is oozing with gratitude. Euron wants Cersei, both as an ally and a wife, and she knows it. The alliance is Ironclad, but Euron must wait until after the war for anything else. Cersei’s willingness to be with Euron is apparent though and Jaime sees this. This is where I still see some influence of the book series on the show. Cersei when she ascends to the height of her power begins taking on various lovers, while Jaime remains faithful throughout the series. I believe all of this is going to come to a head and Jaime will ultimately be the Valonqar from Cersei’s prophetic childhood meeting with Maggy the Frog. We also learn of Cersei’s torturous plans for the Sands, Tyene in the same way that Ellaria poisoned Cersei’s daughter Myrcella in a bit of circular justice from the Queen. Ellaria will be forced to watch her rot, and I’m sure the Mountain will be invited to play a role here. I’m hoping Bronn somehow repays Tyene and saves her life for some more “bad pussy”

Sidenote: Ellaria has way better abs than I do and I hate myself a little bit because of it 

In the reach we are “surprised” to see the bulk of the Lannister Host marching on Highgarden. Jaime, Lord Randyl Tarly, and most importantly Ser Bronn of the Blackwater easily take the castle and defeat another key ally of Dany’s. With Olenna’s death and the defeat of the Tyrells, the Lannisters masterfully consolidated their power, found resources for their army, and took out the two strongest allies of the Khaleesi. I’ve spoke to a few friends and my sister about how surprised they are by Tyrion being outsmarted by Cersei and Jaime. I disagree with this sentiment. First of all, I think Cersei is kind of an idiot. She is everything we hated about Joffrey, the same spoiled brat who was never punished by her father Tywin. Tywin was a mastermind who worked endlessly to put his family in this position, Cersei is merely benefitting from this and taking way too much credit. Jaime however I believe to be much wiser. He learned from his mistakes from fighting Robb Stark, he’s seems much more honorable than Cersei (not that it takes much) by making sure Olenna’s poison won’t be painful, he was the youngest member of the Kingsguard and he was able to gain the trust of the only man to beat Robert Baratheon in combat Randyl Tarly who seems to be much more reliable than Euron. Jaime was raised to take his father’s place as this great general, not Cersei and definitely not Tyrion. Tyrion who lucked into Bronn winning in single combat, and was saved by the Tyrells and his father at the Battle of Blackwater is no great general and it is showing. He’s read a bunch of books, chose a tactic that is obvious, and it shows.

We end with the death of Olenna Tyrell. Her death means the end of Tyrell dominance in Westeros, and the rise of the Tarly’s in the South. Her last conversation with Jaime was an amazing scene. I can’t think of a better word than gangster. They talk about Cersei and how awful she is, both as a person and for the realm. She seemed at peace with her coming death, but also sad seeing how lost Jaime was in his love for his twin (gagged a little writing that). To watch her mention poisoning Joffrey in a throwaway manner as she drinks her own death was one of the most satisfying scenes I’ve seen in a long time. I’m personally longing for a Jaime and Cersei confrontation, and hope this fuels the fire. We also learn that Jaime is using the other half of Ice, as he has Joffrey’s “Widow’s Wail” for anyone like me who wants an update of the whereabouts of all Valyrian steel weapons. 

Sansa, Jon, and Daenerys are turning away from their parents legacy/traditions, while Cersei is trying to be her father’s daughter. We’ll see how this plays out, but as I said earlier...out with the old and in with the new

RIP Olenna

Predictions for Next Week:

Dany switches up her plan, she will probably mount Drogon in battle shortly while Tyrion will redouble his efforts to recruit Jon Snow to the dragon cause

Based on the preview for next week, Jaime seems to be heading to a desert which can only mean Dorne (ugh) is coming up. Still hoping for a Bronn and Tyene union to rule down South. 

Theon shows up somewhere, presumably Dragonstone

We see the ominous dagger which will either be in the possession of Littlefinger or Arya are going to kill someone, and Sansa seems near tears either from Ramsey flashbacks or from Bran’s news.

Brace yourselves the Field of Fire 2.0 is coming

[deaneyrs]

tag drop!

[krysanthii]

Sansa stans are in thin fucking ice! Guys you don’t have to love Dany or even like her but you have to be honest with yourself that D&D ruined Daenerys Targaryen in a span of an episode! Because Dany would not do that. She wouldn’t kill men, women, and children indiscriminately set fire to the Red Keep because of fucking bells. Dany didn’t spend her entire arc from being sold as an unwilling bride to a glorified sex slave to be raped, lose a husband and her child, to be a savior, to be a queen. She was devoted to freeing the slaves of Meereen.  She wouldn’t just go berserk and set all her dreams ablaze because some Northern lords don’t like her. That she isn’t loved or appreciated! It’s weird and very OOC about her.

I can recognize bad writing when I see it and D&D killed Dany. I waited for years for Dany and Sansa to meet each other because their arcs mirror each other to a T. Both were simpering young girls taking advantage of the men in their lives to benefit them, suffered, killed their tormenters, and became the courageous women they are today!

I was team Sansa all the way when Dany stepped foot in Winterfell. It would have been awesome if we had a Sansa vs Dany conflict similar to the Avengers: Civil War! Something deeper and complex. I did not wait 8 years for “I wanna rule westeros” “but you can't rule the north” “if i don’t get what i wan’t i’ll make subtle threats of burning you alive” What? Really? Do you really think  “Daenerys of the House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, The Unburnt, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Queen of Meereen, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Protector of the Realm, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons” would give a flying fuck what Wildlings and nameless Northern lords think of her?

Why does Dany want the North so bad? She gave Yara the Iron Islands already and made her Queen. Give Sansa the North and make her a Warden.  The encounter with Dany and Sansa was pure cringe because this wasn’t Dany. Sansa is a smart woman and learned from the biggest players but Dany is well seasoned and didn’t conquer just with the might of her dragons but her cunningness, ruthlessness, and wits.

Dany would not make empty compliments, act power hungry and conniving just to take a strip of landmass that she has little to no ties too!

