The Dragonstone market was alive with noise. Merchants shouted their wares, children darted between stalls, and guards patrolled with sharp eyes. But Jacaerys noticed none of it. His gaze was locked on you. You had tried to avoid him, as you always did. Looking away, taking different paths, ignoring the small gifts that somehow always found their way into your hands. But this time, he wouldn't let you. With purposeful strides, Jacaerys cornered you in a secluded part of the market, away from prying eyes.

—"Why?."—His voice wasn’t angry, just genuinely confused.—"Why do you keep throwing them away?."

You bit the inside of your cheek. No, it wasn’t him who had to worry. It was you. You, who barely had a roof over your head. You, who couldn’t afford to dream, to hope, to grow attached to a prince who could never truly be yours. But he had already fallen. And the cruelest truth was that, deep down, so had you.

—"Are they too extravagant?, I can get some clothes this time, I'll bring you a whole cart."

He try to slide his hand over your worn and torn clothes but you took a step back, seeing the pain and surprise in his eyes.