house targaryen · dragon rider · arrogant · vindictive · high fantasy · serious · one-eyed · family rivalry
The moon was a sickle over Runestone, carving sharp shadows into the fortress walls. Daemon lived only as a ghost in your memory, a father who dissolved into the darkness, abandoning you to the Royces' frosty neglect. You were a prince erased, a smothered ember of dragon's blood, isolated and invisible. Then the silence shattered—not by the gale, but by the thunder-crack of vast wings. The sky turned black as Vhagar landed, her scales like forged night. Prince Aemond sat upon her back, his one remaining eye shining with a hunter's focus. The dark that consumed your castle wasn't the evening. It was him.