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#slavery in essos
atopvisenyashill · 2 months
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"Daenerys has done a lot of wrongs" and said are killing slavers
thanks for this one actually because you gave me an excuse to talk about that for a bit.
now first of all - i find it very frustrating that when people say “this was wrong” everyone defaults to “why do you care about slavers” when usually, when i’m talking about things dany has done wrong, i’m talking about mirri maz durr, sacking astapor, sexually abusing irri, and taking a profit off slavery. mirri wasn’t a slaver, she was a slave, and she was blood sacrificed by dany. sacking a city, regardless of who is in that city, is always messy and bad - ask Cleos the Butcher and the people he rules over how they feel about the Sack. Ask the people of King's Landing how they feel about their houses being set on fire every few decades. Ask Missandei how she really feels watching the woman she put all her faith in take a cut off the selling of slaves. Hell, Dany knows that Irri does not want to have sex with her and is doing it because she feels "obligated" because she's a slave and Dany still uses her as a bed warmer and then bars her from expressing an interest in Rakharo because she doesn't believe Irri is ~worthy~ of Rakharo (worthy to fuck but not to love and don't I fucking know about attitudes like that coming from white straight girls lmao).
But let's move past all of that (you certainly seem uninterested in talking about the personhood of slaves like Missandei and Mirri after all, despite ostensibly defending them here) and dig into the crucifying of the Great Masters. In fact, let's turn to Dany's own thoughts over this, bolded part mine:
In the plaza before the Great Pyramid, the Meereenese huddled forlorn. The Great Masters had looked anything but great in the morning light. Stripped of their jewels and their fringed tokars, they were contemptible; a herd of old men with shriveled balls and spotted skin and young men with ridiculous hair. Their women were either soft and fleshy or as dry as old sticks, their face paint streaked by tears. “I want your leaders,” Dany told them. “Give them up, and the rest of you shall be spared.” “How many?” one old woman had asked, sobbing. “How many must you have to spare us?” “One hundred and sixty-three,” she answered. She had them nailed to wooden posts around the plaza, each man pointing at the next. The anger was fierce and hot inside her when she gave the command; it made her feel like an avenging dragon. But later, when she passed the men dying on the posts, when she heard their moans and smelled their bowels and blood… Dany put the glass aside, frowning. It was just. It was. I did it for the children.
Immediately after doing it, Dany regrets it. She recognizes she did it while angry and impassioned and reckless, and that the deaths were agonizing, that she did it not for the children but because she was angry and humiliated. This scene has never been as righteously clean morally than people would believe from the moment it was on page! She recognizes she did a fucked up thing but rationalizes it away because she can't admit she made a mistake. She reflects on it later again as she's ruling Meereen:
She had not forgotten the slave children nailed up along the road from Yunkai. They had numbered one hundred sixty-three, a child every mile, nailed to mileposts with one arm outstretched to point her way. After Meereen had fallen, Dany had nailed up a like number of Great Masters. Swarms of flies had attended their slow dying, and the stench had lingered long in the plaza. Yet some days she feared that she had not gone far enough. These Meereenese were a sly and stubborn people who resisted her at every turn. They had freed their slaves, yes … only to hire them back as servants at wages so meagre that most could scarce afford to eat. Those too old or young to be of use had been cast into the streets, along with the infirm and the crippled. And still the Great Masters gathered atop their lofty pyramids to complain of how the dragon queen had filled their noble city with hordes of unwashed beggars, thieves, and whores. To rule Meereen I must win the Meereenese, however much I may despise them.
She lets the bodies of the people she wants to rule rot, the smell lingering in the plaza for weeks, reminding the people she is trying to make peace with that she can and will viciously murder their families and gloat over their corpses and they cannot stop her. Then doesn't put in any rules about wages, anything to help the sick and disabled. She blames the Great Masters for working within the system they've had for generations despite yelling at them to get a new system and doing nothing to help them move to that new system. She judges them, she hates them, and she wonders why she has the Meereneese version of the KKK springing up afterwards. She is just as ineffective as Andrew Johnson is during Reconstruction, too focused on her own feelings to look objectively at what this destroyed city actually needs from her, instead judging them from her own lofty pyramid with her own slaves and her own superior culture and mopes about how much she wants the Seven Kingdoms.
SHE is the one who decided she was going to rule this place. But instead of focusing on reconciliation, she focuses in on revenge. And that is why she sets herself up to fail.
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aegor-bamfsteel · 1 year
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Do you think that there were chances to rebel against slavery in Slavers Bay?
Not only do I know there were, but the slaving societies that GRRM has written are so overinflated they should’ve been history long before Dány’s war.
The societies of Slaver’s Bay (and the Free Cities) are without a doubt slaving societies. A “slaving society” as described by influential historian Moses I Finley, is different from a “society with slaves” (which were most of ancient societies) where slavery was a small aspect of social/economic life; a slaving society had at least 20% slaves, there’s enough of them to create a cultural impact, and they’re an essential part of the economy. In Finley’s model, there are only 5 slaving societies in (Western) history: Greece, Rome, colonial US South, Caribbean, and Brazil. GRRM makes it clear that without slavery, Slaver’s Bay would collapse economically (as would the Free Cities further west). He provides comically high numbers of slaves in some of the Free Cities (slave to free are 3:1 in Lys, Myr, Tyrosh; and 5:1 in Volantis), but we hear of only a few slave rebellions in them (when the Doom of Valyria happened and they killed all the dragons surviving except the Targs’) until Dány, but why? In slaving societies, the threat of violence for rebelling was institutional and severe…but every one of those 5 had multiple examples of slave uprisings. And in some cases where the slaves outnumbered the elites by that level of magnitude, they were successful. The helots of Messenia took advantage of an earthquake and Thebes’ invasion of Sparta to revolt and eventually rebuild their old city, while the enslaved people of Haiti took advantage of the French Revolution/Napoleonic Wars to win their independence. It stands to reason as a hub of slavery that Slaver’s Bay has an enslaved population close to that of the Free Cities, but there’s never any uprising mentioned until Dány comes? Even though we know that natural disasters and institutional warfare took place in that area. And don’t tell me the magical Unsullied just prevented all rebellions forever; the Spartans were allegedly the best warriors in Ancient Greece, whole kingdoms couldn’t win against Roman consular armies, the French army defeated practically most of Europe during the Revolutionary/Napoleonic period…but there were slave rebellions that managed to beat all of them, even if temporarily (poor Spartacus). But we’re just supposed to assume that after the fall of Valyria—which TWOIAF did tell us coincided with slave rebellions against the dragonlords—absolutely none of these cities achieved any sort of lasting freedom for its enslaved people? Even when the source of the Valyrian might, the dragons, was gone and the elite could no longer rely on that violence to keep the population in line? They were all just suffering and waiting for a savior for centuries, despite being most of the city’s population (including much of the army) and there being only some backup for the elite? The USA had to outlaw educating enslaved people for fear of rebellion, but there were still uprisings; meanwhile, in Essos there’s no ban on education, but we hear of none in Slaver’s Bay? It’s absolute nonsense historically, and only serves to make the slavers look super evil and Dány to look more like an apparent hero; the byproduct is that the enslaved people are robbed of the spirit, agency, and solidarity that they had in real life.
