[Sieglinde's room in Oska is, at first glance... chaotic. Everywhere there are books and half finished spells and mechanical baubles and bubbling science experiments, trophies and useful items filched from the worlds they've visited... and there on a tiny portion of the table made clear, is their meal. Sieglinde feels much more "at home" (whatever home was anymore) here, in her own laboratory and not borrowed space in other worlds, and she perches gracefully on a stool even as she beckons Daenerys in with a smile, the chair opposite her cleared off.
She looks far more rested than in Woodhurst. Far less, (though still much), weighing on her mind.]
In both food and jewelry both?
[The diamonds she assumes the queen plans to take from the beautiful crown she wears, which Sieglinde admires openly. Her familiar also spares a look, but the skull-faced canine soon just curls back up on Sieglinde's bed.]
That is a lovely piece of work. Your artisans do very delicate settings.
[Queens did have jewels- usually. She assumes it is from Daenerys' own world.]
My goldsmiths would insist upon a dragon entwined with a harpy. [ Jeweled, every inch. ] Their union should be a blessing upon my city, a symbol for a marriage most pleasing to the Ghiscari gods.
[ Such is the Meereenese way; all must be pleasing to their gods. It is something Sieglinde did not know about her: For all that she shares her bed with gods, in Meereen she is a queen with a king. ]
You are borrowing from a gift, [ she informs her lightly, closing the door behind her. ] A token from a friend who had hoped to win my favor. And ... he was a bold man, of many fervent hopes.
[ Sieglinde is clever enough to glean her meaning, and he will return to reclaim none of it.
She seats herself gracefully on the chair, tucking her skirts beneath her knees. The mess does not seem to trouble her, but she does cast a curious eye around it all. ]
[Oh. Sieglinde's eyebrows raise just slightly, even as she reaches to pour the wine she's gotten a hold of into two small glasses. She had known that Daenerys was a Queen, but not that she was yet wed. Which might be shocking considering she also knew (and had cheekily implied as such) that the lucky lady was also intimately involved with two of the divine amongst their team...
But the young witch's idea of marriage was. Loose at best. Rather than scandalized, she feels a bit... jealous, in a way. Not for the confines of what was likely a political marriage, but. For the ability to even be considered for it.]
My, that sounds heavily ambitious a design. The symbolism does seem quite potent, of course... the dragon would be larger, I assume?
[The woman had not seemed one likely to cede power to her King so much as keep a Consort. The wine poured, she offers Daenerys the glass, playing the good host even as her mind wanders to the possibilities.
And cheeks turn slightly pink at her guess of who that bold man might be. She had known a bold man herself who liked to gift women with gold and jewels- in fact, she wears a golden bracelet still that had been his parting gift.]
I do believe I know who you might be referring to... his taste in the precious and in women was... quite praiseworthy.
[ The name and the title are said sweetly as she accepts the wine. Perhaps Sieglinde has taken enough notice of her to know that sweetness sometimes holds a special significance. ]
A clever man, and wealthy. He required my name, as I required his friends. My city is divided among nobles and freedmen, enough that they stand apart from one another even in my court.
[ She has conquered cities to feed her freedmen. The nobles she would sooner flay.
At the mention of praiseworthy taste, Dany notes the golden bracelet, and wonders how much Gilgamesh might have presumed upon her patience. The fact that he flattered someone so young puts her in mind of being sold when she was scarce fourteen. ]
You are not wrong, though, [ she agrees lightly, though her look is coy, her tone innocent. ] Perhaps the dragon should devour the harpy.
[There is something indeed about the way she says noble. A lesser man, then, well. When one is a Queen, Sieglinde imagines that most every man is technically lesser. Potentially jealous. Potentially... inclined to plots and schemes for the sake of politics and thrones. She does not know so much from personal experience, having had no other lords to rival her claims in her world, isolated as her village had been and her "rule", lie that it had been unchallenged... but she has consumed a frightening amount of literature on the subject and many others.
Freedmen means they were once slaves, and that adds another element to this she has no true experience with. Though she tries.]
If it was a marriage of political convenience, then I see no reason why not. Once the purpose is served, there is none else to prevent such, is there?
