danaeryse

[danaeryse]

𝕴 𝖜𝖆𝖘 𝖇𝖔𝖗𝖓 𝖙𝖔 𝖗𝖚𝖑𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕾𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓 𝕶𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖉𝖔𝖒𝖘, 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝕴 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑.

[danaeryse]

Aemond Targaryen in House of the Dragon 2.01

Daenerys Targaryen in Game of Thrones 1.02

[danaeryse]

𝕿𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖌𝖍 𝖘𝖍𝖊 𝖜𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖉 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖘𝖍𝖔𝖜 𝖎𝖙, 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖊𝖝𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖆𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝕿𝖆𝖗𝖌𝖆𝖗𝖞𝖊𝖓 𝖋𝖗𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖊𝖉 𝕯𝖆𝖊𝖓𝖊𝖗𝖞𝖘. Where did he come from, what were his ties, and would his very life challenge her claim to the throne? The very thing she had travelled across foreign lands for, freeing slaves and building armies in preparation for her journey across the narrow sea. And yet, despite it all, there was a comfort in knowing she wasn’t the only Targaryen left in the world. Her gaze was unwavering, violet eyes watching him as if he was something otherworldly. And maybe he was. Perhaps this was another trick of the imagination, similar to what she’d experienced in the House of the Undying. It was Rhaegal's strange behavior that made her question it, for dragons were clever creatures and she doubted he would so willingly lead her into a trap. At the very least, he would be able to sense something was amiss. It seemed impossible, but perhaps it was the blood of the dragon that he’d picked up on.

𝕾𝖍𝖊 𝖌𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖉 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖘𝖊𝖑𝖋 𝖆𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖗 𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖔𝖉 𝖙𝖔 𝖋𝖚𝖑𝖑 𝖍𝖊𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙, 𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖉 𝖙𝖎𝖑𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖚𝖕𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖉 𝖙𝖔 𝖘𝖙𝖚𝖉𝖞 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖋𝖆𝖈𝖊. There was a deep line extending from his forehead, over his eye and to his cheek. It was a nasty scar that Daenerys assumed to have once been a very painful and slow healing wound, but one that did nothing to diminish his beauty. In fact, the uniqueness of it may have even added to his appeal, not only in how he looked but through the types of questions that would arise from such a scar. What had he survived and was he a formidable opponent? Daenerys noted he had sharp features, a strong jawline and high cheekbones. An elegance complimenting his calm intensity and deep, liquid honey voice. Just as how Targaryen’s had always been described, his beauty was unrivalled.

𝕽𝖍𝖆𝖊𝖌𝖆𝖑 𝖘𝖍𝖔𝖜𝖊𝖉 𝖓𝖔 𝖘𝖎𝖌𝖓𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖚𝖘 𝖋𝖆𝖗. He remained by his mother, silently observing as the other Targaryen reached his hand out to bring it towards her. Just as she was curious about him, his actions would show that he was equally curious about her. In truth, Daenerys half expected this to turn into nothing more than a distant memory. One that would fade over time and leave her questioning if she ever truly experienced such a thing or if it she had simply dreamed something so vivid she could convince herself it was real. His fingertips, hesitating only briefly before brushing against her cheek, proved her wrong. Flesh against flesh, he was as human as she was. The blood of the dragon coursed through his veins, convincing her in this moment that it was fate that brought them together. It was no coincidence that she would come across caves long since sealed to find the only other Targaryen left. She was meant to find him.

𝕳𝖊𝖗 𝖒𝖚𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖊𝖘 𝖇𝖊𝖌𝖆𝖓 𝖙𝖔 𝖗𝖊𝖑𝖆𝖝 𝖇𝖊𝖓𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍 𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖙𝖔𝖚𝖈𝖍, 𝖆 𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖑𝖊𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖘 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖇𝖗𝖚𝖙𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖞 𝖔𝖋 𝖜𝖆𝖗 𝖘𝖍𝖊’𝖉 𝖇𝖊𝖊𝖓 𝖊𝖓𝖌𝖆𝖌𝖊𝖉 𝖎𝖓. ❝ Aemond Targaryen, ❞ Daenerys repeated after him, testing his name on her tongue. She only knew parts of the Targaryen history, most of her knowledge linked back to the stories her brother would share with her. She had heard of the Dance of Dragons, for Viserys always took great joy in talking about them. Even more than Aemond, it was the name of Vhagar that she recognized. ❝ My brother told me tales of the dragons and my ancestors, ❞ she spoke, and now it was her turn to reach out to delicately graze her fingers against the face of the man who stood before her. They traced below his scar, over smooth skin and down towards his chin, her eyebrows pulled together in fascination and contemplation. ❝ How is it possible? ❞ She would ask, her voice barely above a whisper. It was a question meant for neither of them, but for whatever force had brought Aemond Targaryen back to the land of the living all these years later.

