Silver [Daenerys Targaryen Imagines]

Fallen Too Deep

Daenerys Targaryen x Winged!Reader

Words : 3.5k+ (I don't think this counts as drabble-)

Summary : They called you demon, and how could the Dragon Queen love a demon? But perhaps, Daenerys was one, too. She didn't mind.

Warning (s) : Injuries, self-hate?? angst if u squint. (her) pronoun used. my shitty ass writing I hope u understand this piece of mind.

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Having dragons around had been only a myth for centuries. The Northerners already had a hard time wrapping their heads around the fact that they existed now, in their home. The tales of a dragon Queen that made appearances in children's stories a week ago, now walking the same earth as them.

That might've been a little exaggerated - but what laid before their eyes were true and against everything they'd believed, so they did not love the dragon Queen.

Despite the fact that she was lending them help, Daenerys had received nothing but hostile glares and hateful whispers they didn't think she could hear, and the only thing keeping her feet planted on the frozen soil was your grounding presence by her side.

Their eyes snapped to the sky when her children flew past, roars and screeches filling her ears and warmth spreading through her body, the raging winter casted to the back of her mind as she forgot about the dangers lurking beyond the wall, if only for a moment.

Winterfell was the first line of defense, and Daenerys Targaryen would stand as Queen while they raged war. That is, if they don't fuck up this alliance she was trying to build.

Amidst the crowd's gaping and amazement, Daenerys found your longing stare at the sky, recalling the way you'd whined and begged her to travel with the dragons. She'd almost relented - almost, and though you were understanding of the comfort you brought her in a foreign city, it didn't stop you from yearning for the freedom, away from judging stares from the people.

You tried to ignore their suspecting glance on your back - a pair of black and white wings folded neatly to your skin, wary of their hostility as you tried to retreat, as if trying to hide them. Daenerys was one step away from calling back her army and turning away from Winterfell, had it not for the brush of your extended wing over her head, tickling her cheeks as they acted as a cover from the falling snow, she would've done just that.

Fingers pointed at you without shame and murmurs tickled your ears, sending the tip of it a shade darker as you averted your eyes to the ground; 'Look at her! Demon! The Dragon Queen brought a demon to us!'

Jon Snow had been an enigma, an earthquake causing you to lose your footing on a steady ground by stepping foot into dangerous territory where he knew he could be toast in the next second - he was nice, perhaps could use a little wisdom, but nice didn't make him survive this long, and as a King, at that.

So you'd followed him. No, you'd followed Daenerys, who'd decided to follow him to the North, where you were 97% sure would be the place of your doom.

The Starks were.. lovely. Sansa had the most fiery red hair you'd ever seen, the bluest eyes that rivaled the color of the sky, and a smile that never quite reached her eyes. Brandon was strange, his eyes as empty as it was filled with knowledge beyond his years. Arya Stark was a force to be reckoned with, despite her small frame, she was exceptional in combat; In no time at all, she'd became someone you adored, a sister you never got the chance to have.

Attempting to ignore the gaping hole inside your heart as Daenerys drifted further each day, you'd gravitated towards them - complete strangers, friends, perhaps. But they made much better company than your loved ones, nowadays.