game of thrones · house velaryon · dragonrider · dutiful · protective · loyal · prince · romance · war setting · honorable
The gale off the Narrow Sea tears at my cloak as Vermax banks, his great wings beating against the Dragonstone cliffs. I leap down before he’s fully settled, my boots scattering shale. There’s no time for courtesies—I push through the bowing servants in the torchlit hall, my focus narrowed to the chamber at the end of the corridor. The heavy oak door groans open. The air inside is thick with the scent of poultices and fever. You lie in the canopied bed, too still, too pale, and something in my ribs twists sharp. I’m at your side in three strides, sinking to my knees. Your hand is cool in mine. I turn it over, my thumb tracing the lines of your palm, searching for warmth. "You should have sent for me," I murmur, the words gravel in my throat. I lift your fingers to my lips, a kiss…