𝕯𝖆𝖓𝖞 𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖔𝖜𝖊𝖉 𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖙𝖔 𝖋𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖋𝖆𝖈𝖊, 𝖆 𝖈𝖚𝖗𝖎𝖔𝖚𝖘 𝖗𝖆𝖎𝖘𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖉𝖆𝖗𝖐 𝖊𝖞𝖊𝖇𝖗𝖔𝖜𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖘𝖜𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝕬𝖊𝖒𝖔𝖓𝖉 𝖆𝖉𝖉𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖆𝖘 𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝕼𝖚𝖊𝖊𝖓. For now, she was pleased. To address her as such seemed to imply that he has no intentions of challenging her. Her gaze dipped down between them, however momentarily, before flicking back up to fall upon his face once more. A smile graced her lips, humor dancing across features that were lightly flushed pink. ❝ Until I can properly grant your request, this will have to suffice, ❞ she told him, slender fingers pulling at the ties that kept her cape on her shoulders. She allowed it to slide into her hands, which then situated the article of clothing around Aemond’s own broader shoulders. There was enough fabric for him to be able to hold it shut at the front, thus doing a decent job at covering him for now.

❝ 𝕴 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖍𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖈𝖑𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖉 𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖎𝖙𝖞 𝖔𝖋 𝕸𝖊𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖊𝖓. 𝖂𝖆𝖑𝖐 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖒𝖊, 𝕬𝖊𝖒𝖔𝖓𝖉 𝕿𝖆𝖗𝖌𝖆𝖗𝖞𝖊𝖓. ❞ Dany's smile remained as she stepped away from him, head nodding towards the tunnels to gesture for Aemond to follow beside her. She had so many questions for him. Too many for him to answer all at once, and some in which she was convinced he wouldn't have answers for. Perhaps there was some things only meant for the Gods to know. Regardless, if he chose to stay loyal to her, she hoped to learn all there was to know about him and his history. ❝ You seem to recall your family well. What else do you remember? ❞

Aemond's mind was a storm of fragmented memories and fractured thoughts. He could still feel the cold grip of the God's Eye pulling him into its depths, the weight of his armour dragging him down, and the sharp sting of battle fresh in his muscles. But that world was gone now, replaced by this strange new reality, where the warmth of a torch-lit cave greeted him, and the air was thick with the scent of salt and fire.

His eye, sharp and calculating, settled on the woman before him. Daenerys Stormborn, she had called herself. The name echoed in his mind, stirring something deep within him. She was a Targaryen, that much was clear, but her presence was more than that. She was like a figure drawn from the old Valyrian legends, a woman of fire and blood, standing tall and fierce with a dragon at her side.

He studied her in silence, taking in every detail of her Targaryen beauty. The silver of her hair caught the firelight, gleaming like molten silver, cascading down her shoulders in soft waves. Her violet eyes were sharp and intelligent, yet there was something deeper in them, something both ancient and youthful. Her skin was pale, smooth as marble, and she carried herself with a grace that spoke of both power and nobility. She was not a warrior in the way he had been, but there was a strength in her, a fire that matched the dragon at her back.

Her features were striking, reminding him of portraits he had seen of their ancestors, the dragonlords of Old Valyria. Yet, there was something uniquely hers about it all. She was both familiar and unknown, a reflection of his own bloodline, yet shaped by a different world, a different time.

For a moment, he found himself lost in that beauty. There was something mesmerizing about her, something that called to the very core of him. She was a reminder of what he had been, what he had fought for, the legacy of House Targaryen, the power of their blood, the unyielding spirit of their line. But she was also something new, something beyond the stories he had known.

As he watched her, a flicker of emotion crossed his usually guarded face. It wasn't just her appearance that drew him in, it was the way she stood, the way she looked at him with both caution and curiosity, the way she embodied everything their house had stood for. There was a fierce pride in her, but also a vulnerability that she kept hidden beneath the titles she wore like armour.

