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@theunburntprotector
“The frightened child who sheltered in my manse died on the Dothraki sea, and was reborn in blood and fire. This dragon queen who wears her name is a true Targaryen.”
Selective & Independent Daenerys Targaryen
based on asoiaf and game of thrones / mun 30 / written by kay
a question for the rp community.ᐟ
aside from tumblr, where are folks writing these days? I've always had a hard time finding long-term, active partners on tumblr. it seems like everyone has the attention span of a flea, and I end up with a whole lot of online friends and not a whole lot of people who prioritize writing. (for the record, I write canon fandom characters.) replies and DMs are welcome!
Reblogging this for a dear friend. Anyone in the tumblr-sphere know of other RP platforms that have active writers aplenty?
DAENERYS TARGARYEN in Game of Thrones → The Bells
You were told to ride at the back of the train. Yes my Queen. I need to speak to you about something important. A matter of strategy.
EMILIA CLARKE as DAENERYS TARGARYEN in GAME OF THRONES ↳ 7.06 - “Beyond the Wall”
Daenerys Targaryen appreciation 45/-
Ada Limón, from “Accident Report in the Tall, Tall Weeds”, Bright Dead Things
He watched her the entire time she spoke, smirking until she approached the conclusion. Pity swelled within him, though he didn’t dare to let it show for fear Daenerys would reject such gestures of sympathy; she was tempered with tougher steel than most–with dragonfire.
“Well, I am certainly pleased to be the party that fills that niche.” It was his honor, really. To be alone with a beautiful, powerful woman; those were the arms he would wish to die enclosed in–not that he was getting ahead of himself. It was simply a fact. “What do you wish for–beyond all of this political nonsense, I mean. What does Daenerys Targaryen want? Don’t tell me anything regarding the world nor the constituents within it. Something personal.”
"Who in great power enjoys a personal life? I'd like to know an answer," chuckled Dany, refilling both of their emptying cups. "If politics weren't in the cards for me, I'd go somewhere quiet. Perhaps a house rather than a high-rise, with a lemon tree that I've planted outside. In that version, I suppose I'd find someone to share life with. It's a pretty thought, but I would get bored, wouldn't I?"
This Darrio would surely understand. A restless flame could recognize another of its kind almost instantly. Though the desire for such a life found Daenerys in fleeting moments while lying in bed, she knew exactly why it would never be a path for the Targaryen. "Some of us are destined for things too great to bother with a happy, normal life. I wonder if you feel the same."
Touching his arm, dainty fingers trailed down to his hand, where Dany gently stroked his palm. "We should find somewhere more comfortable."
“Could be, but those of my echelon never see gifts like that–not unless we stole them first.” Daario remarked, though he knew full well how shit it was from spoils in the past; it was the ‘inspired’ bit that made them miss their mark!
Daario nearly tripped over one of the cats, a lighter colored one that was smaller than the other two, and made a face at them as they scurried off (when Daenerys wasn’t looking, of course). He accepted the glass, sniffing the sickeningly wafting aroma that sent his stomach into somersaults, though his face betrayed nothing of his distaste for the beverage. Hearing out the toast, he nodded with a shit-eating smile when he was included in it. He drank deeply and felt his eyelids twitch, the only sign he didn’t enjoy it one bit. “Well, I was going to drink just to you, but that works as well. Thank you.” There was a lingering leer shot Daenerys’ way over his glass as he set it aside, half-consumed. “Though I would like to know the woman beneath the fight, or is that too forward of me?” Not like he cared if it was anyway. “Tell me more. All I ever hear about is the larger-than-life Targaryen–which you are–but you are rather…short as well.”
"The woman beneath the fight?" Dany tilted her chin as a brow rose. "What would you like to know? She is a rather open book, though I can't promise that it's an interesting read." After a few sips of the strong spirit, the woman with silver hair set down her glass and stepped closer to Daario.