[Using a man for his wealth and status to one's own ends? Women sometimes had to work with what they had to accomplish their goals. The Outside World was a very biased place. Perhaps it's odd for a girl her age to speak so fine of such a thing, but she simply offers the fruit bowl.]
I myself can only imagine marriage if absolutely necessary to convince who I choose to sire my daughter... the Green Witch's tradition is far more independent, and we do not raise our heirs with fathers.
[For better or for worse.]
Though I must admit you make quite curious for your world, Queen Daenerys.
Hizdahr and I wedded before the eyes of the gods of Ghis, [ Dany tells her, accepting the fruit bowl. ] In the ritual, he bathed my feet in oils. I thought perhaps if he had such gentle hands, I could grow to love a gentle heart.
[ But she does not. He had bought her her peace, true, but it had come at the cost of bitter concessions, the victories small. And the day she had flown out of Daznak's pit on Drogon's back, someone had tried to poison her. He needed her, as she needed him, yet ... Who else could it have been? Some freedman cook, dissatisfied with my terms? Some woman of Pahl, wishing to take my head for her slain husband? A juicy plum is plucked from the bowl between delicate fingers.
The curiosity for her world draws a faint smile. What questions would a Green Witch ask? Many that Dany would not have chosen for her own interests, she does not doubt. ]
You may ask. We are worlds away, and my seneschal cannot prattle of propriety when he is deaf to my gossip.
It is only proper to include the requisite gods, of course.
[Not that she has ever been wed or performed a wedding, but she has read about the topic extensively! The foot bathing is perhaps a bit new, but it does indeed sound somewhat romantic when the person bathing your feet in oils wasn't doing it because they had been broken and needed to be kept supple to bind tighter.
Still. She said "thought" in a way that did seem very in the past tense.]
You spoke of the horse people of your first husband, before.
[And of the misfortune that had befallen the man, and her unborn child. It wasn't her intent to dredge up that particular memory, but.]
Where has your path taken you, that you now consort with these Ghis?
[ The queen explains it in the briefest of terms, omitting what still gives her pause. It is easier, at least, to speak to someone younger than she.
Dany reaches across the table and, if Sieglinde allows it, takes her hands. She tells her of how she had led her people across the Red Waste; that her choices had been to keep walking, or die. She tells her how she had found a shining jewel of a city amidst the scorching red sands, ancient and wealthy and proud. She tells her how she had come seeking answers and succor for her people, though only the warlocks had offered her true wisdom. She speaks of how they are searching for her still, to put knives into her back, though they had sailed the wrong way.
It seems to amuse her more than to frighten her. ]
My knight convinced me to dock in Astapor, [ she tells her. ] I meant to buy an army, to go to my friend a queen.
[She allows it, even if at first she is somewhat confused by it, not used to physical contact of that sort. Was it meant to comfort her, or prepare her for something shocking? Meant to brace the woman speaking instead? She stopped caring for that sort of thing as Daenerys tells her tale, and she finds herself lost in it, fingers curling somewhat tightly in excitement.
It sounds more like a book she would have read in some vast library, maybe even her own manor's, fantastical and full of dragons, jewels, knights, and magic... but it was someone's life, not just a story, and she listens raptly, hanging on to each detail to give it the weight it deserves.]
Then it is a good thing your knight pushed for such a course.
[Even if it might be by chance, then it meant that she had avoided the powerful warlocks who had searched for her... and she said before she had an army, which meant... ?]
So you purchased an army of... sell-swords? Slaves?
[ The touch is for all of it, and none of it, all the same. Dany is tactile, particularly with those for whom she feels affection. ]
Astapor is far-famed, [ she explains, ] for training the finest soldiers in all the world. I ... I did not know why.
[ Here she pauses. She wishes to flinch, and at last, she allows it of herself. ]
In the end I had no other choice. Buy them all, and I would bring with me a slave army across the sea. Sail away, as Ser Barristan counseled, and I would leave eight thousand behind. Eight thousand, the six centuries ... and the two thousand still in training as well.
[ She had slapped Ser Jorah upon her return to her ship that afternoon. Anger was better than weeping. That night, she had debated with herself for hours, and wept in private. ]
On the morrow, [ she continues, ] I returned with my wares. All of them. The silks, the amber beads, the furs, the spices and ... and Drogon. Drogon, most of all. The Good Masters lusted for dragons.
