agogemod: (Default)
⌞THE AGOGE⌝ MODS ([personal profile] agogemod) wrote in [community profile] agogelogs2017-10-07 12:21 am

THERE WERE MASTERS AND SERVANTS,

WHO? Everybody!
WHAT? Prepare for the historic Battle of Valmy.
WHEN? Mid September 1792, France.
ANYTHING ELSE? Violence, as always. Please warn in subject lines for anything beyond physical violence, and move to a personal journal if things go beyond PG-13.




IT'LL BE FINE;
between sainte-menehould and valmy,
1792: revolutionary france.




DEPARTING JERUSALEM

The clean up of the battle is slog. A full day of piling together corpses. Noting down famous men and women. In the heat, the bodies bloat and become fetid, and the smell builds until it cannot be ignored. Insects swarm, and vultures blot out the sun, swooping down and taking back what's been left for nature. Stragglers and the poor pick through the field for scattered weapons and valuables to collect. The bodies of important men and women are taken for burial; the rest are left for scavengers, animal or human.

It's in this gruesome scene that the order comes:
PACK UP, GET READY TO MOVE OUT. THE TARGETS HAVE BEEN NEAUTRALIZED. WE MAKE OUR DEPARTURE LOCAL TIME, DAWN.

DEPLOYMENT: VALMY, FRANCE. IT'S GOING TO BE A WET ONE. WE ARE EXPECTING MORE TRANSFERS ON ARRIVAL.
The present COST soldiers that have been in strict cover begin finishing their work, if they've decided to help the army move out, tend to the wounded, or clean up after the dead. There is no sign of the Commander yet, but maybe you recognise some of your fellow operatives. They seem be taking advantage of a particular event that maybe you stopped to see, maybe you didn't.

Saladin beheads Reynald de Chattilion and his words fill the camp as much as the news of their next move.

A king does not kill a king, Saladin says to King Guy, and the orders run like wildfire through the camp: next they take Jerusalem, and it's in this march, that when the rest of the army moves on that COST slips away. A order to fall back in steady increments; when the time comes, Saladin's army is out of sight, marching toward Jerusalem.

In the midst of all of this, COST operatives begin to disappear, here one moment and gone in another. Such a strange sight, more than one native soldier muses, must be the fault of heat exhaustion.

The Time-Step

The transfer begins, and it starts like a vibrating heat on the collar bone, not painful, not to start with. Just a hum of sensation. But the vibration spreads. Veteran COST soldiers often refer to this phenomena as 'the buzz'. The sensation builds, feeling not unlike standing near a great engine, or the wind rattling the branches of a great tree. There is long a moment of motion sickness, and one cannot always be sure if it is you that is shaking from the inside out, or the world that is shaking you from the outside in. It may just be better to close your eyes against the growing nausea as the world blurs out of focus. A star shines in the distance. You may hear the faint rustling of leaves. Some swear they hear voices in this moment, indistinct words echoing off nothingness. Some swear they feel a touch of the divine. One thing is for sure: One moment you are here, and the next, you are not.

The soldier next to you might not have been so clever, when it stops and you find yourself standing in the green fields of France, September 1792. She or he throws up as the vibration fades. Everyone seems to stumble sideways for a second. The world turns, and then rights itself. The heat is gone, replaced with cold and wet.



ARRIVAL FOR TRANSFERS FROM JERUSALEM

It's raining.

You're inside of a tent, (another one), and it already seems to be bustling with movements, they call to you in French, which you understand if you did not already: hurry now, they say, you need out of that cuircass before they're spotted. The rest of the army will be following, and the Prussian army to meet it. There isn't much time to loiter around getting sick in this weather. You have a kit to pick up, and perhaps training to do.

ARRIVAL FOR NEW RECRUITS

The first thing you'll notice is the sound of rain. You awake in a tent that seems to be sheltering against the ruins of a farm house, and everything feels damp. It's a wet September morning in 1792, and when the woman across from you in the tent speaks, you understand it to be French. If you didn't understand French already, you sure do now.

If you ask, she'll explain: you are fighting for France, as the Prussian army intends to invade and sack Paris. You may be a citizen, you may be a soldier; you have risen up in defense of France all the same.

