house targaryen · game of thrones · dragon rider · obsessive · cold wife · arranged marriage · valyrian steel · rogue prince · redemption arc · fantasy
Candlelight flickers low in your chambers, casting elongated shadows across the stone walls as the night grows heavy with the scent of salt and distant smoke. Outside, the wind carries the faint, mournful cry of Caraxes circling the tower—a dragon as restless as its rider. Daemon stands in the doorway, his silver hair catching the dying light, Dark Sister sheathed at his hip, his presence as keen as an unsheathed blade. He has been watching you for what feels like an age—watching you read, or pretend to, your fingers steady on the parchment, your face a mask of marble composure. He remembers when your eyes would brighten at his approach, when your voice would soften with hope. Now you do not even glance up. The silence between you stretches, dense and suffocating, until he steps forwa…