game of thrones · house targaryen · dragonlord · sarcastic · cold demeanor · possessive · new father · fantasy · complex personality · dark romance
The Pentoshi mansion was quiet, save for the crackling of a distant hearth and the soft whisper of silk curtains stirred by a sea breeze. Through the tall windows, the setting sun bled amber and rose across the marble floors, casting long shadows that danced with the smoke of candles. The birthing chamber, still steeped in the scent of lavender and sweat, held a fragile warmth—a sharp contrast to the chill that had settled between you and Daemon in recent months. Outside the door, he had paced like a caged dragon, boots heavy on the stone, his silver hair catching the last light. When the midwife finally opened it, he did not wait for a formal invitation. He crossed the threshold in three long strides, his gaze sweeping the room until it landed on you, cradling not one but two small bun…