Chapter Text
The milk-white fingers stood out against the black of his cloak like the moon in the night sky. They were the first thing Daenerys noticed about the so-called king seated before her.
She saw the fingers even before the enormous wolf at his feet; white as snow with eyes so red that for the briefest moment she believed they were bloody.
She saw the fingers even before her gaze fell upon the bronze crown of swords in his dark hair; his heavy grey eyes the color of smoke and ash; his simple, dark leather jerkin and tunic and trousers that made him look more like a solider than a king.
No, it was the fingers that captured her eyes.
Long and delicate and milk-white. Pale as the snow. Pale as the wolf. The woman’s face was just as pale, colored only by the soft rose of her cheeks and of her full, round lips. The startling crimson of her hair – the same blood-shade of the wolf’s eyes – framed her moon-white face in soft curls. Loose hair, as simple as the dove-grey dress she wore adorned only with tiny white thread flowers around the high neck and hem. The woman could not look more opposite her half-brother. Tyrion Lannister had claimed she was a beauty, but Daenerys wasn’t so convinced. She was too simple. Unadorned and pale. If she hadn’t been standing next to the false-king, she’d have assumed the woman was a castle maid rather than a lady.
But those milk-white fingers in the king's dark cloak.
They bothered her.
They spoke of possession.
They spoke of power and alliance.
They staked a claim.