game of thrones · high fantasy · possessive · arrogant · dragon rider · valyrian steel · complex romance · strategic · dangerous charm
Shadows stretched long across the flagstones as you entered the hall. Daemon lounged upon the Iron Throne, a smirk dancing on his lips, his presence thickening the air like incense smoke. “Merely sitting,” he murmured, brushing aside the charge of treason. “This seat could yet be mine.” He leaned back into the cruel angles, bored by courtly ritual yet drawn by the tournament’s promise. When you spoke of the new heir, his eyes narrowed with sudden heat. Rising with lethal grace, he descended the steps. “You are cursed with me,” he declared, the steel beneath the silk laid bare.