After binge-watching seven seasons of Game of Thrones last spring, I had a lot of thoughts. Like, will Jon Snow (Kit Harington and his lover/aunt Daenerys (a.k.a. Khaleesi, played by Emilia Clarke ever realize they’re related? Will Cersei (Lena Headey) admit her haircut is hideous? And most important, is there anyone who can get Daenerys and Cersei to stop fighting like a coupla wine-drunk Housewives? Then it hit me: Of course there is. Her name is Cocoa Khaleesi, and she’s the dopest black queen this side of whitey-white Westeros. This is her (and my story.
One evening, after Jon Snow and Daenerys go to the bone zone, Jon wants to talk.
“Babe,” he whispers. “We have to acknowledge the fact that the White Walkers and their army of undead zombie freaks are coming.”
“I know,” she says sadly.
“You don’t trust Cersei,” Jon continues, “and she doesn’t trust you. But if you two don’t work together, all of this”—he gestures to the Seven Kingdoms—“is gone. Everything you’ve worked for: my coming back to life. Us. None of it will matter.”
She sighs. “I can do this without her. Don’t you trust me?”
“Of course I do,” he lies.
“Good,” she says and settles back onto her pillow.
Eventually Daenerys falls asleep. Jon steps out of bed and grabs a notebook that’s been tucked under a pillow. He flips through it and finds the ad he’s saved: “The best therapist in the Seven Kingdoms.” He smiles.
The camera cuts to Jon draped in a thick fur coat, standing on a boat as he crosses the sea. After many hours he arrives at a beach. He ties up his boat and surveys the massive mansion before him. It’s a stunning structure with ornate sculptures out front. Michael B. Jordan–looking men stand guard. Jon approaches.
“I’m looking for—”
Before he can finish, the men direct him inside.
It looks like a Solange music video, with gorgeous, unitard-clad black women everywhere. Jon knocks on a door and cracks it open to find a woman behind a regal desk inside.
“Come in!” a voice says dramatically. “I am Phoebe, House of Robinson, the best therapist in the Seven Kingdoms. You may call me Cocoa Khaleesi.”
“Cocoa Khaleesi, I need your help—” he begins.
“I’ve been expecting you. Your homeboy Ser Davos told me everything,” she says. “That dude really likes to gab. You should probably keep an eye on him. Anyway, I’ll do my best to help. Let’s go.”
The camera follows Jon and Cocoa Khaleesi as they return to the island of Dragonstone. After some finagling by Tyrion, Cersei and Daenerys agree to sit down with this mysterious newcomer for dinner, where a decadent spread lies before them. A servant piles a plate with food and places it in front of Cocoa Khaleesi.
“Is this seasoned?” she asks her hosts.
“I’m not sure what you mean,” Daenerys says.
“White nonsense,” Cocoa Khaleesi mumbles while pushing the plate away.
“Is there something you’d like to say?” Cersei asks. Her tone is hostile.
“SEASONING. Salt. Pepper. Heard of them?”
“Ah, I heard you were clever,” Cersei says. “Would be a shame if this Cocoa Khaleesi got turned into…No-Tongue Khaleesi.”
There is an awkward silence.
“Don’t worry. She always threatens to cut out someone’s tongue. So predictable,” Daenerys says to Cocoa Khaleesi. Then, without prompting, “I am Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen, the Unburnt, Mother of Dragons, Khaleesi to Drogo’s riders—”
“Girl, ain’t nobody trying to hear that no more,” Cocoa Khaleesi says.
Cersei laughs. “Thank you!”
“Calm down! I ain’t on your side either,” she says. “You’re just as bad. That haircut makes you look like a low-budget Tinkerbell from Hook.”
Cersei slowly stands. “I’m not sure where you’re from, but blatant disrespect is frowned upon here, especially in my presence.”
“Well, that certainly explains your face,” Daenerys says.
Fed up, Cocoa Khaleesi snaps. “ENOUGH of this incessant bickering! White Khaleesi, girl, you may not know it, but you’re smashing your nephew. That’s trifling as hell. And Cersei, you’ve been in love with your brother since puberty. You two have waaaay too much in common to be enemies.”
The two warring women stare at each other with intent, then put down their forks.
The camera cuts to Daenerys and Cersei, taking on a sea of zombies as a united front. Back at the mansion, Cocoa Khaleesi hangs up her crown and puts her feet up on her desk. A few of those Michael B. Jordan fellas enter holding champagne flutes.
PS: You can join Phoebe Robinson, Awkwafina, and more inspiring women for two days of community building and empowerment at Glamour’s annual Women of the Year Summit. Get tickets here!