Dąεŋεŗγş Sŧσŗɱɓσŗŋ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thebrideoffire) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
westwhere2022-01-27 12:23 am
thebrideoffire) wrote in westwhere2022-01-27 12:23 am
"Darkness reigns at the foot of the lighthouse."
WHO: Daenerys, Five, Jon Snow, Mingyu and Lee Chang
WHEN: January to 1/28
WHERE: The Lighthouse (Plot Roll Stuff!)
WHAT: The mirror calls and must be assembled
WARNINGS: Violence, mind control, dragons, talk of death. Anything else will be added.
Drogon's habit of bringing gifts from the lighthouse had increased. It was still only trinkets and tattered bits of clothes, often singed, but something he was clearly proud of. The influence of the lighthouse still seemed to hold him, as he often flew off even as Daenerys called to him. Using a stern voice, showing the whip once in desperation, none of it stopped Drogon from flying to the 10th floor.
What was truly disturbing was that Drogon often seemed to circle around, low to the entrance of the lighthouse, screeching at her, as though demanding she follow him. For several days, Dany resisted, knowing that whatever was in the lighthouse was likely to be some curse or ill omen. Had it not enchanted them into paranoia and greed? No one had been hurt, but actually stepping foot in there might trigger something far worse.
Or she might find something worse.
Much like the House of the Undying, there was a part of her that wanted knowledge. She wished to know what was inside, what magic was fueling it and why it seduced her dragon so easily. That thought, along with the alluring call of something, haunted her dreams. Each time she woke, she had to question if it was dragon dreams or something more?
The fourth day, she followed Drogon, hesitantly crossing the threshold.
The atmosphere was heavy, but still humming with...something. The surroundings weren't very pleasing. There was dust, cobwebs and everything you could imagine in a land that seemed almost dead. Each floor did not improve. There were no visions, no sounds really except some sound of glass in the distance.
Drogon flew ahead, screeching whenever she fell behind. Step by step, stair by stair, she climbed. One floor passed and then two; higher and higher, she followed her dragon as he called to her, luring her ahead with a dark promise. It was an enchantment in itself. A part of her wished to find that last right door, the one in the House of the Undying that lead to the center of it all, where the Undying waited for her. Here, it was less clear what she would find, but there was at least a promise with the Undying.
The scene she found was an odd one. Unnerving, true, but also...rather beautiful.
There was a mirror on the floor or rather the shards of it and Five seated in the middle of it all. Light glistened over the different shapes of glass, some small and some large, all varying in grooves and curves. It was no simple puzzle, but Five seemed intent on assembling it, solving the mystery of it all.
"What is this?"
WHEN: January to 1/28
WHERE: The Lighthouse (Plot Roll Stuff!)
WHAT: The mirror calls and must be assembled
WARNINGS: Violence, mind control, dragons, talk of death. Anything else will be added.
Drogon's habit of bringing gifts from the lighthouse had increased. It was still only trinkets and tattered bits of clothes, often singed, but something he was clearly proud of. The influence of the lighthouse still seemed to hold him, as he often flew off even as Daenerys called to him. Using a stern voice, showing the whip once in desperation, none of it stopped Drogon from flying to the 10th floor.
What was truly disturbing was that Drogon often seemed to circle around, low to the entrance of the lighthouse, screeching at her, as though demanding she follow him. For several days, Dany resisted, knowing that whatever was in the lighthouse was likely to be some curse or ill omen. Had it not enchanted them into paranoia and greed? No one had been hurt, but actually stepping foot in there might trigger something far worse.
Or she might find something worse.
Much like the House of the Undying, there was a part of her that wanted knowledge. She wished to know what was inside, what magic was fueling it and why it seduced her dragon so easily. That thought, along with the alluring call of something, haunted her dreams. Each time she woke, she had to question if it was dragon dreams or something more?
The fourth day, she followed Drogon, hesitantly crossing the threshold.
The atmosphere was heavy, but still humming with...something. The surroundings weren't very pleasing. There was dust, cobwebs and everything you could imagine in a land that seemed almost dead. Each floor did not improve. There were no visions, no sounds really except some sound of glass in the distance.
