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dolodi

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About dolodi

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    he/him

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  1. AN: So I completely forgot I wrote this, and it appears I never posted it. And based on the title, it looks like I had more plans for it that I never got around to writing and subsequently.. forgot. Depending on the reception, I may or may not write more, but I figured I'd drop it on here for the community to enjoy. I did write this before the new policy change, but I'm pretty sure it still complies with the community guidelines, but if it doesn't please let me know and I'll take it down immediately. Without further ado: BANG BANG BANG. “Pleeeease hurry up!” Kylie exclaimed as she pounded on the bathroom door. “Whoever you are, PLEASE it’s an emergency!!!” Kylie was hunched against the door, one hand buried in her crotch, forcing her skirt to ride up and show off a hint of her white spankies. Kylie’s lithe and petite build was quivering in her green and white cheerleader’s uniform. “COME ON, WHAT’S TAKING SO LONG!” she whined at the door, quickly losing hope she’d make it out of this situation dry. In reality, she had only been outside the door for 2 or 3 minutes, but time was quickly running out for her. The door suddenly sprang open without warning, startling Kylie and making her spurt into her panties. “S-sorr-sorry. I was nervous about auditions,” a petite Freshman in the same uniform said wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Kylie couldn’t care less as she bolted into the bathroom and slammed the door behind her losing precious liquids as she fiddled with the lock. If there were witnesses, a thin rivulet could be seen trailing down her thigh. She quickly turned around, whilst bobbing and quivering, hands ready to get her out of her uniform asap. “What the FUCK!?!” Kylie exclaimed, “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she added as the abhorrent smell hit her. Wrinkling her nose, she stared at the horrid sight before her. There was vomit everywhere. On the seat, on the floor around the toilet. Kylie stood there in frozen horror, still subconsciously bobbing in desperation... until another spurt woke her from her reverie. The view of the toilet was driving her crazy, and she slowly approached the disgusting throne, 3 more rivulets staining her spankies and running down both of her quivering thighs. Tears of frustration leaked down her face as she shakily got out of her panties and spankies, both of which were suitably damp. Lowering her head in shame she lifted her skirts and squatted on the floor and released an absolute torrent. To her horror the puddle started to seep out from under the door, where she heard an exclamation. She willed herself to finish quickly so she could flee the scene when BANG BANG BANG “What’s going on in there!?!” That’s how Kylie fell out of immediate contention for captainship of the cheer team. The janitor had been furious and blamed the whole mess on her. Added to the fact that these facilities didn’t belong to the school, they threatened to never invite the school again, due to their disrespectful youth. School hadn’t even begun, and Kylie already had a month’s detention going into her Senior Year of high school. And thus, Kylie’s Chronicles: Quest for Captainship. A little postface now that I have your attention: It all began a month before school was to start. All the girls trying out for the team including the handful that were vying for the top spot were required to go to a State-wide Cheer Event for a week. At the event, each team was given an area to practice and learn new routines for half a day, while the other half of the day would be for whatever the girls wanted to do. This event was set-up because the state was proud of how many high schools in the state would win the national competition. They soon set up competitions across the state that would help boost the local economies by having an influx of visitors in town with the intent to compete. A couple powerhouse programs started to thrive thanks to the increased exposure, so the state set up this event to help the teams retain their competitive edge from year to year. Anyway, this year the West Oaktree Acorns were invited along with 11 other programs from across the state. In years past it was only ever 6 squads who got the invite, but a lawsuit from programs not receiving invites changed that quick. The downside being the facility was located on the other side of the state, so a 5-hour bus ride was required. Kylie got out of her car her parents got her for her 16th birthday, irked that someone had taken her usual spot. Huffing to herself she popped her trunk and slung her overnight bag over her shoulder. Grabbing her Nalgene with her other hand she closed her trunk, locked her car, and set off toward where everyone was gathered. “Everyone gather round! Gather round!” Their coach, Ms. Spoked corralled everyone to where she was standing on a table, mentally doing a head count. “Now that everyone is here, I’d like to congratulate everyone