Shackled and Chained | closed | regishiberna

While he was still yet here, something urged him to speak. “My father did what he had to. If you know the tales of the war then you know what Prince Rhaegar did as well, Daenerys.” He spoke firm, as if to be heard. “Before you chain me away, hear me out. Think of yourself in a position of my father. Your beloved sibling has just been stolen away or ran away with the Heir to the Iron Throne. My father loved his family, and If I knew him well enough, he would have died for his House—as he did when Joffrey Baratheon took his head.”

His head tilted again, watching her with some insight of intrigue. “I cannot and will not speak for any other man but those I can call my blood—even half. House Stark has always done what they have felt right. Familial love may have guided my father into being a traitor in your eyes, but I do not think he bore your house truly ill will—only those who had done wrong to his sister, father, and brother.”

With those words, he finished speaking.  His head fell forward, hair falling over his face. He was now subject to be just another servant to her. It drew disgust to his features, but he quickly masked that into nothing but a plain look. He only looked up to look at Daenerys again, only to catch a glimpse of a familar shape in the distance. Ghost, who only watched from far away, was safe from the Dragon Queen’s grip.

This brought a brief smile to his face, which faded when he was adjusted—likely about to be moved.

She whipped back around at his words, bells in her braid ringing as her hair swung about her, her eyes purple fire.  "A brother did not go to war for a sister; a brother went to war for his friend.  Do not lie, Jon Snow -- Eddard Stark followed Robert Baratheon into battle because he had lost the woman he loved.  A woman, if the tales are true, who was willful by nature and harder to tame than those direwolves of your house.  He rose against his king, fathered a bastard, and here you are before me, the woman who holds your life in her hands, with your protestations that it was what he had to do?  Mayhaps I would have gone to war for my brother; but he is dead and the past is done."   No ill will borne her from the Stark?  She could have laughed then; all the Usurper and Stark had done her life was chase her, try to kill her.  All of them bore her ill, wanted her dead.   "Take him to my quarters," she commanded, straightening her back and trying to control herself in the wake of her slip of emotion.  

+maimedlion

                   ❝ — Putting an end to the man who raped and abused your mother;          who sat gleefully as innocents lost their lives to his ‘champion’. Fire; he was obsessed          with it - but do not dareto place me alongside those of whom rape and slaughter           babes and children. I had no part in the fate which Elia and her children met;                          and it would be wise were to cease speaking                         on that which you know entirely naught of.❞

"I have only your Lannister word, your honour as a knight when 'Kingslayer' echoes around you and follows you from place to place like a bloody shadow -- forgive me, for I hold little store in the oaths of men who do naught but break them. You say you have nothing to do with the slaughter of innocents -- but it was your family's men, your father's command, that slew my family, my siblings, and, had I not escaped, myself, though I were still suckling at my mother's breast.  A wise man once told me that there lies a beast in the breast of every man and it stirs when he is given a sword; so tell me, ser, finding enjoyment in such acts or not, how can I find you anything but guilty?  A madman my father may have been, but he was your king; they say your nephew -- or even bastard, if rumours are to be believed -- is no less mad than my father.  Would you slay him? He who's blood runs in your veins, the current Mad King upon the throne? Or would you sit and let him slaughter innocents like lambs, his claim unjustified by incest and bastardy?   You slay one ruler willingly in the name of justice, shall you slay the other?  An eye for an eye, Ser Jaime."

(via shittyteenblog)

six word story (via exnatura)

having siblings is weird bc like one minute u want to strangle them with their own intestines and then later ur singing dramatic duets together

     ”On behalf of the Northern kingdom,      a warm welcome home, Your Grace.”      Skirts fanned in a deep curtsy,      well-matched to the silvery queen’s      station. Rumors of her kindness      carried over the Narrow Sea, yet the      stains of past crimes were often      difficult to scrub away.

               Rising up, Tully blue met Targaryen                violet, strong without daring the                boldness of one comfortable upon                her own throne. Many miles lay                between Winterfell and King’s Landing,                and Stark knights could not slay                three dragons. “I pray you know only                peace and plenty, as the realm deserves                after so many long years of war.”

Daenerys regarded the woman before her without enmity, bowing herself before the famed Queen in the North.  She had her own story, one that intrigued Daenerys, so tragic and similar was it to her own.  "Your Grace," she told her, straightening and giving her a rare smile.  "It is a pleasure to return to what was once taken from me.  My children and I thank you for your welcome, and I do hope you shall do me the pleasure of being my honoured guest and sup with me tonight."

"May peace bless the North as well, Your Grace.  And sun to melt the summer snows and take away the chill so that your crop may be plenty."

     ”You.

You’re the Targaryen girl      the    advisors   were talking about in King’s         Landing.”

"I am indeed Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen.  You were in King's Landing?  Tell me -- is there news of the Usurper's latest attempts to take my life?  Who are you, and how come you from King's Landing to the Free Cities?"

[ h o w l for m e ]

Darkness was his friend, his home, and what he felt like meant more to him—it was when he felt free to be who and what he was. Moonlit nights were often filled with his own freedom. Animals and people both knew him well by another form—one that hunted the great forests that surrounded the small villages and large towns. He never entered them unless he had to, for he might get caught up and be unleashed upon innocents.

