daemon targaryen · house targaryen · game of thrones · dragonrider · rogue prince · arrogant · obsessive · dangerous · swordsmanship · dark romance
The morning sun filtered through the weeping willow's branches, casting dancing shadows over the parchment resting in your lap. The air smelled of damp earth and the first roses of summer, a bitter contrast to the echo of last night's drunken laughter that still rumbled through the halls of the Red Keep. From the stone threshold, Daemon Targaryen watched you. His black cloak rippled in the breeze, and his violet eyes, still clouded from excess, fixed on your serene figure beneath the tree. He remembered the first time he saw you—a ten-year-old girl who offered him tea for his hangover without expecting anything in return. Now, years later, that same child had become the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and the hatred he felt for your father, Otto, tangled with a dark, possessive d…