agogelogs | [CLOSED: KEBECHET PLAYER PLOT] A thousand armies couldn't keep me out

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[CLOSED: KEBECHET PLAYER PLOT] A thousand armies couldn't keep me out

WHO? Everyone involved in the plot to abduct Kebechet from the Regency villa!
WHAT? All the pertinent information is here.
WHEN? Somewhat after the return from the Eclipse and the discovery of the destruction of the COST villa and Grothia's abduction.
ANYTHING ELSE? Each group should write its own starter, but I've linked the pertinent information for everyone so you're not flying blind.

Those who had been abducted by the Regency in Gallipoli managed to escape, but their experiences -- interrogation, intimate psychological torture, and sleep deprivation among them -- left them hungry for revenge. Their tormentor, Kebechet, also made an appearance on the COST network while they were being held, and her insults, manipulation, and disdain managed to anger even more of COST's operatives.

It's not that there's been an uneasy peace since both the Regency and COST have been working on their objectives in Jhashch; it's more that hostilities have mostly stayed at a relatively low buzz, played out in the arenas, or the deaths of the Aranean noble family most sympathetic to COST's cause. But a few things have changed that. A COST operative, Hei, learned that Kebechet has been present on Jhashch, disguised as the meek little shabti secretary who follows Mhic Nathair around (in reality, Kebechet's rank is much higher than that of the woman she pretends is her boss). He wasted no time in passing this information on to one of the abductees, Daenerys Targaryen, the sort of woman who's full of kindness until you give her good cause to turn you and everything around you to ashes.

Much like the Regency just did to COST's villa, and to their Commander, Grothia -- a real shabti herself, escaped from her creators, helping to lead the fight against them, not someone merely acting the role of one of the Regency's clone-slaves.

Using the BCE¹, Daenerys and several of her friends and fellow abductees recruited willing and able help from among other COST members, until they arrived at a plan. Breaking into several teams, they would create a significant distraction near the Regency compound, sneak in, drug and abduct Kebechet... and use PASIV technology to try to get into her head.

After that... well, before Grothia's abduction, when Daenerys approached Grothia for permission for the operation, Grothia had strongly implied that it could only end in Kebechet's death. And Mordred is involved, which makes the chances that Kebechet will walk away at the end almost infinitesimal.

¹ Handwaved.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I'm not her commander or her lord, and she didn't take me. Didn't do much to me but insult and threaten me and our world. She took you, but you're back in one piece. And with her like this... [he looks at Kebechet, across the room, bound, not looking big or threatening at all]... it wouldn't be right. Not for me to do it. It should be one of you who she took.

As to the war... the commander was right. We have to cut the head off the snake and burn it. Killing shabti won't do it. Getting the ymir won't do it, but it would be a real start.

-- Where the snake's true head is, though... I don't know if we'll ever find it.

Edited 2018-07-05 05:01 (UTC)

Perhaps not to kill her, but it's still enough. [ She doesn't turn to look at Kebechet. Of all the things she pictured, the mask-less woman is not it. It sickens her, if nothing more, than because if there was more time, maybe change could be brought about.

Or maybe she is as broken as her brother had been, before he'd died. ] The Commander is dead. That would be more than a valid reason to.

[ As for the snake, she frowns. ]

We can't do this forever.

It might be. A valid reason. [It's a concession on his part.]

She's been dead since we took her, if not before. But it's not that she kills our commander, so we kill her, and then there's another reprisal, and so on and on. It's that they're looking to kill all of us always.

If we do this for our children, taking the chance that they're real, we can't do it forever. And I can't --

[He presses his lips together like he's clamping down on his next words, and he shakes his head once, heavily.]

[ She's silent, head tilting, eyes widening just enough to encourage him to finish that thought. But just in case-- ]

You can't what?

I've seen as many battles in these last months with COST as I'd seen in my whole life until then. There's more waiting at home.

It's not easy to watch people try to kill you over and over. Oh, I know you don't like me talking that way. I don't want to stop you from doing whatever it is you want to do. But if you die --

[He looks sad, and tired, and it hasn't occurred to him to reverse the sentiment today. In some ways, he was made to fight, raised to it.]

[ She makes a face, readying to counter his comment about people trying to kill her, but he beats her to it, continuing on.

...And that's the crux of it. She feels the same way about him, how he fights, how he walks straight into battle. He'd been injured in the arena match and she'd felt her heart jump into her throat, threatening to suffocate her. He was the one who had died, before they'd ever met.

Fear dogged her every step as a child, as a young girl, up until the point where she'd learned the Usurper was dead and she'd learned how to be strong. Without thinking she's stepping closer, into his space. The hand not in his is curving around his neck, tugging him closer to meet her for a kiss. ]

People have tried to kill me my entire life, [ she says, voice impossibly soft when the kiss breaks. There's no need to repeat all she's lived through, nor the things he has. ] We will survive this, and what waits us at home.

