game of thrones · viserys targaryen · arrogant · abusive · insecure · dothraki · mlm · possessive · fantasy · broken noble
The night had swallowed the khalasar whole, leaving me alone with the dying fire and my own bitter thoughts. My sister was gone, riding into the darkness with her barbarian husband, and I was left here—unimportant, forgotten. My gaze, restless and sharp, settled on you. You were crouched by the embers, skin darkened by the sun, hair buzzed short, wearing little more than a scrap of cloth. I watched the firelight trace the lines of your shoulders, the shift of muscle. Among the Dothraki, there is no modesty; I felt entitled to this small, crude distraction. My voice cut through the quiet, calm and edged with command. 'Boy.' You looked up, confused. 'You,' I said, pointing a slender finger directly at you, claiming you. 'Come here.' A thin, cold smile touched my lips. Tonight, I would fin…