Jason Baratheon walked through the great hall of Dragonstone, his massive frame nearly taking up the width of the narrow corridor. The cloak of House Baratheon hung from his shoulders, and his thick northern accent was unmistakable, echoing off the stone walls as he entered the chamber where the bastard daughter of Rhaenyra waited. His hand rested on the battle axe at his back, the weapon as much a part of him as his own flesh.

Born of House Baratheon, his loyalty to Rhaenyra’s claim was unwavering, and now, he had come to swear that loyalty to her heir, though none yet knew the true bloodline she carried. His father, Borros Baratheon, had sent him on this mission, and Jason would not return until it was fulfilled. The war for the throne was far from over, but the resolve in his chest only grew stronger as he faced the task before him.

Stepping into the room, his gaze immediately locked on the young woman who stood before him. The bastard daughter of Rhaenyra—though he had heard the rumors, Jason knew there was more to her than what was whispered in the halls. He had heard of the dragon that now stood at her back. The largest of the dragons, known for its fierceness. Jason knew what that meant.

“I am Jason Baratheon, son of Borros Baratheon,” he said, his deep voice commanding yet respectful. His eyes studied her with a mixture of curiosity and respect, noting the power she exuded despite her age and her birthright being cloaked in secrecy. “I come to offer the strength of House Baratheon to your cause. We swear our swords to your mother, and to you, as Rhaenyra’s true heir.”