"She is foolishly determined, which is both her greatest strength and greatest weakness. She goes to bed every night a 9:30pm and wakes before daylight. She's a terrible cook, which I have already told you, but she does hold promise for leading a people. Can't make a roast but can give one hell of a speech. How does that work?"
Amethyst eyes softening, a chuckle resounded. "She gets lonely at times. No family, no person to share things with. That is why I'm not above this company, Daario Naharis."
Game of Thrones (2011-2019)
Open Starter
“I’m afraid that of all the harsh lessons I have learned, nothing worth doing in this world comes easily ranks among the most important.” Daario informed her almost somberly, somewhat out of character for the nonchalant, swaggering sellsword, but he knew his share of hardships as well. “You will succeed.” He reminded Daenerys once more.
The mentioning of his future voyage stirred plenty of feelings that were best left elsewhere, not with a dragon lingering in the background, but Daario did not resist a lingering glance. “I’ll be gentle.” He lied, fully intending to add to said bruising. “Ice! As if it won’t melt the instant it feels the sweltering heat of the Mother of Dragons!” He exclaimed, half laughing at the thought. “Yes, I’m a glutton for punishment, I’ll join you in this ice bath; at least I shall die with the most beautiful woman the world over across from me.”
"Such a pity that Meereen's bravest and boldest soldier might perish in a tub full of ice," said Daenerys, finding the rations from the horse's saddle and offering Daario half. A glint of a smile appeared beneath wind-blown hair, and Dany allowed the morsel of bread to fill her empty stomach. There was a welcome peace here atop whatever hill this was, wherever they were, without legions of unsullied or Tyrion piping in with pearls of wisdom.
Perhaps in the wake of taking to the skies, the dragon queen found herself aching for excitement. A hand, so much smaller and smoother than his, captured Daario's. "Gentle, says he." Without so much as a warning, the Targaryen unfastened her dress. "Don't make promises you cannot keep, Daario Naharis. Perhaps for the sake of your life, our shared company may be better suited on dry land."
Looking out over the sea made him miss home. The Rock. Castery Rock, not that of the Red Keep. That was not home, and never would be. Jaime had long ago realised that he was no longer made for kings and queens, and to serve. He was made for the sea air that tussled through his hair, the scent of the ocean spray as it speckled against his skin. A Lannister, yes, pale in complexion, but still one that was sun kissed from his youth, of running with Tyrion, bare foot in the sand, and throwing rocks into the pools. Where he would take Cersei and sneak away to kiss and fondle her in the caverns beneath the rocks, where the lions once played.
Dragonstone was not the same, but it was a close reminder. Of innocent times, before the wars, before becoming a Knight of the Seven Kingdoms. Before they had grown up, and everything was thrust upon their shoulders. Where he could once kiss and cuddle instead of stab and behead.
His sleep had been rough, but only because his mind did not stay quiet. He felt an immense pressure inside his chest as guilt sat upon him. He was free of Cersei here, and he hated that he felt that in his bones, because he loved her, or he was supposed to… But Tyrion was here, and he wanted to see his younger brother. He wanted to speak with him and perhaps get some sense smacked into his own head. Tyrion was always the wittiest of them all.
With his hand on the rocks that shaded him from the spray of the sea, his green eyes did not sway from the shoreline as Dany approached.
“The weather does not unsettle me,” he commented, though he did not to her in polite greeting, as she was a Queen, and Jaime still had his manners (sometimes). “I have slept in far worse in my battles.” And his inprisoment.
Finally, the Lannister looked to her, taking in her youth now that the sun was up and he could see her clearly. “Why do you trust Tyrion?” he asked, seriously, tilting his head slightly. “He has given you council, but what good is the council if a Lannister to you?” He wanted the real reasons, not some cry of kindness. He knew his little brother. Tyrion may not be as cruel as Cersei, but the both of them were ready to kill each other. Was that why Daenerys trusted him? She trusted in his hatred towards his own sister?
