#&& harwin strong

[jacki567]

𝗦𝗔𝗙𝗘𝗧𝗬 (𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙖 𝙛𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧)

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: 𝙎𝙚𝙧 𝙃𝙖𝙧𝙬𝙞𝙣 𝙎𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙤𝙛 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙣 𝙛𝙞𝙚𝙧𝙘𝙚𝙡𝙮. 𝙃𝙞𝙨 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙙 𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙘𝙪𝙩 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙩, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙧𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙣 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚... 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙂𝙤𝙙𝙨 𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙘𝙧𝙪𝙚𝙡

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴; 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙣𝙞𝙘!𝙃𝙖𝙧𝙬𝙞𝙣 𝙎𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙭 𝙙𝙖𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙚𝙧!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

The love between a father and his daughter could often be a complicated one, but to Ser Harwin Strong it was anything but. The love he felt for his daughter was constant, a roaring ferocity that could rival the temper of Aegon the Conqueror’s very own dragon, Balerion. Since the moment she had been placed in his arms, the moment his brown eyes clashed with her lilac eyes, everything had made sense. He wasn’t born to be his father’s heir, to become a lord of a boring old castle… no.

Ser Harwin Strong was born to be a father.

He could never be ashamed of this. He desired to be a father more than he ever wished to rule over a castle that was haunted by the memories of previous generations that had committed heinous acts. When he was surround by his children; three sons and one precious daughter… what more could a man possibly wish for?

Y/n Velaryon had been the image of her mother in personality. From their stubbornness, their rebellious nature and their sharp tongue that could tear into the skin of their enemies, many believed that Rhaenyra had given birth to another version of herself in all but looks, but Harwin had been able to see parts of himself in his daughter.

Her brown hair was the same shade as his own head of curls, her mischievous smile that she wore when up to no good resembled his own cheeky grin, her protective nature over her family was just like his protectiveness over his brothers, and even the way she played with stray strands of fabric that hung from her clothes when nervous, that was all Harwin.

Y/n Velaryon was her mother’s daughter without a doubt, but to Harwin she would always be his precious little girl.

-

The day that Harwin had attacked Cole, after Cole had insulted his children and their mother, the day that he had been forced the step down from his role as Lord Commander of the City Watch was an incredibly painful day for Harwin. This was not because he had lost an honourable position within the Seven Kingdoms, but because his father had made the decision to send him back to Harrenhal in order to mould him into a suitable heir that would inherit Harrenhal one day.

Harwin would be forced to leave all of his children behind. He would scarcely be able to send ravens in fear of them being intercepted which would cause harm to his children and Rhaenyra. And most of all… he would never get to see his children grow up into honourable men and a beautiful, strong young woman.

The news of Ser Harwin’s leaving had left many upset, but none had been more upset than Princess Y/n Velaryon.

“Stay,” her quiet voice was full of hurt but Harwin was able to hear the commanding tone which caused him to stop and look down at her. “I-I am a Princess, the future Heir to the throne. Grandsire will listen to my wishes. H-He never denies me—.”

Harwin’s face relaxed as a soft smile appeared on his lips. He crouched down beside Y/n, speaking low but loud enough for Y/n to hear him clearly.

“I appreciate your kind words, Princess, but the choice I made to defend yourself, to defend your brothers and to defend your mother came with consequences, consequences I would gladly suffer in the name of protecting you.”

Y/n’s lilac eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she bit her bottom lip, a sign that she was close to breaking her composure.

“Then I shall send Cole away, too. H-He started all of this! He’s the reason that you are leaving! He’s the reason that you are leaving me!” Y/n lunged forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, her tears soaking his tunic. “Please don’t leave me…”

The last word made Harwin’s world stop.

“Father.”

Harwin pulled away as if he had been burnt. The one word that he had wished for any of his children to call him, no matter how selfish it would make him, had finally been said.

He looked down at Y/n with shock, and she returned his gaze with a tearful smile.

“Ser Laenor is my Papa, but you are my father.”

Tears of joy and love flowed from his eyes as Harwin pulled Y/n back into his arms. He would never forget this moment, the moment that he was finally recognised as what he had always wished to be.

He would never forget.

Not when saying his final goodbyes.

