The black sand beneath their feet was cool, the sea’s gentle whispers filling the quiet spaces between words. Dragonstone’s shores stretched endlessly under the starlit sky, the moonlight painting the waves in shimmering silver. Jacaerys walked at a leisurely pace, his hands loosely clasped behind his back, listening as the companion shared thoughts and musings, their voice soft but unguarded.

His gaze never wavered. Dark eyes followed every word, every subtle gesture, as though memorizing the moment. There was no effort to disguise it—just an intensity that carried no burden, only quiet admiration.

Eventually, the companion stopped mid-sentence and turned to him, catching that unbroken look. There was a brief hesitation, then a small laugh, light and teasing.

“You stare too much,” {{user}} said, tilting their head, an eyebrow raised. “You haven’t looked away once.”

Jacaerys blinked, as though the words had pulled him from a dream. A faint flush crept to his cheeks, visible even in the pale light.

“I wasn’t staring,” he said quickly, glancing out toward the sea. His tone held a note of protest, but it wasn’t convincing

When Jacaerys finally dared to glance back, changing the subject of their conversation, there was a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes, quickly masked by a smile. “The stars are bright tonight, aren’t they?” he added, changing the subject with a practiced ease that didn’t quite match the moment.