Aemond took a slow step forward, the weight of his gaze never leaving her. He could feel the warmth of the fire on his skin, the faint hum of magic in the air, but all of it seemed distant compared to the intensity of the moment. She was real, this was real, and yet, a part of him still struggled to believe it. He had been dead, lost in the abyss of the God's Eye, and now he was here, standing before another Targaryen who should not exist.

Slowly, cautiously, Aemond reached out, his hand trembling ever so slightly as it hovered just above her cheek. His fingers brushed against her skin, warm and soft beneath his touch. It was real, she was real. He cupped her face gently, his thumb tracing the curve of her cheekbone as if to confirm that she was not some figment of his imagination, some illusion conjured by the strange magic that had brought him back.

" Daenerys, " he murmured, the name carrying a weight that felt both ancient and new. " You are...like a vision from the past. A reminder of all that we are...and all that we could be. "

His eye held hers, searching for something, perhaps a recognition, perhaps an answer to the countless questions swirling in his mind. He could see the fire in her, the same fire that burned in him, the fire of their bloodline, of the dragons that had once ruled the skies.

" I am...Aemond, " he said, his voice steadying as he spoke his name. " Aemond Targaryen. Second son of King Viserys, rider of Vhagar...or at least, I once was. "

His hand lingered on her face for a moment longer before he let it fall back to his side. There was still so much he did not understand, why he had been brought back, why she was here, what this world had become in his absence. But for now, he was content to find his footing, to understand where he stood.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, a flash of his old self breaking through the confusion. " Tell me, my Queen, " he began, glancing down at his bare form with a hint of humour in his voice. " Might I trouble you for some clothes? It seems I've come back to life rather...underdressed. "

The tension in the cave seemed to ease, if only slightly, as Aemond sought to ground himself in this new reality.

[danaeryse]

𝕯𝖆𝖊𝖓𝖊𝖗𝖞𝖘 𝖐𝖓𝖊𝖜 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖜𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖍𝖆𝖉 𝖉𝖗𝖆𝖜𝖓 her restless dragon, Rhaegal, to the mouth of the cave. No matter how she tried to call him back to her, he would keep returning to the same spot, crying and calling out to her while circling overhead. Covered in overgrown vines and showing signs of neglect, it would have been many years ago that someone last ventured inside. By now, it was long forgotten by humans, blending easily in with the environment that surrounded it. The caves were wide and large inside, spacious enough that one of her dragons would be able to accompany her. Drogon was her largest and the one she rode, but it was Rhaegal who was leading her. She walked with a torch in hand, time lost on her, until she had reached what she assumed to be the source of Rhaegal's agitation.

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖙𝖚𝖓𝖓𝖊𝖑 𝖍𝖆𝖉 𝖔𝖕𝖊𝖓𝖊𝖉 𝖚𝖕 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖔 𝖆 𝖗𝖔𝖔𝖒: a dead end where torches on the walls were already lit and burning brightly, providing a gentle warmth in the otherwise cold caverns that never saw daylight. Her gaze was drawn to the middle of the clearing, for upon the ground lay a young man. Long silver hair, much like her own, draped over his bare shoulders, face concealed save for the sharpness of his jaw. He was only just coming into consciousness when she approached, circling him with slow footsteps while she observed him. Friend or foe? She could not know for certain, but those who chose to make an enemy out of her were met with a fiery end. Trust did not come easy when so many had tried to kill her.

𝕳𝖎𝖘 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖉 𝖑𝖎𝖋𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝖙𝖔 𝖒𝖊𝖊𝖙 𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖌𝖆𝖟𝖊, 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝕯𝖆𝖊𝖓𝖊𝖗𝖞𝖘' breath hitched in her throat, her movement halting and posture going rigid. It wasn't the fact that he had one eye--the other replaced by what she assumed to be a sapphire--that stunned her into silence, but the fact that his silver hair was accompanied by violet eyes. Another Targaryen. All this time, after the death of her brother, she had thought herself to be the last. If this was not a trick of magic, then who was he? There hadn't been so much of a whisper about another Targaryen, nothing that would have led her to believe that another one still walked this earth at the same time as her.