[ Here she releases Sieglinde's hand to sip at her wine, requiring it. She can still feel the fire rising up inside her when she remembers. ]
I marched out with all, [ she tells her. ] Drogon, and the people. They were soldiers still, yet now they were free men.
[Though slavery is a concept with which Sieglinde is very familiar, (it came up in a good many histories), it's not something she's ever had to confront, or actually form an opinion on, largely dealing with it only as a passive learner of the past.
But now doesn't seem quite the time to decide either, so she continues just listening instead.
Drogon she has seen, in all his magnificence, (though according to Daenerys, not as largely magnificent as he should be), so she knows already she could not have just handed the creature over...]
Why are they famed the world over?
[She didn't feel a need to ask what happened to the Masters. It seemed.... implied.]
cw: literally every trigger warning ever in asoiaf
[ Behind her wine glass, Dany's brow darkens. It is an ungentle tale.
Once she would have shielded a child from such matters, but Sieglinde is older than Missandei, and Missandei has seen more cruelty in her short years than even Dany has. ]
Because their discipline is an unrivaled, tireless thing. They are groomed to obey, [ she tells her bluntly, ] no matter the cost to their own lives. They are gelded as youths, fed poison each night to extinguish their pain, and made to train with shield, spear, and shortsword from dawn to dusk. Unsullied keep no names among themselves, have no use for looting, and they do not harm women as armies do.
[ She pauses, reaching for Sieglinde's hand again. ]
Thousands were culled for weakness before ever they earned their spiked caps. [ She sips at her wine. ] Such was the brutality of their training. The deeds they committed before they were deemed ready for my purchase were monstrous. Enough that when first I was informed, I could not bear to think of them as men. Not even as cut men.
[Daenerys moves for her hand, and Sieglinde wraps her small fingers around the older woman's, staring for a moment at their hands, and the differences between them- and the similarities as well. The Queen might be her senior, but she is not so old as that...
And it is a foul thing she describes. The likes of which Sieglinde has only read of, in one of her books in the vast library that had made up the Green Witch's manor. A tale of Sparta, and the harsh and unforgiving training the sons of that city-state went through to mold them into perfect soldiers. And maybe their lives had been harsh to the point that even now the English used the word "spartan" for such things, but there's was... a culture that chose that path.
Not slaves.
Of course there is nothing her sympathies or feelings on the matter would do, but her gaze still lowers slightly as she debates what to say.]
What a great and terrible army that must be...
[Great, for they sounded as if they would fight to the death, fight well and fight viciously without the greed, lust, and sadism that might plague other forces... but at what cost?]
Now, [ says Dany, ] they fight for me as free men, or elsewise lead companies of other freed men, as they wish. They choose old names, new names. They keep the names given to them in their training, if that is their desire.
[ She remembers she had been curious why Grey Worm wished to keep his vermin name. His answer had moved her. ]
They have elected a captain, whom I trust with my every command. I put my life into their hands, and they have never once failed me, however frightening the task. [ She had asked if they would bring her water to bathe the sick in Astapor, and they had complied where her bloodriders and handmaids had recoiled. ]
They were made to be monsters, yet in that the Good Masters failed. [ Another sip of wine; she has sipped many times, it seems. But for this, she needs it. ] I received reports that some had visited houses of pleasure in my city. Brothels, [ she explains. ] They pay silver coin to lie with women. To be held.
[ Her eyes are dry now, as they had been then, but she had wanted to weep. Some part of her still does. ]
Tell me, how could I have given them up for lost? They are only weapons, forged in fire and steel. I would sooner extinguish the men who made them that way.
It was peculiar to hear such things straight from another's mouth, and not read it on an old and wormbit page. Soldiers who had been forced to abandon humanity, finding it again. Choosing names, and expressing opinions, and paying just for the experience of comfort. It makes her gaze soften and waver, but she likes to think it should make anyone's.]
It is a good thing, that it was you who took them under your wing.
[Soldiers like that... it's easy to imagine what someone with less sympathy and care than Daenerys had could do with them. War was an ugly thing no matter what, but to make it needlessly more so...
She carefully pulls apart a sprig of grapes, thinking.]