This is not Dany we’ve seen from 1-7 seasons. This is from some bad anti-OOC fanfic Dark!Dany. And Not very good one mind you. I would not mind if Dany went dark it's just what we got was terrible execution. You just don’t flip a switch in an instant. Walter White didn’t just go blowing up a nursing home to poisoning a child in s2. That's what it felt like with Dany by a span of an episode. I would love for Dany to break bad. Let her make questionable decisions like imprisoning Sansa or murdering some northern lords who are not willing to bend the knee. Not burn everyone to a crisp.

There is a difference between being a power-hungry dictator to a genocidal mass murderer. Let her be the final boss but you have to do it the right way. Its a total shame because we grew to love Dany, follow through her journey, her hardships to finally reach her goal and all her goodness, heroism and her legacy will be tarnished and forever ruined. Westeros and the world will forever remember her as a crazy bitch who burned Kings Landing and killed people.

[starringemiliaclarke]

Emilia Clarke, of “Game of Thrones,” on Surviving Two Life-Threatening Aneurysms

Just when all my childhood dreams seemed to have come true, I nearly lost my mind and then my life. I’ve never told this story publicly, but now it’s time.

It was the beginning of 2011. I had just finished filming the first season of “Game of Thrones,” a new HBO series based on George R. R. Martin’s “A Song of Ice and Fire” novels. With almost no professional experience behind me, I’d been given the role of Daenerys Targaryen, also known as Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Lady of Dragonstone, Breaker of Chains, Mother of Dragons. As a young princess, Daenerys is sold in marriage to a musclebound Dothraki warlord named Khal Drogo. It’s a long story—eight seasons long—but suffice to say that she grows in stature and in strength. She becomes a figure of power and self-possession. Before long, young girls would dress in platinum wigs and flowing robes to be Daenerys Targaryen for Halloween.

The show’s creators, David Benioff and D. B. Weiss, have said that my character is a blend of Napoleon, Joan of Arc, and Lawrence of Arabia. And yet, in the weeks after we finished shooting the first season, despite all the looming excitement of a publicity campaign and the series première, I hardly felt like a conquering spirit. I was terrified. Terrified of the attention, terrified of a business I barely understood, terrified of trying to make good on the faith that the creators of “Thrones” had put in me. I felt, in every way, exposed. In the very first episode, I appeared naked, and, from that first press junket onward, I always got the same question: some variation of “You play such a strong woman, and yet you take off your clothes. Why?” In my head, I’d respond, “How many men do I need to kill to prove myself?”

To relieve the stress, I worked out with a trainer. I was a television actor now, after all, and that is what television actors do. We work out. On the morning of February 11, 2011, I was getting dressed in the locker room of a gym in Crouch End, North London, when I started to feel a bad headache coming on. I was so fatigued that I could barely put on my sneakers. When I started my workout, I had to force myself through the first few exercises.

Then my trainer had me get into the plank position, and I immediately felt as though an elastic band were squeezing my brain. I tried to ignore the pain and push through it, but I just couldn’t. I told my trainer I had to take a break. Somehow, almost crawling, I made it to the locker room. I reached the toilet, sank to my knees, and proceeded to be violently, voluminously ill. Meanwhile, the pain—shooting, stabbing, constricting pain—was getting worse. At some level, I knew what was happening: my brain was damaged.

For a few moments, I tried to will away the pain and the nausea. I said to myself, “I will not be paralyzed.” I moved my fingers and toes to make sure that was true. To keep my memory alive, I tried to recall, among other things, some lines from “Game of Thrones.”

I heard a woman’s voice coming from the next stall, asking me if I was O.K. No, I wasn’t. She came to help me and maneuvered me onto my side, in the recovery position. Then everything became, at once, noisy and blurry. I remember the sound of a siren, an ambulance; I heard new voices, someone saying that my pulse was weak. I was throwing up bile. Someone found my phone and called my parents, who live in Oxfordshire, and they were told to meet me at the emergency room of Whittington Hospital.

A fog of unconsciousness settled over me. From an ambulance, I was wheeled on a gurney into a corridor filled with the smell of disinfectant and the noises of people in distress. Because no one knew what was wrong with me, the doctors and nurses could not give me any drugs to ease the pain.

Finally, I was sent for an MRI, a brain scan. The diagnosis was quick and ominous: a subarachnoid hemorrhage (SAH), a life-threatening type of stroke, caused by bleeding into the space surrounding the brain. I’d had an aneurysm, an arterial rupture. As I later learned, about a third of SAH patients die immediately or soon thereafter. For the patients who do survive, urgent treatment is required to seal off the aneurysm, as there is a very high risk of a second, often fatal bleed. If I was to live and avoid terrible deficits, I would have to have urgent surgery. And, even then, there were no guarantees.

I was taken by ambulance to the National Hospital for Neurology and Neurosurgery, a beautiful redbrick Victorian pile in central London. It was nighttime. My mum slept in my hospital ward, slumped in a chair, as I kept falling in and out of sleep, in a state of drugged wooziness, shooting pain, and persistent nightmares.

I remember being told that I should sign a release form for surgery. Brain surgery? I was in the middle of my very busy life—I had no time for brain surgery. But, finally, I settled down and signed. And then I was unconscious. For the next three hours, surgeons went about repairing my brain. This would not be my last surgery, and it would not be the worst. I was twenty-four years old.

I grew up in Oxford and rarely gave a thought to my health. Nearly all I thought about was acting. My dad was a sound designer. He worked on productions of “West Side Story” and “Chicago” in the West End. My mother was, and is, a businesswoman, the vice-president of marketing for a global management consultancy. We weren’t wealthy, but my brother and I went to private schools. Our parents, who wanted everything for us, struggled to keep up with the fees.

I have no clear memory of when I first decided to be an actor. I’m told I was around three or four. When I went with my dad to theatres, I was entranced by backstage life: the gossip, the props, the costumes, all the urgent and whispered hubbub in the near darkness. When I was three, my father took me to see a production of “Show Boat.” Although I was ordinarily a loud and antsy child, I sat silent and rapt in the audience for more than two hours. When the curtain came down, I stood on my seat and clapped wildly over my head.

