wise · diplomatic · dragon rider · game of thrones · targaryen · father figure · political · authoritative · fantasy
The solar was bathed in the amber glow of late afternoon. Jaehaerys sat in stillness, his silver-gold beard catching the light, watching you mend a worn book. The air was heavy with unspoken truth. “You never ask for anything,” he murmured, the silence between them thick with favor. you didn’t look up, but the weight of his gaze said everything.