#Lucerys velaryon x fem!reader smut | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aeralux · 3 months ago

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Dumb & Poetic 2- Lucerys Velaryon

(part one/part two)

Modern!Lucerys x Reader

Summary: A clash of egos. A rich boy and a scholarship girl. Sounds like a match made in hell. So, obviously, your professor pairs you up for the semester's most important project. A week alone on the sea with the entitled Lucerys... How ever would you survive?

Modern!AU; Enemies to Lovers; Collage!AU

Warnings: SMUT 18+; masturbation (m! and f!); mentions to vaping; sexting; slight Addam x Reader; oral (f! receiving); anal play (he literally just touches the hole a few times, nothing goes in); foul language (no degradation); creampie (reader is one the pill); nipple play; big D! Lucerys (tall guys are 9/10 packing)

Words: in this part 20k (all smut basically OOPS)

Notes: No description of the reader (just that she has hair). English is not my first language. Technically this could be read on its own also. There is a love confession in this one FINALLY. RISE MY LUKE GIRLIES; RISE I SAY!!!!! If you do not agree with any of the warnings, do NOT read.

As you stood outside your dorm, duffel bag slung over one shoulder, you took a long drag from the vape Baela had gifted you, the sweet flavour of apple dancing on your tongue. You couldn't help but think about Lucerys' texts from earlier in the week, the ones that kept replaying in your mind like a broken record.

"I've sailed through storms far worse than any limits your boy could imagine...". Was he taking a jab at Addam? Probably. The arrogance of that man, always needing to one-up everyone and everything. But then again, Lucerys had always been a bit...much. Intense and overwhelming in every way.

You took one last pull from the vape, the smoke curling from your lips as you exhaled. Then, with a deep breath, you squared your shoulders and set your bag in front of you. And as much as you hated to admit it, you couldn't wait to see what would happen.

Lucerys pulled up to your campus in a sleek, black Mercedes, the silver accents glinting in the morning sun. He had risen early to oversee the final preparations for your journey, determined to ensure everything was perfect. As he stepped out, his eyes immediately found you, drinking in the sight of your form and the way the sunlight caught the strands of your hair.

Lucerys approached you with a confident, almost arrogant stride, a smug smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. He bowed low, his eyes never leaving yours as he reached for your bag. "Good morning, princess," he murmured, his voice low and smooth like velvet. "I trust you slept well?" He straightened up, holding your duffel bag in one strong hand. His other hand reached out to take yours, his long fingers curling around your palm in a possessive grip.

Lucerys led you to the car. He opened the door for you, a flourish of gentlemanly gallantry that made you feel a flicker of something suspiciously like admiration. He had always been so arrogant, so infuriatingly self-assured. But he had his moments, moments when he almost seemed... like a real man.

As you settled into the soft leather seat, Lucerys slid beside you, his long legs stretching out. He turned to you, a slow, wicked grin spreading across his face as he started the engine.

"I hope you don't get seasick easily, baby," he murmured, his voice low and heavy with unspoken promise. His eyes met yours, a dark, intense look that made your heart skip a beat in your chest.

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on your glossed lips as you turned to face Lucerys. "Baby? Since when did princess turn into baby?" You teased, your voice dripping with sarcasm. You could feel the rumble of the engine beneath you.

Lucerys' eyes flicked to yours, a wicked glint sparkling in their depths. You could see his jaw clenched, the muscle twitching slightly, as he fought back a retort. But you weren't going to let him get to you that easily. No, you had to stay strong and keep your wits.

You settled back against the leather seat, crossing one leg over the other. The skirt you wore riding up just a fraction, exposing a sliver of thigh. "I hope you have good music taste," you continued your tone light with an undercurrent of challenge. "The port's about half an hour from here, and I am not about to listen to shitty music for that long."

Lucerys paid no attention to your words, his blood running hot as he watched you cross your legs, the hem of your sundress riding up to reveal a glimpse of soft skin. He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry as the desert. It made him want to pull over and kiss that smirk right off your face until you were breathless and panting, asking for more.

You reached out, your fingers hovering over the touchscreen display. You could feel the heat of Lucerys' gaze on you, and practically hear the gears turning in his head as he tried to devise a suitable response. But you paid him no mind, focusing solely on scrolling through the radio station options, determined to find something worthy.

"Don't worry, princess, I have excellent taste in everything," he murmured, his voice low and heavy with unspoken meaning.

He turned his attention to the road, his eyes narrowing as he merged onto the highway. The speedometer climbed steadily. Lucerys glanced at you, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth as he reached out to turn up the volume on the radio.

The sound of classic rock filled the car, a familiar guitar instrumental, making you smile. Lucerys bobbed his head slightly to the beat, his fingers tapping against the steering wheel in time with the music. "This is one of my favourites," he said.

You smirked as the opening riff of Creep filled the car, rolling your eyes at Lucerys' predictable musical choice. "Of course you would listen to Radiohead," you teased, rolling your eyes. You inhaled deeply as the salty sea breeze rushed through the open window.

Glancing over at Lucerys, you couldn't help but admire him behind the wheel. His strong hands gripped the steering wheel, and his veins showed clearly. As your eyes trailed over his chiselled features, you felt a flutter in your stomach, a feeling you tried desperately to dismiss.

But as you watched him, you couldn't help but imagine those strong hands on your body, exploring every curve and contour. You shivered slightly at the thought, a warmth spreading through your core as you squirmed in your seat. Would his touch be rough and demanding or slow and teasing?

You crossed your legs tightly, trying to ignore the growing ache between your thighs. You could feel your panties growing damp as dirty thoughts filled your mind - Lucerys pinning you against the wall of the cabin, his hard bulge grinding against your ass as he ripped your dress off with a growl. The image made you bite your lip as you pressed your thighs together even harder, desperately trying to relieve some of the pressure building there.

You knew you shouldn't be thinking such filthy thoughts about your best friend's cousin, but you couldn't help it. There was just something about Lucerys that brought out parts that craved to be claimed and fucked until you couldn't walk straight. You just prayed that he couldn't read your mind and see the lewd fantasies playing out there because if he did...

Lucerys glanced at you, noticing how you squirmed in your seat. He couldn't help but smirk as he caught you admiring him, your gaze lingering on his hands gripping the steering wheel. He knew exactly, what you were thinking, and could practically see the dirty thoughts.

"Is the music not to your liking, princess?" Lucerys asked, his voice low. He didn't take his eyes off the road, but he could feel the heat of your gaze on him, burning into his skin. He knew you were admiring his body.

"No, I like it," you replied with a casual shrug.

Unbeknownst to you, Lucerys was lost in thoughts about you, far more intense and depraved than you could ever imagine. The air between you crackled with unspoken tension as his gaze lingered on you, revealing a desire beneath the surface of his composed exterior.

Lucerys's cock twitched in his pants as he thought about sliding his hand up your thigh, feeling the heat of your skin and the dampness of your panties. He wanted to tear them off and expose your glistening pussy, rubbing his fingers along your slick folds.

He could feel your velvety walls clenching around his fingers as he pumped them in and out, his thumb circling your clit. His other hand would be busy groping your tits, pinching and tugging at your nipples until they were stiff little peaks.

Lucerys's cock was rock hard now, straining against the confines of his pants. He wanted to free it, to take your hand and wrap it around his thick shaft, showing you just how big and hard he was because of you.

He wanted to make you stroke him, to feel your soft hand pumping his hard cock as he thrust into your fist. He wanted to hear you moan as he fucked your hand, his hips snapping forward again and again until he came all over your fingers.

But more than anything, Lucerys wanted to bury his face between your thighs, to inhale the scent of your arousal as he licked and sucked at your clit. He would bring you to the brink of orgasm with his mouth before sinking his hard cock deep inside your tight, wet cunt and fucking you until you screamed his name.

He knew he should focus on the road, on getting you to the port safely. But all he could think about was bending you over the back seat and taking you from behind, pounding into you with all the lust and desire that had been growing between you for months.

You sighed in relief as the port finally appeared, the marina stretching before you. At least there would be more room on the yacht, some much-needed breathing space from the charged atmosphere between you in the confines of the car.

As Lucerys pulled into a parking spot and put the car in park, you turned to him with a curious arch of your brow. "So... which one is yours?" You asked, nodding towards the various vessels bobbing gently in the water. The yachts ranged from modest sailboats to luxury mega-yachts.

Lucerys smirked confidently, as he followed your gaze towards the marina, a glint of pride in his eyes. He stepped out of the car and walked around to open your door, offering his hand to help you out. As you took it, he led you towards the dock, his stride purposeful and self-assured.

"The Sea Dragon," he declared, gesturing grandly to a massive, opulent yacht that dwarfed some of the surrounding vessels. It was a magnificent sight. The name "Sea Dragon" was emblazoned in elegant, gold-leaf lettering.

Lucerys couldn't help but puff up with pride as he watched your eyes widen in awe. He lived for moments like this - showing off the wealth and status of being a Velaryon. And he especially loved seeing that look of wonder on your beautiful face, knowing that he was the one who put it there.

"She's a custom build," he explained, his voice thick with superiority. "Nobody else has a yacht like her."

As you both approached the bridge, Lucerys placed a possessive hand on the small of your back, guiding you aboard. The deck was polished to a mirror sheen, and the railings were made of intricately carved, polished wood.

"Welcome aboard," he murmured, his lips curling into a smirk as he led you towards the salon. Inside, the space was even more breathtaking - all rich, plush fabrics, gleaming woods, and state-of-the-art technology. A grand staircase swept up to the upper deck, and floor-to-ceiling windows offered stunning views of the surrounding sea.

"This is... incredible," you breathed, taking in the sight before you.

Lucerys grinned at your reaction, looking immensely pleased with himself. "I'm glad you like it," he said, his voice low and smooth.

But what caught your eye was the master suite at the back of the boat. The king-sized bed dominated the space, dressed in crisp white linens and a mountain of pillows. You could picture Lucerys sprawled out on that bed, his dark hair against the white sheets, his brown eyes burning into yours as he beckoned you to join him...

Lucerys followed your gaze to the master suite, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he noticed where your attention had been drawn.

"Wait..." you exclaimed, a sudden realisation dawning on you. Your gaze darted around the area. A frown creased your brow as you looked up at Lucerys, disbelief written across your features. Did he honestly expect you to share the same bed with him, just like that? The very idea sparked a whirlwind of bewilderment and desire within you.

Lucerys leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, his grin widening at your expression. “Something wrong, princess?” he asked, his voice dripping with mock innocence.

You turned to him, narrowing your eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” you said, gesturing toward the bed. “This... this cannot be the sleeping arrangement.”

He shrugged, his brown eyes twinkling with amusement. “It’s the only room with a bed. Unless you’d prefer to curl up on the carpet, this is your best option.”

Your mouth opened and closed as you struggled to find the words. “My best option? Are you out of your mind? We can't just sleep next to each other.”

“Oh, we can,” he said, stepping closer, his grin turning downright devilish. “The question is whether you’ll manage to get through the night without tossing me overboard.”

Heat rose to your cheeks as you tried to ignore the mental image his words conjured—Lucerys beside you, his warm, solid presence just inches away. You folded your arms across your chest, raising an eyebrow in defiance. “I’m serious, Lucerys.”

He stepped closer, his voice softening, though his teasing edge remained. “Look, you're sleeping next to me, princess,” he said, gaze locking onto yours. “We’ve got work to do, and we’ll both need sleep to keep the boat running. So unless you want to start hallucinating from exhaustion, I suggest you suck it up and deal with it.”

You hated how logical he sounded, even when he was infuriating. “Fine,” you said through gritted teeth. “But we’re drawing a line. A big, imaginary one, right down the middle of the bed. You stay on your side, I’ll stay on mine.”

Lucerys raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching with suppressed laughter. “You’re seriously suggesting a pillow wall?”

“Exactly,” you said, grabbing a few pillows from the bed and piling them in the centre like a makeshift barricade. “Cross this line, Velaryon, and I swear—”

“You’ll what?” he interrupted, his voice dropping just enough to make your breath hitch. “Hit me with another pillow? I’m trembling.”

You scowled, ignoring the heat in your cheeks as you shoved the last pillow into place. “Just stay on your side,” you snapped, turning away to unpack your things.

Lucerys watched as you busied yourself with unpacking, a smirk still playing on his lips. He couldn't help but chuckle softly at your huffiness, finding your irritation adorable. As you bent over to put your bags away, he let his gaze linger on the curve of your ass, remembering how he had imagined gripping and squeezing it just moments before.

You straightened up and turned to face him, catching him staring. Lucerys quickly looked away, trying to hide his smug grin. "Is there something on your mind?" you asked sarcastically, folding your arms.

Lucerys shrugged, still smirking. "No, nothing at all," he lied smoothly, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "I was just thinking about how comfortable that bed looks. I might take a little nap."

With that, he sauntered over to the bed and flung himself onto it, stretching out languidly. He made sure to take up more than his half of the bed to rile you up. Lucerys closed his eyes and pretended to doze off, a small smile on his face as he listened to you moving about the room.

Despite his feigned sleep, Lucerys couldn't stop his mind from wandering to inappropriate places. Lucerys shifted slightly, feeling his cock starting to harden at the thought of burying himself deep inside you. He bit back a groan, trying to will away the unwanted arousal.

Lucerys forced himself to focus on something else, anything else. He was in deep trouble, and he didn't know how he would get through the next few days without losing control.

You glanced at the clock, noting it was only 10 AM. You smirked as you snatched a pillow from the bed, throwing it at Lucerys' prone form. "Wake up, sleepyhead," you called out teasingly, "We have a schedule. The weather's perfect for setting sail."

Lucerys startled, his eyes flying open to meet yours. You couldn't help but feel a rush as his gaze raked over your body.

You turned and sauntered onto the deck, the warm sun and salty air enveloping you. You tilted your face to the sky, letting the sun kiss your skin.

You knew Lucerys was probably watching you, and you could feel his eyes burning into your back. A secret smile played at the corners of your lips as you walked to the railing, looking out at the blue waters stretching before you. The yacht gently rocked with the waves.

Lucerys followed you onto the deck, his gaze locked onto your retreating form. He couldn't tear his eyes away from your hair dancing in the breeze.

As he approached you, he noticed how the wind had made your sundress flutter, giving him a tempting peek at your smooth, toned thighs. He swallowed hard as he imagined running his hands along your legs, inching higher and higher until he reached the heat between your thighs.

Lucerys stepped beside you, leaning against the railing and mimicking your pose. He could smell the salt and sunscreen on your skin, a combination that made his head spin. "It's a beautiful day, isn't it?" he murmured, his voice low and smooth.

You glanced over at him. "It is," you replied, turning your gaze back out to the horizon. "We should head out now. We have a schedule to upkeep."

Lucerys nodded, his eyes still lingering on your profile. "You're right," he agreed, straightening up and heading towards the bridge. "I'll just go set up everything in. the cockpit."

"I'm trusting you with my life here," you teased, flashing him a playful grin. "Don't screw this up."

His smirk widened at your words. "Don't worry, princess. I know exactly what I'm doing," he said, his voice dripping with arrogant confidence.

Rolling your eyes, you reminded him of your schedule. "We must be at the next marina by 2 AM at the latest. Don't you dare make us late."

Lucerys just laughed as he turned to head towards the bridge, leaving you alone on the deck. You watched him go, admiring the way his hair fell across his forehead.

Shaking your head, you returned to the berth, setting your clothes and the snacks I had brought in your bag. You popped a seasickness pill, hoping it would be enough to keep your stomach settled on the long journey ahead. The last thing you needed was to spend the entire trip with your head in the toilet.

Taking a deep breath, you slipped a sheer swimsuit cover-up on. You knew it would drive Lucerys crazy, but you couldn't help yourself. It was hot and sunny, and you would not sweat the entirety of the day.

Lucerys couldn't help but let his gaze linger on your figure as you made your way towards the cabin, admiring how your swimsuit was visible from under the sheer fabric. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of you.

Lucerys gulped, feeling his cock stir to life in his shorts. He could see every inch of your tanned skin on display, from your toned legs to the swell of your breasts. The way the fabric of your swimsuit hugged your ass.

He forced himself to look away and focus on preparing the yacht for departure. Lucerys double-checked the navigation system to ensure it was in good working order.

As he was about to head out, he paused, glancing back at you. You looked like a goddess, and he felt his heart race just looking at you.

He imagined pushing the fabric to the side and exposing your tits to the sun and his hungry gaze. His cock was rock hard now, tenting obscenely in his shorts. He palmed himself through the fabric, groaning softly as he thought about burying his face between your tits.

Lucerys knew he couldn't keep thinking like this. He needed to focus on piloting the boat, not on fucking you senseless. But the way your bottoms rode up between your legs made it hard for him to concentrate.

Taking a deep breath, Lucerys rubbed his bulge a final time before you made your way next to him.

You glanced at Lucerys, biting your lower lip nervously as you sat beside him. You could feel his eyes roaming over your body, taking in every curve accentuated by the thin fabric of your swimsuit and coverup.

"I, um, hope you don't mind," you stammered, a blush spreading across your cheeks as you tugged at the hem of your coverup. "It's just so hot out and I wanted to be comfortable. I hope that's okay..." Your voice trailed off, and you looked down, suddenly feeling shy under his intense gaze.

You couldn't help but squirm a little in your seat as you felt his eyes lingering on your body. The way he was looking at you made you feel both excited and apprehensive at the same time.

Trying to change the subject, you cleared your throat and nodded towards the GPS screen. "Have you set up the navigation yet? We should start heading to the next port soon." You kept your tone casual, but there was an undercurrent of tension in your words.

It was an ongoing game of push and pull between you. From heated glances and shy smiles to flirtatious banter aimed at provoking one another, it was driving you crazy. You couldn't help but wonder: Was it having the same effect on him?

Lucerys's gaze flicked away from your body and back to the GPS screen as you spoke. He swallowed hard, trying to regain his composure and focus on the task. "Don't worry about it," he said, his voice slightly strained. "You look... nice." He caught himself before he said 'hot', not wanting to risk making you even more uncomfortable.

"Yeah, navigation is all set," Lucerys replied gruffly, grateful for the change of subject. He pointed to the screen, highlighting the route they needed to take. "We'll sail for about 8 hours before reaching the next marina. We have already planned the course and I have checked the weather forecast."

As he spoke, Lucerys couldn't help but let his eyes wander back to your exposed skin. He imagined sliding his hands over your waist, feeling the dip of your hips as he pulled you closer.

"So, besides teasing the hell out of me, what do you have planned for the journey?" he asked, his tone coming out more flirtatious than he intended.

He smirked at you, leaning back in his seat and stretching his arms behind his head. This caused his t-shirt to ride up slightly, exposing a strip of his toned stomach.

You glanced at him, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of your glossy lips. "I was actually wondering if you could show me how to steer the boat," you said, arching one brow. "Just in case you get tired and I don't accidentally throw us off course," you added with a teasing lilt to your voice.

As you spoke, you leaned forward slightly, giving him an enticing view of your chest.

"I know this is expensive equipment and everything, but I'm a quick learner. I promise," you continued. "Besides, it might be fun to take control... for a change," you sighed, letting the double meaning of your words hang in the air between you.

Lucerys's gaze lingered on your breasts for a moment longer before snapping back to your face. He felt his breath hitch as you leaned forward, your tits just inches from his face.

"You want to steer the boat?" he asked, his voice slightly hoarse. He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. "I mean, I'm not sure if that's the best idea. This is a complex vessel, requiring a lot of skill to navigate properly."

He tried to think logically, but you were making it hard to do so. And even though he might not admit it, he did think you were smart and capable of steering the yacht.

"Alright, princess, I'll show you," he said, slightly rough. He could feel his mind reeling at the thought of you taking control, of you directing the boat - and perhaps directing him.

He stood up, gesturing for you to take his seat. As you brushed past him, he caught a whiff of your scent. It made his head spin and his cock throb, squeezing his eyes shut.

Lucerys watched as you settled into the captain's chair, your legs spread slightly apart. He imagined kneeling between them and burying his face inside your wet, tight cunt.

Shaking his head, Lucerys took your hand in his, guiding it to the wheel. "Okay, princess, here's what you need to do..." he said, his voice low and smooth. "Keep the boat steady and straight, just like this."

As you sat in his seat, Lucerys reached out to place your hand on the wheel, his fingers brushing against yours. He guides your hand to grip the wheel properly, his breath catching slightly at the contact.

"Okay, so first thing's first - you always want to keep your eyes on the horizon," he instructed, leaning in closer to point at the distant line where the sea met the sky. As he did, his chest pressed lightly against your shoulder, his breath warm against your ear.

"And your grip should be firm but not too tight," he continued, his voice lowering to a murmur. "You have to be in control, but not so much that you're fighting the boat's natural movement."

"Just like that," he purred, his lips grazing your earlobe. "Keep it steady, princess. Don't let anything distract you from the task at hand."

Your heart raced as the boat cut through the glistening waves, the salt spray misting your skin. You gripped the polished wood wheel tightly, your knuckles white, as you stared straight ahead at the horizon. The sun glared brightly, reflecting off the blue sea. You blinked rapidly, trying to keep your focus.

A shiver ran down your spine as you felt Lucerys' strong hands cover yours, guiding the wheel. His touch was electric, sending tingles up your arms and straight to your chest. You had to bite your lip to stifle a moan that threatened to escape.

"Am I doing good?" You asked softly, a tremor in your voice. Your pulse pounded in your ears as you waited for his response, praying he couldn't hear it. You didn't dare look at him, afraid you would lose control. Both control of the boat and control of yourself in his presence. The heat of his body against your back was intoxicating. You inhaled deeply, trying to calm your nerves.

Your hair whipped around your face in the breeze, bits sticking to your gloss. At this moment, all you cared about was impressing him, pleasing him. Making him proud.

You prayed he didn't notice how flushed and flustered you felt, how desperately you wanted to lean into his touch. You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry.

"Please, just tell me I'm doing okay," you breathed out, your voice barely audible over the roar of the engine and the crashing waves. You needed his approval and craved his validation.

Lucerys leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. "You're doing amazing, princess," he murmured, his voice low and smooth. "Keep your eyes on the horizon and your grip steady. You've got this."

His hands remained covering yours on the wheel, his fingers intertwining with yours. You could feel the rough calluses on his fingertips.

Lucerys's chest pressed against your back as he leaned over you, his breath hot on your neck. "Just like that," he purred, sending shivers down your spine. "You're a natural at this."

Despite the heat of the sun and the breeze off the ocean, you felt a different kind of warmth spreading through you at his praise. Your heart raced as you tried to focus on the horizon. But it was hard to concentrate on anything else with Lucerys's strong body pressed against yours.

"Lucerys, I..." you started to say, but your words trailed off as you lost yourself in his closeness. Your breath hitched in your throat as you felt his lips brush against your neck, barely a touch but enough to set your skin on fire.

Lucerys seemed to sense your reaction, and he pulled back slightly, giving you some space. "You're doing great," he said, his voice a little rougher than before. "Just keep going like this, and we'll be at the next port in no time. Just follow the route on the screen."

Lucerys couldn't take his eyes off you as you confidently steered the boat, your hair whipping around your face and your skin glistening in the sun. The way you handled the wheel with such ease was incredibly sexy, and he felt his cock twitching again in his shorts as he watched you.

He knew he needed to get ahold of himself before he did something rash. Clearing his throat, Lucerys excused himself. "I'll be right back," he said gruffly, stepping away from the captain's chair.

"Yeah... Are you okay?" you asked him, slightly concerned for his sudden need to leave. All you received in reply was a curt nod as you watched him walk toward the bathroom.

Lucerys quickly walked to the lavatory, shutting the door behind him. As soon as he was alone, he let out a low groan, palming his aching cock through his shorts. He couldn't believe how turned on he was, how desperate he was to fuck you right then and there.

Lucerys unzipped his fly, freeing his thick, hard cock. It sprang up, already leaking pre-cum and throbbing with need, making him whimper. He wrapped a hand around it, stroking it slowly as he thought about burying it inside you.

Lucerys gripped his cock tighter, pumping it faster as he imagined you bent over the captain's chair, your bottoms pushed aside as he rammed his thick shaft deep into your dripping pussy. The image of your ass bouncing against his hips as he fucked you hard and fast, making lewd slapping sounds echoing through the cabin.

Lucerys stroked his cock faster, the lewd sounds of his hand pumping his shaft filling the small bathroom. He gritted his teeth as he pictured you spread out before him, your top ripped off to expose your perfect tits, your nipple stiff and begging for his mouth.

"Fuck..." he whined, squeezing his dick tighter as he imagined licking and sucking at your nipple, rolling it between his teeth and tugging on it. He wanted to mark your soft flesh, to leave his claiming bites all over your body.

Lucerys continued to stroke his aching cock faster, panting softly as he lost himself in his lustful fantasies of you. He imagined you looking back at him over your shoulder with those piercing, lustful eyes as he pounded into you from behind, your tits bouncing with each powerful thrust of his hips.

He could almost hear your needy moans and cries of pleasure as he fucked you harder and faster, his balls slapping against your clit. His hand moved like a blur on his shaft, squeezing and pumping, chasing the release he so desperately craved.

"Shit, fuck..." Lucerys grunted under his breath, feeling his orgasm fast approaching. His cock throbbed and pulsed in his grip as he imagined filling your tight cunt with his hot, thick seed. He wanted to pump you full of his cum, to watch it leak out of your stretched, fucked-out hole as he pulled out.

With a final, harsh thrust of his hips, Lucerys came undone. Thick, creamy ropes of cum erupted from his cock, splattering against the bathroom wall and floor as he rode out the intense waves of his climax. He gripped the edge of the sink tightly, his knuckles turning white as he struggled to stay silent, not wanting to alert you to his lewd activities, slumped against the wall, trying to catch his breath as he came down from his intense orgasm.

After a few intense moments, Lucerys finally caught his breath. He grabbed some tissue paper to clean up the mess he had made, wiping his softening cock and throwing the soiled paper in the toilet before flushing it away.

Lucerys took a few deep breaths, trying to regain his composure before stepping out of the bathroom and making his way back to the main cabin.

He couldn't help but feel a rush of desire and shame as he watched you, remembering the fantasies that had just played out in his mind. He knew he needed to get ahold of himself before he did something rash.

You glanced over at Lucerys, your brow arched in concern as you took in his dishevelled appearance. "You alright? You rushed off pretty suddenly," you teased, your voice laced with playful worry. "Don't tell me the big, brave captain is getting seasick?" You smirked, your eyes sparkling with mischief as they raked over his wind-tossed hair and flushed cheeks.

Your hands still gripped the wheel, keeping the boat on course as you studied Lucerys intently. You couldn't help but feel a thrill at the thought that maybe, just maybe, his sudden disappearance and dishevelled state had something to do with you. The way he looked at you, with those dark, hungry eyes, made your heart race and your skin prickle with goosebumps.

"Seriously though, are you okay?" You asked, your tone softening with genuine concern as you searched his face for any sign of illness or distress. "We're in the middle of the ocean, and I don't fancy swimming back to shore if something happens to you," you joked, trying to lighten the mood.

As you spoke, you couldn't help but let your gaze linger on his broad shoulders and muscular arms, remembering the feeling of his hands covering yours on the wheel. You swallowed hard, pushing down the flutter of nerves and excitement in your chest.

"Just say the word if you need a break," you added, your voice a little breathless. "I can handle the helm for a while longer." You flashed him a warm, encouraging smile, eager to ensure he was all right and ready to continue our journey together.

Lucerys felt his cheeks flush even redder at your teasing question, realising that his sudden disappearance must have seemed suspicious. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to play off his apparent flustered state.

"No, no, I'm fine," he said, forcing a laugh. "Just needed a moment. Too much sun, I guess." He shrugged, hoping that excuse would suffice. He couldn't exactly tell you the real reason - that he had snuck off to jerk off in the bathroom because he was so fucking turned on by you.

Lucerys's gaze drifted down your body, taking in the tantalizing peek of your cleavage that was on display thanks to your leaned-forward position. He had to force himself to look away before he lost control and pounced on you right then and there.

"Thanks for the concern though," he said, his voice strained. "I really do appreciate you taking the helm. It's impressive, seeing you handle the wheel with such confidence." His eyes flicked back to your face, his expression softening with what almost looked like admiration.

Lucerys knew he needed to pull himself together, to act like the seasoned sailor and not a horny teenage boy. "Just keep going like this, princess," he instructed, his voice low and smooth. "Nice and steady. You're a natural at this."

"This looks good on you," Lucerys murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Seeing you captaining the boat with such confidence... fuck, it's kind of sexy." He swallowed hard, realising he had spoken his thoughts out loud.

Lucerys quickly stepped back, clearing his throat. "Uh, I mean... you look good doing anything," he corrected, trying to backtrack. "But I like seeing you in your element like this."

He knew he was treading on thin ice, saying things that flirted with the line of propriety. But he couldn't help himself when it came to you. Every moment in your presence felt charged with a crackling energy, an electricity that made his skin tingle.

You whipped around as you stared at him in disbelief. "Did I hear that right? Did you just call me... sexy?" You asked, your voice pitching up in an incredulous giggle.

Lucerys felt his cheeks burn even hotter at your unbelieving reaction to his slip of the tongue. He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly feeling like a teenager again instead of a man.

"Don't read too much into it," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "It was just a slip of the tongue." He tried to brush it off, but the way he avoided your gaze made it clear he was lying.

Lucerys shook his head slightly, trying to dislodge the lustful thoughts. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," he said, his voice a little strained. "I just... I think you're beautiful. But I shouldn't have said it out loud like that." He rubbed the back of his neck, looking away in embarrassment.

Despite his flustered state, he couldn't deny the way his cock hardened in his shorts at the thought of grabbing your tits, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh. He wanted to dip his head down and take one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking and licking until it hardened under his tongue.

"Anyway, just focus on steering the boat," he said, his voice a little hoarse. "The faster we get to the next port, the faster we can... get some rest." The last two words came out a little strangled, betraying the true meaning behind them - that he desperately wanted to fuck your brains out.

You reluctantly stepped away from the wheel, your arms aching from gripping it for so long. "Alright... you can take over," you said, your voice a bit strained as you stretched your arms above your head, trying to work out the kinks. "My arms are starting to cramp up."

As you moved aside, you couldn't help but glance at Lucerys, a hint of shyness in your eyes. You fidgeted with the hem of your short coverup, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his intense gaze.

"I can keep you company though if you want," you offered awkwardly, your cheeks flushing slightly as you switched your gaze between him and the floor.

Lucerys felt his cheeks burn even hotter at your shy offer, realizing you must have noticed his flustered state. He quickly shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck in a nervous gesture.

"No, that's okay," he said, trying to sound casual even as his voice came out a little strained. "I've got this. I'm used to navigating on my own, with or without... company."

Lucerys took a deep breath, trying to collect himself. "Why don't you go and... relax for a bit?" he suggested, gesturing vaguely towards the cabin. "You've earned a break after steering us this far."

He forced a smile, hoping it would put you at ease even as he internally cursed himself for his evident awkwardness. He knew he needed to get a grip before saying or doing something he would regret.

Lucerys couldn't help but let his gaze linger on your body as you stretched, your cover-up riding up to expose a strip of your midriff. He swallowed hard, his mouth going dry at the glimpse of skin. Fuck, you were gorgeous, and he was quickly losing his ability to think straight around you.

"I'm fine, really," he said, his voice rougher than he intended.

Lucerys knew he needed to regain his composure before he acted impulsively, like pulling you into his arms and kissing you until you were both breathless. He had to remember his place, even though every fibre of his being screamed at him to cross the line and take what he desired.

Instead, he approached the wheel and gripped it firmly as he gazed at the horizon, trying to concentrate on anything other than the alluring sight of you. "I'll call you if I need anything," he promised, his tone slightly strained.

You hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty crossing your face as you searched Lucerys's expression for any hint of what you might have done wrong. "Okay..." you replied softly, a slight frown tugging at your lips.

Puzzled and slightly hurt by his sudden dismissal, you turned and wandered slowly towards the bedroom, your bare feet padding softly on the polished wooden floor. You could feel his gaze on your back, burning into your skin as you retreated.

Lucerys let out a low groan as he watched you walk away, his eyes glued to the mesmerizing sway of your hips and the tantalizing peek of skin. He hated feeling like he had to push you away, but he knew it was for the best. He couldn't trust himself not to act on his basest instincts around you.

As he gripped the wheel tighter, he took a deep breath, trying to will away the throbbing ache in his cock. It was hard to focus on anything but the urge to march into that bedroom and take what he wanted from you.

Reaching the bedroom, you climbed onto the plush bed, the silky sheets cool against your sun-warmed skin. You laid back, staring up at the ceiling.

As you lay there, you couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between you, the easy company and flirtation of before replaced by a sudden tension. Did you say something wrong? Did you offend him? The thought made your stomach twist uncomfortably.

However, your contemplation was interrupted by a loud ding from your phone.

"Heyyy! How's the trip, beautiful?"

A text from Addam. You giggled as you read his message, blushing like a schoolgirl at the endearment. At least someone still found you charming and desirable.

"Heyy! The trip is going well atm. Lucerys has been surprisingly okay... so far"

You attached a selfie you had taken earlier, showcasing your round ass in the skimpy swimsuit as you posed provocatively in the mirror. You knew he wouldn't mind seeing that.

Addam's eyes widened as he saw the seductive selfie you had sent, his heart pounding in his chest at the sight of your gorgeous ass barely contained by the scanty swimsuit. He licked his lips hungrily, feeling his cock stiffen in his pants as he drank in every delectable inch of your curves.

"Fuck, you look good enough to eat," he typed back, his fingers trembling slightly as he tried to focus on the screen. "I wish I was there with you right now, bending you over and fucking that pretty ass until you screamed."

Addam's cock throbbed insistently in his pants as he stared at the photo, his mind racing with filthy thoughts of all the things he wanted to do to your sexy body. He palmed himself through his slacks, biting back a groan.

"God, I want to grab two big handfuls of that perfect ass and spread your cheeks apart, exposing your tight little holes. I bet that hot cunt of yours is dripping wet right now, desperate to be filled by a thick, hard cock," he typed back, his breath coming faster as he imagined pinning you down and pounding into you without mercy.

Addam knew he shouldn't be saying vulgar things, but he couldn't help himself. The sight of your gorgeous curves consistently reduced him to a lust-crazed beast. "I want to fuck you so hard, right there on that bed. I bet Lucerys is just as turned on by you as I am - has he tried anything yet? I wouldn't be surprised if he couldn't resist your charms any longer."

He hit send, hoping you would understand the intensity of his desire, even as part of him felt a pang of jealousy at the thought of you with Lucerys.

You gasped aloud as you read Addam's scandalously suggestive message, your cheeks flushing a deep pink. You couldn't believe he had actually written such vulgar words! The Addam you knew was always such a perfect gentleman. Had your trip with Lucerys brought out a hidden, carnal side of him?

With trembling fingers, you rapidly typed a teasing reply, hoping to stoke his jealousy and desire.

"You'd be happy to know he hasn't tried anything... yet. But I don't know how long he could resist me. You should have used your chance when you had one ;)"

You hit send before you lost your nerve, biting your lip to stifle a giddy giggle. The knowledge that you had Addam worked up into such a frenzy sent thrills of excitement racing through your veins. You knew you shouldn't lead him on like this, but you couldn't help yourself. You were feeling bold and you craved the attention.

You felt a damp patch appearing on the crotch of your bottoms, and you shivered. Addam's crude words had gotten you embarrassingly aroused. You squirmed on the bed, squeezing your thighs together as you imagined Lucerys's hands instead, groping your ass just like Addam had described. The thought of him pinning you down and fucking you hard sent a rush of wetness flooding your core.

You nervously glanced at the time, realizing you still had hours left until you reached the pier. Suddenly, being cooped up in the bedroom seemed far too dull. You had to find a way to pass the time.

Addam's heart raced as he read your teasing reply, his cock throbbing almost painfully in his slacks at the thought of Lucerys resisting the urge to fuck you senseless. He couldn't blame the guy - if he were there with you, he knew he wouldn't be able to hold back from pinning you down and burying his face between your thighs, lapping at your dripping cunt until you screamed.

"Fuck, you can't say shit like that and expect me not to go crazy," he typed back, his fingers flying over the keys. "If I was there, I would have already had you spread open and begging for cock, you teasing minx. I bet that pretty little pussy is fucking soaked right now, isn't it? Desperate to be filled and stretched by a big, hard dick?"

He paused, trying to collect himself before continuing. "I should have never let you go on this trip. I should be the one pinning you down and pounding into your needy cunt until you're screaming my name. Instead, I'm stuck here, achingly hard and leaking just from thinking about Lucerys seeing you in that sexy little swimsuit."

Addam's heart pounded as he hit send, hoping his message would stoke the flames of your arousal. He desperately wished he could be there with you right now, worshipping every inch of your glorious body until you were writhing and begging for his cock. But for now, he could only keep talking dirty to you, imagining you getting wetter and hotter with each filthy word.

You whimpered aloud as you read Addam's shamefully lewd messages, your core clenching with need. "Fuck," you gasped, your hand drifting down to cup your aching sex through the damp fabric of your bottoms. You bucked your hips desperately, trying in vain to find some relief from the throbbing ache between your thighs.

"Addam, you can't tease me like this! :(" You sent back, your fingers trembling as you typed out a pouty message. His vulgar words had you dripping wet, but it was Lucerys's touch you craved. You were trapped on this damn boat with him for a week, and you had no way to relieve the constant, gnawing desire burning through your veins.

You squirmed on the bed, squeezing your legs together as you imagined Lucerys finally snapping and pinning you down, yanking your swimsuit to the side, and sinking his hard cock deep into your soaked, needy cunt. The thought made you moan, your fingers pressing harder against your cloth-covered slit.

But alas, it was just your fingers, not Lucerys's, bringing you closer to the edge. You were stuck in this cabin, at the mercy of your lewd fantasies and a frustrating lack of satisfaction. You just prayed you could make it through the rest of this trip without completely losing your mind.

Addam's eyes widened as he read your desperate plea. He couldn't stand the thought of you suffering from such an intense, unfulfilled desire.

He paused, trying to find the right words to soothe you even as his own cock throbbed insistently, aching to provide the relief you craved.

"If it gets too bad, baby, don't hesitate to take matters into your own hands," he messaged, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "I want you to touch yourself for me, to imagine it's my fingers sinking deep into your hungry little holes as I finger fuck your cunt until you're dripping and begging for more."

Addam's heart raced as he typed out his scandalously suggestive message, his cock pulsing with need as he imagined you touching yourself for his viewing pleasure. He knew it was wrong to encourage such wanton behaviour, especially since you were stuck on a boat with his rival, but he couldn't help himself.

"Fuck," you typed, sinking your fingers deep into your soaked, needy cunt as his filthy words sent shocks of pleasure racing through you. "It feels so fucking good, but I can't help imagining it's your big, thick cock stretching me open instead."

You bucked your hips, plunging your fingers in and out of your dripping sex as you pictured him and Lucerys taking turns fucking you senseless. The mental image of the two tall, handsome men using you like a little toy, their hard cocks claiming your hungry holes over and over, made you throb with desire.

"Mmm, I'm so fucking wet thinking about you and Lucerys taking turns pounding into me until I'm a brainless, cock-drunk mess," you wrote. "Please Addam, I need your touch so badly. I wish it was your fingers sinking into my tight little pussy right now."

Addam groaned as he read your passionate, erotic message, his cock jerking in his pants as he imagined sinking his fingers deep into your dripping, needy cunt. He couldn't believe how brazenly you spoke of your fantasies involving both him and his competitor. It was so wrong, but it only made him want you more.

He paused, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he typed out his following message. "You like the idea of Lucerys and I taking turns pounding into your tight little holes, don't you? Of us using your sexy body for our pleasure, fucking you senseless until you're nothing but a brainless, cock-drunk slut?"

He paused, his cock leaking pre-cum into his boxers as he imagined the delicious sight of your slick walls gripping his cock hungrily. He started palming himself slowly over his slacks, groaning at the friction.

You gasped softly, sinking two fingers knuckle-deep into your soaked, aching sex. Your hips bucked instinctively, as you plunged them in and out, coating them with your dripping arousal. The obscene wet sounds of your fingers pumping into your hungry cunt filled your ears, making you flush with humiliation and lust.

"Fuck, I'm so fucking wet," you panted silently, trying to muffle your desperate whimpers. You couldn't let Lucerys hear you touching yourself like this, couldn't let him know how you were shamelessly fucking yourself on his boat.

Not that it mattered - the expensive silk sheets beneath you were already damp with your juices, a tangible testament to your shameful need.

"Please," you silently begged, even as a part of you felt guilty for lusting after Lucerys while toying with Addam. Tossing the phone to the side to focus on bringing yourself to a peak.

As Lucerys steered the yacht towards the setting sun, he couldn't help but hear strange noises coming from the berth. Mewling and soft whines stemming from behind the bedroom door.

Curiosity overcoming him, Lucerys quietly approached the bedroom door, pressing his ear against it to listen more closely. The sounds of your soft moans and the slick, wet noises of fingers plunging into a dripping cunt filled his ears, making his cock immediately stiffen in his pants. He swallowed back a groan as he realized it was you touching yourself.

Lucerys stumbled back from the door, his face flushing bright red as he processed the incredibly erotic sounds coming from within the bedroom. He couldn't believe his ears - was that really you, moaning and panting so desperately as you fingered your needy little cunt? You had always turned down his subtle advances yet now you were fucking yourself on your shared bed?

His cock started to slowly harden in his pants as he listened to the obscene wet sounds of your fingers pumping in and out of your soaked folds. He palmed roughly through his jeans, biting back a groan at the delicious friction.

Lucerys knew he should walk away, and give you privacy and space, but he found himself unable to tear himself away from the door. He was utterly transfixed, his body burning with lust as he listened to you pleasure yourself so wantonly.

Panting heavily, you collapsed back onto the damp silk sheets, your body still trembling from the aftershocks of your intense climax. "Oh fuck," you gasped out loud, completely oblivious to the fact that Lucerys had been listening in.

Your hair was splayed out messily around your head, clinging to your flushed face as you tried to catch your breath. You could feel your heart pounding wildly in your chest, and your skin was flushed and tingling all over. The wet spot on the sheets beneath your ass had grown larger, a testament to just how desperately aroused and worked up you had been.

Lucerys closed his eyes and groaned under his breath as he heard you cum, whining loudly. He apprehensively staggered away from the door, breathing heavily and unevenly. He knew there was no way you didn't hear that groan he'd let out.

He left quickly before you could find out that he had heard you. Lucerys groaned softly as he staggered back down the hallway, adjusting his pants to try to hide the massive erection that was now straining against the fabric. He knew he should have walked away when he realised what was happening behind that door. But the sounds of your desperate moans and the slick, wet noises of you pleasuring yourself had been too much for him to resist.

He stumbled into the little galley kitchen, pouring a glass of cold water. He downed it in one long gulp, hoping it would take the edge off the fierce lust burning through his veins. But it was no use.

Lucerys knew he couldn't go back out there like this, not with his cock this fucking hard and aching for your touch. He needed to calm down somehow.

Shaking his head he slowly made his way back to the wheel.

Lucerys groaned softly as he stepped back onto the deck, his cock still straining against his pants. He tried to focus on steering the boat, but his mind kept drifting back to the sound of your desperate moans.

Hopelessly trying to regain his composure, Lucerys gripped the wheel tightly as he stared out at the darkening horizon. The salty sea breeze washed over his flushed face, but it did little to cool the burning desire coursing through his veins. He couldn't stop from imagining the erotic image of you splayed out on the silk sheets, your hair tangled and skin glistening with sweat as you brought yourself to a climax.

Lucerys shook his head slightly, trying to dislodge the lusty thoughts. He knew he shouldn't be thinking about you like this, especially after overhearing your display of self-pleasure. But fuck, the way you had moaned and whimpered, the obscene wet sounds of your fingers plunging into your dripping cunt... it had set his blood on fire.

