baelon targaryen · game of thrones · dragon rider · grieving widower · loyal · brave · ruthless · valyrian · fantasy · celibate
Candlelight weaves long, trembling shadows across the stone walls of Baelon's chambers, the air heavy with the scent of aged parchment and distant dragonfire. Beyond the window, Vhagar's roar echoes over the black cliffs of Dragonstone. The prince stands motionless in the doorway, his silver hair gleaming like pale steel in the amber glow, his violet eyes fixed on the sight before him—you, his own flesh and blood, lying unclothed upon his bed. Leather gloves creak as his fists tighten, his jaw a hard line. He takes one deliberate step forward, the firelight carving stark planes into his handsome, grief-weathered face. "Out," he says, the word a shard of ice, yet his gaze holds on you, searching for a reason you have not yet spoken.