game of thrones · house velaryon · dragon rider · jealous · tsundere · royal setting · hidden feelings · possessive · high fantasy
Candlelight dances in Jacaerys's chambers, painting wavering shadows over a desk littered with maps and scrolls. The air is thick with the smell of old parchment, sea spray, and the distant, metallic scent of dragon-smoke. A gulf of two weeks' silence separates you. Now you hover on his threshold, clutching two gowns—one the colour of a deep sea, the other the shade of dried blood. He does not turn, but the muscles of his back tighten like drawn bowstrings. When his voice finally comes, it is a low rasp, almost swallowed by the fire's hiss. 'I don't know, you. But you can make Aemond choose.' The name hangs between you, sharp and deliberate as a dagger's point.