Not when returning to Harrenhal.

And not even as he took his final breath within the fiery depths of Harrenhal.

In his short lifespan, Harwin had gained the one thing he had wanted most of all; a family of his own. And his sweet little girl, his precious Y/n, made that very clear to him. He only wished that all of his family would live long, happy and fruitful lives before they would reunite with him.

Yet, the Gods were ever so cruel.

-

Harwin had fbeen reunited with Lucerys first. His small figure was soaking wet and shivering, his skin pale and sunken, and his right arm completely missing. Harwin had seen many disturbing sights in his lifetime, but none compared to the sight of his son.

“Lucerys.”

The boy turned around, his scared eyes relaxing slightly at the sight of Harwin. Within seconds, Lucerys’ appearance changed into a healthy looking young boy. His skin was full of colour, his missing arm returned, but he was still terrified.

“Aemond. Vhagar,” Lucerys whispered. “I left her. She will never forgive me.”

Harwin approached him and gently placed his hand on Lucerys’ shoulder, the young boy flinching. Harwin’s heart broke as he moved his hand away.

“Who will never forgive you?”

Lucerys looked up at him. “Y/n. When you died, she never forgave you. You left us, abandoned her when she begged you to stay… And now I’ve done the same.”

Sobbing rang throughout his ears, the heart wrenching sounds belonging to his mother and his sister.

“Your sister will never hate you,” Harwin told him. “Y/n will avenge your death. I know she will, because she is my blood,” Harwin looked Lucerys in the eyes. “You are my blood. That much I know for sure.”

-

The second to greet him was Jacaerys. His firstborn son, his little boy. His son resembled Lucerys when he first arrived, wet to the bone, skin pale and sunken, but his body was covered in crimson blood, puncture wounds covering his arms, his neck, even his face, making it clear how he had been killed. His brown hair was matted against his forehead and his face was filled with anguish.

“No! I promised them! I swore I would return safely!” Jacaerys yelled into the sky. “Return me to them! Baela is awaiting me! Y/n is calling me! Mother needs me! Send. Me. Back!”

Yet, Jacaerys’ appearance changed into a handsome young man that Harwin swore resembled himself in his teenage years.

“The Gods are cruel, my son,” Harwin told him, approaching him full of caution. “They take and they take, no matter who it hurts the most.”

Jacaerys finally looked to Harwin, his own brown eyes meeting very familiar brown eyes. However, Jacaerys had changed from the sweet boy that Harwin knew.

“And yet the Gods choose to make Mother suffer! To make Baela lose her love! To make Y/n lose another brother! What kind of Gods allow this to happen?!”

Harwin stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Jacaerys, who stiffened in his arms. And just like his sister many years before, Jacaerys broke down into sobs.

“You will reunite with them soon enough, my son,” Harwin whispered. “This, I swear to you.”

-

Next came Joffrey, his body bent and broken, missing many limbs. Scratches littered his soft skin, sections of his brown curls had been pulled off of his scalp. His body was covered in crimson liquid, and Harwin wasn’t sure where Joffrey wasn’t bleeding from. Compared to Lucerys and Jacaerys, Joffrey had died a slow, painful death at the hands of the Small People.

“My sweet son,” Harwin whispered in horror. “What have they done to you?”

Joffrey looked to Harwin, no recognition in his eyes, only fear. His body tensed up, his broken bones causing him to yelp in pain.

“Don’t hurt me! Please, I have nothing left!” He sobbed, believing that he was still alive and that Harwin wished to cause him harm. “You have taken everything, I-I have nothing.”

Joffrey’s voice was full of defeat, his body shaking with sobs as he clutched his head, rocking back and forth as he repeated his words.

The last time Harwin had seen Joffrey was when he was just born, and now he was a young boy, too young to suffer the causes of war, and too young to die the way he did. With his eyes filled with pain, Harwin crouched down beside Joffrey.

“I would never hurt you,” his voice was soft, but completely serious, which made Joffrey look at him. “We have met once before… after your birth. You won’t remember me, but your elder siblings have told you stories of me, especially Y/n.”

At the mention of his siblings, Joffrey’s began to sob once again.

“Jace! Luke! Y/n/n is all alone now!”