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sunny12th · 1 year
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when Dany's endgame is returning to Essos, to the people she Chose and the war she Chose. when she makes Vaes Tolorro flourish.
Dany settled down with her small band of survivors in the place they named Vaes Tolorro, the city of bones. Day followed night followed day. Women harvested fruit from the gardens of the dead. Men groomed their mounts and mended saddles, stirrups, and shoes. Children wandered the twisty alleys and found old bronze coins and bits of purple glass and stone flagons with handles carved like snakes. One woman was stung by a red scorpion, but hers was the only death. The horses began to put on some flesh. Dany tended Ser Jorah's wound herself, and it began to heal. - ACoK, Daenerys I
Part of her would have liked nothing more than to lead her people back to Vaes Tolorro, and make the dead city bloom. - ACoK, Daenerys III
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asoiafreadthru · 8 months
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A Game of Thrones, Daenerys I
“And the man behind him is Ser Jorah Mormont.”
The last name caught Daenerys. “A knight?”
“No less.” Illyrio smiled through his beard. “Anointed with the seven oils by the High Septon himself.”
“What is he doing here?” she blurted.
“The Usurper wanted his head,” Illyrio told them. “Some trifling affront. He sold some poachers to a Tyroshi slaver instead of giving them to the Night’s Watch. Absurd law. A man should be able to do as he likes with his own chattel.”
“I shall wish to speak with Ser Jorah before the night is done,” her brother said.
Dany found herself looking at the knight curiously. This strange man from the homeland she had never known.
He was an older man, past forty and balding, but still strong and fit.
Instead of silks and cottons, he wore wool and leather. His tunic was a dark green, embroidered with the likeness of a black bear standing on two legs.
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horizon-verizon · 1 year
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"My pleasure barge awaits, even now," Xaro Xhoan Daxos called out. "Turn away from this folly, most stubborn of queens. I have flutists who will soothe your troubled soul with sweet music, and a small girl whose tongue will make you sigh and melt." -A Clash of Kings, Daenerys IV
I truly did not remember this. Looks like he consistently fucks little boys because he finds them attractive, as well as the older ones.
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notenoughmuses · 2 years
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//All i’m saying is: We could just do the House of the Dragon as a whole civil war show...Season 1 spans first 20ish years leading into the Dance of the Dragons...Then season 2 and maybe first half of 3 (or a full 3rd season) with the rest of the Dance and leading to Aegon II and Aegon III and then the other seasons you could focus on the first Blackfyre Rebellion and eventually the second Rebellion. It’s been repeated multiple times that the House of Dragon is at war with itself. Why stop at the Dance. There’s more Targaryen civil wars to follow, plus we get to see Baelor and Brynden Rivers....and other characters who i’m forgetting as of right now. It’d be a smart move. 
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I really don’t think we should be treating morality as a linear thing in ASOIAF because what often happens is that we start to stray from the actual conversations that we need to be having regarding the depths of making a moral choice and even the circumstances involved. To try and blankly paint any one character as the “most morally good” isn’t really taking us anywhere. And it certainly isn’t helpful when people in this fandom want to try and prove that characters are “grey” but not moral (what does that even mean??) because they did one “bad” thing. If ASOIAF stans were to have their way, then:
Jon is not a morally good person because he threatened Gilly
Dany cannot be considered to be compassionate because she sanctioned torture against the wine seller’s daughters
Arya cant be good because she has killed people
and so on, and so on….
But this is such a draining, and oft times frustrating, conversation to have because you see just how shallow the above listed examples are? Readers are listing only singular instances across a narrative that spans thousand and thousands of pages, and there’s absolutely no context involved. Why did Jon threaten Gilly? Why did Dany resort to torture and at one point did she do it? Who did Arya kill and why? And why do those singular instances negate everything else in their arcs?
What usually happens when we have the 12847647282th unnecessary conversation about who is the “most good” character in ASOIAF is that we start getting blanket statements with no elaboration. And the only people ever considered are Ned, Brienne, and Davos, and sometimes the children like Shireen or Tommen. Mind you, Ned and Davos are not perfect or without their own faults either; much has been said about Ned’s abilities as a father and it’s implied that Davos was not entirely faithful to his wife. And based on her current arc, Brienne will surely have to make morally tough choices regarding oaths and knightly honor. Plus theres the irony of including literal children when they have not been put in situations where they actually have to make morally difficult choices and live with the consequences.
ASOIAF shows us that people who are capable of incredible kindness and compassion are also capable of doing unpleasant things.
Jon threatened Gilly….because he was trying to save another child whom he believed to be at risk of human sacrifice(!!) and was stuck between a rock and a hard place. But why does that singular instance negate the fact that his arc has been about him standing up for the “lesser than”? Why does that negate the fact that he stood up for Sam against a superior when there was nothing to gain for him? Why does it negate the fact that he went out of his way to equip Arya in a way that society would have deemed inappropriate? Why does it negate the fact that he dedicated the entirety of his time as Lord Commander to fight an institution that had upheld racism/xenophobia for millennia? Why should we filter out all those moments of kindness, compassion, and deep empathy that Jon has even without him thinking?
Dany sanctioned torture….but she was trying to solve the murder of an innocent victim AND this brought her no joy. But why does that negate the fact that when she gained unimaginable power, she could’ve high tailed to Westeros to use it to her benefit and become queen, but instead chose to stay in Essos where she has no personal responsibility just so she could fight the institutional evil that is slavery? Why does it negate Dany who went to personally treat plague victims at great risk to herself?
Arya has killed some….but it’s in self defense or in defense of others who are disenfranchised. But why does this negate that she is one of the few people in the series how goes out of her way to show kindness and friendship to those who are not as economically or politically advantaged as she is (e.g., Mycah)? Why does it negate that she took fellow slaves under her protection when she herself had little power to fight for her own survival at Harrenhall? Why does it negate that when she saw those caged soldiers whom she was angry with for their actions, instead of leaving them to die instead offered them the only kindness she could at the moment: a drink of water?