Fair fingers splayed against cool, damp stone as Dany found her place beside Jaime to overlook the rains. Fresh from bed, she was dressed with the elegance her many titles demanded, though Missandei had not yet seen to weaving her victorious braids. Silver hair instead stood on all ends, tamed only by a hasty brushing.
"Trust is a funny thing," Daenerys decided. "By all accounts, I am fool to assume your brother will not put a knife in my chest to regain favor with his family the moment we reach the capital. However, I believe that he is on my side. Tyrion has the strange gift of being both self-centered and selfless. Perhaps I do too. We both have our ego, but we do wish to do what's right by the people. It's as simple as that. Your family... My family too, in past, has not cared what becomes of anyone other than those few residing in the Red Keep."
Furrowing a brow, the dragon queen looked to her company. "Wouldn't we all benefit from caring just a little? What would the kingdoms look like if that were the case? I suppose all of that, combined with the hurt only one's blood can inflict, ensures my confidence your brother will not betray me."
@call-2-arms
Open Starter
“Don’t what?” Daario countered, for once not planning any sort of jab…until after he was called out about it. “I was only going to comment that children are unruly at times. They require discipline, something your dragons do not know; they are wild and young, but if memory serves correctly, there were once dragon tamers in the world. Naturally this is not so any longer, but I would imagine the principle remains?” If Daenerys was going to get anywhere with her dragons, it was through taming them. He resisted the urge to remind her that the horse–or, in her case, dragon–was only as good as the rider…
He was a soldier, so Daario knew when to pick and choose his battles. “You will master this in time. I’ve every confidence that if anyone can accomplish what has not been done for centuries, it is Daenerys Stormborn.” There was no doubt conveyed in his tone nor his lingering stare. “I do not think I will be much of a protection detail from the ground, but I will accompany you until you take your return flight. Are you hungry?” He gestured to his horse, who was grazing on a distant, singular patch of grass amidst the many dunes that surrounded the area. “I have some rations attached to her saddle.”
"Easier said than done," Daenerys clipped, agitated by the swift and simple solution from the swordsman. Certainly, braving the skies with Drogon required better control on her part, but the largest of her dragons was the least likely to care for his mother's commands. Perhaps she would have better luck atop Rhaegal or Viserion. Then again, Drogon's jealousy might have her plunging from the clouds toward imminent death...
At the mention of a meal, Dany obliged, her frenzied stomach finally settled. "I fear you may find bruising in your voyage south later. It was not the epitome of comfort up there." Amethyst eyes gleamed for a moment, a faint smile finding Daario. "Perhaps we can arrange for a bath of ice. You're welcome to join, if only so I can gloat while you writhe in pain."
@snowandheatmiserboys
snowandheatmiserboys:
theunburntprotector:
It was plain to see why her ancestors forged such contraptions. The insides of her thighs ached from the unfamiliar harshness of Drogon’s scales. This was something Daario would certainly notice while warming her bed later…
“Safe and not at all feeling as though I accomplished any great effort. I had little control up there,” replied Dany, conceding to leave the dragon to its sunbathe. “He could’ve flown halfway to Westeros and I wouldn’t have been able to stop him. I believe we can assume he listens to only two commands: dracarys - dragonfire - and sōvētēs - fly. Perhaps we’ll work on ‘land’ next… gently.”
She hoisted herself onto Daario’s steed with a pained groan and gestured for the swordsman to follow. The longer they lingered, the longer it would take to return to the Pyramid. A queen could not abandon her own after such trouble. Looking to Daario, the silver-haired woman found his expression unreadable. If he was even contemplating a jab…
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” Daario countered, for once not planning any sort of jab…until after he was called out about it. “I was only going to comment that children are unruly at times. They require discipline, something your dragons do not know; they are wild and young, but if memory serves correctly, there were once dragon tamers in the world. Naturally this is not so any longer, but I would imagine the principle remains?” If Daenerys was going to get anywhere with her dragons, it was through taming them. He resisted the urge to remind her that the horse–or, in her case, dragon–was only as good as the rider…
He was a soldier, so Daario knew when to pick and choose his battles. “You will master this in time. I’ve every confidence that if anyone can accomplish what has not been done for centuries, it is Daenerys Stormborn.” There was no doubt conveyed in his tone nor his lingering stare. “I do not think I will be much of a protection detail from the ground, but I will accompany you until you take your return flight. Are you hungry?” He gestured to his horse, who was grazing on a distant, singular patch of grass amidst the many dunes that surrounded the area. “I have some rations attached to her saddle.”
