starter   for   @nanlanmo​​    ♥

                    THE WILDLING GIRL HAD SECRETS,  and Daenerys Waters had a curious mind.  She watched with lilac eyes as the other picked up sticks and kindling used to keep the fires alive within Lord Stark’s hearths.  They were given his mercy,   as she had been,  as long as they served the castle during their stay.  Jessica,  she had heard her name whispered in the grounds along with the names of her wildling friends who joined her south of the wall.  Anything that lay south of the wall,  they called   ‘ the south. ’   Daenerys knew it drove the northmen mad,  but it made her inwardly grin.  

It was known that the wildlings were different sorts of people,  made of something tougher than the Westerosi.  Who would they run from?  She pulled her wools tighter to her frame before holding out her arms to Jessica,  “Let me help you carry these back inside.  I’m stronger than I look,  I promise.”

starter   for   @hiddensteel​    ♥

             THE EXCITEMENT WAS WRITTEN ALL OVER  Sansa’s face,  and Daenerys Waters could not help but share in her joy.  It was all Sansa had wanted and more, and to wed a prince !!!  She had no expectations that she would be allowed to go to King’s Landing at Sansa’s side  . . .  King Robert never looked to her or Viserys when he visited Winterfell,  and when he did,  she saw disgust cross his features and eyes that seemed to darken when they met hers.  But she did not need to be with her,  as long as she knew Sansa was happy in the south.  It would be too much of her to ask Lord Stark if she could go, too.

“What do southern ladies wear?”  She asked,  sprawled on Sansa’s bed as the other packed her trunk.  The furs were soft on her bare feet.  “Surely, you will need new silk dresses.  The wools we wear here will be too warm in King’s Landing.”

ship edit for @oraiososta​​  ||  robb stark & daenerys targaryen

           i dream of gods and monsters, and of the man who knew i was both.

             “They call me A FOREIGN INVADER,” Daenerys confided in Lexa, “but Westeros is my home. I was born here. If I do not belong here, I fear there is no where else in the world for me.”

starter for @graunblida​​      /      s.c. ♥

                   “MY DESTINY IS TO ELIMINATE TYRANNY in the Seven Kingdoms,” Daenerys started, her voice clear as she met Sansa’s Tully blue eyes. “The North is not ruled by tyrants, though. Your people are fiercely loyal, and I admire their love for you.” A PAUSE –– “When I take the Iron Throne, I will uphold northern independence. You have my word, Queen Sansa.”

starter for @hiddensteel​     /      s.c. ♥

           HOURS HAD PASSED, and the Meereenese still lined the Pyramid seeking an audience with Daenerys Targaryen. She shifted on her throne, folding her legs underneath her in hopes to bring relief to her aching rear. “Thank you for coming to see me,” A POLISHED SPEECH. “I know you have waited long enough, so pray tell, how can I help?”

starter for @malbcrtha​     /      s.c. ♥

          “No,” Daenerys said, her voice NEARLY COOING towards the hatchling –– a hand raised blocking the dragon’s path to a lamb trimming held in the other. A moment passed before she dropped her hand again –––– “IPRADAGON.” 

starter for  @drakaarys​​​     /      s.c. ♥

           “Viserion,” the mother hummed as the dragon head butted her back. THE SUN HAD NOT YET RISEN –– Daenerys knew the day ahead would be long. They still had at least another two days riding before arriving to Meereen, as Ser Jorah estimated. She turned towards Viserion, a hand resting against her head as her eyes close again, “Sleep, my baby.”

starter for @perzyr​     /      s.c. ♥

            “YOUR GRACE,”  Daenerys began, her head bowing before meeting green eyes with a familiar smile, “You have always been so generous to me, and to my brother, that I feel asking anymore of you is asking too much.” Silence passed between them before she continued, “Will you help me to start a garden? I want to plant trees, and I want to see them grow.”

