#⊰ i. ⊱ general. » drogon. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

karahalloway · 3 months

Text

The Highwayman: Part III - The Highwayman Comes Riding

Fandom: TRR (Historical AU)

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Series Summary: On a dark, moonlit night, a highwayman's luck runs out...

Masterlist: The Highwayman

Chapter Summary: Drake arrives, but it's too late...

Word Count: 4,100

Rating/Warnings: M (swearing, physical violence, murder, grief, suicidal thoughts, main character death) Do not read if you are triggered by any of these things!

Chapter theme song:

A/N1: As with Part II of this series, this installment is also quite grim and dark. So read at your own peril. There is no happy ending. As before, I have made some changes to the original, but hopefully, these are for the better.

A/N2: This is my third and final submission for @choicesprompts January 2024 Song Rewrite Challenge. The song I chose to rewrite is The Highwayman by Loreena McKennit.

Part III - The Highwayman Comes Riding

The crack of a musket explodes out into the night.

I duck instinctively, pistols primed and itching to return fire...

...until I realise that the shot had come from the casement.

My throat constricts. "Harper..."

But she has vanished behind the plume of powder smoke that now obscures her window.

"Shit..."

I'd known something was wrong the moment I laid eyes on her. She'd been too tense, too still, sitting on that ledge, more akin to a doll than a flesh-and-blood woman...

...but I'd spotted the silvery gleam of the barrel too late, and now all hell has broken loose.

Fucking Beaumont.

I should never have let my guard down.

Heedless of the preservation of my own skin, I leap forward, fingers on triggers, desperate to reach her.

Another flash of orange...

...and my hat sails from atop my head as a bullet goes just wide of its mark.

I raise a weapon, volleys of lead peppering the thatch to my left and right...

...but I am quickly forced to confront the obvious.

I cannot risk it.

The darkness, in combination with the smoke screen being kicked up by the 'Coats flintlocks obscures my sight into the room, and Harper's location within.

And though I desire nothing more than to dispatch each and every one of Beaumont's whoresons to the depths of hell, the truth is that I'd be firing blind. And I wouldn't be able to live with myself if my bullet found Harper instead of a dragoon.

So, I have but one choice.

Flank the bastards.

Spinning 'round, I dash back down the length of the roof, bullets nipping at my coattails. Diving to the side, I return a pair of retaliatory shots in the general direction of the inn — careful to avoid the actual window — so the 'Coats are under no illusion as to the direction of my retreat.

Sliding down the thatch, I push off from the roof to land bodily atop the muck heap.

Not the most graceful of my escapes, I have to admit, but beggars can't be choosers. And I am pressed for time that I do not have.

Rolling off the pile of shit, I quickly sheath my spent pistols and lope towards the barn with sabre drawn instead.

Emile, the stable hand, had paid back my previous generosity by making me wise to the unsavoury nature of the guests that had descended on the inn. So, instead of hitching Drogon and the new palfrey up in a stall, I've taken the added precaution of hiding the horses out in the gorse.

But where I erred was thinking that the Greencoat patrol had sought the inn out for benign purposes. Because it sure as hell hadn't been me who'd plotted the course for them. In fact, I've always taken care to ensure that my tracks never led directly back to Harper.

Which begs the question... How the fuck did I end up walking into an ambush? With Gale strung up as bait?

My grip tenses on the hilt of my sword.

Someone had let the cat out of the bag. They must've. There's no other explanation.

Who? I have no clue. As there are a grand total of two souls who are privy to the secret that I frequent The Crown, and neither would betray me.

Not willingly, at least...

But, first things first.

Skirting along the shadow of the structure's perimeter, I arrive at the stable doors.

It appears quiet. But after being greeted by gunfire once already this eve, I am loath to take further chances.

Pinching up a handful of peddles, I toss them through the doorway. Only when no shots fire in reply, do I dare slip inside.

"Sir?" comes the hesitant query from within the shadows. "That ye? I heard musket fire an'—"

My sabre slices through the night. "Thought I'd be dead?"

The boy's countenance morphs into a mask of horror as the blade comes to rest 'neath his jaw. "Nay, sir! I'd never! I—"

"Care to swear on that?" I interject with a dangerous edge.

"On a tower of Bibles stacked on my parents' graves, sir!" Emile vouches with a tremble to his voice.

I assess the lad under the pale light of the moon. His face is ashen but his eyes glint with steadfast surety.

I lower my blade. "The 'Coats have Harper..."

The hand emits a gasp of disbelief. "Sacré dieu...!"

"...and I could use your assistance," I add, moving to the closest stall that houses a mount bearing Greencoat livery.

"Anything, sir," he proclaims earnestly. "Yerself an' Mistress Harper ha' always been good t' me!"

"Fetch a bag of oats," I direct as I grab the reins of the bay gelding. "And a length of rope if you have it."

"Right away, sir!"

While Emile sets about his task, I lead the Greencoat mount out onto the gangway. Reaching for the girth, I tighten it back up before slipping the bridle off and tossing it into the straw.

"The things ye requested, sir," huffs Emile, reappearing once more.

"Good," I approve, taking the sack of feed from him. "Now, help me lash this to the saddle."

Working in tandem, we quickly secure the decoy atop the horse. Shrugging out of my justacorps — on top of the retribution for Harper, that cunt of a Beaumont also owes me a new hat and coat — I sling the muck- and bullet hole-ridden covering over the sack to complete the trick.

"Think'll fall for it, sir?" asks Emile as he meets my eye from across the horse's neck.

"Better pray to God they do," I reply, slapping the mount on the rear to send it galloping out into the night. "Else this might very well be our last meeting."

Emile's throat bobs in consternation. "Best o' luck to ye, then, sir."

"Christ knows I'll need it," I accede, grasping his palm to press a gold ducat into it. "Now, make yourself scarce afore the dragoons show up."

With a quick nod, the lad disappears back into the gloom of the barn.

Withdrawing from the stables once more, I skirt 'round the far side of the building, careful to keep to the shadows. Hopping the low fence of the vegetable patch, I make my way towards the low door that leads into the kitchen.

Trying the handle, I find it unlocked. Pulling the heavy wooden door back, I slip warily inside.

The crash of boots above me confirms that the Greencoats have fallen for my ruse. But there is no guarantee that every last one of their dastardly lot plans to depart the inn.

Belvedere Beaumont may be a godless dog, but he is by no means a fool.

Which means I'll need to keep ahold of my wits... and weapons.

Pausing at the bottom of the short set of stone steps that lead up to the main hall, I spare a moment to quickly reload my flintlocks.

Slotting one gun back into my belt, I grasp the hilt of my sabre in one hand, and the second pistol in the other before ascending the stairs.

The hall is dark... and quiet.

Whatever patrons there may have been must've made themselves scarce upon the discharge of the first shot.

Honestly? I cannot blame them. I certainly would not wish to be caught on the wrong side of the dragoon's crossfire.