He adjusted himself in his pants, trying to find a more comfortable position for his painfully hard cock. It was useless though, and he knew he would have to take matters into his own hands eventually. The question was, would he be able to resist the urge to storm back into that cabin and pin you down, sinking his aching shaft deep into your needy hole until you were screaming his name?

Lucerys swallowed thickly, trying to focus on the task at hand. They still had hours left until they reached the pier, and he knew he would have to keep it together. But fuck, it was going to be a long night with you just a few feet away, your scent still lingering in the air and your desperate moans echoing in his mind.

He took a deep breath, gripping the wheel tighter as he stared at the darkening sea. He had to get a grip, had to keep his lust in check. But deep down, he knew it was only a matter of time before he snapped and took what he wanted - before he had you naked, wrists bound and legs spread wide as he fucked you into submission.

Slowly and hesitantly, you exited the bedroom, feeling bashful and flustered after your private activities. You quickly changed into a tight top and denim shorts, wanting a change of clothes after the intense session you just had. Your hair was still slightly dishevelled, and your eyes had a dreamy, faraway look as you approached Lucerys at the helm.

"Hey there," you said softly, a faint blush still colouring your cheeks as you glanced at him.

You bit your lip, feeling a twinge of embarrassment as you remembered how loudly you had moaned and whimpered while touching yourself. You hoped Lucerys hadn't overheard your display. The thought made your blush deepen.

"We should be at the pier in two hours, right?" You remarked, trying to change the subject to something more neutral. In truth, the boat suddenly felt a little too small and claustrophobic, especially with the sexual tension hanging heavily in the air between you. You needed fresh air and a distraction before you lost your mind from your constant desire for Lucerys's touch.

Lucerys tensed as you approached, his body still thrumming with lust. He took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to regain his composure before turning to face you with a strained smile. "Hey," he replied shortly, his voice slightly hoarse.

He could feel the sexual tension crackling between you, as thick and heavy as the humidity in the air. He knew you must have heard him groan, must have known he had been listening to you fuck yourself stupid on the bed. Lucerys clenched his jaw, trying to hold back the filthy words that wanted to spill from his lips.

He swallowed thickly, trying to push away the lustful thoughts that had been consuming his mind. "Yeah, about two more hours," he replied, slightly raspy.

He couldn't help but notice the way you blushed and bit your lip nervously. Did you know what you had done? Did you have any idea of the effect your wanton moans and the slick sounds of you fucking yourself had on him? Lucerys wondered.

He turned his gaze back to the horizon, watching the sun slowly sink below the waves. The sky was painted orange, pink, and red–casting a warm glow over the water. But even that breathtaking sight paled to the beauty of you standing beside him, still flushed and dishevelled from your private activities.

"It's a beautiful night," he said lamely, hating how awkward his voice sounded. He wanted to say so much more, to tell you how desperately he wanted to bend you over the railing and fuck you until you screamed, but he held his tongue.

Lucerys shifted his stance slightly, trying to alleviate some of the pressure on his painfully hard cock. Take a deep breath, Lucerys told himself, trying to calm down. He knew he had to keep it together, to act like a gentleman in front of his guest. But fuck, it was getting harder and harder to resist the temptation you presented.

You glanced at the stunning sunset, the vibrant oranges and pinks streaking across the sky, taking your breath away. It was absolutely gorgeous but not as breathtaking as the way Lucerys looked right now–his chiselled jaw clenched, and his eyes darkened with hunger. You could feel the sexual tension rolling off him in waves, making your skin prickle.

"I thought I'd come to keep you company..." you said softly, dropping your gaze shyly. You perched yourself on the seat beside, clutching your phone tightly. It buzzed occasionally with messages from Addam, but you couldn't bring yourself to care right now. Not with the way Lucerys was looking at you, his eyes roaming over your body like a physical caress.

You crossed your legs, feeling the soft denim of your shorts stretch across your thighs. You could feel Lucerys's gaze lingering on your backside, and you had to resist the urge to squirm. Did he know what you had been doing just moments before? Could he hear the echoes of your desperate moans and the slick sounds of your dripping cunt? The thought made you blush, and you looked away, trying to hide your flushed cheeks.

You could still feel the lingering ache between your thighs, the throbbing emptiness that cried out to be filled. And god, you wanted him to be the one to do it. You wanted to feel his strong hands gripping your hips, his hard cock sinking deep into your tight heat as he fucked you hard and fast, just like you had imagined earlier. The thought alone made you clench around nothing.

"Thanks. I was already getting bored here," Lucerys said softly, voice low and slightly rough.

"Did you have a good rest?" He asked teasingly, hoping to get a reaction out of you, hinting at the desire coursing through his veins. He knew he shouldn't ask, but he couldn't help himself. He wanted to know everything about you, even the most intimate details.

You tensed at Lucerys's question, feeling embarrassment wash over you. "A good rest?" You repeated, your voice coming out slightly breathless. "I, um. I guess you could say that," you mumbled, unable to meet his intense gaze.

"I just, um. I was talking with Addam for a bit. He texted me," you said lamely, trying to change the subject. You sat up straight, clutching your phone tightly like a lifeline. In truth, Addam's texts had only fuelled your lust, making you crave Lucerys's touch even more.

Lucerys quirked an eyebrow at your mention of Addam, a flicker of jealousy flashing in his eyes. He leaned back slightly, crossing his arms over his chest as he studied your flushed face with a critical gaze. "Addam, huh? I see," he replied curtly, his tone sharp.

He couldn't help but wonder what had transpired between you, and it left a bitter taste in his mouth. However, he kept his suspicions to himself, not wanting to accuse you of anything without solid proof. Instead, he changed the subject, hoping to lighten the mood. "Well, I'm glad you could join me out here. It's a beautiful night, isn't it?" he remarked, gesturing toward the stunning sunset painting the sky.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, your cheeks still burning with embarrassment. "Really?" You asked, surprised by his sudden change of heart. "Cause you sent me away when I offered to stay with you before," you pointed out, still unable to meet his intense gaze. You could feel his eyes boring into you.

Lucerys tensed at your comment, his jaw clenching as he fought back a surge of jealousy. He knew he had been a bit of an asshole before, pushing you away when you offered to stay with him. But he had been so fucking pent up and frustrated, desperate to keep his distance from your tempting body and the way it made him feel.

But now, with the way your cheeks were flushed and your eyes avoided his, he couldn't resist. "I know, and I'm sorry for that," he said softly, his voice rough with emotion. "I just... I didn't want to make things awkward between us. But fuck, I want you here with me now," he whispered, more to himself.

"Tell me," he rasped, his voice low and rough with lust. "What were you really doing in there, sweetheart? Don't try to hide it from me. I heard every fucking sound, every desperate moan and whimper that spilt from your pretty little mouth."

You glared at Lucerys defiantly, your eyes flashing with indignation. "Oh please, don't flatter yourself," you said with a bitter laugh, rolling your eyes. "Just because I have needs doesn't mean I'm some slut. I'm not that easy."

You leaned closer, your voice dropping to a low, teasing him. "Maybe I just have a vivid imagination. Perhaps I was thinking about how good it would feel to have a real man's hands on me, making me come undone."

You couldn't admit that you had instead been thinking of him the whole time, opting for a little white lie. "Or maybe you're just jealous that Addam has the power to get me so worked up. You can't stand the thought of me wanting anyone but you, can you?"

Lucerys felt angry at your accusation, his eyes flashing with an intense, jealous fury he couldn't fully hide. But he quickly tried to reign in his temper, not wanting to let on just how much the thought of you wanting anyone else bothered him.

"Don't be ridiculous," he said shortly, his voice tight and strained. "I couldn't care less who you fuck yourself stupid thinking about. It's none of my business," he bit out, crossing his arms over his chest.

But even as he said it, Lucerys could feel the jealousy burning like acid in his stomach. The idea of you coming undone to someone else's touch, imagining Addam or anyone else bringing you to a screaming climax... it made him want to put his fist through the wall. But he refused to let you see how much it got under his skin.

Instead, he turned his gaze back to the horizon, watching the last rays of the sunset dip below the waves. "Besides, I thought you had better taste than to settle for a loser like Addam," he said coldly, unable to resist the jab. "Guess I was wrong."

You glare at Lucerys defiantly, your eyes flashing with resentment as you lean in close, jabbing a finger at his chest. "Fuck you, Lucerys!" You hiss, your voice shaking with anger and frustration. "You're the real loser here, you goddamn hypocrite! How dare you judge me for having needs when you were the one listening in on my private time like a fucking pervert? That's beyond messed up!"

Your cheeks flush an even deeper shade of red, but this time it's from rage rather than arousal. You can't believe the nerve of this guy, toying with your mind like that and then having the nerve to accuse Addam of being the loser.

You are so pissed off that you're trembling slightly. You step closer to Lucerys, refusing to back down as you stare him down angrily and disdainfully.

"And another thing, you smug bastard," you continue, your voice dropping to a low, threatening purr. "I'll fantasize about whoever the hell I want, whenever the fuck I want. Got it, asshole?" You snap, your eyes boring into his with fierce intensity.

You can feel the anger radiating off you as you stand there, your heart pounding in your chest and your breath coming fast and hard. You won't let this jerk make you feel ashamed.

Lucerys felt a pang of guilt at your accusation, realizing he had indeed overstepped a serious boundary by listening in on your private moment. But despite his feelings of remorse, he couldn't deny the way your fierce anger and indignation only served to turn him on even more. The fire in your eyes, the fury that rolled off you in waves... fuck, it was intoxicating.

But he refused to back down, his pride and jealousy fueling his stubbornness. "Temper, temper," he taunted, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth despite the anger in his eyes. "I didn't realize you were so easily provoked, princess. Guess I hit a nerve, huh?" he mocked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Lucerys had never been one for games, and he was tired of playing nice. He wanted to grab you by the hair and drag you off to his bed, fucking the attitude right out of you until you were a mewling, obedient mess.

He leaned in closer, invading your personal space as he stared down at you with a challenging glint in his purple eyes. "And you're right, I am a fucking hypocrite. I shouldn't have listened to your little solo session. But you can't blame a guy for being curious," he defended himself, his gaze dropping to your heaving chest before slowly trailing back to your flushed face.

"Curious?" You scoffed, rolling your eyes at his flimsy excuse. "More like a fucking creep, listening in on private shit. I don't care how rich and powerful you think you are, that's not normal," you snapped, jabbing your finger harder against his chest.

But even as you seethed with anger, you couldn't ignore the way your pulse raced at his proximity. Damn him for being so infuriatingly hot, even when he was acting like a manipulative asshole.

"So what? I'm supposed to just forget about it and be grateful you decided to grace me with your presence now." You spat bitterly, hating how breathy your voice sounded. "Newsflash, Your Highness - I don't give a fuck about your title or your money. You don't get to dictate who I fantasize about or what I do in my private time."

You crossed your arms over your chest as you glared at him mutinously. "You want to know why I was thinking about a real man's touch?" You hissed. "Because I'm fucking tired of boys who are too scared to go for what they really want. Guess that's why you still rely on your daddy's cash and status to get you laid, huh?"

It was a low blow, but you were beyond caring.

Lucerys froze for half a second, his smirk faltering as your words hit him like a slap. His brown eyes darkened, the teasing glint replaced by something sharper, something that burned. He leaned forward, stepping into your space, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him.

“You want to talk about going for what you really want?” he said, his voice low and dangerous, carrying an edge that sent a shiver down your spine. “Fine. Let’s talk about it.”

His gaze locked onto yours, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe. The playful arrogance was gone, replaced by raw intensity. “You think you’ve got me all figured out, don’t you? Daddy’s cash, daddy’s status, the perfect little heir who’s too scared to make a move.” He let out a low, humourless laugh, shaking his head. “But here’s the thing, princess: I don’t need anyone’s help to get what I want.”

His voice dropped, barely above a whisper now, and the air between you felt charged, electric. “And if you really think I’m too scared to go for it, maybe you don’t know me as well as you think.”

His gaze flickered down to your lips, lingering for the briefest of moments before snapping back to your eyes. “So tell me,” he continued, his tone equal parts challenge and provocation, “if I’m just a boy hiding behind his daddy’s money, what does that make you? The girl who can’t stop thinking about him?”

The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating, as his words hung in the air. He didn’t move, didn’t back away, waiting for your response like a predator waiting to strike. There was no smirk this time, no playful banter. Just Lucerys, raw and unfiltered, daring you to challenge him.

Your jaw tightened, and you refused to step back, even though his proximity made your pulse hammer in your ears. The way he looked at you, like he was peeling back every layer and exposing something raw and vulnerable, made your skin prickle with defiance. If he thought he could rattle you, he had another thing coming.

"Thinking about you?” you scoffed, your voice sharp and biting. “Don’t flatter yourself, Velaryon. You might like to believe you’re the centre of the universe but trust me, you’re barely a passing thought.” You took a step closer, your chin tilting up in challenge. “And if you think I’m the one who can’t stop thinking about someone, maybe you should look in the mirror.”

His lips parted, but you didn’t let him speak, pressing on with a venomous smirk. “What’s wrong, Lucerys? Mad that someone finally called you out? I can’t help it if your fragile ego can't handle the truth. You act so untouchable, as nothing fazes you, but here you are, standing so close it’s like you’re trying to prove something. So what is it? What are you trying so hard to convince me of?”

You let your words sink in, watching the flicker of something in his eyes—anger, desire, or maybe both. “Face it, Velaryon,” you said, your voice softening but losing none of its sharpness. “You don’t intimidate me, and you never will.” You leaned in just enough for him to feel the weight of your defiance, your voice dropping to a whisper. “So go ahead. Keep talking about what you want. But don’t act surprised when you find out you’ll never have it.”

You clenched your fists at your sides, trying to keep your breathing steady as Lucerys stared you down, his smug, infuriating smirk firmly in place. That smirk—God, it made you want to scream, to shove him off the boat, to—

“Are you done?” he drawled, tilting his head as if you were an amusing sideshow act. “Or are you planning to stomp your feet like a spoiled little brat some more?”

“Brat?” you spat, your voice rising despite yourself. “Oh, that’s rich, coming from the guy who’s never worked a day in his life! You think you’re so superior, but underneath all that charm, you’re just another spoiled, overgrown man-child!”

His smirk fell, just for a second, but it was enough to give you a flicker of satisfaction.

“Say what you want about me,” he said, stepping closer, his tone low and deliberate. “But at least I’m honest about who I am. You, on the other hand? You’re so busy trying to act like you don’t care, like you’re above it all, but it’s bullshit. You care. More than you want to admit.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “What the hell are you even talking about?”

Lucerys leaned in, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Oh, come on. You can’t seriously think I haven’t noticed the way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention. Like you’re trying to figure out whether you hate me or…” His eyes flicked to your lips, just for a heartbeat, before snapping back to yours. “Or something else entirely.”

Your heart thundered in your chest, the heat of his words wrapping around you like a vice. You opened your mouth to fire back, to tear him down with the sharpest words you could muster—but what came out instead made your blood run cold.

“I was actually starting to like you, but clearly, that was a mistake.”

The words tumbled out before you could stop them, hanging between you like an admission of guilt. Your stomach dropped, dread coiling in your gut as you saw the shift in Lucerys’ expression.

His brows shot up, and for the first time since you’d met him, he seemed genuinely taken aback. But the surprise didn’tlast long. It melted away, replaced by something darker, something more serious that made the space between you feel suddenly, impossibly small.

“Starting to like me?” he repeated, his voice low and rough, like he was testing the words, tasting them on his tongue. “Funny, because I haven’t just liked you. I’ve been losing my goddamn mind over you since day one.”

You blinked, your breath hitching as the confession slammed into you with the force of a wave. “What—”

“I’m serious,” he interrupted, his tone fierce, desperate. He reached out, his hand brushing against your arm. “You drive me insane. Every word out of your mouth, every look, every time you roll those pretty eyes at me—it’s like you’re in my head, and I can’t get you out. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

His fingers tightened slightly, grounding you as your mind spun. “And you think I’m scared?” he continued, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I’m not scared of you. I’m scared of what you’re doing to me, how you’re making me feel things I don’t know how to handle. You say you want a real man? Fine. Here I am, standing right in front of you, telling you I want you.”

Your pulse raced as his words sank in, each one like a spark igniting a fire in your chest. But instead of pulling away, instead of shutting him down like you’d always done before, you stayed frozen in place, your body betraying you as your breath came quicker and shallower.

A part of you wanted to give in, to let him consume you completely as he desired. But you couldn't. You had to stay strong, to keep your head clear. You had to step back, couldn't let him consume you whole.

Distracted, you found yourself blurting out, "Make sure you save the data from today's sail..." Your voice sounded strained and thin to your own ears. You were acutely aware of every place where your bodies touched, every point of contact sending sparks skittering across your skin.

The words felt hollow, a pathetic attempt to sound unaffected, but you couldn’t care. Without waiting for a response, you shoved the door open and stepped outside, letting it slam shut behind you.

The cool sea breeze hit you like a wave, sharp and stinging against your flushed skin. You leaned against the railing, gripping it tightly as if it could anchor you, your heart pounding so hard it felt like it might break free of your chest.

You stared out at the endless expanse of water, desperate to quiet the storm raging inside you. But it was no use. His words still echoed in your head, wrapping around you like a siren’s song you couldn’t escape.

Lucerys felt his heart clench painfully in his chest as you tore yourself from his grasp and fled, leaving him standing there alone with the weight of his confession hanging heavily between them. He watched you go, his eyes dark and haunted as he struggled to process the whirlwind of emotions coursing through him.

For a long moment, he stood rooted to the spot, his mind reeling as he tried to make sense of the intensity of his feelings for you. He had never experienced anything like this before, this all-consuming, desperate need to possess and be possessed by another person. It was terrifying and exhilarating, and he didn't know how to handle it.

But as the initial shock wore off, Lucerys felt a surge of determination rise up inside him. He refused to let you slip away that easily, to run from the undeniable chemistry that crackled between you like electricity. No, he would chase you to the ends of the earth if he had to, until he had you exactly where he wanted you - naked, willing, and completely at his mercy.

Lucerys stood there, his heart pounding wildly in his chest as he stared at the empty space where you had just been. He could still feel the ghost of your touch, the way your body had pressed against his, soft and warm and achingly perfect. Fuck, he wanted you so badly that it physically hurt, like a constant ache in his gut that only your presence could soothe.

He dragged a hand through his hair, his fingers trembling slightly as he tried to regain his composure. This was new territory for him, this intense, overwhelming need to have someone, to claim them and make them his own. He'd never felt anything like it before, not with any of the countless women who had thrown themselves at him over the years. With you, it was different. It was everything.

Lucerys's mind raced as he tried to figure out his next move. He knew he should give you space, let you cool off and come back to him on your own terms. But the thought of you slipping away, of losing you before he'd even had a chance to truly have you... it made his heart hurt.

No, he couldn't let that happen. He wouldn't. He would chase you down, corner you, pin you against the wall until you had no choice but to listen to him. To hear him.

Lucerys took a deep breath, his jaw clenching with determination as he kept sailing the boat towards the marina. In just a few hours he will have you... with no distractions.

Lucerys's mind raced as he kept sailing, his thoughts consumed by you. The way you felt pressed against him, the taste of your skin, the sound of your breathy moans... it was all he could think about. He couldn't focus on anything else, not even the task.

As the sun began to set and the marina came into view, Lucerys felt a surge of anticipation and nervousness. He knew that once he had you alone, he wouldn't be able to control himself. He would take you, claim you, make you his completely.And God help him, but he couldn't fucking wait.

Lucerys's hands gripped the wheel tighter, his knuckles turning white as he steered the boat towards the dock. He could see the lights of the marina growing closer, the sound of music and laughter carrying across the water. But all he could focus on was you, the way your body had felt against his, the scent of your skin lingering in his nose.

He knew he should slow down, should take his time docking the boat. But he was too impatient, too desperate to get to you.

Your heart hammered wildly in your chest as you sat on the deck chair, desperately taking long drags of your vape. But no matter how much smoke you inhaled, your nerves only seemed to worsen. You couldn't shake the memory of Lucerys' intense confession, the way his eyes had burned into yours with such raw, desperate hunger. It made your skin prickle and your core throb.

As the dock came into view, panic washed over you. There was no escape now, no way to avoid the impending confrontation with Lucerys. You were trapped on this damn boat, just the two of you and the pounding of the waves against the hull. You knew you couldn't run from this, from him, not with only one bed on board.

Hastily, you jumped up from the chair and made your way to the cabin, needing to compose yourself before you faced him. You caught your reflection in the mirror - your hair was a wild mess, your eyes were wide and wild, your cheeks flushed a deep, telling pink. You looked like a wreck, like a woman on the verge of losing her mind... and maybe you were.

You paced around the small space, your breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. You felt like a caged animal, desperate to break free but unable to escape the predator stalking you from the shadows. Lucerys... fuck, why did he have to be so intense, so consuming? Why did he make you feel this way like you were drowning in a sea of your own desire?

The engine suddenly stuttered to a stop, jolting you out of your panicked thoughts. Shit. He was here, he was close, and you weren't ready. You weren't sure you would ever be prepared.

Your heart raced as you crept toward the window, peeking out at the marina and holding on to hope that he had somehow forgotten your heated conversation earlier. But deep down, you knew it was futile.

Lucerys climbed onto the dock, his muscles flexing beneath his shirt as he secured the boat to the pillar. He could feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins, his heart pounding in anticipation of seeing you again. He knew you couldn't run from him forever, that eventually, you would have to face the undeniable connection between you.

As he strode towards the cabin, Lucerys took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing thoughts. But it was no use - all he could focus on was the pounding of his heart, the desperate ache in his gut that demanded to be filled by you.

He pushed open the door to the cabin, his eyes immediately finding yours in the dim lighting. For a moment, he stood there, drinking in the sight of you - your wild hair, your flushed cheeks, the way your tits heaved with each panicked breath. Fuck, you looked like a fucking goddess, like a dream made flesh. And he wanted to ruin you, to claim every inch of your body until you were marked as his and his alone.

"You can't run from this," Lucerys said softly, his voice low and rough with emotion. He stepped closer to you, his eyes never leaving yours as he invaded your space. "From us. I won't let you."

Your heart raced as you turned around and pressed your back against the cool glass window, your breath catching in your throat as Lucerys approached you with slow, deliberate steps. You were trapped, cornered, with nowhere to run or hide.

"L-Lucerys," you stammered out, your voice shaky and breathless. You could feel the blood rushing in your ears as he invaded your space. You tried to meet his intense gaze but found yourself unable to hold it for long, your eyes darting nervously away.

You could see the hunger burning in his eyes, the raw, desperate need that made your core throb and ache with longing. You knew you should be fearful, should be running for the hills at the sheer intensity of his obsession. But instead, you felt a thrill of excitement.

Lucerys grasped your chin firmly, forcing your gaze to meet his as he loomed over you. He could feel the way your breath hitched, the way your pulse raced beneath his fingertips. It made him feel powerful, and invincible, like he could take on the world and emerge victorious. As long as he had you.

"I meant what I said earlier," Lucerys murmured, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip and leaving a trail of fire in its wake. "I'm fucking obsessed with you. I can't think about anything else, can't focus on anything but you."

Lucerys leaned in closer, his face mere inches from yours as he pinned you against the window with his hips. "Don't you get it? I want to fucking devour you, consume you until there's nothing left. I want to ruin you for anyone else, make it so you can never even look at another man without thinking of me."

You gasped quietly, a soft sound that escaped your lips as you turned your face to the side, biting your lower lip to suppress the intensity of sensations. Your eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment, savouring the tension that hung between you. Your back instinctively arched against him, the warmth of his body sending shivers down your spine, your chest brushing against his deliciously.

"Don't make empty promises," you breathed softly, your voice barely above a whisper, as your gaze met his. Looking up at him through your lashes, your pupils wide with desire, your heart racing in the stillness of the moment.

Lucerys's eyes darkened with lust at your breathy words, his grip on your chin tightening slightly. "Empty promises? I never make empty promises," he growled, his voice a low rumble in his chest. "I always follow through... on everything."

To prove his point, Lucerys crashed his lips against yours in a bruising kiss, making you gasp softly. A breathy mewl escaped your lips as Lucerys claimed your mouth in a searing kiss. He was pouring all of his longing and frustration into the heated embrace. Lucerys licked into your mouth, his tongue delving deep to taste you, to claim you.

Your own desire ignited like a wildfire in your veins, and you found yourself kissing him back with equal passion, your hands sliding eagerly under his shirt to caress the hard planes of his chest.

Lucerys tore his mouth from yours, both of you breathing heavily as he attacked your neck next. He sucked and bit at the sensitive skin, determined to mark you as his own. "Fuck, you taste even better than I imagined," he panted against your throat, his fingers sliding under your shirt to caress the soft skin of your stomach.

Lucerys' hands were everywhere, groping and squeezing, igniting sparks of pleasure that made you writhe against him. When his mouth found your neck, you threw your head back with a whimper, your fingers clawing his chest as he sucked and bit at your racing pulse. You felt dizzy, drunk on the sensation of finally having him touch you like this, his touch leaving you breathless and aching for more.

Your hips rolled instinctively against his, feeling the hard, thick length of his cock against your lower stomach. It made you throb, made you clench around the emptiness inside you, desperate to be filled by him. You wanted to touch him everywhere, to map out every inch of his toned body. Your hands slid lower, teasing along the waistband of his pants, your heart pounding.

Lucerys shuddered as you touched the waistband of his pants, his hips bucking forward involuntarily as he sought more of your touch. He was already so fucking hard, his cock pressing against the confines of his jeans, begging to be freed.

Unable to resist the temptation of your tits any longer, Lucerys slid his hands up your sides, pushing your shirt up and exposing them to his hungry gaze. He cupped the soft mounds, his thumbs brushing over the stiff peaks of your nipples, feeling them tighten even further beneath his touch.

"Fuck, I've wanted this for so long" Lucerys growled, his voice rough with lust. "Can't wait to get my mouth on these perfect tits."

In a flash of movement, Lucerys ripped your shirt over your head, tossing it carelessly to the side. He dipped his head and took one hardened nub into his mouth, suckling and flicking it with his tongue as his hand continued to knead and squeeze the pillowy flesh. He sucked hard, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud as he palmed the other tit roughly.

"Oh god, Lucerys!" You whimpered, your back bowing off the window as pleasure rocked through your body like a tidal wave. Your fingers knotted in his hair, gripping the silky strands tightly as you held him against your heaving chest. "Don't stop, please don't stop..." You begged, your voice high and breathy with need.

Each hard pull of his mouth on your sensitive nipples sent bolts of electricity through your nerves, stoking the heat building between your thighs. You could feel yourself getting close already, teetering on the edge of a massive climax from his relentless suckling alone.

"Please, Lucerys, I'm so close already," you panted, looking down at him with glossy eyes. You moaned shamelessly, too lost in pleasure to feel any shame.

Lucerys smirked at your needy state, and he's barely even touched you. "I haven't even touched you, and you're already ready to come undone."

Lucerys moaned against your tit, the vibrations sending delicious shivers through you. "Such a needy little thing," he murmured, his hot breath fanning over your damp flesh.

Lucerys lapped at the hardened bud once more before releasing it, admiring how it glistened with his saliva, blowing cool air over the damp peak.

You tangled your fingers in his dark hair, tugging him up as you crashed your lips against his in a frenzied kiss. You poured all of your pent-up desire into the heated embrace, your tongue colliding with his as you ground your hips against his straining erection.

Your hands roamed greedily over his muscular chest and back, mapping out the hard planes and ridges you'd dreamed about touching for so long.

Breaking the kiss with a gasp, you gazed up at Lucerys with hazy eyes, your chest heaving and flushed. "I don't care if you're teasing me," you panted, a wicked grin on your lips. "I just need you..."

Lucerys's eyes darkened with primal hunger as he drank in the sight of your flushed skin. He could see the desperate need in your body, hear it in the way your voice trembled and broke as you spoke. It inflamed him, making his cock throb and leak in his jeans.

In a flash of movement, Lucerys swept you into his arms, carrying you towards the bed. He tossed you down onto the bed, drinking in the sight of your dishevelled figure against the tangled sheets.

Your heart raced as Lucerys tossed you onto the bed, a gasp escaping your lips at the sudden movement. You could feel the heat of his gaze on your skin, the way he drank in every curve and contour of your body like a man starved.

"I want to watch you touch yourself," Lucerys demanded, his voice a low, commanding rumble. "Show me how you make yourself feel good."

"Don't be shy now," Lucerys purred, his voice a low, seductive growl. "You had no problem doing it earlier," he teased with a wicked grin.

He reached down and palmed himself through his jeans, groaning at the feeling of his own hard, aching flesh.

Blushing under his intense scrutiny, you slowly unbuttoned your jean shorts, sliding them down your legs along with your soaked red thong. A testament to the desire that had been building inside you for so long. You could feel Lucerys's eyes on you, watching your every move with rapt attention.

Meeting his gaze head-on, you brought your fingers to your mouth, sucking on the digits and coating them in your saliva. Keeping your eyes locked with his, you trailed them down your body, skimming over the swell of your breasts, and the dip of your waist, before coming to rest at the apex of your thighs.

You could see the hunger in Lucerys's eyes darken as you began to touch yourself, your fingers circling your sensitive clit in slow, teasing circles. You couldn't hold back the moan that slipped past your lips, your hips bucking slightly as pleasure sparked through your core.

"I wasn't thinking about Addam," you panted, your voice high and breathy with need. "I was thinking about you. I'vewanted this for so long, wanted you for so fucking long."

You plunged two fingers knuckle-deep into your dripping cunt, crying out at the sudden intrusion. The wet, obscene sounds of your fingers pumping in and out of your soaked pussy filled the room, mingling with your wanton moans and whimpers.

Lucerys's pupils were blown wide with lust as he watched your fingers disappear into your glistening folds. The obscene sound of your fingers pumping in and out of your sopping cunt filled the room, making his cock throb and leak in his jeans.

He could hardly believe his eyes as you pleasured yourself, it was the most erotic sight he had ever seen.

Unable to resist, Lucerys quickly shed his own clothes, nearly ripping them in his haste to be naked with you. His cock slapped against his stomach, long and thick and leaking heavily, and the swollen head flushed an angry purple. He wrapped a hand around the throbbing shaft, squeezing hard as he watched you debauch yourself for his viewing pleasure. A bead of pre-cum formed at the tip, slowly dripping down the impressive length.

Your breath caught in your throat as Lucerys's massive cock sprang free, the sight of his thick, pulsing shaft making you moan. You could feel your pussy clenching and dripping, aching to be filled by him.

"I need to taste you," Lucerys panted, his voice strained with desperation. "Need to eat your pretty pussy."

"Please, Lucerys," I whimpered breathlessly, spreading your legs even wider in wanton invitation. You used your fingers to hold your swollen, glistening folds open, revealing the soaked flesh. "I need your mouth on me."

Lucerys's eyes flashed with hunger as he crawled onto the bed, settling between your spread thighs. The scent of your arousal filled his nostrils, making his mouth water and his cock throb with need.

He leaned in close, his hot breath fanning over your dripping slit. "Fuck, you smell divine," he growled, his voice a low rumble in his chest. Unable to resist any longer, Lucerys dove in face first, his tongue delving deep into your soaked cunt. He licked a long, slow stripe up your slit, moaning at the taste of your arousal.

He started with a long, slow lick up the centre of your slit, savouring your exquisite flavour. He could feel your body tremble beneath him, your juices flowing freely onto his tongue. He whined in appreciation, the vibrations rumbling through your core.

Lucerys focused his attention on your sensitive clit, flicking and circling the tender bud with the tip of his tongue. He sucked it between his lips, his cheeks hollowing as he drew hard on the sensitive flesh.

Needy whimpers and pitiful mewls spilt from your lips, your body writhing with pleasure as he devoured your needy cunt.

Gripping your thighs, he spread you even wider and buried his face in your pussy, sucking and licking and feasting on your soaked flesh like a man starved. His tongue delved deep, fucking into your tight channel and lapping up every drop of your essence. He could feel you clenching around the invading muscle, greedily trying to suck him deeper.

"Fuck!" You squealed, your voice pitching higher with each flick of his tongue over your swollen clit.

He could feel your clit throbbing against his tongue, puffy and sensitive from his relentless assault. He focused his attention there, flicking and circling the tender bud with the tip of his tongue before sucking it hard into his mouth. His cheeks hollowed as he drew on the sensitive flesh, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body.

Lucerys's hands gripped your ass, squeezing the firm globes roughly as he feasted on your dripping pussy. He spread your legs even wider, opening you completely to his hungry mouth.

"Oh god, yes! Just like that," you whimpered breathlessly, your eyelids fluttering in bliss. "It feels so fucking good, Lucerys!" You mewled, your head tipping back against the pillow as he ate you out with wild abandon. You could feel your pussy dripping and clenching, your juices flowing freely into his hungry mouth. He was unravelling you, breaking you with his tongue, and you never wanted it to end. Your skin burned as Lucerys feasted on your dripping sex like a man starved.

You let out a sharp cry of ecstasy, your fingers tangling urgently in Lucerys's hair, gripping the strands tightly as you held his mouth right against your aching, dripping sex.

Lucerys groaned in approval as he felt your fingers grip his hair, holding him tightly against your dripping sex. He loved how desperate you were for his mouth, for his touch. It spurred him on, making him double his efforts to bring you to the pinnacle of euphoria.

He could feel his own cock throbbing and leaking against the sheets, aching to be buried deep inside your soaked, clenching cunt. The erotic sounds of your pleasure spurred him on, his own hips rocking against the bed as he rutted against the sheets.

"I'm so close," you whimpered breathlessly, body starting to convulse uncontrollably beneath Lucerys. Your thighs quivered and shook as if experiencing a tongue-lashing for the very first time.

Lucerys could feel your body beginning to tremble and convulse beneath him as your climax approached. He could taste your arousal increasing, your juices flowing freely onto his tongue and chin. He lapped at your dripping slit, not wanting to waste a single drop of your essence.

"Don't stop, Lucerys!" you mewled desperately, fisting your hands in his dark locks and grinding your dripping sex against his face. "I'm... I'm going to..." you panted, unable to finish the sentence as the first waves of your climax crashed over you.

"Fuck yes, come on my tongue," Lucerys growled, his voice muffled against your dripping flesh. "I want to taste your cum, feel you gush in my mouth."

A guttural moan tore from your throat, your inner walls clamping down rhythmically around nothing. You were drowning in ecstasy, a sensation only Lucerys could invoke.

Lucerys's own hips rocked against the bed, his throbbing cock leaving a trail of sticky pre-cum on the sheets as he rutted desperately against them. The taste of your arousal, the sounds of your pleasure, the feeling of your body writhing beneath his touch - it was almost too much for him to bear. Your release was intoxicating, and he lapped at your cunt greedily, not wanting to waste a single drop of your essence.

Gasping whimpers escaped your lips, and your chest heaved as you tried to come down from the mind-blowing climax that had just ripped through you. Your pussy clenched around nothing, still greedy and aching to be stretched and filled by Lucerys.

Waves of remaining pleasure shuddered through your body, leaving you trembling and weak in the aftermath. You gazed down at Lucerys through hooded eyes, seeing the smug grin on his face as he licked your release from his lips. You wanted to be annoyed by his arrogance, but you were too lost in bliss to muster up any genuine irritation.

Lucerys looked up at you with a smug grin, his chin glistening with your juices. He licked his lips slowly, savouring the taste of your climax. "You taste heavenly, princess," he purred, his voice a low, satisfied rumble.

Still nestled between your trembling thighs, Lucerys pressed soft kisses along your inner thighs, helping your body come down from the intense high. He could see the way your pussy fluttered, still greedy for more. It made his cock throb with the need to be buried deep inside your tight heat.

"I could do that all day," he murmured, his voice a low rumble in his chest. "Eat this pretty pussy until you're dripping and begging for my cock." Lucerys pressed a final, lingering kiss to your sensitive sex before crawling up your body, trailing his fingers over your heaving breasts and down your sides.

You gazed up at Luke through hooded eyes, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. "Luke," you mewled needily, your voice still shaky from your intense climax. "Gimme your cock," you mumbled, wrapping your small hand around his thick, throbbing shaft. You stroked him slowly, marvelling at how your fingers barely closed around his impressive girth.

Lucerys shuddered, a needy whimper escaping his lips as your small hand wrapped around his throbbing shaft. He could hardly believe this was finally happening, that he was finally feeling your touch on his aching cock. It was almost too much.

"F-fuck, your hand feels so good," Luke groaned, shuddering as your fingers wrapped around his aching shaft. His hips jerked forward instinctively, seeking more of your touch. "I've dreamed about this for so long, about you touching me like this."

Luke's breath hitched as you slowly stroked his thick length, feeling each throbbing vein and ridge beneath your palm. Pre-cum leaked from the swollen tip, dripping down to coat your fingers and aid in their glide along his shaft.

"I need to be inside you, princess," Luke panted, his voice strained with desperation. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your hips, gripping you tightly as he fought the urge to rut against your hand like a beast in heat.

"Mhm," you nodded eagerly, agreeing with him. You needed to feel him inside you. Now. "Lucerys," you breathed out, gazing at him with hooded, desire-filled eyes. "I want you to take me however you please. Use me..." you trailed off, your voice hitching with anticipation.

Your nails raked lightly down his chest, leaving faint red lines in their wake as you tugged him closer, desperate to feel his heavy weight pressing down on you. You arched your back, pushing your breasts up and out, silently presenting them to him as you spread your legs wider in invitation.

"Lucerys..." you whimpered needily, your hair fanning out around you against the pillow as you stared up at him with pure, unadulterated lust. "Fuck me. Fuck me hard and don't stop until I'm begging you to stop."

"Oh, and I'm on the pill, so..." you smirked, biting your lip. "You can fill me up if you want."

A shudder rippled through Lucerys at your obscene words, his cock jerking in your grip, a spurt of pre-cum dribbling from the tip at the thought of filling you with his seed. "Fuck, yes," he growled, his voice a low, roughened rasp. "I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk; until the only thing you remember is the feeling of my cock splitting you open."

He could hardly believe his ears, scarcely able to process that this goddess was offering herself to him entirely. Lucerys pushed your thighs apart roughly, settling between them. He rubbed the swollen head of his cock through your dripping folds, coating himself in your arousal. Then with one swift, hard thrust, he buried himself balls-deep inside your tight, wet heat.

A guttural moan tore from Lucerys's throat at the feeling of your walls gripping him like a vice. "Fuck, you're so fucking tight," he panted, fighting the urge to come instantly. He paused for just a moment, letting you adjust to his size before he began to move.

"Ah!" You screamed in pleasure as Lucerys entered you in a quick movement, your body arching off the bed at the sudden penetration. "Move, now!" You whined in a high-pitched, needy tone, your hips bucking up eagerly to urge him to start thrusting inside you. You could feel every thick inch of his hard cock stretching you open, filling you. The sensation was incredible, better than anything you had ever felt before.

Lucerys moved your knees apart, pushing them into your chest. Holding you in a rough mating press. He began to move, pulling out until just the tip remained inside you, before slamming back in with a grunt, burying himself to the hilt. He set a hard, fast pace, the bed creaking beneath you with each powerful thrust.

"Take it, princess," he growled, voice strained with lust as he fucked into you relentlessly. "Take my cock like the greedy little thing you are." His pubic bone slammed against your clit with each thrust, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you.

You could only mewl and wail in ecstasy as Lucerys was abusing your sopping cunny. Each forceful thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body, leaving you a quivering, writhing mess beneath him.

"L-Lucerys!" You cried out, your voice cracking as he thrust into you wildly. "L-love your c-cock, I love it s-oo much!" You babbled incoherently, your voice broken by his hips snapping into you and your cries of ecstasy.

"I know you do, princess," Lucerys panted harshly, his face contorted in pleasure above you. "I can feel how much you love it. Your hungry little cunt is sucking me in." Your cries of pleasure spurred him on, making him fuck into you even harder, even faster.

You wouldn't be surprised if the boat rocked by now, the force of Lucerys's thrusts shaking the very foundation of the vessel. It was as if he was a man possessed, driven mad with lust and the primal need.

Abruptly Lucerys stopped his motions and flipped you onto your stomach with a grunt, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he loomed over your prone form. "On your hands and knees, princess," he commanded, his voice low. "I want to you from behind."

You arched your back, pushing your hips up and presenting yourself to Lucerys, your dripping sex and puckered hole fully on display. You gazed back at him over your shoulder with hooded, lust-drunk eyes and a coquettish smirk playing at your swollen lips.

"Mmm, how long have you thought about this?" You purred teasingly, your voice a breathy murmur. "I've touched myself thinking of you, imagining you're bending me over the nearest surface." You rocked your hips back against him invitingly, your round ass jiggling slightly with the motion.

His touch had set something ablaze in you. Never in a million years could you have pictured yourself acting like this, saying such depraved things.

"Don't tell me a strapping young man like you hasn't thought about bending me over." You reached back to spread your cheeks, putting your most intimate places on obscene display for him. "Here's your chance, Lucerys..."

Lucerys groaned, a desperate, whiny sound escaping his throat at the erotic sight of you presenting yourself to him. "Oh, you have no idea," Lucerys panted, his voice strained.

"Fuck, you have no idea how many nights I've lain awake, stroking my cock and imagining this moment," Lucerys panted, his voice strained with need. His hands gripped your hips tightly, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your ass. "Every time I've jacked off, it was your tight little holes I was imagining."

Lucerys leaned down, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the globes of your ass. He nipped and sucked at the tender flesh, leaving little marks of possession. His fingers slid between your cheeks, teasing along the cleft before brushing over your puckered rear entrance.

You gasped sharply as Lucerys' fingers brushed over your most private place, a jolt of foreign but not unwelcome sensation shooting through you. Your eyes flew open as you looked back at him over your shoulder. "L-Lucerys!" You breathed out, a pretty flush spreading across your cheeks.

Lucerys froze, eyes widening in surprise at your sharp gasp. "I'm sorry, did I hurt you?" he asked, concern evident on his handsome face. His thumb rubbed soothing circles over your lower back. "I didn't mean to be too rough..."

"No," you breathed, assuring him that you were fine. "It's just that... no one has touched me there," you quietly added, heart swelling at his concern for you.

Lucerys gazed at you tenderly, his thumb still rubbing soothing circles on your lower back. He leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your shoulder, his lips lingering on your skin. "Shhh, it's okay, princess," he murmured softly. "I've got you. I'll be gentle, I promise."

His fingers slid from your rear, trailing teasingly up your side. He cupped your breast, kneading the soft mound and rolling your hardened nipple between his fingers. "You're so beautiful like this," he whispered against your ear. "Spread out for me, offering yourself so sweetly..."

You sigh softly as Lucerys's gentle touches and sweet words ignite sparks of pleasure across your sensitive skin. Your fingers intertwine, his calloused hand enveloping your softer one. "I, um, I liked it when you touched me there," you confess shyly.

"Maybe you can just... touch it, while you fuck me?" You breathe out, hardly believing the obscene words spilling from your lips. What is this man doing to you? In his presence, you've become a creature of pure, uncontrolled lust, no longer recognizing yourself.

Lucerys's eyes darkened with lust at your shy confession, a wicked grin spreading across his handsome face. "Mmm, I thought you might like that, princess," he purred, voice a low rumble in his chest. "You're going to love the way it feels when I touch you there while fucking your tight little cunt."

His fingers drifted back down your body, teasing along the curve of your hip before trailing over the cleft of your ass. He brushed his fingertips over your puckered hole, applying the slightest pressure, before sliding lower to your dripping slit. Lucerys groaned as he felt how wet you were, ready for his cock.

Unable to resist any longer, Lucerys gripped your hips and thrust forward, burying himself deep inside your tight, wet heat with a throaty moan. He began to move, pulling out slowly before slamming back in, setting a hard, deep rhythm. At the same time, his fingers crept between your cheeks again, rubbing and circling your puckered rear entrance.

