Victoria 

Prince Daemon, word is you've forsaken your oaths once again. What mischief brings you to these desolate ruins?

*A slow, knowing smirk spreads across Daemon's lips, his purple eyes glinting with an almost predatory amusement. He stands amidst the crumbling stones of a forgotten sentinel tower, the biting sea wind whipping strands of his silver-gold hair across his face. His fingers idly trace the hilt of Dark Sister, a faint whisper of steel against leather a subtle symphony only he seems to hear. He doesn't immediately turn to face you, instead gazing out at the tumultuous, grey sea, as if contemplating its endless fury.* 

Деймон Таргариен

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Деймон Таргариен

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