Silver [Daenerys Targaryen Imagines]

Love Is Easy

Words : 1.1k+

Summary : In a world of a Targaryen, nothing but love was easy. Sometimes, even that was hard, too.

Warning (s) : mentions of violence.. this doesn't make sense??

req by anon <3

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Her dress was slightly askew, hair disheveled and lips red and plump; there was little to no resistance as you dived in again, taking in the taste of her and drowning in the plethora of colours that erupted behind your eyelids before the knocks on the door became noisy enough to be of reason to let you breathe.

"You might need to answer that." Your voice came out breathy, chest rising up and down rapidly, desperately catching air in your lungs as she, too, recovered from the heat rising in her cheeks. Daenerys paid your words no mind, however, as her arms wrapped tighter around your waist and her face found your neck to hide in, showering the exposed skin in featherlight kisses.

The rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, melting in your embrace, putty in your hands - it was something you never thought would be a sight you'd get to witness; at least, not because of you.

"Leave it be." Daenerys mused, her mind somewhere it shouldn't be.

"It could be of urgency." Patience was not her greatest virtue, so it took only three boisterous knocks for Daenerys to groan and unlatch herself from your arms with great despair. Your hands reached out before she could move far, fixing her collar and smoothing out her hair, fingers brushing against her forehead to loosen the frown between her brows - she was ethereal; the real embodiment of Targaryen beauty, violet eyes, defined jawlines and silver locks flowing down her shoulders, braided in the ways of Dothraki and waived in honor of her warrior ancestors.

It was not befitting for her to hold a lover by her side in these times, yet she did so around her closest courts without much a care for their sneers and the claim of dishonor she was bringing to her name. Daenerys was no easy woman - she was a Targaryen, blood of Valyrian and widow of a Khal, mother of dragons and so many more - the silver-haired Queen would not take just anyone as her hand and beau, if you could call it that.

"Go easy on them, will you?" She didn't nod, but her lips pressing into a thin line suggested she would consider it, if only for your honor. She would have to take more time to mend her appearance before facing the court, and who was Daenerys, if she didn't take a chance when she saw it?

Capturing your lips once more, the Khaleesi sighed when you pulled away again, this time letting you slip away from her grip and climb over her windowsill - the edge of her lips turned down, the sight never settling right in her chest. To treat you as a secret, to show her lack of interest in public, to false her indifference upon your presence.

Even Daario Naharis would watch her retreat with heavy heart, despite never approving of her 'fling', the use of word often caused a fire brewing inside her that Daenerys swore she could breathe flames as scorching as her dragons.

"Send my greetings to Missandei!" With a wink, you disappeared from her view and away to your quarters, possibly to assemble a presentable attire to stand by her side - Daenerys shook her head at your antics, wondering if you were to wear white to match her gown. Best not, she thought, for it would insinuate something, surely, would it not?

The lopsided grin Missandei spared her was enough to turn her cheeks into a dark shade of pink, the translator's brown eyes straying to the opened balcony and her unmade hair.

"Had fun, Your Grace?"

Daenerys grunted, wishing you were here to bear the humiliation with her.

↭

You weren't there. The crowd was deranged, bellowing like crazy from the stands, as if watching people stab each other to death was of the best entertainment they could get in their lives - Daenerys wished this could be avoided, but she'd learned young, too early to become versed in the grim ways of life.

To her left, sat her supposed betrothed, the man with little brain and much arrogance in his strides. If all goes well, she would have herself married by the end of the month and her place in Mereen would be secured, as secure as one could be in the middle of riot - she hadn't trusted the man that claimed to have had authority; she had more than him, and if the Gods were good, he would die soon.

Someone would scold her for thinking such a thought, yet there wasn't anyone, was there?

Daenerys didn't heed the words spewing out of his mouth, only the face of the fighters filling her field of vision and blocking any other sights - until you scurried in, taking a stance by Daario and meeting her eyes briefly. She didn't fight the smile that stretched her cheeks and crinkled her eyes - you responded with a small grin and a bow of your head, averting your eyes to the fighting range.

You remembered distinctly the rules of the match explained in hushed whispers, catching the stare Daario was shooting your clothing that oddly matched the Queen's - he didn't comment on it. Smart decision, boy.

The first battles were nothing short of boring. There was a tension building in Daenerys' shoulders from the casual beheading, spears penetrating flesh and blood spurting onto the ground - the violence had always been a constant, but it didn't mean she was anywhere near comfortable with it.

When Jorah the Andals appeared on the arena, you knew there would be no outcome where you'd return to your chambers peacefully tonight. Daenerys cared for him more than she'd admit - the man had confessed his love for her the same day he was caught to have betrayed her from the beginning; understandably, you'd felt more resentment than sympathy for him.

"He'll be fine." You'd kneeled by her side, ignoring the glare he - Loraq, you believed his name was, sent with extreme fury it was starting to look hilarious on his face. Daenerys was too focused on the fact that Jorah was losing to notice the stare-off happening on her back, but her hands squeezed your own in a death grip, her previous attempt to calm down abandoned as she exhaled a little easier with your hold.

You only hoped the little gesture went unnoticed.

No one knows. Does everyone know?

They did. Their eyes followed their Queen, the other figure on her right that seemed to have taken a residence in her heart - they knew, and it was the first thing they targeted when they stroke.

Jorah had won his battle - and when his spear was impaled on a masked assailant just aiming for you, all hell broke loose.

Chaos was lurking just over your shoulder, and it erupted with a glazing shine of a knife intended for your lives.