I was hooked. At home, I played a VHS tape of “My Fair Lady” so many times that it snapped from wear. I think I took the Pygmalion story as a sign of how, and with enough rehearsal and a good director, you can become someone else. I don’t think my dad was pleased when I announced that I wanted to be an actor. He knew plenty of actors and, to his mind, they were habitually neurotic and unemployed.

My school, in Oxford, the Squirrel School, was idyllic, orderly, and sweet. When I was five, I got the lead part in a play. When it came time to take the stage and deliver my lines, though, I forgot everything. I just stood there, center stage, stock-still, taking it all in. In the front row, the teachers were trying to help by mouthing my lines. But I just stood there, with no fear, very calm. It’s a state of mind that has carried me throughout my career. These days, I can be on a red carpet with a thousand cameras clicking away and I’m unfazed. Of course, put me at a dinner party with six people and that’s another matter.

With time, I got better at acting. I even remembered my lines. But I was hardly a prodigy. When I was ten, my dad took me to an audition in the West End for a production of Neil Simon’s “The Goodbye Girl.” When I got inside, I realized that every girl trying out for this part was singing a song from “Cats.” The only thing I could come up with was an English folk song, “Donkey Riding.” After listening rather patiently, someone asked, “How about something more . . . contemporary?” I sang the Spice Girls hit “Wannabe.” My dad’s hands practically covered his face. I didn’t get the part, and I think it was a blessing. My dad said, “It would have been hard reading anything bad about you in the paper.”

But I kept at it. In school productions, I played Anita in “West Side Story,” Abigail in “The Crucible,” one of the witches in “Macbeth,” Viola in “Twelfth Night.” After secondary school, I took a gap year, during which I worked as a waitress and went backpacking in Asia. Then I started classes at the Drama Centre London to pursue my B.A. As fledgling actors, we studied everything from “The Cherry Orchard” to “The Wire.” I didn’t get the ingénue parts. Those went to the tall, willowy, impossibly blond girls. I got cast as a Jewish mother in “Awake and Sing!” You should hear my Bronx accent.

After graduation, I made myself a promise: for one year, I would take only roles with some promise. I made the rent working in a pub, in a call center, and at an obscure museum, telling people that “the loos are just to the right.” Seconds lasted days. But I was determined: one year of no bad productions, no plays above a bar.

In the spring of 2010, my agent called to say that auditions were being held in London for a new HBO series. The pilot for “Game of Thrones” had been flawed and they wanted to re-cast, among other roles, Daenerys. The part called for an otherworldly, bleached-blond woman of mystery. I’m a short, dark-haired, curvy Brit. Whatever. To prepare, I learned these very strange lines for two scenes, one in Episode 4, in which my brother goes to hit me, and one in Episode 10, in which I walk into a fire and survive, unscathed.

In those days, I thought of myself as healthy. Sometimes I got a little light-headed, because I often had low blood pressure and a low heart rate. Once in a while, I’d get dizzy and pass out. When I was fourteen, I had a migraine that kept me in bed for a couple of days, and in drama school I’d collapse once in a while. But it all seemed manageable, part of the stress of being an actor and of life in general. Now I think that I might have been experiencing warning signs of what was to come.

I read for “Game of Thrones” in a tiny studio in Soho. Four days later, I got a call. Apparently, the audition hadn’t been a disaster. I was told to fly to Los Angeles in three weeks and read for Benioff and Weiss and the network executives. I started working out intensely to prepare. They flew me business class. I stole all the free tea from the lounge. At the audition, I tried not to look when I spotted another actor––tall, blond, willowy, beautiful––walking by. I read two scenes in a dark auditorium, for an audience of producers and executives. When it was over, I blurted out, “Can I do anything else?”

David Benioff said, “You can do a dance.” Never wanting to disappoint, I did the funky chicken and the robot. In retrospect, I could have ruined it all. I’m not the best dancer.

As I was leaving the auditorium, they ran after me and said, “Congratulations, Princess!” I had the part.

I could hardly catch my breath. I went back to the hotel, where some people invited me to a party on the roof. “I think I’m good!” I told them. Instead, I went to my room, ate Oreos, watched “Friends,” and called everyone I knew.

That first surgery was what is known as “minimally invasive,” meaning that they did not open up my skull. Rather, using a technique called endovascular coiling, the surgeon introduced a wire into one of the femoral arteries, in the groin; the wire made its way north, around the heart, and to the brain, where they sealed off the aneurysm.

The operation lasted three hours. When I woke, the pain was unbearable. I had no idea where I was. My field of vision was constricted. There was a tube down my throat and I was parched and nauseated. They moved me out of the I.C.U. after four days and told me that the great hurdle was to make it to the two-week mark. If I made it that long with minimal complications, my chances of a good recovery were high.

One night, after I’d passed that crucial mark, a nurse woke me and, as part of a series of cognitive exercises, she said, “What’s your name?” My full name is Emilia Isobel Euphemia Rose Clarke. But now I couldn’t remember it. Instead, nonsense words tumbled out of my mouth and I went into a blind panic. I’d never experienced fear like that—a sense of doom closing in. I could see my life ahead, and it wasn’t worth living. I am an actor; I need to remember my lines. Now I couldn’t recall my name.

I was suffering from a condition called aphasia, a consequence of the trauma my brain had suffered. Even as I was muttering nonsense, my mum did me the great kindness of ignoring it and trying to convince me that I was perfectly lucid. But I knew I was faltering. In my worst moments, I wanted to pull the plug. I asked the medical staff to let me die. My job—my entire dream of what my life would be—centered on language, on communication. Without that, I was lost.

I was sent back to the I.C.U. and, after about a week, the aphasia passed. I was able to speak. I knew my name—all five bits. But I was also aware that there were people in the beds around me who didn’t make it out of the I.C.U. I was continually reminded of just how fortunate I was. One month after being admitted, I left the hospital, longing for a bath and fresh air. I had press interviews to do and, in a matter of weeks, I was scheduled to be back on the set of “Game of Thrones.”

went back to my life, but, while I was in the hospital, I was told that I had a smaller aneurysm on the other side of my brain, and it could “pop” at any time. The doctors said, though, that it was small and it was possible it would remain dormant and harmless indefinitely. We would just keep a careful watch. And recovery was hardly instant. There was still the pain to deal with, and morphine to keep it at bay. I told my bosses at “Thrones” about my condition, but I didn’t want it to be a subject of public discussion and dissection. The show must go on!