starter for  @lwiamatka​​     /      s.c. ♥

        THE RETURNING TRIP TO WESTEROS WAS LONG, wind causing their dragon sails to take flight. On deck, Daenerys turned to her mother, hope swelling in her chest. “Did you think you would ever return to Dragonstone, mother? Truly?”

starter for @gevivella​     /      s.c. ♥

tag dump

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒.   rules: bold what always applies. italicize what sometimes applies. repost, don’t reblog

✹ summer ✹ — cold drinks after a long day, hiking in the woods just outside the city, swimming in a lake, spontaneous picnics, the warmth of the sun making you drowsy, the buzz of insects flying by, blooming wildflowers, the scent of bark and leaves, snapping twigs in half, a blade of grass between your teeth, light sunburn on the tip of your nose, barking dogs, rosy cheeks, children laughing in the distance, sunflowers reaching for the sun, fresh ice tea, resting your head on someone’s lap, warm yellow, the sound of waves crashing.

☁ autumn ☁ — cool breezes that feel just right, piles of leaves, rust red, oversized sweaters, knitted blankets, pumpkin spice, the scent of freshly baked goods, open windows letting the fresh air in, cold cheeks and hands, rain boots, carving pumpkins, soft scarves, a comforting embrace from an old friend, the scent right before a storm, wild mushrooms, ripening berries, a cup of hot tea, purring cats, blueberry muffins, braided hair, wearing your partner’s shirts, an alarm pulling you from slumber, burning candles.

❅ winter ❅ — the crackling of a fireplace, hot chocolate with marshmallows, the smell of fresh cookies, fuzzy socks, beanies pulled over your ears, a strong pot of coffee, dark clouds gathering on the horizon, the sound of wind shaking the house, melting ice, snowflakes in your hair, melancholy afternoons, curling up with a book while the world stands still, cough drops on the nightstand, excitedly giving gifts, long coats with deep pockets, pale blues, flour on the tip of your nose, warm soup, stubble turning into a beard, the scent of leather.

❀ spring ❀ — the smell after it rains, waking to the sound of birds singing, the crack of thunder, soft pinks, energy drinks or protein shakes, the scent of fabric softener, tidying up, the sweet taste of fresh fruit, competitive spark in eyes, sand beneath your feet, sweat on your brow, catching your breath after running, light green, frosted cupcakes, electricity in the air, forbidden kisses, the sharp hunger after a work out, daring romances, high ponytails, unexpected storms, picking flowers, running barefoot in the grass, iced coffee.

tagged by: @hiddensteel​ tagging: any mutual !!! steal it from me <3

closed starter for @oathworn​​

                TENSIONS RAN HIGH THROUGHOUT WINTERFELL as men and women alike prepared for nightfall, when the dead would arrive outside their walls. There was a noticeable charge in the chilled air,  Daenerys thought,  as if one spark would set the world aflame. In her dreams, it happened just so –– the Night King evaporated amidst a rain of dragonfire, his army of wights falling to frozen grounds before she woke.  If only they could be so lucky . . .  Daenerys held the white wolf pommel of Jon’s sharpened sword in hand as she wove through the halls of the castle, glancing through open doors until finding him alone in his quarters. Hesitantly, knuckles rapped against the door –– “I trust I’m not interrupting,” she spoke, the Valyrian blade feeling somehow heavier as she offered the sheath to him, “The armory finished with your sword. I hope you don’t mind that I picked it up for you.”

How many battles had Jon fought with only his sword for protection?  How many victories had he won before she knew and loved him –––– and would he find the same victory tonight? Her footsteps against stone floors seemed loud in her ears as she moved towards the hearth, the fire jumping up from dry wood as if to greet her.  Would his sword be enough in the Great War to bring another victory  . . .  a victory in which he returned to her side at dawn’s light? A breath escaped her lips as she turned to face Jon again, unnerved. “You may think this odd,” she began, her fingertips brushing dark strands from his cheeks, “but I will drive myself mad if I have nothing to do today  . . .  let me comb your hair,”  A PAUSE,  her brow creased with worry, “please.”