Trying to have arguments about morality but stripping everything down to ‘x character did y bad thing (regardless of context) and that’s why they can’t be good’ is, to be blunt, ridiculous. And it isn’t a particularly interesting way to engage with the text. Character journeys, especially well written ones, are rarely ever in a straight line. There’s amazing highs and terrible lows. GRRM gives us so many characters like Jon, Dany, Arya, Sansa, Ned, etc. who even in their lows, have gleams of compassion and exceptional kindness. It doesn’t do anyone any good to filter those moments out to make the books more digestible; and I’m being a little generous here, because so many readers have a very shallow level of engagement with the series and it shows in conversation. And we also shouldn’t pit these characters unfairly against those who have never been in similarly difficult situations that required them to make hard choices. Because when we do, we start to completely miss the point all together.
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jozor-johai · 3 months
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It's no secret that the Red Temple of Volantis, and the vast majority of the R'hllorists in Essos, are considering Dany to be Azor Ahai reborn.
And it's equally no secret that Melisandre is off making a splinter sect of her own—rather than agree with the Dany-as-messiah hegemony, she's set her sights on Stannis Baratheon.
But these separate sects—and their potential—take on ever more meaning with the biblical parallels of their respective figureheads.
Dany has a series of paralleled images with Moses, if not wholly chronologically aligned: leading her people away from slavery, leading her people through a desert, communing with a magical fire and returning with a deified presence. I believe, in fact, that in the sense of this parallel she's in the middle of her trip to the top of Sinai, where some her followers believe her dead and begin to follow a false god leader in her absence.
So the Essosi branch of R'hllorism has this figurehead who is heavily paralleled with Moses...
and then Jon, then, for his part, is a heavy-handed Jesus figure, as we all know, with his betrayal and death at the hands of his brothers, his close allies with those who society rejects (Sam the effeminate scholar and Satin the prostitute), who is the de facto "king" of a refugee minority (the Wildlings) and who will be resurrected to return as a deity in truth.
The truth of Jon's return has the possibility to unite the two major factions of R'hllorists in Westeros. There's the small sect which is the Brotherhood Without Banners, or at least those not following Stoneheart, because the majority of their faith was earned through the proof of resurrection (of Beric) and who might follow another leader if he, too, seemed chosen by R'hllor (and was not as creepy or vengeful as LSH). Then there is the slightly larger sect which is Stannis' host and the Queen's Men in particular, who follow Melisandre's lead and believe in Stannis as Azor Ahai. If Melisandre changed her opinion for whatever reason—perhaps also through the "proof" of divine intervention via resurrection, then she and her followers, too, might follow Jon in the "cult of resurrection" so to speak.
Which would give us a geopolitical religious split along R'hllorist belief in who exactly is Azor Ahai, the Essosi sect believing that it's Dany, slave-freeing Moses-figure, and the Westerosi sect believing that it's Jon, resurrected king Jesus-figure.
Of course all of this comes with the caveat that Dany has her own Jesus parallels (wise men visiting her, "born" under a star) and Jon has his own Moses parallels, and of course that Jesus and Moses have plenty of parallels even themselves. I mean their status as major messiah figures is probably more nuanced than Moses/Jesus but it does make for an interesting divide. Not sure what it all means, to be honest, beyond noticing it.
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visenyaism · 9 months
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the melisandre-davos foil about godhood and devotion and deifying your king in order to give yourself purpose and melisandre-cersei foil about constructing a binary deathcult worldview where extreme cruelty is just the way things are to repress the truth that someone could have stopped the horrors inflicted onto them and the melisandre-daenerys foil about a woman enslaved by god all her life seeking the messiah within the trappings of power because that is what feels safe and expected versus the actual savior being a teenage girl like she once was trying to end slavery in essos i am rattling the bars of my enclosure
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georgescitadel · 1 year
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Dany is white, just as she has been from the beginning, and she may or may not be a savior (the last scene in "Mhysa" is not the end of her journey by any means), but she frees slaves of all colors, races, creeds, and nationalities. […] There is no racial component to slavery as practiced on Essos. It is based on slavery as it existed in the ancient world. The Romans and Greek were just as willing to enslave other Greeks and Romans as they were Celts, Goths, Germans, and Africans. It's on the page. […]  I am the author of the novels. I have lived in this world, off and on, since 1991. I know what I wrote, I know what I intended...
- George R.R. Martin, NotABlog (2013)
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mybworlds · 2 months
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Chapter 1: The Mermaid of The Narrow Sea
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Title: The Mermaid of the Narrow Sea Pairing: Oberyn Martell x F!Reader (no use of Y/N) Summary: Essos. You are a slave since you were a little girl. One day you are sold to a mysterious man who could be your only chance to escape and be free.
Masterlist Rating: M Series Warnings: Age gap, slavery, violence, blood, death, alcohol use, slow burn, sexism, smut, dom/sub dynamics, rape attempts Extra warnings: there's a vicious brother (oc), Ellaria is a jealous woman in this story.
Before to start... my idea is to twist Oberyn's biography a little bit and intertwine it with the main character's story and what happens in Westeros in the next chapters, so I'm not sure what will come of it. I hope you like this my (new) story.
This is my second story in the Game of Thrones universe, the other is a SanSan, you can find it in my masterlist, I'm a lil afraid to write about Prince Oberyn 'cause I know he's very loved, who doesn't? ;) If you want let me know what you think about.
follow @mybworlds and turn on notifications to get notified when I post new fics
Thanks for the dividers @idontgetanysleep
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Fire warms your sun-ruined skin, your hair is a shapeless tangled heap, you wear a tunic too small for your body, it's a woman's body now, not a child's.
Your eyes are likened to burning embers especially when you get angry or challenge even with your gaze your masters. You are a slave. You've been a slave since you were a child. Your mother had been captured when you weren't even five, and since then you along with other men, women and slavers have done nothing but roam the eastern continent.
You are a beautiful young woman, your proud look and posture stand out though you are only a slave. For these your qualities, you are called the Mermaid of the Narrow Sea.
People who had enslaved your mother move from place to place, from inland to the shores of the Narrow Sea.
That day you are dragged by those bloody people back to the shores, and on that day the wind blows hard shaking the barren lands overlooking the Sea and shaking the hair of everyone there. You and other women are gathered there by the cliff, all are afraid since they all fear what may happen to them, you don't. You watch raptly as the waves crash on the rocks, then you scan the horizon with a wistful look.
