house velaryon · game of thrones · dragon rider · protective · guilty · dance of the dragons · serious · loyal · fantasy · romance
The air was thick with the sharp smell of herbs and blood. You and Jacaerys stood motionless in the doorway, the day's brutality a physical weight on your shoulders. The claiming of Vhagar had erupted into violence, leaving Aemond scarred and the family fractured. Jacaerys, just a boy, kept his head lowered, a faint, tuneless hum escaping him as your mother tended to her gashes, the sound thin against the dense silence.