Yet, tonight was different. He smelled a different prey tonight, and her scent was taunting him. With his great form taken once more, he bound from his sleeping place and through the lengths of the forest that made for his hunting ground. Trees were marked by large claws, some even pushed hard enough to fall for his ferocious might knew no bounds.

As he closed in on the scent, he slowed down and took back to the human form—his birth form. He had dark hair and his eyes, tainted by his curse, were dark like a storm but held a golden ring to them in the night. Perhaps for the best, he looked to see if one of his caches of clothing was nearby—and luck be had that one was. He quickly clothed—his transformation forcing him to be rid of clothing when in his animal form.

He saw the light of a torch and he stepped into sight as he spoke—body clad in cloth and leather mixtures of a black coloring. “—And what do we have here?” His voice rumbled in the quiet night, his dark eyes settling across the figure’s red cloak—only to drag across her body with an almost lustful look.

"And who is so bold as to traverse these forests at night?" The wolfish man grinned—lightly—and tilted his head curiously. Oh how her scent was driving him mad. Yet, he held himself in check. He would not become the monster—not yet.

The old women of the village liked to titter about the things that lived in the forest -- fae that kidnapped babes from their mothers' breasts, witches who lured children into their homes to devour them whole, great monstrous winged beasts that swept down in the night upon a man, never to be heard from again...some even chanced that the very trees were alive with spirits, and that they seized men and women and children for their snacks, to gobble the unwary traveller up. They were naught but faerie stories, meant to scare children into behaving and doing as their parents bade them.  She ignored them all, all but one -- the story of the wolf, a great monstrous thing, white as snow with eyes like gleaming rubies, that crept on silent paws through the forest, hunting, smelling for blood.  She had heard the howls late at night in her cottage and peered through the window, searching for a sight.  She didn't believe in monsters, not really.   Her mother had told her to go over to her grandmother's that night, for which she was grateful.  They had not heard from her in some nights, and with her fragile health and the rapidly approaching winter, they could spare no expense to make sure that she was well.   The hour was late, her grandmother likely to be sleeping as she grabbed her cloak, a torch, a sack of provisions for the walk, and her dagger.  Despite the fact that she didn't much believe in monsters or faery stories, she did believe in wolves and robbers, and wished to take no chances.  Her grandmother lived just on the outskirts of the other side of the great forest, far enough that the journey would take her the entire night to reach the cottage to be there by the time her grandmother woke.  And so she set out, cloak bound about her shoulders for warmth, the bag slung across her body, hand on the hilt of her small blade. The soft rumble of his voice made her jump and she whirled, red cloak spinning with her as she stared into the face of the man before her.  "Me," she said simply, tightening the hold on her dagger.  "A mere traveller."

             ❝Aye. Give me freedom for myself and my people, and I will assist                you in times of war as faithfully as any of your men. Your offer is                flattering, your Grace, truly. But I will not be able to remain in the                Capitol to properly command your fleet. My place is on the Iron                Islands with the Ironborn. But if you wish a Greyjoy to lead your Navy,                I offer my uncle Victarion. He will serve you faithfully, he is the Lord                Commander of the Iron Fleet now. If it please you, while he follows                your rule at sea, I will rule my own home, until Your Grace has need                of me. Do not misunderstand, I will be loyal to you if you deliver me                freedom, but I’m sure you agree - a queen’s place is with her people.❞

"Spoken like a true queen," Daenerys smiled though a thin whisper of anger crept through her veins.  "I shall accept these new terms, then.  Your uncle -- tell me about him.  I do not wish to have a man in command of my fleet when I know nothing of him.  A poor decision it would be indeed.  I would prefer it be you, who will be leading me to victory so soon as it is, but it is of no matter.  Your fealty if it should come to war is all that I ask."

Baby had to stop her mouth falling open in shock. Since …everything had happened, the few she had dared approach for help had turned her away. Now The Mother of Dragons, had …accepted her?

      The gentle hand on her shoulder nearly fractured Baby’s strong veneer. Not since the death of her mother had she been touched so simply, so tenderly. Baby took her sword in her hands and dropped her gaze in an attempt to hide the tears which pricked at her eyes.

      “Thank you… your Grace…” Was all she could muster.

Dany gave her a small nod, the briefest of smiles coming to her lips as she surveyed the girl, not too far apart in age from herself. She had seen hardship as Dany had, she could sense it. "Speak nothing of it," she said offhandedly. "However, do not give me cause to regret this."

scornxd seeks the dragon

     Disinterest colored her gaze, the girl’s words droning on. Cersei did not fear dragons, she did not fear death — she did not fear Targaryen’s. She had seen them at their weakest, she had seen Aerys paranoid and destroying his own kingdom. She had seen Rhaegar prove himself the weakest of any man. She would withstand this dragon mother — and she would reign.                            ” Then burn it all.                         You will win no people                             with your father’s                               m a d d n e s s  ”

"I do not possess the same madness as my father; I do not wish to kill without reason. Justice needs be done.  A queen should be both loved and feared if she is to remain strong and capable of ruling, neither of which are you...I would not burn the city nor the innocents, but the king, who has spilt more innocent blood than I have tainted blood, he is deserving of death."

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