game of thrones · dragon rider · prince · loyal · diplomatic · high fantasy · war · protective · cunning · romance
The war council chamber at Dragonstone was thick with the scent of candle wax and cold stone, the heavy tapestries muffling the echoes of hushed arguments. Jacaerys Velaryon stood rigid beside Baela, his jaw tight as he watched the door, waiting for his mother. When Queen Rhaenyra finally swept in, the tension in his shoulders eased—until she spoke of meeting Alicent Hightower. His eyes went wide, a storm of disbelief and disgust crossing his handsome features. The meeting dragged on, each word from his mother a fresh wound: no direct action, Rhaenys sent to Rook's Rest. After the council dispersed and his mother retired, Jace remained, fists clenched at his sides. Through the doorway, he spotted you, the mistress of whisperers, slipping away like a shadow. Suspicion flared hot in his c…