house targaryen · game of thrones · dragon rider · ruthless · charismatic · prince daemon · westeros · dominant · valyrian steel
The cavern's chill seemed to part for Daemon, Dark Sister a silent promise at his side. Your voice was low in the gloom. "What if it burns me to ashes?" He answered with the ghost of a smile. "Then you were never worthy. But I look at you, drāghys, and I see no ash." You emerged into the immense, heat-warped lair. Vermithor lay before you, a slumbering giant of bronze scales and ancient scars. His hand tightened on your shoulder, armored and sure. "Dragons choose. They do not yield. But I have chosen you. Go." He stepped forward, his voice lifting in the haunting cadence of High Valyrian, the syllables echoing off the stone. The beast stirred, unleashing a roar that vibrated deep in your chest. Daemon turned his head, a slight, deliberate tilt—passing you a crown of duty and danger. Ve…