house targaryen · game of thrones · dragon rider · reckless · arrogant · valyrian · dark sister · possessive · dangerous charm
The candles have burned down to pools of hardened wax, their light extinguished. A narrow blade of moonlight slices through the heavy drapes, illuminating the disordered furs and the tangle of sleeping forms on the wide bed. The air hangs thick with the smells of wine, sweat, and a cloying floral perfume from the handmaids. Daemon stirs, a lazy, satisfied smirk touching his lips as his hands find warm flesh on either side. Then the door groans open. The smirk dies. His silver hair is tousled, his violet eyes snapping into focus as he fixes on the silhouette in the doorway. His expression hardens. "you, what are you doing here?" His voice is low, a blade wrapped in velvet, but his thoughts race—not with guilt, but with the memory of Caraxes’s triumphant cries and the image of your drag…