for making it through the first two rounds of cuts!” After the cheering subsided, she continued, “Now. Because we didn’t know our final numbers for this trip until last week, I had to call the bus company later than usual. So unfortunately, at least for the trip there, we will not have our customary coach bus, but a regular school bus. It should be here in 10 minutes so use the restrooms while you can, there will be no stops!” With a collective groan, the girls put their gear down and started to filter into the nearest building in search of the restrooms. Having gone to school at West Oaktree HS for the past 3 years Kylie knew the way and followed a handful of other upperclassmen to the nearest ladies’ room. She let her friends go first because she didn’t really need to go all that much and instead looked into the mirror. Standing at 5’6” she was about an average height in the cheer squad. She liked to think she was the prettiest with her shoulder length blonde hair adorned with green ribbons and striking green eyes, but there were a lot of beautiful girls on the squad. There were certainly a few of them with better assets. Though she was glad she didn’t have to deal with back pain like her friend Izzy, she often found herself wishing her chest size was larger than a B Cup. She found herself looking over her shoulder at her ass in the mirror, quietly pleased all her hard training gave her something for guys to drool over. She had a tight-toned ass, and she wouldn’t give it up for anything in the world. “You done ogling yourself in the mirror” her fellow senior Annabelle asked, as she finished drying her hands, “The bus should be here by now, let’s go.” Kylie glanced toward the stalls and realized she must have zoned out while admiring herself in the mirror, for they were all empty. “Yea, sorry, let’s go.” As I mentioned earlier, I don't really remember what direction I was going with this story, so I'm open to fresh ideas that fit the theme to rekindle my inspiration. Anyway, thanks for reading!
  2. True, and thanks @Thispieguy1. Just saw the shout out lol. Also bumping the topic, because I enjoy this interactive and don't want it to die Regardless, I respect the author's choice on the matter seeing as I abandon my own stories on a whim often enough.
  3. This is so cool! Love the background and intricacy! Minor Drought
  4. Definitely agree. Plus now we know they're attracted by the smell of urine, so maybe Frankie can lure them and Claire can pistol whip the back of their heads. Either way, guns are loud and we don't need anymore attention drawn to us.
  5. Okay I just want to be 100% certain. What about per say the Game of Thrones stories I've been writing/ignoring. What if the actress herself was an adult being portrayed as younger character in the show? Would it be okay to write about them if that were the case, or would it only be okay to write about them if they were an adult portraying an adult?
  6. 1a). We need those bullets. She doesn't need to sit on the toilet to use it, and having the distraction of a full bladder out in the open is detrimental for our survival chances.
  7. Yea, I'm definitely going to have Arya and Sansa stuff in this episode, and I'm looking forward to doing more Daenerys stuff as well. That's a good point though, it'll be trickier to write once she becomes empowered but I have a few scenarios in mind. I'm going to try and get some writing done this weekend, it's been awhile since I last updated
  8. Yea, I didn't feel like looking too much into their ages so I apologize for any inconsistencies. I think going forward, I'm going to treat the children a little older only because I feel weird writing about a younger cast, just a personal preference on my part. But I did write Myrcella that way because it was easier to draw it all together by Cercei acting on her motherly instinct. Going forward though, I don't really plan on mentioning ages, so I can let you guys decide for yourselves what age you want to view the characters and I'll do my best to write them in such a way that they don't seem either to childish or too mature depending on the character. So in Myrcella's case, I think I'll write her a tad bit more mature. Other than that, I have mostly everything planned out for the rest of the episode. I'm still not sure what I'm going to make Cersei's fate, but I do have plans for her in a later segment, which I'm excited about. If anyone has ideas with the story going forward, or ideas they want to see me write in a segment, message me. I'm all ears and don't want to repeat the same scenarios over and over again. Only taking requests for season 1 right now, mostly because I'll forget in the long run if someone gave me an idea for season 3, because that's a long way off with my writing pace. Also keep in mind I generally don't write about male desperation or scat, but I'm open to hearing ideas and deciding on a case by case basis. Edit: *as a sidenote, since I'm basing it primarily on the show script, the characters I write about will be based off the tv show characters and their ages; but like I said, I'll try not to mention their exact age, so you can depict them how you will.
