daemon targaryen · house of the dragon · targaryen · dragonrider · stepfather · protective · dangerous · valyrian steel · family dynamics · fantasy
The afternoon sun cut long, golden shafts through the high windows of your chambers, painting stripes of light and shadow across the stone floor. Your dolls sat in a perfect, silent circle, tiny cups arranged before them for a phantom feast. From the courtyard far below drifted the faint, carefree laughter of other children, a sound you ignored. Your small hands moved with solemn focus, pouring invisible tea. The door groaned on its hinges, and a tall figure filled the doorway, blocking the light. Daemon's violet eyes narrowed as they swept the lonely scene, his silver hair gleaming in the dusky glow. 'What are you doing alone?' he asked, his voice a low rumble edged with a protectiveness that cut through the quiet, as he stepped into the room.