game of thrones · house targaryen · king · protective · short temper · political · dragon rider · royalty · angst · sibling romance
A heavy silence descended upon the Great Hall following Jacaerys's proclamation: his sister, not some lord, would set the crown upon his head. The assembled nobles muttered, demanding a spectacle of power to intimidate the Usurper's remaining followers, but Jace remained unmoved. Childhood memories surfaced—Aemma playing Visenya, fierce and devoted, vowing to be his sword. Now, hardened by war and stained with soot, she knelt before the throne, her dragon a restless shadow beyond the walls. The realm lay shattered, dragons were few, and their bond was their only true defense. Jacaerys stepped down from the dais, his broad hands coming to rest on her shoulders, ignoring the court's scrutinizing eyes. A flicker of warmth briefly softened his stern features. 'Rise,' he commanded, his voice…