Joffrey allowed Harwin to hold him as he cried for his siblings, mourning Jace and Luke, and crying for the fate of Y/n.

“Your sister is strong, little one,” Harwin spoke softly. “She won’t be alone. She has young Aegon and Viserys, and she has your Mother.”

Joffrey sniffled as he looked up at Harwin. “Ser Harwin. Y/n told me stories of you.”

Harwin’s eyes filled with tears at the mention that Y/n actually had told stories of him to Joffrey. Yet, Harwin bit back his sobs and smiled down at Joffrey. “Come, let us reunite with your brothers.”

With that, Joffrey’s appearance changed into a boy that resembled Lucerys. His pudgy cheeks were soft once again, his skin unblemished, his head of curls intact. He had accepted his death, and now he could only move on with his family.

-

Harwin didn’t expect to meet the lilac eyes of his daughter so soon. He cautiously stood at a distance, his eyes taking in her appearance. Her clothes were burnt to a crisp, her hair completely gone, her once smooth skin scared by the fire of a dragon. Her hands were clenched by her sides, her lilac eyes the only thing that made her recognisable.

“Y/n…”

Y/n wasn’t able to cry, the pain too intense. She could barely move her lips, but she managed even though her voice was broken, barely audible.

“F-Father?”

Harwin broke into sobs at the sight of his girl. “My precious daughter, what have they done to you?”

Y/n’s eyes watered, but no tears were able to fall.

“Sunfyre. Had to protect Mother and Aegon…” her lips formed a smile. “Mother can rule now.”

With that, Y/n’s appearance changed into the form of her previous self. The previous image of herself before she had flown to Dragonstone, before she had jumped off of her dragon and before she had sacrificed herself in her Mother’s place. The last sight she saw was her Mother’s horrified look as Y/n’s dragon bit the head off of Sunfyre and burnt everything around him, mourning his rider’s death.

“My precious, brave girl,” Harwin smiled tearfully, hugging her tightly. “Why did you have to return so soon?”

Y/n pulled back and looked at him. “Why did you have to leave me so soon?”

Harwin rested his hand on her cheek, rubbing his thumb across her cheek. “I shall never leave you again.”

And Ser Harwin spoke the truth.

He never left her again.

[silverwingxox]

born to marry him, forced to read fanfics about him

[nikinikori]

“My son, do not be over bold or rash; be cautious, keep within the bounds of propriety, and protect our home and family.”

— "The Odyssey" by Homer

[manny-jacinto]

'Did you think I would have dark hair?'

[aemondwive]

The way EVERYONE was happy about Joffrey's birth... baby Joff you will always be loved!

[sihtryggr]

sometimes a family is a gay man, his wife, her boyfriend and their three comunally raised children.

[allyriadayne]

House Strong during the Dance of the Dragons

[wolfienation]

big brown eyes. long dark hair

rhaenyra targaryen. you have a fucking type

[gameofthronesdaily]

HARWIN holding his son, JOFFREY (1.06) JACAERYS holding his brother, JOFFREY (2.01)

[imthefkgsupreme]

"He was gentle and fierce. They called him Breakbones. He loved us I think"

[nicetoseesofttotouch]

This is what I call a glow up.

[prideprejudce]

the fact that we are going to have to sit through multiple alicent/crispy scenes this season and didn't even get ONE harwin/rhaenyra scene last season is a crime

[hauntedfictionland]

❝His dear princess❞

☾︎✰❛❀ Jacaerys Velaryon x Fem! Reader!

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Jacaerys did not want you, or the vow he was bound to for life. Yet when he makes a big mistake, and potentially loses you for good. He realises just how much you meant to him.

𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬/𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Bastardphobia, mentions of death and grief, kissing, marrage of convenience and grumpy X sunshine trope, Jace is down bad, flirty!reader, guilt and anxiety and happy ending;)

🪐𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: This is one of my first house of the dragon fics ever, so I truly hope it's not too bad. Jacaerys is one of my favourite characters in hotd after Alicent so I really wanted to get his characteristics and behaviour right. Also, I didn't like the way they showed his grief after Luke died, as if he just moved on after two or three days. But overall, I enjoyed writing this:)

Jacaerys was infuriated with you.

