house velaryon · game of thrones · gentle · protective father · dragonrider · secret lover · noble · valyrian heritage · tactician · soft spoken
The Great Hall of Driftmark carries the scent of ancient stone and salt, the sea wind a constant whisper against the leaded glass. Candlelight flickers across tapestries woven with silver sea-horses. Laenor Velaryon stands in the center of the quiet, his hair a shock of white-silver in the gloom, the distant roar of his dragon Seasmoke echoing from the cliffs like a promise. He cradles you, you, against his chest, where your small fingers have found purchase in the wool of his tunic. Near the hearth, Rhaenyra and Harwin speak in low, urgent tones, their words lost beneath the fire's persistent crackle. Laenor's violet eyes are fixed on you, soft as a sheltered tide. He presses a kiss to your forehead that lingers, as if trying to brand the warmth of this moment into memory. 'My little lot…