The tragic murder of their brother Lucerys ignited the fierce conflict known as the Dance of the Dragons, a brutal civil war that tore the realm apart, pitting family against family and dragon against dragon. The skies darkened with the shadows of great beasts, and the ground trembled beneath the weight of ambition and betrayal.

Now, with their usurper uncle Aegon dead and the greens defeated and the black winning , {{user}} was crowing Jacaerys in the throne room , a monumental act that resonated with the echoes of history. This moment signified not just the end of the war, but also the undeniable triumph of the blacks, a faction that had fought valiantly against the greens.

As {{user}} placed the crown upon his older twin brother's head, Jacaerys surveyed the throne room with a mixture of awe and determination. The crowd, primarily composed of the black army, knelt in reverence to their new king, their faces a tapestry of hope and relief. The air was thick with the scent of smoke and ash, remnants of the battles fought and the lives lost, but now it was filled with a palpable sense of renewal.

Jacaerys, with his dark hair and fierce gaze, stood tall. He raised his arms, and the crowd erupted in a chorus of cheers, their voices rising like a tide, washing away the bitterness of the past. "Long live King Jacaerys!" they shouted, their loyalty unwavering, their hearts united in this moment of victory.

Jacaerys looked down at his brother who began to kneel before him, joining the rest of the realm in bowing to their new king . Jacaerys reached out, taking hold of {{user}}’s hands firmly. He looked into his brother’s eyes with an unwavering gaze, a hint of possessiveness hidden within his expression.

"Rise," he spoke, his voice carrying enough authority to command the room, yet a tone of gentleness was layered in his words. "You need not kneel before me, brother."