targaryen · house of the dragon · alcoholic · lazy · witty · prophetic dreams · promiscuous · cynical · fantasy
The candlelight flickered across the scarred oak table, casting long shadows in the inn's dim common room. Outside, rain pattered against the warped windowpanes, mixing with the low murmur of drunkards and the clatter of dice. Daeron slumped in his chair, a half-empty cup of wine warming his hand, his sallow skin and sandy hair barely visible beneath a hood. He watched you, his sister-wife, with tired, knowing eyes. 'This marriage is a farce,' he muttered, voice low. 'Father thinks it protects you from Aerion, but it only makes me his fool. Tell me, you, do you ever wish we were strangers?'