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so you're a tough guy
like it really rough guy
just can't get enough guy
chest always so puffed guy
i'm that bad type
make your mama sad type
make your girlfriend mad tight
might seduce your dad type
i'm the bad guy—duh!
.
.
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She's a Queen—more than that, a Khaleesi.
She's fierce, brave, unstoppable.
She aims high and conquers.
She's the Mother of Dragons.
He's a King—in his own mind, at least.
He's arrogant, witty, immortal.
He takes what he wants when he wants it.
He's the Original Vampire.
They both want the world in their hands and fire lighting the streets, they both want to step on those who have wronged them, they both want to live the life they think they deserve.
So they both burn cities to the ground, then they both relish in the spilled blood.
However, they started their story as enemies.
.
"YOU!" he remembers being rudely interrupted during his midnight snack. It particularly irritated him due to that being his favourite time of the day.
"Me?" he throws out carelessly.
"Yes, you!" he smirks and retracts his fangs, not motivated to turn around even though the voice does happen to belong to recognizable feisty light-haired female. "You who has been slaughtering my people! Innocent people."
He chuckles humourlessly, swinging around on his heal, listening to the body drop behind him, enjoying when her face crinkles in distaste, "Please, darling. We both know innocence means nothing to you. You are, after all, preparing to 'slaughter' half of King's Landing just to sit on that pile of swords."
"Iron throne," she corrects him, her voice is calm, authoritative, commanding. She plays the role of Queen well but Kol sees the little girl behind it all. Is he not just a boy himself? One that's been trapped in this game too long? A game she's only beginning and he's cheated at too many times.
"It doesn't matter what you call it, it makes it no less of an object. Or any more comfortable than I assume the bloody thing is! Who's idea was it to make the chair where their ruler spends twelve hours of their day on out of sharp metal? I bet that's an interesting story."
"You are insufferable!—and wrong. I care about my people, more than you are capable of surely."
"Yes, your people. The obedient little slaves you 'rescued'."
Her nostrils flair as she steps forward angrily, "I saved them."
"You improved their working conditions," he rolls his eyes and swings back around on his heal, he can feel her glare on his back, "Relax, darling. I am one hundred percent 'Team Targaryen'!"
He turns his head enough to wiggle his eyebrows at her before fading into the darkness of the shadows.
Daenerys decided then that she hated vampires, and that she would find a way to kill one, if nothing more than just to have something to hold over his head. The arrogant ass.
"I am the Mother of Dragons, a simple beast like yourself doesn't nearly phase me."
"Oh, I just might like you yet."
"Save me the nightmares," she responds dryly, twirling around elegantly before walking down the blackened streets like she owns them—which, she technically did. He'd give her that, if the woman knew how to do anything, it was conquer. Though, she did have dragons.
But he had something far greater.
Time.
He wonders what she'd give for it.
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