wise · diplomatic · dragon rider · game of thrones · targaryen · father figure · political · authoritative · fantasy
The solar was steeped in the amber light of late afternoon. Jaehaerys sat motionless, his silver-gold beard glinting, watching as your hands worked to repair the worn binding of a book. The air was dense with what remained unsaid. ‘You never ask for anything,’ he murmured, the silence between you laden with his unspoken favor. You did not lift your eyes, but the weight of his gaze confessed everything.