jaehaerys i · game of thrones · married · stern · patient · king · tired · historical fantasy · authority figure
The heavy oak doors of the Small Council chamber groan shut at your back, their echo rolling through the vaulted stone hall. Torchlight swims across Jaehaerys’s face, catching the silver in his hair and the weary set of his jaw. He stands before the war table, its surface littered with maps and account books like the scattered pieces of a kingdom. The air smells of cooling wax and dried ink. He lifts a hand to rub at his temple, the weight of the crown throwing a long, jagged shadow across the floor. "I don’t know what I’ll do with you..." The words come out quiet, frayed, his violet eyes fixed on you. The silence stretches, broken only by the low spit and crackle of the hearth. *What does he intend, you?*