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lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 10 months

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Tender Tragedy

Pairing: Arthur Dayne x Targaryen!Reader

Warnings: death

Words:2601

Day winding down to night, Dany took her intimate party on to her personal balcony where an iron pit sat at the center. Surrounding her great pyramid were small specks of orange light. Each one belonged to a family getting ready for slumber. Not Daenerys and her court. Their work tend to bleed into the late hours of the night. There was much work to be done in Meereen.

“Your grace.” Ser Barristan Selmy, a newly added member, holds out a jewel studded goblet to his queen.

Dany eyes the extravagance of the cup as she takes it graciously from the old knight’s hand. Growing up, such decadence was scarce for the once crown prince and princess. Viserys often complained that had Robert not started his rebellion, they would still have the Targaryen wealth that was owed to them.

Alas, Viserys’ own vanity was to be his doom. Now only Dany basked in such exquisite items.

Taking a sip of the sweet wine she had been given, Daenerys can’t resist thinking on her other siblings; those long dead. She’d had Rhaegar, her older brother, and an older sister, (y/n).

Rhaegar, the whole of the rebellion being his fault, of course had to die in order to restore order in the seven kingdoms along with the death of Aerys. That was a certainty that Dany had slowly come to acknowledge. She didn’t want to think that any fault lay on her family, but there were so many facts she couldn’t ignore. Targaryens were to blame for everything.

One thing she still couldn’t wrap her head around was why her eldest sister had to die as well. No one explained to Dany the ultimate fate of (y/n). Those like Jorah and Selmy who knew kept her in the dark.

Turning back to Selmy, she watches as he seats himself in front of the fire that gently warmed his aging joints. Jorah was next to him, speaking quietly with Grey Worm who preferred to stand at attention in case his blade was needed.

For a moment, Dany imagines how the guiding hand of a gentle, older sister might have changed her life instead of growing up with Viserys’ cruel tendencies. She grieves for what could have been.

“What happened to (y/n)?”

Her inquiry has Grey Worm and Jorah ceasing their conversation all together. Even the introspective gaze that Missandei had while listening to them had evaporated.

Selmy sadly stares at his hands. He always became melancholic when the subject of (y/n) was brought up. “I don’t think right now’s the time for that. . .”

“Then when will be? No one talks about her. Why am I not to know about her, my only sister?” Her tone of authority has them averting their gaze from her drilling eyes. Must she be stuck with the knowledge that her elder brother Rhaegar died because of the accusation of rape and knowing Viserys was a monster in his own right much like their father? Were there truly no good members of House Targaryen that were worthy of life?

Pondering for a second, Selmy heaves out a weary sigh. “It is not a happy story. Many do not want to recall what happened to your sister because she was much loved and her death devastated every corner of the Seven Kingdoms. As if enough blood hadn’t been shed already.”

“It was utterly pointless.” Jorah murmurs, his own eyes glossing over. Dany had pestered him before about (y/n), any bit of information, but Jorah stood his ground and never uttered a peep about the elder Targaryen daughter.

Quietly, Daenerys trails over to them and sits on the other side of Selmy. “What was she like? I just want to get an idea of who she is.”

That was an easier question to answer.

Light came back into Selmy’s eyes and the corners of his mouth twitch upward into a smile. “She was goodness incarnate, Your Grace. Much like yourself. And beautiful. (y/n) did much to help those suffering in the slums of King’s Landing. Was always trying to make things better and was an excellent problem solver. She was a burst of life in the Red Keep. Everyone thrived in her presence.”

So why was she too a casualty of the rebellion. Dany would tread lightly to that question. “Did she ever marry? She was very close to Rhaegar in age, right?” She’d be at the perfect age where young ladies were often pawned off to other influential families. Even Daenerys had been married to Khal Drogo when she was just ten and three.

Jorah chuckles at that. “Oh many tried. She was considered the perfect match. Constantly being hounded by old and young lords alike. Marrying her off though had never been Aerys’ top priority when his mind started to rot.”

“He never thought of marrying (y/n) to Rhaegar?” It was Valyrian tradition to wed one sibling to the other. Many generations of the Targaryens had kept the practice alive despite the negative views the Sept had toward it.

“It had been discussed.” Selmy admits. “Maybe if he had done that to begin with, we could have avoided war. But. . . (y/n) had already pledged her love to someone else.”

Ser Arthur carefully scans his surroundings in the hallway to make sure no one saw or followed him to the destined rendezvous point. When he seemed to be completely by himself, he closed the door and turned to face you. Patiently awaiting him on the foot of the bed with a wide grin.

He’d mentioned many times how he’d never, in a million years, get used to the sight of your smile and the way it illuminated your lavender eyes. Beacons that entangle Arthur in a trap he had no plan to escape from.

You stand and dissolve the small distance between you in a blink of an eye. Your hands, soft and smelling of the sweetness of spring, grab his cheeks to pull him down to your starving lips.

Arthur was all too ready to comply.

“She was in love with the Sword of the Morning, Ser Arthur Dayne.” He remembers Ser Arthur with the utmost fondness, but their relationship had been doomed from the very start. Selmy had been there when Arthur was sworn into the Kingsguard. Even by then the boy was completely enraptured by Princess (y/n).

Dany, listening intently, originally this of this as a perfect story from some old fairytale . A princess and her lover knight, a classic. But (y/n)’s story did not end happily ever after.

Missandei holds Dany’s hand. She too had a sense of where this kind of story was going.

“So great was their affections for one another, it was quite obvious to everyone around them. During tourneys, Arthur would ask for her favor. The dances before the war, they would dance with each other. When war finally broke out, we found (y/n)’s chambers empty. Arthur, before joining Rhaegar’s forces, spirited the princess out of the Keep.”

You jolt to a stop as Arthur held out an arm to stop you from advancing. You’d been crawling along the shadows in the corridors of the Keep as Arthur led you hall after hall to evade any guards. Like hell he’d leave you behind. What he was doing was punishable by death but he didn’t care.

Thinking the coast had been clear, you’d almost gone around the corner but Arthur’s better trained ears heard someone coming.

He holds you close to his side so that your cheek was pressed against his armor and you were partially hidden under his cloak. You didn’t breathe for fear of discovery.

Whoever it was walked right past you, none the wiser. Both of you release your breath simultaneously. Even if someone had caught you, Arthur wouldn’t hesitate to kill them; even if it was his own brothers from the guard. They no longer mattered anymore.

A single touch from Arthur had you jumping and he chuckling. He’d only reached out for your hand. He brings it up to his lips and gives your knuckles the most gentle of kisses.

Finally you smile as he coaxes you along.

At this point, Selmy pauses to quench his parched mouth and ignite the courage required to continue with the story. He wished it ended there, (y/n) and Arthur escaping and happily living out the rest of their days somewhere in Essos.

Dany as well as the others drink from their cups.

“Of course this caused such a rage in Aerys. (Y/n) tended to have stubborn strike, but for the most part she had been obedient to Aerys. It was the quite the blow to him that his treasured daughter had escaped with one of his personal guards.”

Aerys had sent whatever manpower he could spare to look for (y/n) and Arthur.

“They remained elusive for several months. But one day while Arthur was gone to fight in a battle, Rhaegar’s defenseless camp had been attacked. They dragged (y/n) out by force.”

You’re pretty sure your scream pierced a few of your assailants’ ear drums.

Someone grabbed a fistful of your silver hair and nearly rips your skull from your neck. Even though it caused you unspeakable pain, you fight and claw at any inch off vulnerable skin you could dig your nails into.

They curse at you, crown Targaryen princess, and treat you with outstanding abuse you had never experienced before.

You could taste the rusty burst of blood trickling out from your split lip. Feel the boning of your corset imprint itself into your torso as they beat you into unconscious submission. These could not possibly be natives to the Crownlands. Possibly someone Aerys had paid off. No person, knowing who you are, would ever treat you in such a manner. Whether you were the Mad King’s daughter or not.

Fight had fled from you as they hoist you onto the back of an awaiting horse. They keep their eyes open to scan the area once more before leaving. There was no sign of the Sword of the Morning.

Silent tears spring into your vision as you watch Rhaegar’s plundered camp consumed by flames.

Your captors waste no time and heed their mounts to move faster.

“(Y/N)!!!”

Your eyelids try to flutter open at the sound of Arthur’s voice stretching over miles. It was impossible.