"Soon, very soon we'll see what you are made of," hisses one of the men threateningly in your ear who had also tried in the past to take you by force.
"I'm not afraid." you challenge him by turning your gaze toward the man who raises his hand as if to strike you, but then has second thoughts: hitting you would not scratch you, take that look away, or satisfy him.
"Someday, you damn bitch, someone will tame you," he says grudgingly and then walks away.
"When that day comes, I'll be ready," you whisper, but it's more of a reminder to yourself to never give up and never bend no matter what happens.
You promised to yourself this ever since you witnessed the rape and murder of your mother. Your mother was sold to a prince or king in Westeros, out of the goodness of this prince or king, whoever he was, you were bought too. One evening, however, the man showed in your quarters, your mother, probably sensing what was going to happen, immediately made you hide in a closet filled with sacks of grain, bread and other food making you swear not to go out or be heard for any reason in the world.
When the man was there, you witnessed something that no one should ever see: your mother, the woman who gave birth to you, the woman who loved you, the woman you always saw as your rock, slapped and thrown to the ground and then her screams overpowered by the man's obscene sounds and words.
You closed your eyes and plugged your ears tightly, almost unable to hear after so much you pressed your palms over your ears. When you dared to open your eyes again, you saw the man's sword rise and fall on your mother's neck and blood gushing copiously on the floor, on her clothes and on the man's sword. Your mother choked in her own blood as the man wiped his sword back against the woman's now blood-soaked dress.
When you were able to come out of your hiding place, you found your mother with her eyes wide open in an expression of pure terror painted on her face, from then on you swore to yourself that no one, ever, would touch you, neither a slave nor a merchant nor a king nor a prince.
"She is the Mermaid of the Narrow Sea, gentlemen." you are introduced by a plump man who sells women for a good price in exchange for wine, silk and spices "Beautiful as you can see, she will be able to satisfy your every fantasy, she is an obedient girl who knows her place."
You stare grimly and hard at all the men who stare at you as if you were an animal for slaughter. You see some talking excitedly, others licking their lips as if you were a tasty exotic dish to be put on the table.
"More than Mermaid seems to me to be ready to rip our throats out," someone comments, provoking general hilarity.
"I kill those who provoke me only," you reply venomously bringing down general silence, slaves don't speak, someone hits you from behind causing you to fall to your knees. The men laugh, but this doesn't make you lose your resolve or your hard stare.
You quickly get back on your feet.
People whisper, the plump man tries to sell you in every way, but no one buys you. One of the slavers pulls you away, when you are in a separate place he ties your hands and feet with a very heavy chain, "I should rip that damned tongue out of you!" the man threatens you and then kicks you in the side and walks away. In front of him you didn't react to that gesture, but now that you're alone you squeeze your eyes and moan in pain, you want to see what he did to you, but you can't.
You hide your head between your legs, you don't cry, you never cry, there is no point in crying, you just have to hold on. The day will come when you will be free and you can get rid of these heavy chains.
The next day someone wakes you up with the usual indelicacy and brutality, they release you from the chains and pull you by the arm, "Move, the market has ended and you're staying with us this time too." you don't know if there is disappointment in his tone of voice or what, for you for sure it'll be another terrible trip. You don't know where you will go, but they certainly won't treat you well, they never have. They are not going to start today.
All of you slaves - mostly women - are chained by the wrists, lined up in a row to each other, your slavers are on horseback, only a couple of them on foot and they are there to poke and prod you to walk, not all of you holding their gait. Someone dies under the scorching sun, someone from lack of food and water. Your lips are parched, your eyes burn from the sun and sweat dripping from your forehead, but you don't give up.
Not today.
Not today.
Not today.
You keep telling yourself, this is not the day you die.
Slavers stop to unhook the dead bodies and as you others who were further behind are about to stop too, one of the damn ones trips you and part surprise and part lack of food, you fall forward.
"Oh, you've fallen, Mermaid!" he uses that nickname with the tone of someone who wants to taunt you, you look at him angrily "I was hoping you'd be the next to die!" he adds with a venomous grin.
"Instead I'm still here," you say grudgingly, he's about to kick you, but you can't take it anymore, you block the man's foot in midair who falls backward. The anger, the pain, the resentment built up over all those years until now explodes with a force and violence you didn't even think you had: you pounce on the man by sitting on him and start punching him repeatedly in the face, you lose count of how many blows you inflict on him, his face becomes a mask of blood and he screams, screams attract the attention of the other men who grab you by the armpits and pull you away, in pulling you away you kick him in the middle of the legs and making the asshole scream once again.
"Fuck you!" you scream in exasperation.
"Now I'm going to kill that fucking bitch," the man says holding his face and making to get to his feet and reach you, one of his own stands between you and you hear him say "At the next slave market in Meereen we'll get rid of her, you'll see." this doesn't quite convince him because his eyes land on your face still distraught with rage and he tries to reach you again, the second man insists "There someone will heal your wounds and we're going to drink good wine, I know there's a good brothel too, you'll relax and forget about her." maybe this convinces him because he looks at you with less hatred and then he looks at his companion, you see him smile and his interest in you fades.
You can breathe.
"Be careful," a dark-skinned man next to you says, you look at him suspiciously "that guy, Aziz, is a dangerous man," he continues, referring to the man you hit.
"I can take care of myself," you retort looking at him grimly.
He chuckles "I saw, but try to avoid any more shows, you are too young to die." he looks at your face, "I hope that when you are sold because you will be, your master will treat you better than you have lived so far." you lower your head for a moment and find yourself barely bending your lips upward, you have never really smiled, doing is so strange.
The city of Meereen presents itself splendid and imposing to your eyes. It's the largest city you have ever been in up to that point, you walk looking upward and your eyes wide open in wonder although you know why you are there. What strikes you most are massive triangular-shaped structures, they are gigantic, who knows what they are for! You are in a noisy city, deafening almost, everywhere there are people buying and selling, there are goods of all kinds and types, before long it will be your turn again and the poor unfortunate souls like you.
They make you wear a knee-length cream-colored dress, one of the slavers dares to move your hair and you in response bite his hand earning you a slap in the face, it hurts, especially if he has hit you with a hand full of rings, "I sure hope you leave, you insolent fool."
When they have fixed you and made you presentable for sale, you get out of there. You are in chains again and this time you go to a wide open space that is swarming with all kinds of people, from prospective buyers to the merely curious. You keep your head down. Buying and selling is something that has always made you sick and that you have always refused to listen to; you go up on some kind of stage as if you were there to make a spectacle of yourself, you feel a disgust at those pigs selling you and the equally obscene buyers watching you as juicy meat to be put on the table.