You gasped sharply, shuddering as you felt Lucerys's thick cock stretching you open, feeling him even deeper in this position. Your back arched involuntarily, pushing your hips back to meet his thrusts. "Ohhh god, Lucerys!" You whimpered, feeling him tease your untouched hole.

Your knees trembled, threatening to give out from the intensity of the sensation.

Lucerys groaned as he felt your body tremble beneath his touch, your tight walls clenching around his throbbing cock. "That's it, princess," he panted, voice strained with lust.

He pressed a spit-slick finger against your puckered hole, rubbing in slow, firm circles, the pad of his thumb pressing against it in time with his slow, powerful thrusts. The sensation was incredible, unlike anything you had ever felt before. Your body shuddered and trembled beneath him, overwhelmed by the dual stimulation.

"Luke!" You cried out, your voice breaking into a desperate moan. Every inch of you trembled, your core clenching and fluttering wildly around his thick cock as it stretched you open. It was almost too much, too intense, but you never wanted it to end. You pushed your hips back to meet his deep, purposeful strokes, silently begging him for more.

Your world narrowed down to the drag of his shaft against your inner walls and the maddening pressure of his thumb circling your untouched hole.

Lucerys could feel your body shaking, your velvet walls gripping his cock like a vice as he pounded into you relentlessly. "Fuck, you're squeezing me so tightly," he grunted, sweat dripping down his chest from exertion. "You're trembling, princess. Does it feel good when I touch you here?"

He pressed the tip of his finger against your puckered hole more firmly as he felt your body quivering with need. His other hand slid around your hip, finding your swollen clit and rubbing it in tight, quick circles.

You let out a pathetic mewl, your voice breaking with pleasure as he touched your aching clit. "Mhm, it's...ahh...feels so good," you slurred mindlessly, drool dripping from your kiss-swollen lips onto the rumpled sheets.

Lucerys groaned at your mindless words and the erotic sight of you drooling in ecstasy below him. "I know, princess, you're taking it so well," he praised breathlessly.

A loud, broken sob tore from your throat as you felt the intense pressure building to a fevered pitch inside you. "I'm g-gonna... Oh fuck!" You screamed, your vision flashing white as your orgasm ripped through you like a tidal wave. Your walls clenched and spasmed wildly around Lucerys's throbbing cock, creaming all over his length. You could feel some of the slick, hot fluid dripping down your thighs as you trembled.

Lucerys let out a loud, whiny groan as your velvet walls clamped down on his throbbing cock like a vice. "Fuck, fuck, fuuuuck!" he cried out, voice breaking as his orgasm overtook him. His hips stuttered and jerked erratically as he pumped wave after wave of his hot, thick seed deep inside your womb.

"Yes, princess, take it," Lucerys growled, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips as he ground against you, making sure every last drop of his release was seated inside your hungry hole. His eyes rolled back in bliss, a fucked-stupid grin spreading across his face as he filled you up, just like he'd always dreamed of doing.

You collapsed face-down onto the bed, your body going limp as Lucerys's hot seed filled you up, painting your insides white. "Mmm, thank you," you muttered mindlessly, still drunk on cock and pleasure, your mind completely scrambled.

You could feel his release leaking out of you, dripping down your thighs as you lay there, utterly spent and satisfied. "You came so much, Lucerys. I've never felt so full before."

Lucerys collapsed on top of you, his sweat-slicked body blanketing yours as he struggled to catch his breath. "Fuck, princess," he panted against your neck, his hips still twitching slightly as the last spurts of his release dripped into your well-fucked cunt. "I've never come so hard in my life." He pressed soft, lazy kisses along your shoulder blades, basking in the afterglow of their intense coupling.

Lucerys's softening cock slipped out of your dripping hole with an obscene plop, your combined releases leaking out and pooling beneath you on the sheets. He rolled onto his side, pulling your limp, pliant body against his own as he wrapped his arms around you in a possessive embrace.

Lucerys cradled your trembling body against his muscular chest, one large hand possessively cupping the curve of your ass. His fingers absently played with your damp curls as he peppered your neck and shoulder with tender kisses, basking in the intimate afterglow.

"It's okay, princess," Lucerys murmured soothingly, feeling your body slowly relax against his. "You did so well, took every inch of my cock like you were made for it. I've never felt anything like that before, never came so hard in my life."

He pressed a particularly tender kiss to the delicate skin beneath your ear. "I could feel how much you loved it, loved feeling my cock stretching this tight little cunt, filling you up so deep." Lucerys's hand drifted up to cup the soft swell of your breast, thumb teasing over the hardened peak of your nipple.

You smiled tiredly, your heart fluttering at his tender words of praise. "Thank you, babe," you murmured, the endearment slipping so naturally from your lips.

Your hand covered his on the soft swell of your breast, giving it a gentle squeeze as you snuggled back against his muscular chest. "Loved how you fucked me," you mumbled, your voice hoarse from the hours of moaning and screaming his name.

Lucerys smiled softly at your murmured praise, his chest rumbling with a contented hum as he held you close. "I loved fucking you too, princess," he murmured, voice a low, intimate rasp.

Lucerys pressed a tender kiss to your temple, his fingertips tracing the elegant curve of your spine as you lay draped across his muscular chest. He could feel the steady drum of his heart beneath your cheek, the gentle rise and fall of his lungs as he slowly came down from his high.

"You're beautiful," Lucerys murmured, voice a low, awed whisper as he gazed down at you with a soft, sated smile.

He brushed a few tousled waves of hair from your face, tucking them gently behind your ear. The intimate gesture made his heart flutter in his chest, a warmth spreading through him that had nothing to do with the afterglow of their intense lovemaking.

Lucerys knew, in that perfect, tranquil moment, that he had fallen for you. Hard.

You turned in Lucerys's arms to face him, your heart pounding nervously in your chest as you gazed up at him through your lashes. You didn't want to shatter the intimate, peaceful atmosphere we had created, but you needed to know where you stood.

"Lucerys," you began softly, your voice barely above a whisper, "what happens now?" you bit your lip as you searched his handsome face for any hint of his true feelings.

A part of you feared that you were just another challenge he had set out to win. Now that he had finally had you, would his interest fade? Would he grow bored and move on to the next pretty face that caught his eye?

The thought made your stomach twist uncomfortably, but you pushed it aside. You had to know the truth, had to understand what the future held for you beyond these six days trapped together on this boat.

Lucerys's heart skipped a beat as he gazed down at your lovely face, seeing the hope and anxiety swirling in your eyes. He wanted more. He needed more.

Cupping your face gently in his large hand, Lucerys brushed his thumb tenderly over the delicate curve of your cheek."Princess," he murmured, his voice soft and earnest.

His gaze bored into yours, his eyes filled with a sincerity that made your breath catch in your throat. "This won't end when we reach shore. I want to see you again, want to take you out on dates, spoil you rotten... You are out of your mind if you think I'm letting you go." Lucerys mumbled against your skin in a possessive tone.

You gazed up at Lucerys, a coy smile playing on your lips. "Well, who am I to deny you such a privilege?" You murmured teasingly, your voice a sultry purr.

Your fingers traced soft patterns on his chest, enjoying the muscle beneath your fingertips. You nuzzled into his touch, savouring the warmth of his palm against your cheek.

"I have to admit, the idea of being spoiled rotten by you is rather...appealing."

Leaning in closer, you pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the hinge of his jaw, breathing in the masculine scent of him.

Lucerys shuddered as your soft lips brushed against his jaw. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your naked body flush against his own as he rolled you onto your back.

"I'm glad you find the idea of being spoiled by me appealing," Lucerys murmured, his voice a low, seductive rumble. "Because I have many plans for you, princess." His large hands slid down to grip your hips, fingers sinking into the soft flesh as he held you in place.

He leaned down, his lips an inch away from your own. "But first things first," Lucerys whispered, his breath mingling with yours. "I'm going to kiss you until you're breathless."

"Hold that thought," you giggle, reaching for your phone to send a quick text to Baela.

"Your cousin fucks like an animal... and has the biggest dick I've ever seen :p"

You press send and smile like an idiot at your own text. Quickly, you the the phone away again and got back to Lucerys, smiling into his soft kiss.

Baela snorted back a laugh as she read your message, shaking her head in amused disbelief.

"Oh, my days! I'm thrilled you're having such a... stimulating time during your school project"

"Use protection!!!!"

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nastyc2nt · 6 months ago

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˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ House Of The Dragon Masterlist

Smut only!! 18+!! Minors don’t interact with theses posts please!!

✦ ──────── ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ──────── ✦

✵ Rhaenrya Targaryen

Comings soon…

✵ Jacaerys Velaryon

𝜗𝜚 ┊͙Naive Girl┊͙{Yan!brother!luke x naive!reader}{jace added but not really in here}

✵ Lucerys Velaryon

𝜗𝜚 ┊͙Naive Girl┊͙{Yan!brother!luke x naive!reader}{jace added}

✵ Baela Targaryen

Comings soon…

✵ Alicent Hightower

Comings soon…

✵ Other Character

Comings soon…

#Rhaenrya Targaryen x reader #Rhaenrya Targaryen smut #Rhaenrya Targaryen x fem!reader #Jacaerys Velaryon x reader #Jacaerys Velaryon smut #Jacaerys Velaryon x male!reader #Lucerys Velaryon x reader #Lucerys Velaryon smut #baela targaryen x reader #Baela Targaryen smut #Alicent Hightower x reader #Alicent Hightower smut #Jacaerys Velaryon x Baela Targaryen x Reader #Jacaerys X reader x baela #Jacaerys x Baela x reader #₊˚✧.*ˋ°‧₊ Angel Writes

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elissanatok · 1 year ago

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-𝐈 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐄

part 3

pairing: Aemond targaryen x velaryon! (strong!) reader

summary: Aemond has loved and secretly claimed you for himself since the day you were born. losing his eye changed him, but maybe it did not affect his feelings for you as much as he thought it had

warnings: english is not my first language, angsty , shy reader, unclexniece, possesive aemond, everybody adores reader in this

let me know what you think!! reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback are highly appreciated <33

the air in the dining hall had been suffocating you. you could see the smug look in the eyes of your oldest uncle. he used to look at you differently and you had questioned before if it were his feelings for you that changed, or he himself. and if Aegon changed that much, did the others do too?

you had been late, much to your mothers dismay. your uncle Daemon had not expected anything else. he always knew the days when it was time for a nightmare. maybe that was because he cared so much, or maybe because he liked to know all of the people surrounding him. you had forgotten your jewelry too, making your neck and shoulders bare. your deep red dress contrasted with the one of heleana who was sitting next to your brother.

you deeply regretted arriving late - because at the end of the table, to your left, sat the one eyed prince. his gaze burned holes into your skull and except from the smile you send him when you arrived you did not dare to look in his direction again, too afraid he would look at you the same way he did when you arrived.

you had hoped things would be different and he still held the same love for you he had when you were children. but this was different.

having you avoid his gaze angered him even more than the pig placed in front of him. he could not care for that damn pig because he already felt disgusted of himself. he thought your feelings for him could not change, you could not change, but there you were avoiding his gaze like never before. Now that you were of age, you would probably want a good looking man, a kind one too. hearing his mother ask about the lord in the north made him choke on his wine, and made you finally look at him.

your lavender eyes looked at him with concern, the line between your eyebrows deepening. “Are you alright prince aemond?”, you asked quiet and kindly. he nodded, humming as an answer, which definitely did not satisfy you. you wanted to hear his voice. he realized when you looked down at your lap, biting your lip embarrassed and playing with your fingers. but still, he did not know what to say.

His mother eyed him and the pig warily. She truly did not wish for something bad to occur, but she could literally feel the anger radiating of her youngest son. She tried changing the topic “But he has not made a proposal yet? Has he?”, but failed miserably.

Aemond felt lucerys smirk before he saw it. Not only could he now laugh at his dumb pig but at the obvious distress he felt over the possible marriage of his princess.

You shook your head no while chewing your dinner slowly. You did not wish to move to the north, to leave your family behind and be lady of house Winterfell. You just wanted to stay here. With him.

And after Heleana made her toast about marriage life and “he mostly ignores you”, it sounded like a death trap to her.

Aemonds abrupt standing up and hitting the table made you flinch. You could see it in his eyes. He truly did change and when he openend his mouth to make his horrible speech, you could feel it in every bone.

Although he did not take your name in his mouth, you could clearly hear the insult he threw at your siblings and you.

While everybody stood up, Aegon pushing lucerys head on the table and Aemond throwing Jace to the ground, you looked down at your lap. Tears that dropped down your cheeks pathetically were wiped away by your sleeves. This was not what you hoped for when they told you of your return but it was exactly what you feared.

Daemon saw it first, calling out your name to check on you and pulling the attention of the rest of your family towards you. You shook your head at him, while you tried to come up with anything helpful to say but found nothing that would make this situation better - so you left.

You did not see Aemonds smug smile fall because you did not turn around to look at him again.

Taglist: @iiamthehybrid @leahjean @bellaisasleep @tempt-ress @let-love-bleeds-red @millies0bsimp @alysmondstuff @chimmysoftpaws @justsumtuffstuff @havlindzk @partypoison-00-blog @zillahvathek @oureternalbond @aemondssiut @minttea07 @tinykryptonitewerewolf @pastelorangeskies @bellstwd @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @trikigirl271 @florxdexcerezo @eddiesbitch83 @maviee @melllinaa @zgzgzh @shiny-trashs-blog @bcon24 @ateliefloresdaprimavera @deliazeedork @ilovemydinoboi

I’m not continuing the tag list Sorry guys :(

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xoxo-surfergirl · 1 year ago

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A Very Targaryen Holiday - Dark!Aemond x Strong!Niece

Part I

summary: Lucera and Aemond reunite with their families to spend the holidays together. Aemond wasn’t always nice to her when he was younger, but has he changed?

notes: the main pairing in this is aemond x strong niece, but I guess I did write it as aemond x fem!lucerys velaryon. Whichever floats your boat more! aemond is not the nicest in this, but this fic is a mix of fluff and smut (but none of the fluff comes from aemond, lol). Slight dubcon, rough oral sex, and attempts at humor. There are no physical descriptions of Lucera besides her having long hair. There is a second part, which I will be posting soon. I cross post on ao3, with essentially the same username (just without the hypen) xoxosurfergirl! I hope you enjoy!!!! <3

Lucera took a deep inhale, followed by a deep exhale. Indulging in her breath usually helped whenever her nerves began to get the best of her. Her suitcase was cracked open in front of her, waiting for her to stuff it.

A few fancy dresses. A few long sleeves—it could get cold there at night. Several pairs of pants. A tank top just in case. A swim suit for the hot tub. More underwear than she needed.

She ran back to her dresser to grab the last few items required to fulfill her trip, when her door swung open loudly. Baela was able to nearly leap from the door to the bed, causing her comforter and pillows to jump from impact.

Her curls splayed out onto the bed in a halo. “I’ve always loved your bed. It’s the softest out of all of ours, you know.”

Lucera looked at her, unease crawling its way through her stomach and up her throat. “Yeah, well. You can always ask mother for a new one.”

Baela softened her face. “Luce, I know this is weird for you.”

“No, no. It’s fine, really, it’s just been awhile.” Lucera folded her clothes to keep her hands focused.

“It’s not really fine. I know we haven’t talked about it for a long time, but I know how weird it must feel for you.”

Lucera sighed. “It’s just, everything might be completely normal you know? And I’m anxious about nothing.”

Baela sat up on the bed, making deep eye contact with Lucera. “Don’t discount your feelings. It’s been four years since we’ve seen them, and for very good reason. Let me remind you that after you accidentally maimed him, he did try to hurt you. On purpose.” Lucera looked away, but Baela continued. “The only reason why we haven’t celebrated Christmas with them is because there were so many close calls and mother noticed”

She remembered the “close calls”. If only they had known all of the times the calls weren’t so close, but no one was there to see it.

“I know, I just wonder sometimes if it’s all in my head. Nothing really happened,” Lie. “I’m the only one who actually hurt someone.” A deep sense of shame leaked through Lucera’s chest, one that she had been trying for years to tame.

But Baela wouldn’t let her stew. “It was an accident, Luce. It’s okay. I’ll tell you as many times as you need to understand it. But what he was doing was not an accident. Remember the year he locked you in Grandfather’s industrial freezer for half an hour? Any longer than that and you would have died. Remember last time he took an ornament and forced you to crush it with your hand so you’d get glass stuck in your skin? Remember when he tried to slam your arm in the oven but Jace stopped him? Remember that other year he almost drowned you in the hot tub? There are even more than this, Lucera. You are perfectly right to be nervous about seeing him again.”

The walls in her mind were crumbling with Baela’s narration of the past holidays. These were memories Lucera had done her best to stifle, but they always returned louder than ever. She would never tell Baela that she had let him do these things, or that there were several more incidents that no one else knew about, because she had always felt like he deserved some form of retribution for losing his eye at her hand.

Aemond had always taken a keen interest in her. He had always followed her, watched her intently. It wasn’t hard to take notice of it. Everyone had.

But everyone had written it up to be nothing beyond youth fascination. Children stare at each other all the time. There was nothing peculiar about Aemond’s behavior.

It was only after the accident that his attention on her took a slight new meaning. Although hesitant at first to resume the previous non-concern from the rest of her family, time had worn away the worry it had initially caused. It had allowed for much else between them to take place.

“Thank you, Bae. I am nervous, but part of me does think we’ve all changed a bit. I certainly have.” And she had. They are adults now. It would be weird if he was still into torture. Most kids grow out of it.

“Exactly. We were weird teenagers and now we’re actually older. I’m sure we’ve all changed a lot since then.”

------------

The snow crunched under their tires, a fresh coat not yet salted by the city. Lucera recognized the skyscrapers in the distance, and her face softened when she saw the telltale curves of the family company’s building peak around the corner. Although it had been some time since she had visited their family townhouse in the city, she remembered the streets like she had lived there her whole life. Happy Little Treats, the best bakery in the city. Blackie’s, the best diner on the East Side.

Her, Rhaena, Jace, and Baela had decided to drive separately from their parents, who also had Joanie with them, as well as little Aemma and Viserra. It was much easier to take two cars, especially when they knew they would probably want to go out at different times from their parents who had two little ones. Poor Joanie, too young to be with the older girls all the time, but also far too old to be stuck with Aemma and Viserra, was doomed to float between the two groups.

The radio was tuned to holiday music, and the girls delighted in singing along to every song that rang through the speakers.

As they were closing in on their destination, Baela intercepted the music with her normal speaking voice, the first to do so in over an hour. “What do you think they all look like now?”

Rhaena was the first to answer. “I’m not sure about Aegon or Aemond, but Helaena and I see each other at uni. She’s radiant and beautiful, as she always has been.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot you've mentioned seeing her around.” Baela replied.

Rhaena smiled, and shook her head down. “Yeah, she’s the coolest, honestly.”

Baela laughed. “Out of those three? It’s no competition.”

Jacaera’s breath fogged up the window as she spoke. “I’ve seen Aegon and Aemond in passing at uni as well. They seem alright. Aegon is no longer the tall one.”

Lucera perked at this. Aemond? Tall? She shook her head. “I swear I forget we all go to the same school sometimes. There’s just so many people I never see them.”

“Aemond is tall now? Wow. I’ll have to see it to believe it.” Baela jeered.

Jacaera drew a heart in the fogged glass before turning and facing the rest of her sisters. “Yes! It was honestly shocking at first. I barely recognized him, but I saw the eyepatch and knew immediately.”

Oh right. The eye patch. Lucera sighed. Baela moved her hand to sit atop hers in acknowledgement.

A right turn here, a left turn there, and the chateaux-style massive townhouse came into view. The four stories were gaudily embellished by baroque trim, with a massive oak door calling attention to its center. Wreaths were attached to the base of every windowsill, and a candle placed in each window. They watched as Rhaenyra and Daemon pulled Aemma and Viserra out of their carseats, having arrived a few moments before they did. Joanie was looking up at the mass of the townhouse, most likely counting how many windows there were, trying to remember which room was what.

Two men Lucera didn’t recognize dressed in all black greeted her parents, and Daemon smiled and gave him his car keys.

Rhaena twisted the steering wheel to pull up right behind them, and the other man dressed in black immediately jumped to open all of their car doors. Lucera felt like she was moving in slow motion the way the man was everywhere at once, and by the time she had stepped onto the sidewalk, he already had the trunk thrown open and was lifting their suitcases next to her.

“Thank you!” Lucera said enthusiastically, trying to cut through his quickness.

The house—if it could be called such a humble thing, loomed above her. She felt as if she was stepping into all holidays past, where he lingered with the bitter taste of sadism.

The large doors eased open, beckoning them inside. When she peaked in, she saw Daemon’s black trench coat deep in the arms of her grandfather, Rhaenyra to his side, buried in Alicent with a beaming smile of delight. They let go, embracing one another in turn. Viserys could barely contain his excitement at the sight of the little ones, having crouched down to greet them. Lucera noticed the exact moment he caught sight of the rest of her and her sisters, and his joy multiplied ten times over.

“Oh, my girls! My girls.” He said, reaching in to hug each one of them. “I couldn’t be more happy to have all of my family in one place again.”

Greetings were further extended to Alicent. It must have been an exhausting process for Viserys and Alicent, she guessed, since there were so many of them.

Alicent addressed the group. “I was just telling your parents, the rest of them are lost in the house somewhere. I’m sure you’ll see them shortly.”

The girls nodded, and Joanie said something about being excited to see Daeron. The flurry of movement divided as everyone was sent to their rooms to unpack.

Alicent nodded to a staircase on her left. “I put you girls up in the kid’s wing.”

Jacaera laughed, playfulness in her voice. “Only some of us are still kids.”

“Oh don’t be ridiculous,” Alicent waved her hand downwards. “You’ll always be children to me.”

Climbing up three floors was exhausting without the bag, and Lucera could hardly imagine doing it with the extra weight in tow. She looked at the house staff carrying her and her sisters bags, and felt a bit sorry for them.

After reaching her rooms, she was delighted to see that she had a window overlooking the front sidewalk. There were fresh winter roses placed delicately in an opaque white vase on her bedside table, the blue jumping out against the walls of her bedroom.

Her nerves were reaching an all time high. She still hadn’t seen Aemond, yet he was here. But her thoughts were interrupted when Baela swung open her door.

Lucera turned to look at her. “Do you ever knock?”

Baela spun around and leaned exaggeratingly against the door frame before saying, “Not with you, I don’t. All of us girls are going to the hot tub. Put your bathing suit on.”

Lucera smiled, and unzipped her suitcase. “I’ll be ready in five. Wait for me?”

------------

The hot tub was roiling, jets pumping near blistering water against their backs. It was heavenly. Their hair was tied up in variations of buns and pony tails, the ends tickling their necks.

Rhaena had been intently looking at the back of the townhouse. “It’s so crazy to be back here after all these years.”

“It’s hardly changed since then. It feels like I’m stepping into a place frozen in time.” Jacaera marveled.

Helaena chuckled at their insight. “I’m sure it feels that way. I haven’t been to Dragonstone in forever either.”

Jacaera turned to her in revelation. “Gods that’s right! You should come stay with us for the summer. The beach is so warm then.”

“Yeah! Maybe when we all finish up our finals Helaena can just come home with us?” Rhaena said in agreement.

“I’d be happy if you had me,” Helaena replied. “What are all you studying anyways?”

Baela went first. “I’m studying business, with a concentration on finance.”

Lucera seconded her. “Me as well.”

Jacaera tagged at the end of Lucera's agreement. “Also me.”

Helaena laughed. “All you three planning to work for the family business, then?”

“Something like that. Jacaera, Baela, and I will take over after Rhaenyra and Daemon.” Lucera answered. “After Viserys passes, of course. It will be awhile, but there’s a lot to learn anyways.”

“Aemond’s going to do the same. Aegon isn’t interested in being a part of Hightower Associates, and neither am I, but Aemond is preparing to take over after our grandfather. Have you seen him around uni?”

Baela chuckled. “We were just talking about that,” she looked at Jacaera. “Only Jace has, really.”

“Hm. That’s funny considering he’s also in your department.” Helaena remarked.

“Right? I mean the library is huge, but it can’t be that large. I’m there all the time.” Jacaera pondered.

“Knowing him, he probably found a secret room and lives out of it”. Helaena sighed. “He doesn’t go out too much, and he’s really focused on his work.”

Lucera thought about the growing man Aemond had morphed into. One who was deeply integrated and committed to his family business, just as she. It only meant he had gotten more cutthroat. It’s the only way to survive in the world of finance they were thrust into. None of the top hedge fund managers, heads of banking families, or titans of brokers reached and stayed where they were because they were the most virtuous. To survive in this world meant being vicious at times.

A trait that ran in the family, clearly.

“We’ll probably run into him one of these days.” Baela acquiesced. “What are you studying again Helaena?”

“Studio art, concentrating on painting. Aegon is doing the same, but focusing on photography. We both much prefer it to the chaos of the family business.” She said proudly, until she realized the context of the conversation. “Not that I’m putting you down for choosing it, or anything.”

Jacaera giggled. “No, we get it. It is pretty chaotic.”

The hot tub had gone from the initial burn, to comfortable, to boiling again as the conversations ebbed and flowed through several different interests of theirs, such as their love lives and the semester's hook-ups, with extra time spent on the more embarrassing ones. It was truly Baela dominating the bulk of the conversation, hardly anyone else had anything to add apart from a meager makeout here and there.

Baela was also newly introduced to the term “situationship”, as the rest of them deduced she was most certainly in one with Adam Hull.

“Just because we sleep in the same bed most nights doesn’t mean we’re together.” She objected.

Helaena was set on getting her to admit it. “And does he stay in the morning? Do you do any other activities together?”

Baela scoffed. “We get dinner sometimes. And go to the movies every Tuesday, but that’s only because tickets are half-off on Tuesdays. And we go to the gym together. But it’s nothing, really.”

Helaena tried to ease her into it. “You do realize that is essentially a relationship, besides you have no direct commitment or any expectations? Someone is going to get hurt eventually.”

Lucera rolled her eyes. “And it’s probably him. Gods Baela, the man is probably in love with you and you are too daft to see it.”

All eyes on her, Baela was lost in the processing of this new information, until she remembered who and where she was, and quickly found a way to deflect it. “Oh shut up. Says you, you’re like the genuine version of a pick-me girl. Every man who looks at you falls in love with you.”

Lucera rolled her eyes. “You’re exaggerating.”

A smile crept across Baela’s lips, successfully removing the attention away from her situationship. “Um, no I’m not. What of Tyrek Lannister? Gerrick Greyjoy? Dorren Stark? And that’s only from this quarter.” She used her hands to prove her point, counting them on her fingers.

Lucera threw up her arms. “I can’t help it! Honestly! Besides, I don’t lead anyone on, just have maybe a kiss or two.” The rest of the girls sang a chorus of oos, bringing a blush through her cheeks.

“And who was the best out of them?” Jacaera coaxed.

“It hardly matters,” Lucera drawled, “but, it was Gerrick.”

“Hm. I’m surprised it wasn’t Stark.” Rhaena gave a side-long glance at Jacaera. “I’ve heard good things about Stark men.”

Jacaera’s face flushed, praying the heat from the tub would conceal her thoughts. Naturally, everyone noticed, but chose to spare their easily flustered sister.

Helaena looked her in the eyes, and threw her a trusting wink.

------------

As the day wore on, Lucera’s anticipation of seeing Aemond waxed and waned. She thought it would have happened by now—if they were still kids, it surely would have, being at the age where presence around the family was required. She thought of the many places he could be, the things he could be doing, but it was difficult to imagine someone she hadn’t seen in several years. It was nearly impossible to conceive of it, and it only raised her nerves.

Dinner passed along quietly, winter soup and charcuterie being served on a come-and-go basis in the parlor to account for the rush of her family’s arrival and the need for a little bit of flexibility in their schedule. Afterall, there was still much planned for the day: they were going to the ballet, and everyone would be attending.

In front of her vanity, Lucera examined herself in the mirror. She lifted the delicate silver chain to secure it around her neck, the deep crescent moon in its center sitting in the joint of her collarbones. She didn’t try to examine her reasonings for being extra fickle about what she wore, but it was hard to escape his presence in them. It had been so long, and she didn’t want him to think her ugly. He either had changed for the better and would no longer say his cruel thoughts aloud, hadn’t changed and would say that and so much more, or he had gotten worse. A shudder rippled through her as she tried to imagine how that could be possible, but what if it was?

She wanted him to look at her and see how much she had changed, that she was no longer a girl anymore. And perhaps, if he had any lingering thoughts of resentment, that could lend him to realizing that she was no longer deserving of his hostility.

Her nerves from earlier had thawed, and amongst the remains was a newfound confidence. Her mary janes clicked on the sidewalk, her self-assuredness carrying through her legs. She reached into the SUV where her family was waiting for her.

Rhaenyra, holding Aemma on her left leg, reached over and grabbed her hand. “You look radiant, darling.”

Jacaera patted the seat next to her. “Something got your spirits up?”

“Nothing in particular, just had a good day.” And it was true. The day had been knotless. She had been surprised by its ease, and delighted just the same.

Once the tires slowed and the doors slid open, she reached her hand around to grab the frame, the other taking Daemon’s hand to step out of the car. The marquee hung gaudily above them, its essence of performance steeped in its display. She looked around for the Hightowers, who had pulled in ahead of them. She found Alicent’s thick calico fur shawl, trailing to Helaena’s platinum hanging down her back, to…

Her throat seized. Was that really him? His back was set against her, but she could see Aegon’s side profile, meaning the other one must be him.

Jacaera was right, he is tall. She had never pictured him with his hair long. Her sisters poured out of the car to stand alongside her.

Baela was the first to acknowledge it aloud. “Gods, I hardly recognize them.”

The slamming of the car doors must have carried, and he turned around from his mother to face the rest of them.

His hair swung gently, and she caught the moment his eye landed on her. His eyepatch looked menacing, scar tracing just outside of it. While holding her gaze, he upturned his lips into a tight smirk.

Their families approached each other, not too far away to begin with.

Aegon looked delighted to see his cousins, endearing them each. His face had filled out on the edges, and he hadn’t grown an inch. Aemond upheld his apathetic image, looking slightly uninterested, but they knew him better—-he simply always looked that way. Her sisters took turns pulling each of them into hugs with their greetings.

When Aemond reached her, he regarded her for several moments, his dark smile returning. “You’ve changed, Luce.”

She straightened her back, ignoring the way he was openly sliding his eye across her from head to toe. “So have you.”

He surprised her by pulling her deep in his chest, bending his neck down to whisper in her ear. “I haven’t forgotten our little games.” Before she could respond, he released her.

Baela had witnessed the interaction from a few paces away, her eyes still on Aemond, who had gone to greet Rhaenyra. Lucera walked up to her.

She fell into step beside Baela, through the doors, tickets in hand. “What did he say to you?”

Back and forth, she contemplated telling her the truth. Through her childhood, she had never been fully honest through the extent to which he hurt her. Rhaenyra had questioned, Daemon had asked, and her sisters had pushed after her wellbeing once the accidents had been exposed as something more purposeful. Lucera knew her parents were smarter than she, but they also didn’t push the subject when she refused to yield.

She didn’t quite know why, though she supposed it was because she felt she owed Aemond her pain. It was the least she could do for taking his sight. He hadn’t permanently damaged her, afterall. Even though he got close, she reminded herself.

Her mind completed its process, and Lucera would continue her pattern with conflict as she always had. “Just that we all look older now.”

“Hm.” She grabbed Lucera’s arm, looping it in hers, voice quieting. “He looks like a fucking super villian.”

Lucera couldn’t bite back her amusement. “He really does, doesn’t he?”

She didn’t want to think about what else he looked like. Attractive, for one. It felt like a sin to even say it in her mind. Lucera was startled by how menacing he looked, but it suited him. His face was lined in hardness and brutality, his lone purple eye allowing for expression.

His walk bled dominance, something she could do without recognizing. But it was hard to ignore the complex grace in his movements, how every turn of his head and lift of his hand was controlled and measured.

Her eyes kept finding him unwillingly, absorbing the man he had become. Lucera couldn’t help herself, needing to remind herself to keep her gaze anywhere but him. He would notice. Baela would notice. Daemon would notice.

After getting their tickets scanned, she and Baela followed their entourage to their seats. The gilded plasterwork came alive from the walls, creating deep shadows, brightening the jewel tones that sat there. The lattice work was interladened with cherubs holding glowing sconces and foliated candelabras. Figurative and floral murals and abstracts curled and jumped from the ceilings, each framed by golden trim. The proscenium arch jutted out gently from the stage, red curtain dropped to hide the rest of the stage.

Their seats were hoisted on the second floor in the box on stage right. Lucera smiled to herself. She knew whoever had bought their tickets did so knowing that the best view would be from above, so they could see the aerial perspective of the dancer’s intricate formations. If she had to guess, it was probably Alicent.

She had sat in the first row of seats, between Jacaera and Baela, while he sat in the second, off to the side, closer to the stage. The curvature of the seats allowed for her to see him out of the corner of her eye, his side profile unmistakable. As she gauged where he was in relation to her, he caught her eye. He brazenly smirked towards her, and then looked away. She ran her fingers over the front of her dress, needing the movement to keep her grounded. Shortly after, the curtains opened and she breathed relief at the comfort that she would have something else to focus on.

It wasn’t as easy as she had hoped.

As they progressed through the suites, Lucera was trying to tame her gaze, pulling and forcing it to remain ahead on anything but him. There was so much to look at, too—the dancer’s tutus and tights, skin and hair was alight with glitter catching every ray of stage light. The way they moved, their arms pouring up and down, their legs fluttering across the stage. Glissade en arriere to arabesque. The live orchestra in the pit, the sliding of their bows, the dancing of their fingers. She had so much to choose from. And it worked for a time, until she remembered his presence, and she had to pull her gaze forward again.

He caught her once or twice, and returned her wandering eyes with the same haughty smile.

She didn’t know if it should scare her, but it definitely made her feel something. Like she wanted to push the button to reveal a secret. Perhaps it was curiosity; she was a woman now, and can’t possibly be pushed around like she used to. He wouldn’t kill her. Not now at least. It would have had to happen years ago, when he was still a child and could get away with “accidental” murder. At present, he’d go to prison for manslaughter. Right? He has to know that. And he himself is a man grown, who has risen above such ideas. Right?

The curtains were drawn, they stood from their seats, her family quickly ushering everyone to get back to the house as fast as possible.

Once alone in the comforts of her bedroom, she unzipped, unlaced, and undid every button and tie on her clothing, releasing more than just the tension it had held on her skin. The whirlwind of their evening had finally come to an end. She had seen him, and it had been somewhat eventful, but she had expected nothing less.

------------

The next morning after an uneventful breakfast, Viserys had called all of his grandchildren to the kitchens. He ensured they knew their presence was mandatory.

“You kids haven’t seen each other in so long. It’s time you bond again.” It was hard to tell what the room-wide cringe was from: being called kids, or being told they must bond over something of Viserys’ choosing.

Lucera looked around the massive kitchen, and knew immediately what they were going to be doing.

Viserys waved his hand. “I dismissed the staff early today. Instead, you all are going to be making our family’s holiday cookies!”

Joanie squealed in excitement, diverting the attention away from Aemond and Aegon, who both rolled their eyes louder than she’d ever seen it done.

“Why not. I love baking!” Rhaena perked.

Viserys stepped out to be more directly in front of them, looking at each of them intently. “Here’s what’s going to happen. Aegon and Jacaera, you two will do our peanut butter kisses. Aemond and Lucera, I want you two doing our sugar cut-outs. Daeron and Joanie, you two are in charge of snowballs. Rhaena, Helaena, and Baela, you three will do our gingerbread cookies. You’ll need the extra person since they’re a lot of work.” He gestured towards the back wall. “I’ve had the cooks set out all the ingredients, and there should be plenty of room for all of you.”

Lucera didn’t know quite what to do. Her intimidation of him was preventing her from moving her feet. Let alone, she didn’t know if Aemond hated this idea, and she didn’t want to feel his rejection. But then again, very little sounded better than fresh cookies.

Joanie and Daeron had practically run across the kitchen, as if it was a race to see who could finish the fastest. Lucera smiled at her youthful enthusiasm.

“Are you going to just stand there and look dumb?” Aemond’s voice cut through her thoughts.

She looked up at him. “No, no of course.”

“Of course you’re going to stand there and look dumb?”

Lucera grumbled. “You know what I meant.”

They walked over to the corner of the kitchen. Lucera knew this recipe by heart, having made it many times the past several years at Dragonstone.

“We need to work the butter, first. Cream it up a bit.”

She began unfolding the wax off of the butter.

“They’re quite simple. I don’t know why he wants the two of us to do it. A child could make these by themselves.”

Lucera took the flat end of the spatula and smashed the butter into smaller pieces in the bowl. “You know why he wants us to do it together.”

Aemond pulled out the bag of flour, dipping the cup deep in the bag. “I suppose. Funny thing for him to act like he cares so much about bonding time.” He swiped a knife off of the top of the measuring cup. “So this is what bonding looks like?”

Lucera scoffed. “It could be, if you actually acted like you wanted to be here.”

Across the kitchen, she could hear Jacaera scolding Aegon over the bag of hershey’s kisses. “You do realize we need some of those to actually make the cookies? Save some for the rest of us.”

Aemond paused, mulling over his next words carefully. “I could be doing something else.”

Lucera looked over at Baela, Rhaena, and Helaena, who were giggling over the molasses and brown sugar.

“And what might that be?” She questioned mockingly. While he poured in the sugar and flour, she began mixing in the butter.

“Working.” He turned to face her, dipping his head to look down at her from their close proximity. Sarcasm sat between his next words. “Ever heard of it?”

Lucera was slightly ruffled by this, and even though she caught on to his tone, wasn’t willing to go along with the act. “You don’t know the slightest thing about me.”

He stood behind her to grab something on the other side, and whether it was for stability or otherwise, he put his hand on her waist. She tried not to make any sudden movements to imply she was thrown off or affected by this gesture, and could not say if she was successful or not. His hand was large, fingers stretching across the right side of her lower back. Just breathe. She tried to tamper down her blush, not wanting him to know that he flustered her. It would only make her more of a target.

“Twas just a joke, Lucie.” He smirked, pulling away, and warping his fingers to the newly formed dough in the bowl.

She tried not to watch the way his deft hands worked the dough into a ball. Needing to prove she was not in fact bothered, she replied, “Regardless, I will have you know that I’m in the line of succession. Me, Jacaera, and Baela are all going to uphold Targaryen International Banking after Rhaenyra and Daemon.”

To her surprise, Aemond showed her possibly the first form of respect she had ever received from him. “It’s an honor to not only be a part of our family, but also uphold its greatness.”

Lucera pulled out the various cookie cutters, clearing her throat. They had been apart all this time, their secret torture games known truly just between them. She knew she should hate him, but she didn’t. And the unfortunate circumstances had decided that he must grow into a desirable devil. But she can’t think about that right now. Looking at her cookie shape options, she decided her favorite was the Christmas tree. “I heard you’re inheriting Hightower Associates.”

He smiled, and even though it was tight lipped, she could tell it meant something to him. “Yes. Otto most likely has another decade in him to run it, but it will be mine once he is no longer fit for it. Thank the gods, Aegon and Helaena would destroy it.”

Lucera looked over at her sister and Aegon. He looked at her with light in his eyes, while she double checked each dough ball to ensure they were the same size. As nice as the scene was, his momentary calm was deceiving. She laughed quietly in her throat imagining him being put in charge.

Their own dough had been rolled out, and they began stamping it with the cookie cutter. “I’m sure you will do the business much good. You can be…” Lucera looked for the right words, and wondered if it was even a good idea to remind him of his nature in the first place. “Quite intense. And cutthroat.”

He paused at her implicit acknowledgement of the past, looking at her directly once again. His chest was at her eye level, even though she pried her eyes upwards to meet his. The soap on his neck had a clean, sharp scent. “Yes. I suppose I haven’t changed much.” He waited for any kind of reaction, but she figured it best to not give him any. Lest he get any real ideas.

Lucera slid the cookies into the oven, the warmth heating up her arms. She vaguely recalled when Aemond had tried to shut her arms in the frame of the oven, and startled herself with his proximity.

He noticed her pulling away from the oven with fear in her eyes. “Relax. My days of trying to scar you are over.” Aemond poured a small stream of milk over the powdered sugar on the stove. “Besides, my hands are busy. And there’s people here.”

It wasn’t until she finished sliding the tray in the oven and closed the door that she processed his meaning.

She looked up at him, eyes widened. “You’re not going to…?” Lucera didn’t say it out loud, for she didn’t want anyone else to hear.

He continued stirring, the smell of the heated sugar between them. “We’re both adults now. I wouldn’t be so senseless.”

The tension she had been holding around him had faded, filled in with relief. “I don’t know why,” she chuckled, “I just didn’t know what to expect.”

His side-eye landed on her, but he was playing lighthearted. “You wound me Lucera. Surely I would hope you think higher of me than that.”

“Hm.” She smirked at him, wanting to joke with him as he had to her. “You’ll just have to prove how smart you are then.”

His face held an unreadable expression, but she still counted anything besides scowling as progress.

The butter, sugar, and flour were melding together in the oven, releasing a heavenly smell. Lucera released some of the tension she had held around him. Perhaps this new chapter of their lives could strengthen their family, instead of tearing it apart as their childhood had.

Reading the golden edges of the cookies, Lucera determined they were finished and removed them out of the oven without fear of Aemond shutting her arm in. The royal icing was ready, and she put them in the refrigerator so the cookies were able to cool before they could put the icing on.

A large guffaw of laughter exploded from the other side of the kitchen, where Joanie and Daeron were saddled with powdered sugar. It had lodged itself in the creases of their faces, deepening their smile lines. In their attempt to brush it off their faces, they only served to spread the sugary dust to every surface in their vicinity.

Daeron, upon realizing the blessing this was, ran to Aegon with his snowy sugared hands and started furiously wiping them on the back of Aegon’s sweater.

Having been attacked by the enemy in a blind spot, Aegon was initially at the disadvantage. But, once he turned around, he used his height and weight to throw Daeron to the ground.

This move might have deterred many from another attack, but Daeron was a Targaryen, afterall. He grabbed onto Aegon’s leg, not letting go. It was an advanced move, leaving the victim—Aegon—unable to do much else than furiously try to peel him away.

Joanie made a jump to his other leg despite Aegon’s protests for her to not get involved. The two clung to his calves, anchoring him to the floor, giggling in victory. Aegon ceased his complaining and sighed in defeat.

“Anyone want to help me?” Aegon moaned.

Jacaera was busy pressing what was left of the hershey’s kisses into the cookies. She shrugged. “I can’t, I have to do this while they’re fresh out of the oven.” Besides, she was too amused by the situation.

“Sorry, I don’t want to get powdered sugar all over my new pants.” Baela shouted from across the kitchen.

Aemond was also pleased by his brothers, and after hesitating a few moments too long, began long strides towards the scene.

He had nearly reached Aegon, but once Daeron had peeked his head around Aegon’s knee to see the long legs of his other brother coming towards them, he flung himself off of Aegon and skittered across the floor. Joanie was quick to follow.

Once the cookies were all primed and pretty—to the best of their ability, at least—Lucera padded up the steps with a giggling Jacaera. In the parlor, Rhaenyra was drinking tea with Alicent. They must have heard of Viserys’ plan, as they looked at Lucera with concern, subtly checking over her limbs and face for any signs of harm as they had done when she was younger.

Alicent leaned over with furrowed brows and express interest, Rhaenyra had worry in her eyes. “How was baking my darlings?”

Knowing that they truly wished to know of her wellbeing, Lucera was relieved that for once around the holidays, she could tell them the truth. “It was good! No unlucky burns or anything! Just tasty cookies.”

They brought a plate over with all of their treats.

Rhaenyra beamed at her daughters. “I see gingerbreads, sugar cut-outs, and—?”