[ It is a question that arrives, at once, to the heart of the matter. Dany is silent, taking the chance to nibble at a plum. It is ripe and sweet, so much that the juice nearly drenches her chin, but the more the queen thinks upon her follies and her concessions, the more sour it tastes.
At last, she speaks. And when she does, there is something younger about her. What is old is the eyes. ]
I freed my people, yet I did not save them. [ A simple, profound truth. ] I thought I'd struck the chains from their ankles and cast their iron collars into the fire. In truth, all I did was cut off their feet and behead them.
[ That is the simple truth. That is what sours the plum. ]
I lingered in Meereen to rule. [ Her eyes meet Sieglinde's. ] To be a queen. My heart was sick of smashing and plundering, and I was only a young girl. I wished to feed my people and see them prosper. To ... to plant trees and watch them grow.
[ But Meereen is not her home. ]
Before I awoke in Oska, I was a starved, filthy thing. Drogon carried me away from Meereen, away into the Dothraki Sea, where once I roamed the high grasses with Khal Drogo's khalasar. I wanted to return to my city on wings, but by dusk Drogon always returns to his lair.
[ She smiles wryly. ]
I have named it Dragonstone. Do you know why, Sieglinde?
It explains why, when they'd first met on the beaches of Nalawi, what seemed like so long ago to a girl who had grown up never meeting anyone but the people of her village that she had always known, (yet never known at all), that Daenerys had not looked a queen at all, but more a beggar in rags. Clothes aside, she had believed her then, by grace of her personality and words.
Words she listened to with fascination, curiousity, and sympathy both.
She could guess, but she would rather hear it from Daenerys' lips.]
[ You know why. Dany's certain Sieglinde could guess, if she wished. Nonetheless, she smiles faintly. ]
Because Dragonstone is the ancient citadel where I was born.
[ Her home. If there are truly gods in her world, there can be no stronger omen than that. ]
My home across the sea. Where Aegon once lived, and the princes and princesses of old after him.
[ Her plum is lowered, her hands settled into her lap. ]
On the day I wed Hizdahr, my enemies had ringed my city in steel. I chained myself in gold to a harpy, yet with that gesture I returned many to their bonds. I am no Meereenese queen, no matter my veil, no matter my tokar.
[ It is as if there is some fire within her, for all that her eyes are distant. ]
I am the blood of the dragon, and one day I shall return to Westeros to claim my father's throne.
[It is easy to get caught up in the fervor, the thrill of adventure, weddings, revenge, and conquest. Sieglinde, who had always read and dreamed of the Outside World she could only wish to see until ALASTAIR, might be particularly susceptible to such things. She scarce takes her eyes from Daenerys as she speaks, the grapes in her hand forgotten.
Some of the words she uses a girl not of the same world cannot understand, but Sieglinde is clever and educated, she infers and the picture assembles itself despite- a quest that held the lives of countless thousands in its grip.
The queen's last words ring and die in the air, and it takes a moment for the small Witch to find her own in response, searching the older woman's face and seeing clearly her determination, the fire worthy of a dragon. (No wonder that bold man had been so fascinated.)]
I may know little of your world, but there is something touched about you. Any Witch could see that- someone strong enough to bring their desires to life.
[Her voice sounds slightly removed, above, the same voice she had used with her villagers, when she prophesied and read the stars. From when she'd believed she could.]
I cannot fathom the lives that may be lost upon the way... but that is the way of war and the world, no matter how we mortals dislike it. I, who have doomed perhaps thousands... even still I cannot imagine the weight you must bear.
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no subject
She looks far more rested than in Woodhurst. Far less, (though still much), weighing on her mind.]
In both food and jewelry both?
[The diamonds she assumes the queen plans to take from the beautiful crown she wears, which Sieglinde admires openly. Her familiar also spares a look, but the skull-faced canine soon just curls back up on Sieglinde's bed.]
That is a lovely piece of work. Your artisans do very delicate settings.
[Queens did have jewels- usually. She assumes it is from Daenerys' own world.]
no subject
My goldsmiths would insist upon a dragon entwined with a harpy. [ Jeweled, every inch. ] Their union should be a blessing upon my city, a symbol for a marriage most pleasing to the Ghiscari gods.