Hooves cease to beat and quietly stop at the approaching figure. Men in armor dismount and brandish their swords. Arthur was greatly outnumbered.

His battle had been far away from the camp yet there was Arthur sizing up his chances as he hops off of his own war horse.

“Yield, Ser Dayne.” One called out to him. “The king wants you alive.”

Eyes that could have passed off for Targaryen flick over to you and a knife that had suddenly appeared tauntingly against your throat. You stay absolutely still unless the blades gives you its sharp kiss. The only way you could keep your fear at bay was to keep your gaze focused on Arthur’s eyes. Wisteria filled pools calm your racing heart although you knew there was still much for you to fear.

Arthur dropped the great sword of his house, Dawn, in front of his feet in surrender.

Countless knights descend upon him and bind his limbs in chains. It would not do to have a knight of Arthur’s caliber have any access to his limbs.

He’d be compliant as long as they kept the two of you together.

“Couldn’t Ser Arthur have taken them on? I’ve constantly heard of his mastery with the sword and how he was like no other.” To Dany, the infamous Sword of the Morning gave up quite easily.

Every line on Selmy’s face seems to deepen. “Alas, Arthur was still but a human. He knew when to pick his battles. This was not one he could’ve ever won by himself.”

He knew he must tie off the story of (y/n) Targaryen and Ser Arthur Dayne. Anyone could imagine the torture Aerys put his daughter and Arthur through before their actual death. They accepted their fate with their hand’s holding the other’s.

(Y/n) didn’t she a tear when she glared at her father as he read out their punishment. She kept her head held high as did Arthur. That’s how Selmy wanted to remember them. Not their grotesque corpses that had been left.

From the older man’s reaction, Daenerys knew she’d learned enough as her own tears spill over her bottom lashes.

Next to her, Missandei hastily wipes a stray tear from the corner of her eye. Her hand was trembling in Dany’s as they support one another.

From a hidden pocket, Selmy sighs and pulls out a leather drawstring pouch. “After. . . After they had died, Aerys wanted their remains to be tossed like common trash. Instead we properly buried them. However. . . Before all remnants of her life was scrubbed from the world, I saved this one piece of her.”

Once placed in her hands, Dany tentatively pulls open the pouch and pulls out a silver locket. Engraved into its metal were beautiful flowers. Each petal captured with intricate details. In the center was tucked a large pink pearl.

Dany opens it, her eyes instantly round and glisten. “I-Is this. . .” Her gaze falls back onto the contents of the locket. Inside was a perfectly curled lock of silver hair. Targaryen hair.

“Before she died, Aerys had her head shaved for further humiliation.” Selmy whispers.

Softly Dany pets the soft piece of hair. The only part of her sister she’ll ever know.

Shutting the locket with a gentle hand, Daenerys holds it close to her heart.

The strong beating of Arthur’s heart had nearly lulled you to sleep. His arm slung around you, daring anyone to put you in separate cells.

They granted you this one last request.

Aerys wouldn’t let you and Arthur live. Both of you accepted that when you were captured. The Mad King didn’t take prisoners of war.

At least you had one last night with him. To be held in his arms and gifted kisses upon the crown of your head. This was all you had ever asked for.

The Few months you’d spent with him evading Aerys had been the happiest. If this was the price you had to pay for it then so be it. You’d finally experienced true happiness

“(Y/n)?”

“Hmm?”

You shift in his hold to look up at his gorgeous face. The man was a work of art and possessed the looks of old gods of the sun. Despite the sultry pout of his full lips, Arthur had always been dedicated to you; no other woman had ever held such sway over him in his entire life. Sweet as it was he’d even tried his hand at poetry to try and explain how much he truly loved you. It was awful but to you it was your dearest possession.

All over again, you fall in love with him from the way he gazed down at you with naked love.

“Being with you has completed my life. No matter how short a time we had. I’d do it all over again knowing this would be the price.”

You blink back tears but it’s useless. His image is blurry. “M-Me too. Knowing that you love me and you’re here…”

Arthur caressed the side of your face and pressed his forehead to your’s.

Whatever what happened when the sun rose, you’d have no regrets.

#Arthur Dayne #arthur dayne fanfiction #arthur dayne x reader #arthur dayne fanfic #reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #game of thrones #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones fanfic #Game of Thrones fandom #ASoIaF #asoiaf fandom #asoiaf fanfiction #asoiaf fanfic #asoiaf fic #A Song of Ice and Fire #a song of ice and fire fanfiction #a song of ice and fire fanfic #A Song of Ice and Fire fandom

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grcnseer · 2 years

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W.I.D

The following content does not limit the type of requests I accept. If there is a topic or character that is not listed, but you wish to have included feel free to ask! If I’m ever uncomfortable with something I will simply deny the request.

Note :: I do not write character x character unless the reader is included as well. Poly, threesomes, etc are all welcomed in that regard!

WRITING

Fluff

Smut

Angst

Yandere

Violence

Dub-Con

Non-Con

Polyamory

Incest (obv it’s asoiaf)

Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

CHARACTERS

Game of Thrones

Brienne of Tarth

Cersei Lannister

Daenerys Targaryen

Euron Greyjoy

Gendry Baratheon

Grey Worm

Jaime Lannister

Jon Snow

Margaery Tyrell

Missandei

Oberyn Martell

Petyr Baelish

Podrick Payne

Roose Bolton

Sandor Clegane

Sansa Stark

Stannis Baratheon

Theon Greyjoy

Tormund Giantsbane

Tyrion Lannister

Tywin Lannister

House of Dragon

Aegon II Targaryen

Aemond Targaryen

Alicent Hightower

Cregan Stark

Daemon Targaryen

Erryk Cargyll

Harwin Strong

Helaena Targaryen

Jacaerys Velaryon

Larys Strong

Otto Hightower

Rhaenyra Targaryen

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jimblejamblewritings · 2 years

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snow falls hot | part 11.

Summary: (Y/N) Snow isn’t a Snow at all. She’s a Targaryen— Rhaegar’s child. Taken in by the Starks, she leads her life as another on of Ned’s bastards. Will she be able to live in Westeros comfortably? More importantly, does she have any ambition to see herself one day on the Iron Throne?

Warnings: it’s game of thrones…

Pairing: gendry x reader

Word Count: 5.2k

Previous Part | (Series Masterlist)

The hall began to clear out. There was nothing left to discuss— Daeny would rule six kingdoms in Westeros and her lands in Essos, the North was yours. While you wanted to catch up with the Starks, there was one more issue more pressing. Those left in the room all saw a woman that didn’t match the stories they heard or the girl they actually knew. You were unrecognizable yet familiar.

Tyrion and Jaime let your words sink in— the Lannisters did this to you. You were a soft girl when they had met you years ago in Winterfell. You wanted to live your life, no interest in the crown and ruling because you thought being alive was more important than your birthright.

A sweet girl who put family and duty first. A girl who just wanted to stay in Winterfell and be a Snow with the hopes of becoming a Stark. And when you got that hope, it was killed. Stabbed to death at their family’s hands and this is what you had become. Still soft but the hardened edges were there for all to see. The hardened edges that made you accept your real name and announce to the world that you were a Targaryen and you wouldn’t let them break you again.

Daenerys saw her brothers, both Viserys and Rhaegar. You had the bite of Viserys. The conviction of someone who believed themselves destined for great. She saw the same squared off shoulders and head held high. The way your eyes looked down on everyone, even those taller than you. Eyes that dared someone to try and deny you your place. The same confidence that had him declare himself as The Last Dragon. But where his confidence bordered on arrogance, yours bordered on poise.

That must have been Rhaegar. She had only heard stories of her brother but from what she heard you also seemed to embody. The eyes of Viserys that dared anyone to say you weren’t a ruler were the same eyes of Rhaegar that hypnotized people into declaring you one. Your head held high also tilted to the side, letting people know you wanted to listen to them. Like Rhaegar, you were loved. Your power was that you held others’ love. The North had thought you dead and the moment you appeared they remembered how much you cared for them and they cared for you.

