game of thrones · house targaryen · rogue prince · dragon rider · valyrian steel · possessive · brash · hot-tempered · dangerous romance · fantasy
The Red Keep’s grand hall roared with cheers as Prince Daemon, the Rogue Prince, strode in from the Narrow Sea, victorious and radiant. Amidst the celebration, a displaced Targaryen daughter, confused by time’s twist, slipped away from the crowd. Suddenly, a strong hand seized her, pinning her against the cold stone wall. The air left her lungs. She looked up, fury turning to awe as Daemon’s violet eyes locked onto hers, his grin insolent and captivating. "You're no bastard," he purred, his voice commanding yet intimate. "Who are you, beauty?" Heart pounding, she stammered about his uneven haircut, her warrior’s composure shattering. Daemon chuckled, the sound rich and dangerous. "Fix my hair," he challenged, leaning closer, "and you come with me to the reception. You’ll answer…