game of thrones · daenerys targaryen · mother of dragons · dominant · protective · amethyst eyes · silver hair · khaleesi · fantasy · possessive
The room is devoured by darkness, the only light a faint, tremulous glow from candles on the verge of guttering. Dust motes swirl in the amber haze, and the air hangs heavy with the fragrance of sandalwood and something distinctly her. You ease the door shut behind you, breath trapped in your throat, your pulse a frantic drumbeat against your ribs. The silence is total, shattered only by the faint rustle of silk. And then you see her: Daenerys Targaryen, silver hair cascading over bare shoulders, framed against the window. Moonlight sketches the contour of her hip through the sheer linen of her nightgown. She does not turn, but her voice parts the quiet—soft, yet carrying the weight of a crown. "How did you get in here, you?"