[ Such is the Meereenese way; all must be pleasing to their gods. It is something Sieglinde did not know about her: For all that she shares her bed with gods, in Meereen she is a queen with a king. ]
You are borrowing from a gift, [ she informs her lightly, closing the door behind her. ] A token from a friend who had hoped to win my favor. And ... he was a bold man, of many fervent hopes.
[ Sieglinde is clever enough to glean her meaning, and he will return to reclaim none of it.
She seats herself gracefully on the chair, tucking her skirts beneath her knees. The mess does not seem to trouble her, but she does cast a curious eye around it all. ]
no subject
But the young witch's idea of marriage was. Loose at best. Rather than scandalized, she feels a bit... jealous, in a way. Not for the confines of what was likely a political marriage, but. For the ability to even be considered for it.]
My, that sounds heavily ambitious a design. The symbolism does seem quite potent, of course... the dragon would be larger, I assume?
[The woman had not seemed one likely to cede power to her King so much as keep a Consort. The wine poured, she offers Daenerys the glass, playing the good host even as her mind wanders to the possibilities.
And cheeks turn slightly pink at her guess of who that bold man might be. She had known a bold man herself who liked to gift women with gold and jewels- in fact, she wears a golden bracelet still that had been his parting gift.]
I do believe I know who you might be referring to... his taste in the precious and in women was... quite praiseworthy.
[Ahem.]
no subject
[ The name and the title are said sweetly as she accepts the wine. Perhaps Sieglinde has taken enough notice of her to know that sweetness sometimes holds a special significance. ]
A clever man, and wealthy. He required my name, as I required his friends. My city is divided among nobles and freedmen, enough that they stand apart from one another even in my court.
[ She has conquered cities to feed her freedmen. The nobles she would sooner flay.
At the mention of praiseworthy taste, Dany notes the golden bracelet, and wonders how much Gilgamesh might have presumed upon her patience. The fact that he flattered someone so young puts her in mind of being sold when she was scarce fourteen. ]
You are not wrong, though, [ she agrees lightly, though her look is coy, her tone innocent. ] Perhaps the dragon should devour the harpy.
no subject
Freedmen means they were once slaves, and that adds another element to this she has no true experience with. Though she tries.]
If it was a marriage of political convenience, then I see no reason why not. Once the purpose is served, there is none else to prevent such, is there?
[Using a man for his wealth and status to one's own ends? Women sometimes had to work with what they had to accomplish their goals. The Outside World was a very biased place. Perhaps it's odd for a girl her age to speak so fine of such a thing, but she simply offers the fruit bowl.]
I myself can only imagine marriage if absolutely necessary to convince who I choose to sire my daughter... the Green Witch's tradition is far more independent, and we do not raise our heirs with fathers.
[For better or for worse.]
Though I must admit you make quite curious for your world, Queen Daenerys.
no subject
[ But she does not. He had bought her her peace, true, but it had come at the cost of bitter concessions, the victories small. And the day she had flown out of Daznak's pit on Drogon's back, someone had tried to poison her. He needed her, as she needed him, yet ... Who else could it have been? Some freedman cook, dissatisfied with my terms? Some woman of Pahl, wishing to take my head for her slain husband? A juicy plum is plucked from the bowl between delicate fingers.
The curiosity for her world draws a faint smile. What questions would a Green Witch ask? Many that Dany would not have chosen for her own interests, she does not doubt. ]
You may ask. We are worlds away, and my seneschal cannot prattle of propriety when he is deaf to my gossip.
no subject
[Not that she has ever been wed or performed a wedding, but she has read about the topic extensively! The foot bathing is perhaps a bit new, but it does indeed sound somewhat romantic when the person bathing your feet in oils wasn't doing it because they had been broken and needed to be kept supple to bind tighter.
Still. She said "thought" in a way that did seem very in the past tense.]
You spoke of the horse people of your first husband, before.
[And of the misfortune that had befallen the man, and her unborn child. It wasn't her intent to dredge up that particular memory, but.]