She asks you what role you wish to play in the coming battle, and provides you with clothes and supplies to suit. She won't let you leave until you can pass for a native of France, setting up camp in the rain pouring down between Sainte-Menehould and Valmy.

MISSION OBJECTIVE

The forces of COST have gotten word that Regency operatives have gone to Revolutionary France, intending to turn the tides in one of the most historically important battles in European history. The Battle of Valmy, which decided the entirety of the French Revolution and all that follows it, must be won by the French army, as it was in history.

Unlike the incident in Jerusalem-- you may remember it, you may not-- COST has managed to get here before the day of the battle. Make no mistake; it's coming soon. But this time, you and your fellow travelers have time to prepare.

The French Army has managed to get ahead as well; they've maneuvered around the Prussians, cutting off their supply lines. You and your fellow soldiers are now chasing the invaders as they head for Paris. This is time to prepare and ready your forces. The fight is coming soon.



STAY DRY, STAY SECURE
A few things are strongly remembered about the Battle of Valmy; one of them is the rain. It's really pouring out here, and you're in the thick of it. Rain is a dangerous thing for an army such as this; during this era of warfare, gunpowder was an essential commodity, and wet gunpowder is useless gunpowder. Secure the supplies, rescue supply carriages from muddy sinkholes, steer the horses, check supplies, and try to keep the essential materials for victory dry.
TRAIN UP
General Kellerman and Dumouriez are training peasants in basic military tactics. While veterans make up the core of this army, there are a substantial amount of peasants, and most here have never seen battle in their lives, or ever held a gun. Many are equipped with only rudimentary farming equipment. Help train or be trained so you're ready when the Prussian army arrives.
MEDICAL
Plenty of people need medical attention, not from battle wounds so much as malnutrition and overwork. These are mostly peasant laborers, and they're not entirely fit for battle. Help people get as rested and ready as possible.
ESPIONAGE
We have reason to believe some of the 'peasants' are actually Regency spies. Root them out by seeing keeping an ear to the ground for suspicious activity. They don't know all the words to La Marseillaise? Off with their head! Be careful not to attack time travellers on your side, though!
MORALE
Keep spirits high! Sing, dance, and generally try to keep people from succumbing to fear. Despite the rain and the mud, despite the seemingly impossible odds, the average soldier is full of excitement for battle, ready to fight to the death to defend their freedom.
SUPPLY AND SEEK
Since the French army is behind the invading force, they've cut off the enemy's supply lines. This means that, should the Prussians become encamped here for any amount of time, they won't be able to send for food and munitions from their home country. It's your job to make sure it stays that way. You may see someone riding on a swift horse in a Prussian uniform, attempting to sneak through French lines and try to get word back to mother Prussia. Chase them down, and make sure they can't get their reports back home so a second force isn't sent-- or worse.
BE A COMMUNITY ORGANIZER
This battle is one that's widely known for its popular support-- for the most part, France unites against this invading force with alarming cohesion. Someone gifted with a clever mind, or perhaps a clever tongue, may be able to use that. The French army passes farms and peasant villages along the way-- make rousing speeches, and try to recruit more to the cause, secure donations of food and weaponry, anything you can get.




dorzalta: (Default)

[personal profile] dorzalta 2017-10-12 10:55 pm (UTC)(link)
[ That, she thinks, is a sign of no good. So he'll be the harbinger of something terrible? She hesitates for a moment, watching him, before steeling herself and ducking into his tent.

It looks the same as hers, damp inside, empty, filled with meager belongings. If she closes her eyes, she could just as easily imagine it's hers. Refraining from doing so, her steps are light, careful to avoid kicking up water or mud as she circles a pallet. ]


I found it strange. When I was in Jerusalem, my last memory of you was when I'd demanded your counsel before attacking the Lannisters. [ Her fingers link together as she turns to face him. ] And then, suddenly, upon these lands I know nothing about, it was like a flash. One moment, I was here, and the next, I was back home. Life continued on, we continued on, and never of us had memory of this place.

Yet I recall everything in Jerusalem, and everything up until I stood in Dragonstone, watching the King in the North and my knight sail away.
northerndragon: (pic#)

[personal profile] northerndragon 2017-10-12 11:05 pm (UTC)(link)
[He listens. That's strange, that she has lived through more of their time together since Jerusalem, when he's only gone from there to here. The memories match... but how did it happen at all? There is very little magic in the world anymore, if there ever was. What, then, is COST? And why would they afford her more of her time, more of the things she's seen, than they had before?]

