Thursday, May 3, 2012

Game of Thrones: House Targaryen

House Targaryen of Dragonstone
Blazen: Three-headed dragon
Words: Fire and Blood
Family: Prince Viserys, Princess Daenerys

This is the story that thrills me to no end, it's like it was written specifically for me: Blonde girl gets married off to the baddest Dothraki Khal that ever was, loses both her husband and newly born son in the same space of days and then hatches three dragons and takes over as the leader? And look at that sigil! COME ON. I couldn't possibly love it any more.

Viserys Targaryen: Assumed heir and last blood of the dragon. Total prick and absolute poser (not a dragon). Wants a golden crown from Khal Drogo's Khalasar, after drawing a weapon on sacred Dothraki ground and insulting Daenerys, he gets it. Poured in molten form over his head by Drogo.

Khal Drogo: A true Dothraki warrior never conquered, he purchases wife Daenerys from Viserys in exchange for a golden crown (see above). Is weakened and eventually poisoned by blood magic at the hands of a witch-woman.

Ser Jorah Mormont: Daenerys' exiled knight and bodyguard. Seems an interesting man. I like him.

Daenerys Targaryen: The true blood of the dragon: cannot be burned, enchants Khal Drogo enough to desire intercourse in face-to-face positions, conceives son, consumes raw heart to completion, loses baby, smothers vegetative husband, nurses dragons, wins the loyalty of the remaining Khalasar:

"Jhogo took the whip from her hands, but his face was confused. 'Khaleesi,' he said hesitantly, 'this is not done. It would shame me to be bloodrider to a woman.'

Aggo accepted the bow with lowered eyes. 'I cannot say these words. Only a man can lead a khalasar or name a ko.'

'You are khaleesi,' Rakharo said, taking the arakh, 'I shall ride at your side to Vaes Dothrak beneath the mother of mountains and keep you safe from harm until you take your place with the crones of the dosh khaleen. No more I can promise.'

. . . When the fire died at last and the ground became cool enough to walk upon, Ser Jorah Mormont found her amidst the ashes, surrounded by blackened logs and bits of glowing ember and the burnt bones of man and woman and stallion. She was naked, covered with soot, her clothes turned to ash, her beautiful hair all crisped away . . . but she was not hurt.

The cream-and-gold dragon was suckling at her left breast, the green-and-bronze at the right. Her arms cradled them close. The black-and-scarlet beast was draped across her shoulders, its long, sinuous neck coiled under her chin. When it saw Jorah, it raised its head and looked at him with eyes as red as coals.

Wordless, the knight fell to his knees. The men of her khas came up behind him. Jhogo was the first to lay his arakh at her feet. 'Blood of my blood,' he murmured, pushing his face to the smoking earth. 'Blood of my blood,' she heard Aggo echo. 'Blood of my blood,' Rakharo shouted."