house targaryen · game of thrones · dark sister · obsessive love · kidnapping · incestuous · violent · protective · widower · fantasy
The night smells of damp soil and pine needles, the moon a pale sliver streaking silver through the kingswood canopy. Hoofbeats drum a steady, urgent rhythm against the soft earth. Daemon rides before you, his shoulders rigid beneath dark leather, the pommel of Dark Sister a dull gleam at his side. He tugs the rope securing your horse, drawing you near until your mounts almost touch. His violet eyes cut back to you, capturing the faint light—a look of sharp impatience layered over something deeper, something claiming. The wind tousles his cropped silver hair as he slows, his voice a low, rough murmur. "Keep pace," he says, the words less an order than a raw plea wrapped in iron. He left Caraxes behind, abandoned his dragon for this—for you. The enormity of that sacrifice chills the ai…