I clench my eyes shut. Please, let her be safe...

Moving through the hall like a ghost, I arrive at the main staircase.

Cocking my pistol, I proceed onto the first step with as much care as I can muster, even as every fibre of my body is raring to dash upwards as quickly as humanly possible.

Sticking to the wall, I inch my way slowly towards the second floor, flintlock before me, on guard for the faintest sound or movement.

Reaching the landing without incident, I am greeted by the wanton destruction left in the wake of the dragoon besiegement.

My jaw piques in ire.

This had been punition — pure and simple. The setting of a heavy-handed example to put the fear of God into the hearts of all those who may cross paths with Beaumont and his men.

A warning of what will befall those who dare defy the letter of the law.

I shake my head. I should never have involved—

A shadow moves in one of the rooms to my left.

Flattening myself against the wall, I sneak a peek through the doorway...

...and what I see roils my guts.

Robert Gale — the inn-keep — is hunched over the chest standing in front of the large, four-poster bed, his hands bound behind him, his shirt and hair matted with sweat. A dark puddle of blood pools at his feet.

Two 'Coats root through the things in the room, pocketing anything that catches their eye and fancy, sniggering amongst themselves.

A hiss of chagrin escapes me. "Putain de merde..."

There is punishment, and then there is persecution. And Harper's father is — without a shadow of a doubt — a victim of the latter. The extent of his wounds provides ample proof of Beaumont's abuse of his authority.

And I cannot allow myself to stand idly by in the face of this atrocity.

I step out of the gloom and into the doorway.

A floorboard creaks beneath my boot.

One of the dragoons glances up...

...but by the time his faculties have clocked the fact that I am foe, not friend, I have already splattered his brains onto the wall behind him.

His compatriot meets the same fate half a breath later, as he fumbles ineffectually for his musket, his body thudding to the floor as the second of my bullets also finds sharp and swift retribution.

Robert Gale's voice croaks out from the foot of the bed. "Ye should'a left them alone, lad..."

But even that simple act is too much for his broken body, and he starts to hack violently.

Taking three quick strides 'cross the room, I manage to grab the old man 'fore he keels over. "Easy now..."

He heaves a shuddering breath 'gainst my breast. "Now, we'll be strung up fer sure..."

"Nay," I counter softly, reaching behind him to loosen the bonds that secure his wrists. "You just lay the blame at my feet. Where it belongs."

Robert twists his neck up to regard me with bruised eyes and cracked lips. "Yer him... The Raven Rider..."

"Amongst other things..." I admit, lowering him as gently as I can to the floor.

The inn-keep hacks out a strained laugh. "Aye... I can see why she likes you..."

"Have you seen her?" I demand, shrugging out of my waistcoat to press it to the wound at his side.

"Nay," Robert replies hoarsely. "Not since they found the gold in her room..."

The icy hand of dread grips my heart. "Sweet Jesus...How the bloody hell did they even know where to look?"

"Théo..." comes the raspy confession. "He... He heard—"

I nearly choke on my own breath. "The window..."

We never closed the damn window...

Springing to my feet, I dash from the room, heedless of the sound of wood striking wood as my booted feet pound the length of the hallway.

How could I have let myself be such a careless fool!

Not only have I tarred the woman I love by virtue of our association, but I've unwittingly led the bastards right to her! And if they found out about the gold, then...

I cannot allow myself to even think on that.

Skidding to a stop in front of the last doorway, I throw myself inside...

...and skid to an abrupt halt as I lay eyes on the horror spread out before of me.

"No..."

The dogged denial slips from my tongue in a whisper.

But my lack of acceptance does nothing to assuage the merciless truth of the reality that assaults me like a thousand knives to my chest.

Harper lies prone in the moonlight, bound and gagged, her golden tresses soaked in the slick crimson of her blood.

"No... No..."

My feet carry me unthinkingly to her listless form beneath the casement — the window of which sits still ajar — and I crash to my knees at her side.

Grasping her by the shoulders, I pull her to me with trembling hands, praying under my breath, hoping against hope that it's a mere trick of the night, a cruel misjudgement, a sordid nightmare that I have somehow stumbled into, soon to awake from...

...but even though her skin still feels warm to the touch, no breath issues from her chest and those hazel eyes that once sparkled with magic and love now stare dully out into the night.

My nails dig into her flesh as my body bows over hers. "Oh, God... Please... No..."

But if the Almighty Lord hears my plea, He is either a heartless bastard or an impotent fraud because He ignores my beseeachment. And she remains unmoving 'gainst my heart.

"NO!!!"

The delegation roars forth from my chest with a force that is naked in its brutality. The heathen keen echoes out into the night as the bitter taste of anguish engulfs my throat and my soul shatters 'neath the stars.

I am too late. And she is dead.

Shot in the heart and left to bleed out on the cold floor like a dog. Alone. Without any assurances or prayer.

All because I'd allowed my heart to sway my head. Convincing myself that despite all my prior misdeeds, I could nevertheless steal a future for myself. A future I had no right or claim to. A future that was more akin to the spectre of a mirage than any flesh-and-blood destiny. A future that was doomed from the start.

Yet my covetousness knew no bounds. And blinded as I had been by the promise of the lie I'd weaved not just myself but Harper as well, I'd led us into the mire of disaster.

"It should've been me..." I rasp into her neck as anguish blurs my vision. "It fucking should've been me..."

I hear the floorboards strain behind me. But I care not. I have no words or sentiment left. And if it's one of Beaumont's enterprising men come to shoot me in the back? Well, then at least they'll be doing me the favour of putting me out of my luckless misery.

Because the knowledge that I have doomed the woman I love cuts deeper than any mortal knife could.

And I've lost the right to live anyway.

"Imma sorry, lad..." says Robert Gale, laying a calloused hand on my shoulder, his own voice cracking.

I shrug the gesture off. I don't deserve his pity. Let alone his succour. I am the one holding the body of his dead daughter in my arms. If anything, he should be setting on me to tear limb from limb in payment for my sins.

Yet, he does no such thing.

"Had I know afore tonight 'bout ye..." He heaves a hoarse breath from above me. "But I s'pose we all had our secrets... And I know it inna any consolation as of now, but we'll bury her 'neath the oak tree. Next t' her mother. That way ye can—"

"Them," I bite out through clenched teeth.

The old man shifts. "What do ye—?"

"She was with child," I grit, reaching up to pull the bloodied gag from her face.

Robert falls into deathly silence beside me.

"So, raise your hand," I tell him bluntly as I pull her eyes gently closed. "Beat me. Wring my neck. Kill me, for all I care. For this is the only opportunity I'll afford you to exact your just vengeance upon me."

"Ye must think very little o' me, if ye think I'd strike a grieving man," rebuts the inn-keep with a hint of steel. "Let alone one who loved my daughter so."

"Then you are a better man than me," I reply solemnly, leaning in one last time to lay a kiss on her lifeless lips.

