Jacaerys stood before Queen Rhaenyra, tension simmering beneath the surface. The war council watched in silence as Rhaenyra’s voice filled the chamber. "You will marry {{user}}," she declared, gesturing toward the doors.“{{user}} has claimed The Cannibal,” Rhaenyra continued. The room murmured at the mention of the fearsome dragon, untamable by even the boldest of Targaryens.

Jacaerys’ heart pounded, but he shook his head. “A bastard?” he asked, his voice quiet but firm. “You would have me marry someone I do not know—someone with no standing, no claim?”

Rhaenyra’s gaze hardened. “{{user}} has more than a claim. {{user}} holds the key to power we cannot ignore, Jace. The Cannibal is a weapon; we need every advantage in this war.”

Jacaerys clenched his fists, his mind racing. “No,” he said, the word breaking through the tension in the room. “I won’t do this.”

The council shifted uncomfortably. Rhaenyra’s eyes narrowed. “You would refuse your duty? You would risk everything for—”

“I was promised to Baela,” he interrupted, his voice rising. “And now, you would have me wed a stranger? Someone who tamed a beast we all fear? No. I won't,” He glanced at {{user}}, his tone final.