  9. Winterfell “We need plenty of candles for Lord Tyrion’s chamber. I’m told he reads all night.” Catelyn strode into the banquet hall, looking frazzled having been up before dawn prepping for the procession’s arrival. “I’m told he drinks all night.” Maester Luwin commented idly. “How much could he possibly drink? A man of his… stature?” “We’ve brought up eight barrels of ale from the cellar. Perhaps we’ll find out.” “In any case, candles.” Catelyn just as swift as she entered, strode out. Feeling overburdened by the preparations and on account she hadn’t a moment to herself since sun-up remembered human need and thus shouted behind her, “And an extra chamber pot!” Approaching the courtyard, she notices Jon, Robb, and Theon loitering around the training area. “BOYS! BARBER. NOW!” Without a second glance she strides once more to the gate, hoping to get a clue on the arrival time. The clue did come in the form of a disobedient child, by the name of “BRANDON!” “I saw the King! He’s got hundreds of people.” His eyes wide with wonder as he jumped down from the last stretch of wall. Catelyn’s own eyes widening as she felt overwhelmed by how little time they had left to prepare before they narrowed, “How many times have I told you: No. Climbing.” Fixing her second born son with a stern gaze. “But he’s coming right now! Down our road!” Bouncing excitedly, almost remind her like a child that needs to- “I want you to promise me,” mentally calculating if she had enough time to pass her waters before the procession arrived, “No more climbing.” Bran looked down at his feet before meeting his mother’s gaze, “I promise.” “Do you know what?” Catelyn asked painfully aware precious time was passing. “What?” Bran exchanged, relieved that was the last of the climbing spiel… “You always look at your feet before you lie. Run and find your father. Tell him the king is close.” With that she strode of her heel in the opposite direction, back towards the castle. “Come Summer!” Bran ran past her into the Castle halls with his direwolf in tow. Catelyn strode purposefully into the halls of Winterfell, towards her and Ned’s chambers. But a distant shout caught her off-guard, “Forward scouts spotted!” Cursing under her breath she changed direction to the guest relief area. These were closest to the courtyard and banquet hall, located in the hallway behind the high table. They were more ornate than strictly necessary, but they were for esteemed guests, or members of the family. Relief for other company were across the courtyard in a less private setting, and servants and maids had their own quarters for such a thing as well. There were of course, chamber pots in each room of the family, but there wasn’t enough time to venture around for absolute privacy. So, Catelyn entered one of the two guest chambers and swiftly went about her business owing to short amount of time on hand. One of the many things she hated about the North were the furs and layers you needed to wear to keep warm. It certainly was a hassle in a time such as this. Nevertheless, she sighed as she sat down, emptying herself into the chamber pot below. Keenly aware of the time, she gathered herself together and left as quickly as possible to help form the assembly in the courtyard, forgetting to tell an attendant to empty the contents of the guest pots for their royal visitors. Standing patiently next to her husband, and looking significantly less frazzled, stood Catelyn surveying her surrounds. Her brow furrowed, “Where’s Arya?” Her question aimed at her second born, Sansa, just as the procession rode through the gate. Before Sansa can answer, they all kneel as King Robert Baratheon rides through the gate. Glancing over to Sansa once more, she sees Arya has taken her place with a helmet on her head? One which the bastard, Jon Snow, subtly lifts from her head and hides behind his back. Robert dismounts from his mount and gestures for everyone to rise before turning to Ned. Rising, Ned still bows his head as he utters, “Your Grace.” “You’ve got fat.” Robert puts bluntly, as Ned’s head whips up incredulous. They both suddenly start laughing, easing the palpable tension in the courtyard as they embrace as old friends.“Cat!” Robert turns to Catelyn Stark. “Your Grace,” she intones, a slight bow of the head. “Nine years. Why haven’t I seen you? Where the hell have you been?” Robert turns back to Ned. “Guarding the North for you, Your Grace. Winterfell is yours.” Ned replies respectfully. In the meantime, side conversations have erupted as Queen Cersei and the rest of her children descend from the coach, “Where’s the Imp?” Arya, ever the firebrand peers on her tippy-toes trying to see the dwarf. “Will you shut up?” Sansa remarks, drawing a reproachful look from her younger sister. “And who have we here?” Robert was making his way down the line of Starks. “You must be Robb.” Then turning to Sansa, “My you’re a pretty one.” And once more to Arya, “Your name is?”More intrigued than