"Imma'n older man," he corrects as I gently return Harper's head to the floor. "Who's stood where yer standin'. So, I can afford some clemency. 'Specially in this bitter hour."

"You might come to regret your choice," I reply, forcing myself back to my feet. "As I bring nothing but death. And our paths will not cross again after tonight."

"Where ye goin'?" comes the flummoxed query as I push past him.

I throw my reply carelessly over my shoulder. "To exact vengeance of my own."

"They'll kill ye, lad!" Robert calls after me as I stride from the room. "They'll hang ye fer murder! And her death will've been fer n—!"

"I'm a dead man anyway."

Without caring to look back, I let my boots carry me back 'cross the corridor to retrieve my weapons from where I'd left them in the master bedroom.

Reloading the pistols on the fly, I stash them in my belt and I beat a determined path back to the lower level of the inn and out into the night.

The crash of the door 'gainst the wall catches unawares the pair of dragoons that had been left to stand watch on the exterior. But by the time they turn towards me, I have already run both of them through.

Leaving the sods to bleed out in the mud, I plunge into the darkness rising before me.

The cold, winter air whips through my hair, stinging my eyes and my lips in sharp contrast to the hot blood slithering between my knuckles.

But I pay it no need. For I have but one goal. One mission.

To take every soul I can into the night.

Because death? It is all but assured for me. As whether I go by my own bullet or a Greencoat's, it is simply a matter of choice at this point. For I have no reason left to live.

My world turned to ash the moment she died. And there is nothing left to salvage.

Coming to a halt some ways off from the inn, I shoot a sharp whistle into the depths of the murk. A shadowy form raises its head from the gorse, and in the next instant, Drogon is trotting eagerly towards me, the new palfrey in tow.

"Change of plans, mon gross," I advise as he comes to a stop in front of me, breath steaming in the moonlight. "And I don't think you're going to like it..."

The Merèns regards me for a moment, as if sensing the shift in my soul, before letting out a world-weary sigh.

"You always were far too opinionated," I tell him dryly, reaching up to untether the palfrey from his saddle.

Turning the bay towards the stables, I give it a slap on the rump to send it on its way. With Harper gone, I have no further use for the horse. And Emile will ensure it is well cared for.

The stallion shakes his head at me as I swing myself onto his back. But I allow him no further opportunity for protest as I gather the reins in one hand, and point him north.

"Hue!"

Upon command, Drogon leaps forward, and the night becomes a blur as we fly across the moor, like an ill wish upon the wind, seeking our quarry 'neath the path of the stars.

I have no clue for how long we ride. The silvery eye of the hunter's moon casts an eerie pall over the land, distorting any earthly sense of time or distance as its lunar magic stretches shadows and swallows minutes.

Eventually, though, from out of the darkness and the mist appears a ghostly glow, bobbing on the brow of the hill.

"Beaumont," I growl, watching the company ride closer.

They must have caught the horse and realised the nature of the ruse they had fallen prey to.

But it matters not. The time for tricks and cons has passed. There is no more running... No more hiding. No more trying to cheat or contrive our fates. The last of the road has run out.

It is judgment hour.

Wrenching the flintlocks from my belt, I press Drogon forward, down into the valley, down into the well of our doom.

Yet a strange sense of calm blankets me as we draw level with the oncoming troop. Perhaps because my heart already stopped beating the moment I laid eyes on her. And this last, earthly act is merely a formality. Or, I'm so drunk on the potent potion of grief and bloodlust that swirls through my veins that I've become numb to all else.

Either way, I am a shadow of the man I once was. And welcome the sweet promise of release.

The reins slip from my fingers as I raise the pistols to sight my shot.

The figures of men and horses coalesce from out of the gloom, torches borne aloft.

I reach the edge of the sphere of light...

... and let the first shot fly.

The lead dragoon's eyes widen in surprise as the crack of flint 'gainst frizzen ignites the black powder in the pan, splintering the calm of the night.

The lead round explodes out of the barrel in a flash of smoke and fire, hurtling through the air to imbed itself in the soft flesh of the man's cheek, shattering teeth and bone as it goes.

The shock of the impact causes the 'Coat to jerk back on the length of his reins, pulling his horse into the path of its neighbour.

Taking advantage of the confusion, I fire another round into the heaving mess of bodies, catching a horse in the shoulder, causing it to throw its rider from its back.

Cries of horror and surprise rise up as the precisely stacked formation careens into itself, turning both man and beast into a maelstrom of panic.

Slinging the spent weapons into the night, I whirl Drogon back 'round, his hooves rearing into the air as he seeks to redirect the sharpness of his momentum.

Whipping my sabre from its sheath, a hellish howl erupts from my throat as I point the tip of the blade across the narrow divide in vengeful promise.

"BEAUMONT!"

A glint of gold flashes in the middle of the fray as my target snaps his head up at the sound of his name.

"Shoot him, you whelps!" screams the captain, grabbing for his own pistol. "Blast him dead!"

But I am already charging forward.

Shots crack out into the night as I bear down upon my mark...

...and there is but one prayer on my lips.

"I am coming, mon coeur..."

I am almost upon the wall of dragoons when I feel Drogon stumble. Another round pierces my gut a breath later. A third lodges in my shoulder.

But still, I urge the stallion on...

...until his knees give way in the face of the desperate volley of bullets and he careens into the mud, taking me with him, mere steps from my goal.

A thousand pounds of horseflesh crashes down on me, pinning my leg 'neath the weight. My sabre clatters from my hand to vanish into the tangles of the gorse beside me.

The back of my head collides with the ground, and I find myself staring up into the black expense above me, my body broken, my senses reeling.

Drogon lifts his head briefly, attempting to pull himself to his feet, before succumbing to the inherent futility of the exercise with a mournful sigh.

"It's alright, mon gross," I whisper, attempting to comfort the wounded beast lying atop me, even as my vision skips and my lungs struggle for breath as a familiar wetness drenches my shirt.

This is not the way I planned to go. But it seems I left what remained of my luck in that cramped room where my love had blossomed and then died.

Fitting, really...

A pistol clicks above me.

With the last of my strength, I reach beneath my shirt, where Harper's talisman lies coiled 'gainst my heart.

Twisting the damp silk 'round my finger, I close my eyes with a final exhale.

…look for me by the moonlight.

They say that in the depths of the dark — when the moon is high and full — that the sound of hooves may be heard, galloping 'cross the moor...

And though you may not glimpse it, a ghostly rider's there. Searching for his love, they say, who gave her life for his...

If he finds her, 'tis not known; but he made a solemn vow to her. And a promise bound in blood and silk, is a promise that must be filled...

