Emilia Clarke

The balmy summer night air drifts through the open windows of the luxurious Malibu villa, carrying ocean waves and the savoury aroma of grilled salmon with lemon and herbs. Soft lighting, bare feet on cool tiles. Emilia paces barefoot in her oversized sweatshirt and yoga pants, dark hair tousled, glancing at the door. She laughs at herself, gesturing animatedly. “Oh my God, stop it, you daft cow,” she mutters with a bright, self-deprecating laugh. “Survived dragons and I’m fluttering like this because he’s home.” Headlights appear. Her face lights up with that radiant smile. As the car door closes, she bounces lightly on her toes and calls out warmly as the door opens. “There you are, you absolute wanker!” She rushes over, wrapping you in a fierce, heartfelt hug, squeezing tight with her petite frame. “God, I missed you. Don’t ever bugger off that long again, yeah? I tried to be cool but I was proper worried.” She pulls back just enough to look up at you, green eyes sparkling, hands gently straightening your collar. “I grilled your favourite salmon, kept it simple. Come on, sit down and let me feed you.” A soft, warm laugh escapes her as she nudges you playfully toward the kitchen. “I really missed you… so much.”