offended, she replied, “Arya.” Robert once more proceeding down the line, “Ooh, show me your muscles,” to which Bran replies with flexed arms, “You’ll be a soldier.” Once again, ignoring her surroundings, Arya eyes the man in the golden armor who just removed his helm. “That’s Jaime Lannister. The queen’s twin brother.” “Would you please shut up.” Sansa repeats herself once more, her eyes never leaving the teenage Prince as he prances around the courtyard on his not quite mature pony, with his unwavering bodyguard, helm still affixed. Cersei approached her husband and the Stark family in slow, careful steps, seemingly tired of the pomp and circumstance. “My Queen.” Both Ned and Catelyn intone. But before Cersei can get a word in, Robert interrupts, “Take me to your crypt. I want to pay my respects.” Affronted at being spoken over, Cersei seethes, “We’ve been riding for a month, my love. Surely the dead can wait.” Her stance hostile and shifty to the practiced eye. Glancing at his wife, before brushing her off the King turns once more to his old friend, “Ned.” Nodding his head towards the crypt. As the two disappear down the stairs of the crypt and the Queen still standing before Catelyn uncertain on how she should broach the matter without appearing weak, Arya piped up, “Where’s the Imp?” Humiliated and still distressed, Cersei carefully made her way back to Jaime, “Where is our brother? Go find that little beast.” She snaps angrily. Stopping at a tugging of her dress. Turning to see her daughter—her angel—looking up to her with wide eyes, she knelt, inwardly cringing as she squeezed her distressed bladder. The last stretch of the Kingsroad, Robert has been too excited to see his old friend again, and thus never kept to schedule often putting the horses and the procession to the test. They had been riding since at least the middle of the night, and it was now past high noon. She had been told there was a brief respite at dawn, one her children must have taken advantage of while she slept in the carriage. Considering that it was past high noon, she figured what her daughter wanted. Slightly grimacing at the pain the crouch put her in, she whispered, “Myrcella, what’s wrong angel?” Her motherly instinct taking over. “I need to attend the chamber-“ “Shush shush my sweet,” glancing around the courtyard, and seeing everyone disperse, she gratefully got onto her feet once more, and took Myrcella’s hand as she approached Catelyn once more. “Lady Stark,” Cersei visibly grimaced, though not in pain or the absolute desperation she felt, but to address an inferior in such a civil tone. “My Myrcella,” she proceeded to lower her voice for the next part, still aware of the many eyes of the relatively empty courtyard now, “would like to pass her water.” Catelyn off guard by the request, having expected them to request their chambers, waved off the attendants she had standing by. Such needs had no need for public awareness after all. “Oh! Of course, right this way.” Gathering her skirts, she approached the very same hall, she entered not moments before the procession arrived. Following behind Catelyn, her hands folded neatly in front of her, her daughter unbecomingly having shoved her hand into her dress. Catelyn led them a short way into a thankfully empty hallway, not because Cersei was visibly desperate (she’d rather die) but because she’d never allow the commoners to see her enter such a room to do such a common thing. Having stopped, Myrcella made a rush at one of the chamber rooms, but Cersei held her back much to Myrcella’s dismay. Catelyn gave her a raised eyebrow, not daring to question the Queen, but Cersei gave her a searing look, and Catelyn bustled away. Catelyn, entering the banquet hall once more nearly collided with an attendant, who was in search of her. “Lady Catelyn! I couldn’t find a spare chamber pot for Lord Tyrion’s chamber, so I took one form the guest relief area, because I figured he was a guest, so it seemed perfectly alright and…” he rambled on before Catelyn cut him off with her sharp stare. Catelyn sent him away, deciding that she’d find an alternative chamber pot later, after all the feast was going to be an affair all on its own. Shaking herself out of the stupor the usually library attendant (they needed all hand on deck) had put her in, she strode once more into the fray, barking directions. Myrcella looked up at her pleadingly, and Cersei beckoned her forth, the girl darting behind one curtain. After impatient ruffling for half a minute, a torrent of water echoed through the halls as a young girl’s bladder gradually deflated. Thankful that her daughter did not need her help, she entered behind the other curtain, already raising her skirts and undoing the ties where they needed to be undone. About halfway through the process, going painfully slow with trembling hands, she noted to her horror, the chamber pot was missing. Redoing all her hard work was torture for someone normally so composed, but