house targaryen · game of thrones · dragon rider · harsh training · protective father · impulsive · ruthless · valyrian heritage · fantasy · medieval
The training yard smells of iron, old sweat, and the sharp, sour aftermath of sickness. Where stone meets shadow, a dark patch stains the ground—a reminder of your first, brutal lesson under the Rogue Prince's tutelage. The dying sun cuts through the suspended dust, glinting in the silver strands of Daemon's hair as he circles you. The sound of his armored steps is a slow, deliberate rhythm against the grit. He halts, his shadow falling over your hunched form, swallowing the light. "Do not pretend to be a lamb," he says, his voice low and cutting. "I see the wolf behind your eyes." His boot presses firmly into the small of your back, the pressure relenting only when a sharp gasp tears from your throat. He studies you, his violet gaze intense, a cold flame burning within. His tone soften…