Sit, Your Grace. If you want to.

[It's an offer, not a command, but there's nowhere for them both to sit unless they sit together on the pallet. And things had changed between them after Eastwatch, not before, so speaking to her more formally seems right, even if it also makes this a touch more difficult.]

Nothing like that has happened to me, but I remember more than you do. We went to King's Landing after Eastwatch, and back to Dragonstone again, and sailed together for the North from there.
dorzalta: (Default)

[personal profile] dorzalta 2017-10-12 11:21 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Nearly allowing obstinacy to keep her on her feet, Dany tilts her head upon hearing his offer, inhaling to deliver her denial... until he speaks of his own experiences--things she cannot recall--and the same sensation as before arises. Trepidation. Lack of control. Curiosity.

Without fanfare, she'll settle upon the pallet, leaving enough space for him as well if he so chooses. Whatever is on his mind stays his words, and this she cannot abide by. If she can ease that, somehow... ]


We've met Cersei? [ That is one detail which sharpens her gaze. But oh, there are so many questions. Questions which have her twisting to face him, palms flat on the ground so that she can lean closer to him (if he sits beside her), or to ground herself as she stares up at him. ] And she accepted our terms?
northerndragon: (nobody did)

[personal profile] northerndragon 2017-10-12 11:28 pm (UTC)(link)
[He sits, but it's slow and reluctant. Even so, once he's next to her, he doesn't try to maintain any specific distance. He stretches his legs out in front of him, off to the side of the pallet, and turns his head to the side to look at her.]

She accepted our terms, after a time, and after she tried to break our alliance. She saw the wight and still nearly refused. [He pauses.] I don't trust her. I saw her once at Winterfell, long ago.... her smiles are false, and my sister Sansa, who knows her better, thinks the same. But we need Cersei's aid.
dorzalta: (pic#11766604)

[personal profile] dorzalta 2017-10-12 11:43 pm (UTC)(link)
She's the wife of the Usurper, the very same man who sent assassins to murder me in Essos. [ That should be enough explanation for Dany's feelings about Cersei. But break their alliance, as well? There's the flash of anger in her eyes, a coolness to them. ] She felled my allies, one after another. Dorne, Greyjoy, Tyrell.

[ Shaking her head sharply, she huffs a sigh. No, fully placing her trust in Cersei would be foolhardy. He's right, though: they do need her aid.

Something softens about her as she watches him now, and her tone is equally as soft, as if she toe a subject which might cause him pain. ]


What happened beyond the Wall? You said I flew north. That the Night King was there.
northerndragon: (really?)

[personal profile] northerndragon 2017-10-12 11:49 pm (UTC)(link)
We took the wight well enough, but we were soon surrounded, trapped on a half-frozen lake. I'd sent someone back to Eastwatch to send a raven for your aid. We lost a few men... no one you know.

[He's choosing his words carefully now, and seems weary and grim.]

But you came for us. You came, with all three dragons.
Edited 2017-10-12 23:49 (UTC)
dorzalta: (Default)

[personal profile] dorzalta 2017-10-12 11:55 pm (UTC)(link)
[ And? The question hovers between them, her eyes roving over his face. Resisting the urge to scowl at him for his evasiveness is a true battle, and one she nearly loses. ]

Yes, I imagine I would bring all of them if you'd requested my aid. Jon-- [ A note of exasperation in her tone. ] --tell me.
northerndragon: (can't climb to heaven on the cross)

[personal profile] northerndragon 2017-10-13 12:02 am (UTC)(link)
[He takes a heavy breath, then exhales it, steeling himself for her pain and her anger. This was something that had been hard enough to see and hear, intrinsically wrong, the pained shriek and the fire and the gouts of blood pouring off the dragon as it had died. But to have to tell her about it... that's a new and keen punishment.

He looks her in the eye, his face twisting in sympathy as he says the words with a small shake of his head.]


Viserion fell. The Night King took him down.
Edited 2017-10-13 00:03 (UTC)
dorzalta: (pic#11766624)

[personal profile] dorzalta 2017-10-13 12:21 am (UTC)(link)
[ For all that she expects to hear, Viserion fell is far from it.

