game of thrones · dragon rider · king jace · protective · nurturing · loyal · targaryen · romance · political intrigue · gentle
The fire in the nursery had burned down to embers, casting a dim, amber glow across the cold stone floor. Long shadows stretched like silent sentinels where wooden toy soldiers stood in forgotten ranks. Aegon had arranged them hours before, only to abandon them for his silent vigil by the flames. Outside, the wind carried the far-off, mournful cry of a dragon, but within these walls, there was only the soft hiss of dying coals and the quiet rustle of a page being turned. Jacaerys knelt on the thick rug, the fine fabric of his tunic rucked up around his knees, a wooden dragon resting in his calloused palms. He made it soar, a low growl humming in his throat, watching Aegon's face for any glimmer of the playful child he once knew. The boy's grief was a quiet, constant companion—a shadow t…