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She remembers everything: the denial, the bargaining, the depression, and the anger. It was only in death that she finally reached the stage of acceptance. She had given everything for him. Her children, her armies, her closest friends, and advisors. She had received nothing in return. Only more loss and death, and with each one it was as if she had broken a promise that she had made in the east. She allowed her depression to swell and consume her. She knew all too well what was happening. From the moment that Missandei had died in chains she remembered what she had seen as a young girl. Remembers Viserys, selling their mothers crown, carrying her through dark alleys to get away from the men sent to kill them. She had watched depression sink its talons into his flesh until he lashed out.
And was she no different? When looking upon the things, the awful things, that Jon had done, was she no different? Where did their difference lie at? Was it because she was a woman and he a man? Was that why what he had done was just and reasonable, and why she was mad ?
She could have said no. She could have defeated the tyrant that was Cersei Lannister. She could have heeded Olynna’s advice more closely by not listening to Tyrion. She could have taken Kings Landing and began the process of breaking the wheel before going to the Battle of Ice and Fire with every army and dragon she had.
Daenerys could have had all that she had promised others.
Daenerys could have broken the wheel.
That is why when she awakens from death there is only acceptance. Kinvara presses a cool hand to the wound before smiling into the flames. She had promised to serve Daenerys even in death.
“The Princess that was promised brought the Dawn. If it wasn’t for you what lead to Arya Stark killing the Other wouldn’t have been possible. It is a shame that you were only given betrayals for it.”
Kinvara keeps her in a room of dark wood and red silk until one day she opens the windows to allow the sounds of the city to enter. It is disorienting to think of the east, of what she had left behind, and how looking back at it had only made her feel lost. It had taken her days to come to terms that Jon had killed her. That after her promise that she would liberate the world that only a final betrayal would end it all. It would be foolish to say that Daenerys had not loved Jon. However, it would be even more foolish to accept that she would sail once again to be with him. She had made mistakes in trust and creed. Loving Jon had been perhaps the greatest of them all.
In the days following the acceptance, in feeling her heartbreak flux with anger and dejection, she finally expressed the next thing to cloud her mind. Luckily for her, Kinvara was a good listener for a priestress.
“I knew that Tyrion would always choose his family. I had wanted for Cersei to surrender so that I could show her mercy that no one else would give. I would be lying if I said that I didn’t see the good in the Kingslayer, and I understand that it was my mistake to think anything less of my Hand. Because despite everything, Tyrion loved his family, even the ones who called him monster. It is why I made him my hand--one of the reasons.”
“He reminded you of someone?” Kinvara tilts her head to the side, her eyes catching in the light, the fire casting a glow on her that makes Daenerys feel something .
“Of myself. No matter how bad Viserys became I always loved him. I loved Rhaegar despite his faults. I loved who my father had once been before he became ill of mind. I loved what my family had been, and no matter what they did to anyone or myself I loved them.”
“If you could fix it would you? Would you love your family, this Aegon Targaryen whose name is Snow?”
“Like I said, I always will love my family.”
When Kinvara releases her from the room she feels better than she had. She dresses in a style similar to the priestress, in robes that are far lighter in colour than anything she had worn in a long time, and there is not a single aspect of her house in it.
“I do not understand.” She tells Kinvara as the red priestress walks her through a path of lemon trees. The lemon trees , Daenerys thinks, that had been her dream long before she had seen the Iron Throne covered in snow. And Kinvara seems to understand because at the end of it all is a red door.
Lemon trees leading to a red door . It sent her heart racing into her throat, her hand reaching for the other womans, as the remains of her stab wound burn .
“Your next step is beyond those doors. The Lord of Light is not done with this world or you, but know this Daenerys Stormborn. This choice is yours. Go beyond or remain here amongst the trees. I will not sway you as others have.” Kinvara is truthful in this. Her smile is with the sun and Daenerys knows that she could stay amongst the lemon trees without ever crossing behind the red door. She knows she could change her name and become a priestress, but in due time this would be her first choice without sway in a long time.
“I want to go through the red door. I want to see what is on the other side.”
“As you wish.”
The red door is made of crimson oak from the northern reaches of Essos. It’s paint is both new and fresh, and old and worn. And as Daenerys opens the red door in the path of lemon trees she knows that this is the beginning and the end.
Stepping through she thinks of Sir Barristan and Jorah, Missandei, Viserion and Rhaegal, her Dothraki and Unsullied who died. She thinks of what she has lost by looking forward into the sunlight and as she finally looks behind she watches as the red door closes behind Kinvara.
“Dany.” She hears echo across from her, and when she turns she truly wonders if she is still dead. If perhaps this is the afterlife given to those that follow the R’hollor. Because on the other side of the courtyard is Viserys. Viserys, her brother, unblemished by melted gold, with a look in his eyes that she had not seen in so long. Beside him stands Yara Greyjoy and a Dornishman who look at her with heartache.
“How is this possible?” She ask remembering how they had left Viserys body in a ditch bordering the Great Grass Sea. Drogo would not bury him and at the time she had been to concerned with her babe growing within her.
“A dragon has three heads. Viserys death had awoken something just as your death had. It took many years to get where he is, but he is a true dragon. He is what was lost.” Kinvara stepped forward to bridge them together with brown eyes that flashed in light.
Daenerys felt overwhelmed, she would be lying if she said that she wasn’t, but as Viserys stepped forward and embraced her she knew that she had made a good choice by choosing the red door.
“But a dragon does not have to be a Targaryen to behold the flames.” Kinvara raised her hand, “And it is truly a shame that some will not see dragons enter the world once again.”