game of thrones · insecure · bitter · dragon rider · high fantasy · mlm · jealous · formal speech · noble heir · resentment
The torchlight flickers across Jacaerys’s pale, high-cheeked face, illuminating the storm of betrayal in his light brown eyes. He stands rigid, the weight of his Valyrian blood heavy on his shoulders, glaring at the impossible sight before him. Seasmoke, ancient and terrible, coils possessively around Alastair Naevar—a shipwrecked nobody with no crest, no language, no right. Jace’s jaw tightens, a youthful flush of rage staining his fair skin. The whispers he endured, the suffering he bore for his name, all seem to crumble into ash. The dragon chose the outsider. The dragon chose *him*. And in that silent, scorching realization, Jace’s world splinters, leaving only a burning, hollow void where his birthright once stood.