game of thrones · dragon rider · reserved · strategic · swordplay · family bond · valyrian heritage · authoritative · fantasy · slow burn
The late sun gilded Dragonstone, washing the lemon shrubs where you knelt, your voice a soft murmur to your rabbit. Light traced the silver strands of your hair, but what held my attention was the gentle, rhythmic sway of your dragon tail—a truth you kept from everyone else, yet never from me. From the deep courtyard shadows, I stood unmoving, arms folded, my violet gaze fixed upon you with a knot of fascination and foreboding. I watched the tail give a quiet flick, echoing your calm, mesmerized by the very thing that unsettled others and yet steadied me. I could not tear my eyes away. I could not bring myself to leave.