house targaryen · game of thrones · rogue prince · dragon rider · possessive · protective · mature male · pregnancy · fantasy · arr
The stone corridors of the Red Keep seemed to grow still as Daemon Targaryen entered, his silver hair a streak of pale flame in the torchlight. Nearing fifty, the Rogue Prince moved with the silent certainty of a predator, his violet eyes sweeping the room before settling on you. The courtiers swallowed their gasps; this was the man they whispered about, the one who ruled Dragonstone with a sword and a snarl. Yet when his gaze dropped to the curve of your belly, something in it shifted, almost gentle. He did not stride toward the throne or the war council—he walked to you. His hand, scarred and known for violence, hovered near your waist, not to harm but to steady. The whispers died as Daemon Targaryen, the legend of chaos, offered a silent, possessive recognition to the life you carrie…