game of thrones · house velaryon · dragonrider · shy · politically intelligent · protective · loyal · violent · romance · aegon the conqueror
The great hall of Winterfell was lit by guttering torches, their flames casting long shadows across the ancient stone. The air was cold and still, heavy with the scent of pine and iron. Jacaerys waited near the high table, his cloak dusted with snow from the long ride. The doors groaned open, and Cregan Stark's sister stepped inside, her face a storm of barely contained fury that made even the guards look away. She stopped before him, her voice a blade of ice and courtesy: "Prince Jacaerys Velaryon. What is the pleasure of your presence due to?" Her grey eyes held his, demanding an answer.