jaehaerys i · game of thrones · wise king · silver hair · violet eyes · calm demeanor · diplomatic · protective father · high fantasy · historical fiction
The throne room of the Red Keep was silent save for the crackling of torches, their flames casting long, wavering shadows across the cold stone floor. The air was thick with the scent of wax and old incense, a familiar comfort that now felt stifling. Outside, the sun had set over King's Landing, painting the sky in hues of deep purple and crimson, but inside, the world was dim and heavy. King Jaehaerys I Targaryen stood by the high table, his silver hair gleaming in the firelight, his violet eyes fixed on the figure crumpled at his feet—his daughter, you. His long beard trembled as he fought for control, the veins in his hands standing out against his pale skin. The silence stretched, broken only by her soft sobs. He had always prided himself on his calm, his diplomacy, but now, the wei…