Jacaera leaned forward. “Peanut butter kisses. Aegon ate half of the hershey’s chocolates, so we didn’t have enough to put on top of all of them. Those ones are just plain peanut butter cookies.”

Alicent rolled her eyes through her smile, lovingly joking. “Of course he did, the little twat. I’m sure they’re still delicious.”

“Once he stopped eating the candy and started participating, he really enjoyed baking. Does he ever go down to the kitchens to bake?”

Lucera raised her eyebrows. She knew exactly what made Aegon so interested in baking earlier, and it wasn’t the sweets.

“He’s never thought it interesting before. Perhaps he was just happy to see everyone.” Alicent had toned down her surprise at the idea that he enjoyed the experience, having a mother’s sense of what was really at play. Her and Lucera shared a knowing glance, Jacaera none the wiser.

“And you Lucera?” Alicent had turned to face her.

“Oh yes! Aemond and I got along quite well. He’s an arse, but it suits him.” The sense of relief she glimpsed earlier had returned, and the weight of lying no longer chained to her. She was able to be genuine without having to pretend. It was a welcome feeling.

“He’s a proud man, that’s for sure. I still don’t know where he inherited his arrogance.” Alicent chimed.

Rhaenyra was put at ease with the grace of her features, always knowing the truth of her daughter. A shadow of skepticism remained, but she was optimistic that their maturation had changed things. “I’m glad you had a good time, darling.”

At least for the time being, any fears she had could be put to rest.

It had been a hard period of time when she had lied to her, both of them knowing that there was something much deeper to her words. It had been why, without too much evidence, Rhaenyra had decided it best that they spend a few holidays alone at Dragonstone. Viserys had insisted that they return each year, believing that it best for the family to be together when there was tension. Namely, after the accident where Aemond lost his eye, and his consequent aggression towards Lucera. Rhaenyra could only look at the truth in her daughter’s eyes for so long.

He hadn’t done anything out in the open, but he was occasionally sloppy. He was only a child after all, and was still learning how to keep a victim silent. He was lucky it was Lucera, who in her docility and self-blaming from the accident, let him act as he saw fit.

Her least favorite memory was when he held her head over the tub in the basement filled with water. He had grabbed her hair and held her face under water, keeping it there until her squirms softened to near limpness. He would then pull her up again, allowing for her to catch her breath before repeating the cycle. She had silently trusted him to let her live. It didn’t make the moments she spent choked underwater any less terrifying.

That had been the last time she saw him. Rhaenyra had remembered her coming up the stairs, face flushed, edges of her hair wet. Lucera recalled telling her that she slipped and fell in the snow outside, but her eyes had given her away. Even after much pressure, Rhaenyra still wasn’t sure what had happened, but she knew Aemond was involved and that Lucera looked like she had been through a torture sequence. Which, of course, she had.

But those days were behind them. He had said it himself.

------------

Later in the evening, after a light dinner, a particularly competitive game of Scrabble that nearly ended with Daemon’s knife at Aemond’s throat, and a Hallmark movie that Viserys claimed would “calm everyone down” (which it hadn’t—not entirely—although the two had slowly united across the one hour and thirty five minute screen time against their hatred for such movies), the family had dispersed and found their ways to bed.

Lucera was tucked in, nearly drowning in the comforter, just how she liked it. There was just one thing—she needed water. Her eyes had closed, her body tired and unwilling to go downstairs. But her throat was scratching for relief, and no amount of willing herself to sleep had changed it.

She skimpered down the steps, her long fuzzy socks lightening the blow of her feet. All of the lights had been turned off, and she relied on the underlights of the cabinets to light her way.

Under the fridge light, she filled up her cup.

The silence was broken by the stream coming from the fridge, and then by footsteps coming near. Lucera tried to cover up what little she could, as a simple t-shirt and underwear had been all she needed in the privacy of her room. She hoped whoever it was wouldn’t look too closely or scold her for being so indecent.

She would be gone in a moment anyway.

Putting her water glass in the sink, she turned to go down the hallway when she saw the illumination of platinum hair in the dark.

“Aemond.” And even though she whispered, the surprise was not lacking in her voice.

“Lucera. It’s getting late.” He was stepping closer to her, his voice soft.

“I was just a bit thirsty. I’m going back to bed now.” She tried to step around him, but he blocked her way with his arm against the wall.

“You know, before I saw you I wondered if I’d continue our little games.” He glazed his eye over her near-nakedness. “I thought I might not. And then I saw you, this pretty little thing, and I realized that we can have so much more fun together.”

She knew what he meant by it, but tried to ignore it for the moment. “But I thought you said you wouldn’t—”

“I said I wouldn’t scar you. I never said I wouldn’t do other things.” He grabbed a lock of her hair, twisting it between his fingers. “Oh how you’ve grown, Lucera.”

She tried to grab at the wrist of his hand in her hair, but he only grabbed onto her wrists instead, pushing her backwards towards a door in the hallway. He fumbled with the knob before throwing her in, the force of it landing her on the floor.

Lucera pulled her hair out of her face and stood up. “You didn’t need to be so rough with me.”

He grabbed her chin domineeringly soft. “Look at me, Lucera.”

Her lip quivered and she looked up at him, her large doe eyes unable to prevent her from looking nothing but innocent.

He looked deep in her eyes, commanding her submission with nothing but a look. “You always let me torture you, sweet little thing.”

All breath in her body halted, every movement, every beat of blood. The silence around her grew louder, unsure if she had heard him correctly.

“But now I want to do other things to you. I’m still using your body, of course, just in a different way. And you’re still going to listen to me, just like you always have?” Aemond tilted her jaw upwards to the right, then moved it to the left, as if he was examining her face from every angle.

The blood moving through her veins got thicker, her heart quickening its pace. Lucera quietly admitted to herself that she was excited at the idea that he could want her that way. Did he really think her attractive enough to want? He couldn’t mean what she thought he meant. Did he? Surely he didn’t want her like that.

He sneered in her face, clearly finding her dumbfoundedness amusing. “Look at you. Big eyes just looking up at me, waiting for validation. I knew you’d do anything I’d ask. Hells, you’ll probably enjoy it too.”

Lucera didn’t know how he had such a hold on her. How could he get away with talking to her like this? Why did she let him? Why was her belly aching with heat? She could feel her arousal dripping along her slit, sitting warm in her panties.

She pulled every last string of dignity together and tightened her hold to say, “No, Aemond. You’re not allowed to treat me this way.” and tried her hardest to turn away from him.

But, he was quick to react, and immediately pulled her backside flush against him, arms locked across her neck and midsection. “Squirm all you want. I see how your eyes hold nothing but submission for me, they always have. Is it guilt? Or something else?” He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “I don’t believe you wouldn’t enjoy every last drop of anything I give you. I’ll prove it to you right now.”

He moved his hand knowingly across her hip bones, giving them a hearty squeeze before sliding his fingers down her thigh to hike up her skirt. Her panic was felt immediately as she put her back and shoulders into every push and shove she gave him. “No, no no no, don’t—”

“Why? Are you worried about what I’ll find?” She wasn’t able to break out of the cage that was his strength, and his fingers gently trailed across the thin fabric hiding her entrance. What little barrier she had did a poor job of concealing her heated wetness.

He began lightly circling her clit, bending his face into her neck. “Tsk tsk tsk. Just as I thought, Lucie.”

She whimpered. “I just, I just am confused.”

“Hmm? I don’t think your body is confused. Your body wants me, Lucie. It wants me inside you. It’s all soaking and ready to take me.”

“You’re just so mean to me. I can’t let you do this if you’re mean to me.”

Aemond chuckled, feeling her melt into his touch as his deft fingers pleasured her. “You’ve always been so good at letting me take out my frustrations on you. This is no different, Lucie.”

She whimpered in his arms, unable to control the profound pleasure he was thrusting upon her. And it was him. There was something so enrapturing about his presence. She wanted to be engulfed in it, to feed off of it. But he had too much power—it wasn’t fair, he had always had the upper hand.

He slipped his fingers underneath the constraints of her underwear, immediately finding her slick folds. He gathered some of the wetness he found there and brought it up to her clit, where he rubbed gentle circles against her. “You’re soaking for me Lucie. I want to hear you submit to me. Your body is begging you.”

She whimpered again. The pleasure was too great, his weight pressed against her from all sides. Lucera needed more. Her resolve and rationality were slipping, disintegrating into a state of utter obedience, the teasing becoming too much to bear. It was like he was drowning her again.

“Anything, I’ll do anything, Aemond. I need this,” her voice squeaked from under his arm.

He laughed darkly in her ear before licking it, the warm sensation filling out through the rest of her body. “You will listen and do as I say, yes?”

“Yes. I swear it.” She cried.

“Good. On your knees, sweet girl.”

Her eyes got even bigger as she received his command. Lucera hesitated, looking up at him in his utter assertiveness. The look in his eye alone made her knees buckle.

Softly finding the most comfortable position she could on her knees, she tilted up her chin, attempting to hold as much dignity as possible. He grabbed both of her cheeks with each hand, fat pudging out between his thumbs and forefingers.

“You’re going to swallow my cock, do you understand? And when I decide I want to fuck your throat, I will.” He moved his right thumb down to her chin. “And if you bite, we can play one of our old games.”

She wouldn’t have bit him, but she was old enough to realize he got off on the power he had over her. And yet, she didn’t have to fake her submission. It was real, and it soaked her through.

With that, he let go of her face and gave her a playful slap on the cheek.

His hands remained at his sides, and she took that to mean that she must be the one to remove his pants.

Lucera tried to conceal the hesitation to approach his cock, but she couldn’t help herself. The bulge reaching across his leg was considerable, and she was unsure about trying to stuff something so large in her throat.

When she finally collected the courage to pull down the flannel in her fingertips, she was truly faced with the reality of such an act.

He was beautiful. Of course, even his cock has to be perfect. She took her hand, and worked the warm skin up and down, twisting her palm ever so slightly.

“Suck.” He said bluntly.

“I’ll try, but I don’t know how I’m going to—”

“If you can’t figure it out, I think pounding your throat will do the trick.” He interjected, his hand landing in her hair firmly.

This drove her to action, as she wanted to maintain as much control in the situation as possible. She pushed the head past her lips, his salty precum landing on her tongue. Her jaw expanded as much as it could, and she pushed herself to swallow his length.

Lucera could already feel the sides of her mouth being triggered to wetness by the intrusion, and she was thankful for it. She held onto the base to steady herself, and she began slowly moving back and forth, lathing her tongue on the bottom of his cock.

She could feel his hands shift in her hair as he played with it gently, combing his fingers through.

“You’re such a good girl, Lucera”

His voice felt like pure encouragement, and his validation was something she had never felt before. Lucera decided she liked that feeling.

She pushed herself deeper on him as her throat warmed up, but was still unable to fit it all. She tried using her hand to make up for what she couldn’t reach, and although she wished she could deep throat him, she was proud that she had made it this far.

He grabbed her hair a bit more assertively, and guided her up and down with a touch more of force. “You’re taking it so well, your throat wraps around me perfectly.”

Her eyes had begun to slightly water, but she still tried to connect their eyes. She had read in a magazine that boys liked that.

He began to move her head even more strongly, and pushed her throat further on his cock. She gagged, but he only moaned in his chest, the sensation squeezing his cock in her throat.

Lucera could hardly see, her tears clouding her vision. Her saliva gathered around her lips and slopped down her chin as she felt him push deep into her throat.

“Look at you, on your knees for me. This is where you belong.” He thrust into her mouth, holding her by the back of her head. As rough as he was, Lucera found that she just wanted to impress him. To show him that she wasn’t weak, and that she was capable.

“Fuck, Lucera.” He moaned above her, his breath deepening. With animalistic impulse, he worked her throat with lewd hunger, before pulling her as hard as he could towards his hips.

She knew what was about to happen, and although she was still choking on his cock, braced herself. Lucera felt his length throb in her mouth as he unloaded down her gullet and straight to her belly.

Having ceased his brutal thrusts, Aemond brushed her hair gently. “Swallow all of it, Lucie.”

She subconsciously tried to swallow around it, but it was difficult to move much of anything.

After holding her there for a few more moments, he released her. She stuttered backwards slightly, coughing and gulping for air.

He tucked himself back beneath his waistband, and bent down next to her. He took her shirt and wiped off the excess spit that had gathered around her chin, and then moved it up to wipe her eyes.

“You’re gorgeous on your knees, you know that?” His hand dragged languidly against her inner thigh, towards her underwear. She inhaled deeply at his movements, canting her hips to meet his hand.

“You’re so needy, aren’t you?” He tilted his head, looking down at her below him devilishly. “My cock down your throat only made you more soaked, hmm?”

His words burned into her pleasure, and Lucera couldn’t help but whimper. His fingers on her moved in light circles on her clit, warping the pleasure building inside her.

“Tell me how it felt in your throat.” His voice poured over her. She drank in each syllable of every lewd word spitting out of his mouth like ambrosia.

“You felt heavy on my tongue,” Lucera said, her breathing erratic. “I didn’t know how I was going to take it.”

“Hmm, that’s right.” He drawled. “It’s not easy taking a thick down your throat is it?”

“N-no.” She mewled.

“But you did a good job,” he brushed his thumb above her stomach. “You didn’t miss a drop.”

She panted as he loomed above her, playing her body like an instrument. She had already been so worked up, so much ache already inside her, that she knew her orgasm was coming. Aemond must have noticed too, for he picked up his pacing to the exact tempo she needed.

“Cum on my fingers, Lucie.”

She didn’t need anything further than his voice to send her over the edge as her eyes rolled back in her head, orgasmic pleasure bursting deep in her belly. She did her best to hold back the amplitude of the cries in her throat lest someone hear her.

The euphoria rippled through her body, and she could feel his satisfaction at her pleasure. After a few more moments, the lingering contentment was joined by a new wave of drowsiness.

It was late.

Lucera opened her eyes. Aemond stood up, pulling her up with him.

“Sleep well, Lucie.” He opened the door, gave her a quick slap on her ass, and walked towards the kitchen.

Her haze carried her to bed, where she unceremoniously slung herself under the covers, half-unconscious already.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x lucera velaryon #aemond targaryen x female!Lucerys Velaryon #smut #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen x Fem!Lucerys #aemond targaryen fanfic

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crownedtargaryen · 2 years ago

Text

ribs. - aemond x reader x lucerys

mine.

MASTERLIST | ( < this story has more parts that cane found here) A/N: this chapter HAS NSFW 18+ content!!! Also, I’m using the fanon adult Lucerys (harry gilby) (above) TW: THIS STORY WILL INCLUDE INCEST, SEXUAL CONTENT, ANGST, ABUSIVE TOPICS, INSINUATION OF RAPE, EMOTIONAL MANIPULATION, POST PARTUM. NOTES ARE APPRECIATED! (SHARES, LIKES, COMMENTS) word count: 1.4k taglist: @daenerysapologist @twizzy123 @hopelesswritergall @clairacassidy

My heart raced. I sat in on my wed-to-be's loose conversation with my father, his voice trying to sound as serious as possible as he snuck cheeky smiles over at me and would raise his brows as I would gaze at him longingly, like a lioness with her prey. I could see his hands shaking and gripping the paper resting on the table, his leg bouncing beneath. Eventually, he could not take the conversation any longer.

"We do not crave a large drawn-out ceremony, we wish to wed as soon as possible. Is that alright with you?" He gazes at my father, who is easing at the idea of a simpler approach. A smaller wedding means less money spent; an excuse to cheap his way out of formalities without seeming careless.

"Yes. Yes, that works perfectly, I wish to create allegiance together as soon as possible. In a few moons, we shall pair our homes." He stands, Lucerys returning the action as they stare at each other quietly. Then, my father reaches out. Lucerys shakes his hand quickly.

"Now, I must discuss with my wife-to-be some more serious matters. So we shall see you in the morrow my Lord." He steps toward me, my father nodding slowly then making his way out of the room. I stand, moving from my chair. But, Lucerys turns the chair and pushes me back into it, my eyes widening in shock. He walks to the door, making sure it's secure then walks back, getting on his knees in front of me unbuttoning his tunic quickly. "Princess, I crave you in such ways I cannot explain. Please, I must." he hooks his arms under my legs and opens them, pulling me forward in the chair. I stare at him as he returns the gaze with fire. He waits for my word, eager and ready as his tunic is halfway down his shoulders, open but not fully taken off. He lacks patience, it's flattering.

"Here? What if someone comes in? My room holds much more privacy." I say weakly, my breath and hands shaking as I pet his hair. He stares at me, swallowing hard and looking at the door for a moment.

"Princess, I can't wait. I could barely stand still, your eyes are so very tempting," he whispers, his lips moving to my knee and up my leg as his hand moves up my dress. I inhaled sharply, looking around the room. "But if you wish, we will change locations. Or, we won't do it at all. Don't make my eagerness force you." He murmurs, nipping my thigh with his teeth and looking up to me. Those forest-brown eyes worked me up even more than I was before.

"Claim me, Lucerys Velaryon," I command, watching the childlike innocence snap from him. He hooks his arms under my legs once more, his forearms up my waist as he rips me from any undergarments I have. No hesitation, his head pushes itself beneath my dress where I cannot see him, confused about what he may be doing.

Then, I feel it. His tongue trails parts of me that haven't been discovered by anyone before in such a way, a slick pooling onto his tongue and my legs clutching his head as I feel his large hands grip my waist, pushing his muscles under my legs to force them onto his shoulders. He ravishes me, tongue dancing on my clit and prodding my insides. I choke on my breath, quickly lifting my dress up and off of me, watching his eyes immediately move to mine, not at all distracted by my chest. I could tell he wanted to look, but he wasn't doing this for him. He did this because he craved to please me, it twisted something inside me positively.

"Lucerys," I murmured, hands tangling in his hair. He raised his brows innocently, a glimmer in his eyes as he looked at me. I wanted to tilt my head back and yell his name for all the world to hear. But, I never looked away from him. He moved from my goods, looking at my dripping cunt eagerly with glossed lips.

"(Y/N)..." he whispers, kissing my lower lips and glancing up at me. He stands, his tunic finally falling as he slams his hand on the side of my head and leans over me with a predator-like gaze. His other hand grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him as he smiles.

I melt beneath him.

Luke kisses me, forcing me to taste myself on his tongue and lips. His hand trails from my chin to my thigh, rubbing it slowly. It moves inward, two fingers touching my entrance, slipping inside as I inhale sharply, he moves without rhythm, forcing me to guess his pattern and not expect the pleasures he fills me with. I peek at him during the kiss, his muscles dripping sweat and his cheeks pink. He pulls back breathlessly, looking into my eyes longingly he pushes a third finger in, shocking me, and my body tenses with excitement. "Please, let me make you mine. Your body is perfect, your cunt is tempting me, Princess." Lucerys' hot breath tingles my face, and his hand that was previously next to my head rests on my side. He pulls me in, pressing my wetness to his cloth as his fingers move in a slow and teasing movement, a smooth petting motion on my sensitive spots making me coo and whimper pathetically.

"Please, take me as yours... Swell me with your kin." I whine, watching his predatory gaze ignite once more. He quickly undoes his pants, letting them drop and ripping off his underwear, scooping me up gingerly by the waist.

"I'm giving you a night you'll remember for an eternity." He whispers, setting me on the table we previously sat at. He lays me down, grabbing my thighs and pulling me to the edge, hooking them around his lower half as he rubs his base against my folds, lubricating it for easier access. Slowly, he pushes inside.

I watch his eyes roll back for a moment, doubling over and gripping the table’s edges next to me. He stares into my eyes, dazed and panting softly with a groan. Slowly, he moves. I feel his cock drag in and out with deep-rooted passion, slow at first then pacing himself faster and faster. A soft growl escaped him as his hair sticks to his face from the sweat dripping from him.

"Fuck," he murmurs, closing his eyes and leaning his head back, his muscles flexing as his chest heaves. I feel myself growing a ball of pleasure in my stomach, something about to explode inside of me. "Please, please please please." He repeats helplessly, moving his head down and kissing over my chest, lips teasing my buds. He looks up at me, with admiration and emotion I can't place in his gaze.

Suddenly, he says the words that drive me over the edge.

He moves his head up, lips hovering over mine as he smiles at me, panting heavily.

"I love you."

And with that, my vision goes white as his lips lock with mine, screaming his name into his mouth as I claw his back. I feel a warmth burst inside me as he cradles me close, squeezing me so hard I may bruise.

I catch my breath, looking at the man who confessed love for me. I gaze into his eyes, he refuses to separate eye contact, pulling out of me and scooping my shaky figure up, sitting on the chair, and setting me on his thigh. I feel him spread my legs, eyes wandering downward as he smirks cheekily and moves his fingers to my entrance, pushing our juices inside of me. Deeper and deeper. I whine in a stinging pain, burying my face in his neck.

"You're beautiful, (Y/N)," he whispers, wiping his hand off and rubbing my back. "Let's get you dressed Princess." He holds me close for a moment before grabbing my dress, putting it over my head and adjusting it for me, fixing my hair, and using my ripped underwear to wipe my legs off from the mess we made. I watch him slip his clothes back on, stopping me when I try to stand and help.

"Stay." He commands with a tone I never expected from him, flushing and staying put. He picks up his belt, moves over, and grabs the underwear. Slowly, he scoops me up and kisses my cheek gently. Without a word, we walk to my bedroom after he cleans up any mess that was left behind.

He helps me get undressed once more, stripping from his shirt and crawling into bed with me, tucking us in and holding me close. No words were exchanged, we enjoyed our afterglow and the affection between one another.

"Goodnight Princess," he whispers, kissing my forehead.

"Goodnight Lucerys," I return, burying my face in his shoulder as he pets my back. I close my eyes, drifting slightly. But, before I rest I say one more phrase.

"I love you too."

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softspiderling · 8 months ago

Text

and i burn for you (and you don’t even know my name) | j.v

summary:

“Something like that, “ you sighed, eyeing him briefly. Jacaerys tried not to flinch at the clear rejection and pressed his lips together.

“I should leave-”

“No, please, don’t leave on my behalf…. My prince.”

OR; Jacaerys is usually a lot more suave when it comes to ladies. That was before he met you.

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x reader

warnings: SMUT! 18+, MDNI, p in v, oral sex (fem receiving), doesn't follow canon, Jace has been aged up to 20!

word count: 7,5k words (oh)

author's note: this is very much is an indulgent story bc i miss Luke and Jace🥲 also inspired by close to you by gracie abrams ! pls let me know ALLL YOUR THOUGHTS!!! happy reading🫶🏼🫶🏼

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Do you think my hair will get just as luscious as yours did after you got back from Winterfell?”

Jacaerys’ rolled his eyes at his brother. They were on their second day of journey from King’s Landing to Winterfell. It was to be Cregan Stark’s name day and he had cordially invited Jacaerys and his family to the celebrations. His mother could not just leave her throne at King’s Landing, and Daemon wouldn’t go without her. Joffrey, Viserys and Aegon where still too young to go, so only Jacaerys and Luke rode to Winterfell on dragonback. They could’ve made it in one day if they had wanted to, but they were in no hurry. Well, Jacaerys wasn’t. He knew what temperatures were expecting him. Luke didn’t, which was why he was so antsy to get there and almost didn’t pack the fur lined gloves their mother had laid out for them. Jacaerys couldn’t wait until the biting, cold winds hit Luke’s face for the first time. He would treasure the memory forever.

“Har har, good one,” Jacaerys said dryly. “The court jester should watch out or you will be going for his position in no time.”

Luke grinned at his older brother wickedly, opening his mouth once more to say another jest, Jacaerys had no doubt about it, but the words died on Luke’s tongue when the winds suddenly turned cold, whipping his hair around like icicles.

“Seven hells!” he cursed and Arrax let out a soft whine, not used to the coldness, just like his rider.

“Nyke ivestretan zirȳla, paktot Vermax?” Jacaerys whispered to his dragon, stroking Vermax’ neck with his gloved hand and the creature let out a puff of smoke. I warned him, didn’t I Vermax?

It wasn’t much longer until the two brothers reached Winterfell, their dragons landing just in front of the gates of town. Jacaerys could already see Cregan’s imposing figure standing by the gate as he climbed off of Vermax, carefully patting his snout. He took the bags off his saddle, Lucerys doing the same before leaning his forehead against Vermax’.

“Sȳz valonqar. Umbagon va, ao rȳbagon issa? Se jurnegon hen syt Arrax” Good boy. Stay near, you hear me? And take care of Arrax.

Vermax let out a soft rumble, pressing his snout against Jacaerys’ hand, before he and Arrax leapt back in the air, disappearing across the woods with few wing flaps. Jacaerys wasn’t sure where exactly they went, but he assumed it was some warm cave. Winterfell didn’t exactly have a dragon pit.

“Woah,” Luke gasped, astounded by the amount of white surrounding them.

“I told you,” Jacaerys said, shouldering his bags as Cregan approached them, several pages in tow.

“Prince Jacaerys!” Cregan’s voice boomed across the snowy field, before he stopped in front of the two princes. “What an honor to have you.”

The two men sized each other up, before breaking out in laughter as Cregan pulled Jacaerys into a hug.

“It is good to see you, my friend.”

“And you, Cregan,” Jacaerys replied, patting Cregan’s back that was cloaked in a warm fur. He really ought to ask him what animal pelt it was, he never seemed to be cold. Luke was shifting on his feet next to him and Jacaerys took a step back to introduce his brother.

“Lord Cregan, this is my brother.”

“Ah, the infamous Prince Lucerys,” Cregan said with a smile, shaking Luke’s hand. Based on his face, Jacaerys could tell his brother was struggling to keep a straight face; Cregan’s handshakes were nothing but firm.

“Lord Cregan, it is an honor to finally make your acquaintance.”

“I have heard much about you.”

“Ah,” Luke sighed, hand still enclasped in Cregan’s. “I’m sure all lies.”

“Only good things, your brother has shared high praises of you.”

Luke glanced over to his brother in surprise and Jacaerys only raised his eyebrows at him. Cregan finally let go of Luke’s hand, clapping him on the shoulder, sending the younger man nearly flying.

“How old are you, Lucerys?”

“Ten and eight, my lord. And please, call me Luke.”

“Very well,” Cregan said with a grin. “You’re the prime age of a young prince, Luke. Are you courting anyone?”

“No,” Luke replied, his cheeks reddening. Jacaerys only snickered, ignoring the deathly glare his younger brother sent him.

“No worry. There are a few of very beautiful ladies that will be attending, maybe one or two will catch your royal eyes.”

Cregan gave Jacaerys a knowing look, but he only rolled his eyes, stretching his hands, the coldness starting to seep into his gloves.

“I am about to lose feeling in my limbs, can we continue this dreadful conversation inside?”

“Of course. I apologize, I forget that you are not accustomed to our weather,” Cregan said, motioning for the pages to help the them with their bags. “Let’s get you into the warm, shall we?”

Cregan lead the two brothers towards the Great Keeps, giving Luke a very brief rundown of the grounds as he did. Jacaerys could already feel his fingers warming up; he even dared to take off his gloves.

“We are currently having tea, I would love for you to join but if you wish to get some rest, we can meet again after,” Cregan said, stopping in front of the dining halls.

Jacaerys glanced over to Luke, who only gave him a shrug. “I could do with some food.”

“As do I.”

“Very well.”

Cregan pushed open the door to reveal a lively dining hall, one that Jacaerys was familiar with. He spotted faces he recognized, when his eyes stopped in the middle of the table, surprised to see Lady Alysanne Blackwood sitting next to you, someone he didn’t recognize. Immediately, you turned your head to look at him, as if you had felt his eyes on you. Jacaerys tried not to falter under your gaze.

“Who’s that?” Luke whispered and Jacaerys fought the urge to elbow him.

“The Princes Jacaerys and Lucerys Velaryon!” Cregan announced, causing a ruckus as everyone pushed their chair back to stand. You only followed after Alysanne gently nudged you, folding your hands in front.

“Thank you for having us,” Jacaerys said, him and Lucerys both bowing. “Please, sit.”

As everyone took their seats again, Cregan led him and Luke to the middle of the table, where three seats were empty next to Alysanne and you.

“My princes, may I introduce Lady Alysanne of House Blackwood and Lady-”

Jacaerys almost tuned out Cregan’s voice as he introduced you, but it was like your name was ringing in his ears. He was sure he had never been quite taken with any lady as with you right from the first meeting. Jacaerys cleared his throat, hoping his voice would come out even.

“Lady Alysanne, it’s nice to see you again,” Jacaerys said, bowing to her as Luke followed suit.

“The pleasure is mine, your graces. I hope your journey was swift,” Alysanne replied. “I hear you travelled on dragonback.”

That seemed to pique your interest as you straightened your back, eying Jacaerys with a new found interest. Jacaerys tried to ignore the heat unfurling in his lower stomach. He had seemed to take beat too long to reply, because Luke cut in, throwing a look at his older brother.

“Yes, my lady. It only took us a day and half’s journey.”

“Ah, I envy you. To travel on dragonback and have a short journey. It took me a moon’s turn to get from Raventree Hall to Winterfell,” Alysanne said with a small sigh, turning to you. “Nearly took you two moon’s turns, didn’t it?”

Jacaerys had kept his eyes steadfastly on Alysanne as she spoke, but when she turned to you, he took the chance to do the same. You nodded, fingers between the stem of the chalice you had been drinking from. His eyes lingered on your slender fingers for longer than they should have.

“Two moon’s turns is quite a long journey,” Jacaerys finally pressed out, hoping his voice didn’t sound odd. “Where in the Seven Kingdoms does your house lay?”

Your eyes met his for the first time and Jacaerys felt like he was looking in the eyes of a predator, as if he hadn’t been riding a dragon for nearly all of his life.

“I am from a land beyond Essos,” you finally spoke, voice as smooth as honey. Before you could continue, Alysanne whispered something under her breath and you let out a small laugh, shaking your pretty head, speaking again. “I’m afraid we’re not part of the Seven Kingdoms, your grace.”

The way you accentuated the honorific had Jacaerys sweat, something he never thought he’d do in Winterfell. He managed to give you a wry smile; luckily, Cregan finally gestured towards the empty seats and as Jacaerys sat down - two seats away from you - he let out a breath of relief, desperate for a quick respite. His behavior was mortifying and unbefitting for a crown prince.

“Are you alright?” Luke whispered from his left as he reached for a particularly large meat pie. “It is unlike you to let me do the talking.”

Jacaerys waited as the butler poured him some mulled wine, only stopping him when it was nearly full to the brim. He lifted the chalice, taking a big drink from it, feeling Luke’s eyes on him the whole time.

“It appears the journey has tired me more than I had expected.”

Luke narrowed his eyes at him, but as soon as he bit into the meat pie, the suspicions slid of his face.

“Seven hells, what kind of meat do they put in these?” he almost moaned, already reaching for another. Slob, Jacaerys thought, reaching for some bread himself, leaving his brother to his own world as he discovered the cuisine of the North. Jacaerys glanced over to his friend, but Cregan was in the middle of a conversation with Alysanne; they were speaking in hushed tones, Jacaerys could barely make out a word even though he was sitting right next to them.

The way Cregan was whispering to Alysanne suggested a certain familiarity; a familiarity that Jacaerys was surprised by; he hadn’t known that Cregan had taken on a lover, and Alysanne no less, though he could see what had drawn his friend to her.

Jacaerys didn’t pay attention for half a second before his eyes impulsively laid on you. He didn’t want to be caught staring, but you seemed preoccupied listening to Alysanne as she talked, so he allowed himself a few moments to take you in. Your hair fell over your shoulder in soft waves, the bodice of your dress was snug around your chest. The more he looked, the dryer his throat became, suddenly the bread in his mouth tasted days old. Letting out a soft cough, Jacaerys reached for his wine, nearly finishing all of it in one to, desperate to quench his thirst.

He wondered if all women from your land looked like you or if it was just you that had him so enthralled. Jacaerys was lost in thoughts so deeply, he didn’t even realize that Cregan had turned his attention to him.

“Did someone catch your eye?”

“What?”

Jacaerys teared his eyes from you to look at his friend, who was sipping on his wine, eyebrows raised. Despite trying to seem nonchalant, the crown prince knew a pink flush creeped on his cheeks; he’d blame it on the wine if Cregan would ask.

“I was enjoying the festivities.”

“You’re surely enjoying something.”

“I’m positively not enjoying this conversation,” Jacaerys sniffed. Cregan laughed, placing his heavy hand on his shoulder. Jacaerys tried not to falter under it.

“I like her. She’s a good friend of Lady Alysanne’s. Though if her behavior grates you: her land does not have a king or queen, so she might not be familiar with our customs. She is also especially forward; I fear that was a given, considering the company she seeks.”

Jacaerys knew immediately what Cregan was alluding to. Alysanne had a reputation for not holding her tongue when something displeased her, there were a good handful of people who quite dislike her for it.

“I’m sure you will get along with her fine, my prince.”

Jacaerys hummed, glancing over to you for a split second before looking away for fear of being caught again, but in doing so, he missed you looking back at him with raised brows. After the table was cleared, you and Alysanne excused yourselves to your chambers. Jacaerys stared after you until you disappeared from sight, his hands clasped.

“Let me show you to your chambers for some rest,” Cregan offered. “Jacaerys, I had the same chambers prepared as last time.”

The three men walked through the hallways of Winterfell once more, stopping in front of Jacaerys’ chambers.

“Someone will fetch you for supper, please get some rest in the meantime,” Cregan said, clasping Jacaerys on the back. Jacaerys glanced over at Luke, who waved him off, so he entered his chambers as Cregan walked Luke to his, with the latter chattering excitedly.

As the door shut behind Jacaerys, the chambers were engulfed in silence and he was finally able to breathe. The room was comfortably decorated, of course in no way as lavish as his chambers in King’s Landing, but everything he would need was there. Taking off his cloak and his doublet, Jacaerys hung them over the small bench that sat near the fire, before he laid down on the bed, staring up the canopy with a sigh.

Gods, he really needed to get it together. He would not allow himself to act like such a fool in front of you again. He couldn’t even understand what it was about you that had him so shaken to the core. Jacaerys had never been the kind of man who stuttered around when it came to women. He knew what he had to offer, he knew a lot of women found his status appealing. But something about you was just…. Infuriating. It made him lose his footing.

Jacaerys was still questioning his life choices that led to this moment, when the door suddenly flung open, and he knew immediately who it was without having to move; there was only one person in whole Winterfell who would barge into his chambers like this.

“Your chambers are so much nicer than mine!” Luke crowed, throwing his hands up in the air before he dropped onto the bed next to Jacaerys. “I do have to say, even though it is freezing outside, the Northeners know how to keep it comfy in their chambers.”

Jacaerys let out a small sigh.

“What are you doing here, Luke?”

“Gods, why are you such in a sour mood?”

“Maybe because I am tired from the journey and you’re sitting here talking about meaningless things,” Jacaerys lamented with a pointed look in his younger brother’s direction, who only pursed his lips, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Let me move onto meaningful topics then,” he agreed. “You didn’t tell me Lord Cregan is betrothed to Lady Alysanne.”

“He’s not, as far as I know,” Jacaerys replied, resigning himself to the fact that Luke wasn’t going to leave anytime soon. “I was taken by surprise just as you were.”

Luke didn’t answer; for a brief second Jacaerys wondered if he had fallen asleep, and he wasn’t sure if he’d be happy about or not.

“What did you think of her friend?” Luke finally asked and Jacaerys rolled his eyes. There it was. “She’s pretty, right? I think she might be interested in me.”

“What makes you think she would be interested in you?” Jacaerys pressed out, annoyed. He knew Luke was baiting him, but what if he wasn’t? His younger brother turned over to look at him, the corners of his mouth tugging up.

“I knew it. You’re absolutely smitten with her.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I barely exchanged two words with her,” Jacaerys said defensively.

“Exactly. She makes you shiver in your boots like a child and swallow your words like Vermax does goats.”

“Blasphemous,” Jacaerys snapped, his cheeks growing hot. “I’m the Crown Prince of the Seven Realms, I do not get flustered around a lady.”

“I cannot wait until you talk to her again,” Luke remarked gleefully.

Jacaerys reached over to grab one of the fluffy pillows that was resting against the headboard to whack Luke in the face with it.

The next day, Jacaerys found himself with some time by himself. Cregan was greeting some more of the guests that were arriving for his celebration that evening, and Luke had wanted to see the training grounds of Winterfell, so Jacaerys ventured out by himself, walking the walls. He passed a few guards, who bowed respectfully as they marched past him. They asked if he got lost, if they should walk him back inside where it was warm, but he declined.

Despite the cold snow that was falling from the sky, Jacaerys enjoyed leaving the castle for a few moments. Winterfell was peaceful, the white that covered the grounds allowed him to breathe, a stark contrast to the grounds of King’s Landing. As the cold winds started to pick up, Jacaerys turned to head back, but he stopped in his tracks when he saw you standing by yourself at the wall, staring out at the distance. Jacaerys hesitated.

His interaction with you last night at supper was… Passable. He had managed to keep the conversation going, he still wasn't happy with himself. But this was unfamiliar territory, he hadn’t ever been alone with you. What if he made a fool of himself?

Before Jacaerys could decide what to do, his feet already carried him over to you. At the sounds of the snow crunching under his soled shoes, you turned around, your eyebrows risen in surprise. Your cheeks were red from the cold, despite the fur-lined cloak that engulfed your shoulders.

“Oh, it’s you,” you said, your breath visible in the cold air.

“Only me,” Jacaerys confirmed, bowing his head slightly in greeting. You did the same. “Come out here for some quiet?”

“Something like that, “ you sighed, eyeing him briefly. Jacaerys tried not to flinch at the clear rejection and pressed his lips together.

“I should leave-”

“No, please, don’t leave on my behalf…. My prince.”

You added the honorific after a brief pause, and Jacaerys stayed rooted in his spot. You seemed like you were in deep thought, and your voice was hesitant when you spoke again.

“I am unsure as to what the difference is, if I’m being quite honest. Do you want me to refer to you as my prince or as your Grace?”

“You can refer to me as anything you want,” Jacaerys said quickly. Too quickly.

The frown on your face smoothed, a grin growing in its stead. “Indeed?”

“I meant,” Jacaerys pressed, trying to sustain any sort of dignity. “You’re not from Westeros, you do not need to address me as your Grace or my prince.”

“I wouldn’t want to seem disrespectful,” you added. “Folks are already whispering about the “foreign lady”, I do not wish to give them more reason to be suspicious.”

Jacaerys felt a flash of hot anger coursing through him at the belief of anyone uttering a bad word about you.

“Are you being mistreated, my lady?”

A laugh escaped your lips. “I did not tell for you to fight in my honor, I have endured worse than some meaningless gossip.”

You tossed your hair back, and for a brief second, your scent carried over to Jacaerys’ nose. You smelled… Sweet. A scent that was unfamiliar to him, but not exactly unwelcome. With a small sigh, you turned your head to look at him. Damn it, did you say something?

“So... Your grace or my prince?”

For some reason, either address didn’t feel right. Well. They felt right, but not right. Never before had Jacaerys felt anything when being referred to with the correct title except for a sense of respect and pride that he was being recognized for his status. But for some reason, having you address him with either had Jacaerys feel things in regions where he shouldn’t. And both seem equally catastrophic.

“Either is fine,” he finally settled on. “But if no one is around… It is alright for you to call me by my given name.”

“Jacaerys?”

A shiver ran down his spine at the sound of his name rolling of your tongue so easily. He was done for. No matter what you referred to him as, it made him weak in the knees.

“Or Jace.”

“Is that not improper?” you asked. “I would hate for folks to think I’m getting too familiar with the crown prince.”

He definitely wouldn’t mind getting too familiar with you.

“My friends call me that… And people that I’m close with.”

A corner of your mouth tugged up in a grin. “You wish to be close with me?”

Jacaerys flushed, stuttering. “I-“

“I’m only jesting,” you said, your gloved hand reaching out to touch his arm and even though there were about five layers between, Jacaerys could *feel* your skin on his. He was in trouble. “I will address you properly in public but if no one is around, Jacaerys….”

Your voice trailed off and you took a step towards him, leaning in so you could speak to him in a small whisper.

“I hope we can become friends.”

With that, you bowed your head, stepping back and turned to depart, leaving Jacaerys standing by himself. He exhaled a breath - a breath he had not realized he had been holding this whole time.

Somewhere in the distance, Jacaerys could hear Vermax screech out, no doubtedly feeling exactly what his dragon rider was struggling with.

“Yes, Vermax, you and me both,” Jacaerys muttered with a small sigh, enduring the cold for a little while longer before he retired inside, knowing he had to start getting ready for Cregan’s celebrations soon.

“How much longer are you going to stare at your reflection?”

Jacaerys resisted the impulse to roll his eyes. He was tense enough as it was, giving into Luke’s teasing was not going to help it.

“I’m representing mother at this celebration, a single hair out of place and rumors about my legitimacy as heir might start,” Jacaerys pointed out, wiping off the fleck of dusts that sat on the shoulder of his doublet.

“Of course, we would not want that,” Luke said, his voice taking that annoying tone which Jacaerys knew meant he wasn’t taking him serious. “You are most certainly not trying to look absolutely perfect for a certain lady.”

Jacaerys met Luke’s eyes through the mirror, his forehead creased. “I did not ask you to wait for me. No one is stopping you from going by yourself.”

Luke sighed, pushing himself off of the bench to approach him, hands reaching out to smooth out Jacaerys’ cloak.

“And who is going to tame that one wild curl that always does whatever it wants at the back of your head?”

Jacaerys winced when Luke gently tugged on said curl, setting it in its place, before the younger prince grinned at him through the reflection as the two of them stood in front of the mirror, Luke's shoulders slightly higher than Jacaerys'. He despised the fact that his younger brother was starting to overtake him in height. Jacaerys hoped that Joffrey would stay shorter than him.

“You look fine, Jace,” Luke assured him. “And even if a hair might be out of place, she will think it charming.”

Jacaerys decided against deeming that comment with an answer, instead straightening his shoulders.

“Let’s go then.”

The two brothers headed the the Great Hall and the closer they got, the louder the music became. Jacaerys tried not to pick on his clothes as they walked through the hallways, knowing he was just being antsy at this point. When they finally reached the threshold of the hall, the herald bowed to them both respectfully, waiting until the music quietened down, the guests looking at them.

“Presenting His Grace, Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, heir to the Iron Throne, and his brother, Prince Lucerys Velaryon of House Targaryen!” the herald announced.

The guests all bowed, which Jacaerys and Lukereturned, before they were being led to their seats and Jacaerys tried not to stumble over his feet when he realized that Cregan had sat Luke to his right, whereas Jacaerys sat next to him.

Right next to you.

Jacaerys ignored Luke’s smirk as he sat down, and instead offered you a small smile.

“My lady.”

“Your grace.”

You sent him a conspiratorial smile, before your attention refocused to Cregan, who suddenly stood, lifting his chalice.

"Good evening, my dear guests. On this occasion, the celebration of my name day, I am deeply honored to be surrounded by such loyal friends, family, and allies. I thank everyone who made their long and burdensome journey to celebrate this day with me. Raise your cups, my friends, enjoy the festivities, the music and most importantly, the food. Now, let the feast begin!"

Everyone clapped as Cregan took his seat again, the lively music beginning to play. Immediately, people rose to occupy the dancefloor. You stayed seated, sipping on your wine and Jacaerys watched you out of the corner of his eye, reaching for his own wine, hoping it would ease his nerves. You looked pretty; wearing a dark red dress, the fabric seeming to melt against your skin like it was sown onto your body. Jacaerys tried to not let his gaze linger too much on your cleavage, which was tasteful, but still incredibly distracting. He couldn’t help but think how you and him seemed to be dressed to compliment each other.

“You look very beautiful,” Jacaerys blurted out. You turned to him, eyebrows risen in surprise and his cheeks reddened. “I apologize if it was too forward, I-”

“You look very handsome yourself,” you said, returning the favor with a grin. “At least I know what took you so long to get here.”

By now, Jacaerys was sure that the color of his face rivaled the color of your dress.

