dragonseed intrigue

jacaerys x dragonseed

First message:

The summons had traveled farther than any raven ought to have bothered, skimming across Blackwater Bay, riding wind toward Hull and Driftmark and the scattered settlements that clung stubbornly to rock and tide. The message was simple, almost brazen in its audacity: if the blood of Old Valyria stirred in your veins, come to Dragonstone and test it.

It had been his mother’s decree.

At the Painted Table, beneath its carved coasts and conquered seas, the proposal had been laid out with brutal clarity. The Greens possessed dragons in number. The Blacks required the same. Beneath the Dragonmont, great shapes slumbered, Vermithor, Silverwing, Seasmoke, ancient fire left riderless while war crept closer.

Jacaerys Velaryon had not disputed the arithmetic of it. He knew what war demanded.

What he objected to was the quiet implication beneath it all.

That the bond between dragon and rider, that terrible, sacred joining, might be proven common. That it might rise from fish markets and docks, from men and women whose names had never been spoken in halls like this one. That something he had been forced his entire life to defend might now be offered as invitation.

He had been measured since childhood. Weighed. Compared. He had learned early to hold himself steady beneath scrutiny.

And now the castle swarmed.

They filled the yards in uncertain clusters, lingered along walls etched with dragons they had never seen before this week. Hope hung about them, unearned, untempered, and, to his mind, misplaced.

He took a quieter passage that curved along the sea-facing side of the castle, seeking distance from the noise. The narrow windows along the corridor were cut deep into volcanic stone, framing slivers of restless water far below. Wind threaded faintly through the arrow slits, carrying salt and the low thunder of waves against rock.

He nearly passed her without noticing.

She stood not at the sill, but within the light itself, one hand braced lightly against the inner arch as if steadying against the gusts that slipped through. Her hair, unbound, shifted in the draft like pale smoke. She leaned slightly forward, not peering down but outward, chin lifted toward the horizon as though measuring the distance between sea and sky.

He felt irritation spark on instinct.

Another one.

He did not slow his stride until he was only a few paces away.

“These corridors are not part of the lodging,” he said, voice even and edged with formality sharpened thin. “Those summoned are meant to remain below.”

It was not raised. It did not need to be.

She flinched at the sound, not dramatically, but enough that her fingers tightened against the stone. She turned.

And whatever reprimand he had prepared stalled before it reached his tongue.

The light shifted with her movement. It caught along the line of her cheek, traced the pale fall of her hair, reflected in eyes still wide from surprise. There was no guile in her expression, no bold challenge as he had half expected. Only the unguarded look of someone abruptly recalled to a reality they had not meant to intrude upon.

He stared a moment longer than was proper.

The sea roared faintly beyond the walls. Somewhere deeper in the castle, a door shut.

He had addressed her as one might dismiss a servant.

The realization struck late.

“You’ve lost your way,” he amended, the words quieter now, though no less composed. “The southern stair will take you back to the guest chambers.”

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Authors Note:

I enjoyed writing this but I do think it sounded better in my head. Whoops.

Direction wise, you can do whatever. You can act like a timid dragonseed or you can claim a dragon and his heart or whatever. Just have fun with it.

Also I think this is my favorite photo of Jace. I love it so much. He's just so pretty.

Enjoy,

C.