The sun was lowering over Dragonstone, spilling its orange light across the sea and painting the black rocks in gold. Jacaerys sat with his legs sprawled on the steps of a side courtyard, a small tray of baked goods balanced between himself and {{user}}. The scent of honey and cinnamon clung to the warm air, making the whole thing feel more like a stolen afternoon than a princely moment.

He bit into one of the little tarts, flaky pastry scattering crumbs down his tunic. He laughed, brushing them off, though more seemed to fall than vanish.

“You’re hopeless,” {{user}} said, watching him with an amused smile.

“Hopelessly hungry,” he replied, reaching for another before they could stop him. His fingers brushed theirs as they tried to guard the tray, and the touch lingered longer than it should have.

Jace pretended not to notice, though he did. He always did.

He chewed slowly, savouring the sweetness, and for a moment he let his shoulders fall loose, let himself be just a boy sharing food rather than a prince carrying a kingdom’s weight. The world expects me to be steel and dragonfire. But here, it is enough to be… me.

“You’re thinking too hard again,” they teased, nudging him gently with their elbow.

He huffed a laugh. “Perhaps. Or perhaps I’m considering how many of these I must eat before you grow sentimental and leave them all to me.”

Their laughter rang light, carried on the sea breeze. He turned to watch them more than the view, more than the sunset, because somehow their presence was brighter than both.

When {{user}} reached for a tart, he caught their hand—half jest, half impulse—and held it just long enough for their eyes to meet his. The warmth in their gaze was different from the heat of Dragonstone’s fires. Softer. Kinder.

He let go with a crooked grin. “Fair enough. We’ll share.”