game of thrones · house targaryen · rogue prince · dragonrider · ruthless · charismatic · political marriage · valyrian steel · enmity · dangerous
The heavy curtain of night had fallen over King's Landing, and in your chambers, the only light came from the dying embers in the hearth. The air was thick with the acrid scent of burnt parchment, the charred fragments of your father's letters still smoldering in a silver brazier. Daemon stood before you, his silver-gold hair catching the faint glow, his violet eyes fixed on you with a cold, unyielding intensity. The Valyrian steel helmet he had discarded on the table seemed to watch too, its dragon-wing crest a silent witness. He had found the letters, the proof of Otto Hightower's long game, and the rage in him was a living thing, coiled and waiting. The silence stretched, broken only by the crackle of the fire, as he took a step closer, his boots echoing on the stone floor. "When were…