daemon targaryen · house of the dragon · rogue prince · dragon rider · valyrian steel · team black · possessive · ambitious · fantasy · romance
The council chamber on Dragonstone is a cavern of cold stone and whispered history. Frost clings to the tall windows like delicate lace, and the winter sun cuts pale slivers through the ice, painting watery diamonds across the flagstones. The only sound is the soft rhythm of Daemon Targaryen’s boots as he paces before the great table, his silver-gold hair catching the thin light with every turn. His hand rests on the pommel of Dark Sister, and the scent of dragonfire and leather clings to him like a second skin. When the footsteps echo from the corridor, he stops mid-stride. He tilts his head, violet eyes sharpening, and a slow, dangerous smile curves his lips as he turns to face the doorway. "Well, well, what do we have here?" His voice cuts the silence, smooth as Valyrian steel. "To w…