"She is the Mermaid of the Narrow Sea," once again you are introduced this way by a huge man who pulls you by the arm beside him to show you to the audience of shoppers. You stare at the many faces, your head spinning, wishing to be left alone, to escape, but...
"I offer 1,000 copper stars," you hear one man shout, "2,000," shouts a second, you move your eyes from corner to corner, then there is an offer that interrupts all possible bids "10,000 gold dragons," everybody's head turns hearing such a sum. You remain breathless, no one had ever bid that much for someone like you, you try to spot the buyer, but he's wearing a hood therefore it's impossible to tell who he is.
"Sold." decrees the man beside you, you are immediately grabbed by the arm by someone else who hisses grudgingly in your ear "Finally, you damn whore, your time has come, now you will know that we were only docile lambs!"
It's Aziz, you look him in the eyes and with an expression full of disgust you tell him "Finally I've ruined that ugly face of yours, you monster!" he's about to hit you, but he's interrupted once again from another man "Stop it, it's none of our business now, go and collect from the buyer and hand it over to him now, it's none of our business anymore." says the second man barely looking at your face.
You and Aziz exchange one last glance, before he finally - and forever - walks away from you, you will never see him again. You hint a smile.
You are free from his obscene look, his stinking breath, his slimy hands. Free.
Free to go to another cage. The smile disappears again.
You are not free at all, you never will be.
The buyer enters the tent, he still has his hood over his head, and only then does he take it off, he's a man maybe in his fifties, or maybe something more, and then you realize that you can no longer escape the violence that has always marked your life and hollowed out your skin, you can never escape, never.
You are always a prisoner.
"I was just sent to buy you, I'm handing you over to your master's brother," is all the elderly man says to you, you can only nod, you are still a cargo.
The man pulls away the curtain and invites you to follow him, invites? Oh, it would be the first time someone has treated you like a person instead of an animal. You obey, you cannot object. Your hands are still tied and then there are too many people, you want to run away, but not now. Not today.
Just a little further on, there is a palanquin on which the man makes you get on and then he gets on as well. You don't speak, he barely looks at you, you are on alert, you don't know what the man's real intentions are, he might attack you, tempt violence, you don't let him out of your sight. You are ready to snap.
The palanquin stops, the man gets out before you and then helps you down. You are... in front of a brothel, you can't believe it, your master has bought you to make you a whore, your lips tremble and you lower your gaze for a moment, "Come." the man says in a sigh, holding you by the arm, you don't have the strength to resist and at the moment not even the strength to run away, even if you wanted to.
You climb the steps of the building and enter, the room stinks and it's dark. You can hear in the distance the unmistakable sounds and moans of sex, laughter, someone sneaks up totally naked in front of the two of you, you widen your eyes frightened, maybe you should start getting used to it, you will stay there now. Your master probably runs the place, maybe he himself will want to first-- you try to restrain yourself from vomiting at the idea, at the horror of that scene.
You wander between the various rooms until you come to a last room to which the elderly man knocks once, twice, three times with his fist as if it were a signal, someone from inside opens and leaves the door open. The elderly man opens the door completely and lets you in as well, "I have brought what your brother wants, my Prince."
"Hand her over to him don't give her to me," says a bored voice from behind, it's a man, looking out the window, he's rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
"My Prince, Prince Mors said to give it to you--"
"To spite me!" he exclaims "He knows how I feel about it, and what does he do? He orders you to bring me a slave he wants! Set her free," he sentences again without looking at you, you widen your eyes, not knowing what to expect.
"My Prince, I'm sorry, but your brother..."
The other man sighs, "I know, but if it were up to me, I would free everyone."
"I understand, my Prince, but without slaves there would be no one left to perform certain tasks and chores," the elder continues.
The two of them keep talking as if you are not there with them, you start to think that maybe if you start walking slowly backwards, maybe... at that moment the younger man turns toward you and you don't really know why, but you almost feel like you've been paralyzed by his piercing gaze: your eyes plant themselves in his, you find yourself swallowing without even knowing why, you can't lower your gaze even though in front of that man's you'd like to, his gaze almost seems to want to burn you inside, it's such a strange feeling, so disturbing, you see his lips stretch upward and then you realize that's the end.
You can't move anymore.
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atopvisenyashill · 9 months
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me: literally makes a post complaining about how Certain People will use anything to excuse dany of culpability re: how she sees slavery.
someone on that post: *does exactly the thing i’m complaining about*
@magicalgoateestudentsposts-blog no one is denying that dany had very little control over her life in the very first book. dothraki wives have significantly less power than westerosi ones do, that is true, but saying dany is a slave bc she was a child bride is like saying sansa, aemma, etc are slaves as well. no. it’s a whole different thing bc they have class privilege that offers them potential safety & allies that a random slave like Missandei or Grey Worm will never get. the very concept of child brides in asoiaf is in fact predicated on their class privilege - it’s a really specific way of torturing & controlling noble born women. no one bothers to stop ramsay from torturing jeyne poole bc no one cares about some random northern girl without an important last name. if jeyne hatched dragons, no one would be flocking to her banners they would be attempting to undercut her abilities based on a gendered view of her class status, the same way nettles is treated. dany suffers immensely but she is never an actual slave.
beyond that - “she didn’t have a choice” is the entire point i’m making. she sacks astapor and slaughters freemen as young as twelve then crucified the masters without trying to figure out if the politics in the city had any sort of complexity similar to her own situation. she directly orders the massacre of thousands who were likely in positions similar to her - young people who inherited slaves and didn’t like the fact that they had to participate in the slave trade. young, idealistic, potential allies who are never given the chance to unlearn the harm bc she has them killed. SHE owned slaves. SHE asked drogo to get her the iron throne, knowing it will involve sacking lhazareen villages and selling more slaves. then when her slave had the audacity to resent her treatment, SHE burned that slave alive. SHE refuses to recognize her own role in allowing the slave trade to flourish & how her own experiences in literally owning slaves have informed the way she sees the people around her. like, her best friend SOLD SLAVES and he even points out that moral dilemma to her but she doesn’t reflect on it at all. THAT IS THE PROBLEM. using “she was a slave” as a defense for her actions is what i’m arguing against - she wasn’t a slave but also, if you think a noble girl being forced into marriage is akin to slavery, surely you understand then that dany effectively killed other “noble born slaves” in astapor like her and refuses to admit to it?? if she insists on getting involved in politics & ruling, than she gets criticized for what her actions actually do and not what she wishes she could do, same as robb, same as jace, same as daeron, same as jon, same as every other child military leaders who fundamentally prove that children should not be military leaders bc they are too emotional, reckless, and lacking in self awareness to accurately lead others.
