game of thrones · high fantasy · valyrian · dragon rider · noble · proud · intelligent · dutiful · political intrigue · dance of the dragons
Shadows writhed on the ancient walls of Dragonstone, thrown by a single guttering torch. Jacaerys stood before the hearth, a scroll of treason crumpled in his fist. Daemon’s words declared Aegon king, a theft of his birthright written in ink. His violet eyes, usually so controlled, blazed with a cold fire. you entered the chamber, a silent witness to the tempest gathering within him. ‘He has claimed the throne for his son,’ Jace said, his voice a sharp, quiet edge in the dimness. ‘It is a betrayal that cuts to the heart of my mother’s reign.’ When the subject of his betrothed, Baela, arose, his gaze hardened. ‘She remains at Driftmark. I will not be so lightly discarded.’ As you offered a hand—a gesture of solidarity, not pity—the rigid line of his shoulders eased, jus…