Daenerys Targaryen Artwork Novels & Stories

Madchen fidgeted nervously in her new dress. Drago had certainly thought of everything,she thought to herself. Standing in front of the full length mirror,she watched as the attendants he hired fussed with her satiny coral cocktail dress. Her Fiery hair cascaded down her shoulders in spiraling curls,and her fingernails and toes were painted a matching coral as well.

Friends. "So, Danae," Vivi started, flashing me a mischievous yet stunning smile. Her eyes had dark circles underneath them but her eyes sparkled brightly. Too brightly if you asked. Almost matching the gown of sparkly gold that she wore. The dresses made on these lands outshine anything I'd ever seen in Avalor. I marveled at the creation with wonder. Dresses like these would cost a fortune... If they could even find such... glamorous fabrics. I looked away from her clothing that I had been gawking and met her gaze again, raising a brow at her. "You had any bits of the old in-out, in-out lately?"

She drank de Descendants of the ancient kings and queens of Qarth, the Pureborn commanded the Civic Guard and the fleet of ornate galleys that ruled the straits between the seas. Daenerys Targaryen had wanted that fleet, or part of it, and some of their soldiers as well. She made the traditional sacrifice in the Temple of Memory, offered the traditional bribe to the Keeper of the Long List, sent the traditional persimmon to the Opener of the Door, and finally received the traditional blue silk slippers summoning her to the Hall of a Thousand Thron

I get up and go to my little paint room at 3 in the morning. I break out my paints and throw up a canvas. I painted well into dawn. I stepped back and looked at the ebony wolf with the white cross and red eyes. Standing like a king in the trees. "Who are you?" I whisper. "Sam?" I turn and Dylan’s standing in the doorway. "Wow. What's that?" He analyzes the painting. I shrug. "I don't know. It came to me last night." I cross my arms and look at the painting.

The thornbush had wrapped its vines around the trunk, but they were now curling away, shrivelling. The Draekon beat his wings hard and launched up and out of the dome again soaring around the castle. The Draekon flew slower than before, careful not to tear the leaves or damage them in the wind. So the Draekon soared low to the ground, hugging the edge of the castle walls. From this point, Aerys couldn't see the battle between Valor and Rhaenyx, but he could hear and feel the heat from the fire that crackled through the air.

The walls were spotless and had art of famous Tangent battles on them and the ceiling was incredibly high with expensive chandeliers hanging from it a few feet apart which gave the black marble floor beneath his feet an ethereal gleam. His walk was interrupted as he came to a stop to look at his favorite depiction of a Tangent battle, the name of the piece was “Pure Dominance” A little intense, but he liked it. The piece was of a famous Hero named The Dominator, she wore her trademark horned helm with a skin tight light armor bodysuit, all jetblack and her bladed whip called Aggressors Wrath that glowed with brilliantly violent power.

I ask him if he sees what I do. "Do you see anything different in this painting?" He looks at the painting and then at me with confusion, "Sorry, no, what's different?" "King Darius is wearing the blue diamond King's pendant, but it has a pattern running through it." He takes a step closer and I watch as his eyes widen even more. "Is that even possible?" "I don't know. Who did the painting?" "It was done by the castle's painter, she was also rumoured to be a rare White Witch that was hiding among us..."

Sconces on either side provided extra illumination to the hanging, and what was depicted upon it was unmistakable. The battle at Haedral Valley. It was the only piece of décor to depict a Dragon, and this one showed quite vividly the form of Neyalha swooping low over Minotaur soldiers, spewing great gouts of flame that engulfed them. In the fore of the composition was the form of a fallen Minotaur, scorched and bloody, a sword lying beside him on the ground. Andric recognized the woven depiction of the sword he had brought.

“Or anyone who threatens her kin.” Brie closed her eyes as the political implications settled like stones in the room. A Dawlya Circle Keeper whose loyalty lay with the Draynor throne. A sorceress who could rival an entire Dawlya High Circle. A power that merged not just with a mage… but with a dragon. “Is she… stable?” Brie asked, quietly.

"We've been tracking Arlene for three years. We have lost her trail twice, but we finally figured out where she was hiding." "The packhouse," Theo muttered. "She wasn't hiding at all." "Best place to hide is in plain sight." Lyanna pulled something from her belt. A portrait, but the edges were burned. She held it toward the light. The woman in the painting looked exactly like Arlene. Same face, and same eyes. But the clothes were looking so ancient and formal. At the bottom, someone had written a name in careful script: Morgana Blackthorne, 1611.