He takes her by surprise, a sharp, sudden thing that has her rearing back, spine stiffening. Her head cocks like a bird's, brows furrowing, an unguardedness to her gaze as uncertainty flashes briefly in blue eyes. ]


No. [ It's a sharp and jagged word, honed enough to draw blood. To draw something harsh in the face of his sympathies. His pity. ] My dragons cannot fall. That's impossible.
northerndragon: i don't have time for frivolity. i have to hurry up and die. (drained the blood from my heart)

[personal profile] northerndragon 2017-10-13 12:56 am (UTC)(link)
It should be impossible. I wish it had been impossible -- I wish we'd never gone.

[The words come out dully, and he glances away from her face to look at the ground.

He tries to remember the things he'd said to her after he awoke on the boat, after all of this, his apologies in the face of her tears, but that time is half a haze of exhaustion and ache. She'd told him that the dragons were the only children she'd ever have, and he'd clung to her hand, and... what? Bent the knee and tried to call her Dany, he thinks, one thing she'd liked and another she hadn't. If there was much else, he can't remember it.

He looks her in the eyes again, insofar as she's willing to meet his gaze.]


I'm so sorry.

[It's a heartfelt apology. What more can he say?]
Edited 2017-10-13 04:00 (UTC)
dorzalta: (Default)

[personal profile] dorzalta 2017-10-15 10:02 pm (UTC)(link)
I'm so sorry. When has she ever heard his apology for something? When has she ever heard him sound so heartfelt, so regretful over something he's done? That, she thinks--his look, the tone in his voice, the way he behaves, what he says--is what makes the truth settle into her mind, like a missing puzzle piece. Not a perfect fit yet as she fights it, but close.

Dany stares at Jon for an achingly long time, as if she were nothing more than a statue. If she were stone, even the mere hint of Viserion... Her eyes go glassy, nose burning, and she's pushing to her feet with violent force, pacing back and forth. She wrings her hands together as she steps, wiling away the tears gathered in her eyes.

Only when they're gone does she kneel before him, leaning impossibly close, staring him in the eye as she clutches his shoulders. The dampness of the ground seeps through the fabric of her dress and she pays it no mind... just as she ignores the tremble to her, to her words as she says:

Tell me everything.
northerndragon: (uhoh)

[personal profile] northerndragon 2017-10-15 11:57 pm (UTC)(link)
[At first, as he sees the truth sink into her and eventually find acceptance, he expects that she'll run out of the tent... run somewhere else. If Drogon were here she might disappear on his back, but as it is now, she might lose herself in the countryside. It surprises him that she only paces and wrings her hands.

He sees that she's about to weep and that she's trying not to. What can he do? He might have refused to tell her of Viserion's fate, but that would have been wrong. She isn't the sort who likes to be treated like a soft girl; for all her delicate beauty, she's a queen, and she doesn't like to be spared bad news.

She'd cried in front of him before, but that was after he woke up to find her next to his sickbed... something she doesn't remember right now... and it hadn't seemed that she was doing so willingly, only that she could no longer contain her tears.

But then, all of a sudden, she's nearly in his lap, hands on his shoulders, close enough to kiss. That's nearly unthinkable right now, yet the thought comes unbidden, and he pushes it away. He meets her gaze, and speaks more softly and less reluctantly.]


Thousands of wights surrounded us, wave upon wave of them. I thought we were lost. You came, and the dragons killed a great many, though their fire also weakened the ice, and the wights kept coming, so many I had to fight them back from you.

The Night King had been watching us since well before the wights attacked... he was a distance away. You were trying to help the men up onto Drogon's back, I was fighting, and Rhaegal and Viserion were flying above. He had spears of ice and he was throwing them himself.

[That had given him an impression of terrible strength, one that surpassed even his previous understanding.

He bends his left arm at the elbow and curls it to place his hand over her hand on his shoulder.]


