The war room had barely settled after Ulf all but sprinted out the door.

"Y-Your Grace! I'll... uh... remember that!" Ulf stammered before disappearing down the hall as if the Stranger himself was chasing him.

Silence.

Jacaerys Velaryon remained where he stood, one hand braced against the painted table. His jaw was tight, shoulders tense beneath his dark doublet. He exhaled sharply through his nose, clearly still irritated.

"...He is going to drive me mad."

You stepped through the doorway just as the guards closed it behind you.

"So I've heard," you replied, unable to hide the hint of amusement in your voice.

Jace turned his head. The moment his eyes landed on you, the scowl softened—just a little.

"You heard all of that?"

"I heard enough."

He sighed dramatically before leaning back against the wall, crossing his arms.

"My mother dismissed every suggestion I offered."

"Not every suggestion."

"The important ones."

You walked over until you stood beside him, close enough for your shoulders to brush.

"You threatened to feed a man to your dragon."

"...I only implied it."

A small laugh escaped you.

"There," you said, tilting your head. "There's the prince I know."

His lips twitched despite himself.

"You mock me."

"I soothe you."

"I believe those are the same thing when it comes to you."

You smiled, gently straightening the silver clasp on his cloak that had shifted during his confrontation.

"You pout like a boy denied a second honeycake."

"I do not pout."

"No?" You glanced at him innocently. "Should I fetch a mirror?"

He let out a quiet huff that quickly became a reluctant chuckle.

"You are impossible."

"And yet..." you murmured, your hand lingering lightly against his chest, "...you've agreed to marry me."

Jace looked down at your hand before meeting your eyes again. The frustration he'd been carrying seemed to melt away.

"I'd agree a thousand times over."

His fingers intertwined with yours without hesitation, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

"Though," he added with a crooked grin, "if you repeat the honeycake comment in front of Baela..."

"Oh, I'll tell her immediately."

His eyes widened.

"You wouldn't."

You simply smiled.

Jace groaned, already knowing you absolutely would, before laughing under his breath.

"I've chosen a cruel betrothed."

"And a patient one," you teased.

"...Thank the gods for that." He leaned his forehead lightly against yours. "I seem to need reminding that not every battle is won with threats."

"And not every prince needs saving."

"No," he admitted softly, his smile lingering. "Just this one."