You—his betrothed, acted like you owned the castle as soon as you strutted in. Speaking with no formality and a sharpness in your tongue that only infuriated him further. And especially when you did not seem to care for his heritage, who he was. The heir to the iron throne. Yet you acted as if he didn't exist to you. As if he meant nothing to you.

A marriage pact with the martells was only one of convenience. You, a princess of dorne, he, the firstborn son of queen Rhaenyra. Yet, they were stuck in dragonstone, and needed support to match the strength of the green armies. His mother needed this arrangement more than the martells did, and you made that very clear by acting carelessly and so freely, like you were in your own home. By taunting him, sitting at the great council table with your legs on them, a coin in your fingertips and a smirk in your lips. He hated it, he hated especially how good you looked.

He hated being betrothed to you already.

Rhaenyra had told him martells were rather, open and modern people. They took part in adultery even after being married, especially with the consent of their own partner. He did not know how anyone could be okay with such acts. He did not know what to expect when he met you, but it certainly wasn't how you commented on his face, calling him one of a beauty. It was inappropriate, calling a prince by such bold remarks on the first meeting, yet you did not seem to care.

But what edged him to his limit was the day you called him a bastard.

Jacaerys had been worried, he couldn't find you anywhere. Not that he cared, he was just stressed you would create another ruckus. He looked around everywhere, the garden, the great council, the dining hall, your room, even his room, but you were nowhere to be found. His chest tightened, a restlessness growing in his stomach. It seemed he always felt that way without being with you for too long. Not because he missed you—of course, but because he wanted to ensure everything was going smoothly.

He was going around circles, head spinning with a feeling that made him uncomfortable. Where were you? did you flee the castle? or were so bored of him you went to the city to a brothel in search of another man to keep you company. Anger and jealousy filled in his chest at the mere thought of that.

Jacaerys did not seem where he was going, many thoughts inside his head, before he harshly opened a door to the library. And to his surprise, there you were, a book in your hand. ‘Adventures of Aegon the conqueror’, he could read the name of the book by how you were holding it. He felt he could breathe again. By the loud sound of the door opening your head flitted towards him. Your usual smirk growing up your lips. Something that made his heart flutter in a way he didn't want it to. He clenched his jaw, holding his fists in a tight ball.

“Where have you been?” he asks, desperate tone in his voice.

“Ah, Prince Jacaerys.” you smile, closing the book and turning your attention towards him. He hated how your eye lashes fluttered, your hair falling down in just the perfect way. “I've been gaining some Targaryen knowledge, as you can see. Since we are to be married, I thought I should know my husband's family. Don't you think?”

Husband.

That word rose heat to his cheeks, quickly clearing his throat.

“I'm not your husband.” he spoke, in a tone harsher than he intended, “At least not yet anyway.”

You smile wider, making his heart race. He was always a bit stubborn, and uptight. Yet you were always so carefree and light, always so kind with his demise. He didn't know what to make of it all. A curious look grazed upon your face, eyebrows furrowing. You sat up, walking onwards another shelf of books, lips pursued. Before looking at him.

“I have always wondered, hmm,” you say, your finger coming up to your lips, “do tell me prince Jacaerys, is it true that you were born out of wedlock?”

His eyes widened, “What did you say to me?”

You either did not notice the offend and defensiveness in his tone, or simply pretend not to. Turning to look at him, “I mean, all Targaryen children have white hair. Do they not? Even if they did not, none of your formal parents have black, dark hair like yours.”

His breath hitches, all of the insecurities he had contained in a jar of fireflies fled out the second you brought out his hair. A wall rising inside him. You were acting as if you just did not ask the most dangerous question ever. As if it did not matter to you.

“How dare you insinuate such filthy claims?!” his voice rises, almost shouting. Your eyes flicker surprise for a moment, before turning back to the usual stoic look.

“Ah, you are offended.” you state, as if he shouldn't be, “I meant no harm, my prince. I have no problem with you being a bastard. In fact, it only makes you more interesting. The thing I don't like is your distaste for the truth. One should own up to who they are.”

Bastard.