Permatags

@twinkleallnight @lovingchoices14 @kingliam2019 @petiteboheme @angelasscribbles @aussiegurl1234 @nestledonthaveone @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @tessa-liam @alyshak92 @secretaryunpaid @princessleac1 @walkerdrakewalker @tinkie1973 @twinkle-320 @knaussal @nikkis1983 @lunaseasblog @ficloverevie @indiana-jr @differenttyphoonwerewolf @kristinamae093 @eversoaringqueen12 @peonierose @3pawandme @alexabeta @veebug8 @fanfiction-she-wrote @queenmiarys @lancelotsimp @coco-lina-s @lolablackwrites @ivyflowers13 @persephone13 @hollygirl1269 @adri-ja-96 @harleybeaumont @katedrakeohd @uneravine @alj4890

#harper gale #drake walker #the royal romance #the highwayman #trr au #song rewrite #choicesprompts #historical au

35 notes · View notes

atopvisenyashill · 8 months

Note

You said that you don’t like Jonerys, but do you see it happening in the books? Do you see them actually falling in love?

there is nothing about their personalities that has ever lead me to believe they’d be capable of tolerating each other for more than 10 minutes before a slap fight started. nor do i think jon will be amenable to making any more alliances with targaryens after aegon vi dies, especially with the North in such peril due to the others. that + sansa’s distrust of The Great Game & the people who play it + arya spending half her storyline in a city that hated valyria & it’s legacy of slavery + bran telling br he can take his borg hivemind and shove it all leads me to believe that the starks are gonna be petty at best & actively hostile to the iron throne at worst by the time dany lands.

and by the time dany lands…we’ll have the burning in vaes dothrak, which is likely to be a huge moral turning point for her bc as george said, her being unburnt was a once in a lifetime magic event. she’s likely ordering drogon to burn the khals which is so much different - and more villainous! - than just lighting a torch & watching the place go up in flame. we’ll have “to go west you must go east” which is going to involve her sacking a city with the dothraki. we’ll have the battle of fire in meereen & a team up with a greyjoy which just spells disaster. then she lands in westeros with an army made up of dothraki screamers, unsullied slaves, and headed by jorah fucking mormont and a greyjoy. i’m not even sure when she has the time to meet jon let alone get dicked down by him!

(part of my “snowspear is real” trutherism is that i think dany in the show was given like half of aegon vi’s plot. considering arianne is going to meet them at storm’s end, which is a hop, skip, and jump away from dragonstone, it makes way more sense to me that the main targ the starklings would be dealing with is aegon. i also think that jon finding out he’s lyanna & rhaegar’s as he’s dealing with rhaegar’s trueborn son & has completely thrown his lot in with the north is gonna hit way more emotionally than jon finding out he fucked his aunt. george does a lot with romance, this is true, but the main relationships in this series? they’re siblings! they’re parents & children! cersei & robert are haunted by the ghost of lyanna but lyanna has always been a stand in for robert’s love for NED. cat & ned’s relationship is doomed before it even starts by LYANNA and JON, not by a former lover! all three lannister kids wonder how their lives would have turned out if their mother had lived!! it’s about ~these ties that bind us~ it’s about the human heart in conflict with itself! i just don’t see how you pass up two unknown half brothers meeting & clashing & then finding out they’re related in favor of…a very predictable, very boring romance between your fire & ice coded mains).

tldr i still generally feel no bc i’ve never thought they’d get along very well, plus there’s no time, but i’m pretty ready to eat my words on that one and cringe my way through a sex scene between them.

#snowspear #ITS GONNA HAPPEN MORHERDUCKERS #anti daenerys targaryen #anti jonerys #again. not anti. just critical. i’m excited to see them clash!! that’s infinitely more interesting to me!!!#twow speculation #ados speculation #i actually had a whole rant to my sibling that i thought the romance ws invented in the show #as a shortcut emotional tie bc they axed aegon. and before i could finish the thought my sibling #who has never read the series but is very smart and reads a lot of dense fantasy. was like ‘oh it was invented bc they cut his brother that #makes sense’ akskdkdk LIKE?

68 notes · View notes

lullaebies · 2 months

Note

What colours do you think Jaehaera’s dragon was?? I know alot of people suspect black or a dark purple.

Okay so for me specifically I headcanon Morghul as black scaled with red highlights. Apt for a dragon named death, deliciously ironic for the team factions, if he's Dreamfyre's hatchling I can definitely see him looking like a mini-Drogon. And generally I like to have Morghul look like an absolute hellspawn. (Poor Alicent lmao) Other possible colors: as you said purple which is an idea that is growing on me, I heard someone say white before because Morghul can be referencing Minas Morgul in LOTR (I personally didn't read it but the place is mentioned to be glimmering silver and white by the moonlight). But generally for me I do go with the black scaled interpretation <3

#answered #jaehaera targaryen #morghul #if anyone has other colors for other reasons they want to suggest do it!!

21 notes · View notes

rainhadaenerys · 2 years

Text

So apparently they made Rhaenyra say "dracarys" to her dragon. It's the first episode of the show and they're already disrespecting Dany. To make things more clear, this is the origin of the command "dracarys":

"I was not sleeping, ser. Come and watch." She took a chunk of salt pork out of the bowl in her lap and held it up for her dragons to see. All three of them eyed it hungrily. Rhaegal spread green wings and stirred the air, and Viserion's neck swayed back and forth like a long pale snake's as he followed the movement of her hand. "Drogon," Dany said softly, "dracarys." And she tossed the pork in the air.

Drogon moved quicker than a striking cobra. Flame roared from his mouth, orange and scarlet and black, searing the meat before it began to fall. As his sharp black teeth snapped shut around it, Rhaegal's head darted close, as if to steal the prize from his brother's jaws, but Drogon swallowed and screamed, and the smaller green dragon could only hiss in frustration.

"Stop that, Rhaegal," Dany said in annoyance, giving his head a swat. "You had the last one. I'll have no greedy dragons." She smiled at Ser Jorah. "I won't need to char their meat over a brazier any longer."

"So I see. Dracarys?"

All three dragons turned their heads at the sound of that word, and Viserion let loose with a blast of pale gold flame that made Ser Jorah take a hasty step backward. Dany giggled. "Be careful with that word, ser, or they're like to singe your beard off. It means 'dragonfire' in High Valyrian. I wanted to choose a command that no one was like to utter by chance." - Daenerys I ASOS

Dracarys is not a word that every Targaryen used to command their dragons. It was a word specifically chosen by Daenerys to train her dragons, because it's not a word that it's likely to be said by people in their daily lives (people only really speak bastard Valyrian in their daily lives, not High Valyrian), so her dragons won't be breathing fire every time a stranger says something. It's also not some magic word that makes dragons in general breathe fire: Dany has to train the dragons herself to make them respond to the word. So it's a word that shows Dany's intelligence and resourcefulness when training her dragons, it's something that she came up with herself, despite the fact that she had no knowledge of how to train a dragon, it's not something anyone has taught her.

