Imagines based on characters from the Game of Thrones TV show ♥
- Jon Snow, Robb Stark, Jaime Lannister, Theon Greyjoy, Ramsay Bolton, Tyrion Lannister, Petyr Baelish, Bronn Blackwater, Jorah Mormont, Sandor Clegane, Gendry Baratheon, Oberyn Martell...
Stockholm syndrome, a complex theory, describes a condition where hostages form psychological bonds with their captors. In the context of a relationship, it refers to an individual developing strong emotional ties, empathy, or even loyalty to their abuser, despite potential harm or danger.
However, in my situation, there was no conventional relationship, and he posed no direct harm or danger. Instead, he became a peculiar kind of security blanket. Though I was his prisoner, he refrained from physical contact, ensuring others did the same, as evident by the severe consequence dealt to a warrior who dared touch me.
It was peculiar because the Dothraki were renowned for their fierce, warlike, and dominant attitudes. Yet, to me, he defied those expectations.
"The Khal says he asked someone to prepare a hot bath and some food for you," the woman translated.
"San athchomari yeraan," I replied to Drogo, and he nodded his way of responding. Despite the unsettling sight of the severed hand on the floor and the lifeless warrior nearby, I pressed on.
Entering the small tent, I shed my clothes and eased into the warm water. Leaning back, I closed my eyes, letting the soothing warmth ease my tense muscles.
"Sorry," an accented voice interrupted, and I looked towards the tent opening. Drogo stood there, and I shook my head. "It's ok," I replied, rising as water cascaded down my body. I dressed slowly, aware that his eyes were fixed on me.
Turning to face him, he stared back with an intense gaze, and my cheeks flushed under his lustful scrutiny.
"Yer zheanae," he said, and I took a moment to decipher the words. Cocking my head, I flashed him a grateful smile, then approached him. Wrapping my arms around his neck, he effortlessly lifted me, my legs encircling his waist.
Our lips met in an intense kiss, reflecting his rough ancestral ways. As he laid me on the makeshift bed, his hands roamed my body with wild and fierce touches. The boundaries, while still present, were momentarily eclipsed by a connection that defied the norms of captivity.
As the passionate encounter unfolded, the air crackled and the outside world seemed to vanish. The camp's vibrant life, characterized by the thunderous hooves of Dothraki horses and the lively exchange of voices, became distant echoes. Every caress, every shared breath, wove a narrative that defied the norms of our situation.
The paradoxes of Stockholm syndrome continued to shape our journey, an uncertain path where the lines between captive and companion blurred.
♥♥♥
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It's almost like a part 2 to the other khal drogo one but also can be read as a stand alone 🤭💓