Even before we began filming Season 2, I was deeply unsure of myself. I was often so woozy, so weak, that I thought I was going to die. Staying at a hotel in London during a publicity tour, I vividly remember thinking, I can’t keep up or think or breathe, much less try to be charming. I sipped on morphine in between interviews. The pain was there, and the fatigue was like the worst exhaustion I’d ever experienced, multiplied by a million. And, let’s face it, I’m an actor. Vanity comes with the job. I spent way too much time thinking about how I looked. If all this weren’t enough, I seemed to whack my head every time I tried to get in a taxi.

The reaction to Season 1 was, of course, fantastic, though I had very little knowledge then of how the world kept score. When a friend called me exclaiming, “You’re No. 1 on IMDb!” I said, “What is IMDb?”

On the first day of shooting for Season 2, in Dubrovnik, I kept telling myself, “I am fine, I’m in my twenties, I’m fine.” I threw myself into the work. But, after that first day of filming, I barely made it back to the hotel before I collapsed of exhaustion.

On the set, I didn’t miss a beat, but I struggled. Season 2 would be my worst. I didn’t know what Daenerys was doing. If I am truly being honest, every minute of every day I thought I was going to die.

In 2013, after finishing Season 3, I took a job on Broadway, playing Holly Golightly. The rehearsals were wonderful, but it was clear pretty soon that it was not going to be a success. The whole thing lasted only a couple of months.

While I was still in New York for the play, with five days left on my saginsurance, I went in for a brain scan—something I now had to do regularly. The growth on the other side of my brain had doubled in size, and the doctor said we should “take care of it.” I was promised a relatively simple operation, easier than last time. Not long after, I found myself in a fancy-pants private room at a Manhattan hospital. My parents were there. “See you in two hours,” my mum said, and off I went for surgery, another trip up the femoral artery to my brain. No problem.

Except there was. When they woke me, I was screaming in pain. The procedure had failed. I had a massive bleed and the doctors made it plain that my chances of surviving were precarious if they didn’t operate again. This time they needed to access my brain in the old-fashioned way—through my skull. And the operation had to happen immediately.

The recovery was even more painful than it had been after the first surgery. I looked as though I had been through a war more gruesome than any that Daenerys experienced. I emerged from the operation with a drain coming out of my head. Bits of my skull had been replaced by titanium. These days, you can’t see the scar that curves from my scalp to my ear, but I didn’t know at first that it wouldn’t be visible. And there was, above all, the constant worry about cognitive or sensory losses. Would it be concentration? Memory? Peripheral vision? Now I tell people that what it robbed me of is good taste in men. But, of course, none of this seemed remotely funny at the time.

I spent a month in the hospital again and, at certain points, I lost all hope. I couldn’t look anyone in the eye. There was terrible anxiety, panic attacks. I was raised never to say, “It’s not fair”; I was taught to remember that there is always someone who is worse off than you. But, going through this experience for the second time, all hope receded. I felt like a shell of myself. So much so that I now have a hard time remembering those dark days in much detail. My mind has blocked them out. But I do remember being convinced that I wasn’t going to live. And, what’s more, I was sure that the news of my illness would get out. And it did—for a fleeting moment. Six weeks after the surgery, the National Enquirer ran a short story. A reporter asked me about it and I denied it.

But now, after keeping quiet all these years, I’m telling you the truth in full. Please believe me: I know that I am hardly unique, hardly alone. Countless people have suffered far worse, and with nothing like the care I was so lucky to receive.

A few weeks after that second surgery, I went with a few other cast members to Comic-Con, in San Diego. The fans at Comic-Con are hardcore; you don’t want to disappoint them. There were several thousand people in the audience, and, right before we went on to answer questions, I was hit by a horrific headache. Back came that sickeningly familiar sense of fear. I thought, This is it. My time is up; I’ve cheated death twice and now he’s coming to claim me. As I stepped offstage, my publicist looked at me and asked what was wrong. I told her, but she said that a reporter from MTV was waiting for an interview. I figured, if I’m going to go, it might as well be on live television.

But I survived. I survived MTV and so much more. In the years since my second surgery I have healed beyond my most unreasonable hopes. I am now at a hundred per cent. Beyond my work as an actor, I’ve decided to throw myself into a charity I’ve helped develop in conjunction with partners in the U.K. and the U.S. It is called SameYou, and it aims to provide treatment for people recovering from brain injuries and stroke. I feel endless gratitude—to my mum and brother, to my doctors and nurses, to my friends. Every day, I miss my father, who died of cancer in 2016, and I can never thank him enough for holding my hand to the very end.

There is something gratifying, and beyond lucky, about coming to the end of “Thrones.” I’m so happy to be here to see the end of this story and the beginning of whatever comes next.

Emilia Clarke, of “Game of Thrones,” on Surviving Two Life-Threatening Aneurysms was originally published on Enchanting Emilia Clarke | Est 2012

[starringemiliaclarke]

Emilia Clarke on "Game of Thrones" and her near-death experience

Emilia Clarke on “Game of Thrones” and her near-death experience was originally published on Enchanting Emilia Clarke | Est 2012

[starringemiliaclarke]

Press/Gallery: Emilia Clarke Solo Flight

  VANITY FAIR – It may be another year before Daenerys Targaryen appears on HBO, but Emilia Clarke has wrapped up shooting for the final season of Game of Thrones and is prepared for the big screen.

  On a rainy April afternoon, Emilia Clarke enters the bright, airy Egyptian galleries of the Metropolitan Museum of Art the way so many movie-lovers before her have: quoting Billy Crystal in When Harry Met Sally. Adopting the unsourceable accent Crystal uses opposite Meg Ryan in a famously improvised scene filmed in this very room, Clarke starts stuttering, “Pah-pah-paprikash.” Our amused if bewildered guide, too young to get the reference, adds the 1989 rom-com to her list of movie recommendations from Clarke, who has already gushed about the 2017 religious drama Novitiate. Chuckling over this unlikely double feature, Clarke assures her, “You have two incredible movies coming your way.”

