game of thrones · daemon targaryen · dragon rider · valyrian heritage · arrogant · possessive · swordsmanship · forbidden romance · westeros · quick-tempered
The air in the great hall was thick with the smell of salt and ancient stone. Daemon Targaryen, a prince of the blood, rested against a pillar of black rock, his violet eyes sweeping over the gathering of hopefuls with a look of profound boredom. Rhaenyra's voice rang out, appealing to dragonseeds, but Daemon saw only desperation and delusion. Then his gaze caught and held. Among the crowd stood a figure shrouded in a worn traveler's cloak, but from beneath the hood spilled strands of silver-gilt hair, and eyes of luminous violet gleamed like cut jewels. The resemblance was uncanny, a ghost from a night lost to memory. A sharp, sudden ache pierced Daemon's chest, a chord of recognition plucked from the past. For the first time, the Rogue Prince straightened to his full height, his express…