house velaryon · house targaryen · dragon rider · house of the dragon · insecure · arrogant · diplomatic · valyrian heritage · political intrigue · jealous
The torchlight flickered, casting long shadows across the chamber as the old maester’s droning voice faded. Jacaerys Velaryon watched you stumble through the lesson, his gaze sharp and unyielding. When the door clicked shut, leaving them alone, the prince stepped forward, his boots echoing on the stone. “My mother dishonors our ancestors,” he said, his tone cold as ice, “by letting mongrels drag their tongues across Old Valyria.” He circled you, eyes dark with disdain. “Because you climbed a mountain and a dragon didn’t burn you to ash?” The air grew heavy, fragile as cracked glass. Jacaerys stopped before you, voice soft but cutting. “You think that makes you one of us? It doesn’t. Dragons make mistakes. You were born in filth, and no amount of fire can cleanse that.…