Bran, more Three-Eyed Raven than Brandon Stark, smiled at the new woman in front of him. The princess promised, come back to them. A million scenarios, a thousand times trying to rewrite time, hundreds of years gone by. He had seen it all. Seen the chance that you died. Not physically but in your soul. Targaryens were magic, like the Three-Eyed Raven. There was always a part of you he could never quite pin down and when Robb Stark died there was a chance you died with him. Rhaegar’s death poked a hole in your soul. Ned’s death made the pinprick hole spider and crack. When you thought Bran and Rickon were dead, before Rickon truly did die, parts of your porcelain soul began to fall off. The moment Catelyn and Ned Stark decided to dye your hair and protect you as their bastard was the moment the Starks held your heart in their hands. They covered the fire warming your heart in snow.

And as you got older, they entrusted Robb Stark as the future Lord of Winterfell to keep your heart warm. He did too well a job. Not just wrapping it in the furs of his cloak but holding it so close as if it was his own heart. And when his heart stopped at the Twins, there was a good chance yours could have as well. But you put yourself back together. From afar, Bran watched you restart fires to become Azor Ahair.

Grey Worm, Missandei, the Dothraki, Jorah Mormont, and Varys wouldn’t voice what they saw when they looked at you. Because to voice it would be to indirectly pick a side. They saw you a leader. The ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. Your eyes were as deep as the Wall was tall, holding magic and knowledge and horror they could not imagine. The price of being a just queen was steep and you paid it. Paid it to try and save all of them.

Tormund, Theon, Sam, and Brienne would gladly voice your praise if the others weren’t so tense. No obligation, they were fine picking a side. Because the ruler in front of them was obvious as the side they believed in. The one who addressed everyone the same, no one less than or greater than another. Welcomed the Free Folk without even a question, made a knight out of a lady without hesitation.

Arya and Sansa believed you to be the same. Their elder sister. But you were also different. So many times to be someone else and you never took it. Snow, Targaryen, Stark. They were all just names to you. What mattered was that you were a child of Winterfell. Always taking care of them and comforting them. Someone could dare say you didn’t deserve to be Queen in the North and the two women would cut them down. Because you were one of the most deserving.

Every step of your life you sacrificed for Winterfell. Every time you thought you found happiness, it had to be given away for the sake of others. Even now— you were their queen because Robb was dead. Even if he was alive, you would still be their queen because you were the only one to block Daenerys from ever taking the North. Your very existence, bringing up, marriage, and child made you the protector of Winterfell. With Grey Wind at your command, they saw (Y/N) Targaryen Stark. Stark. The most important part because you were always one of them.

To Gendry, you were breaking. He wondered how many times the people in the room had truly seen you relaxed and with your guard down. He suspected, truly, only Jon. Because for the longest you two had the bond of bastards and stuck together. He suspected everyone else that had seen it was dead. Ned, Catelyn, Robb, Rickon. You were guarded. Even with those close, you had to be guarded because for the longest you had secrets to keep. Your smile wasn’t completely carefree— he had seen what a carefree one looked like. He had seen it when you admired his bull helmet in the smithy.

He saw it every time you visited under the guise of needing more arrowheads despite the fact a servant could get it for you. One day he withheld the arrowheads from you until you confessed you came down because you enjoyed talking to him. The way, when it was just the two of you in the smithy, you told him your biggest secret. When you were cornered by Jaime Lannister— another man who at one point did have the trust of seeing your guard down— you had run straight to the smithy after.

You told him because you trusted him like you trusted Jon. It was the bond of bastards. Gendry Waters would never tell your secret because if Gendry Waters said anything about (Y/N) Snow, he would be speaking as Gendry Baratheon. As a Baratheon, he was at the same danger of being killed by Lannisters that you faced as a Targaryen. A sigh had left your mouth and a weight lifted off of your shoulders when you told him. He promised to protect it, with a kiss on your hand. A secret he promised to protect was one you just shared with the entire world. And instead of a weight being lifted off, Gendry saw it crushing you.

You would never be the girl who snuck out to see the blacksmith ever again. The carefree smile would forever be replaced with the measured smile of a ruler. Perhaps behind closed doors, your son would see it. Maybe even Jon— bastards forever stuck together. Gendry wanted to make sure you had someone else you could let see it too. Maybe he could remind you of what it was like to just be the girl in billowy dresses that looked out of place in a blacksmith’s shop.

“We need to talk,” you said.

Everyone moved to stand up, Grey Wind as well, but you shook your head. With hesitation and confusion, they slowly sat down. They assumed with the way you spoke that you wanted to discuss battle or something else that you felt the hall was too large and impersonal for.

“Eddard, go with everyone else. Okay, darling? I think Sansa and Arya would love to show you all around Winterfell.”

They realized your gaze never left Jon the entire time you made the request. Eddard nodded and stood up, going back to Sansa. Jon stood up as well and started to walk into another room. You took the wolf pin off of your dress and slammed it on the table. Out of respect, the others started to leave the hall to avoid listening in on you and Jon’s conversation. Grey Wind was the only one who stayed as he guarded the door you had walked through.

“I just need to know. Who are you? To me, who do you consider yourself to be?” you asked.

Jon crossed the small threshold between the two of you and enveloped you in a hug. He patted your head before returning to the bone-crushing embrace.

“If I say who I am, it threatens her.”

“It threatens me, not her. And I don’t care, I’d never feel threatened by you.”

Jon shook his head slightly. “There are two realms now. You are Queen in the North, she is Queen of the Six Kingdoms. My birthright says I inherit the second realm. I threaten her and make us open for attack. The alliance becomes shallower than it already is.”

“Then make your intentions known. You’ve never wanted to be a king.”

“Did you ever want to be queen? And not Lady of Winterfell, you wanted to love Robb. Did you ever want to rule?”

You stayed silent because he was right. Being a ruler was never a consideration you had until after Ned’s death. Even then, it became a byproduct because Robb was going to be king. Becoming queen on your own was never in your vocabulary before. And yet, here you were.

There was nothing saying Jon wouldn’t have been thrusted into the same role if he came forward. Jon searched your eyes that weren’t focused on him and started to frown. Where others couldn’t see, he could reach the bottom of the cliffsides. He could see exactly what you were thinking and feeling. Jon cupped your face in both hands to stop you from looking anywhere but at him.

“I am your brother. Not Ned Stark’s son, not bonded by being a bastard. I am your younger brother, Aegon Targaryen. Outside private walls I must be Jon Snow. To you and Eddard, I can be Aegon— for everyone else, they don’t get to see it.”

“Aegon… it doesn’t even sound right in my mouth,” you said with a sad chuckle. Jon laughed too.

“(Y/N), I am your family. Whether Ned or Rhaegar, we have always shared a father and been outsiders. All I wanted was family, true family… I have a sister, a nephew. I will always be on your side and the entire Seven Kingdoms can burn if I must do it to keep you safe. A name I was given at birth could bring you death. For that, it is not a name I want.”

“You are always d…”

Your eyes rolled white. Of course Jon had seen warging before and had seen magic Bran did but this was different. It always looked so passive but your look read of horror. Whatever you were seeing showed on your face. He held onto you, unsure of what to do when your eyes suddenly returned.

“The rest of our family must know.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Arya, Sansa. No one else but we owe it to them. We are all Starks.”

Jon nodded, knowing you saw something that made you want him to speak. If it was just Sansa and Arya, he could do it. Daenerys couldn’t consider it a betrayal because they were his family— his cousins. And he intended to go back to Jon Snow. Nothing was betrayal, it was simply duty.

“Jon?” you asked hesitantly.

“(Y/N)?”

“I’m still unsure of my magic, especially of things from right after Robb died. Anything before I left for Valyria really. Sometimes not all of it comes true, sometimes it’s a warning and if you can avoid it then you are safe… I see my brother in front of me, but I saw him die as well.”

Jon gave a sad smile before it broke into one of real happiness as he recalled something. “I broke my promise to you. You said when I left for the wall that you would kill me yourself if I died, I’m sorry to say but the Night’s Watch beat you to it.”

You hit him in the chest and he laughed. Eventually, you did as well. You two exited the room with laughter and as you walked through the courtyard of Winterfell, everyone could tell something was shared between you guys. It was something that hadn’t been seen in a while, the last time they could remember would be when you and Jon were fifteen. The two bastards of Winterfell that walked around like they owned the place and were laughing about something no one else would ever get to know— of course, it was realized months later when it was finally discovered that you and him took the blame for Robb and Arya placing sheep’s dung in people’s mattresses.

