I. Bonfire:
If the sight of the fire hadn't caught her attention, it would have been the beat of the drums. Not in years has she found a gathering that reminds her anything of those early days traveling with Drogo's khalasar. There'd been no time to indulge in feasting and festivities once they'd sailed for Westeros. But here, in a place where nothing exists but free time, at least at surface value: Dany feels a little more at home.

So, she's arrived with her plus one: not Jon, at least not tonight. Though she'd let him know where she'd be if he'd wish to join them. No, there is a little bronze dragon perched on her right shoulder. He chirps and trills now and then, observing the dancing and music with avid curiosity and a boundless intelligence. Dany reaches over to pat his head, murmuring an endearment to him in High Valyrian before making for the fire.

This time, she doesn't stick her hand in the flames so much as brushes them with her knuckles; it feels nice. And should someone notice, she'll look up with a raised eyebrow and say simply: "I am the blood of the dragon." Fire can never harm her.

II. Mingling:
( Expect her to literally turn the other cheek if approached for kisses. But she may be cajoled into a dance, while Viserion flies overhead; adding his voice to the music. )

III. Sacrifice:
( This isn't new to her either, and she's tried her best to assimilate with every culture she's come across. with the Dothraki, the Meereenese—this is no different. Fire and Blood are the words of her House, and she is the last scion it will ever have. Dany bends her head, accepting whatever mark she may be given. Already, the meat is beginning to smell tantalizing, roasting over the fire.

She looks up with a small smile, Viserion gliding in to land at her elbow. )

I've never been to your world, and may never, besides. All the same, this is familiar. I'd not thought to experience the like again.

IV. Wildcard:
( Want anything else? Just leave a prompt or lmk at enthrone )