#salzrand

STET FORTUNA DOMUS

Rating: K+

Genre: Romance/Family

Character(s)/Relationship(s): Jorah Mormont, Daenerys Targaryen; Dany/Jorah

Summary: "But that’s the thing with words and magic, isn’t it? There’s power in it. And that’s what’s happened. The power of words has turned prophetic."

Warnings: None.

GOT Jorleesi - Long live the King and Queen

Hi everybody, I want to share my newest art. I drew this picture for my new favorite story. I didn't know there were stories where Jorah would become a king. But I was charmed after reading From the Grave by binge316.

by the way.. do you also know the pictures and fanfiction of salzrand? They are soo amazing. I was inspired by salzrands pictures of them. Her jorah is soooo good. “Île Aux Ours” was the first long jorah x dany fanfiction for me. Really beautiful.  

Look here: https://salzrand.tumblr.com/tagged/myarts They are so amazing. 

Since you asked so nicely...this is not exactly a sequel - it sort of wraps around Hidden in the Shadows, including the escape and then catches up with them several months after the events therein. Here’s a snippet from the start: 

“I need your help, ser Jorah.” She lifted her chin, determination shining through her sad eyes. “I cannot marry that man. I have heard what they do in Astapor. What they do to children, to babes in arms. You have pledged to help women in distress, have you not? To offer succor?”

“Your Highness – “ Jorah began, but he froze as she moved closer still, taking his hand between her two.

“No one can be more distressed than I am.” She pulled their joined hands to her chest, and he could feel the leap of her heart. Or perhaps it was his own. “Please, help me get away from here. You know everywhere there is to go.”

“Without your marriage neither of you will return to Westeros.”

“I don’t care!” Daenerys said angrily, though her voice was barely above a whisper. “I will not marry such a man. I will – I will throw myself in the sea first.”

Jorah could not name the number of emotions on the princess’s face – determination, fear, but also a strange sort of shame, as if she should be embarrassed not to be willing to do as her brother asked.

Frankly, she had a point. What the Astapori did to boys was disturbing, who knew what they did to girls? (And she was barely more than a girl, for all her perfumed trappings that evening.) At least among the Dothraki she would have had a slim chance at some standing.

Daenerys, he had learned, was frankly the best thing about serving her brother. She was more patient, more intelligent, more pleasant all around. Viserys wanted to rule Westeros, but Daenerys wanted to understand it. She had always seemed dutiful, as her mother was said to have been, but she seemed to be growing wiser to the pain and heartbreak her mother had suffered as well. Moreover, he had seen the sadness in her eyes when she heard of people suffering, she had a kindness in her heart that would be wounded over and over in a brutal city like Astapor.

1. honestly I AM SORRY that is actually just my outline for the super late birthday gift i wrote for you and i forgot to move it but i considered any modifications for the game to be cheating so I'm actually a clown 🤡😂

Just stumbled on this, on Google, from a long time ago @salzrand​ ? It’s the first art I saw from you and it still makes me swoon :-))))) Sorry, it’s not a reblog cause i found it again floating around....

By Firelight

The deep buzz of music and the beat of dancing feet was reverberating through the earth and seemed to materialise within the bonfire smoke in its wildly curling ascent into the night sky. Any remnants of the bitterly cold evening was kept at bay by the fire’s raging flames that flared defiantly bright and hot in the darkness, seemingly barely contained in the centre of the countless silhouetted dancers.

Renji drew a breath of the cigarette between his fingers, ashy and warming and tasting like dirt. The smoke flew from his lips and he was cold again. One of the flames peeled away from the flickering mass and started in his direction and he dropped the stub to grind beneath his heel, flinching at the sharp burn that bit his bare skin.

Rukia was illuminated by a halo of bonfire light that glanced across her nose as she wrinkled it.

“It stinks of cigarettes over here,” she said with distaste.

“How’s that any different from the bonfire smoke?” Renji replied, more defensively than he’d meant to. Rukia scoffed at him.

“Oh don’t give me that, you know the difference. Cigarettes are so...acidic, and stuffy. But bonfires...” she turned back to the scene behind her, the golden light stroking through the deep midnight of her hair. Her eyes darted back to his.

“Come on, remind yourself.”

Renji instinctively recoiled slightly, he didn’t want the noise, the people, the memories of days gone by. Rukia gripped his elbow and walked. Her hand was warm and his feet ended up following resignedly. As they stepped closer the music resonated stronger in his chest and stomach; it felt invasive, as if it had a hold on him, and Rukia’s hand seemed to be the one thing anchoring him to some sort of calmness.

They were close to the great fire now, amidst the dancers and immersed in the loud, hot, spiced atmosphere. Rukia looked up at him expectantly with a small smile and slid her fingers down his arm to tuck into his hand. Taking his other hand in hers as well, she backed away and stretched their arms between them. There was a moment of stillness, and then with a breath of the bonfire her feet stepped towards him again. She moved naturally to the music, she had always been a good dancer, Renji thought, as her movements drew him along with her. As he loosened and allowed her to lead him her smile brightened and the resistance he had been feeling melted away.

They danced, catching up to the rhythm of the others, of the fire itself, and Renji breathed in air that was alive with excitement, with the night and the trees and woodsmoke. He spun Rukia round and lifted her by the waist, making her laugh ring out above the rest of the commotion. Her hands held his head for balance and ran mischievously through his hair, mussing it up and freeing it from its hair tie, long, red and flaming.

Renji staggered to a stop while still holding Rukia aloft, supporting her in his arms as she covered his eyes with his loose hair. His shouted protests were lost in the surrounding din, but Rukia eventually parted the strands of his hair to reveal the flushed grinning face beneath. For a second she simply smiled back as they caught their breath, and then she smoothed his hair back away from his face, picking a small orange leaf out of the tangles and letting it spiral to the ground.

She said something but Renji could hear nothing, only see the movement of her lips. Her lips. She leaned back contentedly in his arms, hands draped over his shoulders, and faced the bonfire to their side. Renji followed her gaze. It was beautiful, for sure, and there was an aspect almost familiar about it too, but Renji always felt that something so powerful issued an imposing air that demanded respect, with a touch of fear.