You smiled at faces you hadn’t seen in years and at new ones. Some gave you passive looks but others like Tormund had accepted you right away. You were aware of the eyes of Tyrion and Varys who you were sure what they were assessing you for. Eddard had gone off with his aunts and the way they saw Robb in him, you were sure your sisters wouldn’t hand your son back until evening. The smile on your face grew larger when you saw Brienne and disappeared when you realized Jaime was by her side. They stopped in front of you and Jon.

“Ser Brienne, it is lovely to see you again.”

“Your Grace.” She smiled. “I am not actually a knight yet, I will probably never be knighted.”

“I don’t believe that. When the dead are defeated, you will be knighted without another day going by.”

She nodded in thanks and you let your eyes wander over to Jaime. He watched your eyes gloss over his face, his hand, the sword that was formed from Ned’s sword. Jaime looked over you as well. He could only see the damage he had done. When your eyes finally met his, he felt a shame wash over him that he hadn’t felt in a while.

“You never told anyone my secret, Ser Jaime. For that I could thank you.”

He swallowed as he thought back to the dungeons of King’s Landing. When he had you pinned to the dragon skull. Looking at you that day, Jaime had decided he could get along with you. Get along enough that he could agree to Tywin and Robert’s insistence on marrying you.

“But then you let your father’s men try to kill me and for that I want to slit your throat.”

“We were at war.”

“We were guests in someone’s home. You let your father behave in a way no one does even in war and they attempted to slaughter our house. Killed most of our men, murdered my husband, and tried to kill me and my unborn baby. Why? And it couldn’t be because of just war.”

Even Jaime knew that actually was wrong to do what they had done. He couldn’t retort, or try to defend himself just so he wouldn’t be the old selfish Jaime. He looked around— Jon and Brienne slightly uncomfortable at witnessing the interaction.

“Your Grace—”

“I didn’t know you considered me your queen. I’m surprised Cersei doesn’t think it u—”

“Your Grace, will you walk with me.”

It wasn’t a question but a statement. You pursed your lips before letting them relax and moved away from your brother. Jaime, knowing it was tense, did not try to grab your arm or any of the sorts. He stayed side by side in line with you, but nothing more. It felt strange to see your Winterfell in the midst of preparing for battle. As you and Jaime walked the place was familiar but not at the same time. Empty spaces now filled with supplies. Jaime cleared his throat and spoke.

“I know what you think of me. I know I have lost the little trust you ever had in me but I did not agree with or know about my father’s plan at The Twins.”

“And yet I don’t believe you.”

“Your Grace, understand me. Try to understand me, please. Does that sound like a thing I would do?”

“I’m not sure, Kingslayer.”

Jaime didn’t care anymore about how you would feel about it. He grabbed your hand and forced you to look at him.

“I am a knight of the Seven Kingdoms. Everything I did when it came to my life was for the realm. The only selfish thing I did in my life was laying with my sister because I could. Your grandfather died because he killed Ned Stark’s father and brother and wanted to kill everyone else. I let everyone call me names because I knew it was for the good of everyone else.”

“Ser Jaime…”

“But I remember the dungeon and asking you to never call me that name again. Because I couldn’t have my wife view me as a monster. I was ready to marry you and retire to Casterly Rock to help keep peace between houses and preserve the realm.

“I left with Brienne to try and give you Arya and Sansa and ask for an alliance with your King in the North. I am a knight and stood by honor, no matter what you think of me. What happened at House Frey was appalling and it will never make up for it but you must understand I am sorry.”

You couldn’t say anything.

“And now I am here to fight for the living because again it has always been about the realm. And when you defeat them, it won’t be done.”

“It will be.”

“No. You and your aunt will march on King’s Landing and take it from Cersei and I know you will win. I know that she will destroy the realm and you need to step fully into your birthright.”

“I’ve promised—”

“I don’t frankly give a damn what you promised because what I say is true. Daenerys will be bad for the realm, Cersei is bad, Robert was bad and so was Aerys. Rhaegar had a chance and now his daughter does. I failed in protecting the realm through alliances and marrying you. But I am still a knight, allow me to revive the realm and be in your Queensguard.”

“I’m sorry?”

You looked in shock as he bent the knee. Those around— including Tyrion, Danerys, Jon, Brienne, and Varys— looked in shock as well. Jaime glanced up at you. He was the same man from the dungeons. The one who kept your secret when he had nothing to gain from it, had more to gain by telling Robert the truth.

It made you wonder, did he plan on telling everyone when you two were married? When they couldn’t touch you because he was your husband? Because then the alliance would be stronger. The Lannisters, Targaryens, Baratheons, and Starks would all be connected through marriage. It would be harder to tear the realm apart when you tear apart family.

“You are still a Kingslayer,” you started.

Jaime hung his head, thinking nothing would work. You extended a hand and, with surprise, he took it to stand up.

“But when the king is a tyrant, that is a title to wear with honor. Because the only way you can bring justice to a king is through death so you did what had to be done. I can respect that.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

“Do you really want to be my Queensguard? It means staying here, in the cold.”

“I would like to be a knight again.”

“Alright, but Brienne is head.”

He nodded with a small smile. You looked around for Eddard, not seeing him or the other Starks. Dismissing Jaime, you continued to explore Winterfell’s preparations. The dead would be there soon. The cold suddenly became hot and you knew that you were near the blacksmith stations. The sounds of metal and glass clinking and clanking was also an indicator. Your feet continued to walk even without you consciously telling them where to go.

“Hi.”

The man looked up from his work with a snap of his head. Gendry gave you a half smile.

“You making the rounds? Seeing everyone you missed?”

You nodded. The silence was awkward. On your end, not Gendry. He kept working and waited patiently for you to speak while you were learning that, just like Eddard, you had to readjust to being in the company of people. Gendry let his eyes wander from his work back to your face. You stood straighter than he had ever seen— he was waiting, wondering when you would finally speak. Instead, you looked at the weapons plans on his table. You pointed to one of the designs on top.

“Is this for Arya?”

So this is how you would start talking— Gendry could work with that. “Yeah, how did you know?”

“She went to Braavos, became no one. No one in Westeros has a weapon like this or would think to use one. I know my younger sister.”

Gendry nodded in understanding. He watched you continue to thumb at the pages, eyes focusing on nothing and tongue occasionally darting out to wet dry lips. Everything became more interesting but him. Gendry pointed to your head.

“I like the crown.”

“Thank you, it’s from Valyria… How have you been?”

“I’ve been well, Your Grace.”

“Please don’t call me that.”

“It’s your title.”

“It’s a wall…”

Gendry watched the facade slip for a moment. He could see the reason you came over. Not just to check up on everyone you had missed. You would have moved on to find Theon or your sisters by now if that was the case. He took a chance and grabbed your hand.

“I missed you,” he cut you off. “When I had to leave for the Night’s Watch. I missed you coming to the blacksmith every other night. Talking to you. Unless you do not feel the same. If you don’t miss me we can forget this ever happened, Your Grace.”

“Didn’t I just say I don’t like you saying that,” you said, your tone joking.

“Would you like it better if I called you beloved? Do you remember when I used to call you that, when we dreamed of running away.”

The corners of your mouth dropped. “He used to call me that… this isn’t fair to you, I don’t know why I stopped by.”

You walked away. Gendry quickly rounded the table that separated you. He watched your head turn this way and that to try and stop tears from falling without wiping them away. Ever the ruler, you couldn’t let them see you cry.

He finally reached you as you reentered the castle. Jon’s dire wolf, Ghost, walked by with Sam but the corridor was empty aside from that. As if he could sense the tension, Sam quickly made himself scarce. Gendry reached for your hand and you stopped— you stopped and let him back you up against the wall.

“It is taking everything in me not to kiss you.”

“Please d…”

“I haven’t seen you in a few years but I don’t feel any different.” He gently stroked your cheek.

“I wanted to leave with you, spend my old life with someone I cared about. Then there was a chance to be with Robb and I took it because I thought everything was being taken from me that I deserved it. And then he was taken from me too. Robb is dead and I can’t seem to move on enough. It isn’t fair to ask you to try and go back to our time in King’s Landing. Not when I already have a child, when I can’t give you me entirely. Do you care that Eddard exists?”

“What? No.”

“Do you care that Eddard, Robb’s child, would be ahead in birthright and heir to Winterfell before yours would?”

