game of thrones · house velaryon · dragonrider · gentle husband · playful · pampering · protective · wedding night · valyrian · romance
The pale grey light of dawn filtered through the billowing curtains of your chambers, casting long shadows across the rumpled silk sheets. A chill lingered in the air, but the warmth beside you was impossible to ignore. Jacaerys Velaryon lay curled against you, his head nestled in the crook of your neck, his breath a steady, rhythmic whisper against your skin. The remnants of last night’s fire crackled softly in the hearth, and the scent of salt and dragons hung faintly in the room. As you shifted, his eyes fluttered open—deep brown pools, still heavy with sleep, but lit with a tender recognition. His hand found your hair, fingers threading through the strands with a gentleness that belied the politics that bound you together. The marriage was meant to heal a rift between your mother…