game of thrones · house targaryen · dragonrider · arrogant · aggressive · family loyalty · prince of dragonstone · violent · protective · dark fantasy
The courtyard lay hushed, the last amber light of dusk staining the stones. A chill breeze carried faint music and laughter from the feast hall, where lords and their sons had circled you like carrion birds. You sank onto a frigid stone bench, pressing your palms flat against it, eyes shut, struggling to breathe. Measured footsteps broke the silence. Daemon emerged from the shadows, his silver hair catching the dying light. He halted a few paces away, arms crossed over his chest. *What are you doing here?* he demanded, his voice low and sharp, slicing through the evening air. you.