“None of that matters.”

“The North will need for nothing between the alliance with my aunt and my travels to Old Valyria. Eddard is a true Stark and Targaryen, a legitimate claim for them. He is of both bloods so the Southern Realm couldn’t try to force the North to join them when I am gone. He might even join the Kingdoms and that doesn’t bother you?”

“You are being defensive. Talk to me as if you aren’t Queen in the North. Just tell me, what do you want? You, not the Queen.”

“Gendry…”

“Forget the entire Seven Kingdoms.”

“Gendry. Do you know how much loneliness eats at you? I’ve been alone before, in King’s Landing especially. But it was never lonely, those are two different things. I’m not alone anymore but you are a Baratheon and that would make me such… to protect the North, I must stay a Stark forever. It’s a name I’ve married into— and now it is lonely.”

“Then make me a Warden of the North. My father, in all my life, never made me a Baratheon. Queen Daenerys only did so to stop me ever considering usurping her. In your kingdom, you haven’t even legitimized a single person. I can be a Warden of the North, mark myself a Stark and never look back.”

You laughed a short huff of disbelief.

“You are suggesting taking my husband’s last name. Effectively, my last name? No man would ever agree to shed their own for their wife. You think you are okay with it now until they can’t remember you were ever a Baratheon.”

“You know, it’s actually I who wouldn’t be fair to you,” he said.

“I’m sorry?”

“In Daenerys’ kingdom, I am Lord Baratheon and I would tie you to the Six Kingdoms. The North wouldn’t be independent. Here, in your kingdom, I’m a bastard and can give you nothing— no lands, not much money. What I am is a man with no name and no banners. As Queen in the North to have your heart and nothing to give back is the real crime. That is why I wouldn’t be fair to you, not the other way around, Your Grace.”

“I thought I—”

“I will call you by your formal title, Your Grace, because that is what has to be done to keep a wall between us. You want to rationalize everything to try and convince me not to love you for your kingdom. To start, a wall around your heart and mine are needed.”

Gendry took off your crown and placed it in your hands. All you did was sigh as you stared at it and yet he could hear the weariness in your voice. He began to undo the braids that kept your hair in it’s half-up half-down style.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“Shh…” His fingers worked quickly.

“I demand,” you started and Gendry had a small smile at the shakiness in your voice. “you not to call me Your Grace again.”

“You demand?”

“Yes, as your queen.”

Gendry smirked. “My queen?”

You let him continue what he was doing until all your hair was down. Gendry brought some of the white hair forward.

“There.”

“There what?”

“Now you aren’t my queen. You aren’t the Queen in the North, not a queen at all. Now you are (Y/N) Targaryen Stark. Your crown is off, your hair is down and you have no subjects to rule. I’m not looking at a queen but at a woman and I want to know what she wants.”

“To be selfish. To have the bastard in my kingdom who has given me his heart, even if there is nothing for the kingdom to gain from it. Gendry…” you whispered as he got closer.

He was already on you before he moved, now his body was flush up yours. Gendry pressed his forehead to yours and you two just stood there for a moment. His fingers traced down the front of your dress, noting the fastening clasps went down the entire garment. You sucked in a breath and he watched your eyes close under his touch. His left hand moved to rest on the small of your back. His other undid a single clasp. Your eyes opened when Gendry stopped, flitting down to where his hand disappeared in the small break of fabric. His fingers lightly touched you once and your hips bucked slightly.

“Please let me be selfish.”

His lips barely brushed against yours and then crashed onto them all at once. Your hand still holding the crown wrapped around the back of his neck while the free hand grabbed at his robes. Gendry pushed you more into him— the hand in your dress began moving. Your breaths came out shallow and Gendry stopped kissing you for a moment to just watch your face scrunch up in pleasure. Broken words came out between moans before he swallowed them with his own mouth— enjoying the softness of your lips.

“Your Grace—”

You and Gendry pulled apart quickly. Jon and his Night’s Watch friends— Ed, Sam, and Tormund— had their jaws dropped in mild shock. You turned around, in embarrassment, to close the open clasp on your dress. Your hand darted up to put your crown back on as you tried to forget what they had all just seen you less than decent. The crown was the best you could do, your braids were already taken down.

“Your Grace,” Ed said. “They’ve started planning for battle in the council room, we were sent to get you.”

“Right, of course. Where’s Eddard?”

“With my wife, Gilly, and son,” Sam answered.

You responded with a nod. You looked at Gendry out of the corner of your eye and started to walk off. The rest of the men followed you. Jon cleared his throat and you looked at him. His head turned back before facing the front again and a smirk appeared on his face.

“The blacksmith?”

You pushed him and that just made him and the others laugh more.

(Part 12)...

#game of thrones fic #asoiaf fic #gendry x reader

114 notes · View notes

istumpysk · 2 years

Text

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ADWD: Daenerys II (Chapter 11)

"Who is that weeping?"

"Your slave Missandei." Jhiqui had a taper in her hand.

"My servant. I have no slaves." Dany did not understand.

lmfao.

Not again! Don't you hate it when your own slaves servants don't play along??

"No. Your Grace, forgive this one her outburst. Your slave's name is Missandei, but . . ."

"Missandei is no longer a slave. - Daenerys III, ASOS

There will be more if we remain. The slaves are weak from the march."

"Freedmen," Dany corrected. "They are slaves no longer." - Daenerys V, ASOS

+.+.+

"How many dead?"

Reznak wrung his hands. "N-nine, Magnificence. Foul work it was, and wicked. A dreadful night, dreadful."

Nine. The word was a dagger in her heart.

+.+.+

Grey Worm answered. "Your servants were set upon as they walked the bricks of Meereen to keep Your Grace's peace. All were well armed, with spears and shields and short swords. Two by two they walked, and two by two they died. Your servants Black Fist and Cetherys were slain by crossbow bolts in Mazdhan's Maze. Your servants Mossador and Duran were crushed by falling stones beneath the river wall. Your servants Eladon Goldenhair and Loyal Spear were poisoned at a wineshop where they were accustomed to stop each night upon their rounds."

Poisoned. . . arrows?

I'm probably being paranoid again, but crossbow bolts had me instantly thinking about dragons and scorpion bolts, so I'm including this to be safe.

+.+.+

"Your servants have arrested the owner of the wineshop and his daughters. They plead their ignorance and beg for mercy."

They all plead ignorance and beg for mercy. "Give them to the Shavepate. Skahaz, keep each apart from the others and put them to the question."

"It will be done, Your Worship. Would you have me question them sweetly, or sharply?"

"Sweetly, to begin. Hear what tales they tell and what names they give you. It may be they had no part in this."

Wait for it.

+.+.+

"Nine, the noble Reznak said. Who else?"

"Three freedmen, murdered in their homes," the Shavepate said. "A moneylender, a cobbler, and the harpist Rylona Rhee. They cut her fingers off before they killed her."

[...]

"We have no captives but this wineseller?"

"None, this one grieves to confess. We beg your pardon."

Mercy, thought Dany. They will have the dragon's mercy. "Skahaz, I have changed my mind. Question the man sharply."

"I could. Or I could question the daughters sharply whilst the father looks on. That will wring some names from him."

"Do as you think best, but bring me names." Her fury was a fire in her belly.

Didn't have to wait long!

Just a little bit of torture, no big deal guys.

I wonder how old those daughters are? She never asked.

+.+.+

"I will have no more Unsullied slaughtered. Grey Worm, pull your men back to their barracks. Henceforth let them guard my walls and gates and person. From this day, it shall be for Meereenese to keep the peace in Meereen. Skahaz, make me a new watch, made up in equal parts of shavepates and freedmen."

No more of my valuable soldiers dying. My freedman can die instead.

+.+.+

Skahaz, make me a new watch, made up in equal parts of shavepates and freedmen."

"As you command. How many men?"

"As many as you require."

Reznak mo Reznak gasped. "Magnificence, where is the coin to come from to pay wages for so many men?"

"From the pyramids. Call it a blood tax. I will have a hundred pieces of gold from every pyramid for each freedman that the Harpy's Sons have slain."

That tells me the Unsullied are not being paid.

+.+.+

That brought a smile to the Shavepate's face. "It will be done," he said, "but Your Radiance should know that the Great Masters of Zhak and Merreq are making preparations to quit their pyramids and leave the city."