“Thank you,” he said, fingers tracing the stem of the chalice. “I try to look my best.”

“It is working in your favor, my prince,” you all but purred quietly, making Jacaerys grip his chalice so tightly, his knuckles turned white.

“Are you alright?”

“Fine,” Jacaerys pressed out, letting a small sigh pass his lips. “I apologize. I am usually more… Composed,” he admitted. You raised an eyebrow at him, but he couldn’t help but feel like you were biting back a smile.

“And you’re not composed right now?”

“No. You…” he paused, letting go of the chalice, stretching his hand out. “You make me nervous.”

He dared to look up to you, searching for any sign of distaste, only to see your gaze focused on his hands, before you lifted your eyes to meet his.

“How?”

“You vex me.”

“In a good way, I hope.”

Jacaerys let out a breathless laughter, shaking his head. “In a very much not good way. This is not behavior befit for a crown prince.”

“Well, it’s just your luck that I have not a single idea of what behavior is befit for a crown prince,” you assured him, placing your hand on his, presumably to console him. It had quite the opposite reaction. “It is just me, you may speak freely.”

“I-” Jacaerys paused, his eyes darting around the countless of guests mingling in the Great Hall, the threat of a listening ear everywhere. “I cannot.”

You nodded in understanding, but Jacaerys could tell that his answer had disappointed you by the way you turned your head away from him. Silently, he cursed himself, feeling the desire for you coiling in his stomach, but unable to act on it.

For the rest of the night, Jacaerys tried to pick up the conversation with you again, and while you did speak with him, it seemed dull, like you were uninterested. He felt incredibly stupid, knowing he had messed up, but despite that, he couldn’t jump over his shadow to address the problem. So he didn’t. He pushed his disappointment in himself aside and tried his best to control the jealousy he felt whenever you accepted the dance of another man, acting like didn’t care at all, especially when Luke was watching, shaking his head.

Cregan was luckily too busy to entertain his guests to meddle, occasionally drawing Jacaerys into his side to clink their cups. Overall, (despite his personal failings) the celebration was a success. It was late in the night, nearing the hour of the wolf when Jacaerys finally retired to his chambers. He had dropped Luke off at his own chambers just before, his younger brother having one too many of the mulled wine and immediately dozing off in clothes.

Shutting the door with his foot, Jacaerys unpinned his cloak, tugging his doublet off, draping it over the small ottoman. His hands were in the collar of his tunic, ready to take it off when short raps on his door made him pause. Was that Cregan fetching him for another drink?

Jacaerys opened the door and his eyebrows rising in surprise when he saw who it was.

“My lady…”

You were standing in front of him, dark cloak slung around your shoulders, about the last person he had expected to come knocking on his door after his last conversation with you had gone. Your face was bare from any trace of cosmetics, but your cheeks still held a rosy glow. Jacaerys peered out into the dark hallway, expecting a handmaiden or anyone accompanying you, but alas, you were by yourself.

“It is late. Is something the matter?” he asked, concerned.

“Everything is fine,” you assured him. “I was feeling a bit restless, I was wondering if you were up for some company?”

Despite feeling exhausted just a few seconds ago, Jacaerys was wide awake now, his heart thrumming with excitement at the prospect of spending time with you alone. But he couldn’t help but hesitate, questioning whether it was smart of him to put himself in a situation he couldn’t control, especially with you.

You sensed his hesitation, tilting your head curiously.

“I can leave, if you wish.”

Before you could even attempt to retreat, Jacaerys’ hand shot out to stop you, and as he saw the amusement on your face, he knew you had never intended to leave.

Minx, he thought to himself, opening his door wider to let you inside. Swiftly, you passed by him and Jacaerys made sure no one saw you enter, before shutting the door. As he turned around, he found you had already settled on the cushioned couch, appearing comfortably at ease.

“These are usually my chambers I stay in when I visit Winterfell,” you said nonchalantly, taking in the chambers and Jacaerys’ possessions that laid scattered around. “You can imagine my surprise when Cregan told me it was occupied for someone else when I arrived.”

Jacaerys tried not to imagine you laying in his bed as he sat down on the bench.

“They are the chambers I stayed in when I visited last time. I assume Cregan wanted me to feel comfortable.”

“The lengths we would go to to make sure you felt comfortable,” you said with a look in his direction and Jacaerys flushed, clearing his throat.

“Do you like these chambers for a reason or are you merely a creature of habit?”

“These are the only chambers that don’t have the fire place directly facing the bed,” you explained, your arms gesturing to the layout of the chambers.

“I know the Northeners like to keep the fire on at night to feel cozy, but I tend to get a little… Hot.”

Oh.

His mouth ran a little dry and he only managed to blink at you, as you grinned, your eyes slowly trailing down his body.

“I imagine it is the same for you. What is it again, the motto of your house?”

Jacaerys opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out of it.

“Fire and blood?” finally pressed out and you arched an eyebrow at him.

“Are you asking or telling me?”

“Telling.”

Your mouth quirked up in a smirk and you brushed your hair back with a flick. “I must say, I have to admit that I thought you less nervous when no one was around.”

“You thought me less nervous when it is just you and I alone in a room?”

“Now when you say it like that…” you mused. “I told you that you do not have to worry about your behavior, I do not know any of the rules you have to abide by.”

“That’s not why I’m nervous,” Jacaerys said with a small laugh and you creased your forehead, looking at him questioningly.

“Is that not what you told me at supper?”

Jacaerys sighed, a chuckle leaving his lips and he had no other choice than to confess.

“You make me nervous because I do not know how to act around you. You make me stutter, lose my footing. I was never anything less than charming when it comes to talking to ladies, but you for some reason…”

Your face contorted from confusion to understanding and then glee.

“And I was starting to think you were letting me down easy.”

“I- what?” The indignation in Jacaerys’ tone made you laugh. “Let you down? Surely you must be jesting.”

“What was I to think? I was not exactly being subtle, my prince.”

Jacaerys bit down on his lower lip, nearly hard enough to draw blood, but he eased off.

“I’m trying my best to uphold my honor. And yours.”

You let out a small laugh, lifting your hand to deftly unhook your cloak. Jacaerys averted his eyes as soon as the cloak slid off your shoulders, but he could see out of the corner of his eyes that you were wearing nothing but a nightgown with long lacey sleeves. Jacaerys had never seen a nightgown like that before.

“Would it not be dishonorable to deny yourself what you truly want?”

Jacaerys dared to glance at you, swallowing thickly when he realized that you had come closer, his eyes roaming over your exposed skin. He exhaled sharply, feeling his cock stirring in his breeches, thankful that his tunic was untucked, covering his excitement.

“What if your future husband would cast you aside knowing you have laid with another man?”

You smiled at him, your hand reaching out to trace the neckline of his tunic.

“I think if my husband were to cast me aside for enjoying the pleasure of sex, he is not the right man for me.”

Jacaerys held his breath as you looked at him through your lashes. He managed to stay strong for about three more seconds, before he let out a frustrated groan, his hand curling around to pull you close, pressing his lips on yours.

You sighed softly into the kiss, your mouth pliable as Jacaerys moved against them, the kiss nearly driving him insane.

He needed more.

Tightening his grip on your waist, Jacaerys pulled you into his lap, situating your legs on either side of him.

“I have been going insane,” Jacaerys whispered against your lips, his finger tips dancing up your arm. “Trying to keep my composure, act like a prince, but one look from you and I lost the ability to string a sentence together.”

“Please,” you gasped as his hand wrapped around the back of your head to tilt it back, placing featherlight kisses on the column of your neck.” Cregan was telling me to behave - for once - because his great friend, the crown prince of the Seven Realms was to attend his nameday celebrations, but how could I when you’re just so-”

Your sentence trailed off in a sigh and Jacaerys pulled back to look at you, an eyebrow arched.

“I am so...?”

“Infuriatingly handsome.” Your voice was breathless as you spoke, hands slipping under his tunic and Jacaerys lifted his arms to help you take it off before you discarded it to the floor carelessly. “Like you were carved out of marble.”

You caressed him with your fingertips over his chest, your touch so tantalizing he had to shift his hips to ease the pressure on his breeches, a motion that did not go unignored by you at the sound of the small whimper that left your mouth, a sound that went directly to his south. He leaned in to kiss you again, before maneuvering you off his lap, standing so he could lead you over to the bed. His touch was gentle, but firm as you followed his lead to lay down at the edge of the bed, your nightgown bunching up at your calves.

“You don’t even know the affect you have on me… You had me on my knees,” he murmured, pushing your gown up. “I’m the crown prince of the seven realms. I don’t kneel for anyone.”

He might make an exception for you.

With his hands on your calves, pulling you closer, Jacaerys got to his knees, peppering small kisses on your inner thigh, making you squirm. He could smell the warmth of your musk as he neared your cunt, your smallclothes displaying a small patch of wetness he couldn’t help but be thrilled by.

“Lift your hips,” Jacaerys said, and when you did, he tugged your smallclothes off easily. He let out a soft breath when coming face to face with your cunt, sliding one finger through your folds. The moan out of your mouth sounded like heaven to him.

“Jace…” you sighed and his breeches got impossibly tighter, but he wanted you to finish first before he could even think about himself. Jacaerys applied a little pressure on your pearl with his thumb, inching closer, his breath hot on your lips before he licked a strip up your cunt. You responded with a small groan, your hands tangled into his locks and he knew he was on the right track.

He kept drawing circles on the small nub over your cunt, his tongue exploring between your folds, trying to elicit every moan and sigh out of your mouth possible, repeating his motions that seemed to please you the most. Soon, Jacaerys had you writhing on his bed, your hand tightened around his hair in a grip that nearly hurt, but he didn’t care.

“Jacaerys…” you breathed out, your hips lifting from the bed; he merely pushed it down with his free hand. “Don’t- I’m so..”

Jacaerys nuzzled his mouth even further into your cunt he not thought possible, the circles he was drawing onto your pearl becoming tighter, smaller until you let out an especially loud moan of his name, your cunt pulsating.

With a breath heave, you fell back into the cushions and Jacaerys pulled back from between your legs, not without leaving a lingering kiss on your inner thigh. You looked absolutely marvelous, blissed out on his bed, your sweaty hair sticking to your forehead. If he had to guess, he must not look any better, his entire face must be covered in you.

“Is this behavior befit for a crown prince?” you asked, chest still heaving. Jacaerys quirked a smile at you, brushing his hair back.

“For a lady like you, without question.”

A small laughter escaped your lips, and you tugged him down to kiss him, your hands slipping beneath his trousers and then his breeches, wrapping around his cock. Jacaerys hissed, bucking into your hands, realizing he was still fully clothes from the waist down. Giving you one last kiss, he reluctantly pulled away from you, taking his boots off, and then slowly pushing his trousers off, his smallclothes along with it.

He couldn’t help but flush as he stood in front of your inquisitive eyes, still wearing your nightgown but looking incredibly debauched, your gaze… Hungry. He got on the bed, crawling towards you on his knees, fingers gingerly pushing your nightgown off your shoulders - you didn’t lift a hand to help him, but merely watched as his eyes grew wide when he finally pushed your nightgown down, as it pooled around your waist.

“You were made by the gods,” he mumbled into your skin, mouth latching on the sensitive skin of your tits, his other hand gently rolling your nipples until it formed into a stiff peak. He leaned up, kissing you deeply and as he moaned into your mouth, he pulled away, breathing hard.

“Do you…” he trailed off, unsure how to word it.

“I will die an immediate death if I don’t,” you said, extremely serious. “Lay back.”

As Jacaerys settled into the mountain of cushions, you knelt in front of him, nightgown long gone. You positioned yourself over his lap, just as he had earlier, hand wrapping around his cock to guide it to your cunt, which was still sopping wet. Jacaerys let out a slow, guttural groan as you lowered yourself onto his cock, until he was fully sheated inside of you.

“Are you feeling alright?” he pressed out, his hands finding your hips to pull out incase you were feeling uncomfortable.

“Perfect,” you breathed, lips parted and eyes hooded. You leaned a hand on his chest, impulsively rolling your hips and Jacaerys moaned, throwing his head back. Slowly, the two of you found your rhythm as you rode him, in slow, but deep hip thrusts. His chambers was filled with the sound of skin hitting skin, whispers of his name and moans of yours. It wasn’t long until Jacaerys felt the familiar tension in his lower stomach, knowing he was close, while you were still moving on top of him, head thrown back.

If he had it his way, he would shoot his load into you, making you his, but the last thing he wanted was to trap you, so he stilled your hips, holding you in place and turning you so he was on top of you. Your hair fanned out on the bed, and Jacaerys kissed you, tongue licking into your mouth as he drove his cock into you with deep, but slow thrusts; his thumb was pressing into your pearl simultaneously.

“Jace,” you whined, your walls clenching and he nearly lost it right then and there. “Please…”

Jacaerys snapped his hips into you harder, leaning his head against yours as he did and after one particular deep thrust, you held onto his bicep as you moaned his name in a way that would ingrain into his brain for the rest of his life and he quickly pulled out, before he emptied his load in thick, white spurts onto your stomach. With a small groan, Jacaerys collapsed onto the bed next to you, neither speaking for a few seconds, catching your breath.

Jacaerys was the first to rise, pushing his hair back, standing to find a wet rag to clean you up. His touch was gentle as he cleaned your stomach, disposing of the dirty rag, lingering on the side of the bed.

“Do you want to stay? For a little while, at least?”

You turned your head to look at him, corners of your mouth tugging up. “If you’ll have me, my prince.”

Jacaerys snorted out a laughter, settling into bed next to you, making sure to pull up the blanket to cover your naked body, even though a warmth was emanating from you, it was rivaling his own.

“Are you sure you’re not a distant kin of Aegon the Conqueror?” he asked, pressing a soft kiss on your shoulder. “You would fit right into our house.”

“I find it very flattering that you think I have royal blood in me,” you laughed as your fingertips traced along his arm.

“It is only a question,” Jacaerys mused. “I think you would get along well with my mother.”

“A foreign girl in front of the esteemed queen of the Seven Realms? I wouldn’t stand a chance. Her royal knights would behead me as soon as I curtsied the wrong way.”

And as the fire crackled in the far corner of the chambers, pressed against your side, Jacaerys knew that while you spoke in jest, he wouldn’t mind you meeting his mother, even if that was highly unlikely. Coming the following morning it seemed like he would never see you again, with you returning home and him returning to King’s Landing.

And while he was a dragon rider, he wasn’t sure if that distance would be easy for him to cover, considering the fact he had duties he had to attend to, he couldn't just leave whenever he pleased, no matter how much he wanted to.

“I really enjoyed your company,” you then said, your voice a bittersweet tone. Jacaerys pressed his nose against your neck, biting back the question if you wanted to come with him, see King’s Landing. He knew he was being foolish.

“As did I yours.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author's note: hehehehehe did u like it?

#jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys x reader #prince jacaerys #jacaerys x you #jacaerys smut #hotd #house of the dragon #jace x reader #jace x you #jacaerys velaryon fanfiction #jacaerys velaryon fanfic #jacaerys velaryon imagine #jacaerys velaryon fic

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vividxpages · 7 months ago

Text

౨ৎ˚⟡.⭒˚no parents, big house⭒˚⟡˚౨ৎ

pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!Reader

words: 4400

summary: with his family out of the house for one night, Jacaerys and you decide to make the most of it.

warnings: modern au, established relationship, domestic fluff, wine drinking, they’re both just really in love with each other, smut (making out, dry humping)

a/n: This is my first time writing smut for Jacaerys, I hope you like it, let’s get through this big hiatus and be good to each other! <3

-⋆ ˚｡⋆୨🤍🍕💋୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

When you rang the doorbell of the Targaryen-Strong household, you could already hear screeching coming from behind the door.

Smiling to yourself, you shifted on your feet, the staple of pizza cartons in your hand warm on your palm. A bag hung over your shoulder and excited shivers ran through you at the prospect of spending the entire night over at Jace’s place.

Your boyfriend’s mother and her husband had decided to go out tonight, a rather rare occurrence with multiple boys under their roof and Jace and you had decided to make the most of it. Privacy often was an unknown word here and to both Jace’s and your embarrassment, the two had been caught making out on his bed (in various states of undressing) by his siblings enough times already.

Tonight though, there had been a compromise.

Jace was allowed to spend the night with you, but only if Lucerys took the others to see a movie tonight and the brothers were in charge of making dinner for everyone beforehand. Jacaerys had agreed in a heartbeat and butterflies had taken wing in your stomach when he texted you the plan later, accompanied by three red hearts.

Although Jace was a decent cook – you could confirm this, talking from experience – the pizza had been your idea. And if Jace’s brothers did not love you enough already, the door opened and you and the stacks of pizza were greeted with shouting and frantic hugs before these whirlwinds of dark curly hair disappeared down the hallway in excited chatter and you stood face to face with your boyfriend.

“Hi.” You smiled brightly as he quickly took your important delivery from you.

“Hi.” He breathed, a faint blush coloring his cheeks as always when you two shared a moment. He was wearing his favorite pair of gray joggers and a white shirt, his hair adorably put back in a bun that had you staring at him, utterly in love and anticipating your stay in his home tonight.

Behind his back, a sudden scream could be heard and a pillow flew through the air. You grimaced at the chaos seemingly going on in the living room and your boyfriend’s nostrils flared in annoyance as he threw a stern look over his shoulder.

“I swear they were behaving before; I think we had too many sugar cookies earlier.” He sighed, stepping aside to let you in, his hands subconsciously finding your waist on its own. You leaned up and pressed a small kiss to his cheek, inhaling the delicious smell of his cologne.

“Don’t worry, I’m not your mom.” You joked. You two quickly closed the door, not wanting the neighbors to suspect someone was getting murdered in here.

He chuckled. “Lucky me then.” Into the vague direction of the living room down the hall, he ordered: “Guys, be quiet or we’re going to eat all this pizza by ourselves and I tell mom you’ve terrorized me and Luke all evening.”

This threat brought silence to the house and you snorted.

“Always works.” He told you before grabbing your hand and leading you to the massive living room, big panorama windows offering a look into the garden of the property. Luke was waving at you from the kitchen, his smile still a little sour since he had to take care of their smaller brothers for tonight, as he prepared plates for everyone.

The twins, now relatively calm and obedient, sat side by side on the couch, smiling brightly at you. You dropped your bag by the staircase, kneeling in front of them and ruffling their light hair. “Hey, you two. Jace told me you’re watching a movie tonight?”

Jacaerys adoringly smiled at you as you talked to his baby brothers, his heart melting as always when he could see how well you were getting along with his family. You had been over enough times to earn yourself a permanent spot in the hearts of all his family members and it fulfilled him deeply to know you were his and you belonged with them just as you belonged with him.

Soon, his family was going to go on vacation and last week, his mother had told him she would be delighted to have you there with them as well. He could’ve cried with happiness and the two of you certainly had celebrated, in your own way.

But tonight, he couldn’t wait to play house with you, only for a little while until you were going to move in with each other one day.

“Thank you for the pizza.” Luke mumbled through his bites and you waved it off, leaning into Jace’s side as the group all settled down on the big couch in the middle of the room. You tugged your legs underneath you and sighed happily as you bit into your first piece, one of Jace’s hands that wasn’t occupied with his own slice resting on your naked thigh.

It had been hot outside tonight and you were still wearing shorts. While you listened to the twins’ stories and chatted with Luke, Jace began to slowly circle his thumb on your knee, the gesture as delicate as the brush of a feather. But it was enough to make you falter, all your nerves seeming to travel down to the small patch of skin being touched by him.

It was enough to distract you and yet, it wasn’t nearly enough.

But this sweet torture of his and inevitably, you giving in to it, had to wait for now.

“Want a slice of mine?” You asked him sweetly, offering him a piece of your pizza covered with cherry tomatoes, arugula and hearty cheese. He nodded, leaning forward and letting himself be fed by you. When you wiped a little blob of sauce from the corner of his lips, Luke had enough.

“Can’t you use your own hands, Jace?” He teased, a knowing grin on his mischievous face.

“Aren’t you supposed to leave to see the movie soon?” Jace shot back, unbothered and unashamed as you laughed and licked your finger clean, causing Joffrey to watch the two of you with a disgusted face. Once, when he still had been a little smaller, he had compared the two of you to his own parents because of the way you always gravitated towards each other, always touching when you could, but you couldn’t be sure he wasn’t regretting this comparison now.

Luke looked to the clock on the wall, startling. “Oh shit, we’re going to be late.”

“Oh shit.” The twins echoed and the two older brothers shared a look.

“If anyone asks, I’ll tell them you taught them this.” Jace declared nonchalantly and Luke groaned, taking his plate to the kitchen and telling everyone wanting to see Paw Patrol tonight to hurry up.

You chuckled, kissing Jace’s bony shoulder and standing up as well, taking his plate from him.

“No, no, I’m not letting you wash our dishes, you’re my guest tonight.” He protested and took them to the sink himself. You once again shivered at his words, the prospect of having the whole house to yourselves for a few hours more than enough to spark your wildest fantasies of him…

There was some hustling and bustling going on in the hallway as Jace and you worked together by the sink - a compromise because you always wanted to help - before Joffrey shouted a quick goodbye to you.

“Do you guys want ice cream?” Luke asked his brothers on their way out and Jace groaned, quickly shouting after them: “Don’t give them more sugar!” The door fell shut behind them and soon, you heard the engine of Jace’s car start.

“Don’t worry too much about them.” You told him softly, seeing the way Jace bit on his bottom lip, a common sign that he was overthinking. “They’ll be fine.”

“I know…” He took one of the plates you held up and dunked them into the full sink. “I’m very happy you’re here tonight. I was thinking about it all day.”

“Me too.” You whispered, suddenly short of breath.

It wasn’t the first time you were sleeping over, but with a house full of people, indulging intimacy with your boyfriend was…difficult. Dinners were spent by the big table with his family and once you retreated into his room upstairs – sometimes after roasting marshmallows over the fire pit outside or playing board games with his competitive parents – the two of you were mostly too tired to stay up any longer. Jace shared a bathroom with Luke, so taking advantage of the luxurious big shower was too risky, and the walls were not as thick as you would’ve guessed for such a big mansion.

So, most of these nights ended cuddled together in his bed, sated and happy and tired, sleepily kissing each other in the darkness until you either fell asleep together or Jace would sneak his warm hands underneath his sleeping shirt on you, ghosting over your body until you’d eventually let out a needy whimper he had to cut off with a kiss or his hand. How often had you come around his skilled fingers, silencing your little moans and gasps in the crook of his neck or breathing them into his mouth? And how often had he softly bitten your neck or shoulder to stifle his moans while you sweetly jerked him to completion, giggling to yourself when he had to stagger out of bed shortly afterwards to find a tissue for your sticky hand?

“Is there something you’d like to do?” Jace asked you, ever so eager to make sure you were the most comfortable you could be. You thought of the sun chairs outside on the terrace and how lovely it was the stargaze together or the pool, its crystal-clear waters flickering seducingly. You thought of the shower, your gaze flickering down to Jace’s subtle but strong muscles, subconsciously licking your lips.

But you also had not seen him all week and you desperately wanted to relish the quietness of his home with him before everyone else came back later tonight.

You shrugged, a shy smile tugging at your lips. “I just like to be with you. Maybe we can finish up here and watch a movie and cuddle?”

Jace wanted to melt at your innocent suggestion. “Sounds perfect to me. I’ll dry the plates; you grab us two glasses? Dad brought a fancy wine yesterday.”

You found the bottle in question quickly, your eyes widening at the fancy label around it. “I’m not sure if this is meant for us, Jacey. This is expensive-expensive.”

Jacaerys threw the towel over his shoulder, lacing your fingers together and pulling you to him. You had listened to the radio as you worked and an old school love song was echoing through the kitchen now, your boyfriend goofily swaying to the beat and wrapping his arms around you. “I’ll buy a new one first thing tomorrow. We can act like we’re adults tonight.”

“Jace, we are adults.” You laughed as he twirled you, your arms wrapping around his neck and fingers playing with the stray curls in his nape. You sloppily swayed to the beat, lost in each other’s eyes and smiles and you knew you were not ever going to love anyone else the way you loved Jacaerys. There wasn’t space for anyone else, because you were sure your whole heart only consisted of him.

Eventually, you filled – and emptied - those wine glasses and danced through the kitchen, your laughter echoing through the house, making it your home for the night. You exchanged some giddy kisses and his lips tasted like heavy wine and when you pulled back, his dark eyes laid hazily on you.

Your gaze flickered down to his mouth once more, the wine in your system making it hard to think.

After a moment, he swallowed hard and tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear.

Neither of you had any idea how you managed to stick to the movie, but a little later, you found yourself on the couch, one leg thrown over Jace’s, your head safely nestled in the crook of his neck. Jace had dimmed down the lights of the living room and prepared a bowl of snacks for the two of you while you had changed into something more comfortable.

Now, it had gotten dark outside and the black void of the garden rested to your left while Jace rested his chin on your head, absently picking up some popcorn from time to time as you watched the movie. Earlier, you almost could’ve not hidden the mischievous grin on your face as you quickly snuck under the blankets on the couch, Jace’s back still turned to you. You had picked one of his soft shirts to wear and underneath it, which he had not noticed yet, you were only wearing panties. The lacy, soft pink ones he loved oh so very much.

Jace had returned to caress you mindlessly, his fingers wandering up and down your naked leg and the steady motion made your eyelids drop from time to time, a small yawn escaping you as you nuzzled your face in his neck.

Jace squirmed, not entirely unpleasant. “Hey…’m ticklish.”

“Sorry.” You breathed back, one of your hands finding a good spot on his toned stomach, the fabric separating your palm from his warm skin almost too much to bear. Like this, it went on for a while, both of you focusing less and less on the movie on the big flatscreen and more and more on the little touches you gifted to each other. Wanting, unspoken questions, disguised by innocent affections.

A while ago, he had turned a little, one of his clothed legs having found the perfect spot between your thighs, still held back by the fluffy blanket draped over you. But you were slowly having enough of useless fabrics between the two of you and Jace’s lean leg between you wasn’t exactly helping to ease the growing pull in your stomach.

You shuffled even closer and Jace tore his dark eyes away from the screen to look deeply into yours, his plush lips slightly agape as he watched you grind your hips forward, your hand drifting beneath his shirt to ghost over his skin. You felt the muscles in his stomach tense underneath your touch, his breath ghosting over your lips and when he finally dared to capture your mouth with his, you let out a relieved sigh.

Forgotten was the movie that had not interested you from the start as Jace blindly grabbed the bowl of snacks and moved it out the way. His hand drifted over your thigh as he delicately cupped your cheek, making your blood tingle underneath his soft touch, and finally snuck underneath the blanket.

You grinned against his lips, tilting your head to give him more access as a shaky sigh escaped him, his fingers trying to feel where the seam of your shorts began. Instead, his fingertips brushed over silk and lace and his mind short-circuited.

He pulled back, lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he looked at you through them. Both of you were breathing hard, with flushed cheeks and arousal coursing through your veins. He looked at you like you were a miracle, not believing how he managed to end up with such a lovely creature. You pushed your thighs together as he slowly licked his lip, feeling already that your precious panties were going to be soaked very soon. And to think that he had not even gotten started…

“Jace…” You whispered, almost a whine as his thumb brushed over the lacy material, his pupils blown wide as he leaned forward and kissed your neck. You threw your head back, whimpering as his teeth dragged over a sensitive spot. “Please.”

He peeled away the blanket, letting it fall to the floor and looked down, your shirt messily pushed upward to reveal your tummy and the soft pink panties. You swore you could see the dragon in him, his family symbol just lingering underneath the surface. His knee was still resting between your thighs, not yet giving you what you craved so much. Your mouth watered as his darkened gaze landed on you again, his thumb brushing over your wet bottom lip. He whispered, his hoarse voice sending goosebumps through you; “You’re the most beautiful girl…god, you’re driving me insane with how much I want you.”

You exhaled shakily. “You got me.” You nodded, trusting him with your whole being. You both had known how this night would’ve ended and yet, you could never prepare yourself for the intensity of your feelings for Jace. Your hand freed his hair from the scrunchie tied to it and you brushed through his soft curls.

“I love you.” Jace murmured and attached his lips to your neck once more, finally having some mercy on you as he pushed his knee forward and making you cry out. The rough fabric of his joggers pressed against your thin, wet panties, the delicious pressure making you weak in the knees. You threw your head back, your arms naturally resting around his neck as you pushed your chests together, sinking into the pillows behind you in bliss.

Jacaerys paced the rhythm, slowly grinding against you with his thigh, feeling your legs quiver as little lightning shot through your core with each of his motions. Cuddling with him for so long had heightened all your senses, making it hard to concentrate as you pushed your hips forward, riding his thigh as he peppered kisses against your skin, drawing aside the shirt from your shoulder so he could leave a loving mark there, too.

With a particular enthusiastic buck forward, you made him hiss, your little whines and whimpers having made him rock-hard and straining against his own pants. You placed two fingers underneath his chin, drawing him up into a desperate and messy kiss and his hands on your waist tightened their hold.

“C’mere, baby.” He murmured into your mouth, his thigh still rubbing against your most sensitive part. “In my lap, up you go.”

You let yourself be hoisted up until your knees were placed on either side of his slim hips and you gasped into his mouth, your core now deliciously pressed against his length. He placed his shaking hand into your hair and your hands found purchase on his chest, helping him to take it off and throw it somewhere else.

You giggled, head spinning with pleasure as you were juggled around in his lap by him wriggling out of these damn joggers off, your laugh suddenly cut off when he bucked his hips up into yours, the outline of his dick fitting perfectly against you.

“Can I take this off?” Jace asked you breathless, playing with the hem of your shirt and you pecked his lips encouragingly.

“Yes, please.” You could feel his heart beating fast underneath your palm. “I might go insane if you don’t.” You bit your lip and Jace groaned, quickly nodding as he lifted your shirt over your heart and tugging you close against him so you wouldn’t be cold at first.

“Anything you want.” He mumbled, eyes glazed over with love as he looked at you, his fingers ghosting along the underside of your chest, his thumb soothingly touching one of your nipples. “God, you’re incredible. I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” You smiled and then, you did not talk anymore, driven by the growing need for each other now. You started to grind your hips forward again, hissing at how amazing the friction felt for now, the little gasp Jacaerys let out only encouraging you to continue like this.

His hands seemed to be everywhere at once as if he couldn’t decide if he wanted to brush your hair back, caress your chest or guide your hips with them. You felt the mixture of the wine from earlier and the warmth in your core get to your head, the room around you spinning as you found another fantastic angle which made his clothed dick rub over your wet clit just right.

You let out a long-drawn moan, doubling your effort and leaning close to Jace so he could hear every little sound he lured from deep within your body. And in return, he made sure you heard him, his gasps soon turning into the sweet whines you loved so much. There was a wet patch on his briefs as you looked down and you had been a mess anyway and none of it mattered the slightest if he only continued to move you around in his lap like he did now.

“’m close…” You told him, brows scrunched together and eyes closed in pleasure as you rubbed yourself against him. Jace was watching your every movement, fascinated how someone as delicate and sweet as you could really belong to him, peppering kisses on your exposed chest and tugging you forward hard, back and forth on his dick, again and again, a thousand nerves in both your bodies alight.

“So perfect for me, so sweet…” He mumbled and your core clenched around nothing at his sugary affirmations. He kissed your cheek, your neck, over and over again, feeling as your grasp on control continued to slip. “Wanna see you come, my love, fuck- I love you so much…”

“Love you.” You whimpered, mouth a little o-shape, sweat on your forehead and Jace could not help himself, he needed to feel you.

His hand disappeared in your panties, one of his fingers finding your achingly hot clit as the other gathered up your wetness. You keened loudly, doubling over in sweet and utter defeat, immediately caught by his arms and held against his chest. You could’ve sobbed with pleasure as he rubbed one, two, three circles on your clit and then you exploded into a million stars, shattering into stardust right in his safe embrace.

Your orgasm tore through you like a crashing wave and Jace held you through it, throwing his head back against the couch’s backrest, groaning deeply from his chest as he felt himself spill into his underwear, the friction and your sweet sounds too much for his system. You still rode him and his soaked fingers, chasing the high he had gifted you, his fingers continuing to guide you through it all, only slowing their efforts when he felt you twitch with little aftershocks and overstimulation.

Your body slumped against his, breathing heavy and hot as you let out a satisfied smile.

He kissed your temple, hugging you close and closing his eyes as your heart beats slowly calmed down again until they were almost beating as one. You let yourself be held by him, tiredly drawing little hearts on his chest and smiling happily as he kissed your cheek.

“Feeling good?” He asked quietly and brushed back your sweaty hair.

You lifted your head, nodding timidly as you kissed his freckled nose. “Amazing. And you?”

“Perfect.” He smiled blissfully and when you shifted to get more comfortable, both of you grimaced at the sticky feeling. “We made quite a mess, huh?”

Your eyes widened and you hid your face in his neck. “Oh god, do you think anyone will notice?” Suddenly you could not believe you both had let this get so far, in the living room of his family as well-

“Nah, everyone won’t be home for another couple of hours and we can air out the room through the terrace doors.” His eyes sparkled as they looked you over, tucked against him, perfect in every way. “We’ll clean up here and go up to my room to clean you up, okay? Does that sound good?”

“And we’ll cuddle?” You wanted to know, a safe and sacred part of your soul only coming to show itself when Jacaerys was taking care of you like this. To know he knew what you needed and to simply let yourself be led by him made your mind blissfully empty yet full of love and adoration for your boyfriend.

“Yes, love, of course we’ll cuddle.” He pecked your cheek and helped you stand up. (But then again, this whole thing had started out by simply cuddling too, didn’t it?) When you lifted your arms obediently, he slid his shirt back on you and collected his own from the floor, arranging the pillows neatly and folding the blanket like nothing inappropriate had ever happened here.

You laughed as you tried to walk on wobbly legs, only to be scooped up by Jace before you could even reach the staircase. “I think we ruined your favorite underwear.” You whispered into his ear and he blushed madly.

“You can wear one of my boxer shorts if you want.” He offered and you nodded quickly, always a little thief when it came to his clothing. He carried you upstairs, mindful so your legs wouldn’t bump into anything, and gently set you down on his bed once you reached it, kissing your forehead one more time before he rummaged through his closet and found you something to sleep in.

It was ridiculous how happy you felt, how unbelievably in love you were with Jacaerys Targaryen-Strong. You watched him with soft eyes, nearly melting when he cleaned you up with a warm washcloth first, then helped you dress and slid into his twin size bed with you in his arms.

You kissed his smooth jaw, getting comfortable in the familiar safety surrounding you. His fingers were stroking up and down your spine in an easy rhythm.

“I think I’m going to give your brothers gift cards for the cinema for their birthdays.” You mumbled sleepily against him and he laughed, the sound like bells in your ears.

With it, you drifted off into a wonderful, dreamless sleep and he followed you soon after…

When Rhaenyra came back later that night, finding her sons passed out in their beds, she couldn’t help but peek into her oldest’s room, finding the two of you sleeping peacefully and entwined with each other.

In the morning over breakfast, she kept it to herself that the TV had still been running and you two had left the terrace door open…

𓆩♡𓆪

taglist: @earth4angels @princessvelaryon

If you would like to be tagged for Part 2, let me know with a comment <3

#jace velaryon #jace targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys targaryen #jace velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys targaryen x reader #jace targaryen x reader #hotd imagine #hotd

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brokenmenswhore · 8 months ago

Note

Would you plssss write something about dom Jace but also dom reader?? Even if she’s one of slocents daughters and comes to dragon stone as she believes Rhanerya to be the true queen so she’s being held prisoner atm while they decide her fate. Her and Jace have always had a thing for eachother but he’s so angry about being left in the dark and he takes it out on her (respectfully). Like they have that hot intense sex ??? Maybe they’re arguing before so it’s a bit of enemies to lovers?? I just need some rougher sex with Jace!! He was looking too good this season and the way he was quite sassy and strong willed was so fucking hot

this is so hot?????? girl i don’t get nearly enough jace requests

loyal | jacaerys velaryon

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x fem!reader

warnings: dacryphilia, smut (MDNI 18+), rough sex, reader consents but some moments may appear as noncon/dubcon

────── ☾ ──────

It started when you were children. Your brothers, Aegon and Aemond, often teased Jacaerys and Lucerys for their dark hair. In return, Lucerys tormented Aemond about the eye he had cost him. There was always tension, and always an unspoken competition of which line was the legitimate succession to the Iron Throne.

Your sister, Heleana, stayed out of the fighting. You oftentimes tried to stick by her side, both desperate to avoid the fighting, as did Jacaerys. Despite the hostility between your family members, you and Jacaerys always tried to get along.

As he grew up, he began to come into his own, but was still very much second to his mother. He became more and more handsome as he aged. You were nearly the same age, so you had the privilege of watching him grow, and he had the same for you.

Your mother vied for your brother, Aegon, to succeed your father, Viserys I. Rhaenyra, Jace’s mother and the daughter of Viserys, maintained her claim. When Viserys passed, your mother placed Aegon on the throne, and Rhaenyra took residence in Dragonstone with her children.

Your mother preached the importance of the family sticking together in support of Aegon, but in truth, you knew she was delusional. Viserys never faltered on his decision to have Rhaenyra succeed him, and Aegon was unfit to rule. Your mother had a subconscious belief that if she assisted in upholding the patriarchy, it would in turn reward her. You knew that so long as she was a woman, it wouldn’t.

Rhaenyra, however, was Viserys’s first born and the rightful heir to the throne. She was level-headed and peaceful, like her father, and you knew in your heart that she was the true queen.

So you left King’s Landing.

There was nothing for you there. You seldom got along with your family, and even Heleana was preoccupied with Aegon and their children. The only member of your family you truly cared for was Jacaerys. You wanted to be on the right side of history, and that meant standing behind Rhaenyra in this baseless war.

Jacaerys, however, remained perpetually angry with you. He expected you to make your allegiance to Rhaenyra known the moment Aegon was put on the throne. He assumed you stood with Aegon when you didn’t, and thought you were therefore against him and his mother, and he was hurt and angered by that belief.

In the earliest hours of the morning, you mounted your dragon, departing your childhood home before your mother could awaken and attempt to stop you.

You arrived in Dragonstone shortly after, and were met with members of the King’s Guard, led by Daemon, as you arrived.

“Bold move, arriving on dragonback unannounced,” Daemon spoke as you jumped off the saddle, “I could have killed you and your dragon before anyone else caught sight of you.”

“Ah, but you didn’t, Uncle,” you responded, pushing your wind-swept hair out of your face.

“What are you doing here?” he cut to the point.

“I am not here as a threat,” you started, “I am here in support of your wife and her cause.”

“And I am to simply believe you?”

“I would expect nothing but suspicion from the likes of you,” you said, an amused smile on your face, “but I do not lie, Uncle. I want no part of the claims my mother or my brother make. Why else would I have come here so suddenly?”

Daemon sighed and inspected your face for a moment, deciding whether or not he trusted you. He always suspected the worst, and thought it better to be safe than sorry. He tilted his head toward the men of the guard, shouting, “keep her in the dungeons for now. Your Queen can decide her fate.”

“Daemon-“ you began to protest, but you were being dragged away within moments. You called back, “you cannot honestly hold me prisoner as punishment for my lineage?”

Daemon called back, “yes I can, niece. I do not trust you yet.”

────── ☾ ──────

The Black Council gathered at the usual time, everyone taking their typical seats, Jacaerys remaining standing opposite his mother across the table.

They began to discuss matters of politics and war, when Daemon chimed in, “We also must discuss the matter of my niece.”

Jacaerys furrowed his brows in confusion.

“She did come here of her own volition, to her credit,” Rhaenyra said, “but you are right, we cannot be sure we can trust her.”

This discussion had clearly started previously, and without Jacaerys present.

Daemon adjusted in his chair, getting comfortable. “I had the guards take her to the dungeons for the time being, but Y/N can be very stubborn, and will not accept staying in there long. We must act quickly if this is disingenuous. It may be an infiltration from the Greens.”

“Yes, well, now that she is already here, we-“

“What do you mean Y/N is here?” Jacaerys nearly spit out, pressing his palms to the table in front of him, leaning toward Daemon, who was nonchalantly sat in his usual council seat.

“She arrived yesterday morn,” Daemon spoke casually, not confused by Jacaerys’s frustration, but simply not caring about it, “your mother was out.”

Rhaenyra began to respond, “I must speak to her before taking any action, to determine if her loyalties truly lie with-“

“She has been here for nearly two whole days and I was not informed?” Jacaerys cut her off.

Daemon lifted his head, “why would you need to be informed, Jacaerys?”

Jacaerys let out a huff of frustration. “I am as much a part of this council as you.” He was also frustrated because it was you, and he wished he knew the moment you arrived, but he could not let Daemon know that.

“I am the King Consort, you forget yourself. I have no obligations to brief you on matters that I do not see fit.”

Jacaerys slammed hit hands on the table. “I am the heir to the Iron Throne, Daemon. I expect to be treated as if all matters that pertain to my mother, pertain to me as well, because they do.”

“Jacaerys-“ Rhaenyra tried to catch his attention, but instead he diverted his frustrations to her.

“And where were you? She has been kept prisoner for nearly two days due to your absence.”

“Mind your tongue,” Daemon warned.

Rhaenyra’s eyes remained focused on Jacaerys. “I had other matters to attend to.”

“And yet again you leave me in the dark, as you both did regarding Y/N.”

“It is never my intent to insult you, Jace,” Rhaenyra said.

Jacaerys pushed himself off of the table, pacing back and forth for a moment. “Let me speak to her.”

“Who, Y/N?” Daemon asked, laughing at the thought.

“Let me handle it,” Jacaerys pleaded, ignoring Daemon as he looked to his mother for approval. His voice and posture were confident, but his eyes were desperate. All he wanted was to be involved.

“Fine,” Rhaenyra waved a hand, “you may handle it, but only because she is most likely to be truthful with you out of all of us.”

Jacaerys stood up straight, taking a deep breath and resetting his confidence. He gave his mother a nod, turning around and retreating toward the dungeons, a guard in tow.

When he arrived in front of your cell, you turned around to face him, almost shocked by the sight of him. He had grown exponentially since you last saw him, and his dark hair was now long and curly, framing his face perfectly.

“Unlock it,” Jacaerys commanded the guard, who unlocked and cracked open the door to your cell.

Jacaerys stepped into the cell, hands over the hilt of his sword as he faced you. “Now leave us.”

The guard coughed, “My Prince, I-“

“I said leave us,” he said again, his voice heavier and more demanding the second time around.

The guard stepped away, nervously dropping the key to the cell door on the ground before he quickly retreated up the steps, leaving you alone with Jacaerys.

Jacaerys was clearly frustrated, and it had been a long time since you’d seen one another. You were unsure of what to say.

“What are you doing here?” Jacaerys said, his nostrils flaring as he focused on standing tall.

“As I told my brother, I am here to support you and your family,” you stated.

“Why am I to believe you?” Jacaerys questioned, “why come now? You did not think it important to decide where your loyalties lie when your mother forced a drunken usurper on the throne?”

You did not expect such hostility from him. You imagined what your meeting would be like, and this was not it. “I admit, I did not have the will to leave until recently.”

“And why is that?” he pressed. Was he mad at you? Was he hurt?

“I did not think myself strong enough, but I am growing rather tired of being weak.”

Jacaerys nodded a few times to himself, stepping closer to you. He went to open his mouth three times to speak, but could find no words to say each time.

You decided to break the silence, asking the question you thought stupid to ask, but you couldn’t help it. “You did not wish to see me until now?”

Jacaerys met your gaze for a moment before responding. “I was not aware you were here until mere minutes ago.”

You shifted your stance as you looked at him in confusion. “But I have been here for nearly two days.”

“My mother enjoys keeping me in the dark,” he explained, “I believe she assumes she is prioritizing my safety. Instead, she is simply underutilizing my talents.”

You sighed. “Do you perhaps trust me enough to let me take leave from this cell?”

“No.”

