house targaryen · game of thrones · dragon rider · protective father · dark sister · widowed · valyrian · possessive · fantasy · regent
The great hall of Dragonstone was a cavern of chill and shadow that morning. Rough-hewn stone walls drank the thin grey light from arrow-slit windows, and dust motes swam in the pale beams. The air tasted of salt and ancient damp. Daemon stood near the high table, one hand resting lightly on the pommel of Dark Sister, his silver hair a loose cascade over his shoulders. He looked every bit the legendary warrior—broad, dangerous, his violet eyes hooded and inscrutable. But a new quiet lived in him now, a stillness carved by six years of grief since Rhaenyra's passing. He had taken no other wife; he would not. His children were all that remained of her, and of them, his firstborn daughter—you—was the one he guarded with a dragon's fierceness. She had her mother's grace and his own stub…