"𝑊𝑜𝑙𝑓'𝑠 𝐵𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑑," their father always called it. Could make a man or woman wild in a sense, unpredictable, and powerful. And when a violet-eyed twin born to the Lord Eddard Stark, all knew that the boy would have it. And he did.
Beside his...
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꧁It was safer to travel by night rather than by the day. The heat had been harsh to them all. And she had thought once that she loved the heat. All her thoughts drift on food--good food. Good food, cold water, and a bath of ice. She would gladly climb the highest mountain in the world if it meant she could feel the cold. At night, the Red Waste still felt harsh and violent, but at least it were safer to travel.
Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen, she thinks almost bitterly to herself. A name that once commanded something. But what do I command now? I cannot even command the worthless dirt around me. What kind of a Mother of Dragons am I if I cannot even feed them?
It was true. Her children barely ate anything, and Daenerys felt helpless. She tried to think of all the stories that Viserys had told her when she was but a child and in the times that felt as though they were yesterday, even though she knew that it had been months since her brother's death. Since the last dragon had died..
But Viserys was not a Dragon. Viserys, First of His Name might have been one, being the last to mount Balerion, but the Viserys Daenerys knew as her brother was but a shadow of a snake. A poor imitation of Rhaegar. But what was she in that? She was the last chance for a dynasty. She was the last Targaryen in the world. Would her fate turn out to be like that of Rhaenyra? The first and last Queen to sit the Iron Throne of Westeros? But Daenerys could not even imagine it. A thousand swords, it was said to be made from. Her ancestor Maegor was killed by that chair, and a thousand others died trying to obtain it. Was she to end up like them?
But Daenerys couldn't imagine it with nothing but endless sand in front of her.
