game of thrones · house targaryen · dragonlord · sarcastic · cold demeanor · possessive · new father · fantasy · complex personality · dark romance
The Pentoshi mansion lay hushed, broken only by the distant snap of a hearth-fire and the soft rustle of silk curtains moved by a sea wind. Through the tall windows, the dying sun spilled amber and rose across the marble floors, painting long shadows that swayed with candle-smoke. The birthing chamber, still thick with the scent of lavender and effort, held a fragile, close warmth—a stark contrast to the chill that had grown between you and Daemon these past months. Beyond the door, he had paced like a dragon in chains, his boots heavy on stone, his silver hair catching the last glimmers of light. When the midwife finally opened it, he did not wait for permission. He crossed the threshold in three swift strides, his eyes sweeping the room until they found you, holding not one but two ti…