❝ 𝕴 𝖆𝖒 𝕯𝖆𝖊𝖓𝖊𝖗𝖞𝖘 𝕾𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖇𝖔𝖗𝖓 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕳𝖔𝖚𝖘𝖊 𝕿𝖆𝖗𝖌𝖆𝖗𝖞𝖊𝖓, ❞ Daenerys began to introduce herself, so effortlessly finding the authority and confidence she had claimed back for herself after the antics of her brother, the man responsible for making her feel so small and taking her voice from her. She'd gained a newfound respect from others and herself. Her gaze, both mesmerized and puzzled, never left his. He claimed to recognize her, but she was not sure that she recognized him. For that reason, she could not begin to understand when or where they would have intertwined. ❝ --The First of Her name, the Unburnt, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons.❞

𝕬 𝖑𝖔𝖜 𝖌𝖗𝖔𝖜𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝖇𝖊𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖉 𝖆𝖓𝖓𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖈𝖊𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖕𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖊 of Rhaegal, his head and chest emerging from the shadows as he came into the glow of the fire. Lest she gave the command, he would not attack. ❝ You are outside the city of Meereen, ❞ she informed him, uncertainty and compassion both tugging at her heart. He looked as lost as he sounded, and it was not so very long ago that she found herself feeling estranged too. A little girl who missed her house with the red door and the comfort it provided. No longer did she seek to reclaim the familiar house that she once called home, but what she was destined for. With fire and blood, she would reclaim the Iron Throne and take her rightful place as the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. ❝ To whom do I speak? ❞

Plotted Starter for @danaeryse.

The icy waters of the God's Eye swallowed him whole.

The weight of his armour dragged him down, pulling him deeper into the cold, unforgiving abyss. Aemond's lungs burned as he fought against the crushing depths, each movement slower than the last. Vhagar's mighty roar echoed above, but soon even that faded, replaced by the muffled silence of the lake's dark embrace.

He could feel the life slipping from him, the furious heat of battle extinguished by the freezing waters. His last thoughts were of fire and blood; his family's words, the legacy he had fought so hard to uphold, all slipping away beneath the surface. A bitter finality settled over him. This was how it would end, his legacy submerged and forgotten, the gods watching in silence.

And then...nothing.

Time lost meaning in the abyss. Aemond had no way of knowing how long he remained in that watery grave. Days, years, centuries; it all blurred together into a void where even memory could not reach. Yet something kept him tethered, a thread of ancient magic perhaps, holding both his body and soul in suspension, waiting for a moment when the world would call him back.

Light.

It was blinding at first, a searing contrast to the darkness that had held him captive. Aemond's senses returned slowly, each one dragging him back into a world he no longer recognized. The ground beneath him was solid, the warmth of a distant fire radiating through his chilled bones. He drew in a deep, ragged breath, the air foreign yet strangely familiar. His fingers curled instinctively against the earth, as if testing the reality of it.

Then, he saw her.

Silver hair, catching the flicker of flames, framed a face that stirred something deep within him. Aemond's single eye fixed on the woman standing before him, her presence both commanding and ethereal. She was Targaryen, that much was clear. But she was not of his time, nor of his memory.

Who is she? The thought gnawed at him as he struggled to rise, his body protesting with each movement. The battle at the God's Eye felt like a distant nightmare, and yet, it was the last thing he remembered before darkness took him.

" Where... " His voice was a rasp, barely more than a whisper as he forced the word out. " Where am I? "

He looked around, trying to make sense of the world around him. The air was thick with the scent of the sea and the warmth of fire. The landscape was unfamiliar, this was not the godswood of Harrenhal, nor any place he had known in life.

Then his gaze drew back to her and he could see the depth of her violet eyes, filled with both strength and something else. Compassion? Curiosity? It unsettled him. In her, he saw echoes of the past, of dragonlords long gone, yet there was something new, something that did not belong to his time.

" You, " he breathed, forcing himself to focus on her. " I've seen you somewhere before. " His brow furrowed, frustration welling up in him as the memories refused to surface clearly.

The words tasted foreign on his tongue. He had always been a man of certainty, of purpose, and now all of that felt stripped away. What had happened to him? Why had he been pulled back from the brink of death only to find himself in a world he no longer understood?

Yet even as confusion clouded his mind, a part of him stirred, the part that had always craved power, knowledge, and dominion. The fire in his blood had not been extinguished, only banked. And now, it burned anew, searching for answers in the eyes of the woman before him.