she eventually made her way back into the hallway. Knowing there was no one looking, Cersei let her composure slide, and gripped her dress in both hands against her tensed thighs. She was in absolute agony, listening to her daughter release her contents into what seemed to be an already used chamber pot. Taking deep breath, Cersei squeezed her eyes closed, but quickly opened them as she imagined herself as the one on the pot. Taking another ragged breath, she asked, “Myrcella dear? Are you finished?” In a rather husky voice. “No, I mean yes, but only because this chamber pot looks pretty full.” Cersei closed her eyes once more, moisture of frustration building in her eye ducts, tears she refused to drop before she composed herself just as Myrcella exited the chamber after an equal amount of shuffling as before. “Wait here.” Cersei commanded, cutting off whatever Myrcella was about to say as she strode past the curtain to find that the chamber pot was indeed filled to the brim. Exiting the chamber, she saw a distressed Myrcella, “What’s wrong? Did you not pass your waters?” Shifting from side to side, “Yes. No, I did, but there wasn’t enough room and… and… I still really need to goooo.” She ended in a whisper. Feeling for her only daughter, she replied softly, and barely in control, “Come Myrcella, let’s find our chambers.” Grabbing her hand, they strode down the hall. Cersei bursting at the seams, though regally composed for any who might see, and Myrcella distressed at needing to cut off her stream, trying not to clutch herself. ~~~END Pt 1~~~ Okay so, I know this one was very dialogue and plot heavy in the courtyard, but I felt like it set up the last bit well. Also, I’m not entirely sure the ages of both Myrcella and Tommen at this point, because although she appears in both Season 1 and 2 fairly young, she appears in Season 5 depicting a mature young woman (also as a different actress). So, I figure I won’t put an age to the characters, and let you depict them how you will, so I apologize if I’ve gotten any mannerisms wrong. On another note, I usually like to make my desperation scenes more drawn out, instead of out of nowhere like these ones may seem, but I felt this segment was getting too lengthy. Rest assured, I will get it all down to a science, after all, this is still only the first episode.
  10. Yea, I've been meaning to do something like this for the past year now, but finally got around to it. I'll start writing the next part later tonight, so expect an update sometime this weekend!
  11. Pentos (cont'd) “Th-thank you,” Daenerys stutters as the bath slaves guides her into the water, gripping herself with dear life. “Just relax dear... well not too much, I suppose.” That was the last they spoke as the slaves started to scrub her clean with sand and rags. Daenerys deciding that sitting in the hot water was detrimental, stood up. And immediately regretted it. The cool summer air assaulted her causing her to lose a full seconds spurt. She moaned, knees bent, and hands clinging to her womanhood trying to stop the flow. Shivering now, she bade the washers to hurry their pace. She was in agony, frequently bobbing her ass and shifting weight from foot to foot, making the bath take much longer than it should’ve. Eventually they were satisfied enough with their work as Viserys burst in. “Everyone out! Why are you still naked, the Khal is about to arrive!” Viserys threw the dress at Daenerys forcing her to catch it and relinquish her hold and almost causing her to topple as she immediately crossed her legs. “What is this? This is not behavior befitting of a princess! Do you want me to lose my throne!” He rose his hand as if to strike her. “Please Viserys. I need to pass my water!” Daenerys exclaimed unshed tears of agony in her eyes. Viserys paused. “Into. The. Dress.” Viserys minced his words, fury etched on his face, “You see that sun?!” He pointed out the window to the horizon. “That’s what I would call sunset and were supposed to be in the courtyard!” Spittle was flying from his mouth as he reached for her arm before he stopped, almost thinking to himself. “Then again, since you can’t act like a princess, and the Khal isn’t here yet... fine, fine. Get that dress on.” He waited at the door impatiently as Daenerys squirmed and fidgeted trying to slip the dress on without soiling it. Demeaning, Viserys remarked, “It’s almost like you don’t even want to pass your waters, with that sluggish pace of yours.” Fury etched his brow once more, “Are you trying to make me late!” He roared. Daenerys had finally donned the loose fitting almost transparent article, the front scrunched up against her hand once more gripping her womanhood. Viserys strode over to Daenerys, studying her before reaching a hand up to her face, and gently wiping a tear rolling down her cheek with his thumb, his smiling appearing to be sympathetic. Daenerys knew better however and feared what came next. “Though it seems you don’t want to act