That stopped Daario in his tracks. The analogy alone was enough to throw him off; he knew it was some Disney nonsense, but that had never been his childhood. Quirking a brow, he rounded on Daenerys and pretended he was contemplating the offer (There was no hesitation whatsoever, but it was better to have some illusion of pride, was it not?). “You are no lion cub, Daenerys…” He began sauntering back toward her. “Nor are you a lioness; you are a dragon.” He corrected, grinning smugly. “Dragons beat lions every single time.”
He shared that very same lust as he found her gaze, the grin unrelenting as he hummed his agreement with the idea. “After a long day’s work? Absolutely.” To hell with professionalism, he says. He would much rather conquer or be conquered by the very dragon he admired. “I hope you have something rather strong. I’m no lightweight.”
Watching Daario with an unreadable expression, Dany waited a beat before allowing him back through the threshold of the building doors. "Perhaps I should crack open the bottle of whiskey that I've been saving for ages. Apparently, its flavors are inspired by the spirits of Old Valyria, where my family hails from. It was a gift," a very expensive gift, "from a wealthy campaign sponsor. Could be complete shit."
At her ankles, the cats trailed behind Daenerys to the cart where she loving admonished them to the other room and set to pouring two glasses of the fancy drink. Handing one to Daario, the dragon raised her’s in a toast. "To victory. To fighting for good and making a difference. And... for a very unique addition to Team Targaryen."
EMILIA CLARKE as DAENERYS TARGARYEN in GAME OF THRONES↳ 8.05 - “The Bells”
Open Starter
“Your ancestors had saddles and harnesses.” Daario reminded his Queen, both admiring and admonishing the risk she took. “Clinging for dear life is not ideal for the long term, so perhaps we should look into a craftsman that saddles horses. Surely there is one adept…and perhaps mad enough to design such a contraption for a conqueror such as yourself. Any number of the former slaves could possess such knowledge…”
Squinting as he peered up at the triumphant dragon, who was completely oblivious to how close his mother nearly fell to her death. “As for how I found the two of you: A jet black dragon in a beautiful blue sky is not exactly known for its stealth.” Her concern for those closest companions to her was noted and assured Daario that there was no finer Queen than the dragon rider that stood before him. “All accounted for, though it was chaotic–the melee–" He gestured to the blood that coated his gear, evidence of the bloodshed he took part in so he could find his way to Daenerys. “–So in the span of time it took me to track you here…it is difficult to say. I am only relieved you are safe.”
It was plain to see why her ancestors forged such contraptions. The insides of her thighs ached from the unfamiliar harshness of Drogon's scales. This was something Daario would certainly notice while warming her bed later...
"Safe and not at all feeling as though I accomplished any great effort. I had little control up there," replied Dany, conceding to leave the dragon to its sunbathe. "He could've flown halfway to Westeros and I wouldn't have been able to stop him. I believe we can assume he listens to only two commands: dracarys - dragonfire - and sōvētēs - fly. Perhaps we'll work on 'land' next... gently."
She hoisted herself onto Daario's steed with a pained groan and gestured for the swordsman to follow. The longer they lingered, the longer it would take to return to the Pyramid. A queen could not abandon her own after such trouble. Looking to Daario, the silver-haired woman found his expression unreadable. If he was even contemplating a jab...
"Don't."