Viserion went under the water in the lake. I would have killed the Night King then and there, but I couldn't. He was too far and too protected and I saw a second spear... he had his sights on Drogon. I told you to go, and I tried to reach you, but the wights were too many. They took me into the water too.
dorzalta: (Default)

[personal profile] dorzalta 2017-10-16 12:39 am (UTC)(link)
[ If Drogon were here, she'd be in the skies, flying until she went numb, until any tears she shed turned to ice on her cheeks. She would fly until the rawness inside of her reflected on the surface as well, telling all those who would think to approach her to leave. But he is not here, and she is alone in this strange place, separated from her children, armies, and advisors. She is here, and she is unwilling to see the smallfolk of these lands as the news Jon shares settles.

Earlier, she'd worried that Jon and Drogo were both here. What was she to do with a dead husband come back to life and a man she--those worries are inconsequential in the face of this news.

As Jon retells the battle, there's a moment where her composure shatters. A moment where her eyes well with unshed tears as she imagines Viserion struck by a spear and plummeting into the frozen waters. How terrifying it must have been. The pain that must have caused him and his brothers... His and Rhaegal's shrieks echo in her mind from the days of their imprisonment in Meereen. How would his brother have taken such a loss?

She ducks her head, taking a quivering breath. Composure. She needs composure. It would do no good to show her ally such weakness.

It is not the spear which struck Drogon in the breast. A man-made spear cannot cause that sort of harm, could not fell her children in one strike. But the Night King's spears of ice? Her dragons are fire made flesh, magic brought to life. A child's tale--no, a nightmare--should not have this sort of power. He should not have killed her son. ]


The Night King took from me. [ And from the sounds of it, she'd stolen from him, as well. She'd stolen Jon from him, and Jorah as well. ] And then he thought to take another of my children? [ Her fiercest? When she finally looks up at him, though her eyes still remain wet, there's something harder in her gaze, something colder, chilling the blues of her irises into flecks of ice. ] And you survived the fall into the water. How?
northerndragon: (my mind is racing)

[personal profile] northerndragon 2017-10-16 12:57 am (UTC)(link)
[At the moments when her composure threatens to crumble, it's hard to keep looking at her, but he does, with sympathy and something else, and he presses his hand against hers.

Once, he strokes her little finger with the pad of his thumb, in a half-conscious attempt to offer some comfort that he doubts she'll admit to needing, but that urge fades when he sees the steel in her eyes.]


The wights can't cross water unless it's ice. They were easier to fight off, and when I got out of the water, you were gone, and the rest were leaving.

[This, more than anything, tells Jon that he and the others had somehow been bait for a trap for her, one that he still doesn't fully understand. Maybe it's only that the dragons are the best chance for the living, and so the Night King would see them dead if he could -- as many as he could.

But how had he known?]


There were enough left that I wouldn't have made it on my own even if I hadn't been soaked and frozen all the way through. But I had an uncle who was a ranger in the Watch... he disappeared on an expedition not long after I joined. Everyone thought he was dead. He came for me; he put me on his horse and took on the wights himself.

[This is where his memories are more of a fog. There had been something wrong with Benjen's face, as Jon recalls it, as though he had looked like half a wight himself.

That can't be right, can it? Yet how would a man survive so many years alone beyond the Wall? Even the Halfhand hadn't survived so many, not without coming in to one of the manned castles at all.]


I rode back to Eastwatch, but I don't remember anything else until I woke up on your ship.
dorzalta: (pic#11766403)

[personal profile] dorzalta 2017-10-22 10:53 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Liar! She wants to shriek, while pounding on his chest. He's not dead, he can't be!

...But why would Jon lie about this? What use does he gain for telling her such a tale in these lands? If he looked to fell her, he could just as easily snap her neck without her guards nearby... and he'd had far too many opportunities back home, back at Dragonstone, for him to do the same.

Though his touch is sudden, it's not unwelcome. His hand curls over hers, and it's only in that moment she feels a fraction less likely to shatter as her thumb loops around his fingers. And what his touch cannot soothe, time provides the rest--given not long enough a moment to reflect over this, to begin fathoming the loss of Viserion. ]


We left you. [ Her voice wobbles, betraying her, and she thinks she hates him for it. For all of this. Yet hating him would be impossible now, when she so vividly recalls the acute sense of loss as he'd turned his back to her, striding away to fulfill his task up north. ] I'm sorry. I don't know how I could have.

[ Not unless the Night King truly was trying to take another of her sons. He'd lost family as well, and no matter the mystery of whether an uncle survived or not, to be reunited and torn apart so quickly is still a loss, still difficult to face.