You, called him a bastard. He isn't able to speak for a moment, too tongue—tied. You....think of him this way too? you? he can't hear as you speak further, a ringing in his head. It only intensifies. Only when you start talking about dorne is when he snaps back from his haze.

“And I have thousands of brothers and sisters back in dorne, no one cares ther—”

“I don't care, what you dornish do back there, but here you don't speak to me with filths of a claim.” he grits, his voice cold, “I am the queen's son. And if I hear you say one word about that again, I will see you hanged.” his words held so much malice in them, one would believe it to be true.

Of course, he could never actually do that, the blacks needed martells armies more than ever. His mother couldn't afford them raging war at her and joining the green's side. And, he could never harm you either. It was just a baseless threat, one he said out of anger and insecurity. He immediately regretted it when he saw the look on your face; hurt. But even worse, fear. Before he could even begin to take them back, it was too late. Your spot, where you stood, was already empty.

You had seen him less and less after that. Of course, you were your usual self. Taunting and teasing him, but something was off. Something distant. He hated it. He hated how much he missed it. Your remarks, your witty replies, your cockiness. He wanted it back. He wanted you back.

Next time he sees you, it's in a completely unexpected place. Dragon—pit. He was about to ride on Vermax to patrol the skies, when he stops. There you were, sat on the hard rock, legs swinging at the edge of it and his dragon's head in your hands. You..you were feeding him. “What the hell do you think you're doing?!” he shouts, eye wide.

You turn your head to him, a smirk on your lips grows. You enjoyed the fact he was on his nerves, furious.

“What does it look like? I'm feeding this cute little angel right here.” you coo, talking to his dragon in a baby voice. Vermax was known for her temper, yet with you it magically dis—appears? a little bit inside him was flustered, heart beating faster than ever that you and his dragon, a very important part of his life, bonded flawlessly. But he shrugs it off, he has to. Flushing over you isn't his duty.

Protecting you is.

As much as he would like to deny it, you're his now. Lawfully so. And he wouldn't let anything happen to you. Especially Vermax. He wouldn't know how to live with himself if his own dragon were to be the cause of, of.. your demise. His throat burns, even the mere thought of harm coming to you feels as if he's being drowned to death. After Luke, he cannot lose anyone. Jacaerys cannot lose you. Even if that was the first thing he tried to do after meeting you. You were the most part of his frustrations yet the only thought when he's in his bed at night.

“Have you lost your mind?” he asks, his voice harsh, as if you were his child and he was scolding you for doing something childish.

“Have you had no fear? you could have died what were you even thinking?!” you falter for a moment, upon seeing the trembling of his hands and the tightness in his voice.

“Jacaerys—”

“No!” he interrupts you, “You, you could have been...do you even realise..”

Your eyes widened as he struggled to even breath, huffing for air anxiously. You quickly get up, walking towards him. He's so much inside his head that he doesn't notice your hands coming up his face, slinging through his dark curly hair. An act that slowed and claimed his beating heart down. Your soft palms make contact with both his cheeks, a peaceful shush in your voice and he finally breathes. Properly. He sighed, eyes closing as his hands came up to hold yours.

This, you, him? this felt oddly peaceful. This felt like home. Vermax watches the whole interaction with a quiet huff, turning away back to the pits. You nudge closer towards him, resting your forehead against his. Love. This felt like love. “Promise me” he starts out, his voice low and timid, “promise you will never do that again.” Instead of putting on a fight like you usually do, you nod, gently caressing his cheek. His head leaned further into your touch, putty in your hands.

“I promise.”

That, gives him great relief. “Good.”

Time seems to slow down, Jacaerys could count every freckle on your nose to cheeks, every small cut in between your knuckles or lips, every curve of smile you put on. And all the scents coming from your body that drove him crazy. You notice his lips still trembling, and above your judgement, you decide to kiss it better. He inhales a sharp breath as your lips touch his, but makes no movement to push you away. It's gentle, barely brushing against his. Jacaerys realised how they fit perfectly amidst his, and how much he was craving it all these months until he finally tasted them.

You slowly pull away, hesitantly. His eyes are still closed. Hands crawling up your waist. He speaks again, a whisper almost.

