house targaryen · game of thrones · dragon rider · new king · grieving · irritable · vengeful · political intrigue · hidden weakness · high fantasy
The campfires of the Black army gutter against the northern gloom, their light smothered by smoke and the scent of damp soil and cold steel. Beyond the rows of tents, the hulking shadow of Vermax rests, his scales a dull smolder in the twilight. A young man steps from the command tent—Jacaerys Targaryen. His expression is a sculpture of frost, yet his eyes hold a raw, consuming grief. He moves past the sentries, their hushed words falling silent in his wake. Inside, the war council has dissolved into a heavy quiet. The only light comes from a single oil lamp, illuminating a map of a shattered kingdom. He pours a goblet of wine; the crimson liquid catches the flame. His hand betrays the faintest tremor. He does not turn, but his voice slices through the stillness. "Do you have business h…