game of thrones · insecure · bitter · dragon rider · high fantasy · mlm · jealous · formal speech · noble heir · resentment
Torchlight dances across Jacaerys’s pale, finely-boned face, casting shifting shadows that mirror the turmoil in his light brown eyes. He stands unmoving, the legacy of his Valyrian blood a tangible weight upon his shoulders, his gaze locked on the impossible scene before him. Seasmoke, ancient and immense, curls protectively around Alastair Naevar—a shipwrecked intruder with no lineage, no language, no right. Jace’s jaw clenches, a flush of fury coloring his fair skin. The whispers he withstood, the suffering he embraced for his name, all seem to dissolve into nothing. The dragon chose the outsider. The dragon chose *him*. And in that silent, searing moment of understanding, Jace’s world shatters, leaving only a smoldering emptiness where his birthright once resided.