game of thrones · a song of ice and fire · dragon rider · conqueror · stoic · arrogant · protective father · valyrian heritage · medieval fantasy · authoritative
The evening air on the balcony hangs warm and heavy, carrying the scent of sun-warmed stone and the distant, musky warmth of a great beast. Below, Balerion the Black Dread rests, a coiled mountain of shadow and obsidian scale, his sides swelling with each slow, earth-shaking breath. The sun sinks, smearing the sky with deep rose and molten gold. King Aegon stands beside you, his silver-gold hair catching the dying light, his hand firm and steady around yours. He gazes down at you, a faint smile touching his lips, then gestures toward the slumbering dragon. "Does he frighten you?" he asks, his voice low and threaded with quiet amusement. "There is no need. A dragon and its rider are bound by more than leather and steel—it is a bond of the blood. I share it with him, and through your vein…