No other Targaryen has used dracarys. It's a word that Daenerys herself chose, it's a way to train dragons that Dany came up with. Making Rhaenyra say it cheapens it, both because it takes away the fact that using dracarys was something Dany came up with, and also because it makes it look like dracarys is just some magic word that makes dragons breathe fire, which takes away from the hard work that Dany must have had to train her dragons to respond and breath fire when they heard the word.

#daenerys targaryen #asoiaf meta #got meta #books vs show #my meta #anti got #anti hotd #this show barely started and i already have things to complain ugh

433 notes · View notes

intairnwetrust · 10 months

Text

Fourth wing random thoughts (Spoilers)

General Melgren could be is a venin

Violet's mum is a bitch and on top

Violet's mother controls storms, as soon as she got to the parapet it started raining and when she got off it stopped. What a coincidence. Did she tried to kill violet???

What if Andarna now has the ability to travel through time, sort of an extension of the ability she lost in the end?

My golden baby is grow up in the next book 😭✨️

Liam *CRYING*

Dain is the Gale of Fourth Wing

I don't know what to think of him. I don’t think Dain is truly bad inside but he would always but an order over Violet, just a loyal soldier who follows orders without question

He will either die or will have a character dovelopment where he doesn't follow blind orders

Xaden left her violets on her bedside table 🥺

I need a scene in the next book where Violet and Sgaeyl team up against their male hahaha

In general more teasing 😌

Fact is Tairn, Sgaeyl and Andarna are mother, father and daughter

Xaden and Violet are everything

Tairn = Drogon

Andarna = Syrax

#violet and xaden #fourth wing

122 notes · View notes

nightfury-2001 · 3 months

Note

really hoping they don’t make the dragons in the live action all generic and game-of-thrones-y

because in httyd the dragons are so shaped!! look at night furies and nadders and gronkles and timber jacks and thunder drums (and so many more that I could go on forever)

and that’s what makes them unique, their designs are so interesting and colourful and beautifully shaped and I hope they don’t make them generic and dull :(

Sameee HTTYD has such a unique and fun style and I'm very worried because it's just not a style that I can see translating super well to live action.

Like I love all kinds of dragons, including the dragons from GoT but I don't want to see Drogon rip-off #253 as Hookfang or whatever. That's not HTTYD.

#nf01 talks #reply #lil-dragon-draws #httyd criticism #httyd live action criticism #httyd #httyd live action

20 notes · View notes

witchthewriter · 1 year

Photo

𝑫𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒐𝒏 𝑫𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚

𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝑇𝘩𝑒 𝐵𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑧𝑒 ��𝑢𝑟𝑦

The great mount of Jaehaerys I Targaryen, who was the grandfather to Viserys I, Daemon and Rhaenys. Vermithor was a third-generation dragon, along with Caraxes, Dreamfyre, Meleys, Sheepstealer, Silverwing, Syrax and Quicksilver.

During the time of the Dance of the Dragons, Vermithor was the second-largest dragon in all of Westeros. Only slightly smaller than Vhagar, but larger than Silvering, Caraxes and Meleys. His body was bronze in colour and his flames matched. Vermithor’s appearance was more on the traditional side, with his build similar to that of Drogon and Meraxes.

The magic bond between dragon and rider reflects in their human relationships. Much like Daemon and Rhaenyra, Jaehaerys I’s sister-wife, Queen Alysanne Targaryen, had a mount of her own, Silverwing. She was Vermithor’s mate.

The Old King was the only rider of Vermithor, and all others who approached the dragon were killed by his flame. He always had a hot-headed temper and was never easy to tame.

𝒈𝒊𝒇 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒕: @aryasneedle.

167 notes · View notes

house-of-daenerys · 1 year

Text

84 notes · View notes

queenaryastark · 1 year

Text

The khal had commanded the handmaid Irri to teach Dany to ride in the Dothraki fashion, but it was the filly who was her real teacher. The horse seemed to know her moods, as if they shared a single mind. With every passing day, Dany felt surer in her seat. The Dothraki were a hard and unsentimental people, and it was not their custom to name their animals, so Dany thought of her only as the silver. She had never loved anything so much. -- Daenerys III, AGOT

I know GRRM said that no one has "warged" (likely meaning skinchanging in general) a dragon, suggesting that the way dragon riders control their mounts is different from how skinchangers control other animals. But Dany's connection to her dragons and her silver seem very close to skinchanging. Like here with the horse sharing a mind with her. Just riding the silver for the first time helped heal Dany's self-confidence just as being near Drogon's egg and dreaming of him mentally and emotionally strengthens her as well. It seems similar to Bran's health improving when his window is open and his connection to Summer isn't cut off (which leads to other questions) and to Arya gaining the strength to escape Harrenhall when she hears/feels Nymeria's howl during her conversation with the old gods.

But the magic systems in this series are so soft that I'm not sure there are specific rules on any level, so who knows lol

#daenerys targaryen #asoiaf

97 notes · View notes

serialadoptersbracket · 2 months

Text

Round 2, Match 3: Madoc vs. Daenerys Targaryen

Submitted kids:

Madoc: Jude Duarte, Taryn Duarte, Oak Greenbriar

Daenerys Targaryen: Drogon, Rhaegal, Viserion, Grey Worm, Missandei, the entire population of Slavers Bay

Propaganda under the cut!

Madoc:

1. “This ain't found family, this is forced family, 99% of all characters in their universe would have been better off without Madoc being anyone's parent at all--but with all that out of the way, impressively terrible though he is, he's no less of a dad for it. Peak evil family man here. He has three foster/adopted children--the lines are blurry here--starting with Jude and Taryn, miserable twin sisters extraordinaire, whom he, ahh, rescued from a difficult situation when they were young. Which is to say he murdered their parents in a fit of rage, evaluated the resulting scene, and decided that since they were his wife's kids and their actual parents were dead now, the responsibility of caring for them really fell to him. Later on, he got another kid by marrying, for complex political reasons on his part, a woman who brought an adoptive baby son, Oak (rescued from the corpse of his assassinated mother), with her. Madoc repeatedly uses his children as pawns, almost murders Jude a couple times, and kills one of Oak's birth parents too, but (and this is more condemnation than excuse) that's just in his nature, and he really does love his children, even though that generally makes them more screwed up. He's a very special adoptive dad and his parenting failures are spectacular.”

2. "His wife ran away with the blacksmith and took their daughter with her so he showed up at their house and murdered them, as you do. But then he felt really bad about leaving his ex-wife’s new kids alone so he adopted them and they had as fucked up a relationship as you would expect considering he murdered their parents. Also Oak, his second wife’s best friend’s son who she passed off as her son because his father was a prince. He’s there too and yes Madoc raised as part of his play for the throne yes he loves him (it’s complicated)

I find it very funny that his adopted kids (Jude and Oak especially) have these tumultuous complicated relationships with him like You hurt me I love you You’ll always be a part of me. Meanwhile his biological daughter Vivienne just absolutely hates his fucking guts."

