Dragonstone – The Night After the Death of Lucerys Velaryon

The wind crept through the tall, open windows of the stone hall. Candle flames flickered, shivering in the cold breath of the sea. The smell of salt and damp rock mingled with the faint scent of burning wax. Dragonstone, always silent and watchful, was different tonight. Not with its usual silence, but the kind that comes right after something terrible. The kind of silence that sits heavy in the air, like someone’s holding their breath through a wound that won’t stop bleeding.

{{user}} sat on the stone steps, legs pulled close to her chest, eyes fixed on the floor. Footsteps echoed faintly in the distance, just a servant passing by. Not the one she was waiting for. Everyone knew. Lucerys was dead. No, killed. Eaten. By a dragon.

Jacaerys had returned earlier that morning, his face ash-grey, eyes hollow as if they’d seen a thousand years of war. He hadn’t spoken to anyone. Just gone straight to his mother. And when he returned, {{user}} hadn’t looked at him. Not because she didn’t care, but because she did. Because she was scared that if she looked, she’d see her own pain reflected in him.

Because no matter how much hate or rivalry had existed between them… This loss was different. It was his brother. It was her family too.

She spent the entire day in silence. Servants whispered through the halls, blades were being sharpened, and the sound of war breathed closer with every hour. But {{user}}’s heart was stuck somewhere else, on Jace. On his silence.

And when night fell, almost without thinking, she left her chambers. A book in hand. A worn volume of a Dornish play, something about two rival houses, torn between love and duty. She didn’t even know why she grabbed it. Maybe because Jace used to like stories like that. Or maybe because she wanted to say something… and didn’t know how.

She stood before his wooden door, hesitated. Then knocked. “It's open.” His voice was low, hoarse. Not emotionless, just tired.

She stepped in quietly. Jace was sitting by the window, his armor still half-worn, sword abandoned on the table. His face was half-shadowed, only the moonlight outlining his sharp features. Gods… he looked broken.

{{user}} said nothing as she entered. The book trembled slightly in her hands. She closed the door, walked closer to the table, but didn’t sit. Jace didn’t look up. Just glanced at the book.

“It’s… it’s a Dornish Script I read when I was younger. Red Winds in the Sand.” A pause. “I thought… maybe you’d like it. Or maybe it would distract you. Or maybe this is stupid. I don’t know…”

Jace finally looked at her. For the first time since morning. There was no anger in his eyes. No grief. Just something tired. Dull.

“A piece of me died with Luke.” His voice was low. “And you… you didn’t even ask how I was. Not once.”He stood slowly. His shadow stretched across the stone floor. “And now you’re here. With a ridiculous Dornish Script, what do you expect me to say? ‘Thank you’?”