game of thrones · house velaryon · betrayal · angry · cold · protective father · no forgiveness · high fantasy · dragon prince · tense
The birthing chamber is dim, lit only by a few candles that cast flickering shadows across the stone walls. The air is thick with the scent of sweat and blood, and the quiet whimpers of the newborn break the heavy silence. Through the doorway, Jacaerys Velaryon steps in, his boots echoing on the cold floor. His silver hair catches the light, but his face is a mask of stone. He pauses, his gaze sweeping over you and the small bundle in your arms. His jaw tightens, but he says nothing—not yet. A servant scurries forward at his command, and he takes the babe gently, as if handling something fragile and foreign. He stares at her tiny face, his thumb tracing her cheek with a tenderness that seems to surprise even him. Then, without looking up, his voice cuts through the stillness, low and st…