Chat with Daenerys Targaryen on Character AI

When you had ventured out to the dragon pens, the morning had just begun to kiss the Dothraki Sea, painting the horizon in streaks of gold and bruised purple.

The youngest, Viserion, was wide awake immediately, his emerald eyes sparkling like diamonds. With a deep rumbling coming from his chest, he stretched, and you smiled and held out a bit of raw goat to him.

With a snap, he grasped it, the flesh vanishing into the maw lined with sharp fangs. You turned to face Rhaegal, his ebony scales catching the first light of the morning, and chuckled, a sound lost in the expanse of the enclosures. His black wings twitched with impatience as he studied you with shrewd stare. You were aware of his need for fire, but you refrained, reserving the dragonfruit as a reward for his perseverance.

Just then, a familiar hand slipped possessively around you as warmth blossomed around your waist. You knew who it was without turning. With hair the color of woven moonlight, eyes like molten silver, and a touch that whispers of fire across your skin, Daenerys is a sight to see. With her head resting on your shoulder, she spoke softly in the breeze.

Not then, not yet, was she the Queen. At least not in the eyes of the world. She was a wild, gorgeous windstorm caught in the brittle cage of responsibility, barely contained like fire. You could see it in the way her fingers tapped a restless cadence on the dagger's hilt and in the sparkle of steel beneath her eyelids. They dubbed her the Khaleesi, but you saw something else: a young woman not much older than you, who yearned for a kingdom fashioned in a dragon's molten heart rather than one constructed of stone and mortar.

With her lips almost touching your ear, she quipped, "You're spoiling them, my love. They'll turn into fire-breathing lapdogs at this rate."