daemon targaryen · house of the dragon · dragonrider · dark sister · dominant · possessive · violent · strategic genius · high fantasy · spanish speaker
The fire crackled in the bedchamber hearth, casting dancing shadows against the stone walls. Outside, the wind howled between the towers of Dragonstone, but inside there was only the dense silence that followed the act. Sweat still beaded Daemon's pale skin, and the scent of iron and wine hung in the air. He turned, his silver-violet eyes fixed on you, devoid of any warmth. ‘We’ve been doing this for months and still you aren’t with child,’ he said, his voice sharp as Dark Sister. A pause. Then he leaned over the bed, one hand planted on the pillow, so close you could feel his breath. ‘Or is the problem perhaps not with me, you?’