  One reference the guide does get: Game of Thrones, the HBO juggernaut which stars Clarke as its most unstoppable heroine, Daenerys Targaryen. In fact, the very tour we’re taking, put together by a company called Museum Hack, is based on the series, and offers a fan-friendly survey of the sometimes inscrutable displays of the Met. You don’t have to be an art historian (our guide is an aspiring actress) to understand what Greek fire, Damascus blades, heraldry, mutilated men, samurai kamon, the dragon-born St. Margaret of Antioch, and an early female pharaoh have to do with wildfire, Valyrian steel, house words, and Clarke’s world-famous alter ego.

And yet, despite her fame, Clarke has managed to spend a full half-hour in the museum sponging up our guide’s trivia without being spotted. For years, Clarke’s brown hair let her hide in plain sight, but she recently bleached it an icy Targaryen blond. So, why the invisibility? Maybe it’s her height. “We both have a thing about our stature not quite being what people expect,” says her co-star Kit Harington, who, at five feet eight, has six inches on Clarke. Maybe it’s her outfit—the gray overcoat, cream sweater, and jeans are a far cry from the cloaks and armor of Thrones. Or maybe it’s her bright, decidedly non-intimidating personality. “When I’m goofing around with my pals, I’m unrecognizable,” she says. Harington calls Clarke’s humor “naughty,” and it’s certainly true that her informal, expletive-laced banter is a far cry from Daenerys’s imperious tones. “Sometimes, if I’m in a really bad mood,” Clarke notes, “people are like, ‘Khaleesi!’ ”

  Finally, the spell of anonymity breaks, thanks to a display of competitiveness worthy of Game of Thrones. Our guide has challenged us to photograph as many birds and dragons as we can find in the paintings and sculptures on the tour, and Clarke is approaching the task with her usual effervescent zeal. Standing in the shadow of a stone Hatshepsut, one of patriarchal Egypt’s first female pharaohs, she triumphantly displays one of the winged targets she has captured on her phone. “This little birdie: Boom!” she shouts, her voice ricocheting off the stone walls. A pair of young men look over, then descend, and, in thick French accents, ask for a photo. Clarke’s triumphant grin tightens into a polite, distant smile.

  There it is: the face of Daenerys of the House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, the Unburnt, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons, who, over the course of seven seasons, has climbed from powerless pawn to resolute conqueror, forcing one rival after another to “bend the knee” or burn. As Daenerys has risen, so has Clarke, morphing from a struggling actress and part-time cater waiter to an international superstar and symbol of feminine fierceness. That journey is “important and inspiring—particularly now, in our climate,” says her close friend Rose Leslie, who played the wildling warrior Ygritte in early seasons of Game of Thrones. “She’s at the forefront of representing independent women.”

  We still don’t know if, as many expect, Daenerys Targaryen will win the right to rule the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros, but we can be assured that Emilia Clarke will hang up her platinum wig for good when Game of Thrones ends its eight-season run, in 2019. There’s still a lot of filming and post-production work to be done, but Clarke has already shot her character’s final on-screen moments. “It fucked me up,” she says. “Knowing that is going to be a lasting flavor in someone’s mouth of what Daenerys is . . .”

  Clarke has good reason to feel unsettled. Letting go of a culture-defining television role can be liberating, to be sure, but it can also be deflating—or worse. Jon Hamm may always be seen as Don Draper; Sarah Michelle Gellar is forever Buffy the Vampire Slayer; Jennifer Aniston will never not be Rachel. Fortunately, Clarke approaches this pivotal transition with a stubborn insistence on behaving like a normal, grounded human being. And her upcoming credits suggest that she’s greatly in demand beyond Westeros.

  This month, Clarke, a self-described “achievement junkie,” joins the rapidly expanding Star Wars universe in Solo, a highly scrutinized origin story for Harrison Ford’s Han Solo. Her well-honed gift for concealing every detail about her work—“Everything in my life is a spoiler,” she says—helped her get into character. Director Ron Howard, a Game of Thrones fan, explains that Qi’ra, Han Solo’s childhood friend turned unreliable ally, is secretive, slippery, and morally questionable—“a much different sort of a character” from Daenerys.

  If Solo becomes a major hit, it will give Clarke a rare chance to leap cleanly from one spectacularly successful genre franchise to another. But even if it doesn’t, she has no shortage of options. An active participant in Time’s Up, she has ambitious plans to write and produce her own material—and create new opportunities for other women in the industry. Discussing those issues, she begins to sound more like the fiery Daenerys. “It becomes harder to separate you from the role when you’ve been with it so long,” she admits.

  Eight years ago, Dan Weiss and David Benioff were in trouble. Their pilot for Game of Thrones, an adaptation of George R. R. Martin’s popular A Song of Ice and Fire book series, was a disaster. Along with re-shoots, the pair were looking to re-cast a few key roles, including the pivotal part of Daenerys Targaryen. Tall, willowy, and fair-haired, Tamzin Merchant, the actress originally cast as Khaleesi, was a far more conventional match for the character on the page. The second time around, Weiss and Benioff took a fresh look at the character.

  “Emilia was the only person we saw—and we saw hundreds—who could carry the full range that Daenerys required,” the pair explained in tandem via e-mail. “Young actors aren’t often asked to play a combination of Joan of Arc, Lawrence of Arabia, and Napoleon.”

  When Clarke started on the series, Daenerys was downtrodden, occasionally objectified, and stranded in a subplot that kept the character geographically distant from the main story and the actress isolated from most of her co-stars. “I was cut off from the rest of the cast,” Clarke says. Over the years, as the famously cutthroat Thrones has thinned its sprawling ensemble, Clarke has risen in the ranks, snagging the show’s flashiest, most empowering moments.