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wearenorth · 1 month
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From time to time, I come across these snippets of GoT on my social media. So on another episode of how D&D tried to push over Sansa as this "righteous and smartest" character, despite being power-hungry and wanting the crown only for herself: 
a) In this scene, people who don't or can't fight hide safely in the crypts. While talking with Tyrion, Sansa decides to bring up Daenerys into conversation for no reason at all, which is followed by trying to talk sh*t about her. Then Missandei corrects Sansa.
b) In this scene, Missandei states facts as usual.
c) In this scene, Daenerys is again proven to be a good and caring person who helps others. "We'd all be dead already": Missandei would have died in slavery if not for Daenerys taking her into her care and freeing her. Tyrion would have drunk himself to death/would have died in slavery/would have been killed in Essos if not for Daenerys taking him into her service. The North, without Daenerys, would have no chance to stand against the Others; they all would be dead (including Sansa).
d) In this scene, Sansa says, "Divided loyalties would have become a problem." What "divided" loyalties? Prior to the dialogue that is shown here, Tyrion and Sansa were talking about their marriage. It's understandable that Sansa would want Tyrion to stay loyal to her, i.e., that Tyrion would have no other lovers. But Daenerys wasn't Tyrion's lover, and it's quite clear that none of them had any romantic feelings for each other. From the political side, Tyrion has sworn his loyalty to Daenerys and is one of her advisors. Jon Snow, who's the King, is at the top of the political hierarchy in the North (above Sansa too), bent the knee to Daenerys. This makes Daenerys Queen of the North. And the North and its people become Daenerys' subjects; this includes Sansa too. In no way is Sansa above Daenerys in the political hierarchy. In no way is Sansa equal to Daenerys in the political hierarchy. Sansa is below Daenerys in the political hierarchy.
So what "divided" loyalties is Sansa speaking about as if she's in an equal position with Daenerys? That Tyrion being a loyal advisor to Daenerys and a loyal husband to Sansa wouldn't go well with Sansa's desire to have the crown and rule over an "independent" North?
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sunny12th · 24 days
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I don't think we need a monologue or explicit statement from Dany renouncing the Targaryens of Old Valyria for owning slaves and the Old Valyrians for spreading slavery through Essos. She never thinks about them, she doesn't have them on a pedestal in her mind. She has a favorable viewpoint of her immediate family, mostly Rhaegar, that she was taught by her brother. I dont think we need to see Dany explicitly state for the readers that her slave owning ancestors were evil and she disagrees with them because her actions show this.
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legitalicat · 3 months
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Out of Time
Chapter 3 - "Dinner and Dessert"
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AN: Chapter 3 my loves! I hope you enjoy this one :) Also I'm sorry if this is bad I've only ever written smut like 2x before this. If you're looking for better smut, I always always always recommend @lovelykhaleesiii
If you love this header go check out zaldritzosrose for more amazing work! She is tagged on the series masterlist and on my welcome post!
If anyone is interested in me starting a tag list, please feel free to let me know!!
Find the series Master list here!
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Summary: As the day comes to a close, she can only think of what has happened. With having less than a full day to understand the situation, her thoughts are all consuming. Her beloved twin, Jacaerys, shows he has only ever cared for her.
18+ every one
TW: SMUT SMUT SMUT!!!! P in V, Targcest (is it Targcest if their last names are Velaryon?), profanity, dirty talk, unprotected sex (please practice safe sex guys), Jace has a monster in his pants, Jace being kinda dom
Pairings: Jacaerys Velaryon x twin!Reader, mentions of Aemond Targaryen x Reader, mentions of Alys Rivers x Aemond Targaryen
Word count: 3.6 k
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Aemond had accompanied me to the Dragon Pit, as was my original intention. And it was time well spent in all honesty. He spoke to me about the time that I was gone. Just as Mother said, he had gone around the entire realm to attempt to find me. Apparently, he had spent a long time in Harrenhal, the seat of my blood father’s family.
What I hadn’t expected, though, was him telling me of this woman he had met there named Alys Rivers. According to him he had grown fond of her and even attempted to be with her. He claimed it was to try to get over me, as all logic pointed to me being dead. I stopped listening.
When I was back in my chambers, with nothing to do but think as I waited for dinner, I could only sit in the window seat overlooking Blackwater Bay. My finding didn’t make sense to me.
If I were taken by pirates like seemed to be a popular theory, why was I not in Essos? I would probably fetch a fair price if they sold me into slavery. Or why had they not demanded ransom? As a princess of the realm, my identity was not a secret, even if I didn’t have the signature Targaryen hair. I had done as much as possible to help the citizens of King’s Landing. I had done a tour of the Seven Kingdoms to meet with several Lords and their sons to consider for marriage. There was not a time in which I was ever hidden away.
“Your brain is going to break if you continue to think so hard,” Jace said from beside me. My gaze snapped to him, trying to steady my heart from the shock. “It is just me, issa dāria.”
“Must you sneak in here like that?” I scolded him yet I was certain the only thing stern about me was my tone. I was too happy to see him to control the smile that crept onto my face.
He was carrying a tray with two plates piled high with food and two cups. He set it on a nearby table before coming back to stand by my side.
“I wanted to have time with you. We have not seen each other since the afternoon,” he explained to me.
He gave me a soft smile. Everything about him was soft. His hair laid in loose curls that bounced with every motion. His lips were plump, eyes round and a deep brown, and even his sharp jawline was offset by full cheeks. Hell, even down to what he wore was soft. A loose fitting, long sleeved white linen shirt with strings crossing over the space between his collarbones tucked into the waistband of his brown cotton pants. Unlike most, he didn’t often wear shoes around the castle unless he had to go before the council or maybe a formal dinner.
No matter how much I loved Aemond, Jace was a part of me. I loved him in nearly every way a person could. He and I were two pieces of the same soul. We could spend all day together and never need a break. He listened to me rant about every subject I ever read about, learned High Valyrian for me. He was good and kind and sweet.
“And the food?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I thought perhaps dinner with all of us at once may prove to be too much tonight, so you and I could eat in here. I’ve already spoken to Mother and told her,” he said.
I chuckled and stood from my seat. Without any hesitation, he took my hand in one of his hands and pulled me closer by my waist with the other. Standing here, chest to chest with him, the world felt quiet.
“How are you feeling?” he asked quietly. He was sure not to hold me too tightly.
