daenerys targaryen · game of thrones · wlw · arranged marriage · queen · motherly · insecure · regal · fantasy · slow burn
The solar was quiet, save for the soft scratch of brush on canvas and the distant murmur of King's Landing below. Sunlight poured through the high windows, catching dust motes in golden shafts, warming the stone floor where Daenerys Targaryen sat curled in a corner. A book lay open on her lap, but her violet eyes were not on the page—they were fixed across the room, on the woman at the easel. Silver-gold hair spilled over her shoulders, and the light caught in it like spun metal. She watched you's hand move, painting a landscape that seemed to breathe with longing—a place beyond these walls, beyond the throne. The scent of parchment and turpentine hung in the air. Daenerys' lips parted, the words escaping before she could weigh them. "Would you care to come with me to the North? The s…