[danaeryse]

DAENERYS TARGARYEN in Game of Thrones 4.04

[danaeryse]

𝟏𝟎𝟎 𝑵𝑶𝑵𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑩𝑨𝑳 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺 .    (  a  collection  of  100  nonverbal  action  prompts .   mature  and  potentially  triggering  themes  are  present .   add  “ + reverse ”  to  swap  assigned  roles . )

∗ o1﹕ sender  tucks  hair  out  of  receiver’s  face . ∗ o2﹕ sender  offers  receiver  a  bite  from  their  fork . ∗ o3﹕ sender  places  their  feet / legs  in  receiver's  lap . ∗ o4﹕ sender  offers  receiver  an  earbud  to  share  their  music . ∗ o5﹕ sender  comforts  receiver  in  the  aftermath  of  a  nightmare . ∗ o6﹕ sender  gives  receiver  company  in  the  hospital . ∗ o7﹕ sender  wraps  their  arms  around  a  hysterical  receiver  to  calm  them . ∗ o8﹕ sender  shows  up  at  receiver’s  home  late  at  night . ∗ o9﹕ sender  falls  asleep  leaning  against  receiver . ∗ 1o﹕ sender  wields  a  [ gun / knife ]  at  receiver . ∗ 11﹕ sender  runs  their  fingers  through  receiver’s  hair . ∗ 12﹕ sender  invites  receiver  to  dance . ∗ 13﹕ sender  takes  a  [ picture / video ]  of  receiver . ∗ 14﹕ sender  places  their  head  in  receiver’s  lap . ∗ 15﹕ sender  and  receiver  make  eye  contact  across  a  busy  room . ∗ 16﹕ sender  pushes  receiver  against  a  wall  to  kiss  them . ∗ 17﹕ sender  and  receiver  cook  together . ∗ 18﹕ sender  comes  to  receiver  after  being  injured . ∗ 19﹕ sender  sits  in  receiver’s  lap . ∗ 2o﹕ sender  lifts  receiver's  chin ,  invoking  eye  contact . ∗ 21﹕ sender  overtakes  receiver  in  combat . ∗ 22﹕ sender  finds  receiver  [ injured / bloodied ] . ∗ 23﹕ sender  straightens  an  article  of  receiver’s  clothes . ∗ 24﹕ sender  crawls  into  bed  with  receiver . ∗ 25﹕ sender  rolls  their  eyes  at  receiver . ∗ 26﹕ sender  lights  receiver’s  [ cigarette / joint ] . ∗ 27﹕ sender  is  caught  wearing  receiver's  clothes . ∗ 28﹕ sender  strikes  receiver  with  a  pillow . ∗ 29﹕ sender  writes  a  note  on  receiver’s  skin :  [ note ] . ∗ 3o﹕ sender  wraps  a  blanket  around  receiver’s  shoulders . ∗ 31﹕ sender  runs  and  jumps  into  receiver’s  arms . ∗ 32﹕ sender  shoves  receiver  out  of  anger . ∗ 33﹕ sender  hovers  over  receiver’s  shoulder  as  they  complete  a  task . ∗ 34﹕ sender  is  found  by  receiver  somewhere  they  shouldn’t  be . ∗ 35﹕ sender  curls  up  against  receiver  in  their  sleep . ∗ 36﹕ sender  is  found  drunk  by  receiver . ∗ 37﹕ sender  throws  an  item  of  sentiment  bitterly  at  receiver . ∗ 38﹕ sender  joins  receiver  in  the  shower . ∗ 39﹕ sender  is  caught  following  receiver . ∗ 4o﹕ sender  traces  one  of  receiver’s  [ scars / bruises ] . ∗ 41﹕ sender  twines  their  fingers  with  receiver’s . ∗ 42﹕ sender  barges  into  receiver’s  home  unannounced . ∗ 43﹕ sender  kicks  receiver’s  shin  beneath  a  table . ∗ 44﹕ sender  aggressively  shoves  past  receiver . ∗ 45﹕ sender  kisses  receiver’s  [ forehead / cheek ] . ∗ 46﹕ sender  pulls  receiver  out  of  harm’s  way . ∗ 47﹕ sender  is  found  sobbing  by  receiver . ∗ 48﹕ sender  locks  receiver  out  of  their  room . ∗ 49﹕ sender  brings  receiver  [ coffee / tea ]  in  the  morning . ∗ 5o﹕ sender  rests  their  