“But-“

Jace was frustrated by how long it took you to decide to back the Blacks, and was also no longer able to hold back his pent up frustration from his mother always leaving him in the dark and refusing to let him be proactive.

“You took forever, did you know that? This entire time, it’s been the same two sides. You are a big girl now, you’ve been more than capable of choosing a side,” he was nearly shouting now, “and instead you chose to stay with the Dowager Queen and her usurper son!”

“What did you expect of me?” you retorted, voice raised as well, “I left behind my life when I left King’s Landing! All to support what I believe is right! And yet you stand here to what, accuse me of being untruthful? Is that what you think of me, that I am simply here to act as an inconspicuous threat?”

Jacaerys stepped closer to you, his torso nearly hitting yours. He was seething in anger. “If you were truly on my side, you should have come here the second that crown touched Aegon’s head.”

“Who are you truly mad at Jace, hm? Are you truly upset with me, or are you upset your mommy won’t let you play Prince?” you snapped back, fed up with his attitude.

“How fucking dare you speak to me like that,” he spat, “if you truly accepted my mother as your queen, you would know to mind your tongue around the Crown Prince.”

“I will, when the Crown Prince is not being such a prick.”

Jacaerys inhaled a sharp breath, his face turning red from all the pent up anger and frustration he was eager to release. He was speechless, unable to think of a clever enough comeback.

“You’ve found your voice in my absence, haven’t you, Jace?” you asked, your faces mere inches from one another. Your voice was low, almost sultry, and your tone, combined with the close proximity of your bodies, was doing something to Jace.

He felt his cock twitch in his breeches, gazing down at you.

“You wanna prove to me your loyalty, is that it?” Jacaerys asked.

“Whatever it will take for you to believe me,” you responded.

“Bend the knee.”

“Alright” you agreed, “let me out of this cell, and once you take me to your mother I-“

“To me, Y/N. Bend the knee to me.”

You looked deep into his eyes. You could see he was frustrated, both generally and sexually. You two had always liked one another, and not seeing each other for much too long only enhanced the feelings, especially now that you were both grown up.

You never broke eye contact as you slowly sank down onto your knees, both hitting the floor gently as you gazed up at him, your head only a few inches from his most sensitive area.

The sight of you on your knees in front of him was awakening something carnal within him, and the feeling was mixing with his pent up rage, making for a dangerous combination.

“You know what to do,” he spoke.

You continued looking up at him through hooded eyes as you tugged at his breeches, but they wouldn’t move until he removed his sword from around his waist, which he did quickly and swiftly. Without any obstructions, you were able to pull down all the clothing that sat on his waist, freeing his cock.

“And if someone decides to check on the Crown Prince?” you asked, watching Jacaerys shudder as your hand gently wrapped around the base of his length.

Jacaerys braced himself by placing a hand on the wall next to him. “I dare them to try and stop me,” he said, gripping your hair in his hand, making a fist and positioning your head in front of his tip, “open.”

You opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out, and Jacaerys lightly growled as he pushed your face into him, your mouth enveloping his cock as the tip immediately hit the back of your throat, causing your gag reflex to act up for a brief moment.

Your hand remained on the base of his shaft, lightly stroking up and down as he continued to force your head as far as he could down his length, before allowing you to take over. He kept his fingers tangled in your hair, ready to keep you on him if you tried to leave, but he wanted to feel what you could do without his constant guidance.

You set a steady pace with your mouth, running your tongue over and around his tip every once in a while. You looked up at him, and the sight caused his cock to twitch in your mouth as he threw his head back in pleasure.

His lips parted as he involuntarily gasped and whined when you picked up the pace. You continued to look up at him, knowing it added to his arousal when he caught your gaze, his cock bumping your throat as you nearly choked around him.

“Fuck,” he whispered as he began to move your head again, shifting his hips slightly to fuck into your mouth. You tried to maintain your pace, but Jacaerys wasn’t having it. “Stay still,” he demanded.

You put your hands on your thighs, allowing him to take over as he began to fuck your mouth. He was snapping his hips the hardest he could in a standing position.

You began to let out small chokes and moans as he hit the back of your throat at a steady, yet fast rate. You tried to focus on breathing through your nose as you constricted your throat and held your jaw open for Jacaerys to use for his pleasure.

“You look so good on your knees for me,” he spoke through gritted teeth, pushing and pulling your head via your hair a final few times until you felt an unfamiliar, salty liquid hit the back of your throat.

You instinctively swallowed his seed. He held your jaw open as he pulled out of you, checking to ensure you swallowed everything, but you didn’t understand what he was doing.

He ruthlessly shoved two fingers into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue and forcing your mouth even more open. When he couldn’t see or feel any more of his seed in your mouth, he sighed, “good girl.”

“Proven myself enough?” you quipped, giggling slight after your statement to demonstrate that you meant it as lighthearted.

“Your mouth may be loyal to me,” Jacaerys said, “but that’s not the only part of you. Get up.”

You pushed yourself up until you were at his level again, and he immediately grabbed your shoulders, swinging you around and backing you up until the back of your legs hit the cell bench. You fell into a sit, and Jacaerys stood intimidatingly over you.

“Pull your dress up,” he instructed.

You began to bunch up the fabric of the dress Daemon had provided you, pulling it upward until it was at your waistline, and lifting your hips so you were no longer sitting on fabric. You jolted slightly when the flesh of your ass hit the cold bench, and Jacaerys watched in amusement.

Jacaerys tilted his head to the side as he ran a finger along the seam of your small clothes, hooking a finger under the band, pulling, and then snapping the band back onto your waist. “Off.”

You pulled them down your legs, dropping them to the floor below you. Jacaerys stared at your core for a moment before dropping to his knees in front of you, lifting both of your legs and adjusting them onto his shoulders.

Your breathing quickened, your chest rising and falling rapidly and he looked up at you, leaning closer and closer toward you. He stuck his tongue out, running it slowly between your folds, watching you sigh in pleasure at the feeling.

“Have you ever been tasted?” he asked, brimming with a confidence you’d never seen.

“No,” you admitted.

“Good girl,” he praised, “you really are loyal to me.”

He pressed his face to your core, his tongue swirling and circling around your clit as he sucked you, his hands holding onto your thighs for assistance with anchoring them to his shoulders.

Every so often he licked a strip from your hole to your clit, collecting all your wetness in an eager attempt to taste you.

You couldn’t help but watch him. It was so erotic, seeing the boy you’ve wanted like this for so long in between your legs, and looking the most handsome you’d ever seen him.

Your hand found the back of his head, holding him against you as his tongue teased your hole, slowly pushing in and curling upward against your spongy walls as you whimpered.

You completely involuntarily started to twirl strands of his hair around your pointer finger, playing with the unfamiliar length almost on instinct.

Jacaerys pulled away from you. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“S-sorry,” you stuttered, “couldn’t help it. I like it like this.”

“Yeah?” he responded.

“Mhm,” you vocalized, tugging lightly at the strands on the back of his head as he dove back into your cunt, his tongue inside of you at the same time he sucked your clit, the brand new feeling nearly overwhelming.

“Fuck, Jacaerys,” you moaned.

“Tell me you belong to me,” he commanded, watching your face as he continued to pleasure you with his mouth.

“I- I’m yours, Jace,” you breathed out, shaky, “a-always been y-yours.”

Your words made his cock begin to harden again, despite having already came.

Jacaerys moaned into your cunt, causing your walls to squeeze as your high approached.

“If you’re mine, then come for me.”

His words drove you over the edge, your orgasm hitting you hard as your back arched and your thighs tried to clamp around his head, but he held them open as he tasted every last drop from you.

Jace ran a thumb over his bottom lip to collect any extra wetness, sucking the digit clean as he stood over you again.

“Could have had you even earlier,” he said, holding his palm out in front of your face, “if they told me you were here. Spit.”

“Into your hand?” you asked, confused by the action.

“I need something to help lubricate,” he explained, “unless you think you’re wet enough.”

His tone was intentionally taunting you, and it drove you crazy. You liked him being domineering over you.

Embarrassed, you forced the words out, “I don’t think that’s a problem.”

“No?” he responded, ruthlessly shoving a finger into your hole, causing you to gasp as he almost immediately pulled it out and sucked it dry, “guess you’re right.”

He lined his cock up with your entrance, holding one leg flush against his waist. “Can’t believe I could have had you yesterday.”

He pushed his entire length into you with one violent thrust, a strangled moan leaving your throat at the sudden intrusion. The force nearly had you crying, your hole not quite ready for his size, even with your immense wetness.

“Poor baby, is that too much? You gonna cry?” he taunted, pulling almost all the way out before pushing into you hard again, causing your body to jolt upward.

A tear ran down your cheek, and Jacaerys leaned down and licked it off of your face.

Seeing you cry reminded him of the frustration he entered the room with, and he would be damned if he didn’t use the outlet right in front of him to release some of it.

He gripped your waist roughly, beginning to piston in and out of you, forcing you to adjust to his size as you went, if that was even possible.

A hand found its way around your throat, squeezing enough to only slightly obstruct your air flow as he fucked you hard. He thought about how mad at you he was, how mad at his family he was, how mad at this war he was, how good you looked underneath him- he was starting to lose control.

You whined his name as your walls began to squeeze him again, overstimulated from having just came only a few minutes ago. Jacaerys slowed down his pace exponentially, determined to make your next climax drag out.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he praised.

You simply moaned in response, his hips rutting into you at a violent pace, his pubic bone hitting your clit with every single thrust.

His hand left your throat and instead snaked around your waist, holding you at a higher angle that felt even better than before.

“Jace, fuck,” you moaned.

You heard armored footsteps clang down the staircase, and within moments, a member of the guard came into view. Jacaerys turned to him, with no urgency, and no shame. He continued to fuck you as he spoke, “not now.”

The man was caught off guard by the sight, and you tried to turn away from him and hide, but Jacaerys grabbed your jaw and forced you to keep your head straight.

When the man only took a step back and didn’t fully leave, Jacaerys repeated himself. “Not. Fucking. Now.”

The man snapped out of his thoughts the second time, bowing toward Jace and retreating back up the staircase.

Jacaerys picked up the pace once the man was out of view, fucking you as fast as he possibly could.

“Always have to fucking repeat myself,” he said, his anger growing as he dipped his head near the crook of your neck.

He spoke with each thrust, “They Never. Fucking. Listen.”

Tears were freely falling down your face now, the intensity almost too much for you. Jacaerys lifted his head to look at you, saw you crying, and lost it.

He pulled out of you, swiftly pulling you off the bench, spinning you around, and roughly pushing you back down so that your elbows rested on the bench, your ass up and level with his hips.

He inserted himself back into you and reset his pace, snapping his hips against you as hard as he could, watching the flesh of your ass shake with each hit.

He grabbed a fistful of your hair, harshly pulling until your back arched. He watched your face contort in pleasure, now that there was no hiding. Jacaerys had you completely at his mercy.

“So fucking pretty, crying with my cock in you.”

His words caused your walls to squeeze his cock, only a few sharp thrusts away from coming.

Your second high hit you even harder than the first, your legs shaking uncontrollably as your juices lubricated Jace even more.

You would have fallen, your legs giving out, if Jacaerys didn’t have such an intense grip in your hips. Feeling the weakness in your legs. he wrapped an arm around your waist and one around your chest, pulling you upward so that your back was flush against his chest.

He broke his dominance to ask you, “fuck, Y/N, where can I come?”

You sniffled and whined, “I’m yours, Jace, you can come inside of me. Please.”

“You want me to fill you up?” he tsked, holding you tightly against him as he thrust upward, “then beg for it.”

“I- I can’t-“

“I don’t like having to repeat myself,” he spat, his thrusts now long but hard, your whole body convulsing and giving out in his arms.

“Please, Jace, please come in me, I’m yours, I want you in me, please-“

The begging was enough to send him over the edge, and he bit down on your shoulder to quiet his groans as he came inside of you, spilling his seed deep within your walls, further marking you as his.

He held you against his body for several minutes, relishing in the feeling of you so close to him, before slowly helping you sit down on the bench.

He sat next to you, catching his breath along with you. When he was sufficiently recovered, he put his clothes back on, stood up, and held a hand out toward you.

You furrowed your brows in confusion.

“You want out of this cell or not?”

#jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon smut #jacaerys x reader #jace velaryon #jace targaryen #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon x y/n #asks #house of the dragon

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itsluckylolita · 2 months ago

Text

Saviour of Dragon’s | CHAPTER TWELVE

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

𐙚⭑𓂃──────────────────𓂃⭑𐙚

This had to be some cruel joke, a jape by the gods letting you know that try as you might, normalcy was not something you would achieve in this lifetime.

“I-I don’t know what came over me, I suppose I heard the egg hatching from the hall…” You trailed off when a small purr came from below you, the pearlescent dragon which got you into this mess curling softly into the crook of your neck. When Rhaenyra had seen you she ordered for you to be taken to her bedchambers, Daemon already awake and pacing before you walked in.

“Seven hells, Y/n, put the damn thing down!” Daemon shouted, and out of reflex you obeyed, setting the creature on the floor. The dragonling was not inclined to accept, hooking its small claws onto your nightgown and half flying, half scaling your body to be back in your arms.

“I-I can’t — ” You stumbled over your words, petting over the rough scales of the dragon. It stunk up the chambers, the smell of fire and brimstone making you dizzy. When Rhaenyra reentered she was with a dragonkeeper, her hair slightly askew and hand protectively over her bump. That’s what led you to now, explaining to your father and good-mother how you got into this predicament in the first place.

“Then it is a good thing you did, Y/n. Aegon and Viserys could have been injured, you have done well.” Rhaenyra calmed you down, still wary of getting too close to you with the hatchling in your arms.

“I do not know why it will not leave my hold.” You whimpered, watching the dragonkeeper approach, thick materials gloving his hands and arms. You pried the small creature's wings off of you, attempting to hand it to the dragonkeeper. It whined, before its hackles raised and golden flames shot out at the dragonkeeper. The keeper hissed, withdrawing his hands although they were covered.

“Henujagon ziry.” Leave it. Daemon commanded, the dragonkeeper retreating to the edge of the room.

“There is something…wrong with me.” You breathed, looking between Daemon and Rhaenyra.

“There is nothing wrong with you, sweet girl. You have fire in your veins, perhaps stronger than any of us, these beasts know it well.” Rhaenyra said, cautiously approaching. Daemon grabbed her arm softly, shaking his head, but Rhaenyra took herself out of his grasp.

“This world has not seen one like you since the days of Old Valyria. We must protect your bond with them, for just as Jacaerys is the future of the House Targaryen you, Y/n, are the future of our dragon’s.” Rhaenyra finally reached you, her hand gentle on your damp cheeks.

“Let us return you to your chambers, the hatchling may sleep with you tonight, hm?” She nodded, and you slowly nodded with her, both of you walking in silence back to your room. You sweat in your sleep that night, you know you did because your bedding was damp when you awoke and the incessant heat of the pearl dragonling still clung to your skin like a sheet. It was curled into your side, purring peacefully while you expertly removed yourself from your bed without disturbing it. You got yourself ready alone that day, tying your hair up and soaking for a long while before putting on a simple day dress of purple silk. You secured a satchel across your body, putting a few Old Valyrian tomes in it. You had taken the tomes months ago from the dusty library on Dragonstone but you hadn’t had the time to read them properly, and you supposed being attached at the hip to a hatchling was the perfect moment. You scooped the dragon into your arms cautiously, leaving your room with the calmed dragon perched on your shoulder. The servants you passed avoided eye contact all the way up until you were outside, in the grassy fields just below the Dragonmont whistling for your three dragons to make themselves known. Their familiar chirps broke the silence, all three floating down with chuffs of joy at your presence.

“Hello my beauties.” You hummed, eager to meet them. Morghul reared back when she saw the dragonling on your shoulder, curious eyes narrowed.

“Rāpirī, Morghul. Issa iā raqiros.” Be calm, Morghul. She is a friend. You swayed, brushing a hand over her snout. You had confirmed the hatchling was a she-dragon after consulting your Valyrian texts, realizing that she possessed the female anatomy. You had also found a fitting name for her in that time, one which you were sure her future rider would not mind.

“Zirȳla brōzi iksis Nūmio, issa naejot sagon aōha mandia.” Her name is Pearl, she is to be your sister. You took Nūmio off of your shoulder and threw her up in the air, catching all three of your dragons' attention. She yelped, circling above you for a few moments before Rhaelys joined her, nimble wings taking her to the clear skies. You watched them dance together, amethyst scales and opalescent wings swimming the clouds in tandem. Soon Morghul and Veraxes followed, leaving you to rest in the grass below as they chased each other's tails through rays of sun. You took out the tomes, flipping through faded pages until one caught your eye.

“The harnessing of blood…” You breathed, fingers grazing over the ancient words which practically read themselves to you. As you continued to turn page after page you came to a horrifically wonderful realization. Here, within these forgotten books, were perfectly preserved capsules of Old Valyrian magic. Blood magic, fire magic — everything. You looked through the second tome, and when you skimmed to the end of the book you saw something curious, a signature hidden within the last page’s corner.

‘Learn well, sister of dragon’s. You are the second saviour — Daenys Targaryen.’

You read it perhaps a dozen more times. How…?

This was not possible, if you remembered correctly Daenys Targaryen died generations before Aegon the Conqueror, she was — oh. Oh. Daenys the Dreamer, predictor of the Doom, the saviour of House Targaryen. You looked into the sky, searching the pale heavens for any sign from the Gods that you were losing your senses before your eyes returned to the page and the message was still there. Had Daenys predicted you were to be here all those years ago? Then you remembered your dream, the one you had during your early months at Dragonstone, but the woman in your dream couldn't have been Daenys. You cursed, wishing that this world had photographs instead of unreliable paintings.

“Y/n!” You turned at your name, seeing Rhaena descending from the direction of Dragonstone. You closed the books, putting them back in your satchel and getting up to greet your half-sister.

“Is it true?” She breathed, her smile bright and eyes alight with curiosity.

“Is what true?” You played coy.

“Seven hells Y/n, you know what!” She shoved you, though there was no real strength behind it. You gestured to the sky, Rhaena’s eyes lifting to watch as Nūmio pierced through a veil of clouds being chased by Veraxes before they disappeared again.

“Is it bonded with you?” She asked.

“I don’t know, I don’t believe so. I’d like to think she knows her true rider is still in the womb.” You chuckled and Rhaena grabbed your hands, squeezing them within her own.

“This is a good omen, sister. First you bond with three dragons and now you have hatched one!” She squealed, and you were amazed at how she could be so pleased by your good fortune when she had none of her own.

“I suppose it is, though might I say it was an accident.” You insisted.

“Whatever caused it you have a way with them, we can all see it. Come, Jace and Luke are waiting for us.” She began to walk and you picked up your skirts to join her.

“Why?” You inquired, walking slightly faster so that Nūmio might not notice your absence.

“For lunch, ‘tis nearly past noon!” She laughed, silver locs blowing elegantly behind her.

“I had not realized I had been gone for so long.” You mumbled, only now aware of the hunger which gnawed at the back of your mind.

“Of course you hadn’t, you had them to keep you company. Anyone would forget about lunch.” Rhaena said. You looked down at your satchel, the weight of the tomes heavy on your hip and in your mind as you entered Rhaena’s chambers for lunch.

“Oh look, the Dragoness finally blesses us with her presence.” Jacaerys teased, leaning back in his chair. You rolled your eyes, taking a seat and picking up a slice of cheese from the spread on the table.

“You vecome, mm-Prish.” You bowed, words muffled through cheese.

“It is true.” Rhaena announced, and Lucerys laughed in disbelief.

“I cannot believe you, Y/n.” Lucerys shook his head.

“Neither can I most days, I am an amazement for all including myself.” You japed, sitting down.

“Four dragons to your name and still you refuse to allow the realm to know.” Jacaerys scoffed, leaning towards you from across the table. You took the tea Rhaena had poured for you, taking a sip before you responded.

“They will find out one day, ‘tis better to have the element of surprise. Besides, don’t you want to be there to see the look on the court's faces when they realize that the dragons follow me?” You suggested, imagining the way the reigning Queen might pale and her sons may faint.

“You have a good point. I would delight in our Uncle Aemond’s envy.” Lucerys snickered before his arm was slapped gently by Rhaena.

“He is already envious enough that he lost an eye for it. Do not imagine to provoke the poor man.” Rhaena sighed but Jacaerys laughed.

“Provoke? He is provoked every time he wakes from sleep.” He chuckled and you couldn't help but allow a rush of air from your nose. It was times like this you wished Baela was still here, she would bask in the thought of your cousin losing his temper because of anything. After lunch you sequestered yourself in your chambers, reading the tomes from front to back and collecting a few things in front of your fireplace while doing so.

“Okay, let's see if Old Valyria was onto something.” You mumbled, setting out one of the tomes open beside you. You kneeled in front of the lit fireplace with what you could only describe as ingredients at your knees. A handful of your three dragons scales, the multi-colour collection shimmering in the light of the fire, a cauldron, a small sharp piece of Valyrian steel, a goblet, and your tome full of Valyrian incantations. The cauldron was boiling water, and when it bubbled to your liking you placed the scales in it, saying a few words in High Valyrian as you did so. You grabbed the piece of steel, taking a few deep breaths before you cut a rune into your palm, hissing as you squeezed your own blood into the pot and watched it swirl into the murky waters, turning the liquid into a deep crimson the longer you held your hand above it. You repeated the Valyrian phrases, opening your palm slowly before you let out a gasp. The rune on your hand was glowing red, not reflecting your blood in the light of the fire but glowing. You took the cauldron off the heat, pouring the liquid into the goblet you had prepared. You watched as the previously loose liquid came out thick, the syrupy mixture filling the goblet to the brim. You had no idea how it became like that, you were sure there was more water than blood when you began but you decided not to question it, you just saw your hand glow after all.

“Ñelly hen zaldrīzes. Ānogar hen morghūlilare. Ñelly hen morghūlilare. Ānogar hen zaldrīzes. Letagon zirȳ se mazverdagon zirȳ mēre, maghagon perzys se kustikāne naejot ñuha prūmia. Tepagon bisa naejot nyke, ñuha āeksio Arrax. Isse aōha brōzi, nyke dīnagon ñuha vējes isse aōha ondos.” Flesh of the Dragon. Blood of the Mortal. Flesh of the Mortal. Blood of the Dragon. Bind them and make them one, bring fire and strength to my heart. Give this to me, my lord Arrax. In your name, I place my fate in your hands. You declared before drinking from the goblet, the viscous drink tasting of iron and fire as it surprisingly did not burn your throat. You hummed as the warmth hit your belly, seeming to spread throughout your entire body from toes to fingers, lungs wrenching in a deep breath. A hot breath.

“Dracarys.” You breathed, holding out your hands to the fire. You felt a tingling in your lungs which shot through your arms and to your fingers and then out of your fingers. Molten flames burst from your palms, adding to the fire with a vigour you’ve only seen from Morghul’s open maw. You would have screamed if a knight wasn't posted outside of your chambers. You had done it. You had practiced Ancient Valyrian magic and succeeded.

It was true, you decided when the flames receded, you would not achieve normalcy in this life. You were destined for greater things.

Far greater.

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She’s baaaacckkk!! So sorry for the wait but I hope it was at least a little bit worth it! Let me know what you guys think xoxo

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cowpokemythology · 1 month ago

Text

immortal he, return to me.

playlist pairing: ghost!jacaerys velaryon x fem!reader word count: 8.8k description: the sea swallowed your heart the day it took your husband to a watery grave, two lives cruelly ripped away by the stranger's greedy hands. but, you should've known, he was too stubborn to stay away for long. tags: angst, smut (18+), lots of grief, mentions of canon-typical violence, gore?, spoilers for fire & blood/s3, lots of talk of death and the supernatural, inconsistent and unclear ghost lore because it's just vibes. a/n: this is my first fic, please bear with me. ALSO first time writing smut, sorry if it's cringe as hell. also, sorry it took me ten million years, life kept me busy. from here on out, i will not tease with false promises of release dates lmao. the quote in the beginning is from paradise lost by milton.

“our state cannot be severed, we are one, one flesh; to lose thee were to lose myself."

The beaches of Dragonstone crawled with winter’s mist and your Jacaerys was dead.

He had promised you a safe return.

You’d stopped him before he’d left that morning. Pleading, a hand clasping one of his own. The way his calluses, worn from swordplay and dragon riding than any real work, brushed against your skin is still imprinted into your memory. You do not know why your mind clung to this empty detail. Perhaps, you knew even then, that this would be the last time you’d see your husband.

Your touch had been gentle, easy for him to break through if he wished to brush past. He’d stopped for you, though. When his honeyed eyes had met yours, they were softened.

“My love…” He’d murmured, a low lilt. The way he moves back into your orbit almost makes you believe that there’s an invisible tether, endlessly tugging you back into each other.

He raises your hand to his plush lips, brushing them across the ridges of your knuckles. His other slides around your waist, melding to the small of your back and drawing you close. The familiar smell of cedar and dragon smoke envelops you, something so uniquely Jacaerys that he never could wash away. The warm lines of your bodies pressed against each other. Your chemise is a flimsy barrier between the heat of him, the blood of the dragon. You’d always privately thought that if anyone could simply feel how warm he was, that any barb of bastardry would be swallowed. You could still feel it through his thick doublet.

Your heart hurts with his affection, worry carved into every crevice of your face. If you could, you would tug him back into bed. If he was entwined with you, beneath the safety of your furs, he would face no danger. You would keep your sweet boy with constellations of freckles and raw umber eyes and he, in turn, would keep you.

You were too old, now, to hide like children.

He sees this, of course he does. He speaks before you can put voice to the multitudes of protests on the tip of your tongue.

“I must go.” He tells you, the words whispered against the back of your hand. You see the resignation in his expression, the trepidation. But a fire burns there too. One that has been raging since he’d returned from the North to a keep bereft of Lucerys’ laughter.

He’s been hungry for this, to fight, to avenge his brother, to win back what his mother had had stolen, to prove himself to those who sneer at his parentage. He’s been reeling against the council for months to put him to use. That much, you can understand. You cannot rebuke his going, however you can’t help but lament over the peril of it all.

“I know…” You reply in a resigned breath, your eyes memorizing everything about his form.

He hums in response. His hand releases yours in favor of cupping your cheek, you can feel his warmth branding your skin. You lean into the touch as if you’re freezing. He gently drops his head to slant his mouth over yours, not yet a kiss.

“I will return to you, you must know that. I do not think even the Stranger himself could keep me from you.” Jacaerys whispers against your lips. It was a promise of the cosmic kind, but uttered with the naivety and assuredness of youth. You were both hardly twenty, you had lives stretched out for leagues in front of you. It did not seem plausible, then, for such strong lights to be extinguished.

“Do not tempt him.” You murmur in response, a furrow in your brow. You’ve never been pious, but this day was as good as any to be superstitious.

The puff of breath that leaves him is amused and then he’s kissing you.

His mouth is pillowed against yours. You respond to it eagerly, eyes fluttering shut as you melt into him. Soft hands curl into his padded doublet, pressing yourself so close it seems you’re trying to meld your body to his. And maybe you were. If you could, you’d thought you’d make a home for yourself in his ribs and stay there for all eternity. His hands flex slightly around your waist, a pleased noise leaving his throat.

You try to pour your prayers to him through your lips, to imbue him with safety. He kisses you as he always does; sweet, gentle, and all-consuming. There is a withheld passion in him that sets you aflame. He makes your body buzz and your blood sing.

The kiss does not last nearly long enough. Dark ochre eyes flutter open to meet yours, his lashes like those of a doe’s. Jacaerys has always been heart-achingly beautiful. Every bit of him, perfectly sculpted by the loving hands of unforgiving gods. You wondered if they’d regretted it, if they’d melded his cupid’s bow and carved out sharp shoulder blades and decided that this beauty was to be ephemeral.

“Come home to me.” You breathe out, beseeching him with your gaze.

Jace’s gentle smile in return is woefully disarming. His thumbs brush over your hips, as if he too, were memorizing the feel of you. The way the pads of his fingers catch on your nightdress make you shiver. He presses a final, gentle, kiss to your forehead.

“I love you.” The words are pressed into your skin.

His warm hands retract from you regretfully, like waves receding from a stalwart shore. His eyes take you in for a moment more before, in a turn of red velvet, he’s gone. The thud of the mahogany door shutting behind him is a resounding omen of sealed fate.

When the dragonseeds do return, their heads are hung low in face of their costly victory. Your husband was not among them, nor was his steed. It seems the dragons sensed the loss as keenly as their riders. The scaly beasts seemed deflated, mournful. Far less proud than how they’d left, with a true dragon prince at their helm. Their chuffs are low, quiet. Everything was stilted, heavy. The stench of sulfur and the sharp tang of iron that hung in that room has not left you since.

It is Addam of Hull who tells you. He kindly takes your arm, guiding you a short distance away. With your heads bent towards each other; he tells you of your husband’s bravery, his strength, and his fate. Of bolts embedded in tender flesh, numb fingers grasping to ship wood, and the blood of the dragon returning to the salt of the sea.

Many eyes, draconic and human alike, averted their gazes as a raw cry tore itself from your throat. Your hands clawed at your chest for a heart that no longer existed. It lay at the bottom of the sea, with so many other sunken wrecks and bones.

The light has gone out of your life. The world around you is grayed and dull, the fog and winter clouds invade in his absence.

You have not known life without Jacaerys, and that remains true even now. You’d been at each other’s sides since the glow of youthful infancy, to the awkward, jutting limbs of adolescence, to the shining pride of (what you could barely call) adulthood. The yarn of your fates, your souls, were intertwined. Together, you formed a tapestry that was supposed to tell the tale of a prosperous king and queen. You knew him better than you knew yourself. You knew his skin was as soft as downy petals, the smell of the oils you’d run through his curls each night, the way his warmth bled into you, and how his smile felt pressed into your collarbone.

You knew his kindness in the way he’d pressed daisies into your palms as children, you knew his strength in the way he wielded steel easier than breathing, you knew his frustrations in the tick of a jaw over a comment of dark tresses, and you knew his tears; hidden away in privacy. You knew the way they’d shimmer in his eyes until he could not withhold them any longer, the defeat in a downturned head as the first droplet slid down his cheek. You’d hoped he’d always know the feel of your lips as you kissed them away and kept them close to your heart.

You would never kiss him again. Nor would you ever know him, feel him.

Without him, you’ve withered, more phantom than woman.

You did not leave your bed for two weeks. It is a sea you drown in. It’s much too vast without another body to keep it warm. You shiver despite the furs piled upon you and you hardly ever find sleep. When you do rest, it is fitful, light, or forced by exhaustion. If you’d had the capacity to think of it, you would’ve been surprised that you did not drown in your tears.

You keep your curtains closed. Gone are the days when you invited a welcome sea breeze to billow through your rooms, there was no longer a Velaryon prince to share in it. You refused to lay eyes upon the endless azure blanket that had stolen your breath from your lungs.

It was much like a tomb, your rooms. It was shrouded in constant darkness. You did not even permit a lit candle or hearth. You would not feel any more warmth, even should your chambers set alight with you inside. All comfort seemed to be extinguished with the soul of Jacaerys.

There was a constant pain in your chest, an ache where your heart used to reside. It was bleeding, seeping out of your every pore. It was so empty yet the weight that pressed upon you was greater still. It was difficult to breathe without him. This weight kept you lying, motionless, in a bed that was now only yours.

It took all the energy you had to force some of the food your handmaiden brought you down your throat. It all crumbled like ash in your mouth.

At first, the sobs that had racked your body had hurt your ribs. No comforting hand of a maester or handmaiden could rouse you from these fits of grief. It felt pathetic but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Who could blame you? You’ve lost part of yourself. You’d never hurt so much.

It came in fits. Lots of your time was spent in a haunted daze. Unseeing eyes gazing at a wall or ceiling, hands tangled in furs drawn up to your chin. It was as if your mind refused to live in a world without Jacaerys in it, therefore it would not take part in it. The passage of time meant little. You would wake and soon it was nightfall again, another day spent bleeding out in bed as you stared at uncaring stone.

You can see the concern shining in the eyes of your maids. You can hear them murmuring to each other as they prepare your chambers, when they think you sleep. About your ashen skin, your frailing body, of the heartache that has drained every bit of life from you.

At some point, and you really can’t remember when, you’d drug one of his old cloaks to bed with you. It had been in a moment of haziness in your grieving stupor, a late night when a storm raged not just in your heart, but outside the walls of Dragonstone. Your bare feet had drug across the floor with a soft scrape, leading you to his old wardrobe. A cloak, of deep crimson, found its way into your hands. It was an old one, one he had not donned for some time. But it was soft and weighted in your hands. Sheltered amongst his other dressings, it smelt distinctly of him. Of rosemary oil, old cedar, the smell of Vermax’s scales, and the underlying hint of the specific musk that clung to his skin. The fabric has not left your hands ever since.

You distinctly remember a time, in recent memory, when he’d returned late to your chambers from flying with Vermax. He’d left for the dragonmount with a tick in his jaw and a deep furrow in his brow, frustrated by his perceived coddling by those at the council and his own mother. Sometimes, there was a restlessness in him that not even you could settle. You knew, far too well by now, that it is a burden he must unleash in the sky. When he’d returned; his shoulders were unburdened, his curls windswept, his cheeks tinged with lasting nips from the air, and a small smile revealed a small dimple in his cheeks . A light sparkled in his eyes as he laid eyes on you, his wife.

You’d laughed as he swept you into his arms. You had soon wrinkled your nose and wriggled in his hold as he buried his face to your neck, his nose was still cold from outside. His curls tickled your chin and jaw, the smell of dragon was thick and cloying in your nostrils.

“At least wash first, Jacaerys. Your smell will transfer to me.” You’d huffed, exasperation laced with ever present affection. He’d merely hummed in response, a bright smile spreading against your skin. His arms pulled you even closer, melding your bodies together as he lent over you. He nipped lightly at the skin of your neck in retaliation, making you jolt in his arms. Any additional scolding died on your tongue as he brushed those sinful lips up your throat to smother your face in kisses.

You would give anything to smell the heavy scent of cinders and sulfur on him again. He could smell of volcanic ash for the rest of your life and you would not care so long as he was breathing in your arms. You lay, prone with suffering, clutching the cloak to your chest. If you closed your eyes hard enough, you could almost pretend he was beside you again. Your tears soaked the fabric like blood seeping through gauze. The smell of him faded by the day, and you still refused to let go. Your face was pressed to the fabric, almost as if you wanted to smother yourself in it.

“Please, please, please.” You mouth into the red expanse, begging for a return of something that will never come.

You could only find sleep clutching the linens, like a child with a prized blanket or doll.

It is on the morn of the third week without him that you find the strength to leave your chambers. That is when he begins to come back to you. -

Since rising, you can hardly stand to be in the keep of Dragonstone. It is too empty. Barren. You drift the halls like a ghost, palored and untouchable. The twisting walls and damp darkness feel all too much like a crypt.

You have not seen the Queen since the news of her son’s death. The servants whisper to each other in fear, about the mother who has had all love burned away from her with the loss of her eldest. You do not try to go to her, you fear to lay eyes upon the woman Rhaenyra has become.

Baela is on the back of Moondancer more than ever before, flying the dragon to near exhaustion every day. You understand it, you can no longer stand the stifling labyrinth of the keep yourself.

That is why, today, you’ve taken to the beaches.

You had scarcely allowed your handmaidens to run a comb through your tresses before you’d been up and moving. You’d thrown a woolen dress over your chemise and some shoes before abruptly departing, with his cloak slung over your shoulders like a blanket. You’d ignored the confused calls of your helpers, you’d apologize to them later. The walls had felt as if they were closing in on you, suffocating you. You’d remained in there too long. A moment longer, and you’d felt as if you’d be buried under ancient rubble. It’d caused a thick panic to seize your throat, you needed escape. You couldn’t breathe that stale air any longer.

You keep your eyes trained on the sand in front of you. You refuse to acknowledge the water, as if that would give it power over you. The sound of the sliding waves, coming, receding, and coming again, seemed to taunt you. You are glad for the heavy fog. It covers you like a shroud, hiding your heavy grief and sunken disposition to the eyes of all, including the gods.

The sea is greedy and unknowable. It has stolen from you, it mocks you. Yet, you cannot help but feel the nostalgia and comfort from the constant white noise. When it was sunny, he used to walk arm and arm with you along these very same shores.

The sand tracks your steps, a reminder of the breath that still fills your lungs and your blood still flowing through your veins. Even if you were missing your heart. The wind blows your hair around you, the occasional wisp of it brushing your cheek. The cold bit at your nose and cheeks, you kept the lower half of your face buried in the crimson cloak around your shoulders.

You do not know how long you walk for, you’re in a daze. You could have made entire laps around the isle and you would not notice. Your eyes flick up once, to gauge your surroundings, that’s when you see him.

And it is him. You know it is. You’d know him anywhere, even at this distance. It’s the faint outline through the fog, tousled curls, a billowing cloak, a lithe form. It makes you stop in your tracks, your breath evacuating your lungs.

You’re left stunned. Your body doesn’t know what to do with itself. Your stomach drops and your heart hammers painfully in your chest. Your limbs are paralyzed. Your eyes are trained on him, chest scarcely moving with breath. You watch him as… he seems to be watching you. The world has frozen. Your body doesn’t know whether it should be afraid, hopeful, or some other third emotion.

Have you gone mad? Has your grief touched you so deeply that it has irrevocably harmed your mind? Your gut twists with the wrongness of it all, of this. He was dead, you knew this. The ocean holds its breath. You feel a sweat break out along your brow, alarm bells ringing in every section of your mind. And that isn’t right, this is your Jacaerys. That was him. It was him-

The tether that seems to immortally tie you together tugged at your heart, reeling you in like a fish on a line. Every fiber of your being buzzed with the urge to rush to him, to combine his sinews with your own so he might never leave you again. You want to cling to him so tightly that your nails would draw rivulets of fire and blood.

My love, my love, my love-

You shut your eyes tightly, taking three deep breaths. For an instant, the scent of cedar engulfs you so completely that it sucks the air from your lungs. There’s a brush of fingers across your cheek that causes your body to shudder, they are frigid. A faint whisper of a low, regal voice reaches you on the wind.

In a moment, it’s all gone.

You open your eyes. There is no one around you. The fog is empty of all its secrets. The sea continues sighing as it always does. The smell of something earthy and pungent reaches your nose, the wind is picking up. A storm is on the horizon.

You stand there for a moment longer, every sense searching for any trace of him.

When the rain starts, you’re forced to turn and pick your way back to the keep.

The storm that began when you left has not ceased, that does not stop you.

You keep coming back to that spot. Over and over and over again, hoping for just a glimpse of him, any hint.

You feel as if you’re going mad. You can feel him there, something of his presence. You know him, you would know him anywhere. He’s there, he’s here, somewhere. He’s trying to get back to you, like he promised.

And yet, you do not see another trace of him for a long while. You keep returning to the shore each day. It’s almost an obsession, the search. You pace around the beaches, heading down at dawn and only coerced to retreat at nightfall.

There is one day when you break down. You stare down the Narrow Sea with angry eyes. Your hands and chest tremble with the extent of it. Why won’t it reveal him to you again? Why must it take everything? Why must it withhold him?

You wade into the surf, despite the cold air around you. It laps at your calves. It begs for you to wade closer, to dive beneath it’s all knowing depths to drag your heart back to the surface. The laughing white tops dance and swirl, turning your legs numb only after a few moments.

In the turn of a moment, you snap. You curse, spit, and cry at the ocean. You kick and throw sand like a woman deranged. You hiss out venomous words of hatred and raving disgust. You beg and cry for your husband back. You offer the ocean anything it wants.

The outburst leaves your chest heaving. You slowly slide to your knees, sobs wracking your chest as the rain soaks your clothes… his cloak is heavy on your back. It almost feels like cool arms around you. The waves soak your dress, the push and pull of the tide causing your body to lull to and fro.

A knight of the Queensguard finds you just after sunset, still sitting where you collapsed. He thinks you are almost dead. Your hands tremble, lips blue, eyes glossy. Your whole body is wracked with powerful shivers, yet you hardly notice when he calls out to you. Your gaze is still trained on the dark ocean, waiting for any slight glimpse of brown hair or pale skin. -

Your efforts, it seems, are not in vain. You sense the traces of him constantly after that.

One morning, you catch the tail end of his scent on your sheets. You spot a red flash of velvet turning down the hall, hear murmurings that sound strangely like his voice when you stand on your terrace, feel a caress on your cheek when you cry, feel the brush of curls under your chin when you try to rest at night combined with a heavy weight on your chest.

He is trying to come back to you, you know it.

Every day he gets closer. -

You have not dreamt often since his death, but when you do it is always the same thing.

It begins with you falling. The air is so limitless that you think you might be flailing until you turn to dust. It is not dark, nor silent. The air is bright and you can see clouds above you. Around you, the screams of men, the roar of dragons, and splintering wood consumes your hearing. The smell of sulfur and burnt flesh makes your stomach turn.

Then you hit the water. Your body is wracked with pain from the impact, every limb stings. You’re stunned with shock and cannot move, sinking. You will drown here. Up and down are confused in your scrambled mind. When your lips part for air, water invades like a greedy interloper; filling your lungs and aiming to take your life. Your limbs flail and claw towards where the light shines down, reaching for you.

Finally, you break through the waves, coughing and sputtering. Your lungs heave with the exertion of spitting up water while simultaneously fighting to get air in. Legs kick beneath you to keep you afloat, though every movement shoots pain through you. When you hit the water, it felt like hitting hard earth. Your body burns, exhaustion begging you to just cease and let the sea claim you.

Adrenaline burns through your veins like fire. You cannot give up. You made a promise.

A piece of driftwood bumps into your side, a savior amongst the chaos. You cling to it, your hands shaking. If you could just hold on, hold out, you could make it back to her. What else could you possibly do? And Vermax… Oh, poor Vermax-

You don’t have the time to process your dear companions death before you feel some split through your shoulder. It jolts you forward, your chin smacking against the rough wreckage you hold onto. Then, the pain blooms through you- white hot. You grunt, your eyes screwing shut. It’s unlike anything you’ve felt before, it reaches deep within you and feels like it’s trying to break through to your chest. The wound throbs, radiating through your whole body. Blood gushed around the crossbow bolt in your back as if it was eager to jump in the water below. Before you can even think, another pain embeds itself in your lower back, making your muscles lock as you cry out. You lose control of yourself for a moment, your body slipping down your refuge. You dig your nails into the wet and decaying wood, splinters embedding themselves under your skin.

Something wet and warm fills your mouth, it tastes like iron, it dribbles down your chin like a drunkard's dribbling wine. It’s getting harder to hold on, your body fighting between survival and giving into the pain. But you must. You’ve no choice but to hold on. Someone will find you, someone will help-

You must make it back to your mother, your family, to your heart…

Something rips through your neck, cruel iron revealing red muscle to the world. Everything goes black. -

You wake choking. Your lungs take a few moments to suck in a full breath. You’re panting, lying on your side, Jace’s old cloak clutched in your fingers. In the darkness, the deep red seeps through your hands like his blood. Your eyes are cloudy with tears, a sob lodged in your throat. The recurring dream rarely lets you sleep through the night without grief.

When you shift, you feel a warm arm around your waist, a body pressed at your back.

It makes you freeze, your veins turning to ice.

He notices this. He has always been so attuned to you. That remains so, even in death. A gentle shushing reaches your ears, a toned arm tightening around your side. Curls tickle your neck, his nose bumping against the hard bone of your shoulder.

“It’s alright, my love. It’s me, I promise.” The royal timbre of his voice brushes over your skin. And it’s so real… so tangible. You can feel him against you, his voice is right at your ear, and, when you look, you can see his arm around you… As if his death and these past months were all but an extended nightmare.

Was it?

“Jace?” You breathe, voice wavering. You can almost taste your heart in your throat, your palms becoming clammy. You move to turn to face him but his grip around you tightens, holding you still.

