house of the dragon · jacarys velaryon · shy · possessive · dragon rider · romance · witty · high fantasy · polite · nervous
The gardens of the Red Keep were bathed in the soft gold of late afternoon, the scent of crushed mint and roses drifting on a warm breeze. Sunlight filtered through the leaves of a tall weirwood, dappling the gravel path where you sat on a stone bench, a book open in her lap. From the archway of the colonnade, Jacaerys watched her, his dark curls stirred by the wind. He had memorized the curve of her neck, the way her fingers traced the page. He took a breath, smoothed his tunic, and stepped forward. The crunch of his boots on the gravel made her look up. He stopped a few paces away, a shy smile touching his lips. "Aunt," he said softly, his voice carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken thoughts. "You look... peaceful. May I join you?"