Daenerys was sick unto death of Zhak and Merreq; she was sick of all the Mereenese, great and small alike. "Let them go, but see that they take no more than the clothes upon their backs. Make certain that all their gold remains here with us. Their stores of food as well."

Excuse me?

+.+.+

"Magnificence," murmured Reznak mo Reznak, "we cannot know that these great nobles mean to join your enemies. More like they are simply making for their estates in the hills."

"They will not mind us keeping their gold safe, then. There is nothing to buy in the hills."

"They are afraid for their children," Reznak said.

I was reading chapter discussions on westeros.org, and some people thought Reznak was acting suspicious here.

This is not suspicious. This is a level-headed man saying things that need to be said. This is what good counsel looks like.

+.+.+

Yes, Daenerys thought, and so am I. "We must keep them safe as well. I will have two children from each of them. From the other pyramids as well. A boy and a girl."

"Hostages," said Skahaz, happily.

Thanks to Ned and Robb I can't roast her ass for this.

A ward in name, a hostage in truth. Half his days a hostage . . . but no longer. - Theon I, ACOK

Additionally, the Lannisters shall deliver ten highborn hostages, to be mutually agreed upon, as a pledge of peace. These I will treat as honored guests, according to their station. So long as the terms of this pact are abided with faithfully, I shall release two hostages every year, and return them safely to their families. - Catelyn I, ACOK

Thanks guys. Way to go.

+.+.+

"Your Grace is kind to this one." Missandei slipped under the sheets. "He was a good brother."

Dany wrapped her arms about the girl. "Tell me of him."

"He taught me how to climb a tree when we were little. He could catch fish with his hands. Once I found him sleeping in our garden with a hundred butterflies crawling over him. He looked so beautiful that morning, this one … I mean, I loved him."

"As he loved you." Dany stroked the girl's hair. "Say the word, my sweet, and I will send you from this awful place. I will find a ship somehow and send you home. To Naath."

"I would sooner stay with you. On Naath I'd be afraid. What if the slavers came again? I feel safe when I'm with you."

From three brothers down to one. :(

That's the second time this offer has been put forward.

"I shall keep you by my side to speak for me as you spoke for Kraznys. But you may leave my service whenever you choose, if you have father or mother you would sooner return to." - Daenerys III, ASOS

Naturally I can't find a source for it right now, but the original plan on the show was for Missandei to abandon Daenerys, and return to Naath. Hmmm.

I don't have enough for a theory, but I would not be surprised if Missandei finally accepts this offer, and Daenerys doesn't take it well.

+.+.+

She was the blood of the dragon. She could kill the Sons of the Harpy, and the sons of the sons, and the sons of the sons of the sons. But a dragon could not feed a hungry child nor help a dying woman's pain. And who would ever dare to love a dragon?

No one.

+.+.+

She found herself thinking of Daario Naharis once again, Daario with his gold tooth and trident beard, his strong hands resting on the hilts of his matched arakh and stiletto, hilts wrought of gold in the shape of naked women. The day he took his leave of her, as she was bidding him farewell, he had brushed the balls of his thumbs lightly across them, back and forth. I am jealous of a sword hilt, she had realized, of women made of gold. Sending him to the Lamb Men had been wise. She was a queen, and Daario Naharis was not the stuff of kings.

"It has been so long," she had said to Ser Barristan, just yesterday. "What if Daario has betrayed me and gone over to my enemies?" Three treasons will you know. "What if he met another woman, some princess of the Lhazarene?"

Daario and his two women.

The thing about Cersei's paranoia is that every once in awhile she's correct. So. . . parallels? :D

+.+.+

The old knight neither liked nor trusted Daario, she knew. Even so, he had answered gallantly. "There is no woman more lovely than Your Grace. Only a blind man could believe otherwise, and Daario Naharis was not blind."

+.+.+

A bath will help soothe me. She padded barefoot through the grass to her terrace pool. The water felt cool on her skin, raising goosebumps. Little fish nibbled at her arms and legs. She closed her eyes and floated.

A soft rustle made her open them again. She sat up with a soft splash. "Missandei?" she called. "Irri? Jhiqui?"

"They sleep," came the answer.

A woman stood under the persimmon tree, clad in a hooded robe that brushed the grass. Beneath the hood, her face seemed hard and shiny. She is wearing a mask, Dany knew, a wooden mask finished in dark red lacquer. "Quaithe? Am I dreaming?" She pinched her ear and winced at the pain. "I dreamt of you on Balerion, when first we came to Astapor."

"You did not dream. Then or now."

"What are you doing here? How did you get past my guards?"

"I came another way. Your guards never saw me."

Uh oh! Someone got past the guards, and snuck up on Daenerys!

Why does Quaithe keep doing that??

She is standing over me. "Who's there?" Dany peered into the darkness. She thought she could see a shadow, the faintest outline of a shape. - Daenerys III, ASOS

WHAT DOES IT MEAN?

+.+.+

"Are you here?"

"No. Hear me, Daenerys Targaryen. The glass candles are burning. Soon comes the pale mare, and after her the others. Kraken and dark flame, lion and griffin, the sun's son and the mummer's dragon. Trust none of them. Remember the Undying. Beware the perfumed seneschal."

"Reznak? Why should I fear him?"

Oh god, here we go.

The glass candles are burning.

Is Quaithe using a glass candle? Is this a Marwyn warning? Is this a Citadel warning? Is this a Samwell/Alleras warning?

I don't know.

Soon comes the pale mare, and after her the others. Kraken and dark flame -> lion and griffin -> the sun's son and the mummer's dragon.

These are grouped together, and it's implied she will encounter these people in the order it's presented.

The pale mare.

The bloody flux. This is also one of Daenerys's three mounts.

Many were sick, most were starved, and all were doomed to die. Daenerys dare not open her gates to let them in. She had tried to do what she could for them. She had sent them healers, Blue Graces and spell-singers and barber-surgeons, but some of those had sickened as well, and none of their arts had slowed the galloping progression of the flux that had come on the pale mare. - Daenerys VI, ADWD

Kraken and dark flame.

Victarion (kraken) and Moqorro (dark flame) are travelling together to Meereen.

Victarion donned a tall black warhelm, wrought in the shape of an iron kraken, its arms coiled down around his cheeks to meet beneath his jaw. - The Iron Captain, AFFC

His skin was black as pitch, his hair as white as snow; the flames tattooed across his cheeks and brow yellow and orange. - Tyrion VIII, ADWD

Interesting fact of the day, this was changed from the original draft.

The glass candles are burning. Soon comes the pale mare, and after her the others. Crow and kraken, lion and griffin, the sun's son and the mummer's dragon. Trust none of them. Remember the Undying. Beware the perfumed seneschal.

It used to be Euron and Victarion.

You might disagree, but I think taking Euron out suggests the author doesn't want Daenerys to know which kraken she shouldn't be trusting.

Lion and griffin.

At the moment, Tyrion (lion) and Jon Connington (griffin) are also travelling to Daenerys.

It's guaranteed Tyrion will convince Daenerys to let him serve her, which probably means she'll conclude the lion is Jaime and/or Cersei Lannister. Small problem, the lion is in fact Tyrion, and he will betray her.

Kind of starting to look like Daenerys might assign these warnings to the wrong people, eh?

Why, isn't that exactly what Cersei's doing with her own prophecy? Crazy!

The sun's son and the mummer's dragon.

Quentyn Martell (the sun's son) and Aegon Targaryen VI (the mummer's dragon).

Oops, wait a minute.

Why are these two characters grouped together?

Quentyn Martell is the first person to meet Daenerys, why has the order suddenly changed?

Why is Quentyn Martell the sun's son instead of the sun like every other character represented by their sigil?

"We will not be alone. Dorne will join us, must join us. Prince Aegon is Elia's son as well as Rhaegar's." - The Lost Lord, ADWD

Elia's son... I would weep for joy if some part of my sister had survived, but what proof do we have that this is Aegon? - Arianne I, ADWD

"I... it would give great joy to my father if Elia's son were still alive. He loved his sister well." - Arianne I, ADWD

Why is Quentyn Martell untrustworthy? We have Quentyn's internal monologue, we know his motivations. He's no threat to her. They meet, and he dies. Why would she be warned about him?

Daenerys, who is notoriously awful at interpreting prophecies and warnings, believes Quentyn is the sun's son. Why am I not questioning that?

