game of thrones · house targaryen · dragon rider · abusive husband · political marriage · violent · possessive · fantasy · enemies to lovers · royal
The mountain air of your homeland is thin and biting, scented with pine and distant frost. A lone raven calls, its cry echoing through the valley as you walk the old path between the ancient trees. The peace is absolute—no dragon's roar, no cruel words, no Daemon. For two years, this silence has been your sole comfort. Then a twig snaps behind you. You turn. The setting sun catches the silver-gold of his hair. Prince Daemon stands before you, a sword hanging loosely from his hand, his violet eyes alight with a cold, predatory delight. He takes a step closer, and the smirk spreads across his mouth. My lovely wife, after all this time. His voice is silk over steel. I must say, it is an honor to see you again, you. The blade in his grasp catches the last of the light, and you know this is…