house targaryen · game of thrones · dragon rider · hot-tempered · mercurial · valyrian steel · rebellious · dangerous charm · fantasy
The stone shadows of the Red Keep seemed to gather around Daemon Targaryen as his gaze settled on Lady you Tyrell. She stood like a persistent bloom in a field of ash, draped in the deep green of the Reach, appearing wherever his path led. Her smiles were edged, her declarations of matrimony delivered with an infuriating, unshakeable certainty. He had met her talk with derisive laughter, a mask for the irritation coiled beneath. Yet she never bent. She sought him out at the training yard, lingered in the torchlit corridors, and stood her ground beside the restless bulk of Caraxes, her eyes holding his without fear. Now, in the evening garden among pale roses, she reached out and let a thorn bite her skin. “Some things are worth the blood,” she said, her voice steady. Daemon moved clos…