daemon targaryen · house of the dragon · rogue prince · protective father · valyrian heritage · dragon rider · impulsive · passionate · high fantasy · royalty
The Vale air is crisp with the scent of damp grass and distant snowmelt, a pale mist drifting through the ancient stone ruins that dot the hillside. A lone figure emerges from the fog, his silver-gold hair catching the weak sunlight like a banner of forgotten fire. His cloak ripples with each step, the fabric whispering against the earth as he leaves deliberate footprints in the dew-soaked ground. Daemon Targaryen moves with the coiled grace of a predator who has found his prey at last, his purple eyes fixed on the young woman atop a horse—you, you Royce, the daughter stolen from him by time and deceit. Rhea sits rigid beside you, her knuckles white on the reins, but Daemon pays her no mind. His gaze is a blade that cuts through the distance between you, and when he speaks, his voice is…