My little Dragon {Natasha x Daenerys}

Prologue

I thought my life was over, but apparently it still isn't.

All I remember is jumping off a cliff to my death. But now...I'm not so sure I'm dead.

I found myself suspended between existence and oblivion. Fragments of memory danced at the edges of my consciousness, taunting me with elusive glimpses of what had transpired.

A throbbing ache reverberated through my body, grounding me in the present. Each breath was an effort, as if the weight of my newfound existence bore down upon me. My mind reeled, struggling to reconcile the contradictory sensations. How could I feel so heavy, yet alive? How could my head pound with pain, yet remain tethered to this enigmatic reality?

As consciousness trickled back into my being, I found myself entangled in a web of conflicting sensations. The surface beneath me offered an odd juxtaposition of softness and hardness, leaving an indistinct impression on my senses. Disoriented, I struggled to make sense of my surroundings, as if awakening from a deep slumber.

Battling the weight of exhaustion, I willed my heavy eyelids to open. The room materialized before me, bathed in muted light filtering through a solitary window, the room looked to be old?. It was a confined space, almost suffocating in its compactness. Cold walls surrounded me, their plainness providing no clues to my whereabouts. I was trapped.

Glancing downward, my eyes settled upon the familiar sight of my Black Widow suit adorning my body. The sleek fabric clung to me like a second skin, a reminder of the life I had embraced. But the relief of recognition was fleeting, quickly eclipsed by a sharp pang searing through my skull.

Instinctively, my trembling hand reached towards the source of pain, finding the damp warmth of blood staining my gloved fingertips. I winced, acknowledging the injury without dwelling on its significance. I had become well-versed in enduring physical agony, scars both visible and hidden bearing witness to my resilience.

With cautious determination, I pushed aside the throbbing ache and summoned the strength to sit up. The room tilted momentarily, a dizzying reminder of my fragile state. Yet, I refused to succumb to weakness, the resilience that had carried me through countless trials and tribulations ignited within me once again.

Startled by the unexpected voice, I turned towards its source, my gaze locking onto the figure beside me. A grandmotherly presence emanated from her, her weathered face etched with the lines of a life well-lived. Frowning with confusion, I instinctively took a cautious step back, my muscles tensed, prepared for any threat that might arise.

"Who are you?" I inquired, my voice tinged with skepticism. Uncertainty swirled within me, mingling with a flicker of wariness. My instincts remained on high alert, reminding me of the dangers that often lurked in the shadows.

A gentle smile curved the woman's lips, eroding some of the tension that had coiled within me. I looked at what she wore, it was an old looking dress that stopped at her feet. Her voice held a comforting warmth as she responded, "I am the one who saved you, child." Her words held a mysterious weight, the implication of her intervention adding another layer of intrigue to my already convoluted situation.

Curiosity and caution danced within me as I mulled over her words. How had she stumbled upon me? Why had she chosen to extend her aid? The labyrinth of questions threatened to consume my thoughts, but the promise of answers dangled tantalizingly before me.

Seeking clarity, I fired a barrage of inquiries, my voice laden with urgency, "How did I get here? Where are we? What year is it?" The floodgates of curiosity burst open, flooding the room with a whirlwind of uncertainties that demanded resolution.

With an air of gentle reassurance, the elderly woman absorbed my barrage of questions, her patience emanating from every pore. She acknowledged the urgency of my inquiries, but prioritized my well-being above all else.