forehead  against  receiver’s . ∗ 51﹕ sender  plays  a  song  for  receiver  that  reminds  them  of  them :  [ song ] . ∗ 52﹕ sender  takes  a  [ punch / stab / bullet ]  meant  for  receiver . ∗ 53﹕ sender  buys  receiver  a  drink  at  a  bar . ∗ 54﹕ sender  needs  receiver’s  help  getting  in  the  bath . ∗ 55﹕ sender  and  receiver  cross  paths  in  the  kitchen  late  at  night . ∗ 56﹕ sender  twists  receiver’s  arm  behind  their  back . ∗ 57﹕ sender  winks  at  receiver . ∗ 58﹕ sender  is  found  collapsed  by  receiver . ∗ 59﹕ sender  prevents  an  injured  receiver  from  getting  up . ∗ 6o﹕ sender  claps  a  hand  over  receiver’s  mouth  to  silence  them . ∗ 61﹕ sender  cages  receiver  against  a  [ wall / the floor ]  with  their  arms . ∗ 62﹕ sender  storms  away  from  receiver  during  an  argument . ∗ 63﹕ sender  is  found  by  receiver  sleeping  in  receiver’s  bed . ∗ 64﹕ sender  [ applies / touches up ]  receiver’s  makeup . ∗ 65﹕ sender  throws  receiver  into  a  wall  during  combat . ∗ 66﹕ sender  dances  sensually  with  receiver . ∗ 67﹕ sender  strikes  receiver  across  the  face . ∗ 68﹕ sender  places  their  hand  on  receiver’s  leg  while  driving . ∗ 69﹕ sender  pulls  a  chair  out  from  under  receiver . ∗ 7o﹕ sender  catches  receiver’s  wrist  when  they  turn  to  leave . ∗ 71﹕ sender  leaves  an  intimate  mark  on  receiver . ∗ 72﹕ sender  beats  receiver  in  a  video  game . ∗ 73﹕ sender  and  receiver  stand  in  stunned  silence  after  a  fight . ∗ 74﹕ sender  cares  for  receiver  while  they’re  sick . ∗ 75﹕ sender  and  receiver  go  on  a  hike . ∗ 76﹕ sender  is  caught  snooping  in  receiver’s  things . ∗ 77﹕ sender  and  receiver  cuddle  while  watching  television . ∗ 78﹕ sender  throws  something  aggressively  at  receiver . ∗ 79﹕ sender  creeps  up  behind  receiver  to  scare  them . ∗ 8o﹕ sender  and  receiver  go  shopping  together . ∗ 81﹕ sender  helps  receiver  [ dye / style ]  their  hair . ∗ 82﹕ sender  draws  receiver  into  a  kiss  by  the  back  of  their  neck . ∗ 83﹕ sender  is  discovered  having  a  panic  attack  by  receiver . ∗ 84﹕ sender  accidentally  injures  receiver  during  sparring . ∗ 85﹕ sender  grabs  receiver  roughly  by  the  hair . ∗ 86﹕ sender  brings  receiver  to  their  knees  during  combat . ∗ 87﹕ sender  shows  receiver  evidence  of  a  lie  they  told . ∗ 88﹕ sender  winks  [ seductively / mockingly ]  at  receiver . ∗ 89﹕ sender  yells  at  receiver  to  put  their  hands  in  the  air . ∗ 9o﹕ sender  helps  receiver  patch  up  a  wound . ∗ 91﹕ sender  holds  receiver  as  they  cry . ∗ 92﹕ sender  silently  and  angrily  points  receiver  towards  the  door . ∗ 93﹕ sender  gestures  for  receiver  to  sit  down . ∗ 94﹕ sender  pulls  receiver  into  their  lap . ∗ 95﹕ sender  cradles  receiver’s  face . ∗ 96﹕ sender  tackles  receiver  out  of  the  way  of  danger . ∗ 97﹕ sender  has  hidden  an  injury  from  receiver ,  and  receiver  finds  out . ∗ 98﹕ sender  confronts  receiver  about  their  unhealthy  behavior . ∗ 99﹕ sender  proposes  to  receiver . ∗ 1oo﹕ sender  has  just  died ,  receiver  finds  out .

[danaeryse]

GAME OF THRONES Season 4, Episode 1 dir. D. B. Weiss

[danaeryse]

what did u say?! i can't hear u from up here!

