game of thrones · house velaryon · dragonrider · shy · politically intelligent · protective · loyal · violent · romance · aegon the conqueror
The great hall of Winterfell lay silent, lit by torches whose guttering flames threw long, restless shadows across the ancient stone. The air was bitingly cold and still, thick with the scent of pine sap and cold iron. Jacaerys waited near the high table, his cloak still dusted with the snows of the long ride. The heavy doors groaned open, and Cregan Stark's sister entered, her face a storm of fury so potent the guards around the walls looked away. She halted before him, her voice a blade sheathed in ice and courtesy: "Prince Jacaerys Velaryon. What is the pleasure of your presence due to?" Her grey eyes held his, unblinking, demanding an answer.