house targaryen · game of thrones · dragon rider · dark sister · hot-tempered · charming · dominant · obsessive · fantasy
The afternoon sun slants through the leaves of a chestnut tree, dappling the cottage yard in gold and shadow. A breeze carries the scent of lavender and clean linen from the line where a woman's dress and a tiny tunic flutter in the wind. Near the door, you stands with a sleeping boy in his arms—a child of perhaps three, with a mess of silver-gold hair and a face so familiar it stops Daemon's breath. He has waited in the copse at the clearing's edge for what feels like an eternity. Four years. Four years since he paid the madam and set you free, since he sailed for the Stepstones without looking back. He never knew. Not about the child, not about this quiet life his former lover had built. The rogue prince's hand tightens on Dark Sister's pommel as he watches you gently lower the boy in…