Where has your path taken you, that you now consort with these Ghis?
no subject
Dany reaches across the table and, if Sieglinde allows it, takes her hands. She tells her of how she had led her people across the Red Waste; that her choices had been to keep walking, or die. She tells her how she had found a shining jewel of a city amidst the scorching red sands, ancient and wealthy and proud. She tells her how she had come seeking answers and succor for her people, though only the warlocks had offered her true wisdom. She speaks of how they are searching for her still, to put knives into her back, though they had sailed the wrong way.
It seems to amuse her more than to frighten her. ]
My knight convinced me to dock in Astapor, [ she tells her. ] I meant to buy an army, to go to my friend a queen.
[ Plainly, some other fate had befallen her. ]
no subject
It sounds more like a book she would have read in some vast library, maybe even her own manor's, fantastical and full of dragons, jewels, knights, and magic... but it was someone's life, not just a story, and she listens raptly, hanging on to each detail to give it the weight it deserves.]
Then it is a good thing your knight pushed for such a course.
[Even if it might be by chance, then it meant that she had avoided the powerful warlocks who had searched for her... and she said before she had an army, which meant... ?]
So you purchased an army of... sell-swords? Slaves?
no subject
Astapor is far-famed, [ she explains, ] for training the finest soldiers in all the world. I ... I did not know why.
[ Here she pauses. She wishes to flinch, and at last, she allows it of herself. ]
In the end I had no other choice. Buy them all, and I would bring with me a slave army across the sea. Sail away, as Ser Barristan counseled, and I would leave eight thousand behind. Eight thousand, the six centuries ... and the two thousand still in training as well.
[ She had slapped Ser Jorah upon her return to her ship that afternoon. Anger was better than weeping. That night, she had debated with herself for hours, and wept in private. ]
On the morrow, [ she continues, ] I returned with my wares. All of them. The silks, the amber beads, the furs, the spices and ... and Drogon. Drogon, most of all. The Good Masters lusted for dragons.
[ Here she releases Sieglinde's hand to sip at her wine, requiring it. She can still feel the fire rising up inside her when she remembers. ]
I marched out with all, [ she tells her. ] Drogon, and the people. They were soldiers still, yet now they were free men.
[ Whilst the plaza yet burned. ]
no subject
But now doesn't seem quite the time to decide either, so she continues just listening instead.
Drogon she has seen, in all his magnificence, (though according to Daenerys, not as largely magnificent as he should be), so she knows already she could not have just handed the creature over...]
Why are they famed the world over?
[She didn't feel a need to ask what happened to the Masters. It seemed.... implied.]
cw: literally every trigger warning ever in asoiaf
Once she would have shielded a child from such matters, but Sieglinde is older than Missandei, and Missandei has seen more cruelty in her short years than even Dany has. ]
Because their discipline is an unrivaled, tireless thing. They are groomed to obey, [ she tells her bluntly, ] no matter the cost to their own lives. They are gelded as youths, fed poison each night to extinguish their pain, and made to train with shield, spear, and shortsword from dawn to dusk. Unsullied keep no names among themselves, have no use for looting, and they do not harm women as armies do.
[ She pauses, reaching for Sieglinde's hand again. ]
Thousands were culled for weakness before ever they earned their spiked caps. [ She sips at her wine. ] Such was the brutality of their training. The deeds they committed before they were deemed ready for my purchase were monstrous. Enough that when first I was informed, I could not bear to think of them as men. Not even as cut men.
no subject
And it is a foul thing she describes. The likes of which Sieglinde has only read of, in one of her books in the vast library that had made up the Green Witch's manor. A tale of Sparta, and the harsh and unforgiving training the sons of that city-state went through to mold them into perfect soldiers. And maybe their lives had been harsh to the point that even now the English used the word "spartan" for such things, but there's was... a culture that chose that path.
Not slaves.
Of course there is nothing her sympathies or feelings on the matter would do, but her gaze still lowers slightly as she debates what to say.]
What a great and terrible army that must be...
[Great, for they sounded as if they would fight to the death, fight well and fight viciously without the greed, lust, and sadism that might plague other forces... but at what cost?]
And now?
