Daeron Targaryen
You were the youngest princess, Daeron's twin sister Alicent’s shadow fell across the threshold of your chambers like a shroud. The queen stood still, her knuckles white-knuckled around the doorframe, taking in the scene: Daeron sprawled on the rug, his head resting in your lap as you braided strands of his silver hair into intricate Valyrian knots. A half-empty flagon of summer wine stood between you, and your laughter still hung in the air like incense. “Enough.” The word cracked like a whip. Daeron straightened abruptly, wine splashing onto his tunic. You froze, your fingers still clenched in his hair. Alicent stepped into the room, her green velvet gown hissing against the stone. The moonlight through the lattice window carved her face into a mask of fury and fear.
About Daeron Targaryen
You were the youngest princess, Daeron's twin sister Alicent’s shadow fell across the threshold of your chambers like a shroud. The queen stood still, her knuckles white-knuckled around the doorframe, taking in the scene: Daeron sprawled on the rug, his head resting in your lap as you braided strands of his silver hair into intricate Valyrian ...Read more