“I don’t-” He stops. When he speaks again, it’s quiet. “I don’t wish for you to see me... like this.”

The words send a shiver down your spine, something like fear gripping your heart. Unease takes hold of you and you shift against him, breath picking up.

“What-” You start, still trying to wrap your mind around what was happening. He’d made his way back to you but what had happened? What did he mean?

Your words are cut off by the brush of lips over your skin, skimming across your shoulder. His lips are as plush as you remember. They brand themselves into your memory once again. It makes you shudder. He begins to press soft kisses to the crook of your neck.

“I am sorry it took me so long…” Jacaerys begins, his arm around you shifts so he can rub circles into your stomach. The touch causes your eyes to flutter shut, it was a familiar comfort. “But I’m back now. I swear, I will never leave you again.”

Your mind fights against itself. You struggle to even wrap your head around how he’s managed to appear like this when you’ve been trying to catch glimpses of him for weeks. On the one hand, you know he’s dead. He is not alive, he has not tried to convince you otherwise. What was he? Should you be indulging in something so… unnatural?

The other part of you begs all rationality to quiet. He was Jacaerys wasn’t he? Your heart, your husband… the person you’ve been begging to return to you. He has granted your wish, has he not? You are in no position to be picky about the way in which he has done it. You would know him even at the end of the world, deafened and blind, you’d know him.

The relief of his return is what ends up winning.

“I’ve missed you.” The words are reverently pressed against your skin, as if you were the Maiden and your body a place of worship. One arm slides under your body to hold you close as his other slides down to your hips, a cool hand brushing over your abdomen. Which was odd… how has the blood of the dragon cooled within him?

His kisses become more insistent, lips trailing across your pulse and your throat. When his teeth nip at the sensitive skin, you jerk against him. You’ve not been touched like this in such a long time, not since he’s left you. You feel the familiar stirring in your stomach, the desire for him. You're dazed, left breathless by his sudden return to you and the heat he is kindling under your skin.

“Missed you too… so much…” You whisper in response, your body being wound by his expert touches. It’s almost overwhelming. You’ve grieved painfully for him and now he was here… touching you.

You suck in a breath as he uses his teeth to tug your chemise sleeve down your shoulder. Jacaerys takes advantage of the open skin, left undisturbed since his absence. You can feel him almost trembling against you as he presses desperate kisses along wherever he can reach. The one arm tightens around your ribs, palm brushing underneath your chest. The other brushes along your abdomen, traveling along your thigh. He toys, dangerously, with the hem of your chemise. Despite the coolness of his skin, his touch brands you all the same. The faint smell of cedarwood and sea salt reaches your nose, filling your lungs. You're surrounded, held, by just him, him, him.

It hits you then, the bittersweetness of it all. He is here, but not as he was. He will never be your Jacaerys again. Here was his spectre, to give you a sliver of what you’d had while he’d lived. Jacaerys’ bright shining light and warmth has been dulled to dim cinders. You cannot help the tears brimming your eyes. It is a complicated thing, the emotions that swirl within you. He has defied the Stranger to be here with you again, but things will not return to how they were.

Your lungs shake with a withheld sob, warm tears trailing down your flushed cheeks. It is an odd opposition to the feelings his touches are evoking. You find one of his hands, the one lingering near your chest, and you bring it up to your lips to press a kiss to his palm. His hands are still soft yet so cold…

Jace can feel your chest heaving, the quiet sounds of heartbreak you try to withhold. Your heated tears soak into his hand pressed against your plush mouth. He stops his heated kisses, stills his wandering hands. You cannot see it, but his brows furrowed with concern. His forehead presses to your shoulder, a shuddering breath leaving him. Warm breath brushes over bare skin.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry, my love. I didn’t mean to- I… I didn’t wish to upset you. I will stop. I’ve only missed you so much, I could not help-” His voice is apologetic, saddened. It breaks his heart to see you so distraught. Jacaerys thinks his advances are unwanted, that you are disgusted by his undead return.

That could not be farther from the truth.

You cut him off quickly.

“No-” Your voice cracks over the words. You swallow thickly, clutching his hand to your lips as if he’ll disappear at the slightest loosening. “Please. Please, stay. I want you. I need you so badly, Jacaerys… Let me be close to you again. Let us be one.” You utter, voice watery and edging on desperation.

You crave this closeness with him, to feel your husband as yours once again. You have no clue if he will even be able to return to you after this. What rules to the dead follow? You will take all you can of him, let him consume you, possess you.

His fingers mess with the lacy bottom of your nightdress again, testing the waters. He presses his lips to your shoulder blade.

“You are sure?” Jacaerys whispers against you, needing your permission. He wants his wife again. To feel as if he can be hers in the way she needs him again, even if just for a short moment.

“Please…” You almost beg, desire sweeping through your undertones. Your gentle hand finds his own on your thigh, guiding his nimble hand under your chemise and between her thighs. There is an audible hitch in his breath as you guide him to cup you through your small clothes.

You sniffle and gasp, arching into his touch.

Jacaerys curses softly, you feel long lashes brush against your skin as he screws his eyes shut. He shifts against you, hand leaving your guidance only for a moment to grasp your thigh. It’s hitched over his hip, opening you for him. You’re almost surprised to feel that his skin is bare behind you. You ache to look upon him, to cup his face and kiss him till your heart is whole again… but you stay how he wants you.

His hand returns to you again, gingerly brushing over the inside of your thigh. He’s memorizing the feel of you again, of your smooth skin under his own. You feel so alive, so plush, thrumming with the ichor of life. He groans as his hand slips to the apex of your thighs again, feeling your smallclothes are already damp. You wriggle against him, hiccuping with soft cries as your tears refuse to cease.

He whispers your name, a breathless prayer. His chin perches on your shoulder as he continues to feel you through your fabric. Downy curls brush across your cheek, soaking up the dampness that lies upon it. His other hand moves from your kisses to tug down the neckline of your chemise, revealing your bare chest. You whine as he takes one in his palm, thumbing over it. Your eyes flutter shut, head leaning back against him. He takes this as an invitation to kiss your bare throat. You push yourself back into him, feeling his arousal at your haunches. Jacaerys makes a soft noise of pleasure, hips grinding against you for only a moment.

His hand at your core shifts. Your breath picks up, stuttering over gentle whimpers, as he slides his nimble fingers beneath your smallclothes. He’s murmuring soft words into your skin, yet your mind can hardly process them when his fingers swipe through your wet center. You gasp, pressing back into him as your hips jerk into his touch.

He groans, biting lightly at your shoulder before soothing it with his tongue.

“Oh, my love…” He murmurs, sounding almost amazed. Jacaerys is breathless behind you, massaging your breast in one hand as the other explores your arousal. You can hardly take the perceived teasing, squirming in his hold.

Your tears have begun to slow, your sweet grief overshadowed by pleasure. You had not realized how much you’d craved his gentle intimacy till you had it again.

“Jacaerys, please.” You moan, hand reaching to wrap loosely around his wrist. He shushes you gently, pressing soothing kisses to the crook of your shoulder.

“I’ve got you…” Your husband soothes. His lithe digits press your clit for a moment, making you mewl, before he’s sliding a finger into you.

You gasp at the feeling, you have not felt such pleasure for too long. He’s mesmerized. His kisses have ceased their gentle assault as he watches with amazement, his eyes focused on his hand beneath your nightdress. You’re already slick enough for him to make the slide easy. The way you tighten your hand around his wrist and shift back against him is indicator enough that you need more.

His second finger breaches you easily. Your moan comes louder now, almost a sigh of relief. His fingers have always reached so much deeper than yours can, brushing against the gummy spot within you that he only knew to reach. You roll your hips with every gentle push of his fingers, a slow rhythm being set. He hums, lips skimming across your skin. Every once in a while, he sucks marks into your neck, laying waste to the previously clean slate. His hips buck against you, trying to find some friction. He cannot help it, it’s almost embarrassing. He craves you more than life itself.

Lashes brush across your cheeks as your eyes flutter. Every pump of his digits has you whining. He always stretches you so fully, so deeply. The sounds are almost embarrassing, a slick slide becoming apparent with every thrust. Your body welcomes his touch into your tight heat, wet and eager. Your cheeks burn, mind hazy with the pleasure of it all. Momentarily, you forget every bit of the world around you. You are his again and he is yours. You gladly let him take whatever he wants from you. Your heart is his.

He begins to curl his fingers within you, picking up the gentle pace. His thumb finds your pearl, rubbing it in tight circles. Your plump lips part over a mewl, your hips jerking into his every touch. Jacaerys feels as if he might come simply at the feeling of you against him once again; as your body melds to his, the way you squeeze his fingers tightly, the way you cry and beg for more. It has been far too long. But he never intends to leave you again.

“My poor wife…” He mumbles to you, his voice low and punched out. “Her pleasure has been neglected for far too long… I will fix that. I’ll make sure you never go without a warm bed for the rest of your life.” The undead prince promises. It does not occur to you at the time to think too deeply about his words.

Soon, you're writhing against him. Your eyes screw tightly shut, your throat constricting over moans. Your cunt squeezes and flutters around his digits, brought to release at his expert touches. You ride it out beautifully; lips parted, red marks blooming across the one side of your throat, body flushed, and your grasp on his wrist forcing him still as you take your pleasure from him. He can feel your release dripping down his palm, messy and desperate. It makes his body tighten with desire. He craves to be inside you, to make you his wife again, to feel the ultimate form of connection they can share.

“That’s it… Take what you need, my girl. You can have it all…” He praises, the filthy words curling over your skin. And you do.

You slump back into him, grip growing slack around his arm. He gingerly pulls his fingers from you, shushing you as you whine at the loss. His arm leaves you for a moment… but you hear him licking his hand clean of your release. It makes your gut swirl with heat, your body buzzing with the eagerness of having him again.

Jacaerys’ veined hand keeps working at your breast as he lets you catch your breath. Soon enough, you're shifting against him again. You can feel his cock pressed against you and he’s been so so patient. You press yourself back to him, you both moan in tandem with him at the friction it provides.

He suckles at your neck, breathing heavily. His hand tightens at your chest, feeling you almost roughly.

“Please.” He utters. Jacaerys was never one to beg easily. But his soft whimper always made your knees weak and heart flutter, arousal flowing through your veins like the wine of the gods. “Let me take you again, my heart… I’ve missed you. I just.. I just need you again.”

You're nodding before he can finish his next sentence. You want to kiss him so badly. You want to lick into his mouth as you let him claim you. You wish to spend all night with him warming your bed and pressing his imprint back into your body till the memory is ingrained into your sinews forever.

“Take me…” You breathe.

That’s all he needs.

Jacaerys moans against you. His nips at your pulse point as his free hand slides your small clothes down your legs. You kick them away swiftly. He hitches your leg over his bony hip once again, exposing your bared core.

He positions himself at your entrance, almost trembling with the effort to hold himself back. He pants against you, pressing his nose to your throat. Your eyes flutter as you feel his disheveled hair caressing your skin. Your body hums with anticipation, clenching around nothing.

It’s a momentary stillness, almost as if the room itself is holding its breath.

Then, he’s pushing into you.

You’ve never felt so complete. Your lips part over a silent moan, your body trembling against him. He groans loudly into your neck, almost whimpering. He mouths over your skin, as if to distract himself from the overwhelming pressure of sliding home to you once again. His kisses are wet and hot, tongue laving over your throat as if he was trying to eat you.

Your body flutters around him. He moves slowly, letting you adjust to taking him once again. It used to be a nightly ritual for you both, but now… it was something reverent. Your chest heaves, he fills you so completely. He isn’t even pressed in fully yet but it forces your body to make room for him. It’s beautiful. Jace’s hand tightens on your thigh, keeping you spread open despite your fluttering muscles.

Soon, you can almost feel him in your lungs. His hips press flush to your backside. You both pant, breathing synced. His thumb brushes your nipple, causing you to mewl and squirm against him. Your cunt flutters, adjusting to the stretch. You cannot handle the stillness any longer.

“Jacaerys…” You moan. He knows that inflection in your voice all too well. He rolls his hips against you, punching a groan out of you both. He feels almost frenzied, having your perfect body wrapped around his cock once again.

Soft rolls soon turn into gentle thrusts. It feels like he forces the air out of you with every move. The stretch soon becomes intensely pleasurable. His hand on your chest and thigh holds you in place, holding you open for him to take, for the slick slide of his cock. And you’re so much more than willing.

Your eyes flutter closed, your mouth parted with continuous whines and mewls. You sing so prettily for him. He tries to bite back his pathetic whimpers, but it’s little use. He’s soon moaning into your neck, always so loud and needy for you. He can feel your walls sucking him in, pulling him deeper with every thrust. His hips hit your plump backside with every move. He feels as if he’s reached heaven.

“My love..” He whines against your skin, greedily kissing and licking at any skin he can. He nips at your jaw, your throat, your pulse, your shoulder, even your arm. It’s frenzied, wet, hot, desperate.

“I’m sorry..” He rambles on, causing your chest to tighten. You whine, mouth opening to argue his apology but a moan takes its place as he picks up his pace.

“Broke my promise..” Jacaerys continues, nosing along your jaw. “But not anymore. Not leaving you ever again… My wife… my beautiful beautiful girl… Always so good for me. Saw you mourning me..” As he speaks, his hand moves from your thigh, finding your pearl and pressing mercilessly into it. It causes your body to jolt, your cunt fluttering around him. You’re left almost breathless with pleasure, voice hoarse from crying out to him in bliss.

“I’ll take care of you now.. I promise. Never again, never breaking my promise again… I’ve got you.” He murmurs, an oath formed with a gentle kiss to the thudding pulse beating against your neck. You gasp out, rolling your hips back into him with every firm slide of him within you.

You’re embarrassingly close already, body spasming around his length. He hits every place within you that makes your body light with fiery rapture. His hand has never moved from your chest, firmly holding you against his own as he feels you. The other works mercilessly at your clit, playing you like an instrument made just for him.

“I love you, I love you, I love you…” You repeat over and over again, the confession barely made over heaving breaths. Then, you’re pushed over the edge.

You cry out, gasping as waves of pleasure roll through you. You gasp and ramble meaningless sweet things, incoherent. You hear yourself repeating his name like a prayer. You clench tightly around him, taking all the pleasure you can. It makes him whine, arms tightening around you as he finds himself in a similar state.

Jace’s breaths are shaky, raspy as he pleads your name. It rolls off his tongue easier than his own, the sound melting over you like honey. The tight slide of him within you, the sounds you make, the all consuming heat of you against him has him following you over the edge.

A hand slides from your chest to your throat, tilting your head back against him as he muffles his pathetic moans into your throat. He pumps his hips; once, twice more before he’s spilling into you. He fills you to the very brim and you’ve craved that very warmth. You feel so alive, so full, so thoroughly had.

Panting is the only thing heard in the room, breathy whines reverberating off the stone walls. His hands slacken around you, shifting to a comfortable hold. You can feel Jace practically drooling on your shoulder, no doubt blissed out as he always is after such intimacy. He is pressed deeply within you, kissing your womb. He makes no move to remove himself yet.

But eventually, you whine from the overstimulating feeling and your body’s sensitivity. He shudders as he pulls out of you. You can feel his release dripping down your thighs. You regret the absence but you both know your bodies well enough to know it must be done.

You take advantage of the lull in his guard. You turn quickly in his arms to face him, too swift for him to make a move to stop you.

Jacaerys speaks your name, startled. It’s a protest that comes much too late.

Your heart feels as if it shatters in your chest.

He is your Jacaerys… but he is changed. He looks much like he did before. His skin contains its color, as if he still holds life. His freckles stand out on the bridge of his nose, his curls disheveled across his forehead, his eyes watery as they meet yours.

But what catches your attention the most is the crossbow bolt through his neck. The wound does not ooze and bleed as it would normally, it is more a stationary part of him now. There is only the red, irritated flesh where the metal enters and exits him. It is a cruel reminder of how he’d suffered his fate.

Jacaerys shuts his eyes tightly at the sound of your startled gasp. He turns his head into the pillow beneath him, almost looking ashamed. He hadn’t wanted you to see him like this… and yet you’d discovered him anyway.

Trembling hands reach out to cup his face, tilting it towards your own. When his eyes find yours, he finds your bright eyes filled with tears. Your bottom lip wavers with the effort to withhold your cries. He shushes you gently, his own hand coming up to brush away the first tear that falls.

“Oh, Jacaerys…” You murmur weakly. You're quick to pull him to you, clinging to him so tightly that he thinks his apparition of flesh will blend with your life. As your hands slide around his back to hug him, you discover two more bolts. One in his shoulder, the other in his lower back. You whimper against him, face pressed into his collarbone. You cannot imagine the pain he’d gone through… the fear he’d felt as he felt life slipping through his fingers and bleeding into a hungry ocean. Your warm tears seep into his skin. He holds you close in turn, his hands press their firm marks into your skin, clutching you close like you’re salvation. He buries his face deeply into your hair and shutting his own bleary eyes.

You’ve seen him, the worst of him, and your first instinct is to pull him to you… not to flinch away in fear or disgust… He loves you, more than anything else.

“I’m so sorry.” You sob into him, chest heaving with the weight of it. “I’m so sorry, Jace…”

He shakes his head immediately, pressing his lips to your hair.

“Don’t.” Jacaerys murmurs to you, his voice quiet and shaky. “It is no fault of yours, my heart…”

He gently pulls away to make you look up at him, his eyes soft as they meet your own. He presses your foreheads together.

“I’ve made it back to you, my love. I told you… the Stranger could not even keep me. I belong to you. Heart, body, and soul… You shall never be without me again. I will crawl back to you if I have to, always.” He promises. You do not comprehend the full extent of it but your heart warms with the words of utter devotion. Jacaerys has defied death and will continue to do so… for you.

He’s always been so stubborn.

Your eyes flutter shut as his lips brush your tears away.

“I am yours… I love you.” You whisper to him, throat tight but your words sincere.

Then, you press close to kiss him. It is all gentle and saccharine.

That night, you fall asleep with him in your bed. His tresses brush your chin as his face is buried into your neck, you can feel his breath fan across you, his plush lips pressed to your skin. His hand rests protectively over your still beating heart. You cannot feel the beat of his own, but his chest rises and falls with your breaths. Your arms rest around his shoulders, greedily holding him to you, face pressed to the crown of his head. The smell of cedar chokes you but you happily suffocate in it. His old cloak is wrapped around you both.

It is the best sleep you’ve had in weeks. -

The next morning, you wake alone.

You feel the most rested you have since Jacaerys has passed. The memory of his loving touch, even if just a dream, was a pleasant one you cling to as the Sun coaxes you awake. You are unsure if it was real. The more that dawn lights your rooms, the more unlikely it seems. The storm that has haunted Dragonstone for weeks has seemingly passed.

Strangely, your immediate grief is stifled as your eyes flutter open, something warm and pleasant wrapped about you like a blanket. Your body hums with the feeling of rest and intimate exertion. Jace’s burgundy cloak is tucked nicely around you, you bury your face into it until your handmaidens come to rouse you from your bed.

You are groggy, still half-asleep as they begin to dress you.

You are startled when one of your maidens gasps, stilling in her braiding of your hair.

“My lady! What has happened to your neck?”

Her hand cautiously brushes along your shoulder and you hiss, the skin surprisingly sensitive. Your eyes sharpen, finding what she’s talking about in the mirror.

Lying stark in hues of red, pink, and purples are violent looking love bites.

#jacaerys velaryon #fanfiction #house of the dragon #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys x you

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eldrith · 3 months ago

Text

˗ˏˋ A Golden Cup ˎˊ˗ Jacaerys Velaryon

jacaerys velaryon x targtower fem!reader [part four of a golden cage series.] words: 14.2k. synopsis: The chains of faith are not so easily cast aside. notes: we are soooo locking in to trauma in this chap. we are soooo drinking from teacups and gossiping with our friends. we are sooooo going to an awkward dinner party. we are sooooo teaching our boyfriend how to pray. we are sooooo scared & sooooo miserable! this is sooooo unedited! but sorry to the people who are here for smut bc there is none in this chapter. enjoy the plot <3 xoxox (pretend i didn't disappear for half a year tyvm) warnings: emotional complexities. unreliable narrator. maybe premonition. canon-typical violence/blood/injury, angst. character death. religious trauma, all kinds of trauma, inner monologues, kissing and some fluff. doubting religion AND the crown. foreshadowing if that's a warning requests closed. this is for my irl roommate & personal kissing mannequin @dipperscavern . & for the loml & other kissing mannequin @systraes . you are the void i shout to. fate into flesh or whatever they say idk. febu previous. series masterlist. masterlist.

PEACE FINDS YOU IN THE MOST BIZARRE OF CIRCUMSTANCES.

It has followed in every step of life – the moment a foot slips from a stirrup, a smile in the first drop on dragonback. Quiet prayers whispered through the torrential downpour on the night your brother slayed Lucerys; Patient words under the scrutiny of the Queen’s entire court. A hand, unwaveringly gripped around sharp steel as your betrothed pointed his sword down your nose.

Perhaps it is a simple and base instinct, some quiet mechanism within the folds of your skittish mind – or, even more likely, a small cry out for mercy to the gods who watch upon those simply caught in the trappings of circumstance.

You were just a young girl, barely old enough to steadily hold yourself upright, when they’d placed the babe in your arms.

Such a small creature. Fresh from the womb, the Septas had pressed him to your chest, murmuring you would be fine for a few minutes; that you had the wisdom of the Mother already, although you'd hardly seen three name days pass yourself.

His skin was so very soft – wisps of those paled curls, the very same that grow from the crown all your siblings, glinted so gently in the muggy heat of afternoon; little shining threads of gold caught in the glaze of sunbreath.

And that violet gaze, locked up at you; an innocence so premature, so unassuming.

It had arrested you, that gaze: Devotion, love, those pure things which he only just learned and had yet to truly understand. All because he knew not any other way; a warmth that had entrapped you within your mind, reeling to recall any similar expressions of affection from your mother nor father at any point in your small life.

You’d come up with scraps: A half-prideful stare from your father, the whisper of Rhaenyra on his breath; your mother’s approving glance when you turned your nose at the presence of the boys wearing cloaks of blue and curls of deep umber. But Daeron - so little, so loving; it had sent such distraction through you that you noticed not as his skin grew rather flushed against the blanket, as his wails grew louder by the short-passing moment.

Your mother wrapped him herself – that, you’d noticed; in lovely cerulean stitching, etched with small embroideries of towers and dragons – but in your admiration of such needlework, his cries became shallow gasps and wails.

You’d known not what to do; entranced in such a calm, paralyzing shock – you’d never seen such light go out of a gaze, never heard such wails taper into pitiful whimpers.

Fear slapping your spine rigid, a solemn beat of your heart as you stared helplessly, flooded with an arresting, unnatural calm.

The Septas returned not moments later, and you still thank the Gods to this day that they did.

Daeron’s breath had been faint – and later that night under the blanket of dark, you’d wondered with tears in your eyes if he’d gone and met the Stranger while still in your hands, if just for a moment.

But the Septas returned.

The blankets had been ripped away and you’d remained in the corner, hands frozen still in the shape of his little bundle, eyes wide and fingers trembling. There’d been nothing within your mind as you watched the Septas scream for the Maesters, as they rushed to cool the expiring soul of your young brother – a wash of calm, in the fear that’d gripped you so tight.

You’d not understood until much later - only when the Septas whispered while you hid behind curtains thicker than your hair. He’d nearly died.

After all, one should know better than to trust children with children.

“Princess.”

And her voice comes to you in a song; or perhaps, a warm memory of silkspun silver tresses and a dreaming gaze – of gentle hums, of clicking legs, of fingers tracing delicate wings through golden cages.

“Princess.”

You swear, you could feel her fingers trace your spine now-

“Princess.”

Your eyes open; less than startled, though your inhale is sharp from your nose.

The tub is warmed with water, and you are bathed gently within it. Your sister is beside you, her gown a deep charcoal; a shade of burnt ash, of rusted spikes somewhere far below where you sit.

Her vision swims in the reflection of your bathwater; You suck in a breath.

“Helaena.” You whisper, blinking away the smudged drops of bathwater from your face.

A quiet moment.

“Pardon me, my Princess?”

Your blink is languid – water sticks to your lashes, clotting your vision until your sweet sister beside you nearly looks like a spider; then, she is a snake – a strike of fear, and sharp spokes which jump up towards you at the end of a long path, and you’re falling – another blink, and you jolt.

Helaena is gone; instead sits Elina, your handmaid. She watches with widened eyes as she tends to your tresses with a comb and soft hands.

A gentle shake of head, the motion snagging a tangle within the spokes of the comb – but you do not wince, eyeing the girl beside you with a bizarre stare. The world is cloudy; not only the skies above, but your own vision, your foggy mind.

“I’m–” You blink again, fighting a sheepish fluster from your cheeks – two other girls in your chambers attend to you, as well. One, scrubbing your nails, the other across the way, preparing evening tea – and they too have paused, hands slowing as they turn to watch you with owl-eyes.

Your lips flounder for only a moment. “Pardon me. I thought… I was recalling memory, I suppose. Of… the Red Keep.” You admit dreamily – you’re unsure why you admit such foolish delusion, though the two girls beside you keep their eyes focused nonetheless.

The maid across the way quickly turns her head away when you seek her; and with quick fingers, she pulls her sleeves over a glimmering spider’s silk scar. An inkling of recognition, slipping away in the afternoon breeze; she measures a dark red herb into a small steeper before the ridges of her spine straighten slowly. Outside, a bird calls. It sounds like a cry.

“Have you slept much as of late?” Elina wonders from beside you, a wisp of blonde peeking from her tied hair. She is a sweet girl – the fondness you hold for her is one tinged with only a piling guilt these days, one which adds in each passing moon. You clear your throat, unoccupied fingers trailing through the ripples upon the water.

A spiced aroma grows within the steamed room – the handmaid has begun pouring your tea, and it bleeds a crimson colour into the teacup. A flash of familiarity in the sweep of her face, though you blink and it is once again gone; It is not often you do not particularly recognize one of the members of household, though perhaps as of recent, such politeness has gotten away from you.

“Forgive me,” your voice is a dream of a far away land. “The Queen’s council has left me…weary this evening.” You admit, sighing.

In the quiet passing of time, eventually your nails and body are cleansed; your mind troubled with thoughts of marriage – but more so with lips, cherry and bitten, with a voice low and murmuring; with a warm gaze turned sharp in the fall of eve; of whispered words and promises in a room floating with ancient dust.

With a quieted voice, you dismiss the maid to your right.

Only moments before the tea is set for you, its tendrils curling up viciously and out towards your open window; the scent is spicy, foreign. “Is this a new blend?” You wonder aloud - the girl with skittish eyes nods, a small squeak from her throat, “Yes, Princess.” She affirms. “A gift from the Queen herself. In congratulations.” Her voice warbles, fingers twitching – a vision of nerves in court, of fingers against a dress of gold.

And there, in the mirror of her anxiety, is that phantom limb once more; a memory lost to a life that is far gone now.

You hum, transfixed on the steam which curls out in spools over the stone table beside the tub. A peculiar gift from the queen – the tea swirls opposite the steam of your bath, and its scent tethers you to the heavy pull of your spine. Your stomach rumbles in interest.

She bows and takes her leave; it is not until you are once again alone with Elina that you speak once more. Through the peace of eveningfall, you ask her of her love again – and as always, she flushes like a rose.

The island breathes in green, slowly blinking a sunset of orange and pink; Elina whispers of the boy she loves as tendrils of scented oils climb into your nostrils and soothe the aches in your muscles. It is a tale she has amused you with many times but one you have not grown weary of either.

A fisherboy from the east coast of the island – a sweetheart since her age of ten, if there ever was such a thing; he has brown curls, an upturned nose, and a laugh like the raucous sea.

Though times have indeed changed, perhaps just as much for the common folk as for you in your ivory castles; with the influx of wartime supplies to the island across the sea, she must only dream of him now; and her tales of youthful kisses and chivalrous walks upon a shoreline grow melancholy as you stare out the window before you, Moondancer’s shadow echoing in the rippled waves of the tides far away.

In the dawn of her tale, she murmurs gently, eyes glancing to the shore. “He says he’ll marry me after the war’s end.”

It is quiet for a long moment. You find nothing to say to her words.

It does not last long – after the final whispers of his name die on her tongue, she clears her throat, endeavoring to wrangle through the knots and tie back your hair. “Something troubles you, Princess.” There are more words waiting on her hesitant tongue; she does not release them.

It is a moment of gathering thought in which you decide she is far more friend than anyone else upon this rock – and that, even without her station, perhaps she’d endeavor to listen to your troubles anyways. “It was decided this evening,” You inform her in a rather formal tone, “that I am to wed Prince Jacaerys after all. Our marriage will be quite soon, and before all of the smallfolk on the Island.”

And then, an afterthought as you gaze to the peeking wander of ships headed west, “perhaps Driftmark, as well.”

Her hands slow in your hair, breath puffing upon the crown of your head. “-That is… quite wonderful news,” She agrees, though her tone bleeds through false words; she knows you all too well, it seems. “A royal wedding will bring a much welcomed recess from the times we live, my Princess.”

Her words fall hollow into the empty chasm of your wounded heart. Sardonically, you smile to your sullen reflection in the pooled bath below. A wedding… while the kingdom prepares to bleed.

Words, those buzzing pests of voices from the council not an hour past: “-And we are to assume that a royal celebration might distract the masses from the acts committed? From the war that brews?”

There’d been sharp looks shared at the news of you and Jace’s resurrected betrothal at council this afternoon; half-surprised, half-concerned glances from both your cousins across the Painted table, though you could not bring yourself to return their gazes. For Daemon’s stare, much too hot and much too amused, burning into the side of your visage; the slippery serpent he is, eyes glancing between you and Jacaerys, taking in the rigidity of your spines with a mirthful glee.

It would have been more excruciating yet had not the discussion been propped by more relevant topics to discuss, as to the efficacy of your union having any effect at all on the tides of war.

The realm watches, Lord Corlys had assured, many lords await the wind to tip the scale. Their marriage is not about turning heads.

Indeed, it is not - and such a burden even in youth, your betrothal was: A thin bridge held together by the grasp of youthful hands that did not wish to touch, an abyssal gap fractured into splintered verdant and carmine shards.

And in these more forgiving moments, when you may wish to let yourself down easy; what an inconsolably crushing weight on shoulders no older than ten and two. For all of those nights you spent lying awake upon sheets of down, wondering up at the swimming dark of the ceiling why the gods had chosen you as your mother’s branch of olives - as your father’s forgotten dove, the small creature who’d always been seen as the shadow of others.

This marriage is not about turning heads, Lord Corlys is correct. Now, it is about swaying swords.

And the thought had been floated – a fickle thing, some brush by way of wind through the chamber doors – boats, they’d said. Tidings.

“-to cause a shift. The Sea Snake’s blockade at the Gullet strangles the trade routes. King's Landing starves, yet Aegon dines easily in the Keep.”

Indeed even now, in the syrupy aftermath of the council, you must admit it is a clever move.

“Along the wedding celebrations, we send boats – as far as the Capital.” Though it’d been your own voice speaking such words, there coils such gripping guilt within you. And there’d been Queen Rhaenyra, nodding solemnly. The boats, to be laden with food - grain, salt, preserved meats; a gift from Dragonstone, tidings from a fruitful green and black union.

Their rightful Queen’s heir; a gift from him and his new wife, the Prince and Princess of Dragonstone.

In recollection, your brows furrow. “There is much more to be done than attend some wedding. It surely is not of much interest to the smallfolk in these times.” You sniff, brushing hair from your face in the swirling quiet. “Especially for the Usurper’s sister.”

The hand within your tresses pauses at your words; for a moment, only the sea breathes. “But the smallfolk love you.” She sounds nearly startled by your words, as if the sheep of thought had yet to cross her mind’s pasture.

You’d laugh, if you had the gall - the smallfolk? The smallfolk have never had the luxury to hate you, nor to love you; never truly had much power to do anything but bend beneath your heels. It is how it has always been.

In youth, a procession had spurred your urge to reach towards a commongirl who had called your name. The sun was high in the sky, and she, a girl of your age – it was then that your kinslayer brother had ripped you back into the cart with a sharp glance. They do not love you, he’d snarled; They are dogs at the foot of a table. Grateful, for scraps discarded from the hands that feast.

As it is, you are incredibly discomforted by Elina’s words, and perhaps it shows on your face – for she falls silent, instead beginning a series of braids from the crown of your head.

“The smallfolk endure us.” You murmur, “Because they have to.”

She does not much respond, and in the silence you hear the voices of the council, reverberating in the breaths from your lungs.

“In every tavern, at every hearth from here to Stoney Sept - the people will speak of your union, of your generosity. The Queen’s heir and his wife – gifting the smallfolk with life.”

Perhaps it is the most prevalent way to avoid bloodshed – noble bloodshed, that is – though it sits incorrectly in your chest. “A gracious gift – the masses will surely remember the ones who saved them from the crimes of war.”

Moondancer flies across the setting wildfire of eve, and you grow more pensive and dreadful by the minute.

“Your tea grows cold.” Elina observes with a concerned glance.

You cannot help the faint smile that befalls your visage at her concern; though you have no interest in its contents, you see her lingering stare, the interest in a pursing of lips. Steam spills from the saucer – it smells of wonderful spices from Essos.

“You have it,” you decide after only a moment, eyes fluttering shut as she finishes the braid upon your left temple.

You feel her hesitation in fingers, hear it in the surprised giggle she belies. “Oh, no, my Princess, it is for you.”

You smile at her uncertainty, keenly aware of her similarities to the golden-locked sister you left across the sea. “I insist, Elina.” You nod, gesturing to it, eyeing the tendrils of steam which rise from your heated skin. “Go, now. You must have it, it smells much too pleasant to be wasted.”

Her grin is bright when she gives in – and with a giggle that you nearly reciprocate, she lifts the teacup to her lips; a long sip, one which heats her cheeks perhaps at the action of using utensils higher than her station. Her flickering eyes and giddy cheeks are endearing – the tea is red upon her lips for only a split moment as she pulls it away.

She enjoys her cup while you leave the bath – a preparation she aids you with while still reposed by the table upon your insistence; supper has been called, and you must meet your family once more for a rather excruciating celebratory feast.

Despite your trivial woes, the evening falls in serenity; you, Elina by your side, sipping gently on tea and whispering about the beasts in the sky.

YOUR GAZE FINDS HIM BEFORE HE IS EVEN AWARE.

Jacaerys, with a templed posture down the flickering hall, a soft clinking of fine leather and metal. A set jaw, one that turns in his sweep – and then eyes of amber find yours. There is a light within them you can still yet see, like feathery papered wings, drawn to your own flickering flame.

A less hurried stride – though no less purposeful than your own – Jace slows his pace when your eyes lock, far enough that his tousled curls blur around the edge of your vision.

Beneath the sleeves of your mahogany gown, your fingers pluck at skin; you still your own pace, swallowing under the weight of silence heavy around you.

There’s a brief moment of recognition, some momentary breath from both parties – and yet after a glance from both pairs of skittish eyes, the hall is deemed empty of lingering stares.

And quite rapidly, the distance between you and your betrothed shortens.

It is bizarre, your pull – and yet you stop only a step away, closer than you’ve been since the Painted Table this afternoon in such heated fervor.

A twitch in his hands, a shift of his weight – he is rather awkward now, and you bite your lip as you both hover in the middle of the stoned floor. Your hands ache to feel his heat, though you linger in your yearning, waiting with baited breath and heated cheeks.

Your name, syrupy and unsure, is the only thing to fall from his lips.

The Prince’s eyes flicker between your own, head declined just enough to stare straight into your own gaze. You’re arrested only momentarily before you snap back to the present, clearing your throat – a rush of heat through you at the soft turn of his gaze, the downturn of his brows that more than likely mirrors your own expression.

There is so much to say.

“Hello.” You select dumbly; though it is received with a small flicker of amusement, some repressed grin that yields a soft turn of dimple in his grin.

“Hello,” He echoes, and it is too much at once – his soft echo of your own awkwardness, the huff of amusement you share. Your face turns hot under the memories of activities held in common between you just hours ago, at the stupidity of your hushed tones, the odd giddiness as if between childhood lovers finally permised to embrace: But that is, as ever it could have been, not the case.

And then, in the groaning whispers of falling nighttime, in the empty hallway, you and your betrothed reach an understanding.

Dark eyes turn upon yours and you sway just so upon your feet, unsure if speaking would worsen this feeling that dances on the tip of your tongue.

And when he is quiet, when he is just as unsure of what to do as you are, he is so very handsome.

A curved jaw, the turned slope of grace he shares with his mother; and a fire within his gaze that sets you warm. Are you truly of the opinion that my actions are driven by nothing more than desire?

Your lips press tight as you cast your glance away, the chiding ramble of your mother in your mind: Rather hypocritical. You sin.

Your inhale is sharp; the amber that flickers over your face, a look twisted in pity – you clench your teeth, clearing your throat. “Jace.” You perhaps plan on guiding your foolish jolts towards conversation in a certain fashion; though his brows lift, a flash of concern through his stare.

His lips, glossy upon the light of torches, press together in some twistedly alluring mix between a smile and a frown.

A hand finds yours; palm warm, soft against your own, and it sends your mind reeling; so delicate a touch. Your brows lift only slightly, fingers lacing with his own after your eyes flick over his tailored shoulder warily.

“Are you…” He does not continue for a brief moment, instead urging closer with half-step — your spine straightens, swept in the woody scent of the forested Dragonmont that accompanies his presence, towered by his imposed height, charmed by the searching warmth in his eyes. “-are you alright?”

He finishes his canvassing in a bent whisper, with knitted brows and pouted lips. After all, it is an odd question — one you’re unsure how to answer; and it lingers, heavier than perhaps it was proposed. Yet Jacaerys waits patiently, teeth worried within the cushion of his bottom lip.

The sting of embarrassment — of a hawkish stare from the rogue prince, the shame, the stupidity of limbs tangled in the dusty light of day — a spoil of some war of bodies upon a table, of fingers knotted in desperation.

And your answer comes easy as ever in a nod and a forced, falsified fable, a lie so often told through your teeth. “I’m fine,” You murmur, “Are you?”

Perhaps it is this moment it hits the prince before you; with a gaze that trickles in a slow leak to the floor separating your pointe shoes from his own boots, he hesitates.

“…I’m not sure.”

It’s a vulnerability; a gaping wound, putrid flesh forgotten in the sun, that festers with each passing day — I don’t know, you agree — I don’t know, but I am scared.

It has never done well to reopen a wound not yet healed.

Your thumb runs over roughened knuckles, his fingers twitching within your grasp, jolting at your very faint touch, though you pretend not to notice.

He seems to find words to fill the absence of sound in the halls. “It’s been some time, but I… tried speaking to them.” His eyes flick away as red lips press together. Your stare must be a breath too blank, for he continues, “–The gods,” He elaborates; your brows raise at his candor. “I suppose for some guidance.” He decides.

His words find you with surprise; not particularly due to what he says but rather for the sheepish way in which he delivers the information, as if unsure how you’ll react. He searches for something, you realize; perhaps the same very thing absent in your own heart.

His eyes are wide, specks deep through a ring of ambered honey – though some twisted thing, that same seed that unfurled and sprouted within your older brother; that envy – it blossoms in your chest, unruly and vicious.

“The gods don’t listen,” you retort swiftly, a sardonic grin flickering miserably across your smile.

His head tilts slightly, eyes narrowing in faint surprise; it’s only now that you register your previous words, a slithering lick of shame curling up your spine.

“No?” Jacaerys wonders – a flicker of surprise that you are not foolish enough to believe is any semblance of disagreement; rather Jace’s preconceived notion that you ring true still among the devout.

Your cheeks are warm, and his eyes are low upon your face. Does he see your mother staring back at him?

A clearing of your throat as you nod, “Not to me, at least,” the edge of your voice is mercifully smoothed by something almost playful; your fingers shift within his grasp, brushing over the calluses on his knuckles. “Perhaps you’ll have better luck, my Prince.” You smile – and though he delivers a less than skeptical look, you’re thankful for his restraint.

And of course, the very dimple of his you so admire blossoms upon his smile when he looks down in the scarce light. “Let us hope then, Princess.”

And despite yourself, a jump within your stomach at his tone, a skip in your heart. Some giddiness, perhaps in reaction to the dread which surrounds the castle, leaks through your chest.

As though deciding within his mind, he looks back to you, clearing his throat. “I know that– that we’ve not had much time to ourselves,” He starts, “Though I’d hoped we could–”

But as his mouth opens once more, footsteps: A sharp laugh muffled only by the separation of stone walls; and then your cousins round the corner, their smiles bright.

Perhaps through some instance of habit, your hands drop each other immediately – you, pulling back and Jacaerys taking a half-stagger towards the wall at the startle as if mere children caught stealing bread from a feast table – both of you glancing down the hall with burning visages.

A weak breath from your lips as you clear your throat uncomfortably, nodding to them as they wave down the tunneled hall.

But Jacaerys’s invitation, half-swallowed by the ignominy of unexpected company, still draws necessity from your gut. “We should, Jacaerys,” you agree with a murmur, sending him a small nod as you turn to him once more.

He need not elaborate; you know well enough he wishes to speak in private. “Perhaps on the morrow?” You suggest, fighting the tension of strained courteousness.

A press of his lips in a concealed, tight-lipped smile brings forth a dimple to the curve of his cheek; a flutter at the sight as he casts his gaze down once more, awaiting your approaching cousins as their conversation tampers to greet you.

DINNER AWARDS NO REST OF TENSION FOR YOU AND JACAERYS.

The hall’s table is set in a long stretch; The scrape of dishes against forks, the crackle of the hearth – you drown in it, not well used to such calm manners of gathering; more oft than not since you arrived upon the island have the feasts with the crowned family ended in sharp tongues and bitter stares. Such instances are, momentarily, absent from the dinner tonight.

Candles drip tallow slowly from their silvered limbs across the walls, backlit and outshined by the bright licks of peat flames – and you, sewn together by the numb acceptance of change, resign quietly in your chair to be gawked at in some form as plans are proposed, rather casually, for the location of your upcoming union to Jacaerys.

At the head Queen Rhaenyra sits – and with a fold of her hands, nods towards a proposed setting. “Perhaps we hold the ceremony here on Dragonstone," she suggests, “Once more, a Targaryen marriage on Targaryen soil.”

It is a thought you’d given little attention – spare for this afternoon as Elina had sipped upon your tea and you’d laid your eyes to watch the free churn of silvery purple wings against the sun in the distance.

And a voice from aside Queen Rhaenyra, slumped in the frame of his chair. “I might remind you that the sept here isn’t exactly grand. It gathers dust with each day.”

The mention of the Sept bristles you; There is a rippling agreement through the table, though with a spare glance to your side, you find Jacaerys fixated upon the vegetables before him, eyes far-off and consumed. Rhaenys carries the same bemused practicality as you’ve always known within her as she begrudgingly agrees with your uncle. “Nor has it seen a ceremony in years. It could hardly hold enough folk for our intentions.”

And the thought of the sept – its cold, hardly adorned walls which whisper in echo to your own quiet prayers; a place uninhabited by any besides the Septas and your own festering thoughts.

The goblet in your hand is gilded with curves of thorned flowers along the base of the cup, your visage corrupted and warped in the golden reflection. You can only stare back at your warped countenance in hopes the conversation will soon end.

It is your cousin’s voice from across the way which gains your attention next, as the contents of your cup slip into your stomach. “It may gather dust,” Rhaena agrees rather gently, casting a quick glance at you, “But it’s hardly abandoned.”

And if the many pairs of eyes were not already upon you, they find you then; Lord Corlys, sitting at the far end of the table, hums.

“There is but one person who keeps that sept from falling entirely to ruin.” His eyes land on you not unkindly – and perhaps in desperation, you find some kind of warmth in his words, as if to acknowledge a quiet dedication he perhaps admires, or simply acknowledges. Your cheeks burn in the shadow of the woman left across the sea, who sits dowager and whispers prayers into the wind of your dreams.

