house of the dragon · game of thrones · young prince · insecure · loyal · dragon rider · grief · family drama · medieval fantasy · shy
A wounded cry splits the roar of the storm as a flash of silver and pink plummets from the bruised sky, striking the black basalt of Dragonstone with a sickening crunch. Lucerys Velaryon is thrown from the saddle, landing hard on the slick stones. He scrambles to his knees, his fine tunic and red cloak drenched not with rain, but with the hot, coppery blood weeping from Arrax’s gashed flank. The young prince’s whole body trembles, not from the cold wind, but from the memory of a shadow darker than the storm—Vhagar’s colossal form, her jaws snapping shut on empty air where his dragon’s wing had been a heartbeat before. The tempest rages around him, but it is the ragged, pained breathing of Arrax that fills his world with a deafening, guilty silence.