[danaeryse]

gives dany a pretty little white rose. she deserves it! 🤍

𝕯𝖊𝖑𝖎𝖈𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖑𝖞, 𝕯𝖆𝖊𝖓𝖊𝖗𝖞𝖘 𝖍𝖔𝖑𝖉𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖒 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖞 𝖗𝖔𝖘𝖊 in one of her hands, her downcast gaze admiring the beautiful, milky white petals that were in full bloom. Not a single tear or rip to be seen. One finger traces ever so gently along the underside of one, soft and smooth against her fingertip. Her lips curve into a soft smile, and finally violet eyes are met with the gaze of the other.

❝ Should I know the cause? ❞ She asks, lowering the rose to hold it near her abdomen. Regardless of reason, she would gladly accept what was gifted to her and nurture it for as long as she could, until it wilted and returned to the earth. ❝ It's beautiful, as are you. ❞

[danaeryse]

𝕭𝖊𝖙𝖜𝖊𝖊𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖜𝖎𝖓𝖉 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖗𝖆𝖎𝖓 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖒𝖔𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝕯𝖗𝖔𝖌𝖔𝖓 while he attempted to combat the harsh weather, swerving this way and that and turning so sharply that she feared she might be flung off, Daenerys was struggling to hold on and stay atop her dragon. She had both hands on two separate spikes, clutching tightly to them even as the cold from the elements sapped the feeling from her fingers. Fear gripped at her, but beyond that, burning brighter and stronger, was determination. This would not be the end of her story. It was only just beginning.

Dany's thighs burned and ached in her efforts to keep herself secured, squeezing even as rough scales scraped against her flesh. Try as she did, one sharp movement had been enough to make the Targaryen lose her seating. She found herself falling to the left, her grasp on the spikes impossibly tight while her weight tugged her downwards. All that was keeping her from plummeting to her death was her own two arms and hands, her legs no longer straddling the great beast. She was hanging off of one side of him, trying desperately to pull herself back up.

❝ Paez ilagon! ❞ (Slow down.) Perhaps it was a command that was impossible to follow through with. She knew she could only ask so much of Drogon while the wind was fighting him on his every motion, pushing him and forcing him in directions he did not wish to go. It would have been easier if they had a clear direction of where to land, but even that was out of the question with the darkness and rain obscuring their view. If he could even make it close to a ledge, she could risk letting go and enduring the fall. Slowly but surely, her grasp was beginning to slip. The spikes that were against her palms were now at her fingers, and soon to be her fingertips.

─── 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖒 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖆𝖕𝖘𝖚𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖒 𝖜𝖆𝖘 dark and menacing, black clouds and heavy sheets of rain obscuring the clarity of the ground below and blanketing it in a thick veil of swirling shadow. The wind was fierce, and even despite the powerful drive behind Drogon’s musculature, it sapped his energy and forced him this way and that, bending him to the will of turbulent gales.

      Above the boisterous rumble of angry thunder, Drogon could just barely hear Dany’s voice, but he could feel it, her commands reaching somewhere inside of him and prompting him to head towards the ground. A powerful roar rumbled out from his open jaws as he obeyed, tired wings driving the weight of his body downwards into the black gloom below as the wind fought to push him in the opposite direction, threatening to send them both into a dangerous spiral.

      Obeying Dany’s commands was easy enough, but seeing them through to fulfillment was another, as the storm had made it nearly impossible to see anything other than what was a few feet in front of his snout. As Drogon descended, sharp rocks and the pointed slopes of steep cliffsides intruded upon his path, forcing the beast to swerve abruptly in various directions just to avoid colliding with them.

[danaeryse]

female awesome meme: [5/10] lead female characters

“I will do what queens do, I will rule.” Daenerys Targaryen (Game of Thrones)

[danaeryse]

@meraxest sent: “ I tried but failed. ” — rhaegal

𝕺𝖓 𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖐𝖓𝖊𝖊𝖘, 𝕯𝖆𝖊𝖓𝖊𝖗𝖞𝖘 𝖘𝖆𝖙 𝖇𝖊𝖘𝖎𝖉𝖊 𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖜𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖉 𝖉𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖔𝖓, a bolt pierced through the thick armor of scales. It made her uneasy to think of pulling it out and the bloodshed that would follow, but leaving it in wasn't an option either. It would only fester and add further complications down the line. Her eyebrows angled inward and tears stung at her eyes, distress so clearly painted across delicate features. Her heart physically ached at seeing her child so wounded, the cries of pain that had been ripped from his throat while he flew some distance to safety before plummeting.

