A/N: This one is dedicated to all of our girl Sydney 'Khaleesi' Sage's supporters on tumblr. If you don't watch Game of Thrones, I'm sorry, but you might not follow some of the references in this one. Since Game of Thrones has been airing since 2011 and the Bloodlines series is set in 2008, let's assume that this oneshot is set in a future in which Sydney and Adrian have defeated Alicia/the Alchemists, somehow found a way to keep Hopper alive for a few more years, and are now together and happy.

Dracarys

"Say it again," Adrian commands.

"I feel silly," I protest.

"Trust me, you look far from silly."

We're perched on the edge of our couch, leaning forward. I'm almost nose-to-nose with the little callistana curled up on the coffee table opposite.

"Hopper," I say in what I know is a terrible impression of a High Valyrian accent, "Dracarys."

The little dragon blinks up at me. His eyes are wide with confusion.

"Dracarys," I command again. Hopper curls his tiny claws and lets out a little squeak.

Adrian falls back onto the couch, laughing. Grinning, I settle back into his side.

"I guess I'm probably not going to be able to raise an army with this little guy by my side any time soon," I quip.

"You don't need Hopper to start breathing fire," Adrian says. "Dragon or no dragon, people would follow you anywhere."

I shove him good-naturedly. "Try telling the Alchemists that." Although some members of the group I'd once been part of had seen the benefits of friendlier associations with Moroi, many more still were spreading a twisted version of my story as a preventative lesson to others who might try the same. Don't step out of line, or big bad vampires like Adrian Ivashkov will get to you. We laughed about it most days, but it still frustrated me when I met scared young Alchemists who could hardly meet my eyes.

"Never mind the Alchemists," Adrian says. He brushes my hair back and kisses my forehead. "I'll follow you anywhere."

"You'd better." I lower my voice a bit. "Or I shall show you no mercy," I say in my best English accent. Adrian's eyes seem to glaze over.

"Fuck, that's hot," he says, dreamily.

I raise my eyebrows. "Seriously? You never told me you had a thing for Daenerys."

He shrugs. "Yeah, she's pretty much the only reason why I watch the show."

I gape, not fully comprehending his words. We've watched Game of Thrones together since it first aired. He brought me all the books and DVDs. He's a casual fan. At least, I thought I was.

Adrian doesn't seem to pick up on my stunned silence. "Hey, you should be Daenerys for Hallowe'en this year. I'll go as that guy with the hair and we'll incorporate Hopper into our costumes. It'll be brilliant."

"What do you mean, she's the only reason you watch the show?" I demand, refusing to be distracted by his Hallowe'en plans and vague character description. "What about the incredible detail? The complex world-building, the socio-political commentary, the historical influences!"

He waves a hand dismissively. "That's all your kind of thing. I'm just interested in Daenerys' scenes."

"I can't believe this," I say. I'm absolutely floored. "You're telling me that you don't even care about any other character on the show? Not even any of the other women?"

"What can I say?" Adrian grins so widely that his fangs are exposed. "I have a very specific type."

"What, you're suddenly exclusively into blondes?" I grumble. "Last time I checked, your 'type' is any pretty girl between the ages of twenty and thirty." I'm being mean, I know – it doesn't really bother me when he turns on the Ivashkov charm around other girls. I know that he'd never even consider straying. But it's late and I'm tired and we've sat through three whole seasons of this show together, and yet I've just found out that he doesn't really care about any of the wonderfully intricate characters and plot details that have consumed my every spare thought for the past few years. I'd thought that this show was something we had in common.

His grin vanishes and he sits back, eyes stony. "You're mad because I think some random girl on a TV show is hot?"

"Daenerys Targaryen is not some random girl!" I say, my voice rising.

"Right," Adrian nods. "She's a smoking hot girl."

"Arrgh!" I stand up and instantly start pacing to release some of my frustration. "I can't believe this. Why did you spend all those hours watching the show if you don't even care about most of the characters?"

He shrugs. "You care."

My bubble of anger deflates a bit. I throw myself back down onto the couch beside him and cross my arms stiffly. "You sat through three seasons of a show you didn't like for me?" I ask quietly.

"No," he says bluntly. "I really do like the Daenerys scenes."

I make an angry sound in my throat, but before I can storm off, he's moved closer to me and slung an arm around my shoulders.

"You want to give me a chance to explain why I like Daenerys so much?" he asks, a little exasperatedly.

"Because she's a badass, gorgeous blonde?" I guess, trying to put as much venom as possible into the words he'd probably use to describe her.

Adrian just laughs. "Yeah, she's a badass, gorgeous blonde. But she didn't start out so badass – she taught herself how to lead. Her people love her because she showed them mercy and kindness. Her enemies fear her because she's absolutely ruthless towards anyone who crosses those she loves." He stops there, and nudges me. "Remind you of anyone?"

"I'm not ruthless," I protest.

"Tell that to the Alchemists. Or Alicia. Or that one girl who bullied Jill way back when we first moved to Palm Springs – what was her name?"

"Laurel." I smile and the tight bubble in my chest disappears. "Okay, I see your point."

Adrian squeezes my shoulder and continues. "She's not as forgiving as you are. But she's brave, so brave. She didn't have such a great childhood, but she's carving a new path for herself now and she's not going to let anything or anyone stand in her way. She's calculating. She's clever. She takes risks only when she can see that they're worth taking. She's passionate. She's maternal. She's the mother of dragons, for Christ's sake." He shakes his head, ruefully. "How much more obvious do I have to be?"

Hopper lets out another well-timed squeak. I can't help but smile when I turn to see him chewing on the corner of our season one DVD box.

"Daenerys isn't that wonderful though." I say, even though I'm flattered by the comparison. "She's obsessed with revenge, her storyline essentially represents everything that's wrong with the white saviour trope, and her relationship with Khal Drogo was deeply problematic –"

Adrian laughs. "You've told me all of this before. I do actually listen when you talk about the show, you know." He tugs me closer. "You make it interesting. And it's ten times more confusing when I try to watch it by myself."

I sigh and curl into his side again. "I suppose I can't fault you for liking her," I say. "It's not like I don't go slightly weak at the knees whenever Jon Snow or Robb Stark are on-screen."

Adrian freezes. "Both of them?" he demands.

"I happen to like pale, pretty guys," I tease.

"I'm not pretty," he says, affronted. "And they... they have stupid hair!"

I cough deliberately. "Says the guy who always spends at least half an hour perfecting that deliberately messy style every morning."

Adrian makes a low growling noise in his throat. "You're just messing with me," he accuses.

I feign innocence. "I wouldn't dare."

He rolls me onto my back. "Take it back," he demands.

I channel Daenerys again as I pull him closer. "Never," I say in the throatiest English accent I can muster.

He groans and his lips find my neck as he presses me down into the couch. Words become pretty meaningless after that.