Drogon flew ahead, screeching whenever she fell behind. Step by step, stair by stair, she climbed. One floor passed and then two; higher and higher, she followed her dragon as he called to her, luring her ahead with a dark promise. It was an enchantment in itself. A part of her wished to find that last right door, the one in the House of the Undying that lead to the center of it all, where the Undying waited for her. Here, it was less clear what she would find, but there was at least a promise with the Undying.
The scene she found was an odd one. Unnerving, true, but also...rather beautiful.
There was a mirror on the floor or rather the shards of it and Five seated in the middle of it all. Light glistened over the different shapes of glass, some small and some large, all varying in grooves and curves. It was no simple puzzle, but Five seemed intent on assembling it, solving the mystery of it all.
"What is this?"
no subject
“I love the North. I love my family. Duty does not trouble me.” He pauses, then adds, “Don’t tell me duty means nothing to you.”
It does — it must. Some of the things she’s said to him since he met her make it clear.
no subject
She shrugged, not bothered by the question. It certainly was hypocrisy to criticize his focus on duty when she had only married, opened the fighting pits and pursued peace because of duty. "It suffocates me sometimes." But she was her brother's sister and Rhaegar...there was a reason he did not in it in him to be happy.
"Have I insulted you?"
cw vague allusion to suicidal ideation that happened in an earlier thread.
He’s aware that, for many other men, the answer would have been yes. He’s equally aware that he hadn’t asked for her opinion about any of this. He does not especially dislike her playfulness; it’s only that he is unsure of how to respond to it. In the past, it’s always meant that a woman wanted him for a lover — and he had only loved one woman, even when she was scattered to the wind.
Still, it’s better to see Daenerys playful than trying to destroy herself. If duty suffocates her, then her playfulness is easier to understand. Might be that it is less an attempt to pull him into her sleeping sack and more an attempt at lightness.
“But I don’t know what it’s like, to be the last Targaryen. Don’t know what it’s like to be a princess — or a prince. Don’t know what it’s like to take a city. My duty and yours — they’re not the same.”
no subject
Did she desire him? He was intriguing, sometimes frustrating, but altogether pleasing. He reminded her of someone, but she couldn't call him to mind. It was like he was a shadow to her. But given the amount of men in her life, complicating everything, adding another might be...confusing. More than that, it was unlikely Jon Snow thought of her as anything as a potential ally.
"Wasn't there a time that you believed you were the last of your House? Loss and loneliness, you carry that." She held out another piece for him, placing it in his hand, her fingers brushing his.
no subject
He takes the piece she hands him, then frowns down at the shards he’s assembled, then turns the piece this way and that. If there is a match for it, he can’t see it.
“But you’re right. I would give my life for them, for my people, without a second thought. When I was a boy, I wanted glory… I wanted to prove to people that even a bastard might have honor. Now…” A shake of his head. “I was a fool. But most boys are, in one way or another.”
no subject
"I would save you have proven that." He is king now, isn't he? His father must have said something that day? "Perhaps it was foolish or perhaps not. The dreams of childhood are something that I cannot tease. When I was younger, I wanted to become a sailor. I told my brother that once-" She broke off, not wanting to think about his response.
"Are you missing a piece?"
no subject
“What made you wish to be a sailor? All I ever wished to be was — well, something I couldn’t be.”
no subject
Through begging, which broke Viserys more and more.
"There might be more of your pieces in my pile."
no subject
He shifts his attentions to her pile of shards, and indicates his own with a gesture. She should sift through it. She should see if it has anything she needs.
“Did you like the sailing here? Before we were in the little boats with the candles.” He cannot imagine that anyone much enjoyed that. “I have sailed so little in the past. The only time I ever took a ship — “
Hesitation, then, “It was no happy journey.”
no subject
"I liked it before I fell into the water." Thinking about the cold was enough to summon it, making her shiver. "Sailing through those waters was unnerving. I wonder if it is anything like sailing through Asshai." To go west, you must go east.