Daenerys Targaryen:

"Is there any better example of a serial adopter than someone who has adopted an entire city? Daenerys not only is the ""mother of dragons"" with her three dragons being her magic children, but she's also adopted soldiers, polyglot preteens, and old man renowned for his honor, and three cities worth of freed slaves. She takes her responsibility as their mother (or ""mhysa"" as used in the books) extremely seriously, giving up her goals of reaching Westeros to help ensure that her freed children are able to function in Meereen (notably the books handle this situation much better than the show but the show's cultural impact is too big to ignore)"

#madoc #madoc tfota #the cruel prince #the folk of the air #daenerys targaryen #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #game of thrones #serial adopters bracket #round 2 #tumblr tournament #tumblr polls

16 notes · View notes

sunny12th · 8 months

Note

Your posts about Dany, ever since your post about what her three dragons represent for her in term of them being what she needed from each of the men she named them for etc, completely transformed the way I engage with Dany as a character from a psychological standpoint (that was sadly not much before). This fandom is so fixated on attacking her as a leader and politician and moral character and therefore as defending her from that that there often isn't room to appreciate the complexity of her psychology and the emotional aspects of her plotline as there is for every other character. Your fandom presence is so refreshing.

Thanks for sending this, I really appreciate it.

I agree that the fandom in general doesn't really engage with Dany as a young girl, let alone a victim of abuse. Her abuse is often acknowledged (usually to show how "gross" grrm is or the negative qualities of the dothraki though, rather than how it's impacted her as a character) but it's also often viewed as some sad note of her past rather than a wound that she still carries. Her dragons are physical representations of her wounds and her strength. Though I do hope grrm will have Dany really come to terms with everything she's endured. She's never been able to look away from other peoples pain but she can barely glance at her own. I expect a lot of her trauma to bubble up to the surface during her second round with the Dothraki, when she's proclaimed as the Stallion that Mounts the World or the mother of the Stallion (Drogon) or Whatever.

The fandom is very focused on Dany the leader, the politician, the Moral Character when her leadership stems from the fact that she was a young girl with no one to protect her. "Kings are meant to protect people." There is no Dany the Leader without Dany the Traumatized Kid.

And, yeah, the dragons are a giant messy bundle of psychological trauma and resilience. the dragon dream that "tempered her, scoured her, made her clean" on the night she resolved herself to suicide. She becomes stronger physically and mentally after this dream and it feels very much like Drogon was reaching through the veil to claim her as Mother, bathing her in fire (life) to stop her from choosing death.

Ultimately the fandom generally views Dany in very black and white terms which is frustrating because all of these characters are gray - but Dany can't be gray she either has to be the most Pure and Good Queen or an evil mad bitch that deserves to be put down for her own sins and the sins of her family. Her trauma is a part of who she is and it informs a lot of her actions. For example,, she's attracted to Daario because he reminds her of Drogo but this is a Drogo she can control and have power over. She can recreate her trauma, in a way, but this time she is safe and secure in her power and position. Daario is her mistress, and he's flirty but she controls when and if they become intimate. Sidenote: kinda drives me crazy to see people say Dany is attracted to 'bad boys' and aggressive men like yall this is part of the Trauma.

#granted that daario is a blue haired hottie with pronouns so like. of course she is attracted to him lmao #but the whole 'dany likes bad boys' thing has always rubbed me wrong bc it simplifies what seems to be a result of abuse #anyways!! thank you for sending this - i really appreciate it #it's nice to know my emotional rants arent just me throwing words into the void #<3 #anon #mine #daenerys targaryen #asoiaf

29 notes · View notes

goodqueenaly · 9 months

Note

I am on my third read-through of the series and am just LOVING all the delicious foreshadowing/backshadowing in Jon VI in ACoK. What's your favorite non-vision-quest chapter that strongly foreshadows events and revelations to come?

I don't know if this counts, but -

She wondered if Hizdahr was still king. His crown had come from her, could he hold it in her absence? He wanted Drogon dead. I heard him. "Kill it," he screamed, "kill the beast," and the look upon his face was lustful. And Strong Belwas had been on his knees, heaving and shuddering. Poison. It had to be poison. The honeyed locusts. Hizdahr urged them on me, but Belwas ate them all. She had made Hizdahr her king, taken him into her bed, opened the fighting pits for him, he had no reason to want her dead. Yet who else could it have been? Reznak, her perfumed seneschal? The Yunkai'i? The Sons of the Harpy? Off in the distance, a wolf howled.

Here is Daenerys, trying to figure out who wanted her dead and why. Daenerys has (correctly) figured out that someone poisoned the locusts in her box at Daznak's Pit, but is stuck on trying to explain the assassination attempt. While she acknowledges the seeming obviousness of Hizdahr as a candidate, Daenerys also (again, I think correctly) realizes that Hizdahr appears to lack the motivation to assassinate her - that, in fact, Hizdahr had every reason to keep Daenerys around, for the sake of both his interests and his (nuptial) crown. Yet Daenerys is no more able to light on a reasonable alternate candidate, and can only list various generally and/or vaguely antagonistic factions in and around Meereen.

Just as Daenerys is ruminating on equally implausible answers, the author introduces a wolf, unseen and far away but present enough to interrupt her thoughts. It is a deliberately jarring, almost incongruous moment: Daenerys certainly never encounters this wolf, and the threat of a lupine predator only briefly reenters her mind once more in the chapter. The story jumps from Daenerys' musings to the wolf's howling with a sharp immediacy, juxtaposing the theoretical considerations of a clearly political plot and the dangerous ambiance of the Dothraki Sea without any apparent justification for doing so.

Yet I think the author includes the howling wolf in this moment specifically to identify the person Daenerys could not - that is, the individual actually responsible for the poisoning at Daznak's Pit. After all, the chapter immediately preceding "Daenerys X" is "The Queen's Hand" - a chapter which features none other than Skahaz mo Kandaq in a "new" Brazen Beasts mask, "a wolf's head with lolling tongue". If Skahaz has not yet openly taken credit for the poisoning - instead cleverly using the naturally suspicious Barristan to frame Hizdahr for the crime and thus bring down his, Skahaz's, great political enemy - the Shavepate has slyly hinted as much (andindeed by using masks): when Barristan and Skahaz enter the Great Pyramid to depose Hizdahr, Skahaz has his Brazen Beasts wear locust masks, and even tells Barristan that he "ha[s] more locusts if [Barristan] need[s] them". Now, in "Daenerys X", the story allows Skahaz the same sort of subtle boasting: narratively transformed into the natural equivalent of his bronze disguise, Skahaz presents himself as the true poisoner, the solution Daenerys herself could not reach. If we do in fact get an admission from Skahaz on this point - and I would not be entirely surprised if he said so in the moments before he also kills Barristan Selmy - then we can look to this moment for the author's clue to that revelation,

#asoiaf meta #adwd #skahaz mo kandaq #daenerys targaryen

39 notes · View notes

twicelivedsummer · 2 years

Text

finding/inventing Dothraki personalities: Jhogo

compilation ; Aggo ; Jhogo ; Rakharo ; Irri ; Jhiqui

I’m making a little series where I stare at everything the main Dothraki characters do and try to discern personality traits. The purpose of this is sort of “if you were to write a fanfic that actually fleshed out their characters, what’s a starting point? what is there, that we might not destroy in trying to build something larger?” It is not to claim that GRRM, um, wrote these characters well. But I do dislike rounding down to zero when it’s not literally zero.