  In an era when network and streaming platforms alike are struggling to get anyone to tune in, Game of Thrones has become one of the last surviving holdovers from the must-see TV era. For a handful of weeks every year, HBO owns Sunday nights, with devotees watching live to avoid spoilers at the office Monday morning. Clearing its own very high ratings bar, Thrones commanded an average of 32.8 million viewers in its 2017 season. Its 38 wins make it the most-awarded scripted-TV series in Emmy history.

  That glaring spotlight has made Daenerys a cultural touchstone—not to mention a costume-party staple, with Madonna, Katy Perry, Khloé Kardashian, and Kristen Bell among her many famous impersonators. At a recent charity auction, Brad Pitt offered six figures to spend an evening with Clarke and Harington, only to be outbid. Last year, Daenerys finally powered into the heart of the series, earning long-awaited screen time with Harington and the rest of the surviving stars. Clarke, who has been nominated three times for best supporting actress at the Emmys, may soon be gunning for lead honors. “Everything in my life is a spoiler,” Clarke says.

  Clarke’s upbringing in the bucolic countryside an hour outside of London couldn’t be farther from the dysfunctional family dynamics that forged the orphaned Daenerys. Emilia’s mother, Jennifer, is a businesswoman who currently runs the Anima Foundation, a charity aimed at raising awareness of specialty brain-injury care, and her father, Peter, was a theatrical sound engineer who prized education above all else. “Your bookshelf should be bigger than your TV,” he liked to remind Emilia and her older brother, Bennett. “My mum, my brother, my dad, and I would sit around a table, and my happiest place was just discussing stuff,” Emilia says. “I really value intelligence. I’m one of the very fortunate few people who really likes their family. I just like hanging out with them.”

  Clarke isn’t the first woman in her family to engage in high-stakes identity juggling. Her maternal grandmother wore light makeup to disguise the fact that she was half Indian, owing to her mother’s very secret affair with a mysterious man from the colonial subcontinent. “The fact that [my grandmother] had to hide her skin color, essentially, and try desperately to fit in with everyone else must’ve been incredibly difficult,” Clarke says. “So, yeah: history of fighters.”

  Emilia’s parents saved up to send her to a pair of upper-crust boarding schools—Rye St. Antony and St. Edward’s, both in Oxford—but she never felt at home with her much wealthier classmates. “I didn’t really fit in, like everybody who ever went to school ever.” So she channeled her energy into performing. She was rejected the first time she applied to acting school, but eventually Drama Centre London claimed her from the waiting list when another student broke her leg and dropped out. There, she finally found the “artistically inclined” friends who would keep her grounded amid the circus of international fame.

  The jet-setting Clarke clings tightly to her roots even as her life and career take her ever farther from the Home Counties. For one thing, she recently got her brother a gig in the Thrones camera department. “This job can be so alienating,” she says. “You’re in a trailer by yourself. You’re in a car by yourself. You’re in a plane. You’re in a plane. You’re in a plane. That’s what success looks like if you’re an actor. Success looks like being alone.” Clarke stays sharp by devouring “nerdy” podcasts on a range of topics from politics to science. “She’s so informed,” says Rose Leslie. “She has an opinion on every topic.”

  Clarke’s father passed away in 2016 after a long battle with cancer. At the time, Emilia was in the U.S. shooting the upcoming thriller Above Suspicion and couldn’t break away to say her final good-byes. “It still sucks. Grief sucks. He doesn’t know what I’m doing now,” she says. “That’s it before I start crying.” After a couple of romances with famous men—first, Family Guy creator Seth MacFarlane, then, reportedly, actor Jai Courtney, a brief souvenir from her Terminator Genisys shoot—Clarke swore off dating actors. In fact, she hasn’t been romantically linked in some time. When Solo premiered at Cannes, in May, she had hoped to walk the red carpet with her brother, and her goal in general is to keep her relationships out of the news. “The guys that I’ve met in my life that are dicks, I voluntarily walk the fuck away from them,” she says. “That’s just bad taste. People shouldn’t know about those choices.”

  Clarke usually appears in public with various non-famous “mates” from her drama-school days. Her “perma-plus-one” is Lola Frears, daughter of director Stephen Frears. “I ain’t got me no celebrity friends,” Clarke says. “My squad? They don’t let me get away with anything. There’s not a lot of actors I relate to.” Leslie, a rare exception to Emilia’s rule, confirms that Clarke’s longtime friends keep her in check: “There would be a ticking off or a bollocking if they felt she was no longer the lovely lady that they have always known.”

  The Star Wars tradition of featuring morally upright heroines, among them Carrie Fisher’s General Leia, Daisy Ridley’s Rey, and Felicity Jones’s Jyn Erso, was part of what drew Emilia Clarke to the role of Qi’ra in Solo, but it was the chance to break the mold that really sold her. “We’re going to hit you with a character that could very easily well be a dude, because you question her motives,” she says, sitting in a back corner of the Met’s no-frills cafeteria snacking on a pear and sipping English-breakfast tea from a paper cup. “That’s really fucking exciting in the Star Wars universe, because that has never happened.”

  Before accepting the Solo role, Clarke had to ask Game of Thrones show-runners Weiss and Benioff for permission to complicate their plans for a final season by adding a demanding Star Wars filming schedule to the mix. They didn’t hesitate. “Solo felt like a great fit that would let her show off her versatility,” Weiss and Benioff explained. “Also, we figured she’d probably get to shoot a ray gun. Ray guns are something we just can’t offer, unfortunately.”

  Swapping dragons for ray guns, Emilia Clarke was eager to prove her mettle in a whole new galaxy. But that plan hit a snag when the Solo production fell spectacularly and publicly apart. “I’m not gonna lie,” Clarke says. “I struggled with Qi’ra quite a lot. I was like: ‘Y’all need to stop telling me that she’s “film noir,” because that ain’t a note.’ ” Frustrated by the lack of direction, she turned to Solo’s father-and-son screenwriters, Lawrence and Jon Kasdan, for support. Then, four and a half months into shooting, co-directors Phil Lord and Chris Miller exited the project, citing “creative differences.” Production was put on hold until they were replaced by Ron Howard, a longtime friend of franchise creator George Lucas’s. With a brand-new director and an ambitious re-shoot schedule—Clarke reluctantly agrees when I call those first months “a high-budget dress rehearsal”—Solo still had to hit its opening date, in May of the following year.

