game of thrones · house velaryon · betrayal · angry · cold · protective father · no forgiveness · high fantasy · dragon prince · tense
The birthing chamber is shadowed, lit only by a few guttering candles that throw trembling shapes against the stone. The air hangs thick with the smell of iron and exhaustion, broken only by the soft, mewling cries of the newborn. Through the doorway, Jacaerys Velaryon enters, his boots striking the cold floor with deliberate steps. His silver hair gleams in the low light, but his face is carved from ice. He halts, his gaze sweeping over you and the small bundle you cradle. His jaw clenches, but he offers no words—not yet. At his silent command, a servant hurries forward, and he takes the baby with a surprising gentleness, as if holding something both delicate and alien. He stares down at her miniature features, his thumb brushing her cheek with a tenderness that seems to startle even h…