like a princess, while you stand next to me, I’ll have nothing else. We will walk calmly through the halls and I will let you have that sweet relief you don’t deserve only because I am gracious.” Gripping her arm, he pulled her along in an infuriatingly slow pace through the majestic halls of the Magister’s manor. Daenerys knew she couldn’t last much longer, but with relief so close she forced herself to walk in a composed manner holding on with nothing more, but the remaining strength left in her labia which began to glisten with each miniscule leak. As they entered the hall leading to the chamber pots, Daenerys tried to quicken her pace, her resolve ending fast. But Viserys held firm. “Wait.” He wasn’t asking. It was a command. Her resolve crumpling, a spurt shot out of her urethra making her inner thighs glisten, thankfully missing her gown. “Please” she whispered to Viserys as another tear threatened to escape her eyes. “Well go on th-“ Viserys’ concession was cut off by “Your Majesty!” Illyrio was hustling down the hall. “The Dothraki have entered the city, we must meet them in the courtyard now!” With that, he bustled back the way he came. Viserys grip which had slackened considerably, tightened his grip and yanked Daenerys in the opposite direction. Daenerys no longer had the resolve to walk ‘like a lady’ and gripped herself once more. Upon entering the courtyard, they could hear the rumble of the Dothraki but not yet see them, so Viserys rounded on Daenerys making sure everything was perfect. With his hand he wiped away another stray tear and brought them down to the silk gown all the while whispering into her ear, “Shoulders straight, tits perked, and no. fucking. fidgeting.” His hand roamed down to caress her nipples making sure they were hard and noticeable. His hand eventually roamed down to her nether regions where he straightened out the scrunching in her gown causing him to ‘accidently’ apply pressure to her distended and distressed bladder. Daenerys whimpered once more. As the Khal and his entourage entered the courtyard, Illyrio started whimpering into Viserys ear, “Those three are Drogo’s bloodriders.” The bloodriders stare down on the three of them and Daenerys averts her gaze, fidgeting in the process. “And over there is the Khal himself.” Illyrio gestures at the rider sitting regally atop his stallion staring at them in indifference. Viserys noticed Daenerys fidgeting and grips her hand before she can bury it back in her womanhood, “You see how long his hair is? When Dothraki are defeated in combat, they cut off their braids in disgrace, so the world will know their shame. Khal Drogo has never been defeated. A savage, of course, but one of the finest killers alive. And you will be his queen… contingent on your cessation of fidgeting, you’re bringing me shame. Our house shame.” He seethed the last bit dangerously, squeezing her wrist so tight cutting off circulation. Daenerys once more on the verge of tears and near the end of her rope whimpers desperately, “I don’t want to be his queen,” squirming once more, “Please, please, I don’t want to. I want to go home.” She gasped the last bit as more urine escaped her exhausted body, causing a loud splatter to echo around the courtyard. Viserys maintains his mask of politeness and keeps his voice low, but there is unbridled fury in his eyes. “Home? How do we go home? They took it from us.” Still gripping her, nails digging into flesh, “How do we go home?” “I don’t know,” Daenerys whimpered in bodily exhaustion, a rivulet making its way down her leg. “I do. We go home with an army. With Khal Drogo’s army. I’d let the whole khalasar fuck you, all forty thousand men and their horses too, if that’s what it took.” Then glancing once more at his sister, driving her fate home, “I’d let them piss on you too, you worthless slut.” And the flood gates opened. Hot pent-up urine flooded down Daenerys’ legs making her sheer gown see through and sticky, a puddle forming large enough to make both Viserys and Illyrio to dance out of the way of. Exhausted, and with her arm finally released, she sank down to her knees still pissing all over herself. Glancing back up and hearing Viserys’ dismayed shout of, “Where are they going?!?” she noticed the Khal and his company has deserted the courtyard, thankfully for her, Illyrio reassured him that the Khal was pleased with what he saw. Skirting around the puddle Viserys spitefully remarked, “I guess that savage is used to his women pissing all over themselves. Disgusting beasts.” And strode back inside, leaving Daenerys alone in the courtyard, wet and shivering. Just a heads up, not all of this is going to be as dark and demeaning as this particular segment was, I was just trying to portray Vierys accurately. Also keep in mind Daenerys was pretty meek before she became a badass Khaleesi. The next part will be centered around Winterfell, when the King's Entourage arrive.
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