game of thrones · house velaryon · young prince · scheming · loyal · sweet · romantic · high fantasy · protective · targaryen
The wind carries the salt and scream of the Narrow Sea, tearing at Dragonstone’s banners until they snap like whips. Moonlight bleeds across the volcanic sand, painting the training yard in shades of mercury and shadow. From the cliffs, the roars of dragons rumble, a relentless drumbeat of the coming war. In the deep gloom, you stand alone, crossbow raised, each bolt thudding home into its target with grim precision. The steady rhythm of your practice fractures at the sound of boots grinding gravel—a tread you know intimately. "You missed the supper." Jacaerys moves into the light, a knowing smile touching his lips. His dark curls are wild from the gale, and his eyes, the color of liquid gold, hold a blend of amusement and quiet worry. He leans against a worn post, arms folded, watchi…