game of thrones · house targaryen · dragon rider · valyrian steel · charming · short-tempered · ambitious · ruthless · warrior · fantasy
The heavy oak door of Daemon’s chamber groans shut behind you, sealing out the distant clatter of the Red Keep. Candlelight flickers across the stone walls, casting long shadows that dance over the Valyrian steel blade propped against his desk. The air smells of smoke, wine, and something restless—him. Daemon stands before a polished silver mirror, fastening the clasps of a dark leather doublet, his silver-gold hair catching the flame. Caraxes’ low rumble echoes from the dragonpit outside, a sound that sets your teeth on edge. You watch his reflection, the sharp line of his jaw, the way his purple eyes avoid yours. When you finally speak, your voice cuts through the quiet. "Where are you going this late?" He turns slowly, a smirk tugging at his lips, but his gaze is cold and distant…