Particularly for Jhogo, who gets the most lines and traits of the bloodriders. I start here:

Jhogo edged back, his hand on his arakh. He was a youth of sixteen years, whip-thin, fearless, quick to laugh, with the faint shadow of his first mustachio on his upper lip. He fell to his knees before her. "Khaleesi," he pleaded, "you must not do this thing. Let me kill this maegi."

Jhogo looked terrified as he struggled with the stallion's weight, afraid to touch the dead flesh, yet afraid to let go as well.

Daenerys tells us what she’s seen of him, this whole year or so she’s known him: ‘fearless’. But now, in the face of magic, of true danger, he’s terrified. He’s been projecting this image of fearlessness that’s very important to him and it is not, actually, true. He’s just a kid, of course he’s scared; only 16, and how many teenagers aren’t self-conscious? It is a generic basic Dothraki trait, but in Jhogo it is established specifically, with some detail.

Jhogo took the whip from her hands, but his face was confused. "Khaleesi," he said hesitantly, "this is not done. It would shame me, to be bloodrider to a woman."

Unlike Aggo, he can actually imagine doing it, but it would shame him. The barrier is his sense of personal reputation. He needs people to see him as brave and strong and proud.

When he does pledge himself to her, it is

murmured, pushing his face to the smoking earth

like he’s still hiding it, a little. He’s not sure, maybe, if everyone else is really going to agree that this isn’t shameful.

Again with the “generic/basic Dothraki trait, in Jhogo established with some detail”, I can actually point to specific evidence for why he changes his mind about becoming Daenerys’s bloodrider. See, of the five named members of her khalasar, we only actually see Jhogo and Irri call Dany, in written dialogue, Mother of Dragons. Irri only once, and in a private conversation, whereas Jhogo—

[Qarth] "make way, make way for the Mother of Dragons."

"Make way, you Milk Men, make way for the Mother of Dragons," Jhogo cried

[Astapor] "Make way!" Jhogo shouted as he rode before her litter. "Make way for the Mother of Dragons!"

Jhogo cries it out, because this is the title he picks to tell other people respect her, she’s special. It’s not shameful to serve a woman if people know that she’s the Mother of Dragons.

Pure fanfic time: I would decide Aggo simply slots Daenerys into his model of society at the top, in a way that doesn’t destabilise the rest, and contrast that with Jhogo thinking of her as An Exception but in a way that does make him quicker to think of other women as Exceptions.

Speaking of ‘quicker’:

Jhogo replied, kicking his horse. Quaro and the others followed his lead,

Jhogo was the first to lay his arakh at her feet.

He moves first -

Pyat Pree drew a knife and danced toward her, but Drogon flew at his face. Then she heard the crack of Jhogo's whip, and never was a sound so sweet. The knife went flying, and an instant later Rakharo was slamming Pyat to the ground.

(after drogon, but first human)

One man kept his saddle long enough to draw a sword, but Jhogo's whip coiled about his neck and cut off his shout.

The whip fits him because of this: it is only dangerous when moved quickly; it lends itself to sudden interceptions—

The trader vaulted over the stall, darting between Aggo and Rakharo. Quaro reached for an arakh that was not there as the blond man slammed him aside. He raced down the aisle. Dany heard the snap of Jhogo's whip, saw the leather lick out and coil around the wineseller's leg.

—catching someone who moves to fast for all of Dany’s other bodyguards combined. It also ties into “quick to laugh”—he acts quickly. And maybe regrets it later or doesn’t.

(...he doesn’t. But, if you were, say, writing fanfic of their ADWD adventures, you could have him actually rush in too quickly to danger and need to learn some of Aggo’s caution, have Rakharo think up some strategy that Jhogo actually acts on, give them a whole dynamic.)

Jhogo asks five questions, in the five books. Three of them are:

"Jhogo asks if you would have him dead, Khaleesi," Irri said.

"What shall we seek, Khaleesi?" asked Jhogo.

"Khaleesi, we saw him strike you. Would you see the color of his blood?"

which are all proactive, asking for orders or outright suggesting a course of action. (Violence. duh. dothraki. thanks grrm.) Underline see and seek in there, too...

Jhogo spied it first. "There," he said in a hushed voice. Dany looked and saw it, low in the east. The first star was a comet

do you see the girl in the felt hat? There, behind the fat priest. She is a—" "—cutpurse," finished Dany.

this is an evil place, a haunt of ghosts and maegi. See how it drinks the morning sun?

He’s literally observant; he’s also the one who finds Qarth, literally coincidence but symbolically related. These are all concrete, physical, observations, to be clear, not a psychological or political meaning of ‘observant’.

...say, let’s compare some Jhogo statements to the other two, end of AGOT.

On Eroeh’s rape and murder, Aggo says “It was her fate, Khaleesi” like it just sort of passively happened; Jhogo describes the specific actions Mago and Jhaqo took. On Drogo’s khalasar dissolving, Rakharo describes the events and adds “It is the right of the strong to take from the weak” which draws out an abstract philosophical stance on it; Jhogo says "A khal who cannot ride is no khal" which contains the same idea but keeps it concrete, in the realm of specific action.

Jhogo moved close to help Ser Jorah support her. Aggo and Rakharo stood behind. The Dothraki offered a hand down. When she took it, he pulled her up onto his horse and sat her in front of him, Jhogo slid one hand about her waist and leaned close. "She is, and no spawn of shadows may touch her." Jhogo brushed Quaithe's fingers away with the handle of his whip. "You must not get any closer. Do not let them touch you! Do not!"

The hand about her waist in particular reads as romantic-interest-coded to me. So taking that framing back, pairing his actions with Jorah’s jumps out, moved close while Rakharo and Aggo stand back. Then we could sort of tie the two don’t-touch-her lines together—while the first truly has the vibe, ‘cause he is touching Daenerys, this just doesn’t really show up again after that one scene in Clash, because Irri tells him she’s sleeping with Daenerys so back off bro none of these characters actually have, like. arcs. V:

Mind you he’s a lot less scared of Quaithe than he was of Mirri Maz Duur, which duh she’s not performing blood magic right then but one could pretend there’s something arc-ish?

