When I was a child, an uncle asked what gift I wanted for my name day. I begged him for one of you. “It wouldn’t even have to be a big dragon,” I told him. “It could be little like me.” Everyone laughed like it was the funniest thing they had ever heard. Then my father told me the last dragon had died a century ago. I cried myself to sleep that night. But here you are.


And when the bleak dawn broke over an empty horizon, Dany knew that he was truly lost to her. “When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east,” she said sadly. “When the seas go dry and mountains blow in the wind like leaves. When my womb quickens again, and I bear a living child. Then you will return, my sun-and-stars, and not before.”

Never, the darkness cried, never never never.

Inside the tent Dany found a cushion, soft silk stuffed with feathers. She clutched it to her breasts as she walked back out to Drogo, to her sun-and-stars. If I look back I am lost. It hurt even to walk, and she wanted to sleep, to sleep and not to dream.

She knelt, kissed Drogo on the lips, and pressed the cushion down across his face.

“Three things shine before the world and cannot be hidden. They are the sun, the moon and the truth…”

”The dragon has three heads.” - A Clash of Kings

or, my favourite ideal scenario; Queen Daenerys, Queen Sansa and King Jon, Rulers of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord and Ladies Regnant of the Seven Kingdoms, the Protectors of the Realm.

Shakespearean Jaime x Brienne Swordfight


Hold, enough! Another step I cannot take.


Shut thy abhorred mouth, and quick’n thy pace!


No further, good wench–my soles and soul do beg thee!


I care not for thy feet, nor thy honorless soul.


Nay? A wicked wench thou art, without a heart!

Do I not cry, honorless though I be?

Hast thou no regard for the likes of me?


And hast thou no regard for thine own good?

A bridge is not so safe as shaded wood;

We are but mice afield a grassless ground

Whilst hungry prey do circle all around.


[takes her sword]

The wench without regard hath lost her guard!

Now–mouse or prey, show me what thou art.


Lay thy sword upon the ground, Kingslayer.


To what end, pray?


Else thy life’s end, upon my blade.


Such wild, lusty boasts from but a maid!

Thou art the weaker sex; thou hast no blade.

Well, then—shall I thee teach thy first true dance?

Come spill thy blood upon my sword—advance!

[They fight]


Thou art good—green and lacking grace, but good.


I would not hurt thee, Kingslayer.


Thou coudst not hurt me if thou tried to do so.


Try me not!


Try thee? I would not try thee for all th’world.

Thou art too large and lumb’ring for my needs.


I would have thee show’t, if thou art man indeed.

[they fight, until Brienne is straddling Jaime in the river]


Gods, wench! This is a posture too advanc’d

For maids of Tarth just learning how to dance!


Yield, Kingslayer, yield! Or I shall thee drown!


But nay–thine oaths are hard and thick as lead,

Much like thy undesir’d maidenhead.

[enter the BRAVE COMPANIONS, laughing. Jaime and Brienne rise.]

JAIME [aside]

The blush upon her cheek doth give me right

T’imagine her in heat of love’s sweet fight.

And what a fight it was, I do concede.

The wench is strong; from several wounds I bleed.

But what uncomely strangers now are these?

I trust them not, and feel much worse at ease.

The path ahead winds long, now more than ever

The wench and I must hold together.