Equally as difficult is to meet his gaze, but she forces herself to. It's difficult to hide all she feels about what she's been told, and she tries, oh she tries... but sometimes, it cannot be enough. He would find what he wished to, as she suspects he always would. ]


I'm glad he found you. That you were able to come back.
northerndragon: least clear marriage proposal ever (that one shot of their hands again)

[personal profile] northerndragon 2017-10-23 01:33 am (UTC)(link)
[He hadn't been with her like this the first time that these emotions had overcome her... not with her face just inches from his, not with little to distract her from the first rush of her rage and grief. He had been fighting and she had been about to fly, and then, he hadn't seen her again until he'd recovered consciousness some time later.]

You left me because I told you to leave me. [His tone is gentle, yet it dismisses the idea that he was important enough to worry about. She doesn't know how much he feels like he lives on borrowed time, or that he doesn't know why he isn't dead. The time that has been given to him will run out sooner or later, and he won't know when until it happens; he only knows that at that moment, he wouldn't have traded her life or that of another dragon for his own... the idea was and is unthinkable. Maybe his purpose was only to bring Daenerys Targaryen and her dragons over to the cause of the living; maybe that would have been an end on it.] It was the only way. When you see it, you'll understand it's the only way.

[He holds her hand and, when she raises her gaze to meet his, tries to read the look in her eyes. The look in his is a question. She's close enough to kiss, but her heart is broken, and he isn't sure that he should.

He's known for a while that he loves her... that his hope for one kind of alliance has, day by day, turned into a hope for another kind. He'd tried to ask her that day, with his throat seared by the wind and ice and his body feeling like he'd lost several fights in a row, but he hadn't been able to make the words right, so that she would know in her bones that he was hers in any way she wanted him.

But she doesn't remember it, or what happened after: the meeting in the Dragonpit, the talk of children and family, the agreement to travel together from Dragonstone to Winterfell. She doesn't know how it's sung along his nerves since then. When COST pulled him away, he still didn't know whether or not she loved him in return, only that they were coming closer rather than pushing apart.

His voice comes out softer when he speaks again.]


But I'm glad, too. That I was able to come back. You told me then that we'd destroy the Night King, and we'd do it together.
dorzalta: (pic#11766458)

[personal profile] dorzalta 2017-10-23 06:21 pm (UTC)(link)
[ She shakes her head. ] It's not what I meant.

[ To explain it: that she could leave him, as she likely had to keep Drogon and Rhaegal safe, was not the same as mentally steeling herself to. To face the guilt, loss, and compounded grief upon the thought of him... of him dying that day, as well. Alone. Abandoned. Hopeless. Perhaps another time she would explain, after she's had the opportunity to absorb all of this, to truly allow the news to settle. When the unease in her stomach ceases churning, and the jagged hole in her heart ceases to moan so loudly for a dragon still safely resting on the cliffs of Dragonstone. ]

He was meant to do so much more than my brother ever could. [ Wetness remains pooled at the bottoms of her lids, not quite enough to roll down her cheeks, but enough to frustrate her over their presence. Jon has a question in his eyes, there's so much in those eyes, too much for her to grasp at this very moment. But she tries. She tries to focus on him and less on-- ] To bring honor to his name. To avenge our family. To be revered and loved.

[ Because Viserys... He'd despised her too much to ever allow her to love him the way Viserion had. ]

We will. Together.

[ If nothing else is true of all this, her promise to ally with him would be. She knows herself, knows that these actions and events he speaks of are not things she would do lightly. To overlook the threat of Cersei? To march into northern lands versus the south? The loss of one of hers would push her for revenge, to fell this Night King, to introduce him properly to fire and blood. ]

Just as we'll return home together.
northerndragon: (break the silence)

[personal profile] northerndragon 2017-10-24 11:22 pm (UTC)(link)
[He knows that, in telling her this, he's giving her a chance to make different decisions: to only take Drogon, or to ignore the raven from Eastwatch, or something he hasn't thought of yet. But if it's possible for her to do that, then how is it that he still remembers the same things? She would be changing his past. No matter what she does, he's sure that at least one dragon taken north of the Wall will be felled by that great and implausible strength. He's also sure that she needs to see the Army of the Dead to properly understand the threat.

