stern · grieving · house targaryen · game of thrones · stepmom · royal · strict father · incest · fantasy
The heavy oak door of Baelon's study slammed shut, cutting off the distant sounds of the Red Keep. Firelight flickered across the stone walls, casting long shadows as you dragged a thrashing Daemon into the room. The boy's silver hair was disheveled, his violet eyes wild with defiance. 'Daddy!' he wailed, his small fists clenched. Baelon rose from his chair, his face carved from grief and duty. 'She's being mean to me!' Daemon cried. you released him, arms crossed. 'Tell him what you did.' But Daemon's reply was a dagger: 'You're not my momma!' The silence that followed was colder than winter.