  Clarke says Howard’s arrival “saved” the movie: “All hail to [Lucasfilm president] Kathy [Kennedy] for hiring Ron.” Slipping into a mocking impression of herself, Clarke re-enacts a self-pitying therapy session with Howard over a private meal they shared before resuming production. “He even feigned enthusiasm!” she says. “I know for a fact he had that discussion with everybody. I think we all came to set feeling like his favorite. It makes for a really happy load of actors, with our egos.”

  Howard recalls that dinner a bit differently. The former child star of The Andy Griffith Show saw in Clarke “the kind of pragmatism and a can-do spirit that often comes from people who have cut their teeth doing television.”

  “I know some of how tough it was for her,” Harington says. “But she’s pretty tough as well.”

  Clarke wasn’t privy to everything that led up to the director swap, but she wasn’t entirely surprised, either. “When it comes to that amount of money, you’re almost waiting for that to happen. Money fucks us all up, doesn’t it? There’s so much pressure. Han Solo is a really beloved character. This is a really important movie for the franchise as a whole. It’s a shit ton of money. A shit ton of people. A shit ton of expectations.”

  Solo wasn’t the first troubled blockbuster to test Clarke’s resilience. If anything, the production of 2015’s Terminator Genisys was more chaotic. She watched frequent Thrones director Alan Taylor get “eaten and chewed up on Terminator. He was not the director I remembered. He didn’t have a good time. No one had a good time.” When the film underperformed at the box office, she was “relieved” to not have to return for any sequels. News of the rocky production traveled, and Clarke says the crew on the famously disastrous Fantastic Four, which was filming nearby, even had jackets made that read, AT LEAST WE’RE NOT ON TERMINATOR. “Just to give you a summary,” she says, laughing.

  Rumors spreading between film sets is one thing, but the Solo tumult was covered exhaustively in the trades and on fan sites, adding another layer of pressure to an already pressurized project. “I hope we did it good, then, because people have all this gossip,” Clarke says. “I don’t want people to go, ‘That’s the bit where it all went wrong. That’s the bit, I know it.’ I just really hope that people have a good time, that it’s good, and, you know, selfishly, that I’m not shit and that people don’t write reviews going, ‘Oh my God, that’s, like, the worst acting I’ve ever seen in my life. Wow. How did they give her the part?’ ”

  For all her anxieties about how her performance will go over, Clarke and I are both energized by the Solo footage we’ve seen. Clarke’s easy chemistry with Donald Glover, who plays fan favorite Lando Calrissian, is evident from their very first on-screen meeting. And though her shifting allegiances mean she has to play a range of emotions opposite Alden Ehrenreich’s Han Solo, she endows every twist with an undercurrent of romantic possibility. Tonally closer to the Indiana Jones movies than to, say, Rogue One, Solo marks the franchise’s return to lighthearted, fast-paced capers.

  Clarke—who spends most Thrones battles on the backs of her C.G.I. dragons—was eager to jump into the fray with some hand-to-hand combat. “She had to deal with quite a large sword and some pretty elaborate fight choreography, and she made it look easy,” Ehrenreich says. With all the re-shoots and reconfigured plotting, she also had to fight to keep some of her favorite moments in. “That is going to be badass as fuck,” she told the filmmakers of a showstopping Qi’ra moment that made the cut. “Don’t forget your audience.”

  Long before they shared a scene together, Clarke and Harington had become friends thanks to their time on the Game of Thrones promotional circuit. It was through Harington that Clarke met Rose Leslie. An adept mimic, Clarke impersonates a “smitten” Harington mooning over his on-screen lover and future real-life fiancée in the early days of the show: “There’s the best human in the world. She’s called Rose.”

  Clarke has a teasing relationship with Harington. “I’ll tell him, ‘Kit, stop being a dick—stop being so grumpy.’ Like I would with my brother.” And as the two transition in these final seasons from real-life friends to partners in TV’s biggest romance (albeit one complicated by incest), the ribbing has only increased. “If you’ve known someone for six years, and they’re best friends with your girlfriend, and you’re best friends with them,” Harington says, “there is something unnatural and strange about doing a love scene. We’ll end up kissing and then we’re just pissing ourselves with laughter because it’s so ridiculous.”

  “She’s goofy,” Weiss and Benioff confirm. “We have tried to let some of Emilia’s humor and light seep into Daenerys whenever possible. Who says conquerors can’t be funny?” A memorable Season Four conversation between Daenerys and her right-hand woman, Missandei, concerning a eunuch’s “pillar and stones,” for instance, is much more Clarke than Targaryen. Sadly, it’s unclear how much space there will be in the show’s climactic final season for bawdy, Clarke-ish humor. “I’m doing all this weird shit,” Clarke says. “You’ll know what I mean when you see it.”

  In the final episodes of a show with a body count as high as Game of Thrones’, Clarke never really knows when she might be filming her last moments with a member of the cast. She’s also shooting for the first time with several of the show’s top stars, including Sophie Turner and Maisie Williams, who play the formidable Stark sisters.

  Clarke is well aware that the strong women of the series are leaving some kind of imprint on the culture, but she’s saving up all her big-picture reflections on Daenerys for later: “This is going to be a Band-Aid that I’m going to rip off.” To help with that process, she started keeping a daily journal of her last season. With cell phones banned from the set due to security concerns, it’s her best hope of chronicling the final days of Daenerys. Selfies are off limits, but Clarke has asked set photographer Helen Sloan to snap the occasional behind-the-scenes photo. Both the journal and the photos, Clarke hints, may be available to the show’s fans someday.

  Clarke is unsurprisingly, and contractually, evasive when it comes to specifics of the concluding six episodes. Heavy hints in the most recent season indicate that, in addition to contending with the usual climactic end-of-the-world crises, Daenerys will also be grappling with more intimate parenthood and family issues. Here, Clarke and her on-screen alter ego may have something in common. Friends like Leslie and Harington are settling down to build their own families (“Their wedding is going to be siiiiick,” Clarke says), and an old schoolmate recently made Clarke godmother to a highly photogenic baby boy who makes regular appearances on her Instagram account. She lights up when talking about him.