He tells her because he has to -- because it would be wrong not to -- and because now that they've come this far, he believes in her. If she says she intends to stick to their plan, it must be true.

The tears in her eyes are his fault and not his fault, but seeing them still works at him. They seem to be for her brother, or her dragon, or both. Either way, they're the only answer he sees to his question, and they say to him: not now, and he can't really feel disappointed. He wants to comfort her over something that has left her inconsolable. Everything else says Maybe someday.]


You'll do those things, Daenerys. You've brought honor to your name. You're revered and [a hesitation so slight that it's almost unnoticeable, with no accompanying squeeze of her hand or caress of his fingertip] loved.

[Home, though... to him, that's Winterfell, the only real home he's ever known. It's not her home, so she can't mean it's where they'll go after the Night King is defeated. She must mean that they'll return to Westeros from wherever COST has taken them.]

We can't know how to get home until we know how we came to be here.
dorzalta: (Default)

[personal profile] dorzalta 2017-11-12 03:22 pm (UTC)(link)
[ The tears in her eyes are for Viserion. He is an extension of her. Her power, manifested. More than that, however, he is her child insofar as raising a hatchling could become one. Rhaego was but a taste of what bearing her blood into the world could be. How many happy moments were there, as her belly rounded and she'd felt his little kicks? As Drogo had pressed his hand to that curve, pride blaring in his eyes? It was a reminder of simpler times, where she would obtain the family she'd always craved. Viserys was cruel; nevertheless, he was still alive. She wasn't alone.

Mirri Maz Duur took any hope that remained after Viserys' death. She took any opportunity to revive the Targaryen line from her, thus leaving Dany with three dragons as her only children. Her throat works as she attempts to swallow, choking back those tears. Rhaego was gone, and now Viserion was gone. Would she lose Drogon and Rhaegal as well?

She already has, being here, forced to follow the whims of an organization she doesn't understand. ]


The Targaryen line dies with me.

[ Her hands slip away from his shoulders, falling onto her lap. She meets Jon's gaze, and in that brief moment, her grief nearly swallows her whole. But she clears her throat and pushes to her feet, because being near him as he speaks of bringing honor, of being revered, of earning love--it feels both true and false.

None of those things matter in this place. ]


Then we discover how they took us. [ Pacing. When her back is to him, she reaches up to brush away the wetness from her eyes. ] If that means winning the others to our side and eventually interrogating the Commander, we shall.
northerndragon: (nobody did)

[personal profile] northerndragon 2017-11-16 03:06 am (UTC)(link)
Daenerys... the word of a murdering witch doesn't mean your family line is ending.

[Their conversation about her family, her barrenness, is another thing she doesn't remember. It was a few days before his own memories of home run out, the day they were in King's Landing, a place he'd never been and never thought to go to.

She pulls away from him, and he notices how she waits until her back is turned to wipe her eyes.

He's not sure what he's lost. Some of their rapport, certainly, which twists at him in a way that makes him wonder if he was mistaken about her at home -- if she'll close the door of her cabin in his face if he comes to her. Or it may only be that she hasn't yet experienced the moments that made him sure of her.

It's also true that Ghost would be very useful to him here, but is unimaginably further away, further even than if he were north of the Wall.

Apart from those things... it seems from her experience that they'll still be able to fight the Dead when their term with COST is over, and that his being here may not doom his family or the North or anyone else.]


Interrogating the Commander isn't a bad idea, but she holds the power here. It may be that she'll give the information freely, in time... she may not be our friend, but it may not follow that she's our enemy, either.
dorzalta: (Even while we sleep)

[personal profile] dorzalta 2017-11-17 01:01 am (UTC)(link)
[ Her reaction is instant. The lurching of her stomach, unguarded surprise widening her eyes, lips parting on a sharp exhale echoing around them. He knew of this? Her mouth works, and then she thickly swallows. Tyrion would not speak of this. None of those in her counsel would make mention of her burden, which means-- ]

How much did I tell you of her? [ she asks softly. Why had she made mention of it?

It's fortunate there's distance between them--not because she wishes to be far from him (something to reflect on at a later point), but because surely her fingers would be digging into his shoulders as she reached for something which had seemed unobtainable on the shores of Dragonstone. ]


I suppose it doesn't matter. [ She shakes her head, arches a brow. ] You don't agree with it.

