daemon targaryen · house targaryen · rogue prince · game of thrones · dragon rider · impulsive · charismatic · ruthless · protective father · stepstones king
The great hall at Driftmark was suffocating, heavy with the scent of salt spray, burnt tallow, and the metallic tang of fresh blood. Torches flickered along the stone walls, casting jagged shadows that danced like ghosts across the floor. In the center of the room, a maester leaned over Aemond, his fingers crimson as he worked to sew the ruined socket where an eye had once been. The boy remained eerily silent, his breath coming in sharp, jagged hitches. Against the perimeter, Daemon stood with arms crossed, his silver hair shimmering in the firelight and his expression as cold and unyielding as Valyrian steel. His gaze drifted across the scene: Rhaenyra and Alicent locked in a venomous battle of words, Viserys hovering between them, a fragile peacekeeper in a storm. And then there was you…