She told me of the Dornish prince as well, the sun's son. She told me much and more, but all in riddles. - Daenerys VIII, ADWD

Could it be that the author intends for Daenerys to be deceived? Could it be that Aegon VI is actually the sun's son and not Quentyn Martell?

But then who would be the mummer's dragon?

<- Jon III

It is too cold for this mummer's show, thought Jon. "The free folk despise kneelers," he had warned Stannis. "Let them keep their pride, and they will love you better."

It was the girl who held them here, Lord Eddard's blood, but the girl was just a mummer's ploy, a lamb in a direwolf's skin. - A Ghost in Winterfell, ADWD

God, I wonder.

Moving on.

Beware the perfumed seneschal.

Tell me, was Selaesori Qhoran a triarch or a turtle?"

The red priest chuckled. "Neither. Qhoran is … not a ruler, but one who serves and counsels such, and helps conduct his business. You of Westeros might say steward or magister."

King's Hand? That amused him. "And selaesori?"

Moqorro touched his nose. "Imbued with a pleasant aroma. Fragrant, would you say? Flowery?"

"So Selaesori Qhoran means Stinky Steward, more or less?"

"Fragrant Steward, rather."

Tyrion gave a crooked grin. "I believe I will stay with Stinky. But I do thank you for the lesson." - Tyrion VIII, ADWD

Should I be looking for stinky instead of perfumed? Should I be looking for sweet things or foul ones?

Is the trading cog Selaesori Qhoran (Fragrant Steward) that's carrying Jorah Mormont, Moqorro, and Tyrion something I should be considering?

Ser Jorah stood behind her sweltering in his green surcoat with the black bear of Mormont embroidered upon it. The smell of his sweat was an earthy answer to the sweet perfumes that drenched the Astapori. - Daenerys III, ADWD

Is it Reznak? (No. She thinks it's Reznak.)

Is it Varys? Is it Illyrio? Is it another perfumed steward?

I don't know.

+.+.+

What do you want of me, Quaithe?"

Moonlight shone in the woman's eyes. "To show you the way."

"I remember the way. I go north to go south, east to go west, back to go forward. And to touch the light I have to pass beneath the shadow." She squeezed the water from her silvery hair. "I am half-sick of riddling. In Qarth I was a beggar, but here I am a queen. I command you—"

I go north to go south -> Sansa [Unreliable narrator Daenerys, it's to go north, you must journey south.]

east to go west -> Arya

back to go forward. -> Bran

And to touch the light I have to pass beneath the shadow. -> Jon

What do you want of me, Quaithe?

You already know my feelings on this. Quaithe never helps Daenerys in any way. Similar to Maggy the Frog, she only confuses her, and fills her head with paranoid thoughts. My god, every time she appears she seemingly mocks Daenerys with her own death. How can this person possibly have good intentions? This is not her friend.

Also, it's kind of starting to remind me of something else.

He saw traitors everywhere, and Varys was always there to point out any he might have missed. - Jaime V, ASOS

With Varys whispering in his ear, King Aerys became convinced that his son was conspiring to depose him - The Kingbreakers, ADWD

+.+.+

"Daenerys. Remember the Undying. Remember who you are."

"The blood of the dragon." But my dragons are roaring in the darkness. "I remember the Undying. Child of three, they called me. Three mounts they promised me, three fires, and three treasons. One for blood and one for gold and one for …" [↓ ↓ ↓]

"Your Grace?" Missandei stood in the door of the queen's bedchamber, a lantern in her hand. "Who are you talking to?"

Kudos to @sherlokiness for picking up on this hilarious pattern.

She was Daenerys Stormborn, the Unburnt, khaleesi and queen, Mother of Dragons, slayer of warlocks, breaker of chains, and there was no one in the world that she could trust. [↓ ↓ ↓]

"Your Grace?" Missandei stood at her elbow wrapped in a bedrobe, wooden sandals on her feet. - Daenerys VI, ASOS

+.+.+

"Who are you talking to?"

Dany glanced back toward the persimmon tree. There was no woman there. No hooded robe, no lacquer mask, no Quaithe.

A shadow. A memory. No one.

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

She let them get a long way ahead, then went creeping after them. Quiet as a shadow. - Arya III, AGOT

"And who are you, child?"

"No one." - Arya II, AFFC

+.+.+

She was the blood of the dragon, but Ser Barristan had warned her that in that blood there was a taint. Could I be going mad?

Yes.

+.+.+

When Reznak and Skahaz appeared, she found herself looking at them askance, mindful of the three treasons. Beware the perfumed seneschal. She sniffed suspiciously at Reznak mo Reznak. I could command the Shavepate to arrest him and put him to the question. Would that forestall the prophecy? Or would some other betrayer take his place? Prophecies are treacherous, she reminded herself, and Reznak may be no more than he appears.

I've got to say, none of this is terribly subtle.

Younger and more beautiful, she said. ". . . another queen, who would take from me all I loved."

"And you wish to forestall this prophecy?"

More than anything, she thought. - Cersei VIII, ADWD

I'd be willing to bet a lot of money that Reznak will not be safe around Daenerys for much longer.

+.+.+

Dany grimaced. Even her own people would give no rest about the matter. Reznak mo Reznak stressed the coin to be made through taxes. The Green Grace said that reopening the pits would please the gods. The Shavepate felt it would win her support against the Sons of the Harpy. "Let them fight," grunted Strong Belwas, who had once been a champion in the pits. Ser Barristan suggested a tourney instead; his orphans could ride at rings and fight a mêlée with blunted weapons, he said, a suggestion Dany knew was as hopeless as it was well-intentioned. It was blood the Meereenese yearned to see, not skill. Elsewise the fighting slaves would have worn armor. Only the little scribe Missandei seemed to share the queen's misgivings.

[...]

"Your Radiance has seven gods, so perhaps she will look upon my seventh plea with favor. Today I do not come alone. Will you hear my friends? There are seven of them as well." He brought them forth one by one. "Here is Khrazz. Here Barsena Blackhair, ever valiant. Here Camarron of the Count and Goghor the Giant. This is the Spotted Cat, this Fearless Ithoke. Last, Belaquo Bonebreaker. They have come to add their voices to mine own, and ask Your Grace to let our fighting pits reopen."

[...]

One by one, each of them asked her to let the fighting pits reopen. "Why?" she demanded, when Ithoke had finished. "You are no longer slaves, doomed to die at a master's whim. I freed you. Why should you wish to end your lives upon the scarlet sands?"

"I train since three," said Goghor the Giant. "I kill since six. Mother of Dragons says I am free. Why not free to fight?"

I have no real comment, but it's important information for the future.

+.+.+

"If it is fighting you want, fight for me. Swear your sword to the Mother's Men or the Free Brothers or the Stalwart Shields. Teach my other freedmen how to fight."

Goghor shook his head. "Before, I fight for master. You say, fight for you. I say, fight for me." The huge man thumped his chest with a fist as big as a ham. "For gold. For glory."

Did he just say the men who fight for Daenerys aren't fighting for themselves? Lol.

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Daenerys felt trapped. "And the losers? What shall they receive?"

"Their names shall be graven on the Gates of Fate amongst the other valiant fallen," declared Barsena. For eight years she had slain every other woman sent against her, it was said. "All men must die, and women too … but not all will be remembered."

Yay it's back!

I checked, she doesn't have the next chapter.

+.+.+

Dany had no answer for that. If this is truly what my people wish, do I have the right to deny it to them? It was their city before it was mine, and it is their own lives they wish to squander.

No.

+.+.+

Ser Barristan escorted her back up to her chambers. "Tell me a tale, ser," Dany said as they climbed. "Some tale of valor with a happy ending." She felt in need of happy endings. "Tell me how you escaped from the Usurper."

"Your Grace. There is no valor in running for your life."

Dany seated herself on a cushion, crossed her legs, and gazed up at him. "Please. It was the Young Usurper who dismissed you from the Kingsguard …"

Would that make Jon, Sansa, Arya, Bran, and Rickon the Young Usurper's Dogs?

+.+.+

"Joffrey, aye. They gave my age for a reason, though the truth was elsewise. The boy wanted a white cloak for his dog Sandor Clegane and his mother wanted the Kingslayer to be her lord commander. When they told me, I … I took off my cloak as they commanded, threw my sword at Joffrey's feet, and spoke unwisely."

