And so she raged
"You are my queen. Now and always."
As she kissed him, Daenerys felt a sharp pain surge to her chest, and woke up with a gasp and a horrified look on her face in her quarters on Dragonstone.
Slowly sifting through the headache she was nursing, she tried to piece together what happened.
She and her armies landed on Dragonstone a few hours ago. She went to bed after her first discussion with Varys, that snake, and tried to fall asleep.
There was so much to do. Greet the smallfolk still on Dragonstone, assuage their fear of the Mad King's daughter and her army of savages and eunuchs. Have her people situated on the island. Prepare for the arrival of her allies. Prepare for war.
After an hour of tossing and turning thinking of everything she had to do, she managed to fall asleep. And so she dreamed. And so she saw.
After taking the time to take it all in, she knew instinctively that what she was shown in her dream was the truth. It was eerie how it appeared to her as a universal truth that none could displace. There was no doubt in her mind. And so she raged.
She curses Varys, who sought, at the first sign of a malleable ruler who he could lead by the nose, to assassinate her and disparage her rule, sending word of Jon Snow's meagre claim to the throne to all lords who'd listen.
She curses Sansa and the northern Lords, who never trusted her, never treated her as more than a foreign whore even though her armies bled on the frontline for their war, for foreigners.
All those distrustful looks, even when the Night King was dead, not a word from the Northern Lords for the sacrifice her people made, not a Dothraki or an Unsullied admitted to the victory feast.
She curses Jon Snow, whom she loved, a part of her always will; who never defended her from his vassals.
She had opened her heart to him but he never fully reciprocated. She knew she was hard to love.
She knew she demanded devotion from those who loved her. But she had introduced him to her dragons. She sacrificed one of her children to save him and he never thought that she should meet Ghost or Arya, his favourite sister.
Jon Snow had always put his so-called duty before her, he spread lies about her demanding independence before sending help to save face.
After he learned the truth about his parents, she begged him to love her still, but he broke her heart. She begged him to keep this quiet, but he spoke and a sennight later every lord deserving the title knew the truth and Varys was sending her poisoned meals.
She curses Tyrion, for believing himself to be so clever, and yet falling for every trap his sister had laid for them, out of incompetence or out of hope to see his family survive she couldn't be sure.
She curses him for looking so horrified at her attack on the Goldroad; he had burned soldiers alive on the Blackwater to keep his horrible nephew on the Iron Throne, to keep his position as his Hand, even though he could have escaped with his family to Castelry Rock and weathered the war there but he was aghast at her burning alive the troops who put the entirety of Highgarden, men, women and children, to the sword.
What was she supposed to do to Randyll Tarly? The man who sacked his Liege Lord ancestral home? Give him a stern talking to? Even offering mercy after bending the knee wouldn't really have been justice but the Tyrells were gone, as were Dorne and the Greyjoys and she had needed allies.
But still, Lord Tarly refused to bend the knee and even refused to go to the Wall. She'd admit, she never felt so bad as when she announced to Samwell Tarly, the man who against all odds had managed to see her Old Bear return to her, that she had burned his father and brother alive but what was she expected to do?
She curses herself, for snuffing out her instincts to listen to the advice of Varys and Tyrion.
They had wanted a strong ruler for the throne, but one who would listen to their every word. All the atrocities they commited was in the name of the greater good, but in the middle of a war any military action that wasn't ratified by their wise counsel would be the barbaric action of the Mad King's daughter.
She listened to them time and time again. It cost her the Tyrells, it cost her her fleet and with that the Sand Snakes and the Greyjoys. It cost her her sweet Missandei, her sister in all but name. The one who after years of abuse, had seen the vision she had for the world and chose to be by her side, always. It cost her Rhaegal, her sweet boy shot down by Euron Greyjoy.
She curses herself for making them right at the end.
She attacked King's Landing with the northern forces making up the losses her army had suffered in the Great War. And the city fell in a matter of minutes.
It made her rage how easy it was.
20 minutes. She had burned the Golden Company, burned the Iron Fleet, burned the Gate of the city allowing her soldiers to enter and minutes later they rang the bells. It had been so easy.
It would have been that easy, that painless for the civilians had she done it the minute she reached Westeros.
After all that? After losing her children, her sister, her armies? She was just given the city? They expected her to stop attacking? To accept that the giant chasm that formed at her heart's place was for naught? She wouldn't. She couldn't.
And so she kept going. She kept going and she burned them. She hated herself for that. Hated that no matter what had happened, she was capable of that. Her heart steadied and her rage turned slowly to dread and she hated herself.
She kept breathing heavily, the castle around her ignorant of what she had seen, what she had done.
Never. She swore herself at that moment that no matter what she would decide to do, she wouldn't be their monster. She would never forget what she saw. She'd be ruthless to her enemies but not to those she had come to help.
She hated and she loved Jon Snow and her heart couldn't help but break when she remembered their conversation in the Red Keep:
"Children! Little Children! Burned!"
As her breath became steadier she finally noticed the arms enveloping her. Missandei must have come to greet her and found her in a fuming state.
"Daenerys. My Queen. What is it? How can I help?" She said, tears starting to form at the edge of her eyes.
And so Daenerys spoke. Spoke of her dream. Spoke of the unimaginably painful things she'd seen, she'd felt and she'd done.
SUY NGHĨ CỦA NGƯỜI SÁNG TẠO 
RubyEyedSkull
RubyEyedSkull Here we are, watch me try and give Daenerys a proper ending while retconning the stupid things she did in Season 8 without butchering her character.
This is the first story I publish and technically the first story I write that isn't 12k words of ideas and plot bunnies weirdly sewn together.
It is somewhat inspired of the few stories that I could find that had the same ideas.
Have some idea about my story? Comment it and let me know.
English isn't my first language so if you see any grammatical mistake please let me know
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