danielle romero ✳ daenerys targaryen (thetruedragon) wrote in thereincarnates, @ 2011-07-30 22:52:00 |
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Entry tags: | danielle romero |
Who: Danielle Romero
What: A moment with her dragons.
Where: Her apartment in LA
When: Saturday night, July 30th, 2011
Warnings: Mild spoilers for A Song of Ice and Fire beyond the first book/season, but they're pretty vague.
A queen belongs not to herself but to her people.
Disgusted, Danielle slammed the book shut with a snarl, unintentionally causing her dragons to react in kind. From her lap Viserion raised his small horned head, golden eyes quizzical; Rhaegal jumped and took flight from his perch on the bookcase; and Drogon, ever her fiercest child, snarled as well, scorching his pillow with a short burst of fire. For the first time in a long time, Danielle was too distracted to reprimand him – too... too angry. Daenerys had always been a reincarnate her host had been proud of, but then Meereen happened. Then Hazzea happened. And now this. Another marriage. A wrong marriage. It was enough to make her scream.
Not that she didn't understand her reincarnate's many plights. Danielle didn't need Dany's experiences to know that being a queen wasn't easy; simply being a woman was hard enough. When it came right down to it? Westeros and the good ol' U. S. of A weren't so different. Women were still treated like shit, and girls were treated even worse. Like Daenerys, Danielle had overcome that. The way men treated her stopped bothering her the day her children were born. Her son Drake (sleeping now, safe in his crib) was partly responsible – a single mother couldn't let trivialities bother her, and opinions were definitely trivial – but her dragons. They were her armor. They made her invincible.
But like Daenerys, all it took was one misstep, one surprise, to know that that wasn't exactly true. A surprise like finding out her new boss was a god. The thought made her cold. "Rhaegal. Drogon," she called suddenly, setting the book aside to make room. "To me." Slowly but obediently, they flew to her, green-and-bronze Rhaegal curling in next to his cream-and-gold brother, while black Drogon dug his talons mercilessly into her shoulders and wrapped his tail around her neck. Viserion snapped at them both before crawling across her lap and into the crook of her arm, and she held him there, cradling him like a babe. They were so hot, her children, fire made flesh, but still she felt cold. A god had more need for dragons than men did. Gods were greedy, gods were selfish, and gods took. They never gave. Danielle didn't need Daenerys at all to know that. It was a fact of life, wasn't it? Life wasn't fair, and in a god's eyes, a queen was just as insignificant as a stripper. Danielle happened to be both, but she was still just a girl. There was nothing special about her. Except for her dragons.
"We'll have to be more careful from now on," she murmured, contemplative, stroking the soft skin under Viserion's jaw. "Protect yourselves, protect your brothers. And I'll protect you. And always remember this: a dragon is no slave. Not even to a god."
Daenerys Targaryen was a child of dragons, a bride of dragons, a mother of dragons. So was Danielle, and she smiled softly at her children, though her eyes told a different story. They blazed with determination, with a confidence that could only come from a queen. Part of her almost hoped that Fox would try something with her. She really did. A god would be an impressive first kill for her young monsters. Daenerys Targaryen was, after all, a slayer of lies. Danielle Romero could be a killer of gods.
Drogon huffed when she laughed, red sparks flying among the black smoke from his lungs. "I like the sound of that. Don't you?"