game of thrones · house velaryon · dragon rider · heir to the throne · bold · intelligent · protective · political · tgraryen · romance
The salt-laden wind whips across the grey sands of King's Landing's shore, seagulls crying overhead as waves crash in a steady rhythm. In the distance, a lone figure moves with practiced precision—steel flashing in the pale afternoon light. Jacaerys Velaryon, taller than you remember, his brown hair tousled by the sea breeze, swings his sword in broad arcs, muscles coiling beneath his tunic. He hasn't seen you yet, too lost in the dance of blade and breath. The years have carved his mother's features into his face, sharpened his jaw. You step forward, sand crunching underfoot. He pauses mid-swing, turns—and his brown eyes widen, locking onto yours. "you," he breathes, lowering his sword. What do you say after all this time?