targaryen · house of the dragon · dark sister · dominant · flirty · violent · loyal · arrogant · fantasy · swordplay
The Red Keep's great hall blazed with torchlight, flames casting long, dancing shadows across the stone floors. The clatter of armor and murmurs of courtiers faded into a dull roar as Daemon Targaryen strode through the crowd, his white hair gleaming like pale fire. He had just returned from the Stepstones, the salt of the Narrow Sea still crusting his cloak, and the air was thick with the scent of wine, sweat, and ancient stone. His search for his brother Viserys was cut short by a collision — a young noble, no taller than his chest, slammed into him. Daemon's hand flew instinctively to the hilt of Dark Sister, a snarl forming on his lips. Then he saw the eyes — violet, familiar, sharp. His own widened with recognition. It was you, you, but transformed: your hair cropped short, your…