“I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

He's talking about the library, and you smiled softly, shaking your head.

“It's okay. You can't get rid of me that easily, Jace. Should have known that when you got betrothed to a dornish princess.”

You had already forgiven him. But he didn't want you to. He didn't want to be at your mercy this easily, not when he wasn't able to forgive himself. You, you had crept your way into his heart when he didn't want you to, and now he never wanted to let you go. It was all your fault.

“No I...” he shakes his head, “I never should have said that. Not only because it was so wrong but also because it was completely untrue.” Jacaerys swallows his breath, every bit of him wanted to turn away and never look back, but he couldn't do that. “I have been called names, about my heritage. Ever since I was a child. About my parenting and what not. And it's very...when anyone talks about it, it's like a bandage ripping off a new and fresh wound. No matter how many years pass by, it's still like that for me.”

You nod your head slowly, in understanding. This was raw. He had finally told you one of his darkest parts, his worst fears, and you hadn't run away.

“I understand. I should have never said that. I did not know it was like this for you.” He feels relief in your words.

But there was still something he needed to let out.

“But I...” he didn't know how hard this was for him until he started to actually say it, “I really could never mean it. What I said. Even if you have committed the worst treason or crime, even if you had taken my heart and carved it out, I still wouldn't be able to do one thing that might be even close to harming you. Believe me I have tried. And I have failed.”

He looks away from you, cheeks closing red. Jacaerys had just poured his heart out and gave it to you. But the chances of you, and feeling the same? were very dim. He sees stars when he sees you, what do you see? just him? or even worse? a filth in the name of a true born prince. A gasp leaves his lips as your fingers trace the outlines of his jaw, trailing down to his neck to his chest. You stopped at the red and black three dragons symbol made on the polish cloth he wore.

“Why do you think I agreed to this marriage? not because of this.” you point to the very symbol engraved on his chest, of the house targaryen, “If it was just for this, I certainly would have never.”

He turns his head back to you, confusion in his face. He also feels a bit of guilt in him. At first, he only agreed to this pact because his mother had no choice. Because of your house. Nothing else. And you're saying that his house didn't even matter to you when you agreed to this betrothal? then why? you did not even know what he looked like, and you simply agreed?

“Why then?”

That's the question that's now left in him. Why, if his house and title didn't matter?

“Well,” your lips curl up, a glint in your eyes, as a blush arose your cheeks, “From years I had heard stories of Targaryen princes. How arrogant and unkind they were, your cousins, Aegon and Aemond, well I certainly didn't hear anything good about them. And then you came. The velaryon prince, the son of the realm's delight, born with a kind heart and a fierceness to protect. I knew I had to marry someday, but I only agreed to marry you because I knew—you wouldn't mistreat me. Because I fell in love with the stories of the dark haired prince who had the most beautiful brown eyes ever, who protected his brother when he was a child himself, who stole my heart before he even claimed it.”

Jacaerys doesn't know what to say, his throat falls dry. It doesn't feel real, when he's wanted something so dearly and someone just gives it to him freely; it does not feel real. You do not feel real. But you are. He knows you are when your hands tug at his collar, his face close to you as you pull him towards you and your breath fanning on his cheeks. He knows this is real, and it's better than any dream he's ever had.

“I do not want our marriage to be an unhappy one.”

You say, a plea in your voice.

He smiles, wide. And he doesn't even have to make an effort this time, “For me, the words unhappy and you? well they don't go in the same sentence.”

That seals it for you, he can see that. As you kiss his words, an unspoken understanding and passion in it. Jacaerys realises he could get used to this. Kisses, hugs, reading each other books, waking by the warmth of your body besides his; in fact, there's no one else he'd rather do it by. And nothing he would want more.

𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑓𝑢𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑡, 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝑚:) 𝐼 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑎𝑙𝑠𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑖𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑟𝑒𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑎𝑠 𝑖𝑡 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛! 𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑟𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑠 𝑠𝑜 𝑑𝑜 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑖𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑒.

[nikinikori]

[...] the mother, says about her son, "You got his sweet ways" when she sees the same kindness in her son that his father had.

— "Beloved" by Toni Morrison

[manny-jacinto]

'And... Ser Harwin Strong?'

[muadweeb]

mhmm...