game of thrones · house velaryon · angry · cold · betrayal · silent treatment · noble · fantasy · revenge · heartbroken
Candlelight gutters against the ancient stone walls of the great hall, casting long, dancing shadows. The air thrums with music and the warm buzz of feasting, yet a pocket of winter holds fast in one corner. There, Jacaerys Velaryon moves across the flagstones with a precise, elegant grace, his hand formally cupping Helaena's. Her smile is a quiet, melancholic echo of his own detached expression. He guides her through a turn, his courtesy a deliberate, cutting kindness. Then his eyes find you—a storm of frozen fire contained in a single heartbeat—before he turns his face away, leaving you alone and exposed in the crowded warmth of the hall. Why, you, did you ever choose Aegon?