“Physically I hurt,” I whispered. It was best if I were honest with him. “Otherwise, I’m just confused. None of it makes sense. And to think of missing five years with you causes an unbearable ache in my chest.”
He pressed his lips to my forehead. It was how he comforted me when he had no idea what to say. Always handling me with great care like it was his life’s mission. There was no amount of affection too small to him.
He said nothing else before helping me into a chair at the table. The silence felt nice if I were honest. With him, I didn’t feel like I had missed anything.
“Luke is happy you’re back,” he told me after he had sat down. “So is Joffrey. They missed you greatly.”
“I cannot wait to see them. As well as Little Aegon and Viserys. They all have grown so much,” I responded, tears welling up in my eyes.
My plate had a venison roast with potatoes and carrots. A simple meal but one of my favorites. Dragonstone had the largest deer I had seen which was an impressive feat considering how many dragons roamed free on the island. But with such an abundance of the meat, we had it frequently when we lived there.
“I love you,” he said. He spoke it in such a way nobody could question his sincerity. He had always been honest to a fault.
“I love you,” I said before taking a bite of food. It was perfect and heavenly.
“So then why did you go to Aemond? Why spend the afternoon without me?” His voice was pained and his lip quivered a little.
Did he not know that it was not that way? It wasn’t like I chose Aemond over Jacaerys. He had merely been the one to come to my room.
“My moon, I had been on my way to see Vhaela and he approached me. I did not go seek him out,” I nearly pleaded with him. I reached across the table to take his hand in mine and squeeze it.
“I am not oblivious to the fact you were with him in the year you spent here with grandsire. But you and I are meant to be husband and wife. Formally so, now,” he whispered. His eyes moved to look at his plate.
My heart ached at the thought of hurting him. He was everything to me. My best friend, the moon and stars in my night sky, my fire on a cold night. When I spoke of him being my other half, it was not an exaggeration. Without him there was no me.
Even so, I could not pretend that everything was fine and as it was before I woke on the beach. While I had been stuck in place, everyone around me continued to grow and thrive and change. Pretending they hadn’t was like ignoring the rain as it washes away the earth. I would be fine as long as it was raining and I could use the water to maneuver. But once the flood subsided, I would be stranded without knowing where I was.
“But should we be? It has been five years, Jacaerys. Hell, I wasn’t even with you for a year before I disappeared. What if the person you are now does not love the person I am?”
“I could give you everything you could ever wish for when I am King. I will give you every child your heart could desire, I will love you until my final breath. Why is that not enough?” he asked before looking back up at me. The way he said it made me question if he was more hurt or angry. “Or is this back to the ridiculous notion that since Aegon the Conqueror had two wives you could have two husbands?”
“I wish to know where my heart truly lies. I wish to know if I marry you it is purely for love and not anything to do with duty. Why can you not give me that?”
He was silent for a moment longer than I would have liked. Was it truly an unreasonable request? All I ever wanted was a life of love. I knew Jace would love me for as long as we lived, and I would love him. But if it weren’t an equal love, if it were a love that was weighed down by a sense of duty, where was the honor in that? How could I subject both of us to that?
“So you wish to replace me?” he asked me. He yanked his hand away from me as he pushed up from the table. “I can only assume with Aemond.”
“I am not replacing you!” I said firmly. “You are my twin, my other half, there is no replacing you.”
I quickly stood up too, trying to be on his level, to prove I was on his side. But it was too quickly and I cried out in pain. The Maesters figured it had only been a month at most since they were cracked. As such, they warned me of the potential for severe pain, making it difficult to move or breathe without risking it. At first I thought they were full of shit, but with my ribs feeling like they’re on fire and my breathing causing agonizing pain, I realized I had just been stubborn.
No matter his anger, he rushed to close the distance between us and hold me steady. Even when he was angry or hurt, it was never enough to take over his compassion. Jace truly was too good for this world.
I couldn’t help but nuzzle him as he held me. Never was it my intention to hurt him. I just didn’t want to rob something from him that he above all people deserved. A happy, love filled life.
“How could you do this to me?” he whispered while holding me close. “I have lived without you for over six years. I alone waited for you.”
“It is not something I’ve done to you, Jace,” I insisted. “I do not wish to exclude you. I just want to explore my heart.”
He sighed softly and set me back down in my chair. Kneeling in front of me, he pushed my hair back from my face. I loved him so much. I could only hope he still understood that.
“I have dreamt of you every night since you left my side,” he whispered. “Even so, I cannot make you unhappy. If you are sure, then I will not object. But do not make me stay away from you.”
It was never easy to stay away from him. The first time I ever tried to was when I became aware of how desperately I wanted to cross the lines of what was proper. Being around him had been overwhelming, so I elected to just stay away. But eventually he became frustrated with me and came to my room in the middle of the night to demand answers. That was the night he took my maidenhead. To this day I wouldn’t change a thing about it.
“Then you cannot ask me to stay away from him. I want this to be true and fair, issa dārys,” I whispered to him.
He said nothing, instead moving forward and pushing his lips to mine. His movements were cautious as to avoid causing me more pain in my busted lip, but I could feel a hunger behind it. All thoughts but him left me.
Jace pulled away far too soon, standing from his position in front of me. Within a moment he had me in his arms, holding me off the floor. I couldn’t help but giggle wildly at this. The sound made him smile and then he carried me to my bed.
In truth, for the longest time this was our bed. No matter how often our parents tried, we always found our way back into the same bed. It is why the room is decorated equally in our favorite colors. Once we had painted the wall behind the bed to look like a sunset, mixing stunning oranges and purples that felt like home. Warm and wonderful just like Jace.
“I love you,” he whispered in my ear as he began desperately pulling at the laces along my back that held my dress to me.
“I love you,” I whispered, pulling at his shirt. He pulled back just enough to allow me to pull it over his head and toss it aside before he put his lips to my neck.
My dress fell from my shoulders and chest, leaving my breasts exposed to him. The way Jace stared with nothing short of an animalistic hunger made me whimper in pleasure. Within a matter of moments he was massaging the left one and attaching his lips to the right. He sucked little red marks into the flesh, so insignificant that they would disappear by the morning, but leaving a stinging sensation wherever he touched that reminded me this was real.
When he took my hardened nipple in between his lips, grazing it with his teeth, I gasped in pleasure. It had been far too long since I had felt his touch. He made sure I was aware of it, too. He sucked eagerly, never once stopping the massaging movements he made with his hand. Moans of his name fell from my lips as though he were the god I worshipped.
He pulled away from me with a loud pop. “Always been so perfect for me,” he whispered to me. “Made for me, weren’t you, issa dāria?”
