They Will Not Have My Dragons, Dany Vowed. They Will Not.

They will not have my dragons, Dany vowed. They will not.

arya stark appreciation month - day 28: parallels with other characters  → both arya and dany lose their hair at the end of a game of thrones (arya’s is cut off, dany’s is burned off)

As the blade flashed toward her face, Arya threw herself backward, kicking wildly, wrenching her head from side to side, but he had her by the hair, so strong, she could feel her scalp tearing, and on her lips the salt taste of tears.

~

The Lannister guardsmen on the gate were stopping everyone, but Yoren called one by name and their wagons were waved through. No one spared Arya a glance. They were looking for a highborn girl, daughter of the King’s Hand, not for a skinny boy with his hair chopped off.

~

When the fire died at last and the ground became cool enough to walk upon, Ser Jorah Mormont found her amidst the ashes, surrounded by blackened logs and bits of glowing ember and the burnt bones of man and woman and stallion. She was naked, covered with soot, her clothes turned to ash, her beautiful hair all crisped away … yet she was unhurt.

~

Her hair had burned away in Drogo’s pyre, so her handmaids garbed her in the skin of the hrakkar Drogo had slain, the white lion of the Dothraki sea.

that first jon and dany meeting really has the potential to be the funniest bait and switch ever. everyone freaking out ab the long awaited romantique destined icefire meeting and it’s just pages upon pages of fruitful political theory borne of two crazy-ass teenagers finally having someone to bounce off of. put those bitches in a room for an hour and they’re gonna come out with the westerosi equivalent to state and revolution. “someone finally ~understands me~” and the understanding in question is in being a complete radical in a slave based continent and xenophobic penal colony respectively.

random person: how can you still love dany when-

daenerys stans:

The gods have heard my prayer. “Unsullied!” Dany galloped before them, her silver-gold braid flying behind her, her bell chiming with every stride. “Slay the Good Masters, slay the soldiers, slay every man who wears a tokar or holds a whip, but harm no child under twelve, and strike the chains off every slave you see.” She raised the harpy’s fingers in the air … and then she flung the scourge aside. “Freedom!” she sang out. “Dracarys! Dracarys!” “Dracarys!” they shouted back, the sweetest word she’d ever heard. “Dracarys! Dracarys!” And all around them slavers ran and sobbed and begged and died, and the dusty air was filled with spears and fire. – A Storm of Swords

Daenerys Targaryen, A Song of Ice and Fire 2021 Calendar by Sam Hogg