[She does not shy from the shift nor does she stop looking into his eyes. Daenerys has seen horrors in the East - mostly accomplished by men - and she has convinced herself to never, ever look away. She must face the truth, confront it, learn from it and control her fear even if it flies at her in a wild frenzy.
The memories - not her own - fill her mind and she sways, grabbing onto a table to steady herself. The color in her cheeks fades, but he will sense no fear in her. At least not a fear she should feel upon seeing a monster like Glaurung.
No, she has the heart of a conqueror and even as she peers into that beast's eyes, her resolve hardens. You could be mine. He is a fine Dragon; undisciplined - as one would expect of any Dragon, truly - but under the control of a rider who cared for him, perhaps he could be better.
Not safer.
More intelligent. He would understand his territory; his worth and his rider would keep him satisfied. Her nails dig into her palms and she stands rigid, her lips parted in horror and wonder.
So much death. Is this what awaits her on Westeros? Dragons never stop growing. If her sons live for a century or two more, they will be monsters too. Not the size of the mighty Glaurung, but...
All they need is time.]
Keso glaesot iderēptot daor.
[A tear rolls down her cheek as the connection is abruptly ended. She grieves for those fallen and for the Dragon that was made to do the bidding of a cruel Master; one who did not guide him, but let him run wild.]
There were three Dragons once... They were wild, untamable. They too met sorry ends.
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Date: 2017-06-17 02:00 am (UTC)The memories - not her own - fill her mind and she sways, grabbing onto a table to steady herself. The color in her cheeks fades, but he will sense no fear in her. At least not a fear she should feel upon seeing a monster like Glaurung.
No, she has the heart of a conqueror and even as she peers into that beast's eyes, her resolve hardens. You could be mine. He is a fine Dragon; undisciplined - as one would expect of any Dragon, truly - but under the control of a rider who cared for him, perhaps he could be better.
Not safer.
More intelligent. He would understand his territory; his worth and his rider would keep him satisfied. Her nails dig into her palms and she stands rigid, her lips parted in horror and wonder.
So much death. Is this what awaits her on Westeros? Dragons never stop growing. If her sons live for a century or two more, they will be monsters too. Not the size of the mighty Glaurung, but...
All they need is time.]
Keso glaesot iderēptot daor.
[A tear rolls down her cheek as the connection is abruptly ended. She grieves for those fallen and for the Dragon that was made to do the bidding of a cruel Master; one who did not guide him, but let him run wild.]
There were three Dragons once... They were wild, untamable. They too met sorry ends.
Was this Glaurung slain?