I was rendered speechless as Jace pulled my dress from me completely, followed quickly by his pants. In his naked form he was everything a girl could ask for. His muscles were firm and well defined, biceps large enough so that I could not wrap a hand around them. Any baby fat on his stomach had melted into six individually defined muscles. Somehow there was no hair along his chest, but a small line of hair connected his navel to the curly brown hair at the base of his cock.
Every time I saw his cock, my jaw dropped slightly. He was easily ten inches in length and thick enough so that I could barely touch my thumb and middle finger together when holding it. It was monstrous in size but he was so loving and sweet it never caused excessive pain. His cock was hard, red at the tip with pre-cum beading on it. I glanced up to his face to find him blushing as I looked him over.
“Still so shy after all the nights we spent together?” I asked him quietly.
“You must remember that while it has not been so long for you, it has been damn near seven years for me. So shut up,” he said, blushing even more at my teasing. I couldn’t help but giggle.
“No passage of time could ever change the love I have for you, or how perfect I find you,” I whispered before taking one of his hands in mine.
He moved to hover over me, a knee on either side of my own, his cock resting against my thighs. His eyes were easy to follow as he dragged his gaze along my body, starting at my face and working his way down. Every cut or scar, no matter how small, earned a kiss against the skin. Taking extra care with the bruise on my ribs, he pressed small kisses along the edges of it where it did not cause any pain. The pure intimacy of it was enough to cause a heat to build as my pussy became increasingly wet.
Just as he was about to continue leaving kisses down the rest of my body, I reached down to grab his chin. The touch was enough to get him to connect his gaze with me.
“Love me, Jace,” I whispered, pleading with him. I couldn’t take the sweet torture that was his foreplay.
“You are not ready for me yet, love,” he said.
“I am plenty wet for you. The rest I do not care about,” I told him.
“I do not wish to cause you more pain,” he insisted, but I leaned up and kissed him, my eyes fluttering shut.
This time it was I who kissed him hungrily. Being like this with him, I felt like I had been starving and all that I wanted was right in front of me. My sweet twin, one who had always put me above anyone else. Even now when I can feel how needy he is as his cock leaked pre-cum onto my thigh, he needed to put me above him.
Carefully I slid down some, so that his cock was now resting on my hip. Reaching between us I grabbed it, giving a few lazy strokes. He groaned against my lips when I aligned the tip to my waiting cunt.
He pulled back just enough to separate our lips. My eyes opened quickly so that I could look at him. His eyes were soft, waiting for me to tell him to go.
I nodded ever so slightly. That was all he needed to push forward into me. Already he was moaning my name as he sunk inch after inch into me. It ached quite a lot after not having him inside me for so long. But still, I couldn’t ask him to stop. The ache was pleasurable and needed.
He got nearly three quarters of his cock inside me before he stilled. He was breathing heavily, obviously struggling with restraint but giving me time to adjust. I pressed kisses over every part of his face before laying back so that I could admire him. Jacaerys was a god among men, that I was certain of.
“I’m okay, love,” I whispered to him. One look in my eyes was all he needed to be sure.
He hooked my right leg behind my knee and pulled it to lay against his chest. A cry of both pleasure and pain came out of my lips at the way this caused him to reach further in me than he ever had. There was a small smirk on his face. The cheeky fucker knew exactly what he did.
Setting a near torturous pace, he pulled out of me slowly and pushed back in. The pain I felt was indistinguishable from pleasure. Every twitch and every throb of his cock, I could feel entirely. Then Jace pressed his thumb to my clit, rubbing in tandem with each movement of his hips. When his cock was buried inside me, he rubbed against it eagerly, like he was trying to make me cum right then and there. And then every time my body started tightening up and I began to see stars, he pulled out to just his tip and all but stopped touching my clit.
I glared at him the sixth time he did it while feeling my approaching orgasm back off. It made him chuckle as he bent down, pressing my knee to my shoulder, with only the tip of his cock nestled inside me.
“You feel so good, you know that, love?” he whispered to me. “Feels like your cunt was designed with my cock in mind. Bet I would fit perfectly if I went all the way to my balls, don’t you?” With widened eyes I nodded eagerly. “Have I fucked you stupid already, pretty girl?”
This was a side to him I hadn’t seen before. Normally he was whispering praises to me, thanking the gods for me, and I gave him the same. But it was not unwelcome. In fact, I could feel myself clench around him as a whine built up in my throat.
“That’s okay, baby, don’t need you to say anything. Can feel how much you love this,” he whispered before driving his hips forward.
I wrapped my left leg around his waist so that I could pull him closer into me. Each powerful thrust had me moaning out his name. The sounds of my moans and his heavy balls slapping against my ass was all that could be heard echoing around the room. A wave started building inside me, the intensity of it increasing while he stroked my clit again. This time he never let up.
“Cum around my cock, pretty girl,” he said to me. “Fuck, Y/N, so fucking tight. So perfect for me.” His breathing became more labored as he punctuated each word with a moan.
“Gods, Jace!” I cried out when the orgasmic wave crashed over me. He looked to where his cock sank into me. The evidence of my orgasm soaked his stomach, sliding down his skin and dripping onto the bed.
Jace’s thrusts became erratic as my cunt squeezed around him. Within seconds, he was crying out my name and his hips stuttered to a stop. I could feel every inch of his cock throb and twitch as his cum poured into me.
He was very careful as he pulled out. Both of us whined at the loss of contact, but his turned quickly into a moan when he saw a string of my juices mixed with his between his cock and my body. With a goofy little smile he laid beside me and pulled the blanket up over the both of us.
“You have had my heart for our entire lives,” he whispered to me. “I am not giving yours up without a fight.”
With one last kiss to my forehead, he held me close to him before we both went to sleep.
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horizon-verizon · 1 year
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The vast continent, stretching from the narrow sea to the fabled Jade Sea and faraway Ulthos, seems to be the place where civilization as we know it developed. The first of these (not withstanding the dubious claims of Qarth, the YiTish legends of the Great Empire of the Dawn, and the difficulties of finding any truth in the tales of legendary Asshai) was rooted in Old Ghis: a city built upon slavery. The legendary founder of the city, Grazdan the Great, remains so revered that men of the slaver families are still often given his name. It was he who, according to the oldest histories of the Ghiscari, founded the lockstep legions with their tall shields and three spears, which were the first to fight as disciplined bodies. Old Ghis and its army proceeded to colonize its surroundings, then, pressing on, to subjugate its neighbors. Thus was the first empire born, and for centuries it reigned supreme.
A World of Ice and Fire, pg. 13
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