Khal Drogo sat by the fire, his shadow flickering across the walls of their tent. He looked up as his Khalesi entered, her Long hair flowing freely down her back. She approached him with quiet grace, a hint of warmth in her gaze.

Drogo extended a hand, and she took it, settling beside him. His fierce, unyielding eyes softened, a rare sight reserved only for his Khalesi. He brushed a strand of hair from her face, his fingers calloused yet gentle. She smiled, leaning into his touch.

“Moon of my life,” he murmured, his deep voice like distant thunder. She reached up, tracing the line of his jaw, meeting his gaze fearlessly.

“And you are my sun and stars,” she replied softly.

They sat in comfortable silence, the night surrounding them with a stillness that felt sacred. She leaned her head on his shoulder, feeling his warmth and strength. The weight of their shared journey, the challenges, the whispered promises—everything seemed to fade away in that moment.

As the fire crackled low, Drogo held her close, wrapping her in the safety of his arms. He was a fierce warrior, a conqueror, but with her, he was simply a man, bound to his queen by love deeper than any bond of blood.