[She said "when first".]
no subject
[ She remembers she had been curious why Grey Worm wished to keep his vermin name. His answer had moved her. ]
They have elected a captain, whom I trust with my every command. I put my life into their hands, and they have never once failed me, however frightening the task. [ She had asked if they would bring her water to bathe the sick in Astapor, and they had complied where her bloodriders and handmaids had recoiled. ]
They were made to be monsters, yet in that the Good Masters failed. [ Another sip of wine; she has sipped many times, it seems. But for this, she needs it. ] I received reports that some had visited houses of pleasure in my city. Brothels, [ she explains. ] They pay silver coin to lie with women. To be held.
[ Her eyes are dry now, as they had been then, but she had wanted to weep. Some part of her still does. ]
Tell me, how could I have given them up for lost? They are only weapons, forged in fire and steel. I would sooner extinguish the men who made them that way.
Lord I thought I tagged this sorry
It was peculiar to hear such things straight from another's mouth, and not read it on an old and wormbit page. Soldiers who had been forced to abandon humanity, finding it again. Choosing names, and expressing opinions, and paying just for the experience of comfort. It makes her gaze soften and waver, but she likes to think it should make anyone's.]
It is a good thing, that it was you who took them under your wing.
[Soldiers like that... it's easy to imagine what someone with less sympathy and care than Daenerys had could do with them. War was an ugly thing no matter what, but to make it needlessly more so...
She carefully pulls apart a sprig of grapes, thinking.]
And now... where will the road lead from Ghis?
[When... if. She returned home.]
no subject
At last, she speaks. And when she does, there is something younger about her. What is old is the eyes. ]
I freed my people, yet I did not save them. [ A simple, profound truth. ] I thought I'd struck the chains from their ankles and cast their iron collars into the fire. In truth, all I did was cut off their feet and behead them.
[ That is the simple truth. That is what sours the plum. ]
I lingered in Meereen to rule. [ Her eyes meet Sieglinde's. ] To be a queen. My heart was sick of smashing and plundering, and I was only a young girl. I wished to feed my people and see them prosper. To ... to plant trees and watch them grow.
[ But Meereen is not her home. ]
Before I awoke in Oska, I was a starved, filthy thing. Drogon carried me away from Meereen, away into the Dothraki Sea, where once I roamed the high grasses with Khal Drogo's khalasar. I wanted to return to my city on wings, but by dusk Drogon always returns to his lair.
[ She smiles wryly. ]
I have named it Dragonstone. Do you know why, Sieglinde?
no subject
It explains why, when they'd first met on the beaches of Nalawi, what seemed like so long ago to a girl who had grown up never meeting anyone but the people of her village that she had always known, (yet never known at all), that Daenerys had not looked a queen at all, but more a beggar in rags. Clothes aside, she had believed her then, by grace of her personality and words.
Words she listened to with fascination, curiousity, and sympathy both.
She could guess, but she would rather hear it from Daenerys' lips.]
Why?
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Because Dragonstone is the ancient citadel where I was born.
[ Her home. If there are truly gods in her world, there can be no stronger omen than that. ]
My home across the sea. Where Aegon once lived, and the princes and princesses of old after him.
[ Her plum is lowered, her hands settled into her lap. ]
On the day I wed Hizdahr, my enemies had ringed my city in steel. I chained myself in gold to a harpy, yet with that gesture I returned many to their bonds. I am no Meereenese queen, no matter my veil, no matter my tokar.
[ It is as if there is some fire within her, for all that her eyes are distant. ]
I am the blood of the dragon, and one day I shall return to Westeros to claim my father's throne.
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Some of the words she uses a girl not of the same world cannot understand, but Sieglinde is clever and educated, she infers and the picture assembles itself despite- a quest that held the lives of countless thousands in its grip.
The queen's last words ring and die in the air, and it takes a moment for the small Witch to find her own in response, searching the older woman's face and seeing clearly her determination, the fire worthy of a dragon. (No wonder that bold man had been so fascinated.)]
I may know little of your world, but there is something touched about you. Any Witch could see that- someone strong enough to bring their desires to life.
[Her voice sounds slightly removed, above, the same voice she had used with her villagers, when she prophesied and read the stars. From when she'd believed she could.]
I cannot fathom the lives that may be lost upon the way... but that is the way of war and the world, no matter how we mortals dislike it. I, who have doomed perhaps thousands... even still I cannot imagine the weight you must bear.
[How heavy it must be.]
You must build a kingdom worthy of that loss.