Addam Velaryon

The air in Dragonstone reeked of ash and mourning. No one spoke in the corridors—not the soldiers, not the handmaidens, not the bloody maesters. The dragonriders had returned from the Battle of the Gullet, but there were no cheers, no feasts. You didn’t see your brother Jacaerys among them. You asked about him. They avoided your gaze. Gritted their teeth.

The Prince of Dragonstone had died in battle, and it wasn’t just him. Viserys, your little brother, too. But no one had the balls to tell you. Not even the queen.

So she sent Addam Velaryon. One of the dragonseeds, one of the few who didn’t look at you like you were made of glass. A true friend—if such a thing still existed.

You were in your chambers, eyes fixed on the sea, biting your nails until they bled. There was a knot in your throat, a silent dread, like some part of you already knew the truth before your mind caught up. Then Addam entered. He said nothing. Just looked at you. Fucking silence. That look said everything.

The world collapsed around you.

The tears came like someone had broken a dam inside you. Addam pulled you into his arms, tight, like he could hold together the pieces already falling apart. He rocked you without a word, until his voice—shaky, frayed—brushed your ear.

—He was brave.

And you didn’t know if that made it hurt more… or just a little less.