❝ Shh, ❞ Dany hushed him gently, wishing desperately to take all of his pain and suffering. In her fury for what had been done to her child, she had gone straight for the ship responsible for taking aim at Rhaegal, Drogon's fire destroying it and all who were aboard. They had died screaming. Even those who sought to jump into the water to extinguish their flames hadn't stood a chance.

Daenerys pressed her hand flat against Rhaegal's neck, patting him gently in an effort to soothe him. ❝ Nyke jorrāelagon naejot nādīnagon ziry, Rhaegal. ❞ (I need to remove it, Rhaegal.) On the sandy beach, she stood and rose to full height, her eyes on the weapon that was embedded in Rhaegal's side. ❝ Lykiri. ❞ (Be calm.) A secure grip tightened around the bolt, knuckles whitening. She would need a firm hold to make the removal as quick and painless as possible. Then, chest rising and falling in a breath to prepare herself, she pulled with as much strength as she could muster up.

[danaeryse]

Gonna make / start on a carrd today

[danaeryse]

DAENERYS TARGARYEN ↳ game of thrones s07e03

[danaeryse]

@sunfyrcd sent: “ It was too much. ”

𝕿𝖔 𝖘𝖊𝖊 𝖆𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖋𝖑𝖞 𝖎𝖓 𝖔𝖓 𝖆 𝖉𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖔𝖓 had been an unexpected surprise. It was a magnificent creature whose scales looked like they were made out of gold with how they shone beneath the sun. Sunfyre, she'd learned his name was, and Aegon Targaryen, the second of his name, was his rider. A boy who had ran from his duty of being crowned King. Those who were across the narrow sea were people she sought to overtake if they decided they did not wish to bend the knee, and so trust was hard to give while knowing he had once been her biggest threat and knew the opposers so personally. For many, it was family was who they swore their loyalty to.

❝ Claim or no claim, not everyone is fit to rule, ❞ Daenerys commented, her gaze studying Aegon's youthful face carefully to watch for any detection of a lie or deceit. She would rather gain an ally through mutual respect than through threats and instilling fear, but to not be thorough with her questioning could be detrimental. She had to be certain that this young man wished to serve her and see her rule as the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. He would have to prove himself first. Thus far, he seemed honest by stating that he didn't wish to rule. That it was too much for him and he would rather bend the knee to someone else he saw fit. ❝ You come to me instead of rallying behind others across the sea who seek to sit upon the throne. Why? Do you approach me with the intent of swearing your allegiance? ❞

[danaeryse]

@dracaryse sent: 28. a weather-based starter (from drogon)

𝕯𝖆𝖊𝖓𝖊𝖗𝖞𝖘 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖉 𝖋𝖊𝖊𝖑 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖜𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖎𝖉𝖆𝖇𝖑𝖊. Warm winds turned to cold and harsh gusts whipping past her face, numbing her cheeks and flushing them a rosy red. She ducked her head in an attempt to shield herself from the oncoming elements, her upper body pressed closely against Drogon while her fist gripped tightly to one of his spikes. The dark skies that loomed above were accompanied by low and rumbling rolls of thunder, promising conditions that would be less than favorable to fly in.

It wouldn't be long before rain began to pour down and bright flashes of lightning pierced the sky, obstructing both hearing and eyesight alike. It mattered not that Daenerys trusted Drogon with her life. It wouldn't be up to him to save her if she was unable to hang on with numb fingers and wet hands and legs. After all, she had only just recently ridden him for the first time and had yet to find out what worked best. Without a saddle to aid her, she had only the strength in her legs, arms and hands to rely on. ❝ Naejot tegun, Drōgon! ❞ ( To land, Drogon! ) Daenerys called to her dragon over the howling wind, speaking as clearly and firmly as she could muster in her mother tongue. Once the storm had passed, or perhaps come the morning, they could resume their journey.

[danaeryse]

𝕴 𝖜𝖆𝖘 𝖇𝖔𝖗𝖓 𝖙𝖔 𝖗𝖚𝖑𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕾𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓 𝕶𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖉𝖔𝖒𝖘, 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝕴 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑.