'twas only a compliment

She’s just scared and cold.

“While the inbreeding was meant to stabilize the family, it had a paradoxical effect. Succession became a perennial crisis for the Ptolemies, who exacerbated the matter with poisons and daggers. Intermarriage consolidated wealth and power but lent a new meaning to sibling rivalry, all the more remarkable among relatives who routinely appended benevolent-sounding epithets to their titles. (Officially speaking, Cleopatra and the brother from whom she was running for her life were the Theoi Neoi Philadelphoi, or “New Sibling-Loving Gods.”) It was rare to find a member of the family who did not liquidate a relative or two, Cleopatra VII included. Ptolemy I married his half sister, who conspired against him with her sons, two of whom he murdered. The first to be worshipped as a goddess in her lifetime, she went on to preside over a golden age in Ptolemaic history. Here too was an unintended consequence of sibling marriage: For better or worse, it put a premium on Ptolemaic princesses. In every respect the equals of their brothers and husbands, Cleopatra’s female predecessors knew their worth. They came increasingly to assert themselves. The Ptolemies did future historians no favors in terms of nomenclature; all the royal women were Arsinoes, Berenices, or Cleopatras. They are more easily identified by their grisly misdeeds than their names, although tradition proved immutable on both counts: various Cleopatras, Berenices, and Arsinoes poisoned husbands, murdered brothers, and outlawed all mention of their mothers—afterward offering up splendid monuments to those relatives’ memories.” — Stacy Schiff, Cleopatra: A Life

i. do not fall in love with me. for i am hungry and cruel & i will hollow you out with heavy secrets & ugly insides.

i am not beautiful, i am scarred. my mind is dusty archives with  paper thoughts that my wildfire heart has a tendency to burn.

i will burn you. i will not provide you warmth.

because i am selfish & frigid & i will steal your offered comfort.

ii. do not fall in love with me. for i am a killer.

finger pointed in a permanent pistol, i will whisper compassion with the heavy barrel of my gun.

iii. do not fall in love with me because i am cruel.

i am jealous & messy & savage & i will show you what a true monster is. i will posses you utterly.

i will suffocate you.

iv. do not fall in love with me. for i am a sadist and i will feed you my chaos affection & you  will choke.

v. do not fall in love with me. for i am a liar.

i will hurt you & crush you & scream my strength into the air between us.

i will make you feel wonderful & worthless.

vi. do not fall in love with me. for i am weak.

& i will inhale you more than the stolen oxygen in my butterfly lungs. i will rely on you with my life & i will lock my heart away inside your ribcage  because I do not trust myself with it.

vii. do not fall in love with me. for i will need you.

Dothraki men and women alike wore painted leather vests over bare chests and horsehair leggings cinched by bronze medallion belts. Dany did not need to look. She was barefoot, with oiled hair, wearing Dothraki riding leathers and a painted vest given her as a bride gift. She looked as though she belonged here. Viserys was soiled and stained in city silks and ringmail.     — Dany III, AGOT

“you strip off my fairy wings beneath a night-bitten moon, breath like a forest fire, kiss simmering into ashes on my tongue. my glitter relocating, finding homes under your fingertips, twisted into your hair like smoke or a child’s ghost. i never knew something could cleave you in halves before it began, never knew love tasted like a blood sacrifice. but you do. you with tsunami-fingers, leaving casualties easy as footprints in your wake. you with a tsunami-heart, spiraling away. me with naught but shredded fairy wings to bury next to my heart in a shallow grave marked with my name.”