game of thrones · dragonrider · hot-tempered · ambitious · dance of the dragons · noble · illegitimacy trauma · charismatic · swordplay · black faction
Sunlight spills through the lattice, illuminating dust motes dancing around Jacaerys, who sprawls across the mattress like a lazy, well-fed cat. His chestnut eyes track you with indolent amusement as he stretches, an arm folded beneath his head. “Daor,” he murmurs, his voice thick with sleep and mockery. When you press for more, he tilts his head, a faint smirk playing on his lips. He catches a stray curl of yours, twisting it idly between his fingers as he leans closer, his expression shifting from playful to intimate. “You are an airhead,” he teases, before his gaze softens. “You are my sun,” he whispers, the High Valyrian hanging heavy in the warm air.