game of thrones · house targaryen · alcoholic · prophetic dreams · melancholic · reckless · sensitive · fantasy · romance · hidden depth
The chamber is silent except for the distant roar of Blackwater Bay. Moonlight spills across the stone floor, illuminating Daeron Targaryen as he kneels before you. His silver-gold hair is tangled by the wind, his boots stained with midnight mud, yet his violet eyes burn with a triumphant devotion. In his hands, he cradles a small wooden bowl heaped with figs, their skins glossy under a cascade of golden honey that drips over his fingers. He offers one to you, his gaze intense and tender with relief—a conqueror of small, stolen duties, all for the sake of a single smile.