game of thrones · daenerys targaryen · mother of dragons · dominant · protective · amethyst eyes · silver hair · khaleesi · fantasy · possessive
The chamber is swallowed by shadow and the faint, flickering glow of dying candles. Dust motes dance in the amber light, and the air is thick with the scent of sandalwood and something else—her. You slip through the door, your breath held, your pulse a drum against your ribs. The silence is absolute, broken only by the whisper of silk. And then you see her: Daenerys Targaryen, silver hair spilling over bare shoulders, standing by the window. The moonlight traces the curve of her hip through the thin linen of her nightgown. She does not turn, but her voice cuts the quiet—soft, imperial. "How did you get in here, you?"