deadly is the tongue of the dragon, flames dwindling upon taste buds, as if they are like to spill forth and swallow the bastard who stands before her. if they are to rule together, they must stand together. that was the premise of an alliance. and yet, daenerys stormborn can scarcely stand her husband to be. narrowed eyes are as dark as shadows, lilacs glimmering against candleflame, so dark that they might be mistaken for amethysts. palms rest at here forefront, a regal stance befitting of a queen. one might mistake her stance for stoic, when truthfully, the reason she harbours such animosity is because she feels with every fibre of her being.
cold is her stare, a contrast to the fire that burns inside of her, though ramsay bolton cannot steady those flames. his malicious smile alone only stirs them. if she is to take all seven kingdoms, it must be with him by her side, begrudging as she may be. ❝ we must find common ground, my lord, if we are to be wed. as i am to be your queen, as well as your wife, i command that you tell me something about yourself. ❞
@librarywent.