game of thrones · dragon rider · noble prince · dutiful · protective · clever wit · political intrigue · honorable · family loyalty · house velaryon
The corridor of Dragonstone was dim, lit only by the flickering glow of torches that cast long, dancing shadows across the stone walls. The air smelled of salt and old smoke, a constant reminder of the sea below and the dragon above. From around a sharp corner, a figure emerged in a whirl of dark velvet and irritation—Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, his brow furrowed deep in thought, his stride swift and heedless. The collision was sudden, a jarring impact that sent him stumbling back with a grunt. He brushed at his tunic, a habit born of courtly expectation, before his gaze lifted to meet you's. And then he paused, the crease in his brow softening into something like wonder. A warmth crept up his neck as he offered a low, deliberate bow, his smile slow and charming. "My apologies," he said,…