  Talking about her own parents evokes other emotions. The wounds from the loss of her father are still fresh, but her mother remains an inspiration. If all goes according to plan, it’s Jennifer Clarke who will provide the map for Clarke’s very first post-Thrones steps. After the show ends, Clarke plans to re-create a road trip her mother took in 1972 to Yosemite and the redwoods of Northern California. With best friend and scriptwriter Lola Frears by her side, Clarke intends to spend part of the trip working on ideas for new projects. Her agents offered to take these ideas to “guys” with writing experience, but her answer to that was pure Daenerys: “No, I’m going to take it to me.”

  Citing Reese Witherspoon, Greta Gerwig, and other actresses turned creators as inspiration, Clarke says she wants to work with as many female filmmakers as she can. As for the conventional industry wisdom that women can’t work together without infighting? “It’s fucking bullshit. It’s so annoying.” An active member of Time’s Up, Clarke negotiated with Weiss and Benioff in 2014 to ensure she maintained parity with her male counterparts. She and four co-stars—Harington, Lena Headey (Cersei Lannister), Peter Dinklage (Tyrion Lannister), and Nikolaj Coster-Waldau (Jaime Lannister)—reportedly each landed $300,000 per episode, a dazzling figure that skyrocketed to half a million per episode for the final two seasons. “I get fucking paid the same as my guy friends,” Clarke says. “We made sure of that.”

  And while Clarke would be thrilled to have her own Lady Bird or Big Little Lies, that’s not all she’s after. She says she’s “desperate” to make documentaries and shine a light on underserved causes. “That’s the shit that gets me going personally.” Inspired by her father’s cancer ordeal, Clarke is especially passionate about the risks Brexit poses to the U.K.’s National Health Service, and she was recently named ambassador to the Royal College of Nursing. “That’s something I have in common with Dae-nerys,” she says suddenly, after several hours of explaining all the reasons she and her character are nothing alike. “I really feel for people and I want to help them. Not to sound too much like Oprah Winfrey.” She pauses, and thinks again. “Fuck that, I’m gonna sound like Oprah and I’m going to be proud of it.”

  In the midst of the twin tornadoes of Star Wars and Game of Thrones, Clarke acknowledges that most of her choices these days are “studio choices.” And if Solo is a hit, Clarke could be working for Lucasfilm for years to come. But Harington sees something else in her future: “She’s done, far more than me or most people in the cast, these very high-budget, big-hitting blockbusters. Hopefully Star Wars continues for her and she does more of them. But I think she’s an incredibly talented actor, and I would love to see her do something which is a more focused character piece, because the ones she’s done are brilliant.” Clarke’s effervescent performance in 2016’s romantic weepy Me Before You—a surprise hit at the box office—hints at what she’s capable of.

  Clarke wants to stretch herself, and explore a new-media landscape where creators no longer have to rely on large companies in order to get their projects made. “Everyone can. Get your iPhone out. Let’s do something. You know what I mean?” And with 17 million followers on Instagram, Clarke has the power to make and launch her own projects. Her recent Thrones-themed fund-raising Instagram video for the Royal College of Nursing Foundation racked up more than seven million views in just three days.

  All that takes some of the heat off Clarke as she decides how to follow up roles in two of entertainment’s biggest franchises. She doesn’t necessarily need another monster hit. She can afford to take her time, listen to herself, and do something that feels true to who she is—whoever that may be.

  The most obvious evidence of the blur between Daenerys and Clarke is the relatively new shock of blond hair on her head. “I did this, which was frigging stupid,” she says, fingering the blunt-cut ends of her bleached hair.

  When Kit Harington trimmed his famous curls in 2015, fans were led to believe his character, presumed dead, wouldn’t be returning to the show the following season. (He did.) But Clarke swears her decision to go blonde has nothing at all to do with Daenerys’s fate. “I got to a point where I said I just want to look in the mirror and see something different. So I was just like, ‘Fuck it, it’s the last season. I’m going to dye my hair blond.’ ” Clarke jokes that she immediately felt remorse and bought nine baseball caps online. “But they don’t go with your outfit, so I don’t wear them.”

  Clarke’s brown hair had always been her shield. The blond hair makes it harder to slip back into her pre-fame life. Partying with her old friends is tricky because their friends get “weird” about it, and she misses the mundane pleasures of, say, running errands for her mother. “What I get most heartbroken about is that those opportunities are almost completely gone.” Then she catches herself, and apologizes for moaning about the “champagne problems” of fame. “If I were reading this, I’d be like, ‘Cheer the fuck up, love.’ ”

  Back underneath that statue at the Met, Emilia Clarke cranes her neck up to get a closer look at the ancient pharaoh’s smooth granite face. Hatshepsut wears a false beard that allowed her to pass more easily through the male-dominated world. Our guide points out a faint piece of carved string running up the pharaoh’s jawline holding the disguise in place. Thinking about it later, Clarke, who knows a thing or two about disguises, passing, alter egos, and powerful women, shakes her head in astonishment. “That is some fascinating shit right there.”

  A towering granite Daenerys statue may never find its way into the hallowed halls of the Met, but it’s not clear Emilia Clarke wants that anyway. As we duck out of the Met a bit behind schedule, only to find that it’s raining and our sleek hired car is nowhere in sight, Clarke gamely suggests we rush out into the downpour and dive into the back of a yellow cab. Our driver doesn’t recognize Clarke, either, which puts her at ease. Unsure how to get to where we’re going, he passes his smartphone to her so she can type the hotel’s address into his G.P.S. “Don’t worry, mate,” she announces. “Your little app will get us there!” A satisfied smile plays on her face as the taxi twists, turns, and bumps along. She looks happier than she ever has riding a dragon.

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  Press/Gallery: Emilia Clarke Solo Flight was originally published on Enchanting Emilia Clarke