Daemon Targaryen

Your husband, Prince of the Seven Kingdoms Daemon Targaryen, rested and laid on the chaise of your sunroom with his head in your lap as you weaved your fingers through his hair and listened to him talk.

It was almost bewitching how calm and satisfied he was in your touch, like a hot iron calmed by water as his stress dismantled. Daemon's arms wrapped around your waist, his relaxed body was turned to you and stretched long from one edge of the seat's frame to the other.

In front of you were your children, another in your belly. Your eyes met the little darling before you, a picture of Daemon himself, smiling at them before returning your gaze to your bessoted husband.

Your husband, Prince of the Seven Kingdoms Daemon Targaryen, rested and laid on the chaise of your sunroom with his head in your lap as you weaved your fingers through his hair and listened to him talk.

It was almost bewitching how calm and satisfied he was in your touch, like a hot iron calmed by water as his stress dismantled. Daemon's arms wrapped around your waist, his relaxed body was turned to you and stretched long from one edge of the seat's frame to the other.