"What did you say?"

"The truth … but truth was never welcome at that court.

Wait for it.

+.+.+

I was gathering my things when it came to me that I had brought this on myself by taking Robert's pardon. He was a good knight but a bad king, for he had no right to the throne he sat.

Tells you a lot about Barristan Selmy that that's the reason why he believes Robert was a bad king.

You couldn't possibly prepare yourself for what comes next.

+.+.+

That was when I knew that to redeem myself I must find the true king, and serve him loyally with all the strength that still remained me."

"My brother Viserys."

Yeah, wow. Speaking of bad kings.

And don't think for a second he didn't know.

Prince Viserys was only a boy, it would have been years before he was fit to rule, and . . . forgive me, my queen, but you asked for truth . . . even as a child, your brother Viserys oft seemed to be his father's son, in ways that Rhaegar never did. - Daenerys VI, ASOS

I hate Barristan Selmy. What a loser.

+.+.+

The day Lord Stark lost his head, I was there, watching. Afterward I went into the Great Sept and thanked the seven gods that Joffrey had stripped me of my cloak."

"Stark was a traitor who met a traitor's end."

"Your Grace," said Selmy, "Eddard Stark played a part in your father's fall, but he bore you no ill will. When the eunuch Varys told us that you were with child, Robert wanted you killed, but Lord Stark spoke against it. Rather than countenance the murder of children, he told Robert to find himself another Hand."

"Have you forgotten Princess Rhaenys and Prince Aegon?"

"Never. That was Lannister work, Your Grace."

"Lannister or Stark, what difference?

The truth … but truth was never welcome at that court.

+.+.+

"Lannister or Stark, what difference? Viserys used to call them the Usurper's dogs. If a child is set upon by a pack of hounds, does it matter which one tears out his throat? All the dogs are just as guilty. The guilt …"

Have you lost your tongue?

I believe she was about to say the guilt lies with those who give the command, and those who follow their orders.

Mercy, thought Dany. They will have the dragon's mercy. "Skahaz, I have changed my mind. Question the man sharply."

+.+.+

The guilt …" The word caught in her throat. Hazzea, she thought, and suddenly she heard herself say, "I have to see the pit," in a voice as small as a child's whisper. "Take me down, ser, if you would."

Oops, someone remembered they have their own dogs.

That's progress! Usually the glaring hypocrisy flies right over her head.

+.+.+

The servants' steps were the quickest way down—not grand, but steep and straight and narrow, hidden in the walls.

You have no idea how excited I got.

Nothing developed.

+.+.+

What sort of mother lets her children rot in darkness?

If I look back, I am doomed, Dany told herself … but how could she not look back? I should have seen it coming. Was I so blind, or did I close my eyes willfully, so I would not have to see the price of power?

Reading this and knowing she'll free them is so fun.

+.+.+

Viserys had told her all the tales when she was little. He loved to talk of dragons. She knew how Harrenhal had fallen. She knew about the Field of Fire and the Dance of the Dragons.

Oh good, you have the blueprint.

+.+.+

And there were songs beyond count of villages and kingdoms that lived in dread of dragons till some brave dragonslayer rescued them.

I can't wait!

+.+.+

At Astapor the slaver's eyes had melted.

I was waiting for an Azor Ahai hint, and the author did not disappoint.

<- Jon III

Once Azor Ahai fought a monster. When he thrust the sword through the belly of the beast, its blood began to boil. Smoke and steam poured from its mouth, its eyes melted and dribbled down its cheeks, and its body burst into flame.

+.+.+

Her name had been Hazzea. She was four years old. Unless her father lied. He might have lied. No one had seen the dragon but him. His proof was burned bones, but burned bones proved nothing. He might have killed the little girl himself, and burned her afterward. He would not have been the first father to dispose of an unwanted girl child, the Shavepate claimed. The Sons of the Harpy might have done it, and made it look like dragon's work to make the city hate me. Dany wanted to believe that … but if that was so, why had Hazzea's father waited until the audience hall was almost empty to come forward? If his purpose had been to inflame the Meereenese against her, he would have told his tale when the hall was full of ears to hear.

The name will be forgotten by the end of the book.

And at some point in TWOW she'll no longer believe the father.

Subscribe to my Patreon for more obvious predictions a child could make.

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The Shavepate had urged her to put the man to death. "At least rip out his tongue. This man's lie could destroy us all, Magnificence." Instead Dany chose to pay the blood price. No one could tell her the worth of a daughter, so she set it at one hundred times the worth of a lamb. "I would give Hazzea back to you if I could," she told the father, "but some things are beyond the power of even a queen. Her bones shall be laid to rest in the Temple of the Graces, and a hundred candles shall burn day and night in her memory. Come back to me each year upon her nameday, and your other children shall not want … but this tale must never pass your lips again."

"Men will ask," the grieving father had said. "They will ask me where Hazzea is and how she died."

"She died of a snakebite," Reznak mo Reznak insisted. "A ravening wolf carried her off. A sudden sickness took her. Tell them what you will, but never speak of dragons."

Robb Stark with the comeback victory!

"No word of this must leave Riverrun," her brother Edmure said. "Lord Tywin would . . . the Lannisters pay their debts, they are always saying that. Mother have mercy, when he hears."

Sansa. Catelyn's nails dug into the soft flesh of her palms, so hard did she close her hand.

Robb gave Edmure a look that chilled. "Would you make me a liar as well as a murderer, Uncle?" - Catelyn III, ASOS

All of this reminds me of something.

"A folly," sighed Tyrion. "When you tear out a man's tongue, you are not proving him a liar, you're only telling the world that you fear what he might say." - Tyrion III, ACOK

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Once, not long ago, he had ridden on her shoulder, his tail coiled round her arm. Once she had fed him morsels of charred meat from her own hand. He had been the first chained up. Daenerys had led him to the pit herself and shut him up inside with several oxen. Once he had gorged himself he grew drowsy. They had chained him whilst he slept.

Rhaegal had been harder. Perhaps he could hear his brother raging in the pit, despite the walls of brick and stone between them. In the end, they had to cover him with a net of heavy iron chain as he basked on her terrace, and he fought so fiercely that it had taken three days to carry him down the servants' steps, twisting and snapping. Six men had been burned in the struggle.

This is the second time we're getting Rhaegal fighting in chains coming off a Jon chapter.

Rhaegal could sense something wrong as well. Thrice he tried to take wing, only to be pulled down by the heavy chain in Jhiqui's hand. - Daenerys III, ASOS

Not to mention that juicy chapter transition.

+.+.+

And Drogon …

The winged shadow, the grieving father called him.

I can't tell if this is a coincidence or not. Too many shadows in this story, including Ghost.

<- Jon III

Jon watched Stannis descend from the platform, with Melisandre by his side. His red shadow. She never leaves his side for long.

Melisandre being Stannis's Drogon is hilarious.

+.+.+

He was the largest of her three, the fiercest, the wildest, with scales as black as night and eyes like pits of fire.

Um, did he mean to do that?

She was the smallest of the litter, the prettiest, the most gentle and trusting. She looked at him with bright golden eyes, and he ruffled her thick grey fur. - Eddard III, AGOT

I'M WHEEZING.

+.+.+

Drogon hunted far afield, but when he was sated he liked to bask in the sun at the apex of the Great Pyramid, where once the harpy of Meereen had stood. Thrice they had tried to take him there, and thrice they had failed. Two score of her bravest had risked themselves trying to capture him. Almost all had suffered burns, and four of them had died. The last she had seen of Drogon had been at sunset on the night of the third attempt. The black dragon had been flying north across the Skahazadhan toward the tall grasses of the Dothraki sea. He had not returned.

He won't be chained! He won't be restrained! They can't control the dragon!

ha HA, get it??

+.+.+

Mother of dragons, Daenerys thought. Mother of monsters. What have I unleashed upon the world? A queen I am, but my throne is made of burned bones, and it rests on quicksand. Without dragons, how could she hope to hold Meereen, much less win back Westeros? I am the blood of the dragon, she thought. If they are monsters, so am I.

If the shoe fits.

Only a monster would give a living child to the flames. - Jon I, ADWD

Final thoughts:

That was almost as funny as a Cersei chapter.

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#operation stumpy re-read #adwd #daenerys ii

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