[ A ball of frustration tightens in the pit of her stomach. He recalls things she cannot, and they are the sort of memories that would be impossible to conjure without proper background. There's no use in struggling against this, it's a losing battle in the face of so many other things they struggle with here. He is her ally, and clearly, enough has happened back home in his time that she trusts and confides in him.

Frowning, Dany settles beside him on the pallet again, smoothing her skirts as she tucks her legs against her side, careful not to track muddied boots on the fabric. It angles her toward Jon again, allowing her to study his profile. ]


Perhaps she will, but we don't have the luxury of time. [ Patience was not always her strong-suit. ] She keeps us here, against our wills, dragging us from continent to continent. You wouldn't deem someone like that our enemy?
northerndragon: my seat. my hall. my home. my command. a ruin. (all my memories are poisoned)

[personal profile] northerndragon 2017-11-23 07:48 am (UTC)(link)
I don't agree with it. But you only told me that much. [He comes to a halt there, breathes, and decides to offer more before she asks.] We were in the Dragonpit. You didn't much like the place -- what it had meant to your family, in light of your fear that you'll be the last.

I haven't told you anything today that you didn't know then. But apart from our decision to sail North together, I don't know what comes after it. I don't know what we'll find when we reach White Harbor, or even whether the seas will be rough on the way.

[She's closer to him again, and those words make him feel a little melancholy: he knows what he had hoped to find on the voyage.

He crosses his arms over his belly, frowning, then looks back to her.]


As to the Commander... [A long, contemplative, closed-mouth sigh.] She doesn't seem to think we're her slaves. But you do.

[That's it, isn't it?]
dorzalta: (with fears)

[personal profile] dorzalta 2017-11-23 04:04 pm (UTC)(link)
[ That they traveled south is enough to send her reeling. To be so close to the throne upon which she seeks? To see the pits where the fiercest to the pitiful of dragons resided? All these things he tells her is too, too much to wrap her mind around--but also so essential, like a man dying of thirst and drinking water for the first time in days. She's desperate to learn all of it.

A shuddering exhale. A pause. The words spill from her lips when she meets his gaze, sharp like daggers until she feels as if her lips bleed; but when the first word is uttered, she cannot stop. ]
I carried Drogo's child when we met her. Rhaego, for my brother. The Dothraki believed he would be the Stallion Who Mounts the World... and she murdered them, both of them with blood magic.

[ Many a moon has passed by this point, and yet to speak of these events still causes pain, but she maintains a neutral expression. ]

Drogo's been dead. Yet this Commander has the power to bring him back. [ She does not look happy about this. ] I don't trust magic, and I don't trust her. She's no need to act as if we're slaves, Jon. Some masters loosen the yolks enough to convince their slaves they are free, to make them malleable. It doesn't change the fact that we're still expected to follow her will.

[ That's it, exactly. ]
northerndragon: produced for only one year and ambiguously replaced by warden of the north edition (jon snow: king in the north edition)

[personal profile] northerndragon 2017-11-25 02:31 am (UTC)(link)
[Neutral expression or not, the way she breathes -- the way she's always behaved with regard to this topic -- makes her unhappiness in relation to it evident. And all her unhappiness twists at him more than he would like, more than is helpful right now.]

The power to bring him back, and the power to bring you and me here from different times, so that I remember things you don't. There's little mystery in that, apart from how it was done. He isn't back from the dead, he's here from... before. Just as you are.

But that's still a power in itself. The real question is: what happens if we don't follow her will? I mean to, for now, but there may be a time when I can't anymore.
dorzalta: (Default)

[personal profile] dorzalta 2017-11-25 04:12 pm (UTC)(link)
Drogo's last recollection from 'before' is one I cannot recall. I've no way of accounting for that mystery.

[ There is no happy topic: neither mention of a child stolen from her, nor the knowledge that she is far less powerful in this place. ]

What does any master do with an unruly slave? [ she asks, gaze steady. ] You're right in viewing us with some power--even a slave has it, though he or she may not realize it when beaten down on a daily basis. We'll use that to our advantage. When we reach the point of clashing with her will, we'll be prepared.

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