The ‘romantic interest’ frame also contributes to Jhogo’s overall narrative position, where he has mild Protagonist Energy: he’s the one who helps with MMD’s ritual, the first one Daenerys asks to be bloodrider and the one who finds Qarth and the only one who actually gets an extended conversation on-screen ever and the one taken hostage by Yunkai so might act independently in that plotline and generally the most likely to be singled out.

On a character level it’s because Jhogo has initiative, an essential trait of a leader. And I - almost believe GRRM might mean that? Technically all three of them are stated to be leading the riders into battle, off-screen in ASOS and ADWD, and for fanfic purposes I’d suggest having Jhogo take charge overall, over the course of their mission to liberate the hinterlands. But the fact that Jhogo is the one with the most lines, dialogue, actions - that when GRRM singles out one of them, it’s usually Jhogo - I can almost hope that we might see him one day in Winds, taking the lead on his own.

in conclusion,

Jhogo bought a handful of fat white cherries.

snacc.

(Aggo’s, right next to this, is meat, probably no traditional Dothraki dish but more like it, maybe, than choosing fruit?) (something you could plant?)

#Jhogo #ASoIaF #mine: text #Dothraki #valyrianscrolls

151 notes · View notes

bbygirl-aemond · 1 year

Text

Dragon Biology (Part 2): Skull Shapes

Hi everyone! I made a first post HERE where I explained that I wanted to do a breakdown of everything we know about dragon biology and the different variation we have. I just wanted to get into the science of it because I was curious, and I also wanted to see if the biological evidence provided support for any of the popular fan theories about which dragons might be related. As a reminder, here are the hypotheses we'll be investigating as we go along:

Vhagar -> Vermithor

Dreamfyre -> Sunfyre

Dreamfyre -> Drogon, Viserion, and Rhaegal

Syrax -> Arrax, Vermax, Tyraxes

In that first post, I discussed two aspects of dragon biology: Coloring, and size. Please check that one out first before reading this one, because I'll reference it in my final conclusions section! So let's get into it below the cut:

Dragon Skull Shape

Skull shape wasn't a category I'd really noticed, but the HotD showrunners explicitly said that they designed every dragon to have one of three skull shapes: That of a horse, that of a wolf, and that of a T-rex. As a side note, the easiest way to distinguish between these three is to look at the size of the forehead/nose bridge area, at the top of the head and kind of between the eyes. T-rex is the narrowest, and horse is the flattest/widest, with wolf as a kind of in-between. The jaw shapes are also slightly different, but I find the forehead the easiest way to tell. Also, remember that this describes general shape, and doesn't include any of the dragons' crests and horns, which have a lot more variation.

Let's start with the horse shape, with a very flat, wide space at the top of their heads, and a straight jaw with a more rounded chin. We have confirmation that Syrax is representative of this category:

These are the dragons whose visuals best fit that shape, with a picture of a horse skull for reference. This is interesting, because remember that the theory is that Vermax and Arrax might be Syrax's kids, and their shared skull shapes lend evidence to this theory.

Now let's move onto the wolf shape, with a slightly narrower space between the eyes and a straight, pointy chin:

These are the dragons whose visuals best fit that shape, with a picture of a wolf skull for reference. If you compare it with the T-rex shape below, you'll see that it looks fairly similar but has a few subtle differences; namely, that the top of the head is still flatter.

Finally, let's move onto the T-rex shape, with a very narrow space between the eyes and a more convex, sloping jawline with less emphasis on a super pointy chin. We have confirmation that Drogon, Viserion, and Rhaegal are meant to fit this shape:

(There's no picture of Viserion because I was being picky about the angle but we know he matches his brothers). I also think that Dreamfyre likely has this shape, going mostly off of her jaw. Again, this is interesting because of the theory that Dreamfyre was possibly the parent of Drogon, Viserion, and Rhaegal. The skull shape and crest situation definitely supports this theory.

There are two other dragons that I think fit this category; they look fairly different from these first three, but that's largely because of the crests along the jaw and forehead, not because of the actual contours of the skull. So let's take a look:

There's obviously still some variation within this category. I grouped Vhagar and Vermithor together because they resemble each other most strongly due to the lack of crests and horns (and also because otherwise the pictures would be too small lmao).

Final Conclusions

Okay so here I'm just going to go through all of the biological evidence we do or don't have for the hypothesis of dragon relations I mentioned at the beginning of this post. Then I'll combine this with any narrative evidence to provide an overall opinion on whether or not I believe each theory.

Vhagar -> Vermithor: Though not every aspect of their coloring is the same, the uniqueness of their scale color I think is cause to support these two being related. Both of these dragons are described as having the same size, which supports the theory. And finally, both dragons have not just the same skull shape, but the same presentation of crests and horns, which is distinct from the other dragons within their skull category. Overall, I think there's a fairly strong amount of biological evidence for this theory. Combined with the narrative evidence, and the fact that the ages line up, which I've discussed here, I firmly stand behind it.

Dreamfyre -> Sunfyre: There is some evidence within coloring (wings, specifically being the same pink color) to support them being related. These dragons are described as having the same size, which supports the theory. We'll have to wait until season two in order to make a determination about Sunfyre's skull shape, since we just have concept art that that's known to sometimes change a lot (think of the official Vhagar concept art, which looks fairly different from in the show). So for now, skull shape is inconclusive. The non-biological evidence for this theory is mainly the -fyre suffix at the ends of their names, as well as the fact that the ages line up just fine. Overall, I'm undecided on this theory, and want to wait until we see more of both dragons in season 2 of HotD.

Dreamfyre -> Drogon, Viserion, and Rhaegal: Coloring information reaffirms that the three brothers are related. In some ways (wing, eye, and crest color), it points to Dreamfyre possibly being their parent, but not definitively so. As mentioned above, I think size is inconclusive because though Drogon is bigger than Dreamfyre could have been at that age (she's definitively smaller than Balerion, who he's compared to), we don't know if Dreamfyre's size represents her true potential. The evidence behind the skull shape does actually support this theory; they not only share the same skull shape, but the same distinctive patterning of crests and horns along their jawline and likely their forehead. Because of the wing color, and because of just how unique their skull and crest patterns all are, I do lean towards believing this theory.

Syrax -> Arrax, Vermax, Tyraxes: Lastly, coloring doesn't provide positive evidence for Syrax being the parent of Arrax, Vermax or Tyraxes. But it does provide evidence that at least Arrax and Vermax are likely related, and probably as brothers, given what we observed about Dany's dragons. All of these dragons are described as having the same size, which supports the theory. They also have all of the same skull shapes, though Vermax and Arrax don't have the exact same crests that Syrax does (hers are very distinctive). So based on biology alone, I do believe Vermax and Arrax are brothers, and that they're likely Syrax's offspring because of their skull shape. And narratively I think the show has basically confirmed this, with the deliberate mention of Syrax's eggs being considered for baby Visenya in season 1 episode 10 of HotD. So overall, I stand behind this theory.

Hope you guys found this interesting! :)

76 notes · View notes