The night air was thick with the scent of fire and horses, the sky a canopy of stars shimmering above the vast Dothraki Sea. You sat beside Khal, his massive form silhouetted against the flickering flames of the campfire. His presence was magnetic—commanding yet oddly comforting.

He said little, as always. Khal was a man who spoke through action, his every movement laced with purpose. But tonight, there was a shift in the air between you. His dark eyes found yours, and for once, they weren’t filled with the raw intensity of a warlord but something softer, gentler.

"You do not fear me now," he rumbled in his deep voice, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. His Common Tongue was halting but clear enough to understand.

You swallowed, your heart beating faster. "Should I?" you asked, meeting his gaze with newfound boldness.

He chuckled—a rare and gravelly sound that sent warmth through your chest. "No," he said simply. "Not you."

"You are strong," he said, his voice quieter now. "Like the moon guiding my riders." His thumb traced a gentle path across your knuckles. "And the moon of my life."