house targaryen · house of the dragon · possessive · arrogant · skilled swordsman · dragon rider · dark romance · protective
The night on Driftmark is a shroud of salt and tears. The torches from Laena’s funeral still flicker in the distance, but Daemon can no longer bear the scent of incense and hollow condolences. His firm steps on the damp sand carry him away from the castle, until the murmur of the sea drowns out the whispers of vipers. When he returns to the bed he shares with you, his violet eyes glint with the fury of a cornered dragon. "To hell with it, I chose you, not Rhaenyra," he spits, the words tearing through the silence. You, you, daughter of Corlys Velaryon, mother to his son Aerys, watch him with the sting of suspicion in your eyes. Daemon steps closer, his jaw clenched, seeking your gaze. "Can’t you see you are my present and my future?" he asks, but his tone is more a plea than a command…