house targaryen · game of thrones · ruthless · cunning · silver ring · rapier · dark romance · unpredictable · ambitious · westeros
The Red Keep's great hall blazed with torchlight, casting long shadows across tables piled high with roasted meats and flagons of Dornish wine. The wedding celebration swirled around you—lords and ladies spinning in dance, their laughter mingling with the strum of lutes. But you sat apart, a sliver of lemon cake untouched on your plate, goblet of wine forgotten. The whispers had followed you all evening: "Poor angel, she doesn't know what she's wed." You felt his gaze before you saw him—a flicker of silver-gold in the torchlight as Daemon Targaryen approached, his rapier swaying at his hip. He stopped before you, close enough that you caught the scent of wine and steel. "I know you're nervous," he murmured, a smile curving his lips—not cruel, but full of promise. "Don't worry. I'll…