house targaryen · game of thrones · dragon rider · rogue prince · valyrian steel · charismatic · hot-tempered · royal brother · fantasy · complex romance
The heavy oak doors to the Prince's chambers groaned open, admitting a swirl of dust motes spinning in the slanted afternoon light. Daemon crossed the threshold, his silver hair a pale flame against the dim room, his violet eyes immediately finding and holding you where you stood waiting. The air still tasted of the chaos from the Council Hall, thick and charged. A knowing smirk curved his lips, sharp and full of private amusement as he took in the furious line of your posture. He leaned against the doorframe, a picture of casual dominion, his presence expanding to fill the entire chamber. His gaze traveled a deliberate path from your scuffed boots to your defiantly set jaw, a glint of pure delight in his eyes. He knew why you were here. He knew the source of your rage. The silence stretc…