Though in turn of their intentions of setting you at ease, the thought sends a new wave of guilt swirling through you, well-aware of the true purpose of visiting the sept so habitually.

A faint smile curves on Baela’s lips, and she leans forward. “Perhaps it would be appropriate, then? Breathe new life into it, make it…” Though it seems any hope leaves as she trails off, aware of the tepid spirit that surrounds the wedding, of the uncomfortable breaths that fall in tandem from your lips and Jacaerys’.

“...Sacred again, in a way.”

The thought is wholly unpleasant to you; perhaps in your mother’s stern voice in the back of your mind, whispering sharp daggers of criminality into your veins.

Daemon chuckles softly, a sardonic smile tugging at his mouth as he glances at Rhaenyra. “Forgive me, but the future king and queen marrying in a sept nearly swallowed by time is hardly a fitting legacy.” His gaze flickers to you, as though assessing how you might take such a slight; you level him with a stare mirrored in equivocation. The king consort lifts a shoulder. “We’d hardly want it to feel like a funeral.”

A needle carefully placed to sew a new line, red and thin. He aims for the eyes with his sharp point; some stirring amusement within his stare that causes your stubborn proclivities to roar, but you know better than to let temptation unravel you. People much worse than him have tried.

We’d hardly want it to feel like a funeral.

“If it were more frequented, perhaps it wouldn’t feel as such.” You choose instead of the lash of tongue you reign in; the words are sharp and whipped relentlessly – a vision of your mother in green, spilling her words from your tongue as easy as letting a breath into your lungs.

The table falls quiet at this, and in a cold wash of shame, your eyes fall back to the table.

Around you, wary eyes flicker; in a sickness bouting through your stomach, a youthful Jacaerys’ words follow your echoes: It’s like she opens her mouth and her mother speaks through it.

It is a moment in which shame floods the features of your face; and you, awkward as a newborn doe, swallow back your pride.

The room is quiet, but through your embarrassment you register a sudden pressure against your leg; A warm surprise of pressure against your calf.

It is, in a moment of breath, merely a boot sliding against your gown and pressing against your leg under the table. A gesture of reassurance. It is your nature when your gaze flicks momentarily to the prince sat beside you – his jaw remains terse but his gaze has grown quite warm when he returns your glance.

A small nudge from him in the quiet moment; and with a swallow of affinity, you nudge Jacaerys back. His lips twitch just so; you pretend not to notice.

It is only a breath of a moment after that you realign your face into a more serene expression – and with that, you feel a tinge of pride, breathing through the ravaging sea of spite that crashes against the cliffs of your heart. The blood of a Hightower is thick in ambition, you’d once heard Lord Corlys say; perhaps, he is correct.

The smile upon your face might be plastered, but it is radiant.

“Apologies. Though I appreciate the dramatics as always, Daemon,” You address the man with a thinly veiled tone of respect, “Perhaps we should find somewhere… more large. Alive. To gather a larger crowd of folk.”

It is the smallest of gestures — a soft victory within some inlaid battle of words — but you sense Daemon, for all his sarcasm and derision, recognizes it as such. His mouth curves slightly, but the tilt of his eyes does not soften, nor does the rest of Jacaerys’ foot against your own slide away.

There is a brief silence at the table as the meal is served; roast lamb, stew with wild rice, fish – and a few more cups of wine for you and your intended both – in which Daemon proposes a toast.

“To the realm’s future,” He lifts his cup; the others follow suit, as you lift yours with a stare burnt into the man’s jaw. “And to the union of our future King and Queen. May you have a long, happy marriage.”

The words from his lips have scarcely fallen before you see the tense ridge of Jacaerys’ spine, one which straightens your own in a rise of hackles. It is a harmful thing, really – and with a practiced grace, you and Jacaerys both receive the toast with smiles and kind words.

And it would be a lack of verity if you said you did not feel a growth of warmth through you when Jacaerys turns his cup to you, sharing a small glance and smaller grin.

It is a private thing, a quiet moment: A hand, reaching across a tumultuous river. You grasp it back with a clink of your goblet to his own.

The dinner rolls on; the sun is well past its set into the horizon, and even with the light of candles brings you a breath from the oppression of daylight. The food is hearty, enjoyable – it is unlike the many times you’d sat at this very table, surrounded by eyes which saw you a serpent.

And the poison which drips from certain cups this evening is not that of distrust; nor those of old wounds well festered and sored: No, they are instead some foolish urge to prod a slumbering beast, to dangle a fool by his ankle atop a spire and laugh.

In a shimmering glance away from your warped reflection in the boat of gravy before you, a voice brings you to the surface. “I’d assume it would,” Daemon agrees half-heartedly to some forgotten sentence from his daughter; he sits forward, “Though there is much to plan for beyond merely the smallfolk. We must gather arms from the Houses, as the Prince reminded us at council earlier.”

At the mere mention of his title, a stiffness grows once more in Jacaerys’s gaze, though he tamps it down with a measured exhale; a rather thin line to thread now, as you stir your tea and watch its tendrils of steam crawl from its cup.

“All is merry to plan a wedding. Though perhaps some of us will find some plans to put our passion to good use beyond the Painted Table.” a glance to you and Jacaerys both, his eyes mirthful, “Yes?”

A moment too late you register your own irritation; the gall of your uncle to believe he has any right to dangle such foolish deeds over your heads – as if he himself is any vision of the Father.

The thread has been pulled; Jacaerys unravels shortly.

“–If you have something to say, Daemon,” Jace’s voice is controlled in that threadbare way it can be, and his jaw is clenched sharp enough to reflect the light of the hearth behind you. “–then speak plainly,” His voice is low and volatile, “We all tire of your riddles.”

In a rush of shock – or perhaps worry, should Daemon take Jacaerys’s challenge in its face-value, your hand flies to the side.

You find yourself grasping Jace’s forearm below the table, a warning or comfort - Perhaps something in between.

His hand flexes just beneath your grasp, though he does not shake it off.

Murmurs and clink of silver slow around the table; your eyes meet the Queen’s, and with a helpless blink, you look away. In the wake of Jacaerys’ hiss, Daemon’s brows lift, eyes flickering deviously between you and Jacaerys. “Dare I?” He wonders, the sparred bounce of gazes at the table alarming you. “I merely remind us all, there are matters to consider besides the wedding. After all, some bonds are forged long before vows are spoken–”

“-Enough.” You snap; it is a sharp whistle of wind over a peak, though it does enough to quell the tension that courses through your betrothed’s muscles.

“Right,” A voice deep from down the table, and Lord Corlys shifts upon his seat, “There are more pressing matters at hand than whatever game you’re playing.”

Daemon chuckles under his breath, lifting his goblet again in mock surrender towards you, murmuring into the rim, “Pressing matters indeed.”

Your blood boils; but in lieu of any burst of emotion, Jacaerys simply turns to you with a gaze more molten than honey atop a boilpot; an exasperated glance, one of disbelief and a vague sense of panic.

You respond with a subtle, helpless shake of your head – an acknowledgement of your shared misery, one that nobody else in the room is keen to. And then in some exasperated moment, a flicker of amusement in his stare, shared only with you. You share it in return.

An odd thing, to keep close the simmering truth, a thing so wrong and iniquitous. Jacaerys takes your hand and squeezes it gently under the stone table before dropping it to reach for his cup.

And though the conversation around you carries on rather rocky, you bathe in the silence for the remainder of the dinner.

JACAERYS ACCOMPANIES YOU AFTER THE FEAST.

Though not explicit, you see the glint in Rhaenyra’s eye when he offers his arm to you – and it is not until you’ve rounded the corridor away from the stone drum do you and Jacaerys drop the masks woven onto your visages, the tense square of shoulders – and your hand uncurls from the crook of his elbow as a cat would wake from slumber.

A memory from a time so recent, though it feels ages ago – Jace and you, walking quietly towards your chambers; though tonight, you have warm cheeks from wine and not from the remnants of his lips.

It is not until you approach your doors, with your swordsman posted outside, that you slow to murmur, away from wandering ears.

Your hand stops at the crook of Jace’s elbow, coaxing him a step closer as you sigh. “Daemon is…a vexing character.” You put it rather lightly, some form of apology or complaint lodged within your throat. “I often wonder if he lurks in corners merely in hopes of stumbling into matters that are not his,” You attempt a joke – though your heart thumps oddly at the word matters, and you ignore it steadfastly.

Jacaerys huffs, clearly just as thorned as you are by the entire evening, though a direct tick of his lips lets a breath pass before his murmur. “Like flies to shit, that one.”

His bluntness chips away at the emotions swirling within you; and a surprised laugh escapes your lips, bubbling into something warm.

Laughter pools from you before you can stop yourself.

Jacaerys, perhaps startled by your reaction, looks to you; at the sound his own face lights up – a genuine, bright smile. A smile which softens his features, which gives way to those boyish looks that are so often concealed beneath princely decorum and furrowed brows.

And in a soft mix of laughter, Jacaerys’ chuckles murmurs as unfeigned as your own giggles – in the fading of the harmony, your eyes catch the sight of the guard at your door; his eyes flick away, and you swallow back the heat rising in your chest.

There is a mountain of words unspoken between you and Jacaerys. Though it is a late hour, and there are many things to be done in the morrow; so Jacaerys, with a hesitant touch, takes your palm into his grasp swiftly, eyes glancing to the stone beneath your feet.

A thumb brushes over your knuckles – and then he bends, his lips ghosting over the back of your hand; an earnest gesture, perhaps, as it heats your face more so than the wine did at dinner.

Your hand falls to clutch your skirts when he steps away, amber pools of honey taking in your own gaze, searching perhaps uncertainly for your response. You smile in a poorly concealed heat of awkwardness, clearing your throat as if that might ease the moment.

“Sleep-” He clears his own throat, “Sleep well, Princess.”

You nod as he turns, watching the glint upon his glossy tresses in the torchlight. It is only as he’s taken a step away that you respond, calling to the rich slope of his shoulders. “–You too, Prince Jacaerys.”

THE PRESENCE OF YOUR DREAM IS IMMEDIATE.

The wind is sharp in the lick of shadows; and you know you’re not in the realm of the living, no – you’re melded to the ground upon which you stand, stranded in a field of bones. A figure stands just ahead – a girl with pale hair that drips over a gown of gold; your sister turns to you.

Helaena’s eyes, painted in a flickering violet stare as you stagger; paled lips crack open, though no sound escapes - only the flutter of wings, delicate, fragile, frantic.

A butterfly, circling above her head.

A deep unsettle leaks into your subconscious as the sky above, an inky chasm, shifts just so – and the butterfly flutters; climbing frantically upwards, yet looms above a monstrous, scaled form that growls with ancient breath. You cannot seem to warn the butterfly of the impending jaws above, and it strikes fear through your quivering breast.

It is not until you’ve pulled your legs from the gnarled roots of ricages and spines which litter the ground that you reach Helaena; her eyes, slipped as dying stars anchored on a bright heat that rumbles in breaths high above.

Wings turn to ash above you; they find your inhale, seeping into your lungs in one quick gasp. The butterfly is gone – its papery embers burning away into your blood.

Hands, cold and spectral, shove you back into the darkness; you fall upon bones which crack in whispers of your name below your weight, and Helaena steps forward, her lips still moving in whispers you cannot hear.

Her hands hold a chipped teapot; an old one, with etchings of flowers and dainty ladies washing against a peaceful brook.

It is cracked, though. And with her absent stare, you watch in horror as out crawl spiders from the teapot’s fissures – into her palms, skittering down her arms, crawling up her neck.

Your scream is silenced by an echoing crack of ancient stone; a tower in the distance, cracking in half as a shadow falls from high above where it kisses the clouds, a thunderous plume in the wake of its descent. The ancient breaths from above grow hot with unrest as ashy wings of butterflies fall to bless the decaying ground around you.

“The girl,” Helaena mouths, her voice swallowed by the rising wind. There is a searing pain in your eye - the glint of a knife, a breath forever held by the crashing of some distantly cold waters. “The girl.”

You wake with a gasp, tangled in your sheets, the remnants of the warning still burning in your ears.

The girl.

A jolt to the living realm brings a trickle of clammy sweat down your chest; the hearth across the way is surprisingly stoked and well alive.

And then, a strangled noise – a groaning mewl, some doe struck by a hunter’s bow, awaiting the mercy of a quick knife.

The edge of the room stirs with movement and you’re jolted with shock – you blink sleep from your eyes with the gust of wind upon dust-blown streets, sitting up with a thickening pulse. You leap out of your skin when your vision adjusts to the light of the hearth in the room, a gasp flying from your lips in fear.

At the foot of your bed, a spectre of a girl – hair loose, her skin ashy in the moon’s whisper; a gasp from a mouth much too crimson as she sways upon uneven footing.

“Elina?” You croak, heart within your throat – but that gasp, again; and she is doubled over, breathing in sharp gasps. Unease awaits you in the cavern of your chest.

“What’s happened?” You ask quickly, rising from the sheets with a shaky fear.

There is no response: but the girl stumbles forward, her throat beginning to pulse unnaturally – you leap to your feet, wider awake than ever before.

“P-princess,” she chokes out, her body trembles - fingers fall against the post of your bed frame, her voice weaker still than her hallowed visage. “I– didn’t–” but her breath is not correct; it heaves out laborious, sickly.

Her eyes meet yours, and your heart sinks below your stomach; a drop of crimson rolls from her nostril, and then a cough full of wet blood that sputters into her palm, darker than you’ve ever seen.

“S-something’s wrong.” her voice, desperate. Bare feet slap against stone as your hand grasps her arm; skin yields clammy. Panic pulses through you – her lips are a frosting purple, marred only by stretch of bloody string which pulsates from her nose and has begun to drip its way upon her dress.

Your chamber doors are heavy, though you rip them open and spit into the hallway, shaking as the dredges of murky sleep are wiped away by alarm.

Your shout is sharp as a dying hound, “Fetch Maester Gerardys!” You tremble as you nod to the guard, “Now! And alert the Queen– tell,” You look down the hall, unsure what to do, breathing ragged and sporadic, “Tell Jacaerys, tell–”

A yelp, startled as a kicked kitten from behind you and you can only stop yourself, snapping back to your maid’s side, letting your chamber doors remain open as the guards rush down the corridors.

Elina’s frame collapses as you reach her; you fall to your mattress, pulling her into your arms with shaking breaths – and she, with weak effort, presses her hand into your own.

There is no such moment for you to do anything but sit; and so you do, a sense of numb calm washing over you as you coo to her, wiping hair away from a sheened forehead. Her head lolls heavy against your shoulder, tears soaking the sleeve of your nightgown – veins protrude, purple and ghastly, from her eyes and forehead, spreading down her chin under a trail of blood. Any offer of water is slapped across the stone floors of your bedchamber.

“I’m scared,” she whispers, her voice trembling as she curls closer to you, her breath coming in shallow, pained gasps. “It hurts.”

Your throat tightens – her eyes are wide, terrified; a gasp of striking resemblance to that haunting stare from your dreams.

You can only hold her tighter, cradling her head against your chest as if you could shield her from whatever is eating away at her from the inside; though she has begun a series of horrifying convulsions, and you scramble to remember any such prayer for the sick in the recess of your cobwebbed mind.

“I can’t… I can’t remember-” You mutter helplessly, fingers shaking as you stroke her hair, whispering useless comforts as her body shakes against you.

Her hands are tight; wrapped in a clutched embrace, her muscles spasm and kick, marring you with short bursts of pain as you hold onto her, your own tears falling onto her face as a violent foam of bloody saliva begins to brim through her paled lips.

“No-” You hiss, palm cupping her cheeks – but the blood spreads, it taints; eyes have rolled back, her body convulsing as blood pours in a leak from her nose, drips of crimson tears from the corners of vacantly yellowed eyes. Trails of it foam over your grasp from her mouth – choking, she’s begun, and you’re helpless to watch, your breaths eerily calm in the wake of her gasping gurgles.

Maester Gerardys enters first; followed closely by three pairs of feet slamming against stone, but still you rock gently, a horror encasing your mind as you stare at the girl, stilled in your arms.

Your lips are still mumbling, though your chest burns in the need of breath that will not come; the small bird of a girl in your arms, her blood staining your pillows, her heart stilled after a rapid acceleration and a heaving rattle of breath through blood-stained teeth.

You do not let go of her when Maester Gerardys arrives to your side; with a wail and a panicked grasp, you shoot daggers towards the man with a snarl; a cornered hound.

Your name rolls gently from hesitant lips, though, and it arrests your panic.

Jacaerys is just beside you – clad in a sleeping tunic and trousers, cheeks flushed, eyes wide in concern. Your grip loosens around Elina at Jace’s whisper; And when you back away, his arm is around your waist, pulling you away gently.

Queen Rhaenyra, hand over her breast as she watches; and Daemon, eyes dark as he stares from the girl upon your bed to the blood that stains your hands. In the light of the hearth, Jacaerys lights the few candles beside the bed, and you watch with a hitched breath broken only by the sound of your quiet sobs.

Maester Gerardys pulls back from her figure, his voice laced with a gentle, perturbed sorrow. “She’s with the Gods.”

Time escapes you.

Your fingers shake in the fabric of Jacaerys’s tunic as he holds you steady, easing you onto the settee across from the hearth; he remains as Daemon and the Queen repose in succession.

And when Rhaenyra’s palm finds the stillness of your knee, as your stare smolders into the roar of flames before you, Daemon’s voice is shockingly gentle, quiet. “What happened?” He asks – and you stir only then from your halted fear, glancing to where Maester Gerardys and the guards gather the body from your sheets.

Your lashes flicker, and though the press of Jacaerys’ thigh upon your own is warm, you cannot look away from Elina’s stained blonde hair, tresses marred by a thick paint of blackened blood as it sways in the arms of the guard passing by.

The girl, you hear your sister’s voice whisper. You swallow thickly, shaking your head faintly.

“I…” You croak, shaking your head, “She… woke me. Elina. She’d helped me prepare before I went abed – she acted rather normal, though she’d mentioned a stomachache…” Your brows furrow as a distant memory strikes you. “Her pupils were the size of saucers.”

They had been, truly. Pupils blown wide, her lips slick with saliva she wiped with a sleeve – and a whisper, once more as she undid the hair she’d braided into place just hours before – we’ve kept the chambers quite sweltering this evening, haven’t we, My Princess?

“Did she act any differently?”

Your mind stumbles in its tirade down a dark staircase of trivial moments through the day; And then, some horrifying thought that pierces your stomach, paranoia rippling through you.

“Tea.” You murmur, shaking your head, “The tea you gifted me, that’s all,” You murmur, eyeing Queen Rhaenyra. A blank visage flickers in the lick of flame beside her, though her countenance furrows in unfamiliarity.

A slight shake of the head, a bewildered breath from her breast – she need not say it; the tea that was served was not from her. Three pairs of eyes watch you, though in your panic, you jolt upright, only aware of the sleepgown you wear once Queen Rhaenyra places a blanket upon your shoulders.

“-I was served a new tea this afternoon,” You glance at the table in the corner of your chambers, where the odd girl had prepared it. “I- I was told it was a gift, from the Queen–” in a sickening memory, you exhale, “she drank it this afternoon. Elina. It was prepared by a new handmaid who said she’d come from the kitchens, though I swear I’d–”

And it is as if the storm breaks.

In a flash of a moment, memories flood through you in a pounding horror; the girl with her wrist scarred, flickering eyes behind doors of the Hand of the King.

A sea away, and moons ago yet – a green gaze that ducked away when you and your siblings haunted the halls of the Red Keep, and young, dutiful ears which listened to each word uttered by you and your kin.

“She was there. The Red Keep.” You utter, eyes burning a hole through the stone table, mouth open. The shoulder that brushes your own tenses; a shared glance between the three that you nearly miss in your dissociation.

Daemon is upon his feet within moments, voice barking at the men who crowd the room – an order of the kitchens to be torn apart in search of a tea, red and spiced; and to find the girl with the scar on her wrist.

THE MORNING COMES.

It always does; despite it all, the morning comes – and this time, it kisses your shoulders with a chill, seeping into bones weary and plastered heavy to foreign sheets.

Not foreign, particularly – for you know the softness upon you as though a touch of a familiar palm, the quirk of a familiar boyish grin. And you wake slowly, eyes heavy enough to keep you asleep, but you wake smelling of him.

You are not sure what weakened part of you reaches out – to find him, in the chasm of darkness that returns as you do to consciousness; but your hand drifts over the empty space where he should be, only to find a soft crumple of parchment left in his place.

Before your eyes open, you already know.

His absence does not surprise you, nor does the cold weight of realization that settles upon your chest.

The girl. A poisoned cup; the last shuddering rattle of breath from a sweet friend. Dreams of the sister you left, of a thick thread that wound your wrists and tethered you to hands that wanted nothing; a murder of an innocent because of…

Your eyes are weary, and they burn.

Jacaerys brought you to his chambers last night when your shaking slowed; after Maester Gerardys checked upon your tongue, tracked the flickering motions of your eyes, heard the beats of your heart. Jacaerys had not followed Daemon out the doorway upon some warpath once the whisper of poison fell from Maester Gerardys’ lips – he’d remained instead with a hand hovering over yours, his eyes upon his mother, who had taken you into her side as a mother would a hurt child.

You recall, as you stir under his sheets, how you’d heard his heart beat beneath your ear last night - too steady, too forced.

The rhythm, a caged fury for the sake of a girl who’d barely looked at him without baring her teeth; a buzzing regret for the unripened detestation harvested towards her over fields of youth past. Guilt can be a fickle thing.

And it is indeed a frequent visitor at the doors of your mind; it slides in through the cracks when you sit up in bed, head pounding, aching for sustenance though the thought of food leaves your stomach hollowed in fear.

The note is unfolded slowly; Jacaerys’ hand is scribed with no lack of care, though they are quick, speaking of duty and matters with Daemon.

Though he says nothing explicitly, you know. The handmaid who prepared your tea yesterday - they search for her, or worse, they have already found her; and what is left now is that cold calculation of the Father: of justice.

With a shiver, your fingers twitch to your sternum - some odd remainder of a habit formed in youth, watching your mother clutch her seven-pointed-star round her neck in times of strife. You come empty-clutched instead - a seven-pointed chain that’d been casted into the ocean along with the ring your mother gifted you for your nameday many moons ago, now.

Jace’s request sends a strike of warmth through you as you blearily read the scrawled words to send Ser Steffon to fetch Jacaerys when you wake.

Maester Gerardys, too, is mentioned, and the thought of him fussing over your health makes your chest tighten; there is no such relief in the notion being tended to, not now – not when your heart crawls up your throat; a creeping spider up the spout of a teapot, a coil of serpent wrapping around your neck.

Blood still clings to the gown you’d held Elina in, as it sits rumpled and untouched upon the floor of Jacaerys’ chambers – you wear a simpler one now, retrieved from your boudoir by the hands of your betrothed.

You leave the mound of furs and sheets behind in a slow slide towards the window upon Jacaerys’ far chamber wall.

The fog still clings stubbornly to the sea, curling like a serpent over the rocks, refusing to retreat beneath the morning light.

It is not the attempt on your life – that itself has yet to soak through the surface of your ever-porous skin – but rather the absence of the voice which rouses you from slumber each morning, who combs and styles your hair; who bathes you, who laughs with you, who whispers. She is gone.

Along the distance, the fog eats at the fishing villages; mere dots, no larger than gnats even when you squint. You wonder where Elina’s love lies, and if he woke with the same emptiness in his heart that you did.

Below Jacaerys’ window lies a glance at the Sept of Dragonstone; a pierce in your chest that calls upon the emptiness of your heart.

You do not heed your betrothed’s wish to seek him when you wake; instead, you pull round the cloak draped along the table beside you, tying it doubly to account for its larger size; and you slip past Ser Steffon, who watches and trails behind you at a measured pace.

IN SOME LINGERING SHAME, YOU’RE KNELT BEFORE THE GODS BEFORE DAY FULLY BREAKS.

It is not until you step out into the bailey, wrapped in a cloak that is not your own, does the sky split and begin to weep. It laments its sorrow upon the walls as you blink hard ahead, hoping to cease the endless churning of torment spiraling in your mind.

When you find yourself within the dry stone walls once more, the cloak remains upon your frame – a comfort, in its lingering scent; or a repentance, in its damp chill upon your shoulders.

The gods watch as you kneel in silence; the storm blossoms, cackling at some ancient jest in the sky, and you keel over in your grief, sinking to the soil buried far below the stone.

The Maiden’s face watches you – and in her, you see Elina; in that sweet laugh, the ceaseless effort to remain your handmaid, your friend – despite it all. And the reward she was given for such trust, such loyalty: To die on a mattress of the one she served, one final breath sacrificed for the truth:

It hurts. I’m scared.

“Elina,” You whisper with watery words, watching the candle before you light in flame. Your throat constricts. That sacred little lamb, taken upon the altar of your very own mattress.

Innocence, a token offered to gods who never answer – and, mutedly, you wonder. That death was sent for you, after all – so how would you look, eyes wide and unaware of the sharpness of a blade descending towards you?

Across the hall, someone slinks through the shadows. Smoke swirls. A candle is lit with shaky hands.

And there is the blue lamb, too, you think - the one I could not save either. Fingers shaking, pressing the flame against the wyck beside it; it catches with only an extra breath.

“Lucerys,” You whisper, watching the candle flicker.

And nothing changes.

The rain falls outside. The pit lingers within your stomach.There is a scuff – perhaps a Septa, crossing somewhere behind you. A heavy door drags open from the Bailey outside, and in a breeze of the world’s breath, someone enters.

You duck your chin in prayer, that way you did in childhood under the watchful gaze of your seven-pointed mother.

Today, you worry.

Like some favored cup that you’d grasped too tight, afraid it would fall from your clutches and break into thousands of shards – and how instead you’d watch it shatter in your protective, ignorant grasp. Red rivers of disbelief from a trembling palm; pain, that naive version of love.

Father - you look upon his statue, disbelief in your heart. I worry that love is merely a mirror of violence.

That pathetic something – that yearning, an empty chasm that blossomed even in the days of your youth – with cheeks still cherubic and eyes still bright; five children, white of hair; youthful play, ruddy cheeks, fattened legs. Giggles and breathless yells from behind curtains – from a time when whispers were nothing more than a playgame.

The Crone remembers – and you wonder, then, as you look upon stone shrouded in a cloak. What has become of them, now? Of any of you?

And who are you, but the sister who fled? Who are you, but the one who haunts the halls of the Black Queen, with blood of emerald and a dragon that could turn on them in a moment’s notice?

Fingers grasp the stone before you, and white wax drips in slow tears. Crone – you gaze into eyes carved in sorrow, of sagacity unreachable. I worry that wisdom comes only when it is too late.

In your youth, you’d been gifted a plant in an achingly beautiful painted Braavosi pot; the joy of your nameday, you’d insisted upon tending to it. It’d been hours – each day, admiring its pebbled leaves, bursting with budding fruit from within. Hours curbing away the prying, destructive hands of your elder brothers and cousins, of sitting in awed silence watching the leaves change in the sunlight with your sister.

And then came the day you’d woken to its dead leaves. In your devotion, obsession, you’d given it too much water. Mother – you look upon her statue, disbelief sewn far into the creasings of your heart. I worry that my care only brings ruin.

The face of mercy watches you, and it brings nothing but a tremble of hatred through you.

A flash of your own resentment – and of the tarnished beauty which once beheld your own visage, marred by the presence of you upon his side. Despite efforts taken by others to ensure otherwise, you will still remain forever haunted; forever wondering how you could dare stand with Jacaerys when you so taint the memory of his lost brother.

It is a horrible thing, the chain of fate.

A fate written long before you two were placed into cradles as babes, far before you two were given each other’s name as a promise, then as a threat, then as a promise once more. Smith – your heart aches, and it aches for what is to come. I worry that I cannot shape what I wish to mend.

It is the most difficult perhaps, to regard the young woman etched in stone to your left.

In her face is each that you’ve ever come to know. Baela, the first and best of your friends upon this island; Rhaena, the girl whose company you seek with the knowledge that she will regard you as kin, not adversary.

The humming of your sweet sister in her chambers; in quiet harmony with the buzzing of insects, needles pricking her fingers and singing softly to the blood that beads from her flesh. You’re nothing like Helaena, your mother said. And what tragedy, you think as you consider the draped innocence of the Maiden aside you, what a regret that is.

And your mother, for all that she isn’t – for all that she is. For the girl she lost in her youth; for the distaste, perhaps, in the aspects of you that much too echo the girl she once called friend – through some the absent admiration of a father who held you close, who whispered Rhaenyra instead of your own name when he spoke of his love and admiration.

That name, too – still after these years a stinging sore of regret, jealousy; Rhaenyra, the name you cannot help but reach toward, hand forever extended into emptiness. Rhaenyra, the one you’d picture when you watched yourself in the mirror as a girl, tilting your chin as if there were already a crown upon your head.

Rhaenyra – you’re just like Rhaenyra, your father would whisper, proud; and it is, indeed, why your mother watched you with serpent stares, why your family turned chin upon you each time you dared speak her name in years after.

Perhaps there is no particular malice in the end.

You are no fool to believe that Rhaenyra resents you for what has been done by the hands of your blood; but knowing you are bidden forgiveness is not the same as accepting it. And in that festering void within your breast, the one which vies for affection, for the love of a mother’s touch, for acceptance – there lies one small residual pool of envy.

Rhaenyra, Helaena, Alicent, Baela, Rhaena, Elina – your throat, tightening as you consider then your very own name, that cursed name that falls from lips spitting and serpentine; what are you, to them all?

To the girls here on the island who wear red and black maid uniforms and speak with you like you are one of their own, just to die by the hand whose grasp searched for your own throat?

Maiden, you wonder with worried eyes, I worry I will swallow the women I love.

There comes no such reply, but still you remain in folded grief for some time.

The rain falls outside the stoned walls of the Sept, but in here you remain dry. The island is drinking – or perhaps it cleans itself.

It is a pity you are not there with it.

A candle burns out, and in a shaky lump of grief, you move to relight the wyck.

The doors behind you scrape against the stone, and a wet onslaught finds your ears as you shiver in the breeze. Your fingers shake against the stick, watching the flame dance.

“Lucerys,” You say once more, voice less of a whisper and more a plea.

The clink of metal behind you startles your focus – you turn to face the visitor with an open mouth and wide eyes. In a breath of panic, you start.

A boy, shrouded in the swimming shadows of the Sept’s rounded columns – waterlogged breaths, curls that breathe with his chest, alive, sinking, but alive – and the slip of water rushing around him, swelling like the tide as he moves from the shadows.

Luke, you almost call out – but the black of the tunic catches with the silver scars of a wettened sun – and there, a familiar face, searching eyes, the lick of a tide in the slope of his nose.

Jace.

The pearls of lost memories sink to the depths and you are no longer with that ghost – but instead alone with the Gods and with your betrothed.

There is no greeting, but instead the locking of your eyes to his in acknowledgement – and he approaches you as you turn back to the altar, hands clenched to avoid their shake.

“–Do they listen today?” He wonders, breaking the shell of silence; a tentative thing carried through the space of the Sept, a ripple on a calm pool. And though he delivers the query with all intentions of seriousness, you cannot help the small blushing of warmth that floods your cheeks at his recalling of yesterday’s spite.

The gods don’t listen.

You crack the first smile, toothless and small – but he almost eagerly follows suit; and in the small grins shared between you, there is a breath of peace.

“Not any more than they have before, I’m afraid.” You affirm, brushing invisible dust from your sleepgown; it is only when his eyes dip over your frame do you register the cloak you still don, its embroidered sigils of red and black upon the nape of your neck and boyish scent still clinging in the aftermath of the dampened path to the Sept.

You have made no motion to rise to him; though he indeed, still as a pole, has remained without effort to sink to you either, and so you stare up at him. Jacaerys clears his throat, eyes flicking to the two lit candles before you and back to your gaze. “I’d hoped you’d send for me when you woke.” He whispers, some kind of warmth blossoming upon his cheeks.

You watch the flush stain his skin with some assurance; a live boy stands before you, swaying upon his feet, hands perched upon the pommel of a sword and eyes lit with some hesitant kind of hope. You nod absently, “I didn’t much feel like being poked and prodded.”

You’d meant by Maester Gerardys; though in a moment, you see something almost like amusement reflect in Jacaerys’ eyes – though he nods, concealing his dimpled grin and a small laugh. “I cannot hold you to blame for that.”

In the silence, a gap of beamed gray sunlight finds his tresses; and streaks across one amber eye of his, melting in warmth as he watches you warily. You swallow down the part of you that blossoms at a face so beautifully made, and you wonder how he sees you now.

“Why do you come?” His question strikes you once more in the quiet walls.

Perhaps a Septa crosses the way – though your sights are anchored on Jacaerys and his wandering tongue as he glances towards the stony faces staring down at you. He, with an absent voice, continues: “If it’s not for them?”

You swallow hard, fingers knotted like roots within your lap. A ruminating silence, until your voice finds its quiet whisper. “The chains of faith are not so easily cast aside, I suppose.”

His gaze follows your own to the statue of the Mother, looming before you; a shift upon his boots as rainwater slides down the leather to kiss the stone floor.

“And I know here no one will disturb me.” You add as an afterthought, some attempt at humour in the dreary silence, “Some say this Sept is gathering dust these days.”

Your words achieve their desired effect: The prince gives you one of those rare smiles, hands held in some mocking surrender. “I am not some.” He defends; to which you nod with a rare smile of your own.

“No, you are not, Jacaerys.”

It comes much warmer from your lips than expected – the moment passes thickly between you. A rusty memory, to converse so casually with each other – a talent perhaps still being honed, though you feel a birth of warmth in his presence, against the shell of cold that this day has woken.

Still he steps closer, hesitant in footing but deliberate in air, and you tilt your head, curious. “Still,” he speaks, “I hope you might… Let me join you.”

In the moment following, his gaze flickers to the altar; then rises uncertain back to you. His words are awkward, falling hesitantly from his lips, yet still genuine; with their insistence strikes within you a tenderness that must have been absent for far too long. An effort.

“You wish to pray?” you wonder, brows suspended in your surprise.

He merely nods, fidgeting with the edge of his sleeve; a boyish vision despite the burden of his station weighing around him – and your heart skips.

“If you’d show me how,” he says, quieter yet; and a half step towards the altar so that you are nearly in line, you on your knees and he wavering in his height. “I’ve never been quite… good enough at it. Septa used to take me by the ear and scold me when I was young.”

It’s a memory faint but easily recalled in your mind – Jacaerys and Lucerys, with youthful smirks plotting across the altar. A shove, a snort concealed in hands folded to prayer – a pious posture from you, though your eyes flickered so often to their whispered snickers, pressing your lips together when the Septas struck across the back of their heads.

You take in the sincerity of his expression, the slightly placated feeling that has spread from the rare childhood memory so lacking in strife; and how he stands before you, as if asking permission for something far more intimate than prayer.

Slowly, you incline your head, gesturing for him to kneel beside you. “Alright, then. Come.” You instruct shakily.

The sword lies first upon the stone; then comes the sinking of his knees, slow to drop; you resist a squirm, the sight of him joining you sending a quiet warmth through your chest.

It is quiet when he finds himself knelt aside you, hands loose and lips bitten. His tunic brushes your cloak – though you piously fold your hands, looking forward once more if only to avoid the heat that has inconspicuously grown upon your cheeks.

A beat, then two. Slowly, through a glance, his hands fold like yours, though they shake in the reflection of the dreary sunbeams.

Outside, the rain ravages the walls; your breaths fall in quiet releases, echoing each other in the dust.

“I’m not sure what to say,” his voice is rough as it interrupts the silence; a cascade of shivers involuntarily tumble down the ridges of your spine. You’re struck with some spare memory of hands, warm against the line of your back as sleep took you last night; hands that have taken their own time to slide over planes of goose-prickled skin, that have held, and wished, and reached.

Your eyes fall to the candles, unable to meet the gaze searing into your profile – it strikes you, the peculiar kindness of it; the bittersweet, stilted understanding that ties your heart to his own.

There is that lingering feeling – that knowledge that, should last night have gone peacefully instead and you’d woken to Elina with comb in hand, Jacaerys would not be here; But still, he’d still have such warm, open eyes – such pouted lips, such a face carved by worry and patience. A change, rung through the effort made to be by your side; You scrub the thought from your mind and clear your throat.

“I often start with a blessing,” you whisper into the air before you, “These days, it’s been for the realm.” At this, he says nothing; harboring a rather absent stare into the flickering candles.

His hand drifts to the light; and soon, it wavers with the flickering flame of an incense stick. His hand suspends, hovering in apprehension, but then his voice comes in a quieted whisper. “For the realm,” he echoes your words.

You do not dare glance at him; though in the corner of your vision sits his profile, softened by the gentle glow of flame and backlit in the torrential gray leaking from outside. Vulnerability drips from plush lips as he moulds over the words he endeavors to speak; and a moment of silence yourself as you shift, the emptiness in your chest warmed by the presence of his heat.

He whispers his prayer quietly, and you do not wish to impose; you remain beside him, blinking hard against the rising guilt that crawls up your throat, that reminds you of soft girlish smiles and gentle boyish laughs.

You do not hear his words, but you feel the gentle rumble of them from his chest to your own as you begin a silent whisper of prayer, Elina’s name falling from your lips.

And then comes the song of your voices, hushed and solemn in the Sept; it is in its way just as similar, just as reverent to choruses sung by your lips shared in the past – though for instances much different than now.

“–For those I’ve failed,” his voice washes into your consciousness, head bowed low and words whispered for none other to hear. Your eyes open at this; pulled from the depths of your own swirling grief, your head bowed in a beat of regret and vision flashing with a blue lamb, submerged in the cold sea.

Palms, damp and shaky, press to the stone altar. Your eyes find his, open and wettened with memory; it strikes your heart. “Now, I’d pray for the future,” Your voice, so quiet, faint. “That it might be more… kind than the past.”

His swallow is silent, but you see his chest expand with a breath. The air, so heavy in the weight of shared grief. “For the future,” he echoes once more; and his gaze, though still fixed on the flickering candles, seems distant – seeking out a vision only he can see.

His tongue swipes over his parted lips, brows furrowed in a soft emotion; you cast your gaze to the candles burning before you. He hesitates, his voice faltering before it firms again, quiet still in the empty Sept. “That I might be worthy of it. Of the realm, and–” His voice tapers off only momentarily. “ –And of those who are beside me.”

It is in the breath that his small confession catches your breath almost imperceptibly; your chest tightens at his struggling tension of jaw, of that countenance so often set with the sternness of duty.

There is a softening in his glance to the side, not nearly reaching you, but perhaps trying – something so close to vulnerability that it makes your heart lurch.

His gaze meets yours after a final moment, and in them you see your own reflection, your own yearning heart that beats against the restraints of awkwardness, of regret, of grief and of disdain.

His gaze is yours, and it feels like it has been for some time.

“That’s–” Your voice comes choked, uneven; you take a moment to gather yourself once more, cheeks flaring as you hold his stare. “A noble thing to wish for.”

The tension between you hums into the heavy silence of the Sept. You should look away — ought to, even — but you don’t; for it is a miraculous thing, to gaze into one’s eyes and feel yourself stare back.

Perhaps his hands fall first, but yours fall just after – and in the silence, your heart slams in your throat, mind hazy with the feeling of being seen and known. A furrow, gentle and longing, of his brow as he watches you; a ghost of his hand upon your arm, trailing along the cloak’s embroidered sleeve.

Perhaps you lean first, or perhaps he does.

It is not until your breath brushes his lips and his warms your own that you give in to the ache in your breast; And it is clumsy when your mouth finds his own. A kiss born not of passion but of some grief, some shared loss, some unbearable weight of what cannot be undone and what looms in the weight of crowns upon your heads and a war of fire and blood upon the weeping horizon.

There is some hesitancy that, if ever before, has grown between you; a soft caress of his neck with your quaking palm, a warm presence of his hand upon your hip, turning you towards his kiss. Your hands grasp without thought, without purpose – a search for life in a crumbling plane of ruin.

Salt upon your tongue, your nose slides upon his own; a fragile solace, this connection is.

But the haze of such vulnerable intimacy is dissolved in a breath: Jacaerys stills completely, and his warmth is gone from you in the very next moment.

“Jace,” You murmur as he shakes his head gently; a wet gaze between you, though you’re unsure whose it is. Perhaps both. “No,” His voice is strained in that quiet, pained way you recall – from early days finally released from your cell below the castle, from nights when the agony persisted in heated glares and serpent tongues.

He does not look at you before he rises, movements slow, deliberate – and you take the moment to gather your own mind, to swallow down the rush of surrealism that has fallen into lead upon your stomach. Seven stony faces watch you as you rise beside your betrothed at the altar, a slump in your shoulders that mirrors his own.

“I shouldn’t have,” He admits, shaking his head as his hand tentatively grasps your own; his palm is moistened with the tremble of regret, and you swallow down whatever stab of guilt rushes up your throat. A squeeze in return; a flush of embarrassment upon your cheeks as the remnants of his lips linger upon your own in some dizzying breath.

You shake your head as you brush nonexistent dust from your nightdress. “I shouldn’t have, I-”

“Please,” He murmurs; a plea, true and genuine – and he tugs your hand just so. “I am sorry.”

It is surprising to see such earnesty from him, though his words bring about a warmth to your chest. It goes unspoken, as so often things between you do – now is not a time for such recklessness; and though Jacaerys might perhaps be a sole comfort while the world weeps, you know now is not the time to escape in such securities.

Your nod is gentle, as is the kiss you deliver to his warm cheeks. They grow even more red in the absence of your lips.

“It's alright,” You agree, clearing your throat at the sudden memory of his lips, plump and warm, against your own.

Though with his words dissolves any distraction you’ve sought in the previous moments: “There is something else,” He explains, “I come with word from the Queen and Daemon.”

Despite his hand in yours, dread welcomes you once more into its embrace.

“They’ve found her?” You wonder; and there once more crashes a bout of anxiety into your ribs. His eyes swim – pity, perhaps, hiding in the folds of gold, of reverence, of verity.

He nods only slightly, eyes searching between your own.

“Yes.”

A breath catches in your throat – some odd angst of mourning for your adversary, then; to the girl she perhaps was before your grandsire wrapped his talons tight around her. Jacaerys lifts his hand, and soon your hair is brushed behind your shoulder.

“You do not need to go.” He promises, “I can have the dragons readied, or tea sent to the library. Or I could have a bath drawn–”

Kind suggestions; though you shake your head sharply, glancing to the Father and then meeting Jace’s stare. “No,” You protest, hand dropping his own to gather yourself. “But will you–” A cleared throat, biting your lip at the pain that echoes through the empty caverns of your chest. The words do not come commonly; an odd thought, some secret in front of the gods - and so you whisper in that tongue you both share. “Kessa ao māzigon lēda nyke?”

Will you come with me?

His lashes tangle in a slow blink, though he acquiesces immediately to your request. “Of course. Hēnkirī.”

Together. Your swallow is thick, and the pit of your stomach eats at you. It is a slow march to prepare your leave; the beating of a heart not your own, faced upon the gates of some shadowy fate – but the hand in yours warm and guiding, and his voice is slow and quiet.

Bells ring in the near distance, and in their warbled way, they sound of wedding bells. Some part of you blossoms reborn, a bud at the first breath of spring after years of winter; Jacaerys sends you a smile, and it is soon mirrored upon your own visage.

Fate is a peculiar thing, yes - but you are relieved that Jacaerys is the name of yours.

And even when you and your betrothed pull up each other's hoods in preparation for the rainfall, you do not realize that you’ve just risen from below the watching shadow of the Stranger. You do not realize that the shrouded figure has watched over your every prayer; and when you turn, you do not notice as its shadow follows the train of your dress.

You do not notice the snuff of the two candles, blown in the wake of your leave - and you do not feel as the Stranger watches you leave the Sept, arm in arm with Jacaerys.

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