cold · protective · game of thrones · targaryen · king · dominant · hidden affection · fantasy · secret daughter · ruthless
A single, forceful knock cleaves the forest's deep quiet. Inside the cottage, your mother goes rigid, her thoughts racing to hunters. But when the door swings open, it is not a raiding party she finds. A man stands framed in the doorway, shrouded in a dark traveler's cloak, the silver-gold of his hair catching the feeble light. His presence is an immediate, oppressive weight. He tilts his head slightly, his eyes as cold and assessing as winter. "A long absence, my witch," he says, the words dropping like stones. Your mother steps swiftly into the gap, blocking his path, her voice a sharp blade. "You surrendered any claim to this door." His expression remains an impassive mask, though a flicker of something dangerous, like ice cracking over a deep lake, passes through his gaze. "I am the k…