"Where were you sailing to?"
no subject
Doesn’t he?
“Hardhome. It’s a bay, a little port town that the Free Folk have north of Eastwatch. I met with them there, leaders from the clans left after Mance was killed, to propose that they settle in the Gift.”
He does not say more than that.
no subject
"Any luck?" She asked him, turning back to her corner. One piece attempted, but she overestimated its size. She gingerly placed it back in his pile. Another piece, but it was oddly shaped and likely needed something smaller. Progress had slowed, but eventually they would find what they needed.
no subject
“All the Free Folk who weren’t already at Castle Black were there. Some took what I offered; some did not. But when the Dead came down on us, on everyone gathered there, they made no distinction. It was a massacre.”
no subject
If there was one thing she know about Jon Snow, empathy wasn't much needed, not when he might sense it. What he likely wanted was a reassurance that they would do something about all of this.
"In this time, we might as well strategize how to provide for large forces. We will need wood, fire. The North is not known for many exports, I believe? We will need the Reach."
no subject
He makes a little gesture meant to show that it is like enough to be a problem.
“So many Northmen died with my brother Robb when he was betrayed in the Riverlands. So many farmers. It means fewer mouths to feed, but fewer hands to bring in the last harvests, and fewer fighters.”
no subject
Though...there was an idea.
"As I said, I have many old, wounded, both men and women. They are Dothraki and former slaves, but perhaps if they were given the empty farm lands? They would work the fields and help provide, but also contribute to the North's resources."
no subject
“The lands they come from, they are warm?”
no subject
She smiled flirtatiously at him, "And as you say, many of the men have died. The North must have resources and hands to till the land. Do you intend to conjure them from thin air?"
no subject
All this while, he has been searching for a match, and now he thinks he might have found one. He slides one piece of glass near another two, then forgets, precisely, that he ever climbed the Wall with Tormund and Ygritte.
no subject
It was asking for more trouble, as she learned in Meereen, but it was a solution. "Their children will thank them for it and their old will live longer than they might otherwise." His Freefolk were apparently there, part of his army. It was possible to reconcile.
There was a shard next to his. Eagerly, she snatched it up. When it was put in its place, Daario faded from the back of her mind. Not that Jon hadn't pushed him aside quite easily.
no subject
“The Gift is a great swath of land, the twenty-five leagues south of the Wall, given to the Night’s Watch at its formation for its support. Those living there pay their taxes to the Watch, not to any other lord, for the support of the brothers there. King Jaehaerys doubled it by adding the New Gift.
“The soil is not good, but it was farmed for many centuries nonetheless. Not so much in recent days — the Watch’s strength is much diminished, and with the raids by the Free Folk, those who could leave it often did. It is not hospitable, but it is land, and if we could find people to work it, that would be to the good.”
no subject
"Would you...would you consider making a map for me, so that I might have a better idea of the geography?" She might be able to determine better where battles could be fought, where would be the least civilian casualties, but most of all, learn her land.
"Even with men and women to tend the farms, we will need food and grain quickly. You should consider approaching the Reach as well for an alliance. They are more likely to see an advantage and there are things I could see to help pay." It would mean selling much of her finery, but what need did she have for it?
no subject
“I’m no mapmaker. But I can show you some of what I know — I’ve spent enough hours bent over this map or that, in my time. As to the Reach — “
He pauses. He can’t remember whether he told her this before. “You have an alliance with them. With Lady Olenna, and with the Dornish, too. Everyone with reason to hate Cersei Lannister.”
no subject
She did remember him saying that, but she often discounted it. It seemed unlikely that a Tyrell cousin or a Redwyne would not have taken over Highgarden, if all of the prominent members of House Tyrell were dead. As she couldn't understand how Cersei Lannister claimed the crown. Dorne didn't sound like the Dorne she knew.
Never mind that. The mirror consumed her more.
"I wonder if Quentyn Martell made it back to Westeros? The last I saw him, he was in Meereen." The poor frog.
no subject
He concentrates on the shards for a moment, then, without looking up, says, “What was he doing in Meereen?”
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)