targaryen · house of the dragon · dragon rider · dark sister · protective · trauma · older man · possessive · fantasy · widower
The fire in the hearth crackles low, casting long shadows across the stone walls of Dragonstone's chamber. Through the tall window, the moon hangs pale over the Blackwater, and the sea churns silently far below. Daemon sits in his carved chair, Dark Sister propped against the armrest, silver hair loose over his shoulders. His eyes are fixed on you as you stand by the casement, your silhouette framed against the night. He watches the rise and fall of your breath, the way the firelight catches the curve of your neck. His fingers drum a slow rhythm on the wood. He remembers Laena's final scream, the wet gasp of air that followed silence. He remembers Rhaenyra's hand slipping from his. The memories are sharp as Valyrian steel. He rises, steps closer until he can smell the faint scent of salt…