DAENERYS "sᴛᴏʀᴍʙᴏʀɴ" TARGARYEN (
decisiveconquest) wrote in
prismatica2020-01-04 12:25 am
(Video; UN: motherofdragons)
(Sanguis has blessed her and no one can tell her differently. Daenerys is standing before a mirror, running her fingertips over the horns protruding from her head. However those additions do not thrill her as much as the leathery wings on her back.
If her smile makes you feel a bit uncomfortable, that is understandable. The scales on her cheeks and the fact that her blue eyes are anything but human don't help matters, however there is an undefinable quality about her. Perhaps this isn't a blessing after all.)
Am I a monster? (Her hands shake as she presses her talons against her cheeks.) Is this...me? Have I always been this?
If her smile makes you feel a bit uncomfortable, that is understandable. The scales on her cheeks and the fact that her blue eyes are anything but human don't help matters, however there is an undefinable quality about her. Perhaps this isn't a blessing after all.)
Am I a monster? (Her hands shake as she presses her talons against her cheeks.) Is this...me? Have I always been this?

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(It doesn't matter what anyone says. She hears their screams and she is reminded of the foul spell placed upon her.)
Was it all I had? I could have taken Drogon somewhere else.
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[He doesn't know the circumstances, only that he's a soldier. Men, women, children... it didn't matter they all bled the same. He had caused plenty of casualties.]
You could have, but you didn't. You shouldn't be afraid of your choices, no matter how difficult they were to make.
[If he was there, he'd be offering his hand.]
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[He could feel his temper swelling a bit, so he takes a breath. He was projecting a little, railing against this idea that they were tied to the legacies of other people who they shared blood with.]
What you did - if it was wrong, then it was wrong. You can either spend your life punishing yourself for it, or you may as well have stabbed yourself instead of him.
[Which might be a bit hypocritical, considering the poetic he waxes about his own horrible life choices.]
We can't bring the dead back to life, no matter how much we might want to.
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Daenerys nods at his conclusion about Cersei.) She would have tortured us until she grew bored. I'm not saying she didn't deserve what I did to her. I won't apologize for that.
(It's the rest that haunts her. The color leaves her cheeks at the harsh words.)
I can't atone for it. I can't do anything about it. I would feel better if I could.
(This is a punishment in and of itself.)
I've lost my certainty.
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[He should know. He had struggled for so long: against the voices in his head, against the whispers of his parents behind closed doors. In the end he embraced who he was. He was a monster, the same as her. There were times that Rey made him feel less so, but he knew who and what he was. It was how he survived.]
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(Daenerys is challenging his views on a smaller scale, but that is where it begins. Person to person and perhaps person to self too.)
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[It was the armor he had fashioned for himself, even if it now made him miserable to wear it. For a moment he actually looks sad, but he pushes it down again just as quickly. He refused to be the frightened boy who had fled the burning remains of his uncle’s temple anymore.
When he speaks again the fierceness and defiance in his tone is gone, replaced with something softer.]
But... you may do as you like. We can continue having these talks of monsters and regrets.
[He just wasn’t ready to be who she or Rey wanted him to be. There wasn’t a single part of him that saw himself as anything other than the monster.]
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(She has awoken nightmares for him and that bothers her. If he feels like she does about some of his past actions, his defensive anger is an important part of him being able to carry on. Without it, he might crumble.
One of them crumbling is more than enough.)
If you're not completely repelled by how I look, of course.
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[He's all too happy to shut his brain off for a while. Ever since his conversation with Hux he's been a bit on edge and feeling frustrated that Daenerys would call herself a monster only helped that. This was better. They didn't have to think about heavier things.]
I'm not much different. I just don't have horns yet.
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(Fly to him, actually. But she should probably put on more clothes. Wearing only a robe isn't appropriate, though it is a lovely shade of purple.)
Maybe I can help you find your horns.
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[Would their clothes be staying on anyway? That seemed to be their way with one another: no talking, no clothes, no strings. He was almost grateful for it, though he's sure assuming they can stay like that will only hurt her in the end. He really was a monster.]
They seem like it would take some getting used to. I'm almost picturing myself catching them on door frames.
[He is 6'4, after all.]
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It would be worthwhile. You could learn to duck or spend most of your time outside.
(Or lying in a bed while a certain lover of dragons pays attention to all of his changes.)