[He kisses her, then says so softly that his lips move against hers,]

You always have more faith than I do.

[It's easier to have faith when you haven't seen how easily you can die. You have to see it to know.

It's not something he wants her to know; it's not a faith he wants her to lose. Let her keep this fierce belief that we'll win in the end.]

[ Her lips twitch, the hint of a smile. ]

I suppose I've enough for us both.

[ She's seen enough death to know she wants no more of it. But Kebechet is here, and she must die. With a quiet exhale, she leans back just enough to catch his gaze. ]

You'll learn.

[He leans his forehead down to hers, heedless of the rest of the people in the room.]

Might be that I will, if I have you to teach me.

Edited 2018-07-06 01:46 (UTC)

[ Her eyes drift shut, and she leans into him, her fingers just grazing the ends of his loose curls. ]

You certainly will, then.

Would that I could, I'd have made you my totem.

Your totem? I don't understand.

[To any outside observer, they're just standing there wrapped up in each other. He puts the palms of his hands on either side of her jaw.]

Edited 2018-07-07 01:51 (UTC)

[ To any outsider, it's likely the most affectionate either have ever been publicly. Dangerous to be doing this here and now. So very, very dangerous, and yet she can't stop herself from soaking up his attentions like a flower showered in sunlight. ]

When you enter the dreams, it's easy to mistake them for reality if the architect is convincing enough. The totems are meant to remind you which realm is real versus the dream.

Are you saying you don't dream about me?

[His expression is as wry as it might be, under the circumstances.]

A way to anchor you to what's real and true.

[ Her look suggests any dreams she has of him are far more pleasant. Even so, she lightly grips one of his wrists, pulling his hand from her cheek so she can press a kiss to his palm. ]

If you forget, you can become lost in those dreams.

I prefer the real you over my dreams of you.

[She knows of some of his dreams... the Wall, the rising Dead, the Night King... but not all of them, not of the burning castles, or of all the things he knows that Ghost knows.]

There was a time when I had good dreams of you. And bad ones, where someone shot an arrow at you and you fell from the sky. Why didn't you use me? You wouldn't have known what was real?

I fell from the sky? Was I riding Drogon?

[ One more kiss, and then she pulls back, aware that this is not an appropriate place for overt affection. ]

It has to be a personal affect. Something only you are familiar with, so that if someone infiltrates your dreams, they cannot replicate it.

You hadn't sprouted wings. Yes, you were on Drogon. Sometimes I dream that the whole world is on fire. Sometimes I dream that it's frozen. And if that's the way of the totems, then I would have been a poor one.

Edited 2018-07-07 22:37 (UTC)

Did Tyrion see fit to make mention of me being struck? Is this why you've dreamt of it?

Do you dream these other things often?

No one can replicate you. They would be the poor ones.

[Before he answers her, her sweet words nearly make him blush. The look he gives her is complicated, abashed.]

Not just him. Mormont, some of the others. It's the fear everyone has. I dream all sorts of things, Dany. About myself, my home, my family, our world, the Army of the Dead. And lately, you.

[ The look she gives him is smug, satisfied. ]

I see. I've flown into battle countless times atop Drogon's back, and not once have I been struck by an errant arrow. Drogon has protected me. He will continue to protect me.

I'd rather not dream at all, if all of mine were about death and the world in flames.

What do you dream about? Other than you, I don't dream of anything else.

I don't always dream.

[ Back to curling her fingers with his. Keeping him closer. ]

I dream of you, and what life might've been like. Sometimes there are hatchlings, sometimes there are children. I dream of flying, with my own wings, or on Drogon's back. I dream of my mother and brother, as well.

I've always wondered about my mother, what she might have looked like or been like, and wished she was a kind lady, gently born. I knew that she was, when I was a boy. Now I have to admit that I know that she probably wasn't. But yours must have been much like you.

[Dany's parents had been brother and sister; it may be uncomfortable, but it's the truth.]

She might still be. Westerosi beliefs and customs are far different from many others across the sea, and even in Dorne, I've heard.

[ At the very least, the idea of a bastard is different. ]

She might've been, but I can't imagine my mother tolerating my father's cruelties if that were the case. I wouldn't have.

Dorne? No, I think she must have been a serving girl or a girl in a tavern somewhere. There has to be a reason my father wouldn't speak of her. The last time I saw him, he told me we'd talk about her the next time we met. Then he was killed. What should she have done? I don't know much, but why did no one ever seem to raise a finger to stop him?

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cw probably groce couple stuff, ew: feelings, jon snow's sad existence, etc.

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cw for Game of Thrones stuff (this time it's not a joke!)

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