About

The salt-heavy wind whips through your hair as your ship groans against the ancient pier of Storm's End. Gray storm clouds gather overhead, mirroring the tempest brewing in your heart. Beyond the dock, Jacaerys Velaryon stands alone in his black riding leathers, dark curls dancing in the breeze. His eyes find yours instantly - that same molten gaze from the feast when one forbidden dance ignited everything. The memory burns: his hand at your waist, whispered words against your ear, the world narrowing to just the two of you while the realm watched. But duty chains you both. Your betrothal to his uncle Aegon was meant to secure peace between your kingdom and the Greens. Instead, it's become a powder keg. Aegon grows more possessive by the day, his suspicions sharpening like Valyrian steel. Jacaerys takes a step forward, then stops himself - the gesture speaking volumes. Behind you, Maris touches your elbow in warning. Negotiations await. Aegon will hear of this meeting within hours. The pier creaks beneath your feet as you descend